#and make everyone ultimately face the uncomfortable feeling of being glad that a woman is suffering needlessly and without the ability to

[iamthescalesofjustice]

i have like half a dozen separate story ideas originating from the basic concept of ‘due to scapegoat echidna clones, various alternate-timeline versions of people got dumped in the middle of that’ bc like. its a fun excuse to throw various different iterations together and also i like the idea of the additional chaos caused by copies of people that are not echidna clones but who may have wildly varying morality, powers, and personal histories to their counterparts so like, bc if the current clone crisis everybody is auto-aggro on them anyway (official policy). 

[mercy-burning]

Heatwave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: The air conditioning is out at the BAU, so things get very hot—in more ways than one. Category: Smut 18+ (penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie / minor breeding kink, sex in an elevator) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST

***

"Oh, fuck, that's it!"

The exclamation nearly knocked Spencer off his feet. He would know her voice anywhere, so he didn't have to look to know that it was Y/N, but he looked anyway, sure enough spotting her on the opposite end of the bullpen, sorting through files at her desk.

If Hotch was any closer, he would have given her a warning look to signal his distaste for her swearing in the office, but his door was shut while he talked with someone so it never came.

"Wha—what did you find?" Spencer got out after clearing his throat to compose himself. It was bad enough he had already been distracted by her before, thinking about what it would be like to feel her hands weaved through his hair as she kissed him, but then she had to say that sentence of all things, slightly enhancing the fantasy.

It also didn't help that the air conditioning in the building was currently out, and in the middle of August. So when he looked up, he saw a low-cut, baby pink tank top with lace detailing on the hem, and a pulled-up hairdo that perfectly exposed her neck, which was currently glistening in a thin sheen of sweat. The way she leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed under a loose, knee-length floral skirt as she mulled over her file was giving him too many bad ideas, and it was a wonder he hadn't been caught or called out yet—everyone could always tell when he was thinking or off in his own world.

"Oh," Y/N said, briefly craning her head to meet his eyes. It took everything he had not to shudder when their gazes finally met. "I just misplaced one of my files, that's all. I was afraid I'd lost it. But it's right here," she said with a nervous laugh. "I didn't... bother you did I?"

"Oh! N—no, you didn't bother me at all, I... I was just wondering, that's all. I—I'm glad you found your file." He hated that he stumbled over his words, but when she looked at him like that, that sickeningly sweet kindness in her eyes that never wavered when she talked to him, he couldn't help it. She was easily the most intimidatingly angelic presence he'd ever met, in every capacity possible.

Even as she quickly frowned and shifted slightly in her chair, her eyes didn't lose that sparkle. But it was still evident that she was uncomfortable, so Spencer spoke again. "Are you okay?"

She set the file down on her desk and sat up straighter, bringing her back up off the chair as she uncrossed her legs. "Yeah, I'm fine, it's just the heat. I hate it. I'm definitely more of a cold, rainy day-type of girl, I guess."

Odd, considering you're just about the warmest soul I've ever met, he thought. Even as she talked about her distaste for the heat, she kept her voice light and her eyes kind.

"Hmm," is all he said, shortly and barely loud enough for her to hear.

The rest of the day seemed to pass by rather quickly, which Spencer was thankful for; the longer the day moved forward, the hotter it got, and it proved to be more distracting than he wanted to admit.

But soon he would be able to go home and take a cold shower, for one thing to cool off, but for another to relieve some of this feeling Y/N had been making him feel. He tried really hard throughout the day not to look at her, but he always found himself drawn to her anyway, and each time it happened he thought of dirtier and dirtier things, scenarios that he was positive could only happen in his wildest dreams.

But as usual, things didn't seem to work in his favor today. Just as he and Y/N were about to get onto the elevator, Hotch walked by, calling to them. "Sorry to ask you guys of this, but could you stay another hour or two? There are more files I need to get sorted, and I know it's hot, so I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it would be helpful if I had an extra set of hands."

Two more hours at most, he could manage that, right? And at least he'd have more files to keep him occupied, something to focus on.

Hotch sent them to the file room with a list of the files he needed, and then it was just the two of them, stepping onto the elevator and sealing their fate.

It wasn't four seconds after the elevator started moving that it stopped and the lights inside dimmed red.

"Wait, what's happening?" Y/N asked, slightly panicked.

Spencer was just as puzzled. "I... I'm not sure. Maybe it has something to do with the heat?"

About a minute passed before she sighed, shoving her phone in her bag. "Yeah. Just got a text from Garcia, the power in the building shut down so they could fix the air conditioning. It's gonna take like a half hour."

"A—A half hour? Really?" He tried not to show how nervous it made him, but truthfully he didn't think it would work.

Y/N sighed. "Yeah... It's... fine, though, I mean, maybe someone will try to get us out."

"But we're in between two floors..."

Another sigh. "And it's hot as hell in here. Great... So much for going home early."

Spencer snuck a glance over at her, almost immediately regretting it when he looked her over. Under the deep red glow of the emergency lights, she looked absolutely sinful. Her bag was dropped on the ground and she leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and pushing up her breasts. Her head was leaned back and her eyes closed as she took deep breaths, no doubt trying to stay as calm as one could be in this situation. He noticed every breath she took, her chest rising and falling and her skin glowing. And in that moment he embarrassingly felt something stir in his lower stomach, only made worse by the fact that it was, as she'd phrased it, 'hot as hell' in the elevator. He was hot and practically squirming as he stood there, ogling Y/N like she was the only woman he'd ever seen before.

As if it couldn't get any worse, she opened her eyes quickly and caught him staring at her chest. He didn't seem to notice because, well, his eyes were elsewhere, so she closed them once more and smirked to herself for the briefest of seconds, an idea striking her brain like a match.

She brought her arms to slowly un-cross and stretch outwards to her sides, arching her back and puffing out her chest as she gripped the rail of the elevator. The moment she opened her eyes, she saw that Spencer's head was directed pointedly to the floor. She smiled a little, keeping her arms stretched out across the rail as she took him in.

The first thing she took notice of was how his hair stuck to his face, wavy and damp with sweat. His fingers tapped against his legs, and that's what she looked at the longest. Every time his middle finger tapped the outside of his thigh, she imagined that he was doing it to her clit, and she could practically feel it throb to the slow, steady beat of his finger. Her hands gripped the rail tighter and she crossed her legs, contemplating whether or not she should take advantage of this moment to finally do something about this tension she'd been feeling between them for the past year and a half.

The truth is, she'd always had a crush on him since they started working together. But when she started her job at the BAU, he was... a little odd. Every time she would join in conversation, he'd made it a point to look almost inconvenienced by her presence. At first she had to wonder if maybe he just didn't like her. And if that was the case, she didn't want to make it worse by asking him about it, so she left it alone. But then she noticed how he was like that with everyone, and then over time he seemed to get better. Eventually he warmed up to her and the two of them became fast friends. He'd quickly transformed from a guy who always seemed annoyed with everyone and into the adorably shy, brilliant man everyone had told her he was when she first got the job.

Now there had been almost two years' worth of a different kind of tension between them, and in this moment in the elevator, Y/N wanted to do something about it. Or at least try.

She thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to bring it up. Should she be straightforward? You know, flat-out tell him that she's liked him for a long time and wanted to kiss his face off? Or did she want to have more fun with it? Because she admittedly loved seeing him get flustered every time he noticed her noticing him staring at her, but if he really didn't feel the same way, she didn't want to come on too strong and ruin this thing they'd built.

Ultimately, Y/N decided to try a little of both.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention. "Hey, Spence?"

When he looked up at her, his stomach flipped again. Fuck, she was just so breathtaking, her arms spread and her legs crossed like she was the queen of the elevator and he was trespassing just by being there. Her chin was tilted upwards, exposing more of her neck, and it almost made him fall over. "Y—Yeah?" he stammered quietly, trying and failing to sound calm.

"What should we do to pass the time? I'm bored."

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn he she was suggesting they— No. There was no way. He'd been a total jerk to her when they first met, and even though they were much friendlier now, Spencer wasn't sure she could ever want to do anything like that with him.

Right?

"Um... I—I don't know. Your phone works, doesn't it? Do you, um... Do you have anything you could do there?"

She shrugged, tilting her head to the side. "Battery's almost dead, and I want to save it in case something happens and we get stuck in here for longer than thirty minutes... I was thinking, actually... We haven't really gotten to know each other that well, and maybe would play... like 20 Questions or something."

"Oh..." He swallowed, shifting on his feet and blinking. "Well, um... W—what do you want to know?"

"Hmm... Favorite color?" She knew it was purple, but she wanted to hear him talk. Get him comfortable.

"Purple. What's yours?"

She leaned forward off the rail a little, and Spencer swallowed again, suddenly feeling a burst of warmth through his body.

"Light pink," Y/N said softly, "like so light that it's almost white."

He glanced down at her chest again, only for a moment to take in her shirt, which he'd remembered was the same color.

She continued. "What's your favorite snack food?"

"Pretzels."

"Me, too. Hmm... Favorite candle scent?"

"Peppermint."

"Spearmint. Favorite Star Wars movie?"

"Return of the Jedi."

"A New Hope. Favorite sex position?"

"Doggy."

She didn't say another word.

He wasn't even aware of the situation until about five seconds later, when she raised an eyebrow at him and his whole world came crumbling down.

As he visibly struggled to find words, Y/N only continued in conversation. "That surprises me. I would have thought you'd be more of a cowgirl guy."

If the way her voice sounded when she talked to him was the handle, then the way her eyes bore into his own was the blade, both of them coming together to create the weapon that would be his ultimate demise. The only thing missing was that twist of the blade, the one that would make sure he was gone for good, and the moment she leaned completely off the railing and took a small step towards him, he realized that final ingredient was her touch. If she touched him, he was done for.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what mine is? That's how the game works."

There's no way she wasn't flirting with him... Right? He was never good at picking up on those kinds of things, but she was being so obvious about it, stepping closer and closer to him with her chest puffed out and her head tilted to the side to reveal her neck. She was inviting him in, right? Especially after asking him to ask her that question.

That question...

Right.

"Um..." Spencer swallowed before speaking, his voice barely discernible. "What's... y—your favorite sex position?"

"Doggy. Especially standing up," she said with what was most definitely a flirty smile. "Looks like you and I have quite a bit in common."

"Y—yeah, I guess we... do..."

By now she had him backed against the other side of the elevator, and as soon as he felt his back hit the rail, he swallowed again, bringing his hand up to the collar of his shirt to relieve some of the heat he was feeling.

It didn't work, unsurprisingly.

"Look, if... If I'm overstepping, you should tell me. But I've liked you for a long time, and I feel like I'd be dumb to waste the perfect opportunity to tell you... So... The elevator probably won't be fixed for another twenty minutes at least, and since we're already on the subject... Maybe we should find another way to pass the time?"

Spencer noticed that she was careful not to actually touch him unless he gave her the go-ahead, and if anything it made him want her even more. She was giving him an out, and he knew that if he told her 'no', she wouldn't push it.

But here she was, in all her beautiful, radiant glory, practically inviting him to indulge in some of his biggest fantasies, and he would have to be brain-dead to pass that up. Even if he was a little nervous.

He tried to give her permission in a way that didn't make himself come off as some obsessed admirer, a shaky, breathy laugh exhaling from his throat before he spoke. "Well, it's already hot as hell in here, so... What's a little more heat?"

At first he regretted saying it, scared it was stupid and most definitely a mood-killer, but the way she practically lunged at him completely washed away all the worries written in the sand. And when her body pressed firmly against his, her lips coming to capture his in the most burning kiss he'd ever had, the waves crashed even stronger, loud with searing desire as warm as the August sun.

Immediately he brought his hands to cradle her face, loving the way he almost engulfed her with their size. He moved his lips against hers eagerly as her hands worked at unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. She only got the first few done before pulling away, and despite the heat, Spencer felt cold without her pressed up against him.

It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, but when she suddenly turned them both around and bent forward, leaning out to grab the rail, he felt warm again.

She turned her head around to look at him with a smile through a bit bottom lip as she reached one of her hands under her skirt and slowly pulled her panties down. Almost as soon as they hit the floor, pooling around her ankles, she lifted the skirt up and revealed herself to him, slowly running her fingers through her pussy.

"It's all yours, Doctor Reid," she said lowly, spreading her legs as far as they could go with her panties still confining her ankles.

He hadn't even realized he'd undone his pants until they were at his feet and his dick was in his hand. How had she managed to have that great of an affect on him?

He promptly decided he didn't care how, as he stepped forward and brought himself up to her ass and ran the head of his cock through her pussy, briefly meeting her fingers as he did so. "Are you sure?" he asked. Because once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. He already lost his mind just being in her presence, but being this close to her, fucking her in a broken elevator would surely hinder his ability to think about anything rationally, let alone at all.

"Fuck me, please," she all but begged, pushing herself back a little to encourage him. Either that or she was just desperate, though there was a good chance it was both.

In any case, that was all he needed, the trigger that set him off, and within seconds he was plunged deep inside her, the both of them softly moaning out at how it felt.

Spencer set a steady pace, his hands firmly gripping her waist as she pushed back to meet his every move. Each thrust forward was another twist of the blade that sealed his fate, only made more brutal by the pure filth that dripped from Y/N's lips, a symphony of long, drawn out moans and curses that sounded just as loving as they did pornographic.

When she bent forward even more, so much that he could see her hands outstretched on the rail, it gave him the deepest angle he could possibly be at, and she clenched herself around him, calling out his name.

"Fuck, Y/N, keep doing that," Spencer breathed out, shutting his eyes at the sensation.

He could hear her laugh a little. "That feel good, baby? Huh, you like when my pussy clings to you?"

Each word was fuel that quickened his pace inside of her, and joined with the way his hands were wrapped around her, the very tips of his fingers felt her stomach bulge at every snap of his hips. He spread his right hand across her lower stomach to feel it, groaning out as he did.

He didn't even realize he'd said his next words out loud, but after she groaned out and clenched around him tighter, he knew she'd heard and liked what he was saying.

"God, I wanna cum inside you so fucking bad..."

She turned her head again to see him as best as she could, doing the most to come off as desperate as she felt. "Fuck, Spence, do it, please, I want your cum inside me, please..."

A few more quick thrusts inside of her was enough to make her cum, her mouth open in a silent scream as she stopped moving back against him and just let him pound into her. He followed closely behind, brokenly moaning out her name as he stilled and pulsated inside of her.

"Ohh, that's it," she said to him with wonder as she stayed clamped tightly around him, trying to get every last drop. "Fuck, that feels so fucking good..."

In a moment of blind lust at her words, Spencer pulled out just until only the tip was inside, before quickly and deeply fucking into her once more, holding himself inside for about five seconds as she cried out. He repeated that so many times he couldn't keep count. Or maybe it was only two times, and he was just to drunk on her to notice. However long he did it for, they both relished in the feeling before they were both overstimulated and out of breath.

While any other time he would have loved to see his cum drip down her legs, since they were at work he decided to lift her panties up instead, relishing in the way she whimpered when they were on all the way. He made sure to pull them up tight, so she could feel his cum soak them as she stood upwards.

He scrambled to put his pants back on as she caught her breath, leaning against the wall of the elevator with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. He watched her intently as her hand drifted under her skirt and rubbed herself through her underwear, letting out whimpers and ragged breaths upon feeling what he'd done to her. The sweat that had just started to form on her body earlier due to the heat was now dripping down her neck and over her chest, and he was once again mesmerized by her.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered aloud. Of course he'd meant to say it to himself in his head, but he wasn't thinking straight. She'd utterly wrecked him.

Y/N opened her eyes and smiled, taking him in as well. His hair was wild, all over the place and just as sexy as she'd found it before. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, no thanks to her, revealing a glistening chest and making her pussy throb once more, knowing what they'd just done and how... hot the whole situation was, for lack of a better term.

As if she needed a reminder, more of his cum seeped into the fabric of her underwear, warm and ever present, which made her bite her lip and sigh. "Yep... Doggy is definitely my favorite position."

"Especially standing up," he added, a small smile adorning his lips.

They laughed as the elevator lights came back on, and the weight of what they'd just done came crashing down as with it.

Y/N shuffled to the other side of the elevator to grab her back, almost gasping at the way his cum felt in her panties when she moved. She was afraid it would come out, but there was nothing she could do to stop it except for hope.

The two of them were quiet when the door opened and Garcia met them in the lobby.

"Oh, thank God! I feel so bad I didn't warn you in time before you got stuck in th— Your faces are all red, geez! Was it really that hot in there?"

Thankfully the heatwave gave them both an alibi.

"Y—Yeah," Spencer said with a nod, stepping out of the elevator. "That's twice now I've been stuck in an elevator, and I really wish it would stop happening."

The girls laughed as the three of them made their way to cooler air.

Spencer and Y/N fell in step behind their friend and shared a knowing look as the approached the file room.

[qyllenhaal]

Good Wives Club [2]

Lee Bodecker x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 4.2k.

Spin-off to American Pie

Chapter One || Chapter Three

Summary: It's been more than a year since she's escaped the ghost of her past but life is never fair to a girl like her. Lee doesn't care that she has a husband, a nice house, and sugary fake friends, he wants what's rightfully his.

Warnings (series): Cheating, smut, violence, housewife kink, period-typical misogyny, age gap (about a ten year difference), manipulation, dark themes all around.

A/N: If anyone wants to be added to future tag list just let me know!

Y/n woke up at 5am with a dry mouth and her head spinning. Her night has been plagued with restlessness and she couldn't stay still. When she did fall asleep, it was for small periods of time. Each time she woke up she was not aware of where she was for the first five seconds, panic almost setting in before she registered the sound of her husband snoring.

The end of her irregular sleep cycle ended because she saw the hallway light was on. She sighed when realized it must be time for her husband to get ready for work. She virtually got no sleep and she'll probably be tired for the rest of the day.

She gets up from their creaky bed and starts walking down the hallway. It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the brightness as she slowly plods down the hallway. She follows the light to the bathroom where she can hear her husband getting ready for work. On the days he goes in this early Y/n is relieved that she doesn't have to get up and cook breakfast for him.

The door is cracked but she opens it to find him inside. She situates herself in the doorway, watching him shave his face through the mirror.

"Good morning," he spoke with a scratchy voice. Even though Y/n didn't marry Llewellyn for love, she's still attracted to him and likes his company most of the time. She feels an ache inside of her that wants him to take her, but after running into Lee last night she's afraid she won't be able to get Lee's face out of her mind while beneath her husband.

"Good morning. Going in early?"

"Yep. Dad wants to do inventory today since he put it off last week."

"Oh okay," she accepts quietly, ready to leave her husband alone so he can get ready in peace.

However he asks her a surprising question, "hey, did you enjoy last night?"

"Uh, it was fine I guess. Did you?" Her hope is that he at least enjoyed himself somewhat.

"You know I don't like that super fancy stuff like that, but I have to eat crow; it wasn't all that bad and Bodecker's not as bad as I thought. He's kind of a funny guy. I still think he's not as hard on crime like everyone claims he is, but personally, he's not that bad. Florence was nice too. She invited us to dinner on Wednesday night, apparently that's the only night Lee has off. I told her we'd be able to join them."

The turn of events was shocking. Y/n couldn't believe her ears and she thought maybe she indeed was still asleep. Lou was not fond of many people and his only "friends" were his two brothers so him warming up to Lee and Florence left her speechless. So speechless that she didn't register the fact that he accepted a dinner invite for them.

"What?"

"What do you mean ‘what’? You dragged me to that dinner last night and wanted me to be nice, and now you're confused when I do just that?"

"I-I'm not confused...just shocked," she admits truthfully, "I can't believe you want to go to someone’s house who isn't your mother house for dinner —are you sure you want to go?"

"We're going Y/n."

His tone of voice indicates that the conversation is done and over with and the decision has been made. Y/n didn't even get to contest his decision but Lou can tell when Y/n is in a defiant mood. Her folding her arms and walking away was confirmation for him. She stalks her way back to the bedroom where she takes to hiding under the covers.

Lee and Lou under the same roof — it makes her stomach churn just to think about it. They're wildly different from each other but the thing she hates about them is what they have in common.

All she can hope is that this nightmare ends and she wakes back up to a life without Lee's ghost lingering around.

-

She decided to go with a floral dress again. She really wanted to take out the checkerboard dress that made her legs look good and showed off her arms, but Lou would have made her change before she had the chance to step out of the house. The floral print is dizzying, but it's the kind of dress that Lou likes to see her wear.

It's just a small dinner at the Bodecker's house but Y/n opts for kitten heels instead of sensible flats. She feels obligated to look her best despite there being less people to dress for. She's never been alone with Florence save for that day at the grocery store. Florence is always dressed to the 10's and Y/n needs to look just as good, if not better. She claims to hate Lee, but it would be so satisfying if she caught Lee ogling her breasts.

"Are you ready?"

Y/n thought Lou was too dressed up for a home dinner of four. He wore a pinstriped suit and those nice leather shoes he bought himself around the holidays.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighs in an attempt to let off some steam.

It was a shorter drive than Y/n expected. Florence hadn't disclosed where she lived before, but Brewer Heights wasn't that for them to live at a distance. The sun was nearly dipped over the horizon and the remaining light that hits their house makes it look like a model home. Everything little aspect and detail Y/n was going to compare herself too. She lives in a nice house, but Florence lives in a nicer house. It tears her up knowing she has the ultimate upper hand over Florence in the form of her own husband and she can't even act upon it. She would royally fuck up her life and their lives too if she decide to let her jealousy get the best of her.

As she walks up their stairs as another man's wife, she accepts that she is jealous. She's always been jealous of Florence even when she didn't know her name. What made her so worthy of all of these things? Lee used to act like he hates the woman so she must be a bitch behind closed doors. It wouldn't be surprising if she is because most people in this town will smile in your face and then gossip about you a minute later.

Lou knocks on the door and only a second later Florence is opening the door with a big smile on her face and Lee right next to her. He wore his police uniform without the jacket while Florence looked like a Lilly Pulitzer catalog girl.

It only took one millisecond of their eyes locking together for Y/n to feel the electricity between her and Lee. She drags her eyes away from his, but she can bet that he has a smirk on her face. He always liked to see her squirm; in a good and bad way.

"Y/n, Llewellyn! I'm so glad you could make it! Why don't you come on in," Florence steps to the side, nudging Lee over with her, to make way for Y/n and her husband.

Her eyes scan over every inch of their house. It's warm, cozy, and oddly comforting. Everything little thing was in its place; perfectly dusted and polished. Y/n is sure that Lee had no hand in decorating this place, it screams Florence through and through.

"Dinner is almost ready. I started the scalloped potatoes a little too late, but it should be done soon! Y/n, do you want to help me set the table?"

Y/n didn't want to leave her husband alone with Lee, but she also didn't want to be in the room with just them. She nods at Florence and follows behind her to their kitchen.

The house smells like Lou's parent's house on holidays. Y/n's stomach rumbles and she doesn't realize how hungry she was. She despises herself for wanting Florence's cooking, but she barely ate today because of how nervous she was.

"I already laid out the place mates, you can place the plates and silverware."

Y/n picks up the expensive dining ware that Florence points towards. She wonders if Florence cooks like this all the time, even when Lee works well into the night.

The walls of their dining room have an awful floral pattern. Y/n is beginning to become sick at the sight of anything that pertains to flowers. The cedar table is perfect for accommodating guests and Y/n wonders how many dinner parties they had in this room. Florence seems to put a lot of stock into being a good hostess. Y/n herself has yet to throw a dinner party at her home, but setting the plates on someone else's dining room table feels like practice. She silently imagines her house filled with Lou's family as she cooks dinner for them.

Florence enters the room and starts placing the dishes in the middle of the table. Her presence takes Y/n out of her fantasy, and when she sees how Florence made a 3-course-meal she feels worse.

