#but I’m also never not thinking about those five years he spent trying to get sqq’s body back

[worldsokayestmagicalgirl]

I just discovered this beautiful Willow Maid Animatic by Mazz & I got sucker punched by some cute unexpected LiuShen before my heart got ripped out by the rest of the video. I HAD TO.

10/10 would recommend.

Also if anyone has ever/ wants to write a fic based on that animatic PLZ let me know I will always volunteer to have my heart broken |ω；｀)

[dira333]

Unstoppable Force meets immovable Object - Tenya Iida x Reader

misunderstanding, friends to lovers - for @shoulmate for the Milestone Event Week 1

Tenya is big, even at five years old.

He’s very respectful, always, though not always as careful with his hands.

“Ouch!” You hold your head, wondering about the size of the bump that’s going to come out where he hit you while waving, chopping through the air.

“I’m so sorry!” Tenya has a lisp too, barely there but only for those who know. You think it makes him sound extra sweet when he apologizes, when he repeats the word sorry over and over until he’s forgiven.

-

Your favorite Hero is the Space Hero: Thirteen, Tenya’s favorite Hero is his big brother.

“Turbo Hero: Ingenium!” He tells you to write it on every possible occasion because your handwriting is prettier and you can do the flashy letters that you often see on merch.

Childhood is easy with Tenya around, with his big hand around yours when you have to cross the street and his shoulder to cry on when you don’t get the best mark on your test, his earnestness when it comes to studying and his stupidly cute guilty smile when you manage to convince him to go play instead, knees muddy and faces stained with dirt.

Even when you have to part for the school year, for all three years of middle school, it’s nothing but a pebble in your path, just a few hours spent apart that make the time spent together all the more worthwhile.

“He said what?” You will ask, sitting crisscross applesauce on his bed as he retells his day at school and he will humm and haw as you practice makeup on him, figure out that mascara can also be used as a weapon and glittery eyeshadow really suits him.

-

And then summer will come and you will run out to play until evening, do your best to convince him to come to the beach with you, to just laze around instead of trying to break his record of how long he can swim without a break.

You will buy him an ice cream cone knowing he has more pocket money than you and sometimes, when the heat is going straight to your head, you will ask to have a taste of it and put your lips where his had been, thinking what it would be like to kiss him.

Tenya is home. 

He is home in a way that hurts sometimes, when you want to be free, want to explore, and yet always come back.

When you take a step outside and look back only to find him waiting, yet never dare to open the doors you desperately want to peek behind.

- - -

“I’m going to U.A.,” Tenya tells you over the phone, quietly, because he should be in bed and you should be too.

“Oh,” you hesitate, looking down at your letter. You haven’t opened it yet.

You’re not sure if you want to go to U.A. too. You know what you want to do, work in Search and Rescue like Thirteen, but you don’t know if you can endure another three years with Tenya this close and yet so far away. 

Though, what other choices do you have? You think about going away, to America, or just across the border. Tenya would still be here, only a phone call away, even closer in your mind.

So you open the letter with a jackhammer heart, find the sentence that matters in the jumble of words and don’t know if you’re supposed to be relieved or overcome with sadness.

“I’m going to U.A. too. Support Class.”

-

Tenya is fast and you are sturdy and yet you want to go, always go, further and farther than you have before, while he could care less if the earth stopped moving today, if he never got past the step he took this morning.

To him, growth is not about distance. To you, it’s nothing but.

-

Tenya’s Class is the one that gets attacked.

And though you’re surely not the last one informed, it feels that way.

Training sure is hard, even more so when you need to beat the Hero Class to get a shot at switching over, so you pretend you’re not disappointed when you see him less and less.

But then the Sports Festival Happens.

You’re not sure what feels worse.

Watching Mei Hatsume and Tenya fight, the sheer absurdity of it all, and the rumours already going around… or realizing that even after all this training, you’re still not good enough.

Your Quirk might not allow you to move mountains, but keeping them upright should not be met with this lack of interest.

You wonder, not without self-loathing, if the world forgot too that Atlas was carrying it still.

-

Tenya is home, but the doors are closed and your key lies inside.

You hear about Tensei from your parents, not him.

Your calls go to voicemail, your messages are left on read.

Maybe, if you could fly or throw a stone real good, you could make at least one last impression on him before he forgets you for real, but all you can do, will do, is make sure that his house will keep standing.

Tenya might have been your home, but you will survive not being his.

- - -

- One year later -

“Hey,” you look up from the newspaper in your hands, the morning dew cold under your feet. 

For a hilariously awkward moment, you think it’s Tensei down by the gate, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun.

But Tensei’s still firmly tied to a wheelchair and this guy is standing upright.

“Hi?” You ask back, digging your toes into the ground.

“Can I- come in?”

“Sure,” you shrug your shoulders. “Mom and Dad are in the kitchen.”

You turn your back on him, which is a big no-no for every soon-to-be Hero so you turn around again, pinprick showers going up and down your back. “I’ll follow you in.”

“I’m here for you,” he announces, not one step closer to the front door.

“Oh.” Time freezes to a halt. 

It’s been ages since you’ve last seen him in person. In the hallways after the Sports Festival in your first year, maybe? 

Or that awkward last visit to his house when he pretended to be sleeping so his mom would send you back down to the living room? You heard that mumbling from the inside of his room, you’re not deaf.

He’s grown taller, yes, but there’s a roughness to him now, like one dragged sandpaper all over his features.

You’ve seen him on TV, fighting for his life, read articles about it too.

Your best friend, your very own personal Hero, Turbo Hero: Ingenium.

You always leave out the ex, thinking about him. It hurts too much, even on good days.

“Can I still come in?” Tenya asks.

“Why?”

He hesitates. “W-why?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I-” He swallows. You wish he would step out of the sunlight. You long to see his eyes again, despite hating yourself for it. Are they still as blue as the deep blue sea?

“You’re not in school anymore.”

“I switched.” You swallow the pettiness that wants to make him ask. “I’m at Shiketsu now. Hero Class.”

“Why?”

You shrug. “There was nothing keeping me at U.A.”

It’s a lie and you wonder if he knows it. That you gave up, in more ways than one.

“I heard you fought in the war,” he adds now, still standing at the gate, still blocking out the sun. He’s stubborn, that one.

You snort against your own will. “That’s not fighting.”

“It is to me.”

You shrug. “Well,” you hesitate. Screw your heart for being too soft. “Do you wanna come in now or what?”

-

“I like your Hero Name,” Tenya adds in the privacy of your room, his voice too quiet for a boy this tall. “Atlas. Like the Titan, right?”

“Hmm,” you make, trying not to notice how his knee just knocked into yours, or how warm it is, skin pressed against skin.

“I-” Tenya hesitates again. “I need to tell you something…. about myself.”

So you sit there, listening, as he tells you about a man named Stain and the revelation that there’s more darkness hiding in a kind man’s soul than the two of you could ever have imagined.

“But I’m…” Tenya closes his hand into a fist. “I’m good now, I think. Better, at least. Worthy to be called a Hero, maybe. If you… if you can forgive me. For how I treated you. I pushed you away because I didn’t want to…” Helpless he moves his hands around, narrowly avoiding your head.

“Sorry,” he says, but without the lisp you haven’t craved hearing as much as you do today.

You sit there, with your hurt and your longing, looking at him. Knowing that he’s not the only one with a secret, though his had been darker than yours.

“I want to forgive you,” you admit. “And I wonder if that makes me a pushover. Because I always forgive you, you know. Even when you eat the last of my fries or make me do extra laps.” You only realize you’re talking in present tense when he smiles, shyly, back at you.

“But I cannot go back to just being friends, you know? I have… feelings for you, Tenya. Have had them for quite a while. And I can’t just be just friends again.”

He nods, turns his eyes up to the ceiling as if the answer to all questions is written there to see.

“I talked about this, a lot, with… uh… Shouto and Izuku, my friends. Ochako too. I’m not an expert on this, by far, but I… never questioned, that we’d be together, you know?”

You sigh. “At one point-”

“No,” he interrupts you softly, “not like that, I…” His hand reaches out, rests warm and heavy on your knee, like a hiker putting his hand on the first boulder of a mountain. “Like forever. Together, forever, the two of us. I just… didn’t know I had to tell you.”

And it’s there, his confession, in the faint red on his cheeks and the softness in his eyes, how he can’t fully look you in the eyes, but can’t look away either.

And unbidden, a question comes into your mind.

What happens if an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?

There’s only one way to find out.

- - -

Turbo Hero: Ingenium. That is Tenya, tall, handsome, yours.

He smiles when he sees you at work, always respectful and always a little bit too much of a fanboy.

“It’s Pro Hero Atlas!” He whispers in awe when he watches, useless, as you carry buildings on your shoulders, put them back where they belong.

Sometimes, when he’s feeling petty, he helps you start arguments with Pro Hero Dynamight, just to watch you win - you’ve got the public opinion in your bag after all.

He’s very respectful, always, carries your bags up from the car and pretends not to notice when you eat ice cream before dinner.

But he’s very human too, forgetting his phone at home and his wallet at work, tends to try and shoulder his worries alone when he’s got you to share the load.

-

Life isn’t easy but it’s easier with Tenya around.

With his big hand around yours when you cross the street and his shoulder to cry on when you don’t get to save everyone. His earnestness when it comes to safety and his stupidly cute guilty smile when you convince him to take a cheat day, laze around and eat cake for breakfast, mix the flavors with a well-meaning kiss.

Even when you have to part for work it’s nothing but a pebble in your path, just a few hours spent apart that make the time spent together all the more worthwhile.

“Shouto did what?” You will ask, sitting crisscross applesauce on his lap as he retells his day at work and he will humm and haw as you try Cosplay on him, figure out that he can totally pull off a bold red lip with the Shouto-Costume you bought. 

-

Tenya is home. 

He is home in a way that hurts sometimes, when you worry if it will hold out against every storm, when you figure out another thing that needs renovating, replacing, not just decorating. 

He’s willing to work on it, leaves the doors open for the sun to come in, knowing you’ll be here for the rain too.

[gudfornuthin]

Unexpected Comfort

Season 4!Diego x fem!reader, (past) Five x reader

! SPOILERS AHEAD !

! MINORS DNI !

Summary: after finding out the news about Lila and Five’s relationship, Y/N needs to get away from it all. Who knew she’d find comfort in the one other person broken too?

Word count: 2.65k words

A/N: ayooo. I wanna thank everyone for the support I received from my Five fanfic, it means the world to me that people read and enjoy my writing. I’m definitely thinking about ideas for a part 2, and I also have some requests I need to complete, but for now this lil thing popped into my head and I had to make it. My sweet Diego deserved so much more. There’s fluff, there’s angst, there’s a lil bit of smut (I’m trying to get better at writing that lol) so I hope you all enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Those were the words that came out of Five’s mouth before Y/N stormed out of the house, leaving behind the shocked faces of the Hargreeves siblings.

Five had cheated on her. With Lila. Diego’s wife, the mother of his children. She felt like throwing up. They’d created a life together, seeming to forget all about the life they had here, in the real world. Five tried explaining how a few hours to her had been years for him and Lila, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She couldn’t imagine giving up on a relationship she’d spent so long working on, like it meant nothing at all. At least they weren’t married with kids. She doesn’t want to think about how much this is killing Diego.

Having left the house, ignoring the calls from the family, Y/N continued walking for what seemed like hours. She wasn’t familiar with this side of town, and the dark streets all blended together. Had she already gone this way? Was there a bus stop she could seek shelter under for the time being? The night was getting colder and she was finding it hard to catch her breath, the tears still flowing. She knew she couldn’t continue on for much longer.

After walking a few more blocks, Y/N finally spots a bar/diner, the lights still on inside. Better than nothing, she thinks, as she slowly makes her way towards it, in desperate need of a drink.

The diner is quiet, only a few patrons scattered around, either drunk or on the verge of passing out. The bar tender nods in acknowledgment when Y/N sits on one of the bar stools, asking what she wants.

“I’ll just have a beer.”

The bar tender rolls his eyes. “What kinda beer?”

Y/N shrugs. “The cheapest one you’ve got.”

He wonders off to sort out her order, as she rests her head in the palms of her hands, closing her eyes and trying not to sob like a baby. The pain in her chest still lingers, as she can’t escape the images of Five and Lila, and the life they had made together. The life that should’ve been hers. With everything going on, she’d almost forgotten about the world ending, again. But that was surprisingly the least of her worries at the moment. She just wanted to scream, and punch and kick anything that got in her way. She needed a cigarette. And she doesn’t even smoke.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

A voice sounds off to the side of Y/N, as she slowly opens her eyes. A beer bottle stands in front of her, and she turns to her left, spotting Diego in the seat next to hers. He looks worse for wear. Red eyes, prominent frown lines, and a pouty lip.

“You look like a kicked puppy,” Y/N mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Diego replies in a gruff voice, grabbing for her beer and taking a swig.

The pair go quiet, listening to the soft tune playing through the overhead speakers, dwelling in their own thoughts. The two of them had never exactly been close. Since Y/N joined the family she’d always gravitated more towards Klaus and Alison. Frankly, she didn’t understand why Diego was here with her. Maybe because they were both dealing with the same situation, with both their partners being the main focal point. Or maybe he was just in desperate need for a drink too, as shown when he downs the rest of the bottle. Y/N alerts the bar tender, putting up two fingers to ask for a second round. Hopefully she can actually have some this time.

“Was I a bad husband?” Diego finally speaks up, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

Y/N glances his way, unsure of how to respond.

She clears her throat. “I dunno if I’m the right person to answer that,” she scratches at the label on the beer bottle. “But from what I saw, you were pretty good at it.”

He doesn’t say anything, so she continues. “And you’re also a good dad. I can’t imagine how hard it was, going from one apocalypse to another, to just living a normal life. Pretending none of it ever happened. You didn’t let that get in the way of taking care of your kids. They know you’re a good dad.”

She notices the tears forming in Diego’s eyes and looks away, knowing he wouldn’t want others to see him cry. She sips her drink, the burning sensation hitting the back of her throat.

“For what it’s worth,” Diego starts, “you’re not a bad girlfriend.”

“I never thought I was,” Y/N bites back, her tone harsher than she wanted it to be. “But what are you supposed to think when the love of your life admits to having an affair?” She laughs bitterly. “With his fucking sister in law!”

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir here,” Diego says, rubbing incessantly at his eyes. “Just tryna make you feel better.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

They bask in silence again, both too stubborn to apologise for snapping at each other. They know neither of them are in the wrong. But the wounds are still fresh, and it doesn’t seem like they’ll heal anytime soon.

Almost an hour passes, along with 9 or 10 bottles of beer between them, when the bartender finally tells them it’s closing time. They both get out of their seats, leaving the bar and standing awkwardly outside in the cold, Y/N shivering having left the house without a coat.

“You cold?” Diego dumbly asks.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Well done, Sherlock.”

Diego looks as if he’s about to say something in retort, but chooses not to. Instead, he silently slips off his jacket, handing it over to her, insisting she takes it before she can refuse. She does so, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’. They continue standing outside the bar, watching the occasional car drive past, lighting them up every so often.

“I can’t go back there,” Y/N says. “Not yet anyways.”

It was a stupid thing to think that this could all be avoided. She’d eventually have to face Five properly, let him explain fully what happened during that time he was away. But she couldn’t. She doesn’t want an explanation, or an excuse. She just wants it erased from her memory. To forget about it all. To forget about Five.

Diego puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood to figure out that shit show tonight.”

He pauses for a beat, then briefly glances at Y/N. “There’s a motel not too far from here. We can grab a couple of rooms, take the time to get some rest, and figure all this out tomorrow.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nodding in agreement, and following Diego to their accommodation for the night.

***

The pair arrive at the dingy looking motel, booking two rooms next to each other, and muttering quick goodnights. Y/N can feel the exhaustion taking over, as she sits down on the bed, and yet the thought of falling asleep makes her anxious. She can’t remember the last time she went to bed alone. It was always Five right by her side, comforting her if she had any nightmares. Which had become more and more frequent the past few weeks.

She tries distracting herself by turning on the tv, flicking through empty channels and purposely avoiding the news. She takes a shower, scrubbing off the physical and metaphorical grime. It helps her feel slightly better, but still she’s wide awake. She walks laps around the room, which isn’t much considering the bed takes up most of the space. And yet she still can’t sleep.

Her mind wanders to the man in the room next to hers. Is Diego having the same issues as she is? Or has he completely worn himself out to the point of passing out for the next several hours. Is it too forward if she goes over there and asks to stay with him for the night? He could end up giving her a weird look and slamming the door in her face. Or he could see a woman, sad and distressed, and know she’s just in need of someone to comfort her. The risk is worth the reward.

Y/N leaves her room, stumbling slightly over her own feet, the alcohol starting to take effect. She steadies herself, standing in front of Diego’s door and knocking. It takes a moment, but he finally opens, shirtless and hair a mess.

“What’s up?” He says, his voice gruff.

Standing in front of him now, Y/N can’t help but feel stupid. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her problems right now, not when he’s still trying to figure out his own. The only thing on Diego’s mind is most likely Lila, and getting some much needed rest. This was a bad idea.

“Uh,” she shakes her head. “It’s nothing, no. I shouldn’t have disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

She begins to walk away, trying not to fall over, until Diego’s voice calls her name. She turns, seeing him standing half way out of his room, a sad expression on his face.

“Neither of us really wanna be alone right now,” he says, motioning slightly for her to follow him through the door.

She waits a second, unsure if this was the best idea. Now feeling as if they were both about to cross a barrier that neither of them could walk back through.

Taking the plunge, Y/N silently follows Diego into his room, closing the door behind her. She suddenly felt nervous, unsure as to why. Diego is already back in bed, getting comfortable under the covers, ready for a much needed sleep. Y/N looks at the bed, then towards the small couch, not knowing which one she’s welcome on.

“Diego…”

“It’s fine,” he rolls over, not looking at her. “You can build a pillow wall if it’ll make you feel better.”

Y/N nods, not wanting to admit how glad she was that she could sleep next to Diego tonight. She’d feel this way about anyone at the moment, right? It’s got nothing specifically to do with him. Her mind is racing, as she climbs into bed, hoping to fall into a deep slumber as quick as. She doesn’t build a pillow wall.

***

Barely an hour passes before Y/N is woken up suddenly by a sound. She sits up in bed, eyes bleary and watery, looking around the room with squinting eyes. The bathroom light is on, shining through the cracks, and Diego is no longer beside her.

