#hopefully this shows up in the tags it's always a shot in the dark whether or not it will

[truefandemonium]

Hi sweetheart!! Your number 1 fan here 🤗

Can I request for a fic where King and reader have a very special relationship where both of them love each other, but they never admitted their feelings. One day she gets shot and King freaks out, almost crying and finally admits his feelings for her. The rest is up to you, love! Hope you like it, hun. Sending lots of love 🤗💖

Thanks so much again for the request! Sorry this one took so long to come out 😭 I hope this one is as good as the other you requested! I struggled a little bit with some of the emotional scenes but hopefully it fits what you were wanting to see!! Much love!!

“For Every Moment”

[Dr King Schultz x Fem!Reader] (Mature)

TW: Blood, violence, strong language, innuendo

Tags: fluff, angst, love confessions, soulmates, possessiveness, tending to wounds, kissing, bed sharing

5,285 words

…

You always wondered if King felt the same way about you as you did him.

The flirting, mostly from you, so it happened, was nice. As were the gentle touches— which lingered longer in the dark of campsites and after private interactions in tavern hallways. On long rides across desert landscapes, you would find King’s eyes wandering to land on you— his gaze rarely left your face, and you wouldn’t expect anything else from such a self-proclaimed gentleman. However, there was once when you’d been down at the river washing yourself and had forgotten to warn neither King nor Django, and the men happened upon you half nude.

Django couldn’t have cared less, stripping down and taking his own corner of the undertow to bathe in, not giving you a second glance, while King turned a shade of red you’d thought was reserved only for tomatoes, and after taking a prolonged look of shock at your breasts, turned tail and fled back to the wagon. He couldn’t even look in your direction the rest of that day, keeping his chin tucked into his chest and hat pulled low over his brow to avoid your eyes.

You’d found the whole thing quite funny, if not slightly embarrassing on your behalf, but King refused to speak of it again, shying away from the mere mention of the occurrence.

Which was why it made this whole thing so damn confusing. Did he love you or didn’t he? Perhaps in Germany, the men were simply more prone to shows of romanticism. You shake your head to yourself as you lean forward and stir the beans in the pot over the fire with a wooden spoon. Maybe you’d never know what was going on in King’s head. Either way, you’d enjoy his company until your last breath, and happily.

“Something on your mind, frauline?” King’s buttery voice breaks into your thoughts as you sit back down on the log in front of the fire, and you panic for a moment, watching him out the corner of your eye as he approaches and takes a seat across from you.

“No, nothing,” you say, wondering how to breach the subject plaguing you. Debating whether or not you should at all…

“You have the look of a kicked pup, my dear,” the man purrs, his tone so convincing and gentle. “You’re certain there is nothing I can do to ease your burden?” You just want to melt when you hear him speak— like a glass of whiskey; making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

But you shake your head again, suddenly choked at the thought of telling him your true feelings for him. “I’m fine, King— really.” The lie is obvious, and you regret it as soon as it leaves your lips, noticing the way the scorn hits King like an arrow to the chest.

He practically winces as he nods. “My apologies— I do not mean to pry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, wrestling with yourself. You pull the pot off the fire and nod your thanks as King stands and holds out two small tin cups for you to scoop the food into cautiously. “It’s just…” You stop as Django returns from where the horses are tied several yards away, the thickness returning to your throat.

Django instantly senses your odd behavior, his eyes narrowing as he takes one of the tin cups from King’s outstretched hand. You blink at him, silently pleading for him to give you and King space, and thankfully, he picks up on your desperate expression.

Poking a spoon into his cup of beans, Django glances between you and King with a sniff, grumbling, “Need some air. I’ll be… over there.” He jerks his head sideways and starts off into the desert, and you instantly feel a twinge of guilt, alongside relief.

King, confused, opens his arms wide, gesturing to the wide open space around you. “You have all the air of Texas, dear Django!”

The ex-slave just waves one hand above his head, calling as playfully as you ever hear him, “Not with what you two got hangin’ in it.”

You flush at his words, and King’s gaze flicks back to you, his green eyes wide. “Oh?” he says, clueless, which only makes you burn further, setting the pot down after dishing your own helping. “I didn’t realize we had things to discuss,” he says slowly, sitting back down, his eyes still glued to you. As he sees your expression, suddenly teary eyes and red face, his own gaze changes; softens with realization. “Oh,” he adds in a near whisper, swallowing.