"Does the food look good? I tried some new recipes from Julia Child's cookbook to try to impress you and Llewellyn," she admits, "I wasn't sure what you two would like, but Lee loves when I make those recipes from Julia Child and I bet Llewellyn would love it too! I could lend you the book some time!"

"Of course. I love her work!" Y/n lies straight through her teeth. She has no clue who the hell Julia Child is.

Florence grabs one last thing before calling the husbands into the dining room. She places one beer on the coasters designated for Lee and Lou. Lou has never been much of a drinker, but she knows that Lee can knock down a few beers in one sitting. He might be on his best behavior tonight in front of his wife and company.

"Dinner's ready!" Florence called out.

Y/n took her seat on the right side of the table and Florence sat opposite of her. Their husbands come walking in laughing as if they were young boys sneaking back into the house during a family get together. Y/n doesn't like it; she doesn't like it at all. They look too cheery with each other and she knows that Lee is doing it on purpose — she can see it in his eyes when he quickly glances at her. He takes pride in making her uncomfortable. Y/n wishes she had that same affect on him to scare him off a bit, but no matter how chummy she gets with Florence, Lee looks unbothered.

Florence stands up from her seat as if she's presenting the food on the table to an audience. Everything is placed perfectly with the main dish being the middle of the smaller plates.

"This looks great honey, you made a whole feast," Lee walked up to Florence's side and kissed on the cheek. Y/n's eyes are trained on his hand snaking around her waist and giving her a light squeeze before letting go. When she pulls her eyes away from his hands, she sees that Florence almost looks shocked at her husband's affection; Lee is definitely putting on a show for Y/n and it's a damn good one.

Lee sits opposite of Lou and the first thing he does is open his beer. The food isn't even on plates anymore and he's drinking.

"I hope you like Schmidt's, Llewellyn. Lee loves it so it's all we have in the house."

"I'm not one to drink beer often, but I'll try it. And call me Lou, Florence."

Lou was acting out of his normal character. Him only interacting with his family and Y/n left him a bit awkward in the presence of others, but around Florence and Lee he seems to be much...warmer. If Lee was someone else then Y/n would be over the moon, but because it's him she can't even force herself to even look happy about it.

Y/n takes note of how Florence places portions of food on Lee's plate. They were small portions too. She was always strict about what he ate and how much he drank. She's surprised Florence is letting him drink tonight, but she must be trying to look nicer in front of guests.

Y/n was not as controlling as Florence. She always let Lou fix his plate to his liking. She thought it made her a good wife for letting her husband make his own decisions. But Y/n felt a tap on her shoulder after she finished making her own plate. He looked down at his empty plate before looking back at her and nodded towards the food.

"Y/n," he tries to whisper but his tone is rather harsh.

"What?" She whispers back in true confusion.

"My plate."

He looked at her as if she was crazy, as if it was a common occurrence for her to fix his plate. She starts to scramble to save herself from further embarrassment, the sound of silverware against plates so loud. She can feel the stares coming from the other side of the table but she doesn't dare look up.

Her skin began to grow hot. Her husband had embarrassed her in front of Lee and Florence. The worst part was when Florence tried to change the subject to something lighthearted to pull the attention off of Y/n. She felt small and useless. Lou never expected her to fix his plate, but he looked at her as if she was crazy for not doing so. She didn't want to spend dinner almost in tears. This changed behavior in her husband is giving her whiplash and making her dizzy.

"So, Y/n, did you enjoy the other night?"

"It was really nice Florence," she replies sheepishly.

"Susie and I put so much work into planning it. You should join us next time! We're going to start working on the fundraising events for Lee's next campaign-"

"Let's not talk about that tonight Florence," Lee interrupts. It was a moment that would've left Y/n embarrassed if she was in Florence's shoes but Florence was much better at masking her emotions. Only for a split second can Y/n see Florence flinch at his interjection before she just smiles.

"Sorry Lee, you know how excited I get about those things," she masks her apology in a cheery voice.

Dinner basically became a probe of Y/n and Lou's relationship. Florence wanted to know how they met, when they got married, how long they had been together, and what their future plans together were. Y/n let Lou answer the last question by herself because she genuinely didn't know what their future plans were. Lou usually wakes up and decides what major life change they're going to undertake, that's what happened when he decided to move to Brewer Heights.

When the topic of work came up, Y/n thought the coast was clear. Lou talked extensively about the work he does with his father and what his plan is for the next five years regarding the business.

"Once my father retires I'll have to hire someone to do his job. I didn’t go study in school after high school so I can't take over his position, even though it would make things easier."

"I'm sure you can find someone. I know it's rare for someone to leave the city and come to this little town, but Brewer Heights is always a nice incentive!"

"It is nice here," Lou agrees, "and it's quiet. We were in Meade before which is okay-"

"But, it's nothing like Brewer Heights," Florence interjects. "So, Y/n, what did you do before meeting Lou?"

Lee had not looked her way since the plate-fixing incident but his eyes were sure on her now. If his mouth wasn't stuffed with food he'd be grinning from ear to ear waiting for her answer. He knows she's not a good liar, but she's going to have to come up with something.

"I helped my mom with her business. She used to sell fruit preserves out of the house before she passed."

It wasn't a complete lie. She did help her mother label her jars, but that became less frequent when her hours picked up at Tecumseh. Her parents didn't know about her job either; she told them she was a waitress and it was a safe lie seeing as they didn't go out to diners.

"I'm sorry for your loss, I'm sure she was a lovely woman if she raised such a lovely daughter! Have you ever thought of continuing her business?"

"Not really. It was pretty small. I still make the preserves sometimes for Lou and I."

"If you wouldn't mind, would you be interested in making some for us one day? You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's just so hard to find any good fruit preserves around town." Florence's social habits were very transparent once you were around her for long; she tends to make it impossible for people to say no to her by making them feel bad about even possibly saying no.

"I'd love to Florence. I have fresh peaches at home and I can make peach preserves."

"Oh I'd love that so much," she fawns, "a jar for me and a jar for Lee! He loves his sweets."

"I'm not too big on peaches, Flo. You know I like cherries more."

"You always have," she leans into him and pats him on the chest before straightening up again.

The audacity of Lee is astounding, however not only is he a cop, he's the sheriff. It's such a cowardly move to pick at Y/n when she can't react, but what someone would call cowardly, he'd call fun. She looks like she wants to disappear from her spot and it scratches an itch for him. He missed seeing her get flustered and if he'd known that it would be much more enjoyable to taunt her while his wife was around, he would have found a reason a long time ago to bring her around.

And as if the night couldn't be more humiliating for her, Lou finished his plate before anyone else. He devoured the food on his plate, like a starved man. Y/n felt embarrassed when her husband went for seconds. He never eats this much at home, even when she makes his favorite meals. It makes her want to reach across the dinner table and smack Florence in the face. She hates her; she hates that she has to smile in her face and be friends with her. It's her own fault for continuing this "friendship" with Florence, but her rage makes her blind to her own faults.

She could ruin Florence's life with one sentence: "I've been fucking your husband for years." She'd cause a scene but it would be so gratifying.

Instead she just shuts her mouth and lets dinner continue without anymore incidents.

-

Y/n thought it would show she was grateful for dinner if she helped Florence with the dishes. She was glad to accept Y/n's help and the two spent their time in the kitchen while Lee and Lou sat on the back porch. With Lee's influence, Lou took another drink out back with him. Y/n wondered what they had to talk about, but she would truly not like to know.

"Your wife cooks like that every night, sheriff?"

"Enough with the title. And she cooks every night, but she went a little overboard since she was happy with having guests," he tells him. If it was anybody else, Lee would just answer the questions and not have any for himself. However, he really wants to know what Y/n has been up to since she's adopted this new image. "How about Y/n? Does she cook for you like that?"

"Not at all. She tries, but she's not the good of a cook," he brings the alcohol up to his lips before pulling away and sighing, "she tries but it's just not her best."

"Her mother didn't teach her how to cook?"

"I don't know much about her family. Her mother was dead when I met her and her father doesn't seem to be doing so well. They're from the same area as my folks but moved when they had Y/n. Maybe she was just too spoiled considering she's an only child."

Y/n's past was a mystery to Lee too, but he's surprised to learn she hasn't opened up to her husband. All he knows is that whether it was her home life or not, something had messed her up and it was almost made worse by her time at Tecumseh. He isn't sure how she made it out, but so much of her old life still bleeds through.

"You know I thought I was getting a good girl. One that would clean and have dinner ready when I get home," Lou continued.

Lee wanted to laugh in his face. Lou is proof that you can come from a smart family and still be dumb as rocks. How could he not know what type of girl Y/n was when he first laid eyes on her? She'd dress just like his sister Sandy; shorts that suffered from mistreatment over the years and a sleeveless blouse that was always stained. He's sure her hair was mussed up that day too. Many people would mistake her for a whore (which many people did see her as one even though she didn't outright sell her body to anyone).

"It can't be that bad," Lee tried to vouch for his former lover. Even he can name some good qualities about her; they just don't include any wifely qualities.

"It's not, but things could be better. Anytime I tell her to shape-up she gets this timid look on her face and flinches a little bit. I try to be nice and gentle but I'm losing my patience with her. I’m not looking to leave her, but what’s the point of marrying a woman who can’t do anything? She won’t even talk to me about having kids — was Florence ever like this?”

“No. Her family is from here so she’s been primed to be a housewife. But I will say it’s not all that fun havin’ a doting wife…she’s overbearing at times and I can never unwind with her around. She’s always on my ass about somethin’.”

Lee felt the need to vouch for Y/n. Anytime he would go to Tecumseh, she would accompany out back or get into his cruiser whenever he told her to. All the gritty things he dealt with at work, everything he kept inside, he dumped it on her. Florence would never sit there to listen to his grievances. Lee would never admit it, but he was vulnerable around Y/n, he knew that she would always be there to listen and he attached himself to that. In the beginning she wasn’t willingly listening to his problems but by the end she was. She took care of him when he was too drunk to go home, or she would let him take his stress and frustration out on her body. However, it doesn’t seem as if Lou is budging; his mind is made up.

“I work long hours. My father is putting more responsibilities on me. I put Y/n in that nice home, the least she could do is not serve me burnt food. Hangin’ around Florence and that Susie woman should have at least influenced her or something,” he continued to complain.

Florence was the last person that would be able to influence a girl like Y/n. Lee didn't know why his wife was seemingly grooming that girl. If anything it was just another person for her to control since Lee started telling her to knock it off. The only time she can get away with controlling her husband is if they're in the company of others where Lee has to be on his best behavior.

Y/n is not the type to be influenced by another woman. The only woman she held in high regard was her mother. Y/n listens to male authority. She listens to a man that will rough her up a little bit but then be sweet on her afterwards. She’s a little fucked up and jaded from her former “profession.” Lee knows this, but not Lou. He seems to know nothing of her past and Lee isn’t going to snitch on her.

“I can talk to Florence and see if she can do something. I know she likes taking people under her wing and shit. She seems to really like Y/n too.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that Lee. I know I sound like I’m hard on her, but I do love her. It’s hard for me to show when she just doesn’t put any effort in.”

"Don't worry. I'll talk to Florence — I'll make everything right."

[c-optimistic]

Soulmate au?

i.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Kara asks suddenly one day. They’re in Lena’s office, having a rather late lunch, and had lapsed into a rather awkward silence when Kara blurts out her question.

(Mending friendships is slow, tedious work.

But much like all her other goals, Lena doggedly pursues it, determined to see it through.)

“No, I’m a scientist,” Lena laughs, putting her fork down. “Why do you ask? Do you think you found your soulmate?”

She doesn’t know why she asks. She doesn’t want the answer to that. She doesn’t want to hear about Kara’s dating life. Ask her why, and she’d vehemently deny knowing the reason, but the truth is that the thought of Kara with someone else sends poisonous shards through Lena’s chest, twists her all up inside, and leaves her feeling like her world has crashed around her.

(It’s not dramatic at all.)

“What? No!” Kara says to Lena’s ultimate relief. “No, it’s for an article.”

“You’re writing about soulmates?”

“Well, not exactly. There’s this woman here in National City who claims she can find your soulmate.”

“Oh?” Lena says, raising an eyebrow. Kara nods.

“Apparently, she can see the three ‘Marks’ of soulmates.” When Lena just eyes Kara skeptically, Kara grins and shrugs. “I’m serious! She claims there’s the Mark of Pain, the Mark of Skin, and the Mark of String.”

“...right,” Lena says, stretching out the word and smiling when Kara laughs. “So how does it work?”

“Well, I’ve only talked to her on the phone. But she says soulmates are attached in different ways. And she can sense it. Even if we ordinary people can’t. Like, her string theory—”

“—I don’t think that’s what the string theory is, Kara,” Lena interrupts, but Kara’s on a roll.

“I know, I know. But she says she can see it. Red thread, tied from one person to another. Or tattoos on people’s skin that matches in some way, and only she can see.” Kara shrugs. “She has a pretty good Yelp rating. Everyone says she’s gotten it right.”

“That seems more like confirmation bias than anything. And of course she’s making money off this.”

Kara smiles warmly at her, her eyes soft behind the glasses she didn’t technically need. She looks at Lena in a way that makes Lena heart skip a beat or two, that makes her momentarily forget about the past year of difficulty between them. Suddenly, she’s only looking at her best friend, and she’s a little bit in love.

“So you don’t believe in soulmates?” Kara confirms, her smile turning wistful.

“Why? Do you?” She doesn’t know why she asks. She doesn’t really want to know the answer, sure that any response Kara gives will just be a kick to the chest. Another crack in her heart.

She really wishes she hadn’t asked.

“I don’t know,” Kara responds after a short pause, clearly giving it a lot of thought. “But I hope soulmates do exist.” Kara lets out a laugh. “Maybe this woman can lead me to mine.”

(And there it is, that kick to the chest and crack in her heart she expected.)

Lena looks away, pretends to be startled by the time, but even as Kara gathers her things to leave, she secures Lena’s promise to look into this mystical soulmate finder together.

It’s a promise Lena is sure she’s going to regret.

ii. pain

“So, it’s weird that she refuses to see us in person, right?” Lena asks, looking to Alex for some support, which the elder Danvers is only too happy to give. “It’s odd. Why doesn’t she meet us in person?”

Kara shoots them both an impatient look, clearly not impressed with their negativity. “She doesn’t want to be affected by our energies while she’s working,” she explains, checking her phone before looking up and making sure they are at the right place.

“Our energies?” Alex asks dubiously, making a face at Lena behind Kara’s back. She times it poorly; before she can school her features into a neutral expression, Kara has turned to look at them again, her eyes narrowing.

“Being skeptical and being dismissive are two very different things,” Kara scolds them, sounding just a bit testy. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping an open mind, even about things you don’t or can’t understand.”

Alex opens her mouth, clearly about to start a debate, but Lena butts in, silencing Alex with a hand on her shoulder and giving Kara a small, placating smile. “You’re right, we’re sorry. We’ll behave,” she says, squeezing Alex’s shoulder until she lets out a grunt in the affirmative. When Kara is seemingly satisfied, nodding at them briskly, she continues leading them down the street, eyes on the storefronts. Alex, however, elbowed Lena hard the second Kara’s back was turned.

“What’s wrong with you?” she hisses, elbowing Lena again. “We’ll behave?”

“She’s right, there’s plenty we don’t understand, plenty out there in the universe we can’t make sense of, so maybe keeping an open mind isn’t the worst thing—”

“—oh, shut up, you know very well you’re only taking her side for one reason, and—”

“I can hear you two, you know,” Kara says loudly, interrupting their hushed argument. “Also, we’re here.”

She stops and looks up at the rundown tea shop, nestled between an old record store that had clearly seen better days, and a very busy video game and comic book store. Lena tugs on her coat when a few kids eye her as they enter the store, ducking their heads together and beginning to whisper.

“All right, well explain where here is,” Alex says, stepping closer to her sister. “You haven’t actually explained anything.”

Kara nods, gesturing for them to enter the tea shop, the three of them finding an empty table and huddling around it, perching on tiny, uncomfortable chairs. The tea shop is, for the most part, a place Lena would never have entered on her own volition. It’s frilly and pink, photos of cats everywhere, with sticky tables and stifling heat. Yet, there’s also an odd comfort to the place: it smells heavenly, the aroma of freshly brewed tea mixing with a variety of sweets, all neatly arranged at the display next to the register. The customers also look like they’re at home, nestled in corners reading books, tapping away on computers, and even on what looks to be a very engaging date.

It’s nice. Even if she’s skeptical of the reason they came here, she’s glad she’s come across this place. She thinks she may even come by again, especially if their tea is any good.

“So apparently, there are two people who work here who are soulmates,” Kara explains, motioning for Alex and Lena to lean towards her. Lena finds herself swallowing a little when the aroma of the tea shop is mixed with Kara’s heavenly scent. Her mind goes a little fuzzy, and she knows she has a silly expression on her face because Alex is smirking at her. Kara, of course, focused on work and on her explanation, notices nothing. “They have the Mark of Pain. We’re here to observe, see if they actually can feel each other’s pain.”

“I don’t know if I’d like that one,” Alex says conversationally, leaning back in her rickety chair and eyeing the register and the zoned-out employee behind it. “I mean, can you imagine? In my line of work? Kelly would always be in pain.”

“You think Kelly is your soulmate?” Lena asks, a little surprised by the easy way Alex has said it. Like it’s a fact. Like it’s just true. “What about Maggie? How do you know?”

“Who says you have to have one soulmate?” Alex shoots back, shrugging. “Kara’s my soulmate too. Platonically, of course. You, even.” She grins when Lena’s eyes widen, when she opens and closes her mouth wordlessly, confused and overwhelmed and unsure. “What? Just because I don’t believe in this mystic lady doesn’t mean I don’t believe in the concept of soulmates. But who says it has to be romantic? Or that it’s just one person?”

“So what is it?”

“People in your life who enter it and just...stay. Your found family. Chosen family.” She looks away from the employee at the register and smiles at Kara. “Kara agrees. Right?”

Kara, who has pulled out her notebook and has taken a few notes down about the employee at the register, nods distractedly. “We were drunk when we came up with this,” she explains, meeting Lena’s eyes and blushing slightly for whatever reason. “But it just seems—well, it seems silly to think that in the entire universe there’s one person who’d be your perfect partner. That’s also really sad,” she mumbles. “If that were true, who’s to say my soulmate didn’t die with Krypton?” She shrugs awkwardly. “I think sometimes people are just connected. Meant to be in each other’s life. In whatever form that may be.” Kara looks at Lena carefully, her mouth opening and her cheeks reddening further. “Like—” But Lena doesn’t get to hear what Kara wants to say. At that moment, another employee comes in from the back entrance, looking slightly distracted, eyes on the employee behind the register.

“Look,” Alex says suddenly, sitting up straighter as the employee walks by, bumping into a table roughly. “Whoa,” she says, and Lena silently agrees.

Because just as the employee mumbles a curse and rubs their side, blushing furiously and looking embarrassed, the zoned-out employee at the register winces in pain, rubbing that same spot.

A point, Lena thinks, in the strange mystic woman’s favor.

iii. skin

Lena begins researching the strange mystic woman in earnest.

(In her free time, far away from Kara’s eyes or Alex’s judgment.)

Everything about her is frustratingly perfect—perfect enough that Lena is suspicious. The woman’s website is well-made and professional, littered with testimonials and photos of weddings. There are a range of services with a range of prices, and no matter how much Lena digs, she doesn’t see a single bad thing about the woman.

It’s the internet, she thinks as she scrolls through Google reviews, grimacing at the emojis that filled each comment. Surely someone, somewhere would use the anonymity to their advantage to say something less than complimentary.

No one is perfect, Lena thinks to herself. Which means one of two things: this woman is a fraud (more likely) or she has some sort of ability to force people to write nice things about her on the internet (Lena’s had a few drinks when this becomes a plausible option to her).

She doesn’t remember dialing the number on the website, but the next thing she knows, someone with an airy voice is on the other end, asking her if she’s ready to meet her soulmate.

“You’re a fraud, did you know that?” Lena asks. “It’s cruel what you’re doing, really. Telling people there’s someone perfect out there who loves them for them. That’s unkind.”

“Oh, Lena!” the woman says, the airy tone dropping for a moment. “I mean,” she continues, the affectation back, “I’ve been expecting a call from you, Lena Luthor.”

“Oh, have you? Can you see the future as well as the red string connecting people?”

The woman chuckles, and she sounds vaguely familiar. Lena’s drunk mind chalks it up to being drunk. “I can’t see the future,” she says, sounding amused. “I just knew you would contact me after Kara Danvers began her article on my business.”

“Oh?” Lena mutters sarcastically.

“The answer to your question is yes,” she says, and Lena chokes on nothing.

“I didn’t ask a question. The ‘oh’ was rhetorical.”

“No, Lena Luthor, the question you called me to ask. I’ll give it to you, free of charge: yes.”

“I don’t have a question,” Lena denies, not liking the way the woman on the other end of the phone laughs. “Is this how you tricked the others? Tell them what they want to hear, and they write you obnoxiously positive reviews?”

“So you admit it’s what you wanted to hear,” the woman shoots back with glee, that stupid tone gone, and for the second time, Lena swears she knows this voice. “I mean,” she clears her throat, “I haven’t tricked anyone. I just tell people what I see. Didn’t you see the truth at the tea shop?”

“I think there’s a perfectly logical explanation for that,” Lena argues. “Phantom pains, an old bruise, sympathetic—”

“—okay, you’re skeptical,” the woman interrupts, “I understand. What if I show you a second example?”

Lena thinks about it for a moment. “Fine. But on my terms. I want you to find Jess’s soulmate.” She’s just drunk enough that this seems like a wonderful idea. On the other end of the phone, the woman sounds like she’s hacking up a lung.

“Your secretary?” she asks incredulously, once again sounding familiar.

“How did you—”

“—okay, I will do this,” the woman interrupts, rushing to speak. “In two days, you will be able to see her Mark as well as the Mark of her soulmate, just like I do.”

“That makes no sense, what are you—” But she never finishes her sentence. The woman hangs up, leaving Lena looking at her phone, trying to blink away her shock.

By the time she wakes up the following morning, groaning at her hangover and nearly telling Kara she loves her when the reporter shows up to her apartment with coffee and pastries, Lena’s forgotten all about the call.

///

Jess lingers every time she steps into Lena’s office. She eyes Lena oddly, stares at her hands, and shifts awkwardly on her feet. After the third time, Lena rolls her eyes, sets her pen down, and gives Jess her full attention.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No!” Jess says immediately, then grimaces. “Well, yes. But nothing bad. Not really.” Lena waits her out, knowing Jess will get to the point eventually. “My partner and I, well, we had plans this weekend. We’re supposed to leave straight from work, so I was—”

“—oh, right. Your time off. Yes, of course, feel free to leave early.” She picks up her pen, thinking this is the end of the conversation.

“Um, actually Ms. Luthor, I was wondering if you’d be willing to meet him.”

“Meet who?” Lena asks distractedly.

“My partner.” Something must show on Lena’s face when she drops her pen a second time and looks up at Jess, because she hurries to explain. “He’s a huge fan of your work. And he’s a big part of my life. I’d like you to meet him. If you can.” She tacks on the last three words almost as an afterthought, not quite meeting Lena’s eyes.

“Yes, of course. We can—”

“—wonderful, he’s right outside,” Jess says, smiling wide, rushing out of Lena’s office. A moment later, she returns, a tall, charming looking man following close behind.

She introduces them, and for the next hour, they chat amicably, discussing Lena’s work and Jess’s exceptionalism, and the weekend getaway plans. Except, Lena’s not quite sure she retains any of the information she gleans from the conversation—in fact, if you asked her, she couldn’t even remember if Jess had ever mentioned where she and her partner were even going.

Because when Jess’s partner reaches out to shake Lena’s hand, his sleeve rides up just slightly, revealing a small tattoo with Jess’s name on the inside of his wrist.