She hears the sound again, a soft whimper, barely audible. It’s coming from the bathroom, and she can already guess who it is. She slowly scoots out of bed, tiptoeing on unsteady feet towards the door, knocking slightly. No answer. And the noise has stopped.

She knocks again, trying the door handle at the same time. It budges, as she gradually pulls it open. The sight was heartbreaking. Diego sits in a curled up ball in the corner, covering his face, and desperately trying to stop his heavy breathing. He doesn’t acknowledge Y/N’s presence, as she moves over to him, crouching down. She gently grabs his hands, pulling them away to see his red, tear stained face.

“I’ve lost everything,” he whispers, breaking Y/N’s heart more than it already was. “I feel like my life’s over.”

Y/N strokes his hands, trying her best to soothe him in anyway that might work.

“I have no purpose without her,” he continues. “I try saving the world, but I couldn’t save the one thing that matters the most to me. I’m useless.”

“That is not true,” Y/N finally replies, hating these thoughts running through Diego’s mind. “Her actions are not a reflection on you.”

Diego begins to protest, but Y/N quickly shuts him down. “I know how much you care. Sometimes I think you care a little too much. But that just proves how good of a husband and father you were. You did nothing wrong. It’s all on her. And Five.”

She chokes out the last part, almost forgetting about her own problems. They’re both going through this, together.

Y/N doesn’t even realise she’s now crying too, holding her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. Diego reaches out, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, the pair needing comfort from each other more than anything.

She moves her head back slightly, kissing Diego on the forehead, then the cheek, then hesitating at his lips. Her mind feels fuzzy, as the alcohol in her system still lingers, jumping between the pros and cons of what she’s about to do. Diego makes the decision for her.

The kiss is soft at first, his moustache tickling her upper lip, the sensation of it weird but not unpleasant. She wraps her arms around his neck as he puts his hands on both sides of her face, deepening it into a full blown make out session. Y/N opens her mouth, allowing Diego to slip his tongue in, eliciting a quiet moan from her.

Their current position is uncomfortable, as Diego sits pressed up against the sink with Y/N crouched down in front of him. He pushes her back slightly, so they can both stand, never stopping the kiss. The room feels hot, as they walk out of the bathroom and aim for the bed, Diego sitting down on the edge with Y/N straddling his lap. She quickly removes her top and bra, drawing the man’s attention to her breasts. He moves away from her lips, traveling down until he’s eye level with her chest. He takes one in his mouth, sucking harshly, while his hand massages the other.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N sighs, throwing her head back.

She grabs his hair, pulling a fistful of it, forcing Diego to suck harder. She moves her hips back and forth on his crotch, desperately wanting to get out of the rest of her clothes.

As if reading her mind, Diego pulls back, moving them both higher up the bed, quickly removing his pants as Y/N does the same. Now completely nude, the pair become a sweaty mess of body and limbs, wrapping themselves around each other, and making sounds the other occupants in the motel can definitely hear.

Diego’s thrusts are meticulous, as he hooks one of his arms under her leg, pushing in and out, knowing all the right places to make Y/N scream out in ecstasy. He kisses her lips, her neck, her chest and her breasts, not wanting to leave out any part of her. He makes her feel wanted, admired, needed. Like he can’t breathe without her. It feels good. They carry on into the night, and early morning, for a moment all their problems don’t exist anymore.

***

Y/N wakes up first. Her head is pounding, her mouth is dry, and there’s a dull ache between her legs. She grumbles, the memories of last night rushing back to her in an instant. Some good, some bad, and some unforgettable. A small part of her is consumed with guilt, knowing what she did could be seen as hypocritical.

But as Diego’s strong arm wrapped around her waist pulls her closer to his chest, snuggling into her neck, that feeling washes away. In some selfish way, they both needed this. An eye for an eye, as most would say. It’s not going to end well, and she knows they’ll have to eventually deal with the consequences the same way Five and Lila did, but for now, the rest of the world can wait a while. Y/N turns around, moving impossibly closer to Diego, the man who made her feel wanted at a time where she didn’t think she was.

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Four

Pairings: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: did you guys know fifty dollars back in ‘66 was like five hundred dollars??? I didn’t and now I wish I never did. Anyway I kinda just wanted to explore more of Angus and Y/n relationship before the event of the holdovers. So a little backstory on this one. I maybe got carried away. Also this is a long ish chapter cause I have MAJOR exams to take so yeah :0 it might be while till I update again.

Word Count: ~7.5k

Enjoy!

Four Years Before - June 12th, 1966

Your parents had fled to Barbados for a destination wedding which they would follow with a cruise they claimed to deserve. Although it was one of those rare occasions where they had extended an invitation, you had declined. The prospect of being able to stretch your legs on the couch without worrying if you would be crushing some unknown guest, or to be able to walk into rooms without crashing into a waiter passing out shrimp puffs, was much more appealing. You had been left behind with fifty dollars for your fun fund, as your mother called it, and a kiss on the forehead. The nanny your parents kept on retainer would check up on you occasionally only to find you were much better at cleaning up after your messes and doing ordinary tasks than your parents. She’d leave after a few hours and then over the course of the first week she stopped coming.

You had prepared yourself for a month of solitude after Angus had announced he’d be spending his vacation at a tennis camp in Montauk. You must have been reorganizing your bookshelf for the third time that day (once by alphabet, then by color, and finally by size) when you heard a knock at the door. The sun had just begun to set, the sky colored a purple-blue, and you cautiously decided to take your fathers golf club. You dropped the club shortly after opening the front door to find not the face of Norman Bates but of your best friend. You scanned his tear-stained face. His eyes were glossy and his cheeks rosy, like when one stands in the snow and is attacked by the harsh winds that nip at your skin.

He collapsed into your arms, and you are quick to hold him steady. He was crouched over, having had a growth spurt a few months earlier, making it hard for you to look at him eye to eye.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

It was the summer of ‘66, where paranoid parents were starting to believe rock music would possess you. Ironically, it was the year Pet Sounds came out and you couldn’t stop rewinding the songs on your turntable. And most significantly it was the summer you spent with Angus.

He broke the news through jumbled words and choked down tears. How his father had been placed in a Mental Health hospital and how taking him to camp was just an excuse to make sure he wouldn’t be there when the people from the hospital came to pick his father up. They had apparently come early, mixing the dates up.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” You asked, hugging his torso.

“No. I'm sure she’ll be coming to check soon though,” he sniffled, “She’ll probably try to drag me to Montauk anyway and say that ‘it’ll be good for me’.”

You kiss his curls, “What if you stay here?”

He lifts his head up, “I’m not sure she’ll let me.”

“I think she will,” you reassured, “I am a very good guilt-tripper.”

“You can try if you want. How much did your parent’s leave you anyway?”

“Enough for both of us, don't worry. Even if we run out, we could whip something up to eat.”

His eyes widened, “Let's stick to take-out.”

Your house was the first place Angus’s mother looked in, just like he had predicted. He hid at the top of the stairs, staying away from his mom's line of sight as she pressed you for his whereabouts. You had been truthful about how he wanted to spend the next few nights here.

“Are you serious? I’m not going to leave two fourteen-year-olds alone, unattended, unsupervised! God knows what you’ll get up to.”

“We’re not going to do anything!” you argued, “We’re smart enough to not light the house on fire and to dial 911, in case we happen to. Angus just wants to be away for a little while. You should understand why,” you glared.

She looked down, shuffling her heeled feet.

“Besides, you take him away now he’s just to keep coming back here,” you sighed, stating the obvious.

She cleared her throat, coughing as she nodded, “Fine. Alright. Uhm- just make sure he calls me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you do your best to stop yourself from slamming the door in her face. "Bye.”

“The coast is clear,” you shout to Angus who came barreling down the stairs, skipping the last few steps.

“Did she look mad?”

You shrug, “A little. But she'll move on.”

He hums, agreeing as his eyes flicker around the room. He’s looking at the house he must have been at least a thousand times, whether because you invited him or because your parents did. And for the first time in either of your lives… it was completely silent. …

That first night Angus slept on your bedroom floor on a mattress you had dragged from the guest room. You had only your lamp on, and your window was open just wide enough to bring in the refreshing summer air. You were reading a few pages of your book to Angus, and when you glanced down you saw his eyes beginning to close.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. You have a nice voice is all.”

“Thank you. You do want to go to sleep though,” you observe.

“Should I turn off the lamp?” He says almost immediately. He lifts himself up slightly so he can reach your bedside table and waits for your permission to turn it off.

“Yes please.” You settle deep into your duvet. You turn to the side that faces Angus and wish him goodnight.

A few minutes later he speaks up again in a whisper. “Thank you again. For letting me stay here. I'll be out of here by next week, swear.”

“If you could, I would want you to stay here your whole life.” He scoffs at your words as you lean up with the support of your elbows to stare him down. “I’m serious. I only wish I could live in a house with you. Except somewhere far away from here.”

“By the beach,” he adds.

“Yeah. On a beach so obscure they can’t even send us mail because no one will know our address.”

“Oh no. How would your parents ever send you the invitation for your debutante ball?”

“I guess they’ll just have to throw it without me.”

“Shame,” Angus sighs. “I would love to see you in a white dress.”

You pause and then crash down back into your bed. You admire the garland that hangs above you. It’s made of postcards your parents sent you during their many endeavors. In that moment you're reminded of them and turn to Angus. “Oh. About that. My mom told me to tell you to prepare to be my escort in a few years.”

“Already?!” …

You and Angus had fallen into a routine. He’d sleep way later than you, sometimes until noon, and you’d wake him when you got too impatient and hungry for breakfast. He’d stir and groan to the point that it was obvious he was faking before finally getting up.

You would carry what you could from your kitchen pantry onto the backyard patio and eat under the summer sun. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet of fig jam, English muffins and sometimes pears from the tree that stretched over your neighbor's fence. Afterward you and Angus continued your day in the green grass. He would sprawl himself out on a picnic blanket and read a comic book, wearing shades that were on the verge of tipping off his nose. Meanwhile you would tend to your mother's garden. You’d put on her straw hat too, just to make it feel like you were with her.

When you were little, you’d pull the weeds out of flower beds as your mom pruned her lavender. It was her dearest plant, and she treated them so, regularly nursing it to keep it alive. She’d motion for you to come with her and pick up the shears from the gardening shed. Eagerly obedient, you did as she said, and you would work together until called for lunch. Your mother was always a vivaciously elegant woman, always knowing the right things to say and charming anyone she met. You often wondered why you hadn’t inherited her brilliance, the one that made her seem as if she was glowing in any room she inhabited. It was odd that she’d often claim her ability to converse was her greatest ability when the two got along best when moving in silence.

You did your best to care for the plant too. Before you mom left, she asked to handle their upkeep. You took your duty seriously, checking in on them every day until you saw one sign of disarray.

That summer was like playing house. And although you never admit, for the fear that he’d read too much into and freak, it was exactly as you had often dreamed it to be. June and July passed quickly, and you hadn’t even noticed it. You imagined a life where it could just be you two forever, away from your parents and outside of stifling Massachusetts.

You imagined a life in an apartment described as ‘quaint,’ by the realtor to disguise the incredible small square footage. You wondered if he would like to be in a city like New York or Chicago. Somewhere that was always busy, and the chirping of morning birds was replaced by honking cars.

By the time August had rolled around, you could practically hear the unmistakable sound of the school bell ringing in your ear, warning you of its proximity. Thoughts about the future had you asking Angus one bleary Sunday afternoon, “Are you nervous about starting high school?”

Angus was pushing you on the tire swing, trying to give you motion sickness by twisting the ropes of the swing and letting them untangle a second later.

“Not really. It’ll be like eighth grade just with more tests.”

“I guess. But aren’t you nervous about making new friends and stuff? What if we tangled ourselves into a web so deep that we can’t talk to other people normally.”

“Then I have done my job of keeping you to myself.”

“Haha,” you deadpan, “Seriously though. Won’t you miss having me to talk to?”

“Of course I will. But you’ll write to me and crap… right?”

“Of course,” you echo his words back to him, “You’ll visit me when you get the chance too, correct?”

“Eh. If I’m not busy.”

“Angus!”

“Yes! Obviously, I will.” He pushes you a little harder.

“I do want you to be more out there though. Don’t go sulking in corners like you always do. People would really like you if you let them talk to you for more than one minute.”

“You’re starting to sound like my mother Y/n.”

“Seriously though. Did you notice we’re always addressed as ‘Y/n and Angus’ by teachers. Never just Y/n and never just Angus.”

“Yeah. But I like it. It’s like Bonnie and Clyde. You can’t separate them because then it sounds plain wrong.”

“Okay Clyde,” you roll your eyes. You stop swinging, scraping your shoes through the dirt until you are still.

“I’m giving us two weeks before we break down to each other over the phone.” You lose the hold you have on the tire swings and let them drop onto your lap. You simmer under the sun and enjoy the breeze that flows through your hair.

“Don’t go replacing me when you get to your school.”

“Don’t worry, you got a head start seven years ago. No one else will be able to catch up,” you smile teasingly. “Maybe I’ll find myself a boyfriend though. About time for the both of us, don’t you think?”

He frowns, “You don’t need a boyfriend.”

“Yes, I do. Everyone else does.”

“Since when do you do what other people do? I think you should stop talking to people who peer pressure you,” he flicks your forehead.

“Why?” You rub your forehead, “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” You smirk.

“Gross! No! I was just kidding. Get a boyfriend, I don’t care.”

“You wouldn’t care if I got a boyfriend?” You look at him skeptically.

“As long as he treats you nice and shit,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s just that we do everything together Angus. There are some things I would like to get over with that I can’t do with you.”

“Like what?” Angus wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“Like hold hands and go to bowling alleys or whatever.”

“We’ve done that.”

“I like…kiss,” you whisper, fidgeting with your hands.

“Oh,” he chuckles awkwardly. “So would you want to do that … now?”

“What!” You shout, leaping off the swing and walking a few steps away from him. “I’m not asking you to,” you clarify, shaking your head.

“No, but I would like to be over and done with it too… so maybe we should just…” He motions his finger between you two.

“Uhm,” you laugh, tilting your head, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’ll be just to check it off the list,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Um, yeah, okay,” you move closer to him in small timid strides. “You lean in though. I read that the guy is supposed to do that in my mother's Cosmopolitan.”

“Right, right,” he nods eagerly, interlocking your fingers together. With hesitancy he leans his head down and pulls you even closer to the point where you are bumping your noses. You close your eyes, and it's like your brain begins to spin like those show wheels with choices on them. Your brain tries to land on a feeling but loops on endlessly. His lips are softened by the humidity, and you don’t even notice it is over until a couple seconds after he pulls away.

When you think back on it, it really was the most 'first kiss moment’ to ever exist. It was more of a peck, both of you were bright red and shortly after you were as stiff as statues. Not knowing what else to do, Angus clears his throat and removes his hands from yours to wipe them on his shirt. “So, uh, what does your mothers Cosmo say to do afterward?”

You let out a breathy laugh, “I don’t know. I didn’t read that far.”

…

Christmas Eve - December 24th, 1970

After that summer, when you shared a weepy goodbye and headed off to your own high schools, it was undeniable that something had shifted between you both. Even if it often went unspoken. Neither you nor Angus had brought it up, but on occasion you would acknowledge it. Like last night after leaving the auditorium to return to the common room and pick up the dishes, your eyes drifted to the TV where a cheesy kiss scene was happening on screen. The two of you shared a knowing look that said, “That’s not how ours went down,” before shutting the television off and helping Mary into a more comfortable sleeping position.

You tried not to dwell on the past, but it was hard not to when the only thing in your childhood that had always been good, always been constant, was Angus. Every time you looked into his eyes it was like the decade you had spent together flashed by in a sequence of blurs. All he had to do was breathe a specific way in his sleep to remind you of some obscure memory that had died but he had brought back to life.

This morning you felt like you were ten again and Angus was trying to steal your bread rolls at Thanksgiving dinner. Except today he tried swiping your bacon as you shoved him off playfully.

“Get your own Angus,” you say playfully.

“I’ll trade you for my toast,” he offers.

Rolling your eyes you accept, grabbing the bacon and shoving it in his mouth, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he says, muffled.

You munch on your toast and catch Mr. Hunhams stare.

“I see you two finally made up,” he comments with a sly smile on his face.

“Mm-hmm,” you cover your mouth with your hand as you chew and turn away embarrassed.

Mary joins you all a second later, emerging as usual with her coffee and a cigarette. She switches between eyeing the two men infront of her, “Why’d you two miss supper last night?”

Mr. Hunham and Angus freeze. “We went into town on, uh, some school-related business.”

“And you couldn’t call? You left me and Y/n out in the cold.”

“Yeah Angus,” you pout at him as he nudges your ankle under the table.

“Sorry,” Hunham turned to you, “And to Ms. L/n.”

“No worries. Really. I had fun,” you smile up at Mary who pats your shoulders gently.

Danny, a man you had been introduced to a few days ago, enters with a mop and bucket. You wave to him which he acknowledges with a slight bow of his head.

“Good morning, everybody.”

“Hi, Danny,” Mr. Hunham greets.

“Good morning. You can go on in and make yourself a plate,” Mary points to the kitchen.

“I just saw something funny,” Danny focuses onto your friend. “I walked into the gym, and somebody had vomited in there.”

Mary and you raise your eyebrows in sync.

“You don’t say. I don’t know anything about that,” Mr. Hunham feigns surprise.

“Yeah, me neither,” Angus wipes his mouth as he speaks.

“I’ll look into that right away. Thank you,” he dismisses the conversation.

“Mm-hmm. I see how it is. Trying to leave us out of your boy's club,” Mary tsks. Danny places the custodian supplies beside Angus' chair and walks away.

“Gross Angus,” you say, like it's his full name. You shake your head in disappointment. He nudges your ankle harder, shaking the silverware above. You fight back, beginning to use your hands as a defense. You two are soon in a game of tug of war.

“Knock it off you two! You are acting like fractious children!” Mr. Hunham scolds and stands up from his seat. Across the table, he tries to part your hands. “This is not how young scholarly men and women behave!”

You and Angus are too drunk on laughter to care. …

You and Angus are in a search for Mr. Hunham who stomped away upon realizing stopping you two was a fruitless cause. You intend to apologize; Angus intends to nod along as you speak. You follow the chatter you hear coming from the kitchen to find Mary replacing you as you as her sous chef.