“Frauline,” he says gently, the firelight casting shadows across his worn face. “I do hope you know that you can always speak to me.” He tries to joke, adding with a stressed chuckle, “I cannot promise that my advice will be all that helpful, but—”

“No, see— King, that’s the problem,” you sigh, dropping your head into your hands. “I… I can tell you anything— everything. And I do. But you—” You look up and see the way his brow is furrowed, confusion clouding his gaze. You say gently, “You don’t tell anyone anything at all, King. Not even me.”

At that, he smiles ruefully, even the small gesture making your belly tighten. “Ach, mein lieb,” he sighs softly, “I am an old man. I do not expect a girl like yourself to be a confidant, and that is not something you should ever feel is required of you—”

“But I want to be,” you argue. King seems taken aback, even leaning up from where his forearms had been resting on his knees to look at you.

“Y/N,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child. “I need you to know this: I love you.”

Your heart stops in this moment, and you’re sure if physics weren’t against you— you’d be floating right up into the stars above your head.

King continues, gesturing to the dark desert where his partner has just disappeared to, “Just as I love our dear Django. You two are my closest compatriots— dare I say friends.” At that, he smiles, and you feel your chest begin to constrict, sadness creeping up your throat and threatening to steal your breath away. Friends, right. Nothing more. But as quick as it had appeared, King’s smile leaves again, in lieu of his expression growing deadly serious. “And that means that you are both at a greater risk for being the targets of unhappy acquaintances of bad men I have a duty to dispatch. I enjoy your company— and always have. But I will not allow myself to be the reason either of you get hurt.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you try to reason, simply wanting to hear him admit that he likes you more than he’s letting on.

“Then what—” King’s words are cut off by Django’s sudden and panicked return from the desert; the fellow bounty hunter practically sprinting to your side, eyes huge and breathing heavy.

“Damn rattlesnake ‘bout bit my ass up,” he pants, jerking one thumb over his shoulder.

“You what?” King asks, clearly having been so focused on snapping back at you that he hardly heard his friend.

Django frowns, saying in a choppy, disdainful tone, “A rattler, King. Almost bit. My ass. The hell up.” His brown eyes flick between you and King, trying to gauge the tension there. “You two done bickerin’, then?”

King looks at you, his gaze managing to still remain confused even after your outburst. “I did not think any bickering occurred, Y/N—?”

You stand up without looking at him, pushing your half-eaten tin cup of beans into Django’s hands. “I’m not hungry. Goodnight, Django.” You turn slightly and mutter, “Night, King.”

As you make your way toward the horses to acquire your bedroll, you don’t see the way Django shrugs and sits down to begin digging into your leftovers— nor how King watches you go with a broken expression. There was so much he wanted to say… he just didn’t know how.

Little did you know, this was the first time in King’s life he’d found himself speechless.

…

“Dammit fuck, King, he’s getting away!” Django curses, his burning eyes glued to the form of the desperado booking it across the sandy desert.

King smiles, his silver beard catching the sunlight beating down from above, his green eyes shimmering as he watches the horse gallop with his bandit rider atop him.

“Django, my boy— patience is one part of bounty hunting you need to learn sooner than later,” King tells him, his tone stern but affectionate.

“Yeah? Well I’d rather pop this sumbitch a bullet right up his ass before he has time to tell all his buddies that somebodys are skulkin’ around up in the desert,” Django barks back, seething.

“That ‘somebodys’ ‘d be us, right?” you ask, sitting placidly on the wagon, playing with Fritz’s reins.

King speaks before Django can annoyedly answer you. “I was going to let you figure it out yourself but since your common sense has seemed to have deserted you at this time, I will explain.” King leans over Fritz to stare at Django and say slowly, “We are missing two of three outlaws. That one—” King points toward the disappearing shape of the man on the run without looking away from his partner. “—will lead us directly to the other two, that we are looking for.”

Django’s eyes flash with understanding and he curls his lip in a growl.

“Do you understand now, why we are going to simply follow him instead of impulsively putting a bullet in his brain?” King asks him.

The other man glowers for a moment before responding. “Yeah, you don’t gotta be so con-sendin’ ‘bout it,” Django snarls, hopping atop his horse and clicking his tongue to steady the beast.

King just smiles. “I prefer the term patronizing, but yes, condescending works, too. I will continue to use that tone until you learn to trust me,” he says, and Django nods ruefully. “You know I only have either of your best interests at heart,” King reminds you both, getting onto the wagon beside you. With a grin, he adds, “And money, of course. You really think I’d sabotage a bounty for my ego?”

Django rolls his eyes, lips twitching up into a smirk as he replies, “With you, doc— can’t never be too sure.”

King chuckles, the sound making butterflies take off in your belly, and you distract yourself from his utter perfection by handing the reins off and awaiting departure.