Lena doesn’t need to see a similar tattoo, with Jess’s partner’s name, on the inside of Jess’s wrist for her to realize what she’s come across.

“Those tattoos are quite nice,” Lena says when they get up to leave, Jess’s partner leaving her office first. “The artist who did them is quite talented.”

Jess gives Lena an odd look. “I’m sorry, Ms. Luthor,” she says, “what tattoo?”

Lena gestures to Jess’s wrist, but when she looks down, the mark is gone.

And that is a second point in the mystic woman’s favor.

iv. string

Lena absolutely, positively, without a single shred of doubt, does not believe in soulmates. The concept is ludicrous. To think that in a massive and constantly expanding universe, the atoms that make her are somehow destined to be near the atoms that make up someone else is an entirely ridiculous conclusion. She does not believe in the concept of a perfect partner, of someone she is meant to be with, of an individual to whom she is forever connected.

(And to be quite frank, there’s a bit of fear too. She doesn’t want soulmates to exist. For one, she’s worried about the prospect that the universe would pay back her family’s misdeeds by forever ensuring Lena does not have a soulmate. And for another, the far more terrifying option, she does have a soulmate, and that poor soul is bound to her of all people.

What an awful, horrible fate—nothing she’d wish on her worst enemy, least of all the person she’s supposedly destined to be with.)

Lena does not believe in soulmates. She doesn’t.

What she does believe in is Kara.

(Kara, who had her back from the day they met. Kara, who had saved her life more than once. Kara, who made mistakes—just like Lena—but had met Lena halfway and worked hard to fix things between them. Kara, who for all her flaws and missteps, is Lena’s best friend in the world, the one person who has seen Lena for Lena, from the moment they first locked eyes.

Kara, who Lena is hopelessly in love with; Kara, who has never shown interest in women; Kara, who has recently taken up the really rather unfortunate habit of telling Lena she loves her every chance she gets.

And then there’s Lena, who swallows down what she wants to say and instead smiles bitterly as she intones, “I love you too, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”)

Lena is pretty smart. She can say so without sounding obnoxious about it, because it’s a generally accepted fact. She’s pretty smart, and she was dumb enough to fall in love with someone who could never love her back the same way. She rather thinks that if soulmates are indeed real, then that wouldn’t have been possible. Then again, perhaps that’s not entirely true.

(She thinks about Alex’s notion of what soulmates are or could be, of Kara’s thoughts on connection, and she thinks that maybe—even if she wants it to—she isn’t meant to be with Kara romantically. If there’s anyone in her life who is her family, anyone Lena has chosen, anyone she has picked again and again and again, it’s Kara.

It will always, romantically or not, be Kara.

And if that’s not the definition of a soulmate, Lena’s not quite sure what is.)

For the second time in less than a week, Lena finds herself dialing a number from a well-maintained website.

“Lena Luthor,” the airy voice says as soon as she picks up. “I admit I’m surprised you’re calling. I gave you proof and your answer. What more can you need?”

“These soulmates you find,” Lena says, trying not to let her disappointment seep into her tone too much, “have you ever thought maybe you’re matching people who aren’t meant to be together romantically?”

The mystical woman makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a snort of disbelief and a huff of amusement. “You’re—wow,” she says, dropping the silly tone, and if her voice was just a tiny bit higher, Lena would swear it was— “Listen. Yes, platonic soulmates are a thing. They’re great. We love them. Some people only have platonic soulmates. But you are not platonic soulmates with—”

“—yes but how do you know something like that, that seems hard to—”

“—it’s like talking to a brick wall,” the woman interrupts, and Lena can hear some sort of scuffle from the other end, as if someone is trying to pull the phone out of the woman’s grasp. “Look,” the woman says after a second, sounding a bit out of breath, “I’m going to tell you something I have never told anyone else. Of the three Marks, the most clear and obvious sign of two people belonging romantically together is the Mark of String.” The woman pauses, and Lena would almost swear that there’s someone else speaking to her. “Here’s what you should do. And I do this free of charge for you, because I’m highly invested in this,” she chuckles as if this is a great joke and then barrels on, “so listen carefully. Tonight, go see the woman you love. Spend the night. If you wake up with a red string tied from your pinky to hers, then you can rest assured she’s the one.”

“I don’t know if—”

“—Lena,” the woman admonishes, and Lena frowns, finally recognizing the voice. “Trust me on this.”

She goes through with it, trusting the not-so-mystical woman.

Except, when Kara sneaks towards the bed she gallantly gave up for Lena, a piece of red thread hanging from her hand, Lena sits up and clicks on the bedside table light.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Lena tells Kara.

v.

They’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, Kara sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, and Lena trying hard (and failing) to act relaxed.

“So?” she prods, gesturing to the red thread still tied to Kara’s pinky finger. “Want to explain your practical joke?”

“Joke?” Kara says in shock, shaking her head immediately. “No, Lena, it’s not a joke. Not even a little bit.”

Lena’s heart skips a few beats at that, but she maintains an impassive expression. “I don’t understand then. Why would you—”

“—remember a few months back, when I told you I loved you for the first time?” Kara interrupts, jumping to her feet and pacing in front of the couch. She doesn’t wait for Lena to respond. “It took me weeks to gather the courage to tell you. And I’d memorized the whole speech, and at the end you just looked at me like I was speaking to someone else. You told me you loved me as a friend.”

“Right, because you meant it as friends, you…” Lena trails off. “Wait.”

An odd look passes over Kara’s face, something like amusement and exasperation. “Alex told me that I needed to be direct with you. But I—even when I tried, it was like you didn’t hear me.”

(Lena thinks back to all the times Kara had said I love you and she wonders if she’s just heard what she expected to hear and not what Kara was actually trying to say.

Her heart begins to pound in her chest at the very possibility.

Did Kara really....?)

“So what? You decided to recruit Nia to pretend to be a mystical woman? To prove what exactly?”

Kara, surprisingly, looks smug. “You recognized her. I knew it. She was way off script on the phone call, and I tried to get her off the phone but she—”

“—Kara, focus. So the whole soulmate thing was fake?”

Kara winces at that. “Well. Yes, technically.” She stills, coming to a stop several feet in front of Lena. “I asked a few people to help out.”

“Wait, so the two people in the tea shop…” Lena trails off, eyes wide.

“Right, two DEO agents. They should definitely look into acting as a career, I mean they had me convinced, and I knew it was fake—”

“—and Jess?” Lena asks, feeling vaguely overwhelmed.

“Special temporary tattoos made by the DEO, easy to rub off, for both her and her partner.” When Lena is silent a touch too long, Kara rushes to explain. “I mean, it was very hard to convince her to do it. She’s incredibly protective of you, she deserves some kind of raise.”

“She does,” Lena agrees absently, getting to her feet and gesturing towards the red string in Kara’s hand. “And this?”

“We weren’t supposed to get to this. I’d hoped the first two would convince you Nia could honestly see soulmates. I was going to tie it to your pinky. The other end would be connected to me, of course,” she raises her hand with an awkward wave. “But you, um. Caught me.”

Lena bites her lip, marvelling at the sheer amount of work Kara and the others put into this. “Who made the websites? They were perfect.”

“Brainy made them,” Kara explains, a frown appearing on her lips and a crease forming between her brows. “Though I guess he made it too well, since you were suspicious of it.”

“Kara, I—” Lena’s not sure what she wants to say, and she’s glad when Kara interrupts her, taking a step closer, looking at her with an earnest expression.

“Listen,” she says, determination etched onto her features. “I love you. In a romantic way. And if there are soulmates out there, then you’re mine. That’s all this was.”

Lena feels tears well up in her eyes, blurring her vision, and she wants to duck her head, to hide, but Kara is there and saying everything she’s ever wanted to hear, and so instead she just closes the last of the distance between them and wraps her arms around Kara, holding her close, face burrowing into Kara’s neck. “All of this just to say I love you seems a bit dramatic,” she whispers, feeling Kara’s arms go around her waist, clutching her tighter.

“I figured you’d need something dramatic to believe it’s true,” Kara jokes, loosening her hold just a bit so that she can pull back and look at Lena.

“You’re my soulmate too, you know. If there are things like that out there. It was always just you.”

Kara grins brilliantly at her, pressing their foreheads together. “Finally,” she whispers.

[iliumheightnights]

Donut Date | Luther Hargreeves x Male Reader

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Pairing: Luther Hargreeves x Male Reader Summary: Luther starts questioning his sexuality.

A/N: Another co write with @inhumanshadows​! Again you should thank them for getting me to write more! haha.

...

Luther finished handing over the last of the criminals over to the authorities. "Here. Get em out of here." This was one of his solo missions so his siblings weren't with him.  With everything finished up, he began making his way back to the academy. However on his way home he spotted a bar and against everything thought, he decided he needed a drink after this particular night. Entering the bar, it was rather busy for what time of the night it was. There was a free seat at the bar and he took it while ordering himself a drink.

“This seat taken” Luther turns to the voice and sees you there, hand gesturing to an empty seat next to him.

“Uh no please sit.”

You smile and nod. “Hey Max? Two beers.”

Luther gives you a brief smile and nod himself. 

When Max hand's you the beer, you hand one to Luther. "Here. Seems like you might need another one."

Luther was going to say how he already had a drink but noticed then that he had drunk it all and only an empty bottle remained. He grabbed the new beer with another smile before lifting in a cheer. "Thanks." He started chugging it down at that.

“So... What’s your name thirsty?” You ask, sipping at your beer.

“Oh um. I’m Luther.”

“Hmm. Hi luther. The names Y/N.”

"Nice to meet you." Luther was keeping his eyes away from you. Honestly he never was one for friends or anything like that, just look how it's like with his own family. He took another swig, making the bottle get even more empty.

"You're not a people person are you?" You said, looking at Luther's face. "It's alright. Not everyone is." You take another sip of your beer before asking him another question. "So what's got you troubled? I can see that look on your face. It looks like you're contemplating all of your life choices right now, hence why you're here to drown out your problems."

“Oh. I guess so... I’ve just had a long day. And some family trouble.”

You make a sound of understanding.

“Family... enough said there my friend. Family is all kinds of crazy.”

Luther laughs. “Yeah I guess you’re right. What about you? Why are you drowning your problems away?”

“My boyfriend dumped me for my best friend... well ex best friend...”

Luther wasn't really sure how to respond to that. "Oh...I'm, sorry?"

You laughed at how he looked. "You...don't really know how to talk to people do you?"

Luther couldn't help the little smirk that showed up on his face. "That obvious huh?"

You lifted up your hands and pinched your fingers together. "Just a little bit. But that's okay, I love flustered guys."

Luther feels his face heat up, not used to what’s happening.

“I’m sorry.” You quickly say, seeing how uncomfortable he is. “Here I am being all flirty and you might not even be into guys.”

Luther blushes even more. "It's alright. No..m'not really into....I don't know." He wasn't sure what he was saying. His whole life he hadn't been into guys, he was barely into girls. He had no time to really have a relationship...but here he was feeling something. Every time he looked at your smile he couldn't help but smile himself. "Maybe I am."

You got quiet and blushed yourself. "Well then any guy would be lucky to get a chance to be with you."

Before Luther could say anything his phone went off. He fishes it out of his pocket and sighs heavily at a text from Pongo.

“I’m sorry Y/N... I-“

You place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You gotta go? You gotta go. Tell ya what.” You stop and write something down on a napkin. “Call me and maybe we can grab another drink or something.”

Luther gently grabbed the napkin, his hand slightly brushing yours. "U-ugh, Y-yeah. I'd like that." He smiled again and pulled out some money to pay for his drinks. You stopped him before. "I got this one. You get next time." 

"Thanks."

Luther leaves the bar, slipping the napkin into his pocket with a smile. 

“Well that was a good moment on an otherwise sucky day.” He says to himself.

That was a week ago. Luther hadn't stopped thinking of you since then. The napkin was on his dresser and countless time's he had typed in the number but never actually called you. Honestly, he was scared. He wasn't sure what the feelings for you were but he wanted to find out, he like how you made him feel. Typing in the number, he finally called you.

"Hello?" 

Luther hesitated but finally got the courage. "(Y/N)? It's Luther."

“Oh hey handsome! I was wondering if I’d ever hear from ya. How are you?”

“Oh I’m good. To be honest I’d been try to call you for a while. But just couldn’t get past the nerves...”

“I understand. But hey better late than never.”

“Y/N? Are you free tonight. Or maybe right now? I was wondering if you maybe wanted to grab some donuts or something?”

Luther just stared at his phone screen in silence. He was confused. 

He just technically asked you out on a date... for donuts but still.

Oh god! Is it s date?? Does he know it’s a date??

Thoughts like this continued to run through his head until there was a knock at his door.

The door opened and Diego poked his head in. "Hey have you seen my knife? I set it down and I haven't been able to- whoah. You look like you've been to hell...well more than normal."

Luther wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure what he was feeling for you and what he actually was. "I-I'm fine." He voice cracked a bit, betraying him to his brother. Diego couldn't help but laugh at his voice crack. "Whaaat the hell was that? I've never heard that before." He fully entered into the room. "Come on. What's wrong?"

“Um... I uh... met someone last week. And now I’m meeting them for donuts soon.” Luther informs.

“Okay... What’s so weird about that that makes you look like shit?” Diego asks sitting on the bed.

“Well... I really like... him.”

Diego nodded his head in understanding. "Ah. I understand now." Diego sat besides him. "I know we've had our problems and still do but...don't overthink this. Your hearts telling you one thing but your head is making you too afraid to act. Just go for it." For once, Diego actually gave him good advice.

Luther nodded his head and stood up. "Thanks. Now I have to go I have to meet him at Griddy's like now." Luther grabbed his coat and left the room. Diego smirked and called out after him. "I want to meet him!" He then began looking around. "Now...where's my knife?"

Luther made his way to Griddy's and entered. In one of the booths you were looking over a menu. Taking a breath he calmly walked over to you. "Hey (Y/N). Good to see you."

You smiled and as you saw him. "Luther! It's good to see you too, come have a seat. I'm just looking to see what I want."

Luther nods and takes a seat next to you, also looking at the menu.

You guys order a half dozen of whatever Agnes recommends, too many choices to make on your own. And who better to ask than the woman making them.

“I’m glad you called. I know I said that earlier but I really am happy you called.” You say, biting into a classic strawberry frosted.

Luther bites into his own. "Yeah, me too." For a while the two of you just eat in silence but eventually he speaks again. "Sorry. I've never been on a date before. I'm not really sure how to go about it."

"Wait this is a date?" You stare at him in shock.

Luther's eyes widen. "Oh! I just thought...I'm sorry I should have-"

You laugh and  reach over holding his arm. "Hey, I'm just fucking with you. I know it's a date and you're doing fine. First dates are always awkward."

Luther lets out a sigh.

"You okay? I know that was a bit of a dick move."

Luther gives you a warm smile. "It's fine. I think I needed that. I was kinda overthinking things... had to have my little brother convince me to 'nut up and do it' as he'd probably put it. He wants to meet you by the way."

You laugh at the story, "Well if things go good here and I do meet him, remind me to thank him."

After finishing up, Luther paid for the donuts this time. "It's only fair. you got the drinks last time."

The two of you walked close together down the sidewalk. "I'm not ready to finish yet honestly. I'm liking my time with you." You said to the man. Looking at him he seemed to be thinking of something, something that was keeping his head distracted. "Hey." No answer. "Earth to Luther hello!?" That got his attention. "What's going on?"

He didn't hesitate. "Be my boyfriend." It was rushed but you could tell he meant it. "Be my boyfriend. Please." He seemed so nervous, but so sure at the same time. 

You smiled and wrapped your arm around his. "I thought you'd never ask." Sure it was quick, but sometimes you just have to take chances.

The two of you walk leaning against the other, no particular location in mind. You walk around a nearby park until it gets too cold. 

"We can head to my house?" Luther says. 

"Sounds good... I can meet your brother, whom I have to thank for my new boyfriend."

Luther smiled but ultimately groaned. "He's never going to let me forget it either."

[staysaneathome]

This Was Not A Dare, Reigen

Jon glares at each of the— the suspects traitors in front of him, tape recorder clutched tight in one hand.

Martin, wringing his hands uselessly, eyes wide and beseeching. Tim, fists clenched hard enough for his knuckles to go white and returning his gaze with a death stare of his own. Sasha, arms folded to form a barrier between Jon and herself, expression a perfect mask of concern. Reigen, radiating disappointment in every one of his gestures and quips. Elias, eyes weary, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Some intervention this is turning out to be.

Jon wants to scream. Wants to reach out and shake someone, anyone, until they admit he’s making sense and it’s the rest of the world that’s gone mad.

Every single one of them (except Martin) could’ve killed Gertrude. He knows he has no proof that they did, but he has no proof that they didn’t either, can’t they see that? If they don’t want him to suspect them, it should be easy for them to actually give him proof of their innocence (like Martin did), instead of just repeating platitudes of “you know this isn’t acceptable adult behavior, Jon” and “you’re better than this, Jon”.

Who cares about knowing better or acceptable behavior when it’s your very life on the line? He’s half tempted to throttle the con artist, see how dignified or adult he is when he’s the one with a murderer on his tail!

…Not that Jon is a murderer. It’s just the principle of the thing, is all.

“Jon,” Elias says, tone soothing in all the ways he doesn’t want it to be. “This is absurd. This goes far beyond an unhealthy work environment. I’ll admit it’s partly my fault for letting it get this bad, I should have intervened earlier.”

Reigen cuts in with a hand gesture that is as effusive as it is dismissive. “That doesn’t make his behavior okay, Bouchard-san. It may be bad here, but Jon chose to follow me, Tim and Sasha, and yell at Martin, rather than going to the police or paying a detective, like Herlock Sholmes or something.”

Jon sputters. “Wh- It’s Sherlock Holmes, not—and he’s fictional!”

Reigen blinks sleepily, one eyebrow raised. “Oh? That doesn’t sound right. Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Jon all but shouts, rapidly reconsidering his stance on braining the sardonic little git with his tape recorder. “Don’t you even—an-and you’re deflecting again! Just like with your ridiculous ‘haunted gun’ nonsense!”

“I’m not!” Reigen says, clearly deflecting. “I’ve seen this kind of thing loads of times as the number one psychic. When a weapon kills lots of people over 100 years, the bad energy gets bigger and bigger until the gun grows an evil spirit and is hungry—”

“I refuse to believe Gertrude Robinson was murdered by a sentient blunderbuss!!”

“Be that as it may,” Elias interrupts, shooting them both a stern frown. “This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about, Jon. Given how badly it’s affected your work ethic, I will be taking direct action to ensure it does not continue.”

Jon can feel his shoulders hunch almost against his will, dread pooling in his stomach at the thought of whatever punishment is about to be unjustly inflicted on him.

Only Martin looks half as worried as he feels, glancing between him and Elias nervously. By contrast, Tim looks downright triumphant, smirk nasty and vindictive. Sasha’s somewhere between those two, not openly celebrating his soon-to-be-downfall, but not acting like she’d lift a finger on his behalf either, though he’s unsure why that feels like it should surprise him. She’s always been as neutral as Switzerland.

Reigen, oddly enough, has more in common with Martin than with Tim. He’s staring at Elias like he’s waiting for a bit of news he knows he won’t like.

Jon thinks he’d appreciate that more if he wasn’t about to be unfairly lambasted simply for trying to stop a murderer and bring justice for an old woman who probably died frightened and alone. Much like Jon probably will once he’s been hobbled by whatever Elias is about to say next.

“Such as by restricting access to the archives from members of the public who are ultimately doing you more harm than good.”

…Wait.

What?

“What?!” Tim, Martin, and Sasha echo.

Reigen glances between them all, blinking in confusion.

Jon shares the sentiment entirely. His punishment is…for someone else to be removed from the archives? Someone he doesn’t employ or even like that much, no less?

He must have misheard, surely.

Though maybe not, given how Tim looks aghast, glancing between Elias and Reigen. “Okay, no, Reigen’s clearly not the problem here—”

“I’m very sorry, Tim, but Jon has made several remarks about the disruptive nature of Mr. Arataka’s presence in the archives.” Elias sighs. “From the arguments like the one we just witnessed to the nonsensical purchases of oddities inspired by his presence, such as Duolingo subscriptions,” Meaningful glare at Jon who resists the urge to clutch his phone guiltily, “That are now billed on the Archives’ expenses, it unfortunately seems as though he is dragging down productivity for all of you as an active stressor.”

“But we’re much better equipped to take statements from people who don’t speak English because of that!” Martin protests, stepping forward. “Isn’t it an advantage to have a more, more international perspective for our work?”

“One positive in a sea of negatives does not an advantage make.” Elias says, sounding infuriatingly like he’s misquoting something. “And really Martin, how realistic is it that this would help in more than a few isolated cases? I expected better from you.”

Martin’s face crumples, and his shoulders hunch, making himself smaller.

Jon finds his own mouth opening to—what? Say something? What would he even say?

Luckily, Sasha intervenes before he can dig his own grave further. “That’s as may be, but he’s a wonder for morale. He and Jon are funny, not anything serious, and I don’t think we’d have come to you about Jon‘s behavior unless he encouraged us to—”

“Which only fits into the delusion where Jon feels an outsider is rallying his subordinates against him, which is not good for his paranoid outlook.” Elias replies calmly. “And it’s never a healthy work environment when one employee feels the others are making them the butt of a joke.”

“I’d say that’s not as bad as when the boss feels he has the right to violate everyone’s privacy whenever he wants to just ’cause he’s feeling sad!” Tim growls.

Elias begins to answer, before Reigen finally speaks up.

“Sorry,” The con artist says carefully. “But you are…«I know this one…» banning me from the Archives? Yes?”

“That is the long and short of it, yes.” Elias says, grudgingly

“Why?” Reigen challenges, eyes hard and searching. “What have I, personally, done that’s wrong here? What behavior do I need to correct?”

There’s a moment of silence. The whirring of the tape recorder sounds uncomfortably loud.

“Mr. Arataka, are you currently under the employ of the Magnus Institute?” Elias asks, brow furrowed.

“Ah, no, no, but—”

“Are you looking to become employed by the Institute at this point in time, as a prospective member of the Archival Staff?” He fires off rapidly.

“Su-Sorry, but if you could just go a little slower—”

“Then I am afraid that unless you’re looking to fill out an employment contract or a Statement form, we cannot help you, Mr. Arataka.” Elias spreads his hands wide. “We are an academic institution, a place of research and learning. The Institute cannot allow for social dalliances on company time, especially not when those visits are negatively contributing to the work environment and the wellbeing of our staff.”

Tim throws up his hands, “I-I cannot believe this!”

Reigen’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment.

“Arataka is my…what do you call it? First name?” He says, at last. “Using it in this context is…inappropriate. Please call me Reigen, if you would, Bouchard-san.”

“Of course. My mistake, Mr. Reigen.” Elias does have the decency to look somewhat abashed. “Though, regrettably, I am going to have to ask you to leave the premises within the next twenty minutes, or I will be forced to call security.”

Reigen nods, jerkily, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Jon almost wants to call out to the fraud as he turns to go, grab him by the shoulder, pick another argument, something. He knows he should be happy, be glad that this thorn in his side will finally stop bothering him, but instead he just feels—befuddled. Off-kilter.

What happened to the man who once spent three hours arguing for the “spiritual effectiveness” of entirely performative and useless rituals, saying that ensuring his clients left his office fooled and contented was better than actually uncovering genuine supernatural forces and learning all there was to know about them? Why is he going so-so easily now, when he’s made Jon fight tooth and nail in every debate he’s had with the so-called psychic?

At the door, the con man pauses.

“Bouchard-san. You said I could come back if I had a statement to give?”

Elias shifts in his seat, looking bemused. “W-well, yes. That is a service we do provide. Of course, the statement would have to be genuine, and verifiable as such before we let you back into the Archives.”