“Hey that's my job,” you point at the potatoes Mr. Hunham is peeling.

“That’s the culinary industry for you. It’s cut-throat. You still want to be a part of it?” Mary peers over her glasses.

You run a hand through your hair, shrugging. “Um. Mr. Hunham?”

He stops his task, “Yes Miss L/n?”

“I want to apologize for my-,” Angus clears his throat, “Our behavior. You were right. It was very inappropriate. Emily Post would turn in her grave.”

“She certainly would. I accept your apology, however unnecessary. I understand it was that childlike spirit in you that is still intact that came out.”

You shoot him a quizzical look. “Uh yeah…”

Angus gasps behind you as he notices the tray of brownies on a table beside him.

“Brownies? God, yes. I want all of these.”

“Each of you just take one. The rest are for the Christmas party tonight.”

Angus snags you a brownie before practically chomping his down.

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He perks up like a dog being told he’s going out for a walk.

“Yeah, at Miss Crane’s house. I’m only gonna go for a little bit, show my face and say I was there. You know Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

“Who’s Miss Crane?” You ask, inspecting the brownie and wondering what Mary does so differently to get it to taste so good.

“School secretary,” said Angus with a full mouth. “Just one of the loveliest faculty members at Barton,” said Mr. Hunham at the same time.

A beat passed as you all noted the flustered expression that passed through Mr. Hunham face.

“Ah- anyways, she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

“If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take them.”

“Mary can take us,” problem solved, Angus thinks.

“Oh! Okay… so we are going! I packed a dress that’s been collecting dust in my luggage.”

“No, that’s not how it works. You’re under my supervision,” Mr. Hunham reminds.

“Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around reading books all day, but I am losing my goddamn mind! Jesus!” Angus' suddenness makes you flinch. You avoid the flying brownie as he storms past you.

“Hey! Watch your mouth, young man. Not on Christmas Eve!” Mary yells after him.

“You, see?” Mr. Hunham points at his retreating figure. “I can’t trust him in a social situation.”

“Mr. Hunham, if you’re too chickenshit to go to that party, then just say so. But don’t fuck it up for the little asshole or his sweet little angel of a friend! What’s wrong with you? It’s just a party. What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Hunham said so quietly you could hardly hear him.

“Shit. Now you’ve got me nervous,” Mary wipes her hands on her apron.

You’re still standing there until they hear you go retreat the brownie and throw it in a nearby waste bin. “I could replace those?” You laugh uncomfortably.

“That’s alright sweetie. I want to come out of this party with my reputation intact,” Mary winks.

“Ouch,” you clutch your heart jokingly. “So can I go get dolled up?” …

Someway, somehow, Mary had gotten Hunham to take you to the party. You got ready in the room Ye-Joon and Alex had occupied before. You hadn’t anticipated wearing anything fancy, so the dress you had was a relatively simple one. It was red which fit the Christmas theme well enough and ended just above your knees. You hoped Mr. Hunham wouldn’t make a big deal out of it like Ms. Orchard probably would. You wore flats and did your hair the best you could without products. Although you had managed to give it some more volume by using some leftover soda cans that had yet to be thrown out. It was a common hack all Janie Patrick School girls learned in their freshman year. It was practically a seminar, as the senior girls taught you how to roll them into your hair just right.

You waltz out of your room, feeling as fresh as a daisy and catch Angus shaving. You sneak up behind him, putting your hands on his shoulder and looking at him through the mirror. “What is there to shave Augie? You’re as clean shaven as a newborn baby,” you tease.

You try to check your makeup and feel Angus stiffen under your touch. You remove your hands and see him staring at you open-mouthed.

“What?” You panic. Had you screwed up your hair? Was your mascara too clumpy on your lashes?

“Nothing,” he gives you a once over as he gulps. “You just, you look, you… you look pretty.”

“Oh,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, “Thank you. It’s just the makeup.”

“No, it’s not that. You always look pretty; I just never have a reason to tell you. But I can… today.”

“You look handsome everyday too…” you fidget with your hands.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile up at him bashfully. Quickly you take the razor from his hands, “even more handsome once you change. We’re going to be late."

You run back to your room and try to regulate your breathing. In the reflection of the fogged-up window, you admire yourself momentarily. You suppose you do look pretty tonight. …

You four travel in Mr. Hunhams rickety car. You awe at the town Christmas lights before arriving in front of what you assumed to be Miss Cranes house. One by one you all enter, lingering by the front door like wallflowers. You inch closer to Angus, self-conscious suddenly. You loop your arms together when Miss Crane enters to greet you.

“Oh, hi. Oh, you made it! Welcome,” she pauses to address you and Angus, “Aw hi!”

“I'm so glad you're here,” she tells Mary.

She laughs at the flattery and refers to the brownies, “Where should I put these?”

“Um, oh,” Miss Crane lifts the cloth draped over the tray and gasps, “Those, I’ll be putting on my bedside table.”

“Oh! You're a wicked woman.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she takes the tray off Mary's hands.

“Certainly a lot of people here,” Hunham comments, surveying the room. It is lively with Christmas classics blasting on the radio and kids running around playing tag. The entire house is decked out, almost looking like the spirit of Christmas had barfed out the decorations. Some adults take a swing of their liquor, others smoke, others do both as they chat.

“Yeah, yeah. Some family, friends from town. Only you guys from work.”

“That’s my mom on the couch,” She points to an older lady sitting by the silver and blue Christmas tree. Next to the woman dancing with her toddler who wears no pants. “Uh, that’s my sister Kathy and her son Marvin.”

As she continues to point out each invitee you wander with Angus further into the living room. He seems captivated by a snow globe on a mantel. He shakes it and watches as the snow falls around Santa. You too are enchanted by the sweet melody that plays from it.

“Angus!” Miss Crane snaps you both from your trance. Miss Crane stands next to a girl who appears to be around your age.

“This is Angus Tully. He’s one of our students at Barton. Angus, this is my niece, Elise,” she introduces.

“Niece Elise. Nice,” he glances at you, hoping you got the joke as Elise rolls her eyes at his word play. You give him a tight-lipped smile. “And is his friend Y/n L/n. She goes to the school across the lake from Barton. Janie Patrick’s.”

“Nice to meet you,” you stretch out your hand for her to shake. She does so awkwardly.

“And this is Mr. Hunham. He’s one of our finest teachers. History, right?

“Ancient Civilizations, yes”.

“And this is Mary Lamb. She’s the manager of the cafeteria.”

You don’t know why, but you start chewing your nails. A habit you had thought you had broken in the seventh grade. You bite down particularly hard every time Angus glances at Elise.

“Hey, why don’t you take Angus down to the basement and introduce him to our family tradition?” Miss Crane has a hint of something you can’t identify in her voice.

“Come on,” Elise tilts her head and hesitantly he seems to follow.

“Um. What about Y/n? Can’t she come?”

“Don't worry about that! I have someone I think she would like to meet,” Miss Crane nudges you forward.

“Oh?” you say worriedly.

Elise takes Angus away by the hand and distantly you hear him call out, “Wait what?”

“His name is Joseph Leery. He’s a freshman at Yale!” she gushes.

“Oh? Great? Go bulldogs? That’s the mascot, right?”

“Honey, save your charm for him!”

…

Angus descends downstairs. He repeatedly glances behind him, desperately searching for the remaining bits of your voice. “Um. Maybe I should go back upstairs? My friend Y/n doesn’t do so well with crowds so.”

“Nonsense! She’ll be fine. If I know Auntie Lydia, she’s probably introducing her to the Leery's son, Joe.”

“Joe?” Angus scowls at the name.

“Yeah. Family friend of ours.”

Elise leads him to an arts and craft table, full of scattered red, green, silver and white pipe cleaners. Glitter is spilled everywhere, and the kids take their time decorating their popsicle sticks.

“This is what you wanted to show me?”

“I grew up playing down here during my aunt’s parties. I think it’s kind of cool. There’s a purity to it. I mean, every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up. Picasso said that.”

“Picasso’s cool,” Angus digs his hand further into his front pockets, “I saw Guérnica once. You know, the big mural, with the horse,” He tries to mimic it as best he can.

“Yeah, I know Guérnica. You really saw it?”

“Yeah. At the Museum of Modern Art in New York. It’s huge. My dad took me.” And Y/n too, he wants to say. Although if what Elise said was true, that Miss Crane fancied herself a modern-day cupid, then he figures he should try not to scare her off by bringing up another girl.

Although it's hard not to think of you when he thinks of his dad. His dad liked puzzles which you happened to have a plethora of that your parents had bought you to keep you entertained during long plane rides. This was before they trusted you enough to leave home alone.

In the winter you’d sit by the fireplace and lay out the puzzles of Monet’s Water Lilies. Then when the spring would offer you limited warmth, you’d all be found in the backyard of Angus’s house trying to piece together Van Gogh's Starry Night.

So many art inspired puzzles eventually had Angus’s father turn to you both and asking, “How would you guys like to see these in real life?”

That easter break had you three crammed into a yellow taxicab and enjoying New York pizza slices.

“Hey Guérnica,” she breaks through his nostalgia plagued mind, “You just gave me an idea,” she smiles.

…

Mr. Hunham stands by the funky-looking Christmas tree when he feels someone’s lips crash onto his cheek.

“Oh!” He says shocked. He feels as if he had just been dumped into a cold bucket of water.

“Mistletoe!” Miss Crane laughs, pointing at the little green and red plant that hangs on the ceiling. She hands him the Jim Beam he asked for earlier as she wipes the side of his face clean to get rid of any lipstick that might have been transferred.

“Yes, of course,” he laughs along, unsure of what else to do but to let her caress his face. “I didn’t you know you were quite the mastermind.”

Miss Crane tilts her head and motions him to elaborate

“Playing matchmaker for Mr. Tully and Ms. L/n.”

“Oh! Well, when Angus said they weren’t an item I figured they’d were itching for a chance to mingle outside of their little circle. I hope I didn’t overstep anything. After all I imagine they don’t get many opportunities to openly chat with people of the opposite sex! Dating is crucial in shaping character.”

“Yes, I imagine it is,” Mr. Hunham agrees, unsure if that is fact or fiction. He is awful at letting silence just be silence, so he does what he does best. Spew nonsensical facts.

“You know, it’s interesting. Aeneas carried mistletoe with him when he descended into Hades in search of his father.”

“Oh. Huh…” Now it is Miss Crane who is unsure of what to do with that.

“Um. Anyways. I like your tree. It’s really space age,” he comments and is hit slightly in the shoulder by her enthusiastic hand.

“I brought it to commemorate the moon landing!”

“Really? Wow.”

Miss Crane takes a sip of her punch, “So where is your family this Christmas.”

“Nowhere. I’m an only child. My mother died when I was young.”

“And your father?”

“Let's just say I left home when I was fifteen.” If Mr. Hunham had known this was what small talk topics had evolved into, then he must have been right in avoiding social functions all this time.

“You ran away?” She guesses.

“Worse. I got a scholarship to Barton. And from there, I went to college and never looked back.”

“But you did a little,” she points out.

“Hmm?”

“I mean you came back here.”

“Ah.” He really did not feel like being questioned so heavily tonight. Not to pat himself in the back, but he believes he's credible enough to label himself as a decent writer, able to handle the equal weight of a pen and his words with ease. But as a conversationalist, he figures even one of the dimwits in his Ancient Civilization classes have him beat.

“It feels kind of like home I guess,” he muses, “and I guess I thought I could make a difference. I mean, I used to think I could prepare them for the world even a little. Provide standard and grounding that Dr. Greene always drilled into us.”

Mr. Hunham can feel himself run out of breath, “But, uh the world doesn’t make sense anymore. I mean it's on fire. The rich don’t give a shit. Poor kids are cannon fodder. Integrity is a punchline. Trust is just the name of a bank.”

“Well…” Miss Crane tries to soothe him by running her hand back and forth on his arm, “look, if that's all true then now is when they most need someone like you.”

Mr. Hunham knows when he is being humored and told what people he wants to hear. He looks at Miss. Crane and for the first time in a while he is looked back at with genuineness.

…

Elise and Angus finger paint on a wide piece of blank paper. He’s mixing the colors, and they all tend to come out looking a sickly brown. Elise covers her side with an untainted red. She seems to be more into it than him as she incorporates real swirls and shapes onto their canvas.

“Am I doing this right?”

“There is no right or wrong,” she reassures. He feels her stare linger on him for a second. He is scared to look up. “Are you okay? You seem… gloomy.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. But, uh, tell me about this Joe guy.”

She looks at him suspiciously, “Why?”

“Just curious. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of him around my school is all.”

“Well probably because he graduated over a year ago.”

“So, he’s in college.”

“Yes. A freshman at Yale.”

“Yale!” He shouts loud enough for even the kids to glare at him for disturbing their fun. “Sorry,” he apologies to them.

“Would you say he’s cool,” he asks a millisecond later.

Elise tries not to laugh at his blatant desperation, “Yeah I would say so.”

“Funny?”

“He's basically Gene Wilder.”

“The dude from The Producers?!”

“Yes, and he was also a football quarterback.”

“What.”

“And valedictorian, and the heir to the Campbell Soup Company.”

“What the hell? Is this guy superman or,” Angus takes a minute to recognize the smug face on Elise. Finally, she breaks out in a loud giggle.

“Oh,” Angus sighs in relief, “You’re messing with me.”

“A little,” she says through fits of laughter. “Anyways if you’re so worried why don’t you go back up there?”

“I was just worried that he would try something. But technically he sounds alright.”

“Ah. So, you’re jealous?”

Angus rolls his eyes, “No. I’m a concerned friend.”

“I’m not sure about that. Concerned friends don’t start interrogating the girl they are on a hypothetical date with.”

She leans down to point at a glob of paint in the corner of the paper, “I think you even doodled her name.”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, going over it and trying to cover it up along with his embarrassment.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like this was going to go be framed at the MET.”

“What are you implying anyway,” he narrows his eyes.

“You’re going crazy being gone from her for two minutes. What do you think I’m implying?”

Angus slumps his shoulders and admits what had been ignoring. It's like a message in a bottle he threw into the sea, desperately trying to avoid the shore. Even when it does reach land, the cap is tightly sealed, clinging on to the bottle and doing it best to remain unread. When it does pop open and the paper is unfolded, although it might be difficult to read, the message still exists. It still exists even though time fought so hard to destroy it.

“I do think about her that way. Sometimes. Then the rational side comes out and tells me that it's human nature for a girl and guy friend to think about each other that way.”

“Well, does she know you think about her that way?”

“No. Sometimes I imagine she feels the same, but you’d have to know her to understand why I’m so confused. She’s the most thoughtful, kind, and perfect person in the world. It's hard to tell if she’s showing that side to everyone or if I’m special enough for her to give me that treatment.”

“You know Picasso also said that ‘Everything you can imagine is real’.”

“Are you Picasso's biographer?”

Without missing a beat, Elise smirks and says, “Yes.”

Angus is up the stairs without having thanking her, too fueled by adrenaline to practice basic manners. He’ll have to tell Miss Crane to pass on the memo. He’s on the hunt for you but is yanked into the house's kitchen by a mysterious hand.

“Hey?” He asks, disoriented.

Danny is staring straight at him, with both hands on either side of his shoulder.

“I need you to find Mr. Hunham,” he orders. Angus looks past the man to see Mary weeping heavily into the sink. Understanding, he nods firmly and is back out the door.

…

Joseph Leery is not half bad. He’s kind of funny, clever and not a bad person to pass the time with. You sit in the back of Miss Crane's living room on a couch all to yourselves. He tells you how he’s majoring in English in hopes of becoming a journalist.

“What kind of journalist?”

“Investigative. I would love to be the next Upton Sinclair. Or Seymour Hersch.”

“Ew! The Jungle made me so sick for a week after. It was so gross.”

“I know but that's what made it so great. Exposing the meat packing industry probably put him on a few hit lists too.”

“Oh yeah definitely. So, then who are you planning to expose?”

He laughs, “I don’t know yet. Is there any chance you’re planning on becoming some corrupt politician?”

“Not in the foreseeable future. I’ll let you know if I ever do,” you giggle.

“What are you planning to do then?”

“Then? Um... Like as president? I don’t know. Fund schools-.”

“No,” he laughs harder, “I mean like with college and life. Do you have anything planned out?”

“Erm, not really. My parents probably want me to go to the Ivy Leagues and crap. I should have a plan, I know, but I guess I’ve been putting it on the back burner.”

“Why?”

You shift in your seat. “I have this friend. He’s sort of had this rocky life, not I haven’t, and I know it's stupid to mold your entire life to fit around one person’s but for him I would.”

Joseph sniffs and straightens his posture. “Sorry. Lydia didn’t mention you having a boyfriend.”

“No, I don’t,” you stress, “I just really care for him, you know. We’ve known each other for so long. He’s important to me.”

“Y/n have you ever read Persuasion?” he asked suddenly.

“Um, not yet. I know the gist of it.”

“Well, it's ultimately about regret, right? Anne spends eight years longing for Wentworth when she could have been with him instead, had she not given into pressures. The point of the novel is not to wait to love the person you’re sure is it for you.”

“Love?” You hear someone say above you. You look up to see Angus, his arms stiff by his side. He glowers at Joseph. You jump off the seat and on operating on some strange reflex you go to fix his shirt collar that has stood up.

“What's wrong?”

“What were you guys talking about?” he interrogates.

“Books. Why?”

Angus doesn’t buy it but ignores the gnawing feeling in his gut, “Mary needs us in the kitchen. Go ahead, I still need to get Hunham.”

“Oh…Alright,” you turn and wave to your brief companion. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah maybe,” Joseph lifts his canned soda as if to say cheers.

You walk on ahead as Angus loiters behind, silently scrutinizing him.

Joseph takes a sip from his coke and points towards the direction you disappeared to. “Your girl went that way man.”

Angus rolls his eyes but leaves, nonetheless.

…

Miss Crane and Paul are sitting next to each other, their drink half-finished. They can feel the red tinge on their cheeks and themselves becoming looser.

“Are you planning anything special for tomorrow?” Lydia inquires.

“No. Why? Are you having a…”

“No, I just thought maybe you’d be doing something special for Angus and Y/n.”