“Ready, my dear?” King asks you, and you swallow, nodding. You want desperately to bring up the talk last night— but you can’t. You just wish you could poke around in his mind until finding the honest truth behind his affection for you.

But before you can even try to see past his gaze to find out the intention behind his words, he’s telling Fritz to giddyup and flicking the reins commandingly. You try not to watch the side of his face as he calmly drives the stage, his brow unfurrowed and a soft smile playing on his lips.

You wonder how he can be so unbothered by everything— when you feel like your very world is crumbling without knowing how he feels about you. You force yourself not to dwell on it. Getting into a deadly situation while stuck in your own head could spell disaster, and you need to be the lookout for your two partners.

After a considerable time following the tracks of your runaway bandit, you arrive in a near-ghost town, streets empty and buildings falling apart. No wonder the trio chose this place to hideout, they’d never be suspected to be found here.

King pulls the wagon up to a tree down the street from a saloon, where he glares and points out a familiar horse to Django, accompanied by two others. The two men dismount and begin muttering to each other, guns on their hips ready to go while you look on in awe. No matter how many times you see it, you’re still in wonder of their ability to work together like a machine, producing bodies of bad men like it’s nothing, and then profiting from it.

You wait atop the wagon behind Fritz until King turns to you and orders, “Stay on the wagon, alright? If you hear two or more shots, and neither me or Django comes out— take his horse to the nearest town, about ten miles that way, and get the sheriff.”

“You’re scaring me with that kinda talk,” you tell him, hating the moments that he gets so serious about collecting bounties. Most often, Django and King make jokes and promises for grand sleeping arrangements in hotels before going to do a job. But every once in a while, King gets a twinge of anxiety, and makes you promise not to try and avenge his death in the scenario he’s killed by his own target.

King chuckles softly, now, dipping his head. “I’m sorry, frauline. I do tend to catastrophize things. I will be out in six minutes, how is that?”

You smile. “Make it five.”

“I’ll make it two if you both shut up in the next ten seconds,” Django interrupts, narrowing his eyes at the saloon down the dusty street.

You and King fall silent, and changing one last (what you hope is meaningful) glance before the two hunters depart from you, and you wring the hem of your dress in your sweaty fist as you wait for them to return.

You watch with a knot in your stomach as they disappear one after the other into the saloon, your eyes finally wandering away from the door and coming to rest on the wagon seat you’re sitting on.

Your heart stutters at the sight of King’s crumpled paper sitting there, right next to your clenched fist. You scramble to pick it up and read it, recognizing it as the arrest order from the judge for the three men inside the saloon with Django and Dr King Schultz.

Shit. King needs this paper, he always takes the judge’s order with him on a job! Panic floods you, and you stand up, hurrying off the wagon and down the street, heart racing.

You’ll be quick. You’ll simply appear with the order, make sure it’s in King’s hand before racing back out— nothing more.

You reach the saloon and get close enough to hear voices. Fear grips you at the sound of arguing.

“You’ll never get all of us, you son of a bitch!” someone yells, and you hear the bang of a bullet being fired as the saloon doors burst open. A stranger races out and collides with you as scream, your head hitting the hard ground with a smack.

The world spins as more sounds ring out, and suddenly you’re being dragged to your feet by a man’s strong hand. An arm winds itself around your throat, too tightly for comfort, and when your eyes focus again, you see Django and King standing in shocked horror just outside the saloon.

The man holding you against his front calls, “Let me and Jake go and you can have the girl! Or else—” You suck in a gasp as you feel the cold barrel of a revolver dig painfully into your side, and you struggle against his hold.

You see King’s eyes fill with fury and pain at the sight of it, his fists flexing at his sides. Django, contrastingly, is calm and still as he stands before you, analyzing the situation with a careful eye. It seems like the first time that Django has ever been the collected one, compared to King.

“William—” King says slowly, but you can hear the way he’s nearing his breaking point. “Let the girl go, she is not part of this—”

“She sure as hell is, now!” the man holding you screams, and you wince as the gun prods you again. You finally notice now, another man standing only a few feet away, unarmed. He looks between all of you fearfully, malice radiating off of him.

“King, shut the fuck up,” Django hisses, not taking his eyes off the man keeping you in a tight chokehold. Panic begins to set in and you start to thrash in his grasp.

“Hold still, you bitch—!” the man grunts, his hand moving to cover your mouth. You shriek as his nails dig into the flesh of your cheek, and you strain, rearing back to elbow him hard in the stomach.

“Leave her alone!” King screams, his eyes huge and filled with terror as Django’s jaw clenches.