“We don’t even do that for most of the rubbish we do take,” Tim mutters under his breath, and though Jon is glad he’s not the one being shot a quelling look, he does have to agree.

The con man turns back.

He’s got that smirk on his face that immediately puts Jon’s hackles up on instinct, prepared to argue against whatever inane point he’s come up with now to defend his phony psychic title.

“Gotcha.” Reigen says, far too cheerfully. «Ja ne.»

Then he strolls out of the office, as cool as a cucumber.

Jon could even swear he hears him whistling as he makes his way down the stairs.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“I’d do him.” Sasha pipes up, unhelpfully.

“Sasha!” Martin hisses, scandalized. “D-don’t you have a, a—”

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about that.” She remarks, far too blasé for someone in a newly committed relationship. “Tom’s heard about him too, and he agreed he’s just our type.”

“And I’m not?” Tim jokes, but there’s a hard edge to it that Jon’s found himself increasingly familiar with in the past few weeks.

Sasha shrugs with a mischievous little smile, as if that mattered very little to her.

Elias coughs. “Right. Well. Whatever your relations to Mr. Reigen are, please try to limit them to outside the workplace in future.”

The rest of the intervention is surprisingly subdued. Elias gives Jon access to the footage from the cameras in the rest of the Institute, and Tim bodychecks him on the way out of the office, muttering about how nice it must be to never face any consequences for his actions. Sasha follows, the way she won’t meet his eyes a condemnation in its own right.

Even Martin doesn’t say anything to him, just bites his lip and hurries past back down to the Archives. It doesn’t sting. It doesn’t.

Even as he settles in to watch and rewatch the CCTV records of Gertrude’s last week alive, Jon can’t shake the ridiculous feeling of foreboding that’s dogged him since Reigen left.

Most of him wants to say it comes from the fact that despite the fact that Reigen has not appeared in any of the camera records for the Magnus Institute before he started his term as Head Archivist in 2016, isn’t banning him from the Archives just letting the con man run around London with impunity, with no way for Jon to ascertain his movements or motives? That instead of solving a problem, Elias has just given a potential murderer free reign to escape?

But a small part of Jon, one that never could deny the sensation of being watched, that is frozen in second-hand terror whenever he reads a Statement, knows, Knows that it this stems more from the idea that the fraud will actually accomplish what Elias has unwittingly challenged him to do.

The illogical but pervasive surety that he will do so.

Jon’s not sure if he’s more afraid that Reigen Arataka will vanish entirely, another unfortunate victim become an unsolved mystery.

Or that he’ll come back, and bring whatever he’s managed to unearth on his insane quest with him.

[boxesandrings]

Hello!! I just recently got into the stardew fandom and I'm notice a severe lack of Elliot content ;-; could I please get something fluffy and/or explicit with him and an afab or gender neutral farmer?? Hope you have a good day!!

Hello! It took me a while to decide if I wanted to do a smut or a fluff, but ultimately I decided a fluff, just because I love Elliott so much and wanted to see his soft and lovey side (also, I just published a smut of him on my AO3, and if you want to read it you can click here). Hope you enjoy!

Title: Dedicated

Rating: G

Summary: Elliott dedicated his novel to the Farmer, but the Farmer gets confused and thinks it's for someone else. Reassuring fluff ensues.

Characters: Elliott, nb!Farmer, Leah, Maru, Lewis, Gunther

Words: 2741

Elliott was not a nervous person. There never really was a reason for him to be— things tended to work out for him. School came naturally to him, and any poor grades were often changed for him after pleading his case to his teachers. Elliott only applied to his dream school and was accepted easily, and excelled within his program. He slept with the people he wanted, because they always wanted to sleep with him too, and when he decided on a whim to move to Pelican Town, the breezy seaside town he frequented on vacations as a child, the cabin was already there, almost as if waiting for him. Things worked out.

The Farmer, however, made him nervous. They arrived a little over a year after he did, and Elliott couldn’t help but find the newcomer intimidating. They’d spend long days out in the sun, tilling the earth or wrangling chickens. Elliott would often step out of his cabin early in the morning to enjoy the stillness of the beach, only to find the Farmer already there, holding a fishing pole. They were non-stop, powerful. Elliott couldn’t help but feel inadequate around them, his stomach fluttered every time he spoke to the new Farmer.

Their short, shoulder length golden hair and long, muscular legs didn’t make anything easier either. The first summer after the Farmer had moved to town, Elliott had been so mesmerized by the way the Farmer’s back muscles looked as they helped Willy move some barrels on the dock that he hadn’t noticed the firepit in front of his house and tripped on the rocks, breaking his wrist.

He’d never had trouble flirting with other people before; Elliott knew he looked good and drew people in with his artistic vibe, and who would be able to resist his 10,000 megawatt smile? But for some reason the Farmer was different. He’d get flustered anytime the Farmer spoke to him, but for some reason the Farmer kept coming back.

He kissed the Farmer almost two months ago now, their stomachs both burning and heads dizzy from the homemade pomegranate wine the Farmer had made. Elliott had been bold and messy, and instantly had regretted how he had pulled the Farmer in, but they just smiled and kissed him again, over and over until the night sky grew bright. Elliott had bought a proper bouquet the next day, and the relationship had been going well since.

Elliott scanned the museum now, looking for his partner. After his book had been picked up and published by a proper agency a month ago, Mayor Lewis had insisted upon a proper book reading and signing event. The Mayor had told Elliott it was to honor his accomplishments, to celebrate Pelican Town’s first proper author, but Elliott had the feeling it was more about the potential revenue the tourists might bring in.

The Farmer walked into the museum, their arms linked between both Maru and Leah’s, the three of them laughing as they shuffled in. Elliott waved, and the Farmer waved back, face beaming with pride. The group slipped toward the back of the crowd, leaning against the display shelves. As if on cue, the Mayor walked up to the microphone on the makeshift stage Gunther had set up in the museum and addressed the crowd, introducing Elliott and reminding the tourists of all Pelican Town’s many amenities. Elliott rolled his eyes at the Farmer who giggled with their friends, and made his way up behind Lewis.

“Thank you all, for coming today. It truly is so exciting to see that in the short time my novel has been out how many people it resonated with, how many of you traveled to see me.” He bit his lip and scanned the room, attempting to gauge the interest of the crowd. A young woman up front threw him a look Elliott could describe as bedroom eyes, and he coughed, quickly looking away.

“Well, I’m certainly excited to start this, as I’m sure you all are.” A small laugh from the crowd, agreement. “The book, as some of you may know, is Camellia Station, a romance about a stewardess who falls in love with a travelling architect, and the great distances each would go for their love.” He picked up the book. “Shall we begin?

The crowd let out a small cheer, and just from listening, Elliott could tell it was mostly from his friends in town. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ears, and cracked open the cover.

“Camellia Station.” A small smattering of cheers, this time from a larger section of the crowd. He flipped the page, his breath hitching.

To My Love.

He had forgotten he had written that, almost eight months ago when he had sent in the final draft of his manuscript. The love in question, of course, was the Farmer, who hadn’t known how maddeningly in love he was with them at the time, and still hadn’t heard the words from Elliott himself. It was so quick, and they had only been on a few proper dates.

Elliott realized he had been silent staring at the page. Only for three, maybe five seconds, but long enough. He looked up, flashing a sheeping smile. “Sorry, it’s just hard to believe this is finally happening.” Some members of the crowd laughed, and Elliott cleared his throat.

“To my love.” He flipped the page quickly, and heard the young woman in the front row sigh dreamily. “Chapter One. 'Your ticket, sir?' Ticket collector Gozman extended a gloved hand towards the young commuter. 'Ah, yes. I have it right here,' he replied, reaching into his coat pocket. Mortified, he discovered that the ticket was missing..."

********************************************

The rest of the reading went off without a hitch. At the end of the second chapter, Elliott closed the novel and looked up at the crowd, a playful smile on his lips. “As much as I’d love to continue, we must return the museum back to its generous owner, who provided us the space to conduct this event. Thank you all so much for coming to listen and share this day with me.”

The audience began to clap, some more enthusiastically than others, and Elliott blushed as he heard the Farmer’s group being especially rowdy from the back. People began to line up to purchase copies of his book or to have him sign ones they already owned. After 20 or so minutes of signatures and well wishes, Elliott looked up to see Maru, Leah, and the Farmer smiling back down at him.

“Ellie! I’m so proud of you!” Leah practically leapt over the desk to get to him, pulling him into a hug much tighter than he would have ever expected.

“Leah! Thank you. I’m so glad you all came.” He wiggled his way out of her arms and smiled at Maru. “I’m glad you were able to make it.” Maru smiled back at him and nodded.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it.” Maru had been a surprising addition to their friend group. Before the Farmer, it had been just him and Leah, two aspiring artists against the world. It wasn’t that they didn’t like or get along with her, they just didn’t run in the same circles. The Farmer had quickly bonded with Maru after arriving, though, and as they moved their way into Elliott and Leah’s lives, Maru came along for the ride. Now, Elliott could barely picture the group without her.

“Congrats, El.” The Farmer walked behind the table now and wrapped their arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. Elliott smiled, wrapping an arm around his partner.

“Were you hoping to get an autograph as well?” The Farmer pursed their lips and looked up, a pantomime of thought.

“Actually, I know the author, so I think I can just get one whenever I want.” Elliott laughed.

“Certainly.” He looked back up at the two women. “Seriously, though, I’m so glad you were all able to come today. It really means a lot to me.” Maru nodded, but Leah came right back up to the couple and wrapped them both in her arms.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have missed it for anything!” Leah brought the couple into her, her arms around both, tears in her eyes. “I love you all so much! Maru, you too! Get in here.”

Maru sighed behind them but smiled and made her way into the huddle, Leah’s arms encompassing her as well. She stood for a moment, humming quietly as she held her friends.

“Leah? Not to be the buzzkill, but almost everyone has left and Gunther is staring directly at us.” Elliott shuffled uncomfortably as the rest of the group spotted the curator. Leah let go of her friends, and began to make her way toward the door, apologizing as she went. Maru followed quickly after, and the Farmer and Elliott made their way out hand in hand.

“Yeah! I think it went super. You sounded really good up there.” Elliott stepped ahead, opening the door for the Farmer.

“Do you think it went well?” Elliott looked down at his partner. The Farmer nodded, looking at Elliott through the corner of their eye.

“Thanks.” Elliott appreciated the praise, but something had seemed off in the Farmer’s tone. Was it not actually good? Did they hate the book? Elliott felt nervous.

“Everything okay?” The Farmer paused, then turned to face Elliott, a weary smile on their face.

“Yeah! I just had to get up a little earlier this morning to make sure I had everything taken care of before the reading.” Elliott nodded, but the pit in the bottom of his stomach remained. “Are you still down for dinner at mine tonight?”

Elliott cheered up almost instantly. How could he have forgotten dinner?

“Of course! Let’s go, straight away!” He grabbed the Farmer’s hand and began to strut, his chest puffed out in a caricature of strength. The Farmer laughed, almost tripping as they tried to keep up with Elliott’s stride.

Once at the Farmer’s home, Elliott pulled up his hair and began the task of preparing dinner. Without a proper kitchen in his cabin, Elliott’s culinary prowess was wasted. In the Farmer’s renovated kitchen, however, he relished any chance to show off his skills. The Farmer opted for a shower while he prepared their meal, claiming to be covered in grime from the morning on the farm, but something in Elliott’s stomach twisted again, unsure if his partner’s words were true.

Lost in his thoughts, Elliott didn’t notice when the Farmer appeared behind him, wrapping their arms around his stomach as they peaked around his shoulders to watch the action on the stove. “Whatchya cooking?” Elliott twisted to kiss the Farmer’s head and inhaled deeply, promising to commit the smell of the Farmer’s shampoo, cedar and smoke, to memory.

“I’m just putting the sear on some snapper that I bought from Willy this morning, would you be a dear and get the wine from the fridge?” The Farmer nodded, and their arms slipped away as they padded to the fridge. Elliott heard the pour behind him; the ting of the neck of the bottle against the glasses. The Farmer walked back up beside him, holding one glass between them.

“Do you want a taste?” Elliott nodded, expecting the Farmer to hand him the glass, but was surprised when the Farmer lifted the glass to his lips, a serious and intent look in their eyes. Elliott drank from the glass without breaking eye contact, attempting to play it cool, even as he gripped the handle of the pan tighter. He felt another tinge in his stomach, but this one wasn’t from nerves.

“Why darling,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “it’s not yet time for dessert.” The Farmer smiled, their lips still pressed together and kissed Elliott’s cheek and turned, making their way to the table. Elliott turned his attention back to the fish and turned off the burner and began to plate, unsure now if the meal would be eaten right away after all.

As he carried the plates over to the table, the Farmer smiled and scratched their head. “I feel bad, I really should have cooked tonight. It’s your big day after all.” Elliot sat next to the Farmer, kissing their forehead quickly on his way.

“Nonsense. I love to cook, and any day I get the opportunity to only makes the day better.” The Farmer smiled, but Elliott noticed that their leg continued to bounce quickly underneath the table. He bit his lip. “Darling-”

“El, did I— oh.” The couple paused, eyeing each other.

“I just wanted to ask if everything was okay.” Elliott pursed his lips. The Farmer chuckled nervously and ran a hand through their damp hair.

Elliott blinked and set down his fork, confused. “What?” The Farmer leaned forward, regret in their eyes.ing your reading today, did I… was I the other person, like did my presence impact your last relationship?”

Elliott blinked and set down his fork, confused. “What?” The Farmer leaned forward, regret in their eyes.

“I’m not saying something happened or that you cheated or anything, I would never imply that, but I know when I came here I was kinda flirty and obviously you were into that but I thought you were single.” The Farmer was animated as they rambled, their hands waving about. “And I mean I’m happy to be with you, I prefer it this way, but I’d feel terrible if I somehow caused stress in your relationships at all—”

Elliott grabbed the Farmer’s hands and pulled them in toward him, drawing their attention back in. He shook his head, confused.

“Darling, I don’t— What are you talking about?” The Farmer bit their lip and looked down again.

“At the reading, the dedication… I mean, it was sweet, but you sent in the final draft, what, almost a year ago now? And the story was very good, you know I think that, but I couldn’t help but think about that and how… if I was some kind of topic of stress in whatever… you know.” The Farmer looked back up, eyes misty.

Elliott laughed. He couldn’t help it. This is what the Farmer had been stressed about? He could understand if, certainly, but their own nerves almost seemed silly compared to his. The Farmer tilted their head, waiting for Elliott to answer.

When he finally calmed down, Elliott shook his head and picked his fork back up, studying his food as he cut off a piece of the fish. “No, it’s been… my last true relationship was many, many years ago, long before I came to the valley.”

“Oh.” The Farmer nodded, but Elliot could hear the confused tone in their voice.

“The dedication was for you.” He looked back up at the Farmer, smiling. The Farmer blinked and opened their mouth to speak, but Elliott cut them off. “I know, but… in all honesty, I truly think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, dear.” The Farmer smiled now, the misty look returning to their eyes.

“Oh, El.” They giggled and moved their chair closer to his, and slid a hand around the back of his neck.

“I really do believe from the moment I first saw you, I fell for you,” Elliott continued. “You had my heart.” The Farmer let out another small giggle and leaned forward, pulling Elliott’s head in toward theirs for a kiss, deep and soft and tender.

When they pulled away, the Farmer leaned their forehead against his. “I love you too, Elliott.” They chuckled and bit their lip, eyes scanning his. “I know I don’t have some grand gesture or… beautiful speech to tell you with, but I do.” Elliott nodded, and kissed his partner again.

Elliott stood up, his arms still around the Farmer, pulling them up with him. He pulled the Farmer in flush against him, their bodies pressed together as he tried to continue to kiss them, unable to maintain the connection as he fought his smile.

“That’s alright darling, your love is grand enough.” The Farmer laughed as Elliott tried to pull them into an even tighter embrace..

“My Love.” The Farmer smiled as they studied Elliot’s face. Elliott’s hand made its way to the Farmer’s cheek, stroking the skin with his thumb.

“My love.”

[jinxxedwammys]

Ok hear me out. I’ve listened to “Sway with me (slowed)” by Cytus II and I have this whole imagine of the reader at a masquerade ball as an undercover agent, and as The Wammy Bois (preferably L or Near) S/O or crush. Well the situation turns for the worst and L (or near) rushes out into the party (he was originally watching on cams) to get a hold of the situation to either like confront the Bad Guy or just protect the reader. Idk I think about it when I listen to the song. Love your writing btw

Aww thanks anon, I'm glad you like my writing! And damn, I like this one a lot! This calls for a fic. Thanks for requesting! (Not me accidentally making this somewhat like that ball scene in Black Butler.. oof)

For this I chose L and decided not to do Near, I hope that's okay.

Warnings: Mentions of human trafficking, Main antagonist being a creep, daggers.

(Image from some wallpaper site and very lightly and badly edited with befunky)

The night was young, the sun had only just set below the horizon plunging the city into darkness. At 8PM this night there was a masquerade ball at a very wealthy businessman's mansion. As all the high society guests exited their limousines and luxury cars escorted by servants you stood staring at the lavish mansion.

"I feel so out of place here... Do I really blend in enough?" You quietly asked Watari who stood beside you as your "servant". You shifted uncomfortably and looked to him for an answer.

"Yes, of course you do. You fit in very well. Please do not worry, I'm sure you will be alright in there." He bowed before reentering the drivers seat of the vehicle you'd arrived in. You took a deep breath before carefully ascending the marble stairs leading to he door. Before you could be noticed by anyone in particular, you placed the earpiece you had been provided in your ear disguising it with your hair.

Unlike the other guests, tonight wasn't about enjoyment or entertainment for you. You were assisting with an investigation into one of the high class men attending this party known as Daniel Grant. He had been suspected of human trafficking, though it seems he had been doing more than just that. A recent investigation by the private investigator known only to the public as L suggested that he may potentially be behind multiple murders in the area. As it happens, you were the lynchpin in solving this case and getting the evidence needed to put Daniel Grant and all involved behind bars.

He seemed to target young people between the ages of 18 and 25. As it happens, you were perfect for that role. You were also a police officer. So only two weeks ago, you had been asked to assist the one and only L. Of course, when he contacted you, you were overjoyed. Finally, something more interesting than petty crime! But now, as you entered the lavish mansion you were far less confident than you were when you initially joined.

You knew L was watching the camera feeds from the CCTV system, but it still didn't calm your nerves. You nervously approached the table where the guest sign in book was placed, carefully signing your alias. Then you made your way to the ballroom where the party was held. You took a deep breath and adjusted your mask before entering into the room.

Inside, everyone was chatting amongst themselves every single person dressed very formally, women in beautiful ballgowns, men in fancy suits. Every single one wore a masquerade mask, some plain and simple, some adorned with gemstones, lace and other ornate designs. Everyone went silent when one man tapped his glass with a fork.

"Hello everyone, I'd like to thank you for attending tonight. Thank you all for celebrating my niece's 20th birthday with us" He motioned to a young girl blonde girl wearing a dark pink dress with a black lace mask. Everyone gave a short applause in response. "Please enjoy yourselves" He bowed slightly. You hadn't known this was a birthday party beforehand. You wondered what Daniel Grant had to do with this girl. About 20 minutes into the party, you decided to check in with L as you hadn't heard a thing from him since you arrived. You excused yourself to the bathroom.

"L are you listening?" You asked quietly and waited for a response.

"Yes, I am, is anything wrong?" He asked. You shook your head before you realized he couldn't see you right now, there were no cameras in the bathroom.

"N..No, I haven't seen Daniel yet either... I was just making sure you were there." you hurriedly replied.

"Mmh, I'll guide you to him if you would like, I can see him on the cameras." He replied clearly eating something.

"Okay, please do!" You left the bathroom and reentered the ballroom doing your best to hide the fact that you were scanning the room for the suspect. L's voice came over the earpiece again, this time instructing you to look for a woman in an emerald green dress near the center of the room. You entered the crowd of guests. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw the woman L had been talking about. She was in fact talking to Daniel Grant. They seemed to know each other. You stayed back, waiting for L to say something.

"Seems like you found them, stay back for a little while, I'll tell you when to approach" He said. You of course didn't respond since you were surrounded by others in earshot. You casually checked your pockets and approached another guest making small talk to kill time. You had taken your eyes off of him for a second, and the moment you looked back, the niece was talking to him. L seemed to notice as well.

"Daniel is currently talking to an important innocent. Please intervene now." You looked around the room before casually approaching the two.

"Hello, I came to wish you a happy birthday!" You said, sort of putting yourself between them. She nodded, thanking you and went back to talking with Daniel. You sighed in annoyance, but persisted.

"Hey, could you by any chance show me to the washroom? I've been looking for it and I just can't find it" You asked. She looked at Daniel, excusing herself from their conversation before leading you to said washroom.

"I'm sorry for inconveniencing you... Oh.. and I think it would be best if you stayed away from that man." She gave you a quizzical look.

"Why is that? He's one of my mother's friends." She asked. You were kind of shocked. Another detail L had left out. You questioned if he trusted you before ultimately banishing the thought. Of course he trusted you. You wouldn't be the one confronting the guy if he didn't.

"Just trust me, he's no good" You warned. It was clear that she didn't take your words seriously whatsoever. She scoffed and left. Now what? You wondered. And just like that, L's voice came through again.

"I want you to talk to him, try your best to get him away from her." Immediately you left the bathroom and made your way back to the ballroom again. By now, there were a few people dancing. Unfortunately Daniel seemed to be one of them, but you had a plan. Dance your way to him! You started off with a tall man with a purple tie, then to an average height lady in a light blue dress, then a lady with a fuchsia pink dress, and so on until finally, you were dancing with Daniel.

"You're the person who rudely interrupted my lovely conversation with the guest of honor" He observed. His voice was cold, though there was a tinge of intrigue.

"And what of it?" You sort of snapped. He smirked, it sent chills up your spine. You backed away slightly, but he closed the distance.

"Oooh, I like them feisty" He growled into your ear. You couldn't help your face twisting in disgust at that.

"Why don't we go... somewhere more private" He suggested. It was then that L's voice came on through your earpiece.

"Go with him, I want to see what he'll do" You gulped. You really didn't want to go anywhere with that creep. But L's orders... You nodded and Daniel led you upstairs. You both stood in front of a bedroom door. He opened it, directing you to go inside. As you did, his eyes seemed to undress you. It was then that he took out a dagger holding it to your neck.

Meanwhile, L sat in his temporary investigation headquarters observing your actions. He had just stuck a piece of cake in his mouth when you had been attacked. He had not expected Daniel to be armed. You were in grave danger and he knew it. He immediately stood up, the fork clattered to the ground and the plate the cake had been on shattered as it hit the floor. He didn't care.

"Y/N, hang in there, I'll be there soon" he quickly said to you before rushing to get Watari and speed off to the party. The car ride seemed to take forever. Every second of it, he watched and listened. Daniel seemed to be just threatening you for the time being, but at any second, he might just kill you. The very second they arrived, L clumsily jumped out of the car and rushed up the stairs to the manor, past the guards outside and up another flight of stairs to where you were.

L had for the first time in his life, brought a gun in case things got even more ugly, but he doubted he'd need it. Daniel didn't seem like the type to be bold enough to kill in front of another person. Even so, he gripped the gun before entering.

"Let them go!" L commanded. Daniel's head snapped in his direction.

"Get out, this is none of your business" Daniel said, turning back to you.

"It is my business, that happens to by my significant other you have there." You blinked. Significant other? Is he acting? You thought before mentally reprimanding yourself for thinking that now. L moved a little closer.

"Oh.... She is... I'm sorry" Daniel backed away. It was kind of comical how he looked like a scolded dog. You stood up and walked towards L, glancing back a few times at Daniel to ensure he wasn't going to get violent again. And without another word, L led you out of the manor to safety. Though there was one question burning in your chest. When you were safely in the car you decided to voice it.