Mr. Hunham shakes his head and Miss Crane lets out a small gasp, “You should! Help preserve some of the magic. Angus may be a little difficult, but he’s still just a kid. So is Y/n. And life catches up to them so fast. Them,” she stares at her lap, contemplating. “Ha. Us!”

“You’re a very sweet person, Miss Crane,” he compliments.

Miss Crane melts, “So are you, when you want to be,” she quips, “and it’s Lydia.”

He enjoys the feeling of camaraderie between them. He feels a cool breeze at the back of his neck and the sound of the door opening.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Miss Crane gets up and moves past him.

Mr. Hunham turns in time to see a man take off his coat, a gift under his arm. A moment later Miss Crane is there to receive him with a kiss. Together they walk away, and Mr. Hunham is left alone. Once again.

“Mr. Hunham, could you come with me, please?” Angus nearly trips as he stumbles over to the teacher.

“Yeah, what is it?” He sighs as he gets up with a groan.

“Come on, it's serious,” Angus leaps away. Peeking at him at the corner to see is Hunham is following, “Come on.”

Mr. Hunham is dragged into the kitchen, where he spots Mary, crying quietly to herself. Danny is next to her. You’re across the room biting your nails and hinting at Mr. Hunham to do something.

“Mary? You alright?” he questions, even though he knows it's in vain.

“Just leave me alone,” She mumbles.

“Want me to take you home?” Danny offers, placing what he thinks is a consoling hand on her back.

“Back off! Back off!” Mary whisper-shouts, her hands shaking down in anger. Mr. Hunham shuts the door, giving her privacy if nothing else.

“He’s gone,” she erupts into full on sobs. The mask comes off and she’s no longer Mary, the woman who appears to deal with grief like it was nothing but a bump on the road. Instead, it's Mary, who lost a son and whose grief has entirely consumed her until she can no longer breathe.

…

Angus and Mr. Hunham support Mary on both sides, as they make their way to the car. “I was right. This is why I hate parties. That was a disaster. Total disaster!”

“Speak for yourself. I was having a pretty profound conversation. I was about to make some serious life altering moves,” he blurts, angry and unable to believe his window opportunity was slammed shut. He had an internal plan. That'd he’d whisk you away from stupid Joseph and ask you to dance, maybe lead you to a mistletoe and see where it goes.

“With whom? The niece? Are you kidding me? This poor woman is bereft, and all you can think about is some silly girl.”

“I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”

“I’m not talking about Elise; I'm just saying this is the first good thing that came from being in this prison with you.”

“Need I remind you it’s not my fault you’re stuck here? Do you think I want to babysit you? I was praying to the God I don’t believe in that your mother would pick up the phone, or your father would arrive in a helicopter or a submarine or a flying fucking saucer to take you-.”

“My father’s dead,”

“Angus-,” he hears you say but he holds up his hand for you to stop speaking.

Mr. Hunham stops dead in his rant, “But I thought your father-.”

“That’s just some rich guy my mom married. Give me your keys,” he sticks out his hand.

“It’s unlocked.”

Furiously, Angus stomps away. You excuse yourself from the two adults before doing your damnedest to not slip on the ice. Flats at this time of the year were not your best idea.

“Angus,” you reach him, tugging at the back of his jacket so that he’ll slow down. “Why did you say that?”

“Say what?”

“The thing about your dad,” you mumble.

“The way my mom and Stanley talk about him, he might as well be don’t you think?”

“You don’t mean that,” you scold. “What happened? Are you really this mad about Elise?”

“No. Damn it. I don’t even like Elise.”

“Oh,” despite the circumstance, you can’t help but feel giddy. “Then what is it?”

“You seemed to be having a pretty good time yourself with Joe on that couch.”

“Joe?” You cross your arms. “You mean Joseph?”

“Oh great. You have a nickname for him.”

“Angus, Joseph is his legal name, that's the opposite of a nickname.”

“I don’t want to talk about Joe,” he says. You both reach the end of the block where Hunhams car is parked. In the distance you see them come closer, their feet crushing the white snow.

“You brought him up,” you massage your temple. You think back of the endless list of books you have read, or the many movies you’ve watched. You scour through the genres. You think of how Joseph managed to connect to life. You think of the rewatch of Cactus Flower with Mary. How envious Ingrid Bergman character was every time she saw Julian talk to Toni.

“Angus, were you jealous of Joseph?”

He stops his ongoing struggle with the car handle, finally prying it open.

“Were you jealous of Elise?” he asks you.

You frown and fixate on the pavement; your nails dig into your palm as your hands turn into fists. Deafening silence engulfs you before Angus exhales heavily. Before you can speak, Mr. Hunham arrives and motions for you to scooch over so he can open the passenger side for Mary.

“Sorry,” you apologize and get in the backseat.

“Straight to bed you hear me,” Mr. Hunham warns once you are all buckled in. “Enough theatrics for one day.”

“Mmhmm,” Angus responds, but all he is doing is looking at you.

[mattsunbae]

༉‧₊˚. friends to lovers with jjk men

gojo, nanami & choso

in which, you and him both know you’re not meant to be friends.

+ word c. 785

+ warnings. alcohol! oblivious reader

+ song. 4me 4me by malcolm todd

+ marcie’s note. guys pls go easy on me i haven’t written in damn near two years… also my first time writing jjk men soooo :3

satoru gojo

being friends with satoru for so long has showed you one thing - never take him seriously. keeping this in mind, imagine how flabbergasted you were when he had asked you out on a date. you thought this relationship was strictly platonic… besides like the one or two or five times you and satoru had kissed. in your defense, two of those were dares. either way, your heart was beating through your chest as the date went on at the cozy restaurant. you refused to believe this was real.

“i can tell you’re nervous.” he grinned over to you, his lips curling upward. “relax, it’s just me.” you shook your head, hating how calm he was in this moment. “exactly. i can never read you, satoru. is this a friend date or a romantic date?” you sighed. he cocked his head to this side with confusion, “i thought i made it clear that this was a romantic date? i bought you flowers and everything, pretty girl.”. you slumped down in your seat, “i couldn’t read you.” “there’s nothing to read, princess. i wanna be yours. is that clear enough?” you just blinked at him, not believing what he was saying. “you wanna be my… what exactly?” satoru let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head, “you still don’t get it?”

nanami kento

one word to describe your relationship with nanami kento would be familiar. you became friends at work and it evolved on its own. several late nights spent fighting cursed spirits and getting drinks after. it all felt like you had known him forever. and while it is true that kento isn’t the most… warm person on earth, he always made sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed when you were with him. it’d be a lie to say you hadn’t developed a bit of a crush on him. you had dropped little hints for what felt like forever (a week) to no avail, so you decided to throw in the towel. however, it seemed like nanamin had different plans.

“what i’m saying is, i think we’d be a good couple.” kento mumbled, the both of you crammed in a corner of a shoddy bar, away from the other sorcerers. “are you drunk, kento?” you felt his forehead, really wondering if he was okay. he always seemed to get a little bolder (and a lot more giggly) when he was tipsy. “i’m alright, thank you.” he let out his rare but infectious grin, “i’m just saying, we wouldn’t be a bad couple.” “kento, what are you saying right now?” your breathing got heavy as your chest fell and rose quickly. what the hell is this man talking about? “i wanna give this dating thing a try.” he blinked at me like i was supposed to just catch on. “with you, if i wasn’t clear.” “what happened to no da-“ he shook his head, “the whole no dating at work thing was just me deflecting. will you be mine, sweetheart?”

choso kamo

your relationship with choso had always been one you genuinely enjoyed. there was always a mix of playfulness and patience that made you value it even more, because it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else. however, you’re not sure if this is a recent thing or if you’re just now noticing, but he always seemed to look at you some type of way. it was the type of look where his eyes were low and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. he would always run his fingers through his hair and/or look away after getting caught. you had always taken a liking to his boyish charm, but this staring problem seemed to be getting out of hand.

“why do you keep looking at me like that, cho?” you asked, sprawled out on his couch with your head resting on his lap. his fingers played with the ends of your hair, “like what?” he asked as his eyes stared into yours, giving you that same look that drove you insane. “like that! literally how you’re looking at me right now.” his lips curled into a little smile, “i don’t know what you’re talking about, doll.” “this is gaslighting and i won’t stand for it!” you started to sit up but he gently pushed you back down onto his lap. “explain how i look at you. i wanna know.” he wrapped your hair around his finger. “you look at me like- like…” you tried to find the right words, “like you want me or something!” choso didn’t even flinch at your words, like he’d been waiting for you to say it. “would it be a problem if i did?”

thank u dearly for reading ily :p

-> back to general masterlist

© mattsunbae 2024. please refrain from copying, translating and/or modifying.

[tobifuyu]

I just want a baby with the right one

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

cw: domestic and tooth-rotting fluff, ran being a sappy dad, talks of pregnancy and marriage.

wc: 1,5k

a/n: this is the first part of a longer oneshot with more angst and (ofc) smut that I’m gonna post soon enough. enjoy the short fluff for the time being. I –technically– don’t like kids but I get such baby fever when I see happy families so this is me wishing I could have a partner as perfect as ran!

Stepping foot into a silent home usually meant Ran was asleep somewhere.

After removing your shoes and dropping your bag on the kitchen island, your hunch was confirmed to be right when you found his big body sprawled on your shared bed.

The image is nothing out of the ordinary for you, your sleepy husband can’t go much without his needed rest, especially without you around to keep him company.

Whether now, or five years prior, everything would still look the same: messy purple hair sparse against the white bedding, rosy lips parted as he takes deep breaths, and tattooed chest going up and down as he does.

There is only one stark difference, something that makes your lips curl in a soft smile as you take in the scene.

His arms are bent, creating a makeshift safety harness for the little body that is resting in the middle of his naked chest.

As you carefully and silently approach the bed, you start glimpsing the little face of the angel that your husband is embracing.

Her rosy cheeks resemble that of her father, and you fight the urge to grace them with a kiss in fear of waking her up.

For a moment, you think back to the phone in your purse and curse yourself for not taking it out sooner, wanting to take a picture of the sweet moment, but in the end deciding against going all the way to the kitchen just to come back to either of them having moved.

Ran blinks at you as the mattress dips under your weight. You gather he was just resting his eyes, clever and responsible enough not to fall asleep while holding his newborn daughter.

He raises one finger to his lips to gesture at you to remain silent, but you can’t contain your giggle as you’re filled with a bubbling sense of joy. Part of it is to be blamed on the few drinks you had catching up with your friends, but mostly it has grown inside of you while watching Ran gently rub your daughter’s back.

He rolls his eyes but can’t hide a grin at your behavior, and you bend down to kiss it away with a quick but sweet peck, “Thank you for looking after her.”

“You don’t have to thank me for being with my daughter. I’m her dad y’know?”

“‘course I know, baby. I was there when we made her,” another giggle, Ran has to fight the urge to shut you up with loads of kisses, but you both know he can’t move too much in this position.

So you lay by his side, head resting on his shoulder as you cast your glance towards the sleeping baby.

You can feel your heart clenching, every moment you’re not by her side is like torture. You enjoyed going out alone for once, but you missed the two of them like crazy and spent the whole night pestering your friends about it.

“Can’t believe she’s turning one month old tomorrow,” you whisper, hand raised to gently stroke at her scrunched-up forehead.

“Time goes by so fast,” the breath Ran takes fills his lungs so much you see your little one raising up and down.

“It’s okay, baby, one month is not the end of the world.” You’re trying to rationalize it for the sake of both of you, but you know how emotional your husband gets with these types of things.

The passing of time has never been something he particularly enjoys, not only dreading his getting older but also his brother’s. You recall watching him mop around the day before every single one of Rindou’s birthdays (he raised the boy, after all). So you already knew things would only get worse when it came to his own kid.

“Next thing you know she’s gonna turn twenty and walk out of the house with a partner who probably has one of those dumb jobs like influencers.”

“Hate the game, not the player. You’re a club owner, you literally make money off of ‘em.” You bop his nose with the tip of your finger and his neck muscles strain as he raises his head from the pillow while trying to bite at it.

“That’s why I’m saying it’s stupid,” he pouts. You swear, he’s become such a dad.

But you remember how scared he was when you first found out you were pregnant. You both were.

You didn’t plan for kids. Yeah, Ran had always dreamed of building a family of his own, but he had agreed with you that if you never felt ready, it would be okay.

The two of you were a family already, with Rindou popping by from time to time, and plans of getting a dog if you ever felt like shaking things up.

You were doing okay. Then it happened.

Both of you had always been so careful, so you reasoned that it was just meant to be.

Ran was scared of becoming a dad. He spent his early life taking care of Rindou, and he was fulfilled enough to just enjoy his adult years being with his wife. Traveling, clubbing, lazing in bed. The two of you only cared for one another and it was more than he thought he would ever get in life.

Ran’s pure excitement took over his fear pretty quickly, but he held it in for some time because he could tell how much more shaken up you were by the news.

You were not ready to become a mother, you didn’t think you had it in you. You could barely take care of yourself, how would you help in raising a baby? And it’s not like you could leave the job to Ran, he already had to deal with it alone once, you wouldn’t do such a thing to him again.

It took you some days to make your decision and come to peace with it, days where you closed up to Ran and laid alone in bed, thinking about how your body would change, how much pain you would have to endure, all the sacrifices and scary aspects of pregnancy and ultimately raising a human life.

Ran had come back from work one day and found you in the kitchen baking a cake, or rather trying to. Your cheeks were dusted with flour, and you were dipping a finger in the bowl filled with custard.

“Taste test?” He had asked with a raised brow while removing his coat and shoes at the door.

“Mh, I think our baby likes this one.”

“Do they now? Are you already blaming them for your cravings?” With lips curved in a smile, he had approached you slowly, holding out his arms as you sank into them, head resting on his jacket-covered shoulder.

“I was trying to bake a cake to celebrate our pregnancy. ‘m sorry it took me so long, Ran. I want this baby with you.”

Ran had held you a little tighter at that, softly stroking down the length of your hair while whispering reassuring promises in your ears, tears now wetting both of your faces.

“It’s gonna be okay, my love. As long as we’re together, everything is gonna be alright.”

“As long as we’re with her, everything is gonna be alright.” You repeat his words from then, staring up at his lilac eyes from under your lashes.

He’s already gazing down at you with a look that you know well by now, one that is filled with love and longing. No matter how close you are, Ran always seems to want you even closer.

“I love you, my sweet girl. I love both of you so much. I’m never leaving you, I promise.” He slithers one of his hands under your body, holding the back of your shoulder to keep you pressed against his side, all while softly caressing the skin, copying the movement he was drawing on the smaller back of your sleepy daughter, “Swear on my life.”

A short kiss is left on his collarbone by your lips before you bend down to sweetly press them on top of your daughter’s small head of light hair.

“Now tell me you love us too!” Ran whines and presses the side of his face against yours, squishing your cheeks together as little giggles shake both of your bodies. All the attempts at silencing him are worthless, and you’re forced to give in to his pleading as he starts tickling your side.

“Ran, I love you, baby! And I love our babygirl. I promise, you guys are my whole life.”

All that commotion must’ve finally woken up the tiny girl because the silent room is now filled with laughter and the cries of a baby that would’ve once annoyed you, but now sound like music to your ears.

In that moment you realize that your words aren’t just mindless and sweet-coated, a life without either one of them truly wouldn’t be worth living. And you decide to not give up your family for anything in the world.

[metalomagnetic]

I feel like I’m always harassing you with my asks (sorry!!), but bouncing off of my previous request for Black lore- what are the Blacks (that we know) like ✨in bed✨? What are they into?

I spent way too long thinking of this!

We'll start with Sirius the Grandpa Black. I have a feeling he was wild in bed, like he was wild in everything. Curiously, I spoke with a friend about this just the past week, and I said 'he made his wife very happy in bed, and exasperated outside of it'. He was a leg man- he loved long, shapely legs on a woman. In his time-period, no one could see a woman's legs, all hidden by long skirts, but he had a way of guessing beforehand lol.

Arcturus- funnily enough, in the new chapter I am writing, Sirius jokes that Arcturus probably only had sex twice in his life, because he cannot see his strict grandfather as a sexual being. And while he certainly had sex more than twice, I think he was pretty standard in bed, nothing crazy, just plain old missionary style. He was a virgin when he married and never cheated on his wife, even after she died, had no desire for anyone other than her.

Pollux and Irma (in my story she's also a Black, half, on her mother's side) have the same dynamic in bed they have in real life. Irma really likes dominating him, and in bed, he actually enjoys it.

Cygnus has a pregnancy kink 😂 That aside, poor man hadn't had much sex since his wife fell into a deep depression.

Alphard was into nerdy, quiet men with a hint of a wild side (he once had a brief crush on Tom Riddle, of course). He was a very generous partner, in bed and outside of it. His last partner, whom he'd been with on and off for like two decades, and actually lived with for the last five years of his life, almost made an appearance in Canis Major, but I had to let the scene go. Alphard left what remained of his wealth to Sirius, but he left his beautiful home to his partner, who was disowned by his family when he moved in with Alphard.

Orion, like the hypocrite he is, likes wilful, stubborn women that defy social convention. The surest way to attract his attention was to 'behave atrociously' (as he would call it) in public. He's twisted, and he enjoys pursing strong women, only to dominate them when he gets them. As soon as he 'tames' them, he loses interest in them. He's very good in bed, very open minded unlike in every other aspect of his life. No one ever left Orion's bed unsatisfied.

Orion needs intimacy- he never had a simple one night stand. Even with his briefest affairs, he still took the time to know them first, and never jumped in bed at the first opportunity, nor was he one to feel attraction for a woman just based on her looks. I think he liked 'the hunt' most of all.

That aside, if his marriage hadn't broken apart, he'd have never cheated on Walburga. Before everything went to hell, for the first ten years of their marriage, he didn't even think of other women, was 1000000% satisfied with his wife. Even after it all went down the drain, during the years, whenever Walburga gave the briefest sign she wants him back in her bed, he'd abandon whoever he was with and come *running* back home, eating up whatever scrap of affection he could get from her.

Walburga was basically into everything Orion suggested, and she had a few suggestions of her own (learned from those erotica and sometimes straight up smut novels that she loves and were mentioned very briefly in It runs) that she wanted to try out. She loves dangerous men (that's why we see her reading books with a naked, fanged vampire on the cover). I'm certain she made Orion pretend he was a vampire at least once 😂 She also had a slight exhibitionism streak when she was younger and they lived in Egypt, which put Orion on edge (but also secretly delighted him). They weren't even having full on sex back then (Orion insisted they wait until marriage) but she found ways to rile him up and play with him and drive him mad until they finally retuned to England and got married.