“King!” the other man yells, lifting his gun and letting off two rounds in quick succession. But you hear three.

The first man— Jake— drops to the earth in a moment, his corpse sprawled out and bloody.

You feel William’s hand slowly release your face, the marks his nails left already beginning to sting as blood pricks at the surface.

And then you feel the heat in your belly. Warm— no, hot. And wet— you glance down and blink a few times at the growing stain of crimson just below your ribs, on your left side. You don’t even feel the pain until you tip over.

The world must stop for a moment, or maybe you do, because when you open your eyes again, King is there, clutching you desperately to his chest as he leans over your body.

“Ach Gott, mein Gott, nein, nein,” King whispers, his green eyes traveling across your face and body, tears pricking at the edges of his vision as he takes it all in. The blood leaking from your side, the pale skin of your face, growing paler by the second. “Please, no,” he begs in a breaking tone, his hands firmly holding you.

“King—?” you manage to croak, your hand slipping upwards and finding purchase around his coat collar. You grip it like a lifeline, your pounding heart beginning to stutter. “Don’t go—!”

“I’m here, frauline,” he tells you, his eyes never leaving your face. “I’m staying right here, I swear it.”

“It— ah— it hurts,” you whimper, the pain now ripping through you like a whirlwind.

“I know,” King says, his normally smooth voice breaking a bit. “I know, and I am so sorry, mein Liebling.”’

“Don’t be,” you cry, emotion starting to choke you. “I— I should have—”

“No, schiesse, Y/N, this is not your fault,” he says, stopping you. He shifts you in his arms so your chests are nearly flush— you can feel his heart hammering his ribs as he speaks. “I should not have let you get close enough for this to happen. Curse every moment I let pass without telling you… I should have just told you last night—”

“Told me…?” For a moment, the pain is gone. All you feel is a sudden rush of hope. Of affection.

King has never cried in front of you. This time is no different. But he gets damn close. His voice shakes and his verdant eyes grow wet with unshed tears as he confesses at long last, “That I love you.”

He shuts his eyes now, the tears dropping to land in his beard. The last thing you feel like doing is crying, however. Even with your gaping wound, you feel like you could dance. You’re lighter than air.

But King isn’t finished. He shakes his head to recenter himself and chokes out, “More than love, Y/N— I adore you. I crave you. Do you have any idea how long I have waited— longed to hold you?” His hand, calloused, yet surprisingly clean, and oh-so gentle, comes up to push a strand of hair from your sweat-slicked temple.

You shiver at his soft touch and decide to throw caution to the wind. If this is to be your last moment alive, you’re going out taking what you’ve always wanted.

Still holding tightly to his collar, you pull hard, half yanking him down to your level and half lifting yourself to reach him— and slam your lips against his.

The world erupts in butterflies and sun bursts of every color and magnitude. King’s lips against your own feel so right; interlocking with yours in an explosion of warmth and taste and comfort. His tongue finds yours, and you let out a soft whimper into his mouth, startling him to pull away in concern.

He pants, his cheeks already a quiet rosy red and his eyes wide and glittery with affection as he gazes at you in silent wonder.

You wish you had more time, more energy, but your strength is waning. In lieu of another kiss, you manage, “King— I’ve always loved you, too.”

King blinks in apparent shock, an almost disbelieving chuckle pulled from his chest as a smile tugs the corner of his lip.

But he has no time to say more, because then you hear the scuffle of boots on sand and suddenly Django is there, too. He crouches low and inspects your body with a scrutinous gaze— though you can tell how desperately he doesn’t want you to know he’s scared.

“I need to see how bad it is,” the man says, almost to himself before looking up at you. You thank the heavens he isn’t mentioning the atrociously dramatic confession you just received, nor the equally impulsive kiss. “I gotta lift up your skirts, girl,” Django says sternly, his brown eyes pinning you in place as you hang in King’s arms.

King’s grasp on you tightens defensively for just a moment before he returns to his senses and nods briskly. He looks deep in your eyes before laying you down on your back in the sand and ripping off his coat to cover your soon-to-be-bare legs.

You hardly notice as Django carefully but urgently pulls the cotton layers of your dress above your hips, then a bit further to reveal your belly (thank goodness you weren’t wearing a corset), because your eyes are intently glued to the way King’s white shirt sticks to his shoulders and chest, sweat making the cloth form to his muscular body as he watches Django study your wound. You wish you could see past his vest, too, but now is really not the time to ask for a strip tease.

You blink your thanks as King lays his coat down over your legs— not scandalous, as you’re wearing bloomers that