"L... Do you actually like me?" L turned to you, his expression was completely unreadable.

"Yes" He said almost monotonously. But that was good enough for you.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Hello there! Idk if you’re still taking requests, so if you aren’t, ignore this! But I was wondering if you could write Diego x reader, where she meets his siblings for the first time, and at first it’s kinda awkward, but then they get more comfortable and maybe just like fluff after when they get back home? It might be totally stupid but idk. I love your writing!💕💕

A/N: Babe, it’s totally not stupid at all. Meeting the family shenanigans is basically the perfect trope for this show.  Sort of accidentally ended up a sequel to this fic, so I ran with it.  Word Count: 1678 Content Warnings: Season 2 spoilers

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Diego asked, gripping your hand tightly as the two of you walked toward the restaurant. “It’s not too late for us to just leave.”

“Diego Hargreeves, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you didn’t want me to meet your family,” you teased, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s one dinner, it’ll be okay.”

“You say that now,” he muttered and you rolled your eyes affectionately in response before pulling open the door and walking inside.

When you gave your names to the hostess, she smiled brightly and told you that the rest of your party was already waiting for you, before leading you to a large table in a private room off the main dining area. Four pairs of eyes turned to you appraisingly. You swallowed nervously and put on a smile of you own.

“Hi everyone, sorry we’re late,” you said, taking one of the two empty seats, somewhat awkwardly as Diego still refused to let go of your hand. “Someone didn’t believe me that traffic was going to be a nightmare on a Friday night.”

One of the women at the table, who you vaguely recognized from a cheesy romance playing on late-night cable and therefore deduced was Allison smiled in a way that felt indulgent and false; it didn’t quite reach her eyes; it was rehearsed.

“Oh he never listens to anybody, don’t take it personally, Y/N,” the smaller of the two men said, stretching across the table and offering you a broad grin and a hand with the word hello tattooed on it. “I’m Klaus, and you’re the gorgeous creature my brother’s decided to shack up with, huh?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his greeting, shaking his hand politely while Diego glared. “Nice to meet you Klaus,” you said with a smile.

“You know, I already like you better than his last two girlfriends. You haven’t tried to arrest or kill me!”

“Sorry what? Is that a joke?” you frowned in confusion as you let go of his hand and leaned back, glancing over at Diego to see his tight jaw and stony face, clear indications that he was upset.

You hand sought his under the table and you gave it a gentle squeeze, drawing his gaze to you and smiling at him.

‘It’s all good, relax,’ you mouthed.

“No I’m deadly serious,” Klaus continued. “For a while he was with this lady cop on-again/off-again style and she’d arrest me for drugs when she caught me around. Until she was tragically murdered by time-travelling assassins who kidnapped me looking for Five. Then while we were in the 60s, he fell for this girl from the nuthouse who turned out to be a plant and totally tried to kill us!” He gave a pained little chuckle, as if to say, ‘can you believe that?’

You stared at him, open-mouthed and aghast.

“Ignore Klaus, he’s never known when to shut up a day in his life,” the woman you had first noticed said. “I’m Allison.”

Klaus shot her a look that somehow combined a pout and a glare, but fell silent. You felt some of the tension sink out of Diego beside you, though he still didn’t seem comfortable. You smiled at her.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” you said, still trying to shake off the information Klaus had given (which seemed to line up with what the small, angry brother who was oddly not at dinner had said, and was far too much to actually process at the moment).

You turned to the two who hadn’t yet spoken. “So you must be Luther and Vanya?”

The man nodded, shifting in his seat and giving you an awkward little wave. The other woman glowered at you and said nothing. You frowned, wondering what you had done to earn her ire already.

Allison cleared her throat. “We ordered some bruschetta and sangria for the table before you arrived.”

The rest of dinner passed in much the same way as those first moments: Luther was mostly silent and clearly uncomfortable (whether with your presence or very fact of being out in public seemed unclear) but he started to relax and warm up as the evening went on, even once or twice sharing a stiff joke; Vanya was cold, barely responsive to your attempts to engage with her; Allison tried to play the hostess and keep topics light and small-talk-esque, breaking long silences with new conversations, obviously trying her best but ultimately resulting in a stilted performance; Klaus blurted out evidently whatever thoughts passed through his mind, usually bizarre and outlandish, sometimes profound and deeply sad. It was like none of them knew how to be normal people or have dinner with their sibling’s significant other, or an average conversation and you couldn’t help but feel oddly warmed by that, but the fact that they were so…human.

You did your best to keep up with all of them, appreciating Allison’s best efforts, laughing at some of Klaus’s jokes or countering his philosophical points, trying not to call too much attention to Luther or make him feel put on the spot. Diego felt his heart swell with pride at how well you did, and how you took everything in stride, even as the minutes seemed to drag on and he started to fear that dinner would never end.

The only thing that kept rankling at you was Vanya’s attitude, so when she got up to go to the bathroom, you excused yourself as well, cornering her in the hall of the restaurant.

“Hey, no offense, but what the hell is your problem with me?” you asked, tilting your head to one side, more curiosity than animosity in your tone.

She rolled her eyes, trying to push past you, but you resolutely blocked her path.

“I know I’m dating Diego and there’s like a whole weird history there or whatever, but don’t I at least deserve a chance before you decide to treat me like the devil?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”                                        

“You seem nice, and you’re…normal. Our family doesn’t do well with that,” she explained, folding her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to do the whole friendly, welcome to the family or whatever bullshit. Cus you’re either going to turn out not actually normal and screw us over, or you’re going to turn out actually normal and get hurt or bail before you do.”

You stared at her for a long, silent moment.

“I’m not going anywhere. I love Diego, and I think for all that they’re weird, I like your family a lot.”

“You say that for now, but we’ll see.”

“If there’s really no way for me to change your mind, fine, but maybe the reason people leave is just because you shove them away.”

You turned and returned to the table with that, not giving her a chance to respond. You still weren’t thrilled, but at least you felt like you understood her better now, and she seemed to soften toward you at least a little for the rest of the evening.

By the time the check came (a check you noticed that Allison picked up without even glancing at the numbers) you felt like you had really gotten to know Diego’s siblings, and seen a different side of him as he slowly loosened up around them.

As you all got up to leave, it became a chain of “it was nice to meet you”s and “we should do this again”s. Allison moved in for a hug and you returned it happily enough. Luther patted you on the shoulder awkwardly, his big hand enveloping it as if you were a child, surprising you with his size more close up than the other end of the table. Klaus moved as if to follow you home, and then pouted much like a stray puppy when Diego gave him a stern look that communicated without words that he was not allowed to do so. Then he turned to you and hugged you. But where Allison’s was polite and somewhat formal, Klaus’s was anything but, his long limbs folding around you and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“It was sooo good to meet you,” he purred in your ear. “And I’m glad Diego found you.” He pulled back to look you in the eye, his hands still resting on your upper arms. “I mean it. You’re good for him. Take care of him.”

“I will,” you said with a smile. “And you take care of yourself.”

Vanya offered you a polite nod, and you took what you could get.

~

“Y/N, I’m so sorry about tonight,” Diego sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he sank down onto the couch.

“What are you talking about D? It was fine.” You hung your coat on one of the pegs near the door and then, with a roll of your eyes, picked up his from where he’d tossed it on the floor and hung it as well.

“It was torture. In fact I think I’d rather be tortured.”

“I mean sure it was awkward, and your family’s a little weird, but I knew going in not to expect anything else.”

“It didn’t make you regret the day you ever met me?”

You dropped onto the couch next to him, leaning into his side and tilting your head to kiss him, smiling against his mouth.

“I could never regret that babe.”

His arm circled your shoulders, drawing you closer as he returned your kiss fervently. He groaned as you pressed against him and ran your tongue over his lower lip, opening up to invite you in. It wasn’t often that he let you take the lead, so you took full advantage while you could, pressing him back against the cushions and straddling his lap, running your hands through his hair.

“Besides,” you said, pulling back to smile teasingly. “Now I won’t feel so bad when you meet my family.”

[taekooktimeline]

1/2 I’m so glad you’re answering asks again! I really value your opinion when it comes to taekook. I’ve noticed many of the recent asks seem a little skeptical, which I don’t understand. I just keep thinking back to the 2020 Grammys. It wasn’t an accident that they wore matching outfits to such a huge event, posed as a couple on the red carpet when the other members started to move ahead, wore rings on their left hands, etc. Is it just me or was this a really big deal?

Kayla: well said anon and I totally agree 😭honestly by the end of the week after episode 6 of IST released, I was so drained and angry at how people were reacting. I don’t know why people fixated on it over all the other events leading up to that, other than I truly feel people actively seek negativity when it comes to TK. So many people, even after I break down my stance on BV4, tattoo girl and 2019 overall, still refuse to see how TK acted around all of that. I don’t mind if people disagree but how do you see all the events surrounding that month break, and clearly see no underlying tension or drama, yet find an issue? I don’t get it.

Part of me thinks there’s a few issues here, one of which is some people have short term memory in this fandom. Grammys 2020 was AMAZING and I’m with you - it was bold, loud and a statement. Jk broke the lineup to stand by Tae. They wore rings on their left ring finger while wearing similar matching outfits. They were affectionate to the point non listeners asked if they were dating. That said everything about who Tae and Jk are to each other. It was, in my mind, very intentional of them, at a very large scale, international event which they knew a lot of people would view. But that was January and IST came in Sept so people focus on that. They take it as “real time” and forget what came before. Time moves forward, but they tend to void out sweet moments for the content that is out “today”.

It also doesn’t help that this show was marketed as a relaxed vacation for BTS, a natural setting. People took this conversation at face value without factoring this is a closeted couple who were - generally but not always - restricted in official content leading up to this and the new contracts taking effect. And some didn’t bother questioning how odd it was this deep talk took place on camera, nor the fact we didn’t learn anything new. In reality, this moment was sweet. Tae was clearly nervous but excited. Jimin, their loving, best friend, played along with Tae in acting a skit to get Jk to the tent. They had a very sweet talk with Jk reminiscing about old times. Unfortunately I’ve noticed people have a tendency to focus on the bad and think it defines an entire relationship. They took the negative subtext, which Jk didn’t say, and took his comment “a SIDE” became awkward and ran with it. They didn’t use critical thinking to really consider setting - a public televised moment - or the fact this is a closeted couple, or that Tae had hard times that probably did impact his moods and how those around him reacted.

As for the “focusing on” I think this is something that is always going to be prevalent with taekook until they say something concrete because every single time Jungkook and Tae do something there are a million people standing behind them with all these excuses of “oh tae does this with everyone” “jungkook hates tae” “tae doesn’t like jungkook” “jungkook touches/stares at everyone too” “you’re making them uncomfortable” etc. I think people just want to focus on the negative because they either can’t or choose not believe at the very basic nature of this entire pairing that Tae and Jungkook are friends (for whatever reason, and I’m not talking about the people who don’t like ‘shipping’ but are fine with others doing what they want, I’m talking about those who actively attack people who are peacefully just reposting moments or enjoying themselves on a FREE platform and not spreading any actual malice). Honestly, in my opinion this is no longer even a couple thing, people can’t stand the idea of Tae and Jungkook even being friends. When that rumour came out that Tae and Jungkook went shopping, not only did someone feel the urge to create a false rumour to show how quickly ‘taekookers believe lies’ but also there were like 10001 people coming into the comments to discredit this woman... I mean for what? Are the members not allowed to go shopping with each other anymore? I fail to see the big deal with this.

At the heart of this matter is that people in this fandom are okay with all the members just being FRIENDS but not taekook. Regardless of whether they see romantic connotations in their actions, people can’t seem to even fathom the possibility that two individuals that have been in a group for 7 years, who became friends during debut and were considered the closest—would even be friends today. That’s actually what’s the saddest and most transparent issue within this fandom. Now people can say what they like but I’ve seen tons of experiments and things that have shown this issue to be fairly black and white. As for the SOOP conversation from episode 6, i think Jk made it pretty clear at the GDA 2021 what he meant—I saw that as a clear statement to how he sees Tae and what Tae means to him—I saw people who were dissecting his words and pulling up naver dictionary which is a whole other issue but the fact of the matter is they directly engaged with that episode “Taehyung hyung and I have been friends since debut, we were very close” “what are we not close anymore” *laughs* “no that’s not what i meant, since then you’ve become even more reliable and dependable, so keep working hard and stay healthy lets do something together soon with everyone when it's safer” [I can’t remember if he said everyone, e.g. 여러분 or a variation, I’d have to rewatch it]. Taehyung point blank asked him “what? are we not close anymore?” and Jk said no and reaffirmed they have always been close, despite what people tried to say after Ep 6.

I just find it interesting how everyone was so quick to take Jk for his word and tell us to “stop twisting his words” during that entire SOOP ordeal, yet when Jungkook makes a statement like this at the GDA people are so fast to start going “oh he said gentleman, that means they don’t really like each other and he’s being nice” “did he hesitate? I feel like he hesitated?” “Jungkook looks like he doesn’t want to be there” “taehyung didn’t even pay attention to his message, he asked him about his hair”.

I think that really says it all about how people treat taekook.

I also want to make a point on where some of the hate derives from. My personal opinion is that the hate or friend narrative is largely driven by Bh. They were the ones who separated them starting in 2017 , which gave fans all the freedom to fill in the blanks as to what happened. Being two of the most popular members of the biggest band in the world, this allowed fans who largely ignore ships to see them as rivals even. In official content, there was never any chance that Bh let them think differently. Don’t even get me started on BH because after episode 6 I really stepped back and evaluated how much BH supports. And I’m really confused by the company right now.

I hope I’ve answered this thoroughly and my apologies it’s so long! Ultimately I think there’s a lot of factors at play: BH separating TK in official content a lot of times in the old contract let people create stories; a lot in this fandom seems to actively look for drama or negativity with TK; people take official content as real time events; they don’t factor in IST being televised, how we didn’t learn anything substantive or new, and twisted words to suit a story; short term memory (Grammys was Jan, IST was Sept).

Finally, thanks for being patient with asks. That’s so sweet to read you’re happy I’m answering them again🥰 There's close to 110 in the inbox 😭I’m going to try my best to answer a couple a week at the least. But the inbox does get me anxious, and it can be draining with the negative asks. Between work, my personal life and the timeline itself, which take priority, I’ll do my best but I appreciate the understanding it takes time to get to questions, and it doesn’t help I’m very nervous people can misconstrue what I say, so I take a while to draft thoughts.

Sara’s General Disclaimer: I may select some asks, think about them and answer in the future through either Tumblr, Twitter or YouTube. Kayla will take over the discussion section as she enjoys active debates and will make the time for it, but I still read them all. Be nice to each other 💜 As it’s natural, I may or may not differ with Kayla’s take/ words.

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 4

Hello, and let me once again introduce you to the whimsical world of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

As Luz glanced back between Amity’s pale face, and Willow’s nearly bursting rage, the pieces started coming together. With widened eyes, she said, “Wow. She didn’t remember you at all? That is cold.” She shook her head, her cautious respect for the ambitious woman having taken a hit. She bit her lip. “Are you two going to be okay?” She hesitantly asked, her and Gus looking concerned at the reactions of the two girls.

“I-!” Willow started, before pausing, the anger draining out of her face. “I’ll be fine. They aren’t worth the effort.” She said, sounding exhausted and drained. She sighed, smoothing out her dress. “Let’s just get this night over with.”

“Indeed, let’s.” Amity stated, face regaining some hints of color. With that awkward moment finally passing, the group headed into what they assumed was the room Amity had staked out to host the Moonlight Conjuring in. Before too long, the rest of the guests had started coming in: Amelia, Cat, Selena, Bo, and Skara. There weren't many, but they came all the same.

The girls froze upon seeing Luz, Amelia audibly gulping at the sight of her. The group frantically glanced back and forth between Luz in front of them, and Skara, situated at the back. Luz resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it wouldn’t help any. She sighed, “Okay, look, I’m not going to assume I know why you’re all freaked out over me being here, though I do have a guess. I’m the security you were promised, and as long as I’m here, I’ll keep you all safe. Okay?” She finished, a note of hesitance in her voice.

“During the attack, someone I cared about was killed.”

The group turned towards Skara, staring straight at Luz, a blank, empty look in her eyes. Bo reached out, only for her arm to be gently pushed away. She stepped forward. “His name was Batthew. He wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, and he always went overboard. And now he’s dead.” Her voice sounded hollow, like she had no hope, no joy inside of her at all.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Luz said softly. If Skara was going to blame her for her friend’s death, she wouldn’t fight it.

Skara lightly shook her head. “Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault those maniacs killed him.” She stated, getting bewildered looks from all. Tears started to prick at the corners of Skara’s eyes. “All I want to say is thank you for avenging him. Even if you didn’t fight his killer, you helped stop those sickos, and prevented any more people from feeling the hurt I felt.”

Luz blinked, feeling some measure of relief that she didn’t hate her. That relief quickly shifted to guilt when she reminded herself Skara was grateful for stopping the people who had killed her crush/boyfriend. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen the kind of things the Black Dogs get up to when allowed to rampage.” She shuddered at the mental image. “I was more than glad to stop them.” She said gravely. She and Skara shared a solemn nod at her words.

With that, the tension seemed to bleed out of the room. Amity’s friends were still noticeably nervous around Luz, but it wasn’t anything too bad, and a few, such as Bo, even made an active effort to talk and interact with her.

“No way! Humans don’t have healing magic!?” Bo exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.

“Well, sorta,” Luz said sheepishly, scratching her head in embarrassment. “Back in the old days, it was a pretty common tactic of warring groups to attack enemy healers to deprive the opposition of their skills, as well as destroying information sources when capturing them wasn’t an option. Because of that, a lot of forms of magic and magical arts were all but lost, including Healing.” She finished, a soft frown on her face.

“Oh my Titan, that must be horrible!” Bo said, heart aching in sympathy of those whose lives were lost because they didn’t have access to healing magic.

“Yeah, I was honestly a little shocked when I learned that the Isles had healing magic.” Luz chuckled, arms crossed over her chest. “Still, efforts have been made to bring back Healing Magic, with assistance from those practitioners still alive in the world. Last I heard, Fiore, my home country, had actually established a school exclusively for the study and research of Healing Magic!”

“Well that’s a relief,” Bo sighed. “It might’ve come late, but at least it’s there now, and people can go get treatment when they need it, right?” She inquired.

“Yeah.” Luz said, cracking a sad grin. “Just wish it had come a little sooner.” She muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing!”

Willow and Amelia were currently having a discussion about Plants. By all accounts, Willow was giving Amelia some pointers for upcoming assignments, particularly those dealing with more aggressive breeds of plants. Amelia frantically scribbled down the tips and suggestions Willow offered.

“Good, good, I can work with this!” Amelia excitedly exclaimed, relief and joy shining in her eyes. She turned to Willow, an embarrassed smile on her face. “You are seriously amazing at this!”

“It’s just some stuff I’ve pieced together in my free time.” Willow shrugged noncommittally. “I’m happy to share it if people think they need it, I just don’t see anything really special about it.”

Amelia gave a rueful grin, shaking her head. “And that’s why it’s so incredible! You figured all this stuff out on your own, when it took actual, fully-trained adults years to discover this stuff!” She gave Willow a sad smile. “You really are amazing.”

Willow averted her eyes, uncomfortable. Amelia may not have been as… aggressive as Boscha was at even her best, but she was still part of the group that made her school life difficult. But… Willow couldn’t find it in her to stay mad at the girl. She certainly didn’t like her, but she didn’t dislike her either. “Thanks, I guess?” She ultimately mumbled out.

Amelia briefly searched Willow’s face in confusion, before sighing in realization. “Look, Willow? About the whole ‘Half-a-Witch’ thing…” She started, proceeding carefully at Willow’s sharp look.

“Yeah?” Willow drawled, hackles raised.

Amelia bit her lip slightly, before continuing. “I’m sorry. It was a seriously lame thing to do, and to let Boscha and Amity get away with. Even if we weren’t friends, we could’ve done something to try and make things easier for you, but we just went along with it because it was easier.” She turned clear eyes towards Willow’s suspicious gaze. “It may not mean much now, but I will try and make things up to you. If that’s okay with you?” She gave a hopeful smile.

Willow mulled it over… but she didn’t feel any suspicions rousing at Amelia’s words. Sighing, she finally said, “I’m willing to give you a chance. I really don’t know how to feel about you and the others here.” She glanced over at Luz and Bo. “I honestly only came because my parents insisted, and because Gus and Luz were going to be here. But, if you really are serious about being sorry,” She gave a hesitant grin. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones.” The two shared a nervous laugh. A thought came to Willow. “Hey, do you know why Boscha isn’t here?” She asked.

Amelia gave a snort. “Amity didn’t invite her, and considering how she’s been acting, that’s probably for the best.” She explained, getting a look of mixed confusion and concern from Willow. She elaborated, “Boscha basically screamed her head off at Skara and sent her into tears after she burned her, and she’s been avoiding everyone ever since. And between her and Skara, every one of us chose to stick by Skara.” She finished. Willow pondered the topic. As much as Boscha had caused her grief and some heartache over the years, she didn’t wish that kind of loneliness on anyone. She’d probably talk about it with Luz later.

Gus was surprisingly hitting it off rather well with Cat and Skara. Cat had basically volunteered to be Skara’s backup nurse for when Bo wasn’t around or when Bo just needed to take a break for herself. Skara frankly thought Gus was hilarious, even if she wasn’t really in a laughing mood, as his energy and nervousness gave him a unique air to him.

“-And so yeah, Bo’s a member of the HAS!” Gus finished explaining, getting a look of shared amusement from his conversation partners. “I mean, I guess with everything that’s happened, our group and the Human Roleplay Society is gonna get a lot of dirty looks after the attack.” He concluded, a look of bashfulness and sadness filling his features.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to join the HAS to send a message.” Skara remarked, getting an incredulous look from Gus, and a snort of amusement from Cat. “I’m serious! You shouldn’t be getting harassed because of what someone else did. Plus,” She gave a nervous smile, “It’ll let me hang out with Bo more often.”

“Well, I’m never one to turn away new members!” Gus excitedly cheered.

“I’ll bet.” Cat remarked sardonically, giving a loose shrug.

Unbeknownst to any of the guests, Amity had slipped away, stalking through her home on the search for her parents. The scowl on her face would’ve sent even the toughest of the Isles’ residents backpedalling. She roughly shoved her way past the assorted Abomination servants, utterly unwilling to deal with even the slightest of delays. Eventually, she made it to her father’s workshop, him STILL tinkering over his pet project, her mother calmly sipping her tea next to him while going over some of the paperwork from the family business. “Mother, Father.” She said with tightly controlled politeness.

“Ah, Mittens! How is the party going?” Her mother cordially asked, while her father gave a grunt of acknowledgement as to her presence. Odalia stood up, moving closer, pulling Amity to her side. “I must say, I am most impressed, sweety! Cultivating new relationships for the future with exceptional individuals, a stroke of brilliance!” She said, a proud smile across her face.

“Thank you.” Amity bit out, before continuing, “But what I actually came to talk to you about is-”

“MITTENS!!” Emira’s voice rang out, accompanied by frantic pounding. “GET ME AND ED OUT OF HERE!!!”

Amity turned a confused glance towards Odalia. “Emira was rather adamant about supervising your Conjuring, and when I tried to put my foot down, she… objected, rather aggressively. I had to seal her and Edric in the panic room so they wouldn’t get up to any mischief.” Her mother sheepishly explained, looking both pleased and annoyed at the ferocity her eldest daughter had displayed.

“I can understand locking up Emira,” Amity stated, quirking an eyebrow. “But why Edric?”

“Mittens, we both know he would free her in a heartbeat, if for no other reason than because it is Emira.” Odalia drolly stated, causing a brief moment of solidarity to pass between the two. Yes, they were both very familiar with Edric’s peculiarities and the sheer depth of his loyalty to his twin. “Now, what is it you wished to speak with me about, Mittens?” Odalia finally asked, getting back on track.