Bellatrix is creative and she always chases a thrill, and her sex life is fabulous. Rabastan, poor dear, had seen and heard things in that Manor that either give him nightmares, either inappropriate dreams staring his sister in law and his brother. Sometimes, Bellatrix likes duels as foreplay, so she and Rodolphus destroy parts of the Manor and then fuck in the middle of the damage. Of course, they also have calmer sex, an entire day of lazying in bed with Rodolphus, filled with gentle love-making. But when they're feeling more wild and duels come into play, whoever wins gets to dictate the encounter.

No one knows what Narcissa likes in bed, only Lucius, and it took him like a few years to find out. So whatever happens in bedrooms in Malfoy Manor, shall remain between them.

Andromeda takes after her grandmother Irma, both in bed and out of it. Ted is her boy toy. He does whatever she asks, and they both enjoy it a lot.

Regulus, the little repressed freak, once he finally gets to have sex, he lets loose, and then he feels guilty for it, because he considers whatever he did as something beneath a man of his station. Orion should have really paid more attention to him, but he was also very young when Orion died, so they didn't get to have fun sex talk like Sirius got. He's so allergic to feelings and affection, he enjoys impersonal sex the most. Regulus only knows to accept love and give it back with his mother and his brother, no one else.

Sirius is- well, we know Sirius. Because of the way he was raised and all the shit he got from his mother about liking boys, he does have certain unhealthy behaviours. He adheres to the strict gender roles when it comes to sex, so when he's with a woman, he must always be in charge. That doesn't mean he isn't adventurous, but only as long as he has control. Even when he first gets with Voldemort, he unconsciously puts Voldemort in the 'woman's role' in his head. It takes a while for him to get comfortable, and he's lucky Voldemort is a very patient dude. Obviously, after that happens, we can see Sirius definitely has some sort of Daddy kink. Not that he'd think of it like that, nor would the word 'daddy' ever be uttered while he has sex with Voldemort, but he enjoys being taken care of by an older, powerful man. He also has a big praise kink, so there's that.

He's into different things in bed, depending if he's with a man or a woman. And while he did have plenty of mindless one night stands, I think he is most satisfied when he has a deep connection with his partner. He's desperate for affection, for a true connection, even if he was also afraid of having a bond like that. It's why he tried to distance himself from Marlene, even if he wanted her, because he was simply afraid of growing too close.

You never harass me with questions! I love the questions, especially because they make me think of my lovely Blacks and their mysterious lives. ❤️

[riemoi]

Twisted wonderland Royalty Au

Sorry it took me forever but it SavannaClaw time. YAY!! also the spelling and punctuation are bad.

Tw: yandere, cringey, Ooc

reader has no gender.

SavannaClaw Characters, Heartslabyul characters

Summary- You are royalty of a nation that each year holds a festival for all to come and enjoy. Guests are starting to arrive, So It makes sense that the neighboring kingdoms are the first ones.

Relationship with the kingdom — Your two kingdoms were always at each other’s throats. It also didn’t help that your parents had a petty rivalry with the king and queen. In fact it wasn’t until the first prince took over that it started to get better. So despite them being your neighbors it’s they’re first time being here for the festival. Fun fact! Sometimes the king and queen of the savanna will visit just to debate something with your parents. For some reason, Their kids came along too.

Leona Kingscholar --- Prince

You met Leona one day when the king and queen visited for their routine argument with your parents. You were in the garden making flower crowns when a boy sat down next to you doing the same thing. You knew he was the second prince and probably ran away from the “debate” just like you. That day started a friendship between you guys and the two of you would play together any chance you got. So imagine your excitement when your prince friend was finally visiting for the festival! It was just the princes and some workers coming because the current king is bedridden. He of course was probably more excited to see you than you were! Why wouldn’t he be, you’re the only person that didn’t care about his brother instead caring for him. He was your first choice. Not his brother. That was one of the reasons he loved you! You would think he would visit more often if he loved you right? Well he was always scared too, for some reason Leona thought you stopped loving him and didn’t want to see him. Why did he think this? Well you see, trying to fix your two kingdoms relationships. Falena was going to your kingdom a lot which means he was seeing you and knowing his brother, you two were probably getting along swimmingly. Imagining you forgot about him and chose Falena, gave him nightmares!(He Dulu.)But all those thoughts disappeared when you happily skipped his brother and greeted him. Oh so you do still love me, *Yawn* So I was just being an overthinking dumbass. *Hahaha!* Wait… where are you going? Ruggie. Why are you talking to him? I’m right here. I’m all you need. So why are you talking to that gross mutt?

Ruggie Bucchi --- Worker for Leona

You never thought you would see him here with Leona and Falena. You would see him around almost everywhere you went, doing odd jobs.You don’t know him very well. Hell you don’t even know his name.  He always waved at you when you walked by him like you were an old friend tho. After a short while of being confused as to why he was in your house as you weren’t informed of him coming for another job, you learn he’s working for Prince Leona. Perhaps another quick cash grab. You weren’t that happy though. Because he treats you like he’s known you for as long as he lived. So he kind of weirded you out. Wow! Do I really have to remind you? That just because you don’t know someone doesn’t mean they don’t know you. Ruggie, well, he feels like he’s known you for all the years he’s been suffering on this earth. He was always doing jobs around the castle, to make some money. Ruggie remembers it all. At the age of Five he memorized your favorite things. Ages Seven - Nine, he learned royal etiquette from the maids.(After he forced them too.) Ten - Fourteen, Ruggie spent learning about you and royal stuff. Right now, he’s working for Leona but that’s all part of his plan to get closer to you. Why? You may ask. Well the first reason clearly is because he loves you. Second is when he marries you silly! He can't let himself be an embarrassment to you. What if he makes a mistake in public being your husband that mistake would also be put on you. He can’t let himself tarnish your reputation as the perfect person you are. Ruggie’s happy that you love him enough to come welcome him back! He gets to talk to you, yay! Huh? Are you introducing yourself to that knight? You guys barely talked. Why are you moving on? Hey, I didn’t even get to tell you my name yet! Honey. Come on. You already make me feel lonely. Do you really need to make me jealous too?

Jack How --- Knight

You just met him. When you first glanced in his direction you were rightfully shocked. I mean even for a  typical knight this man was buff. (Like sir, calm down on the working out pls.) you were hesitant about  introducing yourself. Wishing to make this quick and praying he wasn’t one of those gym whores who live off of protein powder and riding rich men’s cocks. You had to deal with some knights like that before and it was hell. So to ur surprise and delight. He stuttered when Introducing himself. It was honestly kind of cute how he was stuttering while trying to do an introduction. You did find it a little weird as to why he was here as your family had enough knights to protect the kingdom’s princes. Until in Jack's introduction (When he finally got his act together.) he mentioned that being here was part of his training. Just when you were about to say something Trey called you over to the dining room for lunch. After you say goodbye and the other people go do their other own things, Jack could finally breathe. Why’d he have to stutter? It was so humiliating! Out of all people it had to be you. His idol. From a young age Jack looked up to you. You were about the same age as him but so much better. Be it academics, looks, or anything else it seemed.You were better. Even status. Jack was always one step behind you. Admiring from afar. He hated you as much as he loved you! You should have seen his face when he first found out he’ll get to see you as part of his training plan. But man! Was he not expecting you to be so gracious as to talk to him? God. Were you trying to make him die? I mean he wouldn’t mind doing that if it means you’ll spare him another glance. He plans on becoming a knight fit for protecting you so much so that during his time here you were constantly being jumped scared by this man because of his “duty to be your knight”

[artsyjedi]

They see each other again | Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: after a good amount of time, you and Charles meet again.

author’s note: speed written this one and i actually liked it (surprisingly enough) so i hope you do it too <3 i didn’t proof read this very well so sorry if there’s any mistakes. I was kinda thinking about making a series about this couple? Tell me if you’re interested!!

warnings: it can be a little angst? per usual (sorry)

**it can be read as a 2nd part of ‘They don’t stay together at the end’ or alone.

5 years ago, you met Charles Leclerc. And since, you never forgot him - and life was committed to not let that happen in any way; and you tried. You truly tried to not remember those days you spent together as often as you do, to not smile whenever you hear someone say his name.

God, sometimes, while on dates or just talking with random strangers you met during a night out, you caught yourself comparing them to Charles.

5 years. It's been five years since Charles Leclerc ruined everyone else for you.

And he’s standing right there, on the same spot you saw him for the first time. He’s just a few meters from where you are with your friends. The cafe looks and smells the same. It feels like you traveled in time. You’re facing his back, and you’re a hundred percent sure it’s Charles because he’s the only one who thinks that horrendous stained pants look good.

Also, he’s the only one that somewhat looks good on it.

“Now that’s insane” your friend laughs realizing what is going on.

“Shut up! He can’t see me. Go!” you pushed them slightly towards the cabin where the other two were already seated.

“And why not?” she kept smiling, glancing towards Charles now and then before seating.

She started to take off their coat and you did the same, trying your best to not catch anyone’s attention.

“Because I’m sure he doesn’t remember me”

“And why do you think that?” the friend sat next to you arched their eyebrows.

“Because it’s been five years?” you asked as if it was obvious.

“Well, you remember him”

“Yeah but I’m still in love with him, of course I remember. And also: we are not the same people we were years ago”

You glanced at Charles, he was still at the balcony, talking freely with the employees while waiting for his order. He had a few people accompanying him and a phone in his hand. Your heart was beating fast, part of you wanting him to see you, to come and say hi, to sweep you off your feet again. You knowing he was single was doing no good for your mind.

“When we were drunk at Silvia’s house, you cried telling me you wished you’d meet him again in this life or in another one. Remember?”

“No, I do not” lies. You clearly remember.

“It was right after you called yourself dumb for not going to Monaco with him” your other friend provoked, winning a congratulatory small punch from the other one who sat beside them.

“Whatever, what’s your point?”

“My point is that if you’re both not the same as years ago, it’s practically another life” she shrugged, getting up and slapping your shoulder “Now move, I need to get to the bathroom”

You got up quietly, still trying not to catch anyone’s attention. You sat again, now stealing their place in the cabin; it was safer.

To say you were freaking out was an understatement. Your friends were having the time of their life, giggling and making jokes. You knew you were over reacting a little, but your friends failed to understand that Charles Leclerc was the Charles Leclerc. The Ferrari driver. The unofficial Prince of Monaco. You laugh at yourself with the thought.

Your friend came back talking about something random, completely stealing your attention.

You only relaxed when he left. You felt a heavy weight on your stomach during the whole time; another opportunity lost for fear of rejection. Fear of being hanging in a feeling only you had. Charles had girlfriends during this meantime, lots of rumors too. He was living while you were barely making it. Did he also have a shiver going down his spine whenever he saw someone that resembles you like you do? No. You’re sure he doesn’t. Why would he?

When you got to your apartment, still laughing from a silly joke your friends made before leaving you, the best thought occurred: the night called for a glass of wine and a good movie. You deserve a little solitude. Rain started to hit the window, setting the mood. Perfect.

If your afternoon has been a complete chaos, your night is going great.

You were about to sit on your couch, under the new covers you bought, when a knock on the door stopped you. Frowning, you wondered who it could be; usually, the doorman announces but not this time? One of your neighbors, maybe? You prayed it wasn’t the old lady from next door who loves to rent free your ear for her non-stop complaining.

“Who is it?” You asked, leaving the cup on the coffee table.

“Hi, I know this is weird but your friend told me you have a room to rent?”

The known thick accent made your legs quiver. Fuck. Your eyes widened, mind going miles per hour, I can’t believe this is happening! Shit.

You unlocked the door, opening slightly and leaning onto it. “Hi”

“Hi,” he replied. “Remember me?”

Your heart was beating so fast. The feelings you had started to flood your eyes. You couldn’t contain a smile. He was truly asking if you remember him?

“Maybe” you shrugged, winning a laugh from him. You opened the door enough to give him space to go in. Charles swallowed dry, hands rubbing his pants in a nervous movement. “So… looking for a room to rent, huh?”

“Tried to be funny and failed, I guess”

“Please sit” you pointed towards the sofa. “Wine?”

“No, thanks”

You nodded and got your glass, following his steps and sitting on the other end, facing him. You leaned your head in your hand, supporting your elbow on the back of the couch.

“How did you find my address?”

“Your friend”

Like a movie, a flashback ran through your mind. Of course they hadn’t gone to the bathroom when they said they were, and that’s why they were giggling and joking about you and Charles during the whole day.

Even though you knew you would kill them next morning? you were also thankful.

“These pants are horrible” it came out before you couldn’t even register what you said.

“What?” he frowned in surprise, leaning closer. You two laughed at his offended face.

“I’m sorry, I was thinking and just… anyway” you scratched the back of your head. That was going just great.

“God, I truly missed you” he told you in between giggles, leaning even closer and reaching for the hand you had supported your head and bringing your wrist for him to kiss.

“I missed you too” you intertwined your fingers and brought his hand close to your face, feeling his warmth. You leaned on it, kissing it right after.

You kept staring at each other. Silence was loud. Louder than any song or any crowd you already heard. No words needed to be said. The rain was hitting harder on the window and the city outside started to get quieter. Charles Leclerc. How did you survive all these years without having him there?

[gothgleek]

Spiderman!Spencer x Seamstress!Fem!Reader

Spencer finds out he’s got super powers and he’s got the brain, powers, and abilities to become a superhero. Now all he needs is a costume. That’s where you come in.

Outline for a Spiderman!Spencer fic I’m writing based this post by @reidcoffeemoon. Let me know if anyone would actually be interested in reading a full version of it. Also please like and reblog, it’s my birthday today💕💕💕

•The two of you met at a Halloween party thrown by Penelope. You are a seamstress and whenever someone complimented your costume, you would proudly ramble about of the type of fabric you used.

•Spencer was the only one who actually listened and responded with his own facts about the fabric’s history.

•You gasped and smiled, raising your left hand to your chest. “You are my new favorite person.” You declared.

•While talking, you both found out you’re from Vegas. You worked as a seamstress for a burlesque show off the strip and did cosplay part time while he was off at learning Caltech. The two of you bond over a restaurant that shut down five years ago.

•Now in DC, you worked as a seamstress for the local theater and managed a thrift store by the university he works at. Cosplay makes up most of your income but you dream of creating a lingerie line.

•The two of you agree to meet up for coffee but before that happens, Spencer gets bitten by a spider.

• Was he was bitten by a spider while investigating an unsub who killed his victims spider venoms or did he wander into the wrong room while touring a science facility?

•Derek convinces him to try out being a superhero. Derek is part of a secret superhero group (The Avengers) and would like his friend to join (once he knows Spencer can handle superhero work).

•Spencer calls you a few weeks later. “Hey, um, I wanted your opinion on something. What kind of materials do you recommend for a sort of… workout costume?”

•Thankfully, you’ve been asked weirder questions throughout your career so it didn’t even phase you.

•You respond in a rambling style that would’ve confused other people, but not Spencer.

•”They’ve actually done some test work on using spider webs for body armor but the tests didn’t yield the best results but I think…”

•He listened to you talk while he designed a web slinging contraption for his wrists, occasionally throwing in a comment or two.

•He visits your thrift store a few days later to discuss his little project a little more.

•When it becomes apparent his skills aren’t as advanced as yours, you offer your services and schedule him to come to your place over the weekend.

•It’s purely friendly… but you can’t help but if some less than platonic thoughts come up while looking at certain measurements.

•Those less than platonic feelings did make you blind to some of his questions.

But if anyone asked you would say you’ve had weirder requests.

•“Would it be possible to make it bullet proof? And um… do you know how to make the fingers more um… thin but not thin?”

•The two of you kept meeting up to discuss his costume and sometimes even other things.

You never met anyone who made Russian lit or etymology sound so exciting before.

•But all things come to an end and once his costume is done you don’t see him for another few weeks. It sucks but life goes on.

You ignore the hurt in your stomach when he doesn’t respond to your text about asking about the foreign film fest at the local theater.

•Then, one night after work, you find yourself being on the wrong end of a gun by a mugger.

•Before you can handover your wallet however, a dark figure jumps down and when you open your eyes, the mugger is stuck to the wall with a sort of strange white substance.

•The figure pulls you to the top of the roof and you can finally get a good look at him.

•Spandex that shined in the same weaving pattern as the combination of rayon and viscose? Hands that were 7.49 inches long and 3.60 inches wide? The mask you spent the last two weeks creating?

•You squinted at him.

•“Spencer?!?”

•One long conversation in Spencer’s apartment later, and you’re telling him to come back so you can modify his suit to actually be made for crime fighting.

[lost-girl-2021]

Adopted Spider AU Idea

Okay so I had this idea for a avatar AU, where Spider is raised/adopted by the Sully’s from a young age and they don’t tell him Quaritch is his father. As far as he knows, his mom was a pilot on the Na’vi’s side and died during the battle. They didn’t really want to lie to him, but when Kiri gets to go see her birth mom, he wants to see his too, assuming she’s in a pod or something like Grace is. He’s already just so sad when they tell him he can’t visit his mom, because she’s not anywhere anymore, that they can’t bring themselves to break his heart and make him feel any more like the alien he is. So, they paint Paz as a brave warrior and keep it vague enough that they won’t get caught in any lies. And that was enough for (maybe five to eight year old) Spider. Besides, he loves his mama (Neytiri) and papa (Jake) and all of his siblings. Even before he was old enough to fit into a mask, they would visit him constantly and teach him about the woods and their home. When he was around seven or eight and old enough to go outside, he was instantly welcomed into his family’s home and never spent a night alone again.

(Also, in this, I’m aging Spider down to twelve, Neteyam is sixteen, Kiri and Lo’ak are fifteen, Tuk is eight. So, Spider’s the youngest Big Kid and his siblings are protective of him not only because he’s human and tiny, but because he’s also younger. I think to do this logically, it’d have to be a situation where Na’vi kids age faster than human kids, like maybe there ages start to even out/slow around puberty or something. Idk, haven’t super thought it out.)

Anyways, the rest of the movie stuff still happens. Except, it’s Kiri, Lo’ak, and Spider (Tuk is at home, silence bought with the promise of bringing her back fruit or something cool). When Lo’ak calls in about the Avatars, Neytiri flips, because she knows her children are all capable and strong and skilled, but those are her babies. And Spider— the boy who never remembers his spare mask and is always finding something death-defying to try? She thinks she’ll have the Na’vi equivalent of a heart attack.

So, they’re trying to head back home, get attacked and when Quaritch approaches Spider, Lo’ak and Kiri go crazy screaming at him to get away from their brother. And Lo’ak also recognizes Quaritch as the somehow reanimated murderer who was also Spider’s birth father. He’d overheard a conversation, years before, between his parents and Neteyam. His parents had explained it to the oldest and Lo’ak had accidentally found out as well. He ended up sneaking into the lab shack and finding a picture of the man (and his file). So, when Quaritch asks for Spider’s name, Lo’ak flips.

“Don’t tell him! Don’t say a word!” Lo’ak screeched from a few feet away.

The Avatar didn’t even glance his brother’s way. “I asked you a question, boy. What’s your name?”

Spider glanced at his siblings, heart racing. “Spider. . . Socorro.”

“His name is Spider Sully, he is my family!” Lo’ak hissed in English this time. “He is not yours!”

“Miles?” The man kneeled in front of him, looking at him strangely.

Miles. Miles. Miles. When was the last time he’d heard that name?

“Nobody calls me that.” It came out a near-whisper and he looked towards his brother. “Why does he know my name?”

“Don’t believe anything he says! He’s a ghost! A demon! He’s a liar!” Lo’ak screamed back, before one of the Avatars covered his mouth.

A little ways away, Kiri looked just as confused, still fighting against her captor as she tried to lean his way. Spider risked turning his gaze back to the man in front of him. He looked . . . weird. Emotional.

“I thought they’d send you back to Earth.”

“You can’t put babies in cryo.” He said as bravely as he could manage. “Why do you care, dipshit?”

The man’s brow furrowed as he settled a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Because, I’m your father.”

Spider reared back, breath catching loudly inside his mask. He looked over the large man’s arm, meeting his older brother’s wide-eyes.

“Lo’ak?”

“He lies!” The boy hissed, thrashing harder, two Avatars pinning him down this time.

“I’m telling the truth, Miles.”

“Don’t call me that.” It came out as a whisper. “My— my name is Spider.”

Quaritch gave him a curious look, letting him go and standing up once more. He turned away from the boy as another Avatar grabbed him, pressing two fingers to the communicator around his neck and calling out some code talk Spider didn’t have the capacity to process anymore.

He glanced down at the pack strapped to his loincloth, double-checking that the light hadn’t started blinking. Everything was working correctly, the seal had been done right when he’d left that morning. His parents always insisted on checking his mask when he put it back on after morning meal. His spare was strapped to his brother’s waist, Lo’ak learning long ago that Spider couldn’t be trusted to remember something so important. Spider had visited the shack the day before with the others to visit Grace and Max had replaced his mask and battery before they left. He should be fine.

But, it was kind of hard to breathe. And it was getting harder to focus. He sucked in a breath, looking over at his sister. She looked just as lost as him, yellow eyes locked onto him. She whispered to him, words reaching him from across the semi-circle.

“Be calm, little brother. Be calm.”

He forced himself to breathe in once more.

__

By the time Spider felt somewhat normal again, it’d been almost a half hour. Just . . . standing. Waiting. Spider wondered where their parents were. Spider and Lo’ak were five feet away from each other, but it felt like twenty. Both had guards on them, but they whispered as softly as they could while still being able to hear each other.

“Why does he know who I am? Is he really my . . . ” Spider asked, glancing towards the large Avatar called Quaritch.

“He’s not.” Lo’ak insisted. “You don’t have a father, like Kiri. We just have Dad. That demon is going to lie and try to trick you— he’s a monster, Spi. Don’t let him get inside your head. If he talks to you, don’t— “

A short whistle made Lo’ak stop speaking. All three of the Sully kids turned their heads South. Another call sounded. Mama.

Instead of Spider getting left behind, Quaritch flat-out yoinks Spider up onto his shoulder and hides him, cuffing him to a branch or him or something. And the chopper is arriving to pick them up, so he’s out of there first with Spider and—

Spider thrashed, mask fogging from tears and heavy breathing. He looked down, eyes meeting with his mom’s.

“Mama! Mama, please!” He screamed, trying to get away, to reach towards her.

He could see that she was crying too, climbing a tree like she could go high enough to grab him. He could see his dad, looking up at him, looking so angry. Angry at Spider? Angry that he was weak enough to get caught? Spider clawed at the monster— Quaritch, they’d called him. The man just tightened his grip. Spider didn’t care if he fell, didn’t care if he ended up tumbling towards the ground. His dad— his real dad would catch him. The year before, when Neteyam first got his Ikran, he’d taken Spider for a ride. Spider had fallen, goofing off in a way that a new rider couldn’t handle. He’d been caught by his dad before he could even have time to scream. Dad always caught Spider. Every time he fell from a tree or tripped over a root— dad was always there. Because, Spider was too weak. Spider was too human.

The whole thing ended up super long, so part two will be up later.

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 3

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: a bit of fluff, a bit of angst

— WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

— TAGLIST: @littletealight @skarathewitch @myrachondria @mrimperio @ssnapsaurus @tarotwitchy-main

After only a few days, it was easy to make her forget all about wanting to leave. The sun woke her up with its warm rays, and they had breakfast together in the rose garden, and food apparated before them — all of it cooked to perfection by the house elves — and then they spent hours and hours all day, in rebellious freedom, like it was the best weekend at Hogwarts… Even Ominis could tell she hadn’t been happier in years.

She delighted in the library as well, the second largest room in the mansion after the dungeon, and spent every evening there for the first five days.

“You never told me your family had a first edition copy of Magick Moste Evile!”

“We also have a copy of a manuscript on poisons by Hereward, the author’s son. I’m sure it’s somewhere around here...”

“How did your family acquire all of this, Ominis?”

“You don’t want to know,” he grinned.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

“To be fair, most of it is inherited from past generations of Gaunts. Our family went through a period of obsessive academic interests.”

“Now that you’re in charge, those days might come again,” she said with a cheeky smile.

“Who’s to say I’m in charge?”

“You can be subtle about it all you want,” she said as she turned a page, causing the book to moan and shiver. “But it’s clear something nefarious happened to your parents. Your sister and brother too…”

“My brother, in fact, is still in London.”

“Plan to take care of that, do you?”

Ominis bit his lip and said nothing, but kept walking along the shelves while his guest sat reading at the large oak wood desk in the far back of the room. He couldn’t guess whether she approved of his actions, and perhaps it helped her conscience not to even know what they were. He comforted himself with the thought that she seemed to have approved of what Sebastian did well enough — so she could very well show him the same courtesy.

“I’m curious,” he said, trying his luck, “what do you think happened to my family?”

He heard her turn another page, browsing through the curses.

“With such a library at your disposal, anything could have happened to them,” she said with a smile.

Ominis stopped, his back to her, and brushed some dust off the thick spine of a herbology almanac from 1664. She sounded… indifferent, even tacitly approving.

“I should have expected you to be tranquil about such topics,” he grinned. “They never bothered you before…”

“If you mean Sebastian —”

“Now why would you bring that up?”

“That is what happened, isn’t it?” she said, sounding a bit triumphant. She slammed the book shut, and it screamed. “Ominis!”

“What?” he said, turning around, his face serene. She definitely sounded excited, although whether it was in anger or joy, he couldn’t tell. He faced her impassively, although in his chest his heart was pounding.

“Are you responsible?”

His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. With his hands clasped together behind his back, wand held loosely in his right one, he felt his back straighten.

“What if I were?” he asked. “Would you mind?”

“N-no,” she said at length, her voice softening after the initial outburst. “I… I would understand.”

“Would you?”

He heard her leave the desk, stepping around the heavy old chair and cautiously approach him. Her little heels rang loudly in the library. He was surprised to feel her gentle grip on his elbow, but he stayed still.

“You never knew how much I wished I could help you whenever you were away for the summer… Steal you away, protect you.”

A muscle twitched in his eye at that. “I didn’t need protecting.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “Your problem required more drastic solutions, correct?”

Ominis tried not to smile. Whatever his fears were, her reaction did not substantiate them, and gradually he felt his heart settle, his blood cool, and his arm loosened in hers. She pulled it closer to hold his hand.

“Still,” said Ominis, “I appreciate the sentiment…”

“I won’t ask you what happened,” she said. “You will tell me if you wish to, and if that happens to be never, then —”

“It won’t be never. It might just take… some time.”

“Whatever happened, though — whatever happened — know that I will never judge you.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, “so you won’t hold me to a higher standard than Sebastian, then? That’s a relief.”

“It doesn’t suit you to be jealous.”

“Who says I’m jealous?”

He didn’t hear a thing, but he could feel the incredulous squinting of her eyes.

“Alright,” she said. “Come on, let’s have dinner.”

She squeezed his fingers once before letting go and stepping back toward the desk.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I mean to take it upstairs with me — that is, if you don’t mind. I promise I won’t misplace it.”

“You’re using Magick Moste Evile as a bedtime read?”

“Yes, I am. And you should, too,” she smiled. “Never know when you need it.”

The air between them changed following that conversation. After nearly a week spent wondering how she felt about him, how she’d really feel if she knew what he had done, for Ominis, it was like letting out a breath that he had held all that time.

He smiled more, laughed more, spent more time alone leaving her to wander freely through the grounds, but also spent more time with her. They began a habit of reading together in the greenhouse, more of a conservatory where all manner of plants were arranged with no particular thought or care. They retreated there after lunch with a cup of tea — green for her, white for him — and that’s where they did most of their reading. She recommended him books on dark magic as she finished them, or named favourites she knew from Hogwarts when she spotted them in his library, and pointed out what she knew he might like.

They frequently stopped to discuss things, arguing between good and evil, between fairness and pragmatism, between glory and destiny, reaching no particular conclusions — but then, that wasn’t the point. Slowly, Ominis could feel himself catching up to how he might have been were it not for his family, and the distaste for the dark arts that grew in him because of them. He went through this rediscovery of himself slowly, anxiously, but guided by her hand.

One evening, in the mid of August roughly one month after he had killed his parents, a late summer storm washed over them. She could see the dark clouds nearing after lunch, and in less than one hour they were upon them. It was quite an experience to sit in the conservatory when the rain began to splash on the glass, to hear the whipping of the wind, and feel in the frail encasing the pressure of the air outside. Within their little enclosure, still warm and fragrant with tea, they felt like they were in another world.

“Oh I wish you could see how the water pours down the roof,” she told him as she held his hand. “It looks like a little waterfall.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” he chuckled. “I think I can hear it. It’s like a leaky faucet.”

“And the sky outside is dark, almost like it’s nighttime.”

“Yes, I can feel how much colder it is.”

“Do you want to go back inside?”

“We are inside,” he smiled. “But yes, we can sit in the drawing room instead. I’ll light a fire.”

They picked up their books and went to sit out the storm in the parlour. Ominis lit a fire, as he promised, with a carefully aimed spell, while she unpacked a box of biscuits the elves had bought the week before.

“I want more tea,” she said. “Do you?”

“Certainly,” said Ominis, still tending to the fire.

He heard her going out toward the kitchen, then coming back with the little clinking of porcelain on a tray and set it on the table in front of the fireplace.

“You have lovely tea sets,” she said pensively, “albeit some are a bit macabre.”

“How so?” he chuckled. “Do you mean the designs?”

“Yes,” she said from further back in the room. “Black pansies and bone piles, and oh my, this one has skulls,” she laughed. “And this is an interesting kettle. The cups fit along its side like mushrooms growing from a tree… Wonderful craftsmanship.”

Ominis frowned — he didn’t recall them having a tea set with skulls on it… The blood froze in his veins when he realised what it was.

“Well, you don’t want to use any of those,” he said as he quickly got up and walked toward her. “Let’s use the cups from earlier.”

“But I had green tea in mine, and now I want some oolong. The flavours wouldn’t mix.”

“Yes, but —”

“Oh, please, Ominis,” she said, and he could hear her pouting so sweetly, “I want to try them. I’ve never seen such fancy cups before.”

He frowned and clenched his jaw, but smiled. “Alright. Anything for you.”

“I won’t break them, I promise,” she grinned.

“Just don’t pick the —” He stopped when he heard that distinctive bony clank.

“The what?”

“Nothing.”

The storm still raged outside and thunder trembled through the walls. Ominis checked the kettle, then felt around the tray until he found one of the cups. With trembling hands, held the teapot and poured. The liquid hissed in its distinctive way until it nearly reached the rim, and then he filled the other.

“Milk? Honey?” she offered.

“None for me, thank you.”

“Well, I’ll have both.”

“Not sure there’s enough honey to sweeten up that cup,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What?” she laughed. “What was that?”

The fireplace hissed and flapped when a draft from down the chimney hit its fire. Another bout of thunder rolled its way across the distance and sounded through the room. Between the silence, the rain beat against the window in incessant little drops.

“I just… I really don’t like this set,” he finally said.

He made no effort to disguise how he was feeling this time. There was a frown between his brows that he couldn’t wipe away, and his lips were set in a firm line that refused to let him speak. His hands were braced on the edge of the table as if he might fall if he let go.

“Ominis,” she said after a few moments, “do you want me to drink from this?”

“I might,” he said with a sardonic smile. “I partially do.”

“Why?”

“Curiosity. Indifference. A touch of sadism.”

“And what about the other part?”

“The other part,” he sighed, “is sick.”

She got up — he hadn’t even noticed when she sat — and was right by his side, her warm hands uncoiling his from around the wood.

“It sounds to me as if both are sick,” she quietly said.

Ominis allowed his flesh to melt in her grasp, his bones losing their firmness and his blood its vigour. When she moved him to sit down, he followed without resistance.

“I just don’t know how to feel,” he said weakly, “about anything anymore.”

“Well, let’s start from somewhere… For instance, how do you feel about yourself?” she asked as she kneeled beside his chair, her hands still on his.

“Shame,” said Ominis. “I don’t even know why I just said that… But, shame, and humiliation.”

“Why?”

“Because I still don’t know how I should be. What I should like, what I should think, how I should react to things, and how I should behave. All parts of me were formed by evasion and as… as a reaction to something else, rather than coming from me. And…”

“Yes?”

“And I fear I’ve pushed myself down so low that I can not dig myself up again. An early grave,” he chuckled.

“Don’t be like that, Ominis,” she said, holding him more firmly. “You’re still here, and they’re the ones who are gone.”

“That hardly gives me much satisfaction.”

“And what would?”

“I don’t know. Burying them, I suppose, one way or another. Or… getting rid of them some other way.”

“How?”

“I haven’t decided,” he said, unthinkingly turning his head toward the teacups steaming with tea.

“And… how do you feel about me?” she asked.

“You?” he said, turning toward her again. “I feel like… like I’ve lost you before I had a chance. And other times, I feel like I never had a chance to start with. So, I suppose I feel hopeless.”

“Well, luckily for you, all of those are wrong,” she said with a smile.

It was Ominis’ turn to hang on to her. His fingers curled around her hands and gripped onto her wrists like shackles.

“Do you mean that?” he asked.

“I do.”

“So you don’t want to see Sebastian again?”

“I — well…”

“You know what I mean.”

“Ominis, I don’t need Sebastian to be happy,” she said archly. “Not any more than he needs me.”

The hint of resentment in her voice did not go unnoticed, but he chose not to address it, at least for now.

“What do you need to be happy?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“And why?”

“Because I happen to need you.”

[chaosduckies]

Restoration (Chapter 6)

I had no idea what to do with this chapter, but it’s going to mostly lead up to something that’s going to happen later on! So mostly a filler chapter just because why not?

Word Count: 5.1k

CW: Slight mentions of suicide, slight trigger warnings, serious overthinking

6-Nathan

A week has passed since that night. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how I just hugged him. How embarrassed I’ve felt since then. How awkward I feel when I’m near Ryker. Even though he wasn’t at all bothered by it. It hasn’t left my mind. I just feel so embarrassed by it. I mean, we barely knew each other and I just went up and gave him a makeshift hug? Not something people do on an ordinary basis. But still, I haven’t forgotten the way he gently pressed one of his fingers against my back to return the gesture. Somehow I was terrified, but also… grateful? Happy? Whatever the word for it was, it just felt nice. 

I spent that entire week trying to talk to him again, but I guess the adrenaline rush was the only reason I could get those few words out to him. Of course, because I can never get anything to work out in my favor. Typical Nathan. 

Well, during that week, my mom had taken off from work to be with me, since she’s apparently realized that I’ve “been in and out of it,” This entire week. Which I have, I just didn’t think she’d really notice. But of course she does, because she’s a parent and a nurse. How could she not notice? 

She asked me everyday for the past five days after school how everything was going. I would always reply with a smile and say, “It’s good.” Even though in some cases I was lying. Sometimes at school I would stare off into space, not paying attention to anything anyone ever said. Or sometimes when Ryker was talking I would just cave in on myself and ask: Why am I even here? What was wrong with me? Heck, even Ryker has noticed and tried confronting me about it. He told me I didn’t have to answer, and I didn’t. Afraid that I would ruin whatever friendship we’ve made. Or if he even considers us friends. Though, I doubt that was a possibility. 

I had no idea what was wrong with me. Ever since that… hug, I’ve been nothing but a mess. Was it the unbelievable act I thought I could never do again? The way I felt about it afterward? Was it the fact that I wanted to talk so bad, but I couldn’t? Mom can’t know about any of this. She’s already heartbroken enough, and I’d hate myself even more if I dropped this bombshell on her. This is why I needed my dad. Even when I was younger I was always timid and shy and I overthought plenty of things. He’d help me by saying that I should put all of those bad thoughts into a jar and throw it far, far away. But that was when I was a kid. What about now? 

Mom was really worried about me. I could tell. But I was fine. I think. Probably not. Either way, she called the school counselor in hopes that whatever was going on with me would go away. I knew she hated seeing me so sad. I remember when we were still… trapped she used to try to keep my happy by playing little games, or telling me made up stories. As I grew older she tried her best to keep me from crying, trying her hardest to keep me happy. Even after dad died. 

So, this was the week I had started to take counseling after school every Monday and Thursday for forty minutes a day. On top of that, she also contacted Mrs. Kay for whatever reason, and she’s told me that she wants to work with me for at least twenty minutes everyday after class. Great, right? So much for a normal life. I thought I could give it another chance and all of a sudden people are just trying to overwhelm me when I wanted to solve this mystery on my own. 