Amity breathed in deep, forcibly holding back her anger. “When you spoke with Willow, you implied that you only knew her through our confrontation at school, would that be accurate?” She tersely asked, getting a look of baffled surprise from Odalia, and a raised brow from Alador.

“Well, yes! Where else would I know her from?” Odalia rhetorically asked, a note of borderline condescension coloring her voice.

“Hmm… I must say, that name does seem familiar, but I can’t recall from where.” Alador muttered.

Amity’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here’s a hint. My fifth birthday.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” Odalia demanded in bewilderment, even as Alador mulled the hint over.

Alador snapped his fingers in realization. “Ah yes! Now I remember! Willow was the name of one of Amity’s playmates when she was little. When we noticed that she wasn’t developing as fast as her peers, we had Amity sever ties at her… fifth… birthday- oh.” He said, his usual tired expression widening into pale realization, even as Odalia’s own face shifted into horrified realization as the implications sunk in.

“Yes, oh.” Amity echoed, a look of bitter amusement on her face. She turned on her heel. “That was all the confirmation I needed. I believe that I will spend the remainder of the evening seeing to my guests. Mother, father.” And with that, she power-walked away, ignoring her mother’s cries to come back, to talk things over, as if she would. Amity ripped her necklace off, shoving it into her pocket, in no mood to hear her mother’s voice in her head tonight. Yet another blotch had appeared in her mental image of her parents. It was honestly mostly a black smear at this point anyway.

Eda glanced out at the sky, seeing that the Night Market was about to open, if the encroaching darkness was a solid indicator. She called over her shoulder, “Come on, King! We’ve got a shady seller to see about some potions!”

“Weh! I’m ready to go!” King cried, running up to her side, putting on a look of fierce (adorable) determination. She cracked a smirk at that. The two headed out, giving Hooty permission to use any and all means to defend the house in their absence, prompting a delighted shout of excitement from the friendly, if annoying, House Demon. Neither noticed, the heavy figure moving through the branches of the trees, stalking them on their approach to town, nor its bloodthirsty grin.

Luz glanced up from her discussion with Skara at Amity’s arrival to the room. “Hey Blight!” She cheerfully called out, only for her expression to shift into concern at Amity’s gloomy demeanor. “Something wrong?”

Amity sighed, waving off her concern. “It’s nothing, just an unpleasant talk with my parents.”

“Oh no, are they kicking us out!?” Gus exclaimed, a look of panicked despair crossing his face. He turned to Willow, clinging to her dress. “This is it! The moment of hopelessness as our dreams are dashed to pieces! Willow my friend, it was fun while it lasted!” He cried, sobbing into her dress, much to Willow’s exhaustion.

“What!?” Amity asked, baffled, before shaking it off. “No, you’re not getting kicked out, I just had something unpleasant confirmed. Please, you’re free to stay.” She said, bemused at the cheer of relief Gus let out, even as Luz and Willow shook their heads in amusement at his antics.

“Well, I guess it’s about time for me to start doing the job you recruited me for.” Luz said with a joking tone, heading for the door. She flicked a finger gun towards the group. “Save me some snacks for when I get back, okay?”

“Will do!” Willow called back.

Snorting in amusement, Luz made her way to the front door, planning on crawling up to the top of the roof for a vantage point against any attackers. Plus, she thought standing on a roof by moonlight was badass. Chuckling to herself at her inner geek rearing its head, Luz pulled the door open, only to go still at what she saw. Seven humans, all standing outside the door, staring her down. However, what really drew her gaze was the figure in the center, someone she hadn’t seen in quite some time. “Neon!?” Luz exclaimed in shock.

“LuLu!” The girl exclaimed, jumping towards Luz in a flying hug. The blue-haired girl eagerly buried her face into Luz’s side, a look of childish excitement covering her face. “Oh I just knew it was you!!” She pulled back, her face puffing out in a pout. “And here you are, having a fun-time slumber party without me!” She whined, flailing her arms. Luz felt her face go deadpan, even as the others, guards she figured, sighed in exhaustion at the antics of their charge. Yup, this was definitely Neon. Neon crossed her arms, a look of defiance covering her, admittedly adorable, features. “And since I’m here, I’m gonna be joining this party, whether you like it or not!”

“There is absolutely no way I’m talking you out of this, is there?” Luz droned, already resigned to the excitable girl’s antics.

“Nope!”

Amity busied herself with the setup for the Conjuring, intently ignoring the glances the others sent her way. She wasn’t distracting herself from the confirmation that, yes, her parents were callous enough to completely disregard one of the most bitter memories in her life, not in the slightest.

“Hey, guys?” Luz’s voice called out, drawing the attention of the group to the door. “We might have a situation!” Everyone was instantly on guard; Bo, Cat, and Amelia were nervous, seriously wondering if they were in danger, while Skara and Gus grew nervous but steeled themselves, even as Willow and Amity braced themselves for an attack. “Now, don’t be alarmed, but we’ve got some… surprise guests is all!”

With that said, Luz walked into the room. Everyone instantly took note of the girl tightly clinging to Luz’s side, a thin girl, roughly around their age, with messy blue hair held up in a ponytail by a yellow ribbon, a long-sleeved purple striped shirt under a vest, a long skirt going to her calves. She was beautiful, with delicate features that screamed innocence and gentleness, with brilliant blue eyes shining outward. Following behind them were six other humans, all varying in appearance, the only commonality being the immaculate black suits they wore.

“Um, Luz?” Willow tentatively asked. “Who’s this?” She asked, gesturing to the girl tightly hugging Luz’s side.

“Ugh, everyone, this is Neon Nostrade. She’s a friend of mine from the Human Realm. Neon, these are my friends and acquaintances from the Demon Realm.” Luz intoned, introducing the girl to the group and vice versa.

“Oooh!! It’s so amazing to meet you all! I am Neon, heiress of the Nostrade family, and these are my guards!” She cheerfully announced, wildly gesturing to the group behind her. “Basho,” She pointed to the tallest, a muscular man with a cleft chin, pompadour, mustache and sideburns, who gave a friendly wave, “Piper,” a round, short figure with prominently pointed front teeth, long hair with a significant bald spot on top who gave a small nod, “Baise,” a beautiful woman whose hair was done up in an intricate braided top-knot offered a short wave, “Tocino,” A gangly fellow with bright orange hair offered a smile, “Squala,” a darker skinned man with tightly pinned back hair gave a two-fingered salute, “and Kurapika!” The last guard, a handsome young man with rich blond hair, gave a bow, a polite smile on his face. Neon turned a sweet grin to the group. “They keep me safe from meanies who wanna steal my predictions!”

The assembled witches numbly waved in greeting. They all turned to Luz, who groaned.

“Look, I have no idea how they got here, but I can vouch for Neon, and I know her dad screens her guards to an insane degree. They won’t be a risk to us.” She stated, nodding to the group.

“Oh LuLu, you say the nicest things!” Neon cheered, eagerly hugging Luz’s arm.

“LuLu?” Amity questioned.

“Uh huh, LuLu!” Neon eagerly agreed. “LuLu was my very first bodyguard! Originally, papa kept me tucked away so my future husband would be the first person outside the family to see me!” The Witches paled. “But then I figured out fun magic, and papa made a bunch more money than usual, and he said I wasn’t gonna have a husband anymore, and he had his business buddies give him LuLu to protect me!” She cheerfully explained. “After that, LuLu took me into town a bunch and I had lots of fun! I got to shop for my own clothes, and didn’t have to wear dolly dresses anymore, and got to eat yummy food that wasn’t just veggies and water, and I even met a nice man who was getting money for his sick momma’s medicine and I gave him a bunch of money, but LuLu took him into an Alley and gave him her money and got mine back!” She just kept rambling away, even as her guards slumped over in exhausted resignation, a matching expression on Luz’s face.

“Hey, Neon? We’ve got some snacks set up, if you want any.” Luz said, pointing to the tray of goodies.

“Ooh! Yummy!” Neon cheered, rushing for the treats, eagerly stuffing them into her mouth.

The blond guard, Kurapika, spoke up. “Please excuse the Young Miss. She means well, but… she doesn’t have the most experience with the real world, I’m afraid.” He formally stated, giving a deep bow to the Witches. As he pulled up, he added, “I believe it is accurate of me to say that we are very grateful for you allowing us in. When the Young Miss overheard that her friend,” he gestured to Luz, who was currently staring at a wall, dead to the world, “was going to be attending a gathering at night with a group of youths, she insisted we come.” He sighed.

“By all means, this is no trouble.” Amity stated diplomatically, compartmentalizing the barrage of information Neon had blurted out, focusing on the gentlemen before her. Noticing the nervousness of the others, she asked, “Forgive me, but our Isles have recently been attacked by a group known as Oroboros, and everyone is on edge when it comes to humans, and while I mean no offense, I have to ask, do you have any association with them?”

The guards gained matching looks of dark loathing. “No, we do not.” Kurapika stated, his voice a mask of tightly controlled cool politeness. He relaxed slightly as he explained, “We were hired to guard Miss Neon so as to keep her predictive magic from being taken, along with her. While her father is, unfortunately, a high-ranking financier for Oroboros, we fortunately exist outside of that nest of darkness’ command structure.”

Amity nodded, filing away the information. “While I’m not sure how much you can actually say, would you care to explain how you all got to the Isles?”

As Kurapika opened his mouth to reply, he was cut off by Neon’s shout. “We passed through a big gate filled with water, and then Zoop! We were on the Isles!” She cheerfully called over, before resuming stuffing her face. Her guards just sighed, nodding at her words.

“What Miss Neon says is true.” Kurapika stated with a rueful grin. “While we don’t know its precise nature, we entered this Realm through the use of a Water Magic based portal. It was… quite the experience.” He finished, a look of embarrassment crossing his features at some memory.

“Thank you.” Amity said, moving over to Luz, who was still staring a whole into the wall. She pulled in close, harshly whispering into her ear. “That girl mentioned she had been kept in seclusion until her marriage. How old was she to be during it?”

“Thirteen.” Luz growled out. “The fact creep was one of the few people I’ve killed and not regretted, at least not outside the abstract regret of killing at all. I honestly would’ve preferred to expose the corrupt monster, but I had to settle for putting him out of people’s misery.” She turned a burning glare towards Amity. “And Neon’s dad is even worse.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 7)

Mai hasn’t stopped by yet, Snapdragon supposes that it is just as well, she hasn’t finished her gift yet. It is quite simple but she is still proud of it. She hopes that Mai will enjoy it as much as she is thrilled to be making it.

So far the necklace has six charms, a very vividly colored paradise-peacock feather, a small elephant-rat paw bone, a naturally polished and very shiny stone with a hole in it, an aged fork, a clam shell, and one of several old coins that she had found buried in the jungles of Hira’a.

She thinks that the cord can hole at least one more trinket and a few beads. She scampers through her piles sorting through ribbons, thimbles, and empty bobbins. She inspects shards of glass before ultimately deciding that those are all too pointy to wear around the neck. She picks up a crab claw and puts it on its own pile, a candidate for being the final trinket. She finds her collection of beads and plucks out a few black and dark red ones, Mai seems to enjoy the gloomier shades.

She scrambles over to her plant specimens. Mostly they consist of interestingly shaped twigs but there are several dried leaves, petals, and roots. She thinks that the leaves and petals are too frail to be threaded onto the cord. But the roots, those might very well work. And they would make sense too. Mai works with flowers and plants so the necklace should have at least something to represent that. Snapdragon’s current necklace represents her.

She feels it against her chest. It has at least eight charms, a few of them don’t mean anything in particular to her. But she has recently added snapdragon roots between the tiger-monkey claw and her a dusty, broken geode. A tiger-monkey claw for her fierceness and her love of climbing and a rusty cog for her love of old factories and abandoned places. There is a coconut chip to remind her of her days in the jungle and a blunt tip of a broken dagger. She isn’t entirely sure about the geode but it speaks to her on some level. The coins, beads, and the piece of tattered red cloth are more for show than anything else.

She twirls the root in her hand before ultimately deciding that they will be the perfect final addition to her necklace. She ties it onto the cord with a satisfied smile and holds it up. It is perfect, an asymmetrical cluster of things that don’t seem like they should go together. But they are harmonized in their chaos.

Her smile fades, she isn’t sure that Mai would like to wear something so odd. Especially in a palace full of watching, judging eyes. She supposes that it’s okay if she only wears it around her and then takes it off when she gets to the palace.

.oOo.

It is raining quite heavily but Mai doesn’t particularly care. The pounding of the drops drowns out the angry beating in her mind. Zuko is being unbearable. Everything is an argument, everything is taken so personally. And she doesn’t care for that Jin girl that he has been bringing around.

She can’t quite place it at first but she thinks that it might be a twinge of jealousy one that she wishes she could permanently purge. She isn’t sure why she is jealous, she has made it clear that things were over between the two of them. And yet she can’t shake that nagging sense that it should be she who is going to be attending Ember Island Players shows with him. That was their thing and now their thing is being shared with some ditzy, doe-eyed, air headed…

Mai tightens her fists in her pockets. Small puddles are gathering uncomfortably in the folds of her robes and she has no one to blame but herself. Why does Snapdragon’s factory have to be at the very other side of the city? Why did she neglect getting herself a palanquin ride?  Zuko probably wouldn’t have let her borrow one anyhow. Not mid-squabble.

Her feet slosh through puddle after puddle, soaking through to her socks. She shudders, there is no greater discomfort. No greater suffering. But at least she isn’t bored.

She finds Snapdragon, also soaked thoroughly, leaping from puddle to puddle. She, unlike Mai herself, seems absolutely delighted to be dripping wet. She hasn’t yet noticed mai. Even in the misty gloom, Snapdragon is a splash of color. The necklace she wears today is particularly flashy as it clanks against her chest. Mai is inclined to believe that she has chosen it specifically to stand out in the drabness.

“I’m glad that you’re having fun.”

Snapdragon comes to an abrupt halt, kicking up a splash of oily mud. “I like rainy days sometimes.”

“You would enjoy playing around in the mud.”

“It’s too slick for climbing ‘n jumping on roofs today.” Snapdragon shrugs. “So I’m pretending that the puddles are roofs ‘stead.”

“Interesting.” Mai remarks stoically.

“I ain’t realize you liked walks in the rain.”

“I don’t.”

Snapdragon tilts her head, “then why are you walking in the rain?”

She shakes her head, “just...don’t worry about it. Can we go inside, I need to wring my clothes and hair out.”

Snapdragon flounces over to the door and holds it open, “after you, hotwoman.”

Mai rolls her eyes. Normally it would be enduring, today she just finds herself annoyed by the woman’s uppity antics. She sighs and gives her hair an overly forceful twist and squeeze. She can’t let herself take her frustrations out on Snapdragon. The girl has been nothing but pleasant.

“Hey, stay right there! I gotta go get something!”

She doesn’t give Mai a chance to answer before darting off and scrambling up her rickety ladder. It is probably a good thing, she very well might have muttered a harsh, ‘where else am I going to go, Snapdragon?’ Mai rubs her hands over her face. Maybe she should try to lighten the mood. Maybe she should try to drink in some of the delight that Snapdragon radiates.

The girl comes back down with another one of her gaudy necklaces. She is beaming from ear to ear. “What do you think?”

Mai inspects the jewelry. “It’s...uh...it’s unique. Very you.”

“I was trying to make it more you.” She holds it out. “See, the roots are supposed to represent your flower shop.”

Mai tries to muster up a smile but it probably looks more like a grimace.

“It’s for you.” She retracts her hand slightly and thrusts it out again.

Mai takes a deep breath and tries for a joke, “I don’t know if I can pull off a trash necklace.”

Maybe it is her deadpan delivery, or maybe she has simply uncovered and hit some hidden raw spot, but Snapdragon’s face falls. Mai could slap herself. “No, no. I mean it’s a cool necklace, I like it. I just wanted to make a joke.”

Snapdragon forces a laugh. She doesn’t try to hand the necklace to her again.

“You’re not going to offer it again?”

“It’s alright, Mai, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.” She forces a smile.

“I do want to.” She holds her hand out. Snapdragon sets the necklace in her palm. Mai tries to make small talk with her but she mostly answers with simple yes or no’s while toying with the charms on her own necklace.

And Mai considers that maybe Zuko isn’t the problem at all. Maybe it is her. She does have this amazing ability to drag everyone down instead of allowing them to lift her up. It always happens eventually. She wishes that she weren’t so unremarkable.

.oOo.

By dusk the rain comes to a slow. After an hour or so of getting nowhere in conversation, Mai had declared that it would probably be best to make her way back home before it gets dark and the second round of storm clouds roll in.

She can see them lingeringly darkly on the horizon as she scuttles her way over a heap of wooden beams and crates and shimmies up the husk of an old war tank. She squeezes herself into the hatch and slips behind the wheel. She imagines the war machine roaring to life in a cough of black smoke. Imagines the raw power of it. Imagines being something more than just some downtrodden alley dweller. Maybe then Mai wouldn’t be embarrassed by her. Maybe then, she’d have a chance with the woman.

Her gift was accepted out of pity and nothing more, she knows that Mai is just going to chuck the necklace aside when she gets back to the palace and pretend like she has no idea where it had come from.

Snapdragon gives the rusty metal wheel a turn. Maybe if she spent less time lurking in abandoned places, people wouldn’t abandon affections for her. She supposes that it is hard to love someone who is constantly covered in dust and grime. All the same, she loves her hobby, she can’t really see herself without it.

She finds a little corner of the tank to curl herself up in and wait out the storm. It comes suddenly and with a surprising fury. From the sound of it, the drops are thick as they pelt the side of the tank. And the thunder shakes the ground. It is probably a horrid idea to hole up in a metal tank so she hustles out of it and into the rain.

The puddles are no fun anymore and the rain throws itself violently into her face. She thinks of going into the factory but it is entirely metal too. The lightning strikes it over and over again with a terrifying fury. And yet it manages to stand on, powerful and admirable. She thinks that it is what keeps her safe from getting struck; the lightning is so enticed by it that it doesn’t bother with her as she heads towards Mohi’s home.

The wind lashes at her with a fury and she wonders if and hopes that Mai has made it home.

Maybe if she were a shaper, smarter, noblewoman she would have thought to offer letting Mai stay with her at Mohi’s. Would have walked there with her a while ago.

But she isn’t smarter. She isn’t a noble woman. But she isn’t anything grander than what she is now. Isn’t anyone impressive. She’s just Snapdragon, a girl who doesn’t even have a real name.

[1zashreena1]

Trading Trauma -13

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary:  They share the rough stuff while trying to figure out how to be gentle with each other. And an antagonist?

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Detailed discussion of abuse in all forms- Physical-Mental-Emotional-Verbal*** SERIOSULY HEED THIS WARNING Anxiety attacks, vague hinting at mental-behavioral health disorders, plus size woman+fit man, This one is all feels and 

I Am So Sorry.

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic ​ @symbiont13 ​ @nicke0115 ​​ @bunnykjm ​ @rosee-sensuelle ​ @girlpornparadise ​ @mandoplease ​ @heresathreebee ​ @xxsteph-enrixx ​ @jetiikad ​ @joalsglasses ​ @mutantcookiesecrets ​ @demoncatstone ​ @squidlywiddly87 ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog ​ @poeedamerons ​

I believe gif came from @girlpornparadise​ 

Its a Friday like any other and Bastian picks you up like always. Only, something is wrong. You can tell because Bastian is silent; absolutely, completely, dead silent.

"So," You try from the passenger seat, "What the fuck is going on that you don't want to tell me?" Its raining and everything in New York is shaded in tones of gray. The gray buildings pass by, people in gray coats with gray umbrellas trudge along the sidewalk, even this SUV is gray. It still has new car smell. What happened that he bought a new SUV?

A muscle tics in Bastian's jaw as he tenses under your attention. Pale green eyes dart to you, then back to the road. Finally, Bastian speaks, "Alicia was here today." 

Your jaw drops. "What? Why? Is he okay?" Your immediate concern is Diego, both his physical safety and his mental well-being. Bastian's silence is an obvious negative. After staring at him for an indeterminate amount of time and receiving no further details you go back to the windshield. "We can order food later, just take me to him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diego is stationed on the sectional when you arrive, working on his laptop. Bastian places your bag just inside the penthouse then retreats back into the elevator. That's never a good sign.

Diego looks up and smiles, its blindingly gorgeous and your heart stutters. The laptop gets dumped to the side in favor of grabby hands going for your curves. You climb into his lap, knees outside his hips, loop your arms around his neck, and fold him down into your softness. With a huge sigh, Diego melts into you.

"Princess. Missed you." His rumble is soft and quiet against your neck. He wraps you up tighter and squeezes your squishy middle. "Stay. Please." What started as an order ended as a plea in under two words. 

You stroke over his hair, kissing his forehead and nodding gently. "I'm here, baby. Are you okay?" The likelihood of getting a straight answer is slim but you have to ask. You need him to know that you care, that you want to take care of him. 

He nods into your neck and settles further. Apparently this is where I sit now. His breathing is normal, he doesn't flinch or jump wherever you pet him, and his clothing is in place. As far as you can tell, he is physically well. The only thing out of place here is his hidden face.

He is surprisingly cuddly in private, your Murder Panther rather enjoys petting, but he has never hidden from you. Its concerning, especially in conjunction with Bastian's hushed announcement in the car. 

"What do you need me to do?" You keep your voice even and quiet because you're not sure how upset he really is. Broad shoulders shrug under you, he seems almost defeated. You try a different tact and ask, "Okay, when did you last eat?" 

"Dish mornin." Diego mumbles into your skin like a kid. In truth, he is like a large child a lot of the time. He gets easily distracted by activity and is frequently lost in whatever task happens to be most interesting to him at that exact moment. He fidgets minutely under you, a tiny bit of his normal reaction to your presence is evident. 

You turn to smirk into his cheek, "I meant food, but if that's what you need, well, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make." His deep chuckle shakes your entire body. "Where's my phone? Lemme order dinner before you go after dessert."

Diego pulls your phone out of the back pocket of your jeggings and passes it to you, then replaces it with a huge hand. You laugh but proceed to order from that steakhouse you like in Brooklyn.

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

By the time dinner has been completed Diego is relaxed and loose-limbed, sprawled on his back across your lap in the corner of the sectional. He is still quiet, but if you keep both hands on your tablet a little too long he makes his displeasure known with a growly whine. You’ve been absent-mindedly petting him for some time when you decide to try again.

"So, can I do anything to help you? Listen? Massage? Cuddle? Err, cuddle more intensely?" You don't look at him in an attempt to not make him uncomfortable. 

Diego heaves a sigh and holds your hand flat to his chest. You can feel his heart, its picking up speed and you feel a little guilty. He licks his lips and finally speaks, "Alicia was waiting for me when we came back from a meeting this morning. She has been questioning my books. I suppose she doubts my math." Diego waves a dismissive hand in the air.

You have seen this man complete statistical mathematical analysis in his head, everyone knows his math isn't a problem. 

"Um. First of all, no. Secondly, n-o-o-o." You draw the word out in your sarcasm and Diego snorts with amusement. "Why do you think she was really here?" You ask soberly.

"It is the math. I need to redistribute my surplus. What is that saying? Use it or lose it?" Diego looks up at you from under raised brows, waiting for you to confirm or correct his language. 

That is fucking adorable. Your chest tightens with his easy familiarity with you and his trust that you have his back in all things, even something as small as a possible mistranslation. You nod in confirmation, but also need some clarification. "So, help me understand here, you have a surplus of what? Profit?" 

Diego nods succinctly. "Technically, it is a deficit of expenses. However, the expenses are paid out of the profits, so I simply hadn't moved the profit surplus into the expense account, which would have highlighted the cost deficit. I attempted to not draw any undue attention to it, but that failed. I must find somewhere to funnel the excess money that would not arouse suspicion."