It was a grueling morning. It was raining, hard. Thunder had sounded above the entire city, making me jump. Stupid right? A seventeen year old scared of thunder? I have a good reason. I think. Didn’t matter. 

I groaned, forcing myself out of bed. This was going to be a long day. I already knew it. It was raining, mom was passed out on the couch, and my body felt like it was going to give up on me at any moment. And luckily that stupid little project thing was over so I could finally take my regular classes. I just hoped Mrs. Kay wouldn’t assign anything crazy again. She probably would though.

I didn’t bother eating breakfast. Just grabbing my backpack on the way out and making my way to the bus before I was late. Nothing to it. The same routine as the past month. 

The school looked as gloomy as ever. Of course it did. It was Monday. The halls were filled with people talking by their class, or running down the hall like there was no tomorrow. Isn’t it too early in the morning to be doing all of that? I was barely waking up. Either way, I went by unnoticed by the crowd of people and made it to class. 

I admit it felt weird not having a looming presence above me at all times. Was that a good thing? I have no idea, but it makes me kind of miss the one-sided conversations Ryker likes to start up. I miss it a lot. Even though I never talked, I loved listening. I was so weird. Before all of this mess, I wanted nothing to do with him, and here I am wishing for his company. Why couldn’t I just be normal? 

The classes were the same as always. Nothing new to it. Then it was lunch. The time period in school where anything can happen. Especially with that encounter a couple weeks back… I shuddered at the thought, reaching the cafeteria. So many people. Too many people. I forgot how crowded it was being on this side. 

Searching for the table I sat at before I had met anyone, I found that it was taken by a group of girls. Nope. Not getting that back. Especially since I know that no one would willingly sit in the far corner. I sighed, searching for a table that was open, and not finding any. Could I just sit with Ryker again? I asked myself. It would be nice, but I don’t think he wants to see me. At least not until last period. I wouldn’t want to be bothered by me either if I were him. 

“Boo.” I jumped, catching my breath while Lucky was laughing so hard he starting coughing. I was not expecting that at all. I thought he would just forget about me. Especially since the “project” was over. I just thought I was another name to be remembered once they all graduate. 

“Sorry, sorry, but you’re so easy to scare,” He chuckles, “Wanna come sit with us?” 

It takes my mind a while to process what just happened, “Wh-who’s ‘us?’” 

“Just Ryker and me. Dylan had a basketball game so I’m all alone.” Lucky shrugged casually. Did I want to sit with them? Yes. Of course I do. I was just afraid I might zone out like I have been for the past week. What if I get scared again? What would happen then? They would all drop me and I’d be all alone again… 

I was about to shake my head before Lucky grabbed my wrist and guided us through the cafeteria to where Ryker always sits. Away from everyone else… I gulped, seeing him stare bored at whatever was playing on his phone. This was a bad idea. Who told me I could even do this? No one. Lucky just dragged me here. And there was a tiny feeling of gratefulness that he did. 

Lucky guided me into the elevator with him. It was silent on the way up, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Lucky looked at me like he was worried. Was it because I kept fidgeting with my hands? Was it because I couldn't look straight ahead? Or was it because he’s noticed something was wrong with me just like everyone else has? Probably the last one. 

“Why do… you look nervous?” Lucky had asked before the elevator made that same ding sound it always does. I didn’t take a step forward, and neither did Lucky. Nervous? I have no idea. 

“I-um… I don’t know.” I let out a sad chuckle, trying my best to give a genuine smile. Lucky gave a skeptical look, “If I promise not to tell will you tell me?” 

Do I trust that? I do. I really, really do. I had no reason not to trust Lucky. Even if I didn’t know what I was so nervous about. I don’t get why everyone was so concerned either! I was a nobody. Just another person trying his hardest to live an impossible normal life. Maybe I should have stayed at the hospital… 

“I really don’t know though.” I muttered, looking down at the ground. Lucky gave another skeptical look before guiding me out of the elevator. I still almost ended up tripping over my own two feet per usual. What was going on with me lately? 

“Hey Ry.” Lucky greeted, smiling and heading over to watch whatever Ryker was watching on his phone like it was nothing. What was I supposed to do now? I can’t… What? My thoughts were a jumbled up mess. I don’t even know what I was thinking at this point. Does Ryker even want me here? No, no he doesn’t. He’s tired of me. I already know it. Everyone gets tired of me eventually. I’m either “Impossible to deal with,” or, “Not worth the time.” A messed up system, right? 

“Hey,” He sighed, his eyes wandering towards me and flashing a soft smile, “Hi, Nathan.” 

I didn’t know what to do. Was he acting? It didn’t really seem like it. He also didn’t seem like the kind of person to act in a situation like this. Still, there was no telling. Maybe he just didn’t want to break the news to me like this? Yeah. Most likely. 

I raised a shaky hand, giving a wave and a nervous smile in hopes that Ryker wouldn’t catch on. He didn’t, but that didn’t stop him from giving a confused expression as if he was trying to put together a puzzle. Hah. As if you could solve my puzzle. I’ve lost so many pieces it’s practically impossible. I’ve tried to solve it myself many times and failed miserably. 

Ryker dragged his attention back to the movie on his phone, looking bored. What was I supposed to do now? We used to watch that hilarious cop show, but I think he only put it on to keep me from being bored and bothering him at this point. Was it all an act? Did he just play along with whatever happened? He didn’t hug me back because he wanted to? He forced himself to do all of those things just so he wouldn’t be bothered? Was I tricked again? 

I’m overthinking.

One step at a time. I said I wanted to give life one more chance, so that’s what I’m going to do. Even if this was all some kind of sick act. Even if I get hurt. I sucked in a deep breath, and sat next to Lucky, watching the events on the theater-sized screen in front of me. Usually I sat further back, but I was afraid of being alone at the moment. 

Even though I was scared out of my mind, there was also some other kind of feeling lingering in the back of my mind. I felt comfortable. Surprisingly after everything that’s been going on inside my head. I was too used to being around Ryker. That doesn’t mean I was comfortable being around any giant though. I had nearly an entire month of forced contact with him. Of course I’d be more lenient towards him. Especially after he’s made no move in those past four months to imprison me and keep me as some kind of pet or entertainment. 

“Bell’s gonna ring.” Ryker grabbed his phone from in front of us, stuffing it back into his pocket and holding his hand palm-up. Why though? We can just take the elevat-

Lucky quickly pulled his backpack on and climbed on, waiting for me to follow. I guess I didn’t have any other choice. Lucky helped me on, and we both managed to fall over on top of each other somehow. Lucky laughed while I hurried to get up, muttering quiet apologies to him. 

“It’s nothing. It happens with Angela all the time.” Lucky smiled. Ryker cupped his hand a bit and started walking towards the doors to get out of the cafeteria. Just in time too, because the bell rang and everyone was now rushing to get to class all of a sudden. I stopped looking back, afraid that the panic attack I’ve been fighting back for the past month would suddenly resurface. Nope. Everything will be okay. I think. Hopefully. 

Ryker crouched down at the part of the hallway that leads back to the human side of the school, letting us down. He barely even talked to me. In fact, the only time he was even talking to either Lucky and I was when we arrived at the table. Was he okay? I couldn’t tell anymore. I just hope that I’m not the cause. 

———Ryker———

Today was not a good day. For more than one reason. One reason being that I had work afterschool today. Another being that I woke up late today due to staying up until about two in the morning because I needed to finish cleaning. And my third reason was the fact that I’m ninety nine percent sure I messed everything up with Nathan. 

In the last week of that “project” I noted that Nathan didn’t really seem to be… himself? Of course I barely knew him and he could have something going on at home, but something just felt off. Maybe it was just that one tiny moment that Friday? Did I do something wrong? Was I not supposed to hug him back? Did I do or say something wrong to upset him? It didn’t really make sense in my head. I thought everything was going good. So why all of a sudden did he seem timid and nervous around me? 

It was that entire week. I asked him if he was okay and if he wanted to talk about it. Nathan just shook his head and gave the best makeshift smile he could manage. I knew something was wrong and that it had something to do with me. And today proved it. It seemed like we were back at step one. 

Was Nathan okay? I remember asking one time and receiving a shake of his head, but I never once thought if he did it just to answer or if he really meant it. I guess I have my answer now. I don’t know why I was so worried honestly. Maybe because in my brain I pretty much consider Nathan and I friends? I have zero idea if he thinks the same, but I hoped so. 

I forced myself through these next grueling classes, waiting for last period. I hadn’t talked to Nathan at lunch because it really didn’t seem like he was up for it at the time. I don’t want to overstep his boundaries either. What if he just wants to be left alone? I have no idea what was going on in his mind as I’ve said before, so that could be a possibility? 

Mrs. Kay had nothing being projected on the board today, which meant it was either a free day or it was some kind of lecture on relationships between human and giants. Something that this world apparently is so focused on. I guess that’s a good thing though. 

After a couple minutes of waiting, I heard the faint ding noise that comes from the elevator and watched as Nathan stumbled out, figuring out a way to trip once again. I’ve wondered for a while why he had always found a way to trip over thin air, but I could never figure it out. Maybe he was just clumsy? It would make sense, but that can’t be the only reason, right? Still, every time he fell my hand twitched to try and help, but I already knew that would tumble everything downhill. Especially now. 

Mrs. Kay had announced that today was a free day since she still had to put in some grades. Would it be overstepping if I asked if Nathan was okay again? Maybe to him, but I was already feeling guilty for being the cause of why he seems so upset. 

“Are you finally glad that you don’t have to be carried around by me anymore?” I nervously laughed, hoping for him to answer. Just build up. That was the way to do this. 

Nathan turned around, thinking about the question before rotating his hand sideways. Kind of? Honestly, that was expected because even Lucky gets tired of being carried around everywhere. Speaking of… Lucky told me something about Nathan making brownies? I’m pretty sure that was on Friday, I just don’t know when he did. But Lucky and Angela absolutely loved them. And Angela had showed me a new stuffed animal that Nathan had bought for her too. In return, she drew a picture of Nathan with some of her crayons and my heart practically melted. 

“Oh, um, Angela has a gift for you. Y’know… for the stuffed animal you bought her?” I smiled. I think it was sweet. I don’t know why he thought he needed gifts though, everyone already thought he was nice already. I guess he just wanted to make sure that no one thought bad of him? 

Nathan’s eyes widened and pointed to himself with an unsure look. Was he confused why? I don’t even know why either. I shrugged my shoulders. Nathan brought his knees up to his chest and stared at the ground, deep in thought. Did I do something wrong again? I guess now would be the time to bring up the topic. 

“I know you’re probably not going to answer me, and that’s okay! But, do you wanna talk about something? You just don’t… look okay.” I bit the side of my cheek in hopes that he’ll give me some kind of a response. He probably thinks I’m annoying at this point. Even I think I am at this point. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have even asked. 

Nathan shook his head, putting on a makeshift smile. He was lying. But, if he doesn’t want to talk to me then I won’t force him to. There was nothing I could do. Although, I’m sure a teacher or even his parents would have noticed this. If they haven’t already, then it would be soon. Most likely they’ll just get a therapist or he’ll eventually tell someone about whatever was going through his mind. 

The rest of the time was spent asking him how his weekend was. How it felt to be back on his schedule. You know, questions to keep his mind off of things. I think it was working. At least for a little before the last bell of the day rang. I gave a two fingered wave to Nathan, receiving a shaky one back and left the room. I still felt bad. 

———Nathan———

Remember when I said today was going to be a bad day? I wasn’t kidding. The one-sided conversation with Ryker helped get rid of the uneasiness of going to the counselors office. But as soon as the final bell rang it all came flooding back. Last period wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. Not bad at all. Not until that loud bell rang, and the entire classroom rushed to get out. 

On my way down the hallway to the counselor’s office, I couldn’t stop thinking about what could possibly go wrong. They might give up on me too. They might tell me to just go home. Or they might send me back to the mental hospital. I mean, it’s not that bad of a place when you don’t have any friends waiting for you, but there were some things that I hated. No contact with the outside world, they make you take these dumb classes to help “calm the mind.” Like yoga or where you would pass a foam ball around and tell everyone your name and what you were there for. I never, ever took part in that exercise. 

Sucking in a deep breath, I knocked quietly on the door that read, “Counsellor Office. Mr. Smith” I didn’t exactly know how these kinds of things worked. All I knew is that no one liked them. 

“You must be Nathan! Please take a seat. Anywhere is fine.” Mr Smith was a tall man. He look about in his late thirties early forties, but he looked so friendly and calm. His voice was trusting and soft as well. I can’t wait till he starts talking behind my back about how impossible I was. 

His office was like any other office I’ve been in. Other than the two different colored bean bags that sat in the corner by a small book case that had a tiny tv above it with movies on the side. This room was nothing like any therapist room I’ve been in. Usually they’re cold and only have a singular couch with magazines about eating healthy and being mentally healthy. Not that those ever helped me. 

I decided to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk, fidgeting with my hands the entire time. Mr. Smith walked over to his own chair, taking out a notebook and gave another soft smile. 

“Nervous? Most students are when they walk in here,” He chuckled, grabbing a pen, “Do you mind telling me your name and how old you are?” I thought he knew that already. 

I opened my mouth to speak, “N-Nathan… I’m seventeen.” Curse the stuttering. Today was already hard enough, why does everything go downhill after I feel good about something? 

“Nice to meet you, Nathan. I’m Garrett Smith, thirty-seven years old, and I have a PhD in psychology.” PhD? Then why is he working as a school counsellor? He could be an actual therapist and won’t have to deal with so many kids. This guy was confusing, but I feel somewhat comfortable around him. Even though we met barely three minutes ago. 

“Now, your mom was worried about you. She says that you seem to be having more nightmares lately. That you seem more tired and sad lately. Would you wan to start there or talk about something else bothering you?” He asked, waiting patiently for my answer. My heart was racing. What was I supposed to answer? I didn’t even know at this point. I haven’t taken therapy for a couple months now, and usually they started with talking about the excruciating events that had happened while we were kidnapped. Instead, Mr. Smith just wants to start with this? Why was that? 

“S-sure.” I nearly squeaked. I never did good at any sort of therapy. I was always too nervous. And then they’d pressure me to answer when I couldn’t. I was afraid that he might do the same. 

“Alrighty then,” He tapped his pen on the notebook, “Would you mind telling me when you started feeling this way?” 

“Last weekend? I th-think.” I started silently tapping my foot on the carpeted ground. Just another thing I do when I was nervous. Mr. Smith didn’t seem to mind or notice. 

“Hm. Did anything… happen around that time?” He wrote something down and I had no idea what it was. Was it bad? Was it good? Did I somehow say too much to get me placed back into the hospital? Please say no. I don’t want to go back there with a bunch of screaming kids throwing the plastic chairs while I was just trying to make some cookies. 

“U-um, just this project thing for Mrs. Kay.” 

“The project where you spent two weeks with a giant in school?” He asked, his face full of curiosity. I nodded my head, playing with my hands again. I’m pretty sure he wrote that down. 

“May I ask who your partner was then?” Oh. Not a question I was too prepared for. I slightly turned to the door, the window peaking inside covered by a piece of cloth. Did it really matter who my partner was? I don’t think it did honestly. 

“Ryker…” His eyebrows shot up in shock as he chuckled lightly, “Ryker Stone?” I nodded. I’m pretty sure that was his last name. How did he know who he was though? There was no way he could know all eight hundred people in this school. That seem a bit over-the-top. 

“From my understanding, you went to his house last Friday and something happened over there?” I nodded. I shouldn’t have hugged him. I shouldn’t have hugged him. I shouldn’t have-

“Was it bad thing?” His eyebrows were scrunched up like he already knew what my answer was going to be. Nothing bad happened. It’s just that my thoughts like taking over me sometimes. A lot of times. I make a good situation and turn it into a bad one. I shook my head at his question. 

Mr. Smith laughed, “That’s Ryker for you. Not a dull moment with him.” He said it like he knew him personally… maybe he did? I mean he is the counsellor. I just didn’t think he worked with giants as well. So if he knew Ryker… does that mean Ryker knew him? Of course that’s what that meant.  

“Back on topic though, I did some looking around on you. I found some… interesting things, but also a record from past therapists. All different notes on you, except for one. That you’re known to overthink situations. Do you think that’s why you’ve been so upset lately? You have a thought on your head from the event that happened?” He wasn’t going to ask what happened? I mean, thank goodness because I don’t think I could answer, but he really wasn’t going to ask me? This guy has a weird way of getting people to open up, but it’s working. It’s working amazingly. 

I nodded my head. Ryker doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I couldn’t stop thinking about this. I knew it was true. I messed everything up that Friday night ruined things between us. The worst part is that I was actually warming up to him. He really did feel like friend even though I was deadly afraid. 

“Do you mind telling me what’s been on your mind? It’s alright if you can’t.” He asked softly, already knowing that this might be hard for me. It is. It really, really is. I didn’t want to lose the only friend I’ll ever make in my entire life. Even before I was kidnapped, all of the other kids didn’t bother talking to the shy, timid kid who sat alone by himself at lunch and never had a friend to play with on the playground during school. 

Now I was in high school where people still look at me the same way. I didn’t want to lose someone who was so nice to me. Who actually takes the time to talk and hang out with me. Is that what’s wrong with me? I didn’t want to see someone I care about leave me? 

That stupid cage had ruined me. 

“I-I don’t think Ryker w-w-wants to be around me,” Tears stung my eyes, and I tried my best to blink them away while sucking in a deep breath, “I-I like to think we’re f-friends… but I d-did something stupid and now that this project is over I think he’s just done with me.” A couple tears fell down my face. I wiped them with the back of my sleeve, looking down at the ground. I really didn’t want to lose the one potential friend I’ve made in my entire life. 

The room was quiet except when I heard Mr. Smith pass the box of tissues my way, showing a sympathetic face, “You don’t want to lose a friend?” I shook my head, calming myself down before I make this even more embarrassing for myself. I haven’t cried for a while. It felt good for some reason. Too bad I wasn’t going to let it go any further than a couple tears. 

“And what if Ryker still wants to be friends? What would you think then?” 

That he’ll eventually grow tired of me like everyone else. That it’s only short lived. He’ll eventually forget about me. 

“I’d be grateful… but I doubt he’d remember me after graduation.” I sadly answered. Mr. Smith wrote something down, ripping out the page he was writing on and handing me the paper. I grabbed it with shaky hands, looking over the paper. My name, age, things I’ve done while sitting in his office, and some squiggly lines. He didn’t write down questions? No notes on what he should do next? 

“I don’t like writing down the questions I ask. I think people would prefer to keep them said and not on paper,” He chuckled, “And as for your tiny piece of advice, you and Ryker aren’t so different, and I doubt he thinks ill of you.” That was it? No other questions? He wasn’t going to pry me open? He wasn’t going to force me to spill my guts to people who didn’t want waste their time anyways? No words could describe how confused and happy I was at the same time. 

“Th-that’s it?” I muttered, trying to figure out if he was playing a trick on me or not, but he nodded his head and opened the door for me. I grabbed my backpack, stuffing the sheet of notebook paper in it and walked out of the door. 

“Thank you.” I mumbled. 

Mr. Smith smiled, “Come anytime you want to talk. Just remember after school on Thursday, okay?” I nodded, thinking hard about how Mr. Smith believes, in all honesty, that Ryker won’t just leave me. He could be right. I just have to trust in his word. 

—————————————————————-

Yup. Nathan’s afraid that Ryker will leave him now that their little project is over. I wonder what happens next?

I don’t know how I feel about this chapter. I like and I don’t at the same time. We’ll see. Thank you for reading! Love you guys ❤️

[coraniaid]

To the ever growing list of dead adult women in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Catherine Madison, Jenny Calendar, and Joyce’s friend Pat so far, with at least three more significant names to come over the next three years) we can now add Faith’s first Watcher.  This character never officially gets a name, but she’s called Diana Dormer in the Go Ask Malice tie-in novel and I’ll use that name too just to avoid typing out “Faith’s first Watcher” repeatedly.  ‘Diana’ has zero lines of dialogue and appears on screen for zero minutes (which is pretty bad even by the standards of this show) and after this episode she will never be mentioned by anyone again, but nonetheless I think she’s a very interesting character.

Even if Faith’s arc in Season 3 wasn’t fully planned out from the start, Faith, Hope & Trick establishes quite a lot of what her character will look like going forward.  In particular, we see signs of what she’ll later self-diagnose as a “problem with authority figures” in her initial enthusiasm about the possibility for “having fun” now that she’s “Watcherless and fancy-free”, and in the first of a handful of hints about the circumstances of her pre-Slaying life (“my dead mother hit harder than that”, she tells a vampire mid-fight).  

And we also see, at the end of the episode, that this posture of tough self-sufficiency that Faith assumes is something of an act: that her Watcher’s death has actually had a huge impact on her, one which she’s been trying and failing to suppress since before she arrived in Sunnydale.  It’s surely not a coincidence that we have a scene of Faith hurriedly packing and preparing to flee town this episode which mirrors the scene of Buffy doing the same thing just last episode.  After all, there was a part of the quote from Revelations I omitted earlier: the problem Faith has with authority figures is that “they end up kind of dead”.

What was Faith’s Watcher actually like?  The show doesn’t think to tell us; the writers simply don’t care. All we know about her from this episode, other than that she’s dead, is the vaguest of suggestions that she was older than Giles (since, on seeing Giles, Faith comments that she hadn’t “known they came that young and cute”) and perhaps that she was in rather better standing with the Watcher’s Council (Diana, after all, probably was invited to the retreat, or how else would Faith have known about it?).  We also know that Faith blames herself for not being able to protect Diana from Kakistos (“I was there […] I saw what he did to her [...] I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t.  And I ran.”).  

I think those scraps – a dead, possibly abusive mother who, we’ll learn later, spent a lot of time “enjoying the drinking and passing out parts of life”, and a dead Watcher she wasn’t able to save – explain a lot about how quick Faith is to bond with practically every adult who spends even five minutes making the effort.  From Joyce in this very episode (“your Mom’s really cool, huh?” she tells Buffy within minutes of meeting her, her loyalty bought by a plate of food and the promise of a second soft drink), to Gwendolyn Post in just a few episodes’ time, to the Mayor himself in the second half of this season. Faith has a problem with authority figures, in that she really desperately wants one in her life.

One last thought. 

Something I hadn’t really considered before – and which I’m not sure the writers thought through either – is that Faith knowing about the Watcher’s retreat (and assuming Giles would be at it) means her Watcher must have told her she was going to the retreat herself, presumably sometime shortly before she died.  And at this point, even assuming she was Called soon after Kendra died, Faith can only have known Diana for a couple of months.

So at some point soon after meeting her, and only shortly after finding out about being a Slayer, Faith’s Watcher must have had to sit her down and tell her that she’d be leaving the country for a bit, to go and hobnob and kayak and socialize with the other Watchers in England, and that Faith would have to look after herself again for a little while.  I can imagine Faith playing it tough, like it was no big deal.  Other kids might be scared, but not her.  She can take care of herself, after all, can’t she?

And then her Watcher died, right in front of her eyes, and it turned out that she couldn’t.

Still, this episode at least ends on a positive note.  “The Council has approved our request,” Giles tells Buffy at the end of the episode.  “Faith is to stay here indefinitely.  I’m to look after you both until a new Watcher is assigned.”  Things have been tough – as Buffy notes, Faith had “a lot to deal with” – but she’s got somebody else to look after her now, so everything’s going to be fine forever.

… right?

[rockinlibrarian]

Post-Umbrella Academy S4 Reaction Part Five, appropriately: On Love Triangles (spoilers under cut)

Man, that makes me feel compelled to add a Reaction Part to my projected six Reaction Parts, and then reorder them so Viktor's is seventh. Anyway.

So in this series of posts so far, we've had the Good, the Bad, and now we have the Incredibly Controversial. (We also had the Fandom and the Fix-it, but those didn't fit as nicely into that sentence).

I have a pretty nicely curated Tumblr dashboard. I only follow people I like, who have sensible things to say, and I try to avoid diving into tags and For Yous (which a remarkable amount of the time make no sense— when I do look at that feed, I see topics people I follow love that I have NEVER INTERACTED with. I tolerate these topics for the people I follow, why would I want to see more of those from strangers?).

Yet I have seen no middle ground on this next topic. Half my TUA mutuals are over the moon, half are positively livid.

And here am I in the middle feeling ACK.

I'm allowed to be in the middle, right?

Let’s dive into my opinions on (is this really a spoiler anymore here on Tumblr?) Five/Lila/Diego under the cut.

Yeah, it’s not my ship, and I would never have made the choice. I make no secret about my non-canon OTP, and Lila/Diego was the only CANON ship I ever found interesting enough to root for. I found Five and Lila’s best-frenemies relationship utterly delightful and I’ll miss getting to accept it as that and not the early stages of enemies-to-lovers. But from an in-story standpoint it does make perfect sense, even if it’s not a direction many viewers wanted it to go in.

Linking back to the Venn diagram I reblogged at the start of the Season 4 Discourse: “I liked it,” “It made in-universe sense,” “it made narrative sense.” Although, just to be annoying, the topic refuses to be sorted into even those categories nicely. Certainly most of us seem to disagree on which— if any of them— even apply.

Let’s take it one topic at a time. Viktor got a whole post to himself, so I need to give some attention to the other half of my favorite characters/OTP/most-commonly-POV’d babies, Five. You see, the most common complaint I hear about this plot development is that it’s totally out of character for Five. Five would never hurt Diego that way! Five is aroace! Five spent his life trying to get home to his siblings, he’d never give up and decide to stay in the subway! Since when would Five put romantic love over familial love?

I disagree. Maybe I’m wrong— many of the people I’ve seen making this claim have consistently written takes on Five that I very strongly adore. How could we disagree on whether or not the dude is in character here? But let me plead my case.

It’s true that Five is different this season, and not in a fun way. His feral-ness is one of the most delightful things about him in general, and it just…wasn’t there. But I think that’s a question for the “I liked it” portion of the Venn diagram (feral Five is so much more fun to watch than sad and tired Five) and possibly for the “narrative sense” portion (do you really want to abandon the the most popular qualities of a character just for the sake of realistic character progression?). It DOES make in-universe sense, because Five is depressed in season 4.

Think about where he is at the start of the season— and for the whole show before that. He spent his whole long, traumatic life obsessed with getting back to, with saving, these people, and all they have done in return is ignore him, yell at him, and blame him for things that weren’t his fault. Viktor my love not even you are an innocent here— sure you spent 17 years mourning him, but then when you finally get him back, you brush off or outright deny everything he ever confides in you, and then you abandon HIM for six years, and he was in the body of a minor at the time, he really could have used you by his side there! (My shipper heart insists his betrayal was the worst of all of them, and even platonically it very well could be).

These people he dedicated his life to turned out to not just be idiots (in his estimation), but they’ve gone and pushed each other— and him— away for six years. His whole life purpose had been to save them, and for what? For them to take it for granted, to squander their second (third, fourth…) chances at life complaining how life sucks and it’s probably Five’s fault? What did he do all this FOR, in the end? And what should he be doing with his life NOW? He’s lost his goals, his meaning. IT’S DEPRESSING DANGIT but it makes sense!

And then he ends up stranded in time. Again. But this time he’s with somebody else— an actual real-life friend instead of a figment of his imagination. He fell in love with Delores because they were partners alone in time— why wouldn’t it happen with a flesh-and-blood person, who can actually act in loving ways toward him? Okay, it’s his sister-in-law, but they’ve been lost for six years with no guarantee of ever getting back, she and Diego had already been on the rocks (I’ll get into her side of the thing farther down), and what does Five care about conventions like How to and not to act with one’s brother’s wife, anyway? He’s feral, remember? He’s not going to stop and say, “No, we can’t do this, it’ll hurt Diego’s feelings,” in this situation! They’re lost in time and all they have is each other!

And let’s examine the whole concept of Five in a romantic relationship to begin with. Obviously I’m not against the concept, because I ship him. It’s ridiculous on my part, because when I started reading TUA fanfic I honestly said, “Wow, it’s refreshing to have a character so impossible to ship as Five is— how many interesting GEN fics can this guy spawn?” and before I knew it I was shipping him with his adoptive brother. BUT. I have also fully embraced the popular headcanon that he’s ace (note: show-Five is not comics-Five in many ways, and this is one of them). Aspec, at least. (NOT aro: I don’t know how anyone can see the way he’s always talked about/treated Delores and not understand that he is absolutely a total romantic). Even in my shipping fics, he’s aspec— “Viktor-sexual,” I have called it even. He falls for his best friend, and his best friend only. And— if I can shamelessly quote one of my own fics here—

“Look, I was married to half a mannequin for thirty-some years, I may have a slightly different understanding of marriage than the average person….Yes, I said what I said. Delores is complicated, okay? There are facts, and there are truths. Facts are I created her out of the rubble of a department store and my own desperation. I know this, I do! But the truth is she loved me. She kept me alive, she lifted me when I would have given up, she fixed my mistakes but forgave me for them, she made me laugh and even laughed back at me. That's what marriage is to me. A partner through the twists and turns of life! It has nothing to do with desire and passion and sex.”

And that’s exactly what happened with Lila! They had become partners through the infinite twists and turns of a seemingly-impossible-to-escape life! I keep seeing “since when does Five think with his dick?” comments, but he WASN’T! It took nearly seven years of close proximity, you-and-me-against-the-multiverse partnership, and shared traumas to happen, and significantly, she made the first move. It absolutely holds up to my own personal headcanons of how Five interacts with romantic love.

And I feel like Five doesn’t really segregate different kinds of love. Romantic or familial, it’s all LOVE, right? We actually had this conversation in the comments of the above fic, “New World Symphony,” just days before S4 dropped: there’s a scene where Five completely confuses the others by explaining that he doesn’t think finding himself married to Viktor is weird because “you’re my brothers— that’s family; he’s my husband— that’s family too,” and JBD— who, I must point out, is not a Fiktor shipper— commented, “Aww, for Five, family is another word for people he loves.” And I thought that was a brilliant way to sum it up (funnily enough, I responded by referring to Five calling Lila “family” at the beginning of S3!). So when he finds the answer to getting home— is it really so hard to believe he doesn’t want to go back? Lila is family just as much as the others are, and LILA ACTUALLY SHOWS HIM LOVE, which is more than any of his adoptive sibs did for him for those first six years back. He was DEPRESSED in the real world, and now he’s HAPPY! Things change! Of course he dedicated his life to getting back home BEFORE, but like the first episode says, it was the Unbearable Tragedy of Getting What You Want! Now he knows better!

From an “In-show sense” standpoint. Maybe not from a “Narrative Sense” standpoint.

Let’s now try to discuss the state of Dilila, but more briefly. (This post is already 1800 words long). It made me sad to see what a mess their relationship had become in the past six years, and I thought it was kind of mean of the storyline to threaten to break them up, but after awhile, as we saw more of it, I had hope for them! I just rediscovered the “Into the Woods” soundtrack recently and suddenly they were reminding me of the Baker And His Wife— they needed to go Into the Woods--symbolically and literally—to be separated from each other, to learn new things about themselves, to yes even have an affair on her part— to appreciate what they had together, to rekindle their True Love. They needed to reevaluate themselves, each other, and their lives, and a separation would only help them to do so. (Now, when we talk about the in-characterness of it all, I DO question whether Lila was completely in character this season— but I mean, that’s part of it, IS she being herself? What does she NEED to be herself? She has to figure that out!)

And here’s where we get to the “Narrative Sense” problem, because that never had the chance to RESOLVE. Going back to what I said yesterday about the problem with The End— EVERYBODY HAD UNRESOLVED ISSUES, and SOME of them were too FRESH to be resolved! Who makes that narrative choice?!

I think narratively, it would work best if Lila and Diego reunited, appreciating each other all the more, and Five would let it happen because he’s primed to believe that being happy is too much to ask for, which is very sad but it works.

Except Lila never does make a choice, and Diego and Five die mad at each other.

Stupid ending.

But to be honest, maybe the writers didn’t want to make the choice because they couldn’t decide either. Narratively we’re rooting for Dilila, but from an in-show character standpoint, Lila and Five really are better for each other than Lila and Diego are. They’re on the same level. They understand each other in ways no one else can, being Commission Agents/murderers and having both been manipulated and betrayed by the Handler. They are matches for each other.

You know, I’m kind of annoyed by this fact. Five IS actually the better choice for Lila. I really want her to be happy with Diego but the facts are facts, she’d be happier with Five.

DANGIT I don’t even KNOW how to ultimately deal with them in the Summerland fix-it! I WANT Lila and Diego to reunite and also want Five to settle into a happy queerplatonic partnership with Viktor (I will DO MY BEST not to ship them in this fic, for the sake of everyone else who might want to read it, but that may be the extent of my best), but now I’m like is that really fair to Lila? UGH, RELATIONSHIPS!

I may settle for everybody taking a break from everybody while they work out their individual issues. (I did start writing a Diego and Kerry scene to immediately follow up the Five and Viktor scene I posted the other day, in which Kerry uses the Power of Autism to compel Diego to be introspective. Who knew.

“My brother stole my wife.” “Did she get free again?” “What?” “You said he stole her. Where did he put her?” “No, I meant he— they had an affair, he didn’t kidnap her.” “You said he stole her, but it sounds like she went with him because she wanted to, so that’s not stealing.” “It’s— why do you care?” “Because you’re not being accurate! He didn’t steal her if it was her choice to go!” “That—.” That made him very uncomfortable, was what that did. “Okay. My wife left me for my brother. That make sense to you?” She peered wide-eyed at him and started to open her mouth, so he added, “and yes she came back. Physically. But physically’s not the point.”

--snippet edited 12:46 ET 8/18/24 just because I actually wrote that final line and it gives the snippet more of a finished feeling so I had to add it. Anyway, so Diego ends up focusing on his issues with Always Being Second-Best at Summerland. If he learns to deal with his own insecurities, he could possibly even truly earn Lila’s love back! But first he has to deal with HIMSELF!)

Long story short, I did not hate this development, and the thing I liked least about it is tied to the thing I liked least about the whole season: if they'd only had time to resolve their issues before getting annihilated from existence, it wouldn't have been terrible! If THAT had been, then I'd be all for it!

I mean, mostly so. I'm still going to be a shameless Fiktor shipper, of course.

[breakerwhiskey]

205 - TWO HUNDRED FIVE

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Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

(a slight intake of breath)

[click, static]

Do you think I’m a fucking idiot, Fox? Did you think that you’d earned my trust simply by the virtue of being one of the few people in the world I talk to? Did you think that having sent me Leann’s coordinates before meant I would blindly follow wherever you led?

I know I said there was no harm in trying, that it’s good to have hope, but that doesn’t mean that I’m new to this. That doesn’t mean I was going to be fucking stupid about it.

[click, static]

I think you’ve forgotten who I am. I wasn’t some sort of criminal mastermind, or bad-ass GI Joe, but I spent my life sneaking and thieving and never getting caught. In fact I wouldn’t have been caught if—

I’ve been taking care of myself since I was fifteen years old. I’ve learned when to trust people and when not to and I’m fucking good at calculating risk. And maybe I’ve let myself get soft this last year, maybe I’ve wanted to trust a little more than usual but that trust has always been conditional.

I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you were banking on me just driving right up to the coordinates and announcing myself, you’re not very good at whatever you’re trying to do.

And I know what you’ll say—maybe Junior just also heard the coordinates and just beat me there. Except I didn’t say how close I was to the coordinates you gave. I was fucking close. And he was already there. I even checked the hood of his car, that stupid VW—it was cold. He’d been there for a while. You sent me to him.

You sent me to him and either you knew exactly where he was or you told him where to go first. Because it looked like he was waiting. And he had—he had a gun, Fox, and I’m sure he would’ve shot me on the spot. He was waiting for something. For someone.

So I waited too. I watched him for two hours. And you know why I think you told him where to go and then gave me those coordinates? Because he started to talk. I’m not someone who is going to judge someone else for talking to themselves, I would be a fucking hypocrite if I did. But he was…he was yelling. He was yelling for me. He was furious when I didn’t show up. And it…it made him look even more frail. Like the scared little kid he practically is. The gun was shaking in his hand. I doubt he could’ve shot straight if he’d tried.

Junior might be inexperienced, he might be ill-equipped, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. The way he was shouting, the anger that’s inside him…you don’t have to know what you’re doing to be a threat.

[click, static]