It takes you a minute to process that whole thing. Diego watches you mentally work through it with amused patience. You now have more questions than answers. "Okay, wait. Rewind further back. Why do you have extra money? Are you not spending as much?"  What is happening? 

"It is two folds," Diego holds up a hand with one finger raised, you don't bother correcting him this time, "I am not consuming my own product, therefore selling more and netting more profits." He raises a second finger and continues, "I am spending substantially less on incidental costs. Not so many bottles or strippers or whatever. So saving more." 

He stares at his own raised fingers in bemusement before muttering thoughtfully, "Julio always led me to believe that women are expensive to keep but you have been saving me money. Hmm." He glances up at you with a small smile, tentative and cautious, so very not Diego-like. 

Your shrug is exaggerated, but your flush is not. "Glad I could help? I mean, its my fault this extra money is sitting around, so its my fault she noticed and then came here. I'm sorry, baby." Sometimes when you open your mouth everyone goes on a surprise trip, including you. It wasn't meant to turn self-deprecating, but here you are. You really do feel guilty. My presence has altered his lifestyle and its a problem.

The worry must be obvious on your features because Diego catches it immediately. He rushes to soothe you, "No, Princess. I chose to do these things, or rather to not. You have done nothing wrong. I would rather have you and this problem than to not have you and not this." His right hand comes up to cradle your cheek and direct your gaze down to him. Those beautiful brown eyes are molten, fierce with some emotion you don't want to analyze. It still fucks you up.

You swallow hard and lick your lips, "So what do we do?" Diego follows the path of your tongue with his thumb while his lips curl up in pleasure at your choice of wording. The way he looks at you sometimes, like he might try to move heaven and earth for you, it hurts. You can't decide if you like it or not.

"We must spend the money." He winks at you. "I will invest some and hide it in offshore accounts. If anything happens it will come to you." His air of finality is chilling.

Looking him over, you can feel tears welling up. "I don't want the money. I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy being spoiled, because duh. But if I have to make some ultimate choice between money or Murder Panther?" Your hands fling around with impassioned gesticulation. 

Diego chuckles, "What does," he imitates your sharp movements, "mean, Princess?" His eyes sparkle with the city lights twinkling in through the windows, but so far he is succeeding in suppressing his smile.

"It means, you know!" You flail your hands around faster, as if that will make your point. 

Diego does it back faster, so you interject with even faster movements, and Diego rebuts the same way until you grab his hands to stop him. The both of you dissolve into almost hysterical giggles.

He uses your joined hands to pull your forehead down to his. You can see a dizzying array of emotions swirling in his eyes, its breathtaking. His breathing hitches, brows draw down, and then his eyes close. 

"Baby." You sigh, cupping his cheeks gently, "What?" The question is soft, tentative. He doesn't release the hold on your wrists, but allows you enough space to pet him minutely. 

"When I have you here it blocks out everything else." Long fingers spasm on your forearms as Diego pauses to drag in a ragged breath, he continues, "I want to keep you here."

I don't know what to say. You're dumbfounded. "What? What does that mean?"  Your voice has shrunk down to a quavering whisper.

Diego opens his eyes to look up at you and they are deep enough for drowning. "You are coddling me and I like it. I want you here every day. Give me this whenever I want it." He whispers roughly. Diego studies your form as though committing your features to memory. "You should," that raspy voice hesitates and Diego grips your arms tighter, "You should quit your job and move in with me."  He stares up at you in complete sincerity. 

You're trying to keep it together. Diego is the one who had a bad day here. You're supposed to be helping him, not having your very own freak out. Think rationally about this. He isn’t here all the time, sometimes he's in LA. I'm not hot enough to be a trophy wife. What would I do all day? Just help him? Wouldn't that just be a different job? Oh my god, if I say yes to this… what if he asks me to go to LA? What if--

"PRINCESS!" Diego's bark cuts through your mental tornado and you blink back to awareness. He is still in your lap, cupping your jaw in one giant hand, while he watches you silently freak the fuck out. 

"I'm sorry," you gasp, "I didn't mean to just. Just. Zone out." Your breathing is shallow and you can feel your heart racing. 

Diego just watches you, unreadable. You glance down at him then look away. One of the coffee mugs is missing from the tree. Must be in the dishwasher.

"Hey." That rumble is soft and you cannot ignore it. Your eyes shoot down to his again, then away, and you shake your head 'no' minutely. Diego shifts to sit up (Via only abdominal muscles, your entire pelvis helpfully informs you) but keeps a hand on you. He sits back into the corner of the sectional and beckons to you. When you move toward him Diego spins you so your back is to his chest while you sit in his lap.

He wants to maintain contact but not overwhelm me by being in my face. I wonder if he’s been researching again.

Its enough to crack your heart open a little.

His long legs bracket your hips and you smile fondly, it reminds you of all the times spent in the jacuzzi tub. Diego rests his prickly chin on your left shoulder, wraps huge hands around your middle, and just sits there. Your hands pet over his thighs, his knees, then inward to cover the grip on your rounded stomach. 

"Logically," you clear your throat, "I know you don't mean it this way. But. I, well, I basically gave up my entire self once before and, as you know, it did not go well." Your voice is clear but soft as you continue, "You're not him. You are so very not him. But I still have… scars." Your hands are shaking noticeably so you stuff them under his. Diego laces his fingers with yours and steadies you.

"You never told me what he did to you. I want to know everything about you, Princess. Let us make a deal, huh?" Diego is always just a little bit greedy and you can only respect that as a fellow hedonist.

Tilting your head to the left, you lean your cheek against his nose, then answer warily, "I'm listening…"  You can feel Diego's smirk.

"I will tell you what happened when I was little and you will tell me what happened during that 'relationship'. An even exchange." He stares at you from a few centimeters away and you return the calculating look from the corner of your eye.

Your lips purse while you consider, then offer a caveat, "Only if I can write it out and not speak it." You turn to face him fully. He looks so… soft.

Diego licks his lips, "Deal. Now kiss." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You write out everything you can remember from your ex.

How no one was allowed to know you existed, you could have no title, that it wasn't a 'relationship' despite living together for eight years. 

You worked full time, you cooked, you cleaned, you kept a household budget even when it meant emptying your savings account to pay for his bankruptcy filing. 

The way you paid all the bills but your name was only listed on the lease, the three cases of beer you had to buy every week no matter how tight money was for groceries, you weren't permitted to hang anything on the walls so your ex could cover them with posters of girls half your size. 

You kept your hair dyed strawberry blonde because that was what he liked, because then he would touch you without sneering. The other girls you poached for him to sleep with instead of you. How you were supposed to be grateful that a man would even deem to fuck you at your size.

The wake up call when you argued back the first time after all those years. How he had backed you up to the top of the steep stairs in your second floor apartment and then loomed over you. The way you teetered on the precipice before diving under one of his arms and escaping to the bathroom, the only door with a lock.

How one day while he was at work you stuffed everything that would fit into your car and just left. The way you had to start over from scratch with no credit history or savings. The court proceedings for the restraining order, that you had to recount everything in front of your family, a judge, and the ex himself.

. . . . .

You don't realize how badly your hands are shaking until Diego takes the tablet from them. He sets it down on the neighboring cushion and locks the screen dark before turning back to you. Those huge arms wrap around your middle, on top of your own arms hugging yourself, and pull your back flush to his chest. You ponder his largeness; his thighs are as long as your arms, the stupefyingly huge hands and feet are an endless source of fascination, the biceps are your favorite pillow. You grin dumbly. 

"What?" Even at a whisper his voice vibrates deep in your chest. Its not especially deep, but its so rough, it almost reminds you of a cat tongue. Diego watches your face from an inch away.

Left shoulder raising in a lazy shrug, you sigh, "I love sleeping next to you. And I don't like sharing a bed with anyone." You blush a bit with the confession, but its true. "I feel safe with you even though realistically I know it should feel the opposite. You won't hurt me and you won't let anyone else either." Its a direct contrast to what you were just writing about and you say it with absolute conviction. 

"Of course not! But, but if I do, accidentally obviously, you will tell me?" Diego sounds simultaneously aghast and condescending but not at all offended by your acknowledgement of his potential danger. Amazing.

You turn to face him and lean your forehead against his. Diego sighs softly and squeezes you tighter. "I mean, I might write it, but yeah." 

He makes that adorable scrunchy-thinky face that you love before announcing, "I'll allow it."

Your eyes roll fondly as you sigh, "Oh good. So glad that meets your approval."  His sly smile is mesmerizing. 

"So. Are you gonna read that or…?" You glance down to the tablet then back up at him. "No, wait," you interject before his open mouth can start making noise, "Tell me yours first. Please." You turn solemn as you consider how bad this might be. Watching his face gives you a hint; his forehead smooths and his eyes shutter while soft lips turn down at the corners. Its his poker face, he is hiding from you.

Diego clears his throat quietly and looks away before he begins, "Our mother died when I was young, before I started school. My Lita said she committed suicide, apparently she was depressed after I was born. Alicia blamed me." 

You knew he had grown up without a mom, all of his delighted reactions to your own mother knowing and hearing about him had suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense when he told you. And you already knew that he was close with his grandmother, Lita, that she had looked out for him. And now much of Alicia's behavior made sense, too.

"My earliest memory of Alicia is at age twelve for her. By that point she had convinced our father that it was my fault. I was four the first time he hit me with a belt. The buckle, of course." Diego's jaw grinds, you can see his right eye twitch. You want to reach out to him but he probably won't tolerate it right now. He frequently misreads sympathy for pity. I'm starting to understand why.

"When I was eight she said to get in the car, I was allowed to go to the grocery store with her. The nearest was the next town to the east. Halfway there she pulled over and told me to get out, then she left. A neighbor driving home from the store saw me and took me to Lita. I do not know how long I was out there but I was very hungry." Here Diego pauses and swallows, "Lita said I ate a pound of beans." His wry smile is bitter. 

Brown eyes turn to you, his face is closed and guarded at first. You keep your mouth shut and just look at him. Slowly but surely, Diego's big body relaxes behind you, his eyebrows flatten and his lips soften. 

"When I was ten she pushed me through an open window. He beat me with the metal frame from the broken screen. At twelve I burnt one of the kitchen cabinets trying to make food before they got home. It was a rake that time. Thirteen was a microwave, I did not know about the thing with aluminum foil so it sparked and it was ruined. Also, I somehow got a video tape tangled in the VCR, I have no idea how. I begged my friend not to leave, father would not do anything until we were alone. It only made it worse." You can't take it anymore, your right hand comes up to his far shoulder and strokes up to cup his jaw. 

Diego turns toward you, rests his forehead into your neck, then proceeds to give you more. "I was sixteen when father staged the coup and killed his uncle to take over the cartel. He and Alicia sent me on 'errands'. I learned that these were suicide missions when I turned nineteen. Each time I came home fucked up but alive they were furious. Every time the cartel experienced a setback Alicia convinced everyone it was my fault, that I somehow ruined everything I was given." The seismic effect of his voice has shrunk in correlation to his volume. You can clearly tell that this is the time period when Alicia cemented into his mind that he was a total fuckup. 

Rough beard sears your skin as Diego raises his head to rub a cheek on you. You shudder and fist his shirt in your hand. With a deep sigh he goes on, "I was twenty-two when I made my first deal with a cousin. It took three years but we arranged for a rival outfit to give information to the DEA and they took our father away. Alicia decided this was her chance to take over everything but the men did not all take her seriously as a woman. Thus, she finally had a use for me and so here I am still."

You lean into him, rubbing back. Diego is the first and only person with whom you have actively wanted and enjoyed cuddling. He always smells good to you, even when he should probably shower you still like to bury your nose in his hair and breathe deep. Its gotta be pheromones. 

"She doesn’t know that you made that deal, does she?" You question cautiously, wary of upsetting him. He shakes his head 'no' and brushes fleeting kisses up your neck to your cheek. You take it one step farther, "So could you potentially take over everything by yourself?"

Diego pauses to meet your gaze, his head cocks to the side just the tiniest bit. "Do… do you want me to do that?" His voice is hesitant, cautious even. 

"No." You whisper softly. "I just want you safe. As safe as possible. And I know you'll be safer if she is out of your life." Your smaller hands cup his jaw through their own volition, thumbs stroking over the silver patches in his goatee. Plunging straight into the deep end, you offer an alternative, "Or, if that isn't a viable option, maybe you could quote-unquote 'retire'?" You study his beautiful face as his eyes unfocus while he digests your words. His brow furrows and he purses his lips in concentration. 

"That is worth some deliberation, Princess." Diego admits. Then, with a visible shake, he comes back to the topic at hand. "But now, it is your turn. Turn back, huh? I'll read this." Big hands move you around like a ragdoll and you melt a little inside, I wonder if he could just carry me like a baby all day.

You snuggle back into thick torso and sigh with pleasure. Yes, you're still anxious about this but you trust Diego more. Knees drawing up, you hide in your thighs, he only squeezes you tighter. You can hear him picking up the tablet and. And.

Breathe. Just breathe. My jeggings are soft, the couch is slightly fuzzy, his pants are silky, the blanket is plush. I'm here, with Diego, right now. Safe. You practice the grounding techniques that have worked in the past while he reads silently. His stillness is killing you slowly.

Finally, the tablet goes back to the cushion and the second hand comes back to you. Diego grips your stomach tightly before speaking, "Princess. You understand that you are beautiful, yes? I said I love you because I meant it. You. Just like this. Round and soft and thick. With your glasses and your big dark eyes and these curls in so many shades of brown and silver. Smart, sarcastic, funny, ballsy. You are shrewd and sneaky, that's sexy!" He chuckles a bit and you laugh raggedly, trying to hold back tears. 

"But," he continues in a milder tone, "I understand why you were unnerved earlier. I did not mean to absorb you, or, or erase you. I only want to take care of you. Spoil you how you deserve it. You understand?" That dark voice directly in your ear is incredibly distracting, and then the words register in your consciousness. 

"I, I mean I understand but I don't get it. You know?" Your voice is raspy, you're so tired deep in your soul. This is everything you never allowed yourself to dream of and you're not entirely sure that maybe you aren't in a coma somewhere hallucinating all of this. It certainly feels real, you snort to yourself as you pet over Diego's muscled arms. 

Nuzzling into your neck, he sighs deeply, "Oh, I do. You have no criminal record, you rescue tiny baby animals, I have seen you buy food for other people when their card declines, you sort recycling, woman." Here he laughs wryly and you join him. You see his point, you're both from very different backgrounds and from the outside probably don't seem like a good fit. But still…

"Most of my insecurities come from my size and the way that has influenced other people's demeanor toward me. You have never behaved like that, you always treated me just like all other women. It's both confusing and freeing. Like, at times I don't know how to behave but other times I just run with it." Your confession comes out evenly and sounds logical. Huh, maybe I'm finally getting over some of this.

Diego hums thoughtfully from where he is pressed into your cheek. "And you have always treated me like a person, not a bank or just a good time. Or a path to power." His voice is raspy and low, full of emotion. "As though my feelings mattered. Even that first night. You regarded me as an equal." You chuckle with the memory of forcing him to come to you in the club when you first met. His dimpled smile of delight still has the same effect on you. Recalling the morning after when he wasn't at all fazed upon seeing you while sober and well-lit fills you with warmth, too.

Diego goes on, oblivious to your musings, "I want to take care of you as a partner, not take you over. I want you just as you are, I wouldn't have taken you home, or texted you later, or invited you back if I didn't. I will share everything with you. I have kept you from the business for your own safety, but I, but if, if you want to see or learn, I know you would be an exceptional addition. It would change your life drastically and I did not want to make that decision for you; that would not end well."

You can hear the restrained hope in his words. His serious consideration of leaving the business for you is a revelation. He really and truly wants to share his life with you; to make a life together, not simply add you to his own as an accessory. He values your input and observations but doesn't want to put you in a precarious or dangerous situation. Being with him like this already does that. I'm already in this far, I'm IN LOVE WITH HIM.

"I want to think about it. I can't lie, of course I like the idea of being taken care of, not having to worry about things. But I still need to be my own individual, not a dependent, you know?" Its easier when you can't see him, you're less likely to shutdown and go nonverbal. Diego clearly understands this, and therefore you. Its new and novel and comforting and terrifying. 

With a kiss to your cheek he leans back a bit to whisper, "That is understandable and reasonable. I have been doing research, reading on normal relationships and not so normal women. I have never done any of this before.  But know this: Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, Princess. My wealth, my connections, my power, me, my heart, this dick, all yours."

You snort through tears, "That's like a fucking hallmark card, baby." It hurts underneath your ribs, Is this what love is supposed to feel like or am I doing it wrong? He's certainly doing it right. You giggle unevenly before amending, "Except for the dick. That is all Diego."

His laugh is deep and soft. "I have never bought a card in my life. Is that really what they're like?" He asks incredulously. Your enthusiastic nod only makes him laugh harder, the hoarseness of it giving way to wheezing. "That is horrible!"

"I know!" You crow and then collapse back into him in helpless guffaws. Diego wheezes into your hair, grabbing your hands and holding tight. 

"But," he pauses to giggle briefly, "But, can we try? Will you at least consider more for me? I wasn't sure when to tell you, but... we are going to split the territory and the duties. I am going to stay here, in New York, full time." Diego declares haltingly, his voice quavers with the fear of rejection. "You can come here whenever you wish and I'll be able to reach you in two hours on any day. I want to be as close to you as possible, close for you."

You turn around slowly, openly gawking at him. His big brown eyes are wet, he blinks furiously and licks his lips in apprehension. This dangerous, powerful, stunning man is afraid of your refusal.

 "You… I. I don't know what. That's. No one has ever…" you trail off and gesture vaguely. Your question is thick with shock, "You're rearranging your life for me?"

Diego shrugs half-heartedly. "You are my priority,  Princess. I don't want a life without you. Please tell me that is ok-kay." His voice hitches. For this man that is practically begging. 

You can feel your throat closing up, its all you can do to nod and throw yourself into his arms. That big body sags with relief as Diego crushes you to him. Burrowing into his neck, you choke out fiercely, "I love you, Diego Jimenez." 

His choppy sigh, the soft, "Te amo, Princess." It all shatters you apart. When the pieces come back together again its Diego who fits them into place, Diego who holds you together, Diego who tries to set you free to thrive on your own terms. 

This is like the most ridiculously lovesick puzzle in the universe. Fucking feelings.

[slytherinknowitall]

To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 2: Doubt

(Click here for chapter 1!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Less than ten minutes later, there was a timid knock at her door, and Hermione would have been lying if she had said that that sound did not make her heart skip a beat.

Putting aside the book she’d been absentmindedly flicking through, she walked to the door with a rather stiff and unsteady gait before pulling it open to reveal the familiar figure of the Potions Master.

“Professor Snape,” she whispered breathlessly, trying hard to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. “Um, please, come in.”

Stepping aside, she watched as the man hesitantly took one cautious step into the crammed room; and the unusual sight of his visible wariness made her mentally smack her own forehead.

Of course. He can’t see!

“Here, let me help you,” she offered, reaching out her hand without a moment’s thought. When she touched his forearm, he drew a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, sir.”

Snape did not say anything in response. For an agonizingly long time, they just stood like that in the doorway of her bedroom, her hand on his arm, the awkwardness in the air virtually palpable. It was only when there was suddenly the sound of commotion coming from downstairs that Hermione summoned up the nerve to pull him inside, locking the door behind them. Getting out her wand, she applied a silencing charm as well as some protective wards for good measure.

Better safe than sorry. It certainly wouldn’t do any good to have someone just barge in.

Turning back around to face him, she tentatively grabbed his elbow and guided him towards her bed. She could not help but silently cringe as she saw him there, seated on her tiny twin-size bed, thinking about what might be happening soon in that very spot. But alas, her small bedroom, which she had moved into a mere two months earlier, did not offer any other sitting accommodations. And so, though her heart was trembling so very terribly, she went and sat next to him.

For a while, neither one of them spoke. Kneading her fingers, the young woman struggled to ignore how uncomfortably close she presently was to her former teacher as she stared out the window overlooking the deserted street outside. Looking back, she could not have said with certainty whether it had only been a few minutes or several hours, but by the time the streetlights came on, she finally plucked up the courage to say, “I’m glad that you decided to come here so that we can talk in private.”

“I did not have much of a choice,” Snape admitted huskily. “Alastor practically pushed me upstairs while Albus tried to contain everyone else in the kitchen.”

“They’re still not very thrilled about this, aren’t they?”

He gave an affirmative grunt. “Most of them were ready to jump at my throat and kill me with their bare hands right there and then.”

“Oh …” Hermione had to swallow hard. “I’m sorry. They really ought not to treat you like that.”

“I don’t blame them. I truly have half a mind to turn my own wand on myself.”

A troubled frown creased Hermione’s forehead. There was an obvious hint of blatant self-hatred dripping from his words, and she did not like that. She did not like that one bit.

But before she even had the chance to respond, he continued, “I will be honest with you … I do not even know what to say to you right now.”

Vaguely tracing the diamond pattern of the quilt they were sitting on with one finger, she tried her best to sound nonchalant as she mumbled, “Well, why don’t you simply tell me whether or not you accept my offer.”

“Miss Granger, I –”

“Would you mind if we used first names?” she interrupted him. “Just for today. It’s just that formalities would make this whole thing even weirder than it already is.”

She saw him hesitate for a second.

“All right … Hermione,” he ultimately conceded, and it was so weird to hear him properly address her by her given name for the very first time – though she had to admit that it sounded quite nice coming from his lips. Something about that deep voice of his made her stomach clench up into knots. “As much as I appreciate it, I obviously cannot accept your proposal.”

“Why not?”

“Even forgetting the fact that you were my student for seven years and that I am a lot older than you, I could never in good faith make you endure such a thing. This, this curse,” he spat out the word with disgust. “Is a lot more powerful than you could ever even imagine. It would strip me of all control and force me to do unspeakable things to you that could very well destroy your sanity.”

He turned away from her in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his facial expression which was filled with nothing but self-loathing. “Even now, I can feel the dark magic coursing through my veins, tugging at my mind. It senses your presence. I can hear it whisper to me, bidding me to just rip off this stupid blindfold and take you right here. Merely sitting next to you already requires more will power than any time I have had to shield my mind from the Dark Lord.”

The witch’s breathing hitched in her throat. His crude confession made her heart beat so fast that it was almost threatening to break out of her ribcage. Willing herself to take a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stay put.

No. No, you can do this. For the Order. For Harry.

“I don’t believe that Professor Dumbledore would have sent you up here if he thought that there was a chance of me being seriously harmed,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “And I also don’t believe that any kind of dark magic would ever be able to entirely overpower your morals and your good heart.”

He snorted with biting laughter. “Then you clearly do not know me well at all. Or him, for that matter. All that old madman cares about is the cause. We are all nothing but mere chess pieces in that little, rigged game of his he likes to play.”

“Don’t say that –”

“But it’s the truth! Don’t you see?” His tone gradually got louder and louder. “Any reasonably sane man in his position would have simply hired an unsuspecting prostitute, slipped her a couple of potions and then sent her back home with an altered memory and a nice, big bag filled to the brim with Galleons, blissfully unaware of any specifics. But not Albus. No, in his mind, raping the Muggle-born third of the Golden Trio is the perfect way to feign loyalty to the enemy and thus securing his plaything’s rank among the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Ha! As distraught as he might have acted, he knew from the beginning that you’d be the one to volunteer. Only you’d be foolish enough to let the greasy git of the dungeons fuck you in an attempt to save his pathetic, miserable life. You and your stupid saviour complex. So please, don’t be so naïve. This is all just a fucking charade to that bloody bedlamite!”

What followed that angry outburst was silence – complete and utter silence. Not even the rustling of the trees outside or the rapid palpitations inside both of their chests seemed to be able to penetrate their noiseless bubble. Hermione could feel her own pulse thumbing in her ears, and her mouth felt almost disgustingly dry. Wordlessly counting to a hundred, she at last opened her eyes and dared to cast a glance at the wizard. He was sitting in a hunched-over position, his face buried in his hands. Never before had she seen him like that, so evidently helpless, so vulnerable. For some reason, it nearly made her feel physically sick to witness him in such a state.

“I understand your apprehension, I really do,” she muttered gently. “I’m not quite keen on having to do this either. But I honestly don’t see any other way out of this mess. Somehow or the other, the curse must be broken … and time is running out.”

“I know,” he croaked out, the words muffled by his hands.

“And for all his faults, Professor Dumbledore is right. We cannot put ourselves before the cause. Especially not during dark times like these.” She could not stop her face from twisting into an anguished grimace. “Besides, I dare say that you are being a bit naïve yourself if you think that tricking a stranger would not weigh heavy on your conscience, too.”

Snape slowly lifted his head a little, allowing his chin to come to a rest on the pressed-together tips of his fingers, which were horribly stained from years of daily brewing.

“I don’t think that you are fully aware of what you are getting yourself into here. This would not be like any of your previous sexual encounters, Hermione. There would be no romance, no pleasure, no satisfaction. It would be hard and fast and downright animalistic.” He squared his shoulders. “And though I have never made it a habit to keep up with my students’ private lives, I do not think that it would be wrong of me to assume that an ever-busy academic like you most likely has little experience with such things.”

Hermione felt the warmth creep into the apples of her cheeks as her whole body stiffened, and that movement did not go unnoticed.

“I mean, you do have some experience, right?”

No answer.

“Oh god, you aren’t still a virgin, are you?” Snape rasped despairingly before letting his head fall back into his hands.

Hermione shifted her weight with unease. “I do not attach any value to my virginity if that is the problem, sir,” she was quick to assure him, glad to know that he could not see how awfully red-faced she was at that very instant. “When you think about it, it’s really nothing but a social construct. Will I be a different person afterwards? No. Will you be dead should I refuse? Most likely. So the decision is easy, really. The only reason why I … why I haven’t done it yet is because such a situation has simply never arisen before.”

“No! No, this is deranged!” he cried out as his entire body seized up and started to shake. “How could I ever live with myself knowing that I took something like that from you?”

She bit her lower lip. “I very much doubt that it would be that much better to wait for my first true love or maybe even just a drunken night out to come around first,” she argued with furrowed brows. “Because even in that case, it would be awkward and fumbling and, in all likelihood, disappointing. With you, now, it would at least serve a bigger purpose. It would be special – in its own absurd way.”

“I can’t,” he whispered in a quivering voice.

Suddenly feeling bold, Hermione grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms towards her, forcing him to face her.

“You don’t have a choice,” she told him in a beseeching yet stern manner. “You are far too valuable to the Order to stupidly risk your life like this.”

Snape opened his mouth as though to say something in response, but then he quickly closed it again. Pulling free from her grasp, he leaned back until his shoulders were touching the wall against which her bed had been pushed. He looked like a picture of misery. His complexion was of a deathly pale colour, his jaw was clenched, and a few beads of sweat could be seen running down his forehead.

“I do not want to do anything against your will,” he insisted weakly.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about that if I were you. I –“ She dithered for just a second. Come on, Hermione. Don’t lose him now. “I am rather physically attracted to you.”

His head jerked up in surprise. “You are?”

“Y-yes,” she replied bashfully, all at once feeling dreadfully shy. “I find you quite handsome, actually.”

She was not lying just to make him feel better either. Truth be told, she’d had a slight fascination with him ever since he took over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position during her sixth year, when his passion for the subject really started to shine through – particularly during his more physical demonstrations.

Still, she was glad when he did not ask her to elaborate any further. Watching as he ran a tremulous hand through his jet-black hair, she heard him say, “Surely you are aware of the fact that some men would not take kindly to the fact that you are not chaste anymore?”

“Good!” Hermione huffed exasperatedly. “If they truly measure my worth as a person by who I have given my body to, then I’d rather have them think of me as used goods and leave me alone all together.”

“And what about Weasley?”

She looked at him with confusion in her eyes. “What about him?”

“He seemed … very much opposed to the idea.”

“Oh, he can sod right off!” she snarled angrily, leaping to her feet. “I don’t want anything from him. I never have.”

Walking the short distance to her nearby dressing table, she pulled open one of its drawers and fished out a black hair tie which she then used to fasten her brown curls into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Checking her appearance in the half-tarnished mirror, she could see the man rub his hands across his thighs in obvious discomfort.

“It could hurt,” he said in what sounded like a last-ditch effort to keep from having to yield himself to his fate.

Turning around, her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“I’m sure that I have experienced worse,” she told him calmly, and for a moment, neither one of them said anything. Hermione sat back down next to him. “But like I said, I don’t think you’d ever be actively out to hurt me. I trust you, you know?”

Even though they were mostly hidden behind the blindfold, she could still see his eyebrows lift in surprise. It was abundantly clear that even the mere notion of someone like her trusting someone like him seemed utterly unfathomable to the dark wizard.

There was another short moment of heavy silence. Then, a deep sigh escaping his lips, he finally asked, “Are you really sure?”

The tone of his voice nearly broke her heart. He was normally such an assertive and stern man, but now he just sounded so defeated. It made for an easy choice.

“Yes.”

(Click here for chapter 3!)

[coinofstone]

5x12 The Diamond of the Day pt 1

Final two episodes! Big finale! Why am I making myself cry in the middle of the afternoon! Both eps in this post.

I do love that they made Arthur a sore loser

Enter treacherous white woman #2. Srsly it was lazy writing when they did it for Mordred, it's worse now with Gwaine.

I do love the actual Round Table war room discussion but a) why isn't Merlin seated at the round table and b) why does Leon have so much goddamn faith in Camelot's walls? Like??? You literally said the same thing last year and yet Camelot *did* fall when Agravaine brought an army through the tunnels!

Poor Aithusa. Kid's had a rough life.

I do love Arthur responding to Merlin presenting him with all his supplies ready - which he prepared without his magic mind you - with suspicion 😂

But then he calls Merlin a coward and it's sad

Katie has such a great voice. That entire thing in the cave from her taunting to her laughter to the spell, it just just beautifully played.

Whole ass battle to prepare for and Arthur is just walking around moping cuz Merlin isn't there

So, Merlin's father-vision telling him he's magic itself and he just needs to believe in himself to get his magic going again, does this mean he *didn't* need to go to the cave to get it back? Cuz it seems like he needed to recharge in the cave itself, his injuries were healed when he woke up. That seems like magic cave stuff to me.

Also that "always have been and always will be" - I'm taking to mean 'always have been' in the sense that since he's 'magic itself' even before he was born, his magic existed in other, intangible forms, like we are all stardust etc. But now that he is, he will always be, aka he will not die.

Arthur waking up with his wife in his arms and Merlin's name on his lips, jumping out of bed to act on dream-info.

Balinor telling Merlin to trust in what will be.... like bitch that is literally not how this ends.

5x13 The Diamond of the day pt 2

You know that gif of the cat knocking everything off the table? That's literally Merlin shooting lightning at everyone from his perch on the ridge.

I have a lot of snarky things to say about Merlin coming out of the cave in full Dragoon gear and riding a horse instead of teleporting like the other witches but I'ma keep that to myself.

Mordred is a bitch and Aithusa has terrible aim. At least Aithusa's loyalty to Morgana makes sense.

Arthur said oh shit I'm magic - oh wait no it's that old man again

He also straight up "No! Bad dragon!"-ed Aithusa

Y'know, for all I've watched this episode and screamed about Arthur's death, I don't think I've ever focused on the exact moment he gets stabbed before.

Mordred catches him from behind and he meets it, no fault there. But as soon as he realizes his assailant is the knight who turned on him and joined Morgana, what does he do? HE LOWERS HIS FUCKING SWORD

He leaves himself wide fucking open and vulnerable and Mordred seizes the opportunity. I understand wanting the moment of recognition for Arthur, but on what planet is a trained warrior going to drop his sword mid-attack because he recognizes his attacker as a dude who only just recently decided to forsake him? It's soooooo dumb

There was a whole sequence a few episodes back where Mordred and Arthur are sparring, the point of it was to show that Mordred has become a skilled swordsman. So what exactly was the point in having Mordred run Arthur through as soon as Arthur idiotically lets his guard down? This should've been a meticulously choreographed sword fight, with Mordred getting the upper hand and sticking Arthur properly. Not this nonsense. Look at Arthur's FACE! Oh, Mordred... 👉👈 do you maybe wanna be friends again- STAB ... guess not

Uther's been rolling in his grave but he's taking an extra tumble watching Arthur forget all his skills and training in that moment.

I do appreciate Arthur getting Mordred back though. Like that moment of merciless anger followed by the hurt and regret playing on Arthur's face, warring with surety and responsibility. It was good.

I've rewatched the big confession scene about 16 times just now.

I don't quite understand why Merlin took Arthur to the woods to begin with. Instead of bringing him to the med tent in the battlefield or back to Camelot. What was the reason?

Merlin saying it feels strange (to use magic freely in front of Arthur) and him just going 'yeah' completely deadpan makes me laugh every time.

I really feel like Arthur's head should be elevated at a further incline if he's going to be fed.

Gaius refusing to outright expose Merlin as the sorcerer but nonetheless letting Gwen figure it out on her own warms my heart.

My God Arthur is sitting there dying, feeling betrayed about his best friend 'lying' to him, and still he can't stop himself from looking at Merlin's mouth.

Percival summoned MUSCLE POWER

Hey um random but why does Gwaine even know where Merlin and Arthur are headed? Why would Gaius tell him?

Arthur looks at Merlin so lovingly after he's killed Morgana 😭😭

And now he's literally grabbing at the man's hand 😭 "just hold me, please"

That's gotta be the gayest death scene in television history. If you can watch that without thinking Arthur puts his hand on the back of Merlin's head because some part of him wants to bring him down for a kiss, or that "just hold me, please" is in any way shape or form a 'bros' thing, and certainly not at all an intentional mirror/callback to Isolde dying in Tristan's arms, then I'm afraid you are what we professionals refer to as a dumb-as-nails fucknugget, more commonly phrased as 'willfully ignorant'.

"All that you have dreamt of building has come to pass" yeah except for the whole, y'know, magic still being illegal thing.

I've said this before, but, while I'm sure there was a determined intention to have Arthur die in his armor, probably in some kind of attempt to make sure the audience knows he's died a warrior's death, I *really* think it was kinda stupid that Merlin never removed it, despite Arthur being weak, despite the fact that there was something like five days between him getting stabbed and him actually dying, despite that for the duration of that time they were traveling or hiding out. Merlin managed to produce a cloak to put on Arthur, why did he need the full armor on that whole time? Like even if they left the chainmail on, those plates on his shoulder were just getting in the way, and it looked quite uncomfortable.

Also not for nothing but Lancelot got like, every flower in the forest surrounding lush verdant greens in his death boat, Arthur gets a bunch of sticks.

It suddenly occurs to me, watching this now, that the reason Leon/Percival is such a common side pairing in Merthur fics, is because these two motherfuckers are the only original Knights of the Round Table to survive the series. 🤦‍♀️ I dunno how I failed to notice that before now. My stupidity amazes me.

I'm *really* glad they decided to do this scene with Gwen wearing the Pendragon red dress instead of the black mourning dress. Yes she looks fabulous in it but it's more the symbolism than the 'reality' - with Gwen wearing her house's colors it represents a continuation rather than a finality. Camelot will go on, Gwen will undoubtedly end the war on magic and with Morgana dead (and frankly, I think by now she already brought about the death of all the angry incel type rulers in Albion) there stands to reason her reign will begin with a period of peace, possibly longer than Arthur's. We kind of have to assume that the 'time the poets speak of' is, inevitably, Gwen's reign - which only came about through Arthur's death. It's a little bit toooo subtle in my opinion, but at the same time, I understand the need for the focus on Merlin and Arthur - after all, this show was their journey - not leaving much time to focus on Gwen and Camelot in the aftermath of Arthur's death.

I will just say, the first time I watched this that fucking truck scared the ever living shit out of me. I also just immediately, viscerally hated that scene and declared it invalid - but I think it was because the truck made me jump out of my skin. It has since grown on me, particularly once I started reading 'Arthur Returns' fic.

Everything beyond this point is post-series spec and headcanon, so if that's not your jam you can exit safe in the knowledge that as usual, if there's anything worth commenting on in the S5 extras, I will create a separate post!

For those interested, my go-to post-series fic is We Begin Again by katherynefromphilly I fully headcanon this series as the continuation of the series.

I have a lot of thoughts about Gwen and Merlin post-Camlann.

For one, poor fucking Gwen. She's lost her father, her brother, and her husband, all by what, age 30? That's rough. And who knows what happened to her mom, that was pre-series and I don't think it was ever mentioned.

Merlin, dear god poor Merlin. First of all, I just wanna say straight off that my instinctive headcanon about Merlin was that he never returned to Camelot. I couldn't really say why exactly. I just don't think he could stand being there after Arthur's death. But practically speaking, Merlin's still got Aithusa to deal with, that dragon needs some godsdamned house training asap. He's still the last Dragonlord, it's reasonable to assume he'd immediately take that on considering Aithusa is partially responsible for Arthur's death (the sword Mordred killed Arthur with, only succeeded in killing Arthur because it had been forged in Aithusa's fire-breath) so he's either going to attempt to train the bad behaviors out of Aithusa, or...well...

The only thing is, I do not believe Merlin would abandon Gwen, or Gaius. So my hc is inherently flawed. I do think Merlin probably spend a couple months with his mum, and I do think he ultimately settled near lake Avalon waiting for Arthur's return.

But I do wonder, what must their relationship have been like? Gwen, surely, would've sought his guidance in establishing laws governing the use of magic. And surely, peace cannot last indefinitely, so Merlin absolutely would've defended Camelot and protected Gwen. There's just no way he could've completely turned his back on them, but I doubt he could bear living in Camelot. And Gwen is both strong and practical enough to get on without him there 24/7, even though I'm sure she'd miss him.

I also think she would've found love again. Whether with Leon, as many people hc, or someone else not in the series.

ANYWAY.

Thanks to everyone who came on this journey with me. I will post comments on the extras if I have anything worth saying - and I think I'll do a master post linking all these episode posts after I clean them up once I get time to sit at a computer and do so. Until then! 💙💚

(Gif source) (h/t @shut-up-merlin)

[mxstyassasxin]

Baptize Me (T, 2k)

on AO3

Regulus woke, terrified again, screaming at the nightmare that would probably plague him for the rest of his life. As with every night, he was momentarily disoriented, looking around in confusion at the softly decorated room, pale walls offset by the rich raspberry furnishings. He was settling back onto the mounds of comfortable cushions littering the bed, taking deep breaths to calm himself, when the door opened and a woman with long red hair stood in the light from the landing, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Regulus," her voice was as comforting as the room. And familiar. "Was it the dream again?"

He swallowed his remaining fear and nodded, watching as she made her way across the room to sit on the edge of his bed, taking his hand in hers and studying his face with kind, green eyes.

"Lily," he breathed in recognition, leaning forward to wrap his arms around her, taking comfort in her steady presence. "I woke you, didn't I? You don't have to always come in here. I think you'd be doing it the rest of your life if you did."

"Yeah, well just be glad you got me and not James, he's a grumpy bugger when he's just woken up." Her laugh was light, and it added an extra glint to her eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked him, her voice taking on a more sombre tone. "If it'll help, you know."

Regulus just shook his head. "It's exactly the same as all the other nights I've been here, Lils. I don't know why you don't just turn me out with Sirius."

"Because you've got a price on your head, silly," she says, mussing up his dark, Black family hair. "You're safest here."

He'd been there, in Godrics Hollow, staying with James and Lily Potter for about a month now, every night waking from the same dream, the same nightmare of what might have happened had Kreacher not managed to pull him out of that cave.

He had given the locket to the wizened house elf and begged him to go, to destroy it, yelling what he was sure would be his final orders as the Inferi dragged his weakened body further into the water. Kreacher had surprised him by appearing in the water beside him and dragging him through the ether, with magic unique to house elves, back to Grimmauld Place. One second, Regulus' lungs had been filling with icy water and the next, he had been coughing it up onto Sirius' old, dusty, scarlet bed cover.

"Sirius' room?" he had questioned Kreacher between his wracking coughs. "I won't be able to get out of here, the door's locked."

"No, but I will." Regulus had jumped at the sound of his brother's voice, gravelly from those muggle things he insisted on smoking. "Kreacher," he greeted the house elf cordially before thanking him for something. "I'll take him from here. And the locket too."

Sirius had wrapped a leather-clad arm around Regulus' waist and held out a hand which Kreacher dropped the locket into, then twisted on the spot, apparating them both to Godrics Hollow. There, Remus had fed him chocolate and healed the deep wound he had cut in his palm, while Lily wrapped her arms around his shoulders and James tried to get Sirius to stop pacing a hole in the carpet.

He had barely seen Sirius or Remus since then, the two of them always out on missions for the Order, reluctant to visit for fear of leading the Death Eaters to Regulus. Lily told him one evening that the intensity and frequency of the missions had increased since Regulus had found the locket. It had been destroyed by Dumbledore almost immediately, but it had also confirmed a theory he had that there were more like it out there, hidden in various objects the Dark Lord had felt an affinity with. So, the Order members had been sent off to recover them, James and Lily staying behind to protect Regulus following his defection.

Truthfully, it made him feel a little guilty because James definitely did not enjoy being cooped up in the one place. Obviously, he would have preferred an active mission with his best friends but, when Regulus broached these concerns with him, James had just clapped him on the shoulder.

"Of course I would, mate, but Lily's my number one now. Wherever she is, I will be too and right now, that is here, protecting my best mate's little brother. We're all lucky to have her, don't you think."

And that was exactly what Regulus did think. How could he not when she was here, comforting him after his nightmares yet again, willing to protect him with her life if necessary whenever the Death Eaters decided to come calling.

"Thank you, Lily," he said to her now. "I don't know what I would do without you. I always wake up just as they drag me under and then you're always here, in the doorway with your hair like fire. That's the only way to kill them you know."

"I know," she told him, voice soft as she smiled at him. "Get some rest now, Regulus. Do you want some Dreamless Sleep?"

He shook his head. "No, thank you. It makes me feel funny. I don't like being unaware."

"Alright then. I'll leave the landing light on though. Good night."

"Good night, Lily," he said as she walked out the door.

Regulus tried to get to sleep again, he really did, but after a while he found himself turning to books again to occupy his mind. He had read all the books on the shelves in his room and had finished the one he'd come to bed with. So, he slipped his feet into the slippers by the side of his bed and made his way downstairs to the living room which had bookshelves either side of the fireplace.

He noticed that one particular book had been pulled free of the others and lay flat on the front of one of the shelves. Picking it up, the red, leather-bound book was no bigger than his hand. The pages, edged in red, were so thin that they appeared almost translucent and the writing upon them was tiny, an effort to fit so many words into such a small book. Regulus finished flipping quickly through the pages and ran his thumb thoughtfully over the symbol debossed into the cover.

Making his decision, he curled his legs up under him in the large armchair with the deep, comfortable seat and pulled the crochet blanket over to cover them, intrigued by the small book. He was even more intrigued when he opened it to the title page only to find ‘Lily Evans' scrawled in childish handwriting in the top right corner.

It seemed a very strange book for Lily to have had as a child. The passages were numbered strangely and different parts of it seemed to have been written by different people. Some of the themes it dealt with were also bizarre material for a child, but it ultimately appeared to be about the same main characters. Unfortunately, even his confusion at the strange stories couldn't ward off tiredness for long and that was how Lily found him in the morning, still with her small book held loosely in his grasp.

"Regulus," she shook him awake. "Regulus, I need that book today."

"Huh," he rubbed his eyes and yawned before attempting to shake himself awake. "Oh, morning Lils. Sorry, I found it last night when I couldn't sleep."

Lily chuckled softly and Regulus noticed that she was already dressed for the day in a knee-length woollen skirt, white cotton shirt and stockings. Stockings. Now that was a far cry from the Lily he had come to know. She even had a blazer of some sort flung over her forearm.

"Yes, it probably is one of the best books to use as a sleep aid. Now come on, I need it." She held out a hand to him.

"Are you going somewhere?" He asked, thinking that was the only reason for her attire.

"Yes, somewhere I haven't been able to go for a while."

"Out?" Regulus was confused. They were safe here. Why was she going somewhere?

"Yes, out." Lily rolled her eyes at him, so he scowled and handed her the book. "You don't have to worry, Reg. I'm going to transfigure my appearance a bit. You could come too if you wanted and Remus will be there. That's the only reason I'm willing to go this week."

Regulus perked up a bit hearing Remus would be there. "Will Sirius be there too?"

Lily just smiled amusedly. "No, he doesn't hold with what we're going to do. Neither does James. He thinks it's stupid we still go."

"Go where?" Regulus scowled and quirked an eyebrow.

"I guess you could say we're going to discuss the contents of this book," she said, holding it up slightly. "It can be a great relief in burdensome times. A habit left over from my upbringing in the muggle world."

"Okay then," Regulus agreed, thoroughly intrigued. "Let me get dressed. I'll be quick."

"You'll need a muggle suit. I think there's one in the wardrobe in the spare room," she called after him as he ran up the stairs.

Twenty minutes later, Regulus was sat on an uncomfortable wooden bench in a large, single-roomed building full of muggles, wearing a muggle suit charmed to fit him and transfigured slightly to mute his distinctive looks. Lily, too, was sporting brown hair now rather than fiery red and her bright green eyes were a fairly ordinary hazel. Remus, on his other side, couldn't hide his magical scars but he had adjusted the shape of his facial features just to throw them off a bit and was now leaning forward with his elbows on the shelf in front of him that was attached to the back of another bench, hands pressed together in front of him, head bowed.

Lily was pointing out different parts of the building to him even though he couldn't understand a majority of the terms she used, but he could still appreciate the simplistic beauty of a few of the pieces, especially the windows. She had only just finished explaining who the people depicted in one of the windows were when a man in white and black robes came to stand at the front of the room, his arms raised asking for silence.

As soon as everyone began speaking in unison of sins, repentance and forgiveness, Regulus could feel a warmth starting to radiate through his chest. Then there was a sort of song called a hymn that Regulus could only mumble along to but that filled his heart with hope. It was strange really, that this meeting of people felt so different from the meetings of Death Eaters he'd been present at, even though this group also seemed to be praising a single entity. There was no fear here, no oppression. The acts of the entity that the robed man spoke of reminded him a bit of magic and he glanced curiously to Lily who smiled at him and lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

When everyone in the building bowed their heads as Remus had done earlier, Regulus followed suit and listened to the soothing voice wash over him as it spoke of the vulnerable and the downtrodden, of the lonely and the meek. He found himself joining in easily and emotion was starting to prickle the back of his throat, so much so that he couldn't keep the tune of the next hymn properly. Then, Lily pulled him up to the front of the room, towards the robed man with everyone else. He was slightly nervous now because the man had begun talking about body and blood, and Regulus had had enough bad experiences with that, but Lily reassured him it was just bread and wine, symbolising an oath, so he would just kneel for a blessing.

A blessing. Him. Regulus Black received a blessing from a muggle, and that had really put him in danger of the prickle at the back of his throat becoming tears he could barely hold back. What ended up pushing him over the edge though, just a few moments later, were the dozens of muggles, men, women and children, who grasped his hand and wished for peace to be upon him.

He didn't hear any more of the meeting after that. Not even the final hymn as the emotions had risen in him to become a river of tears that would not stop flowing. All he could do was take comfort, once again, in Lily's arms and remember this new, overwhelming feeling of peace and forgiveness that he had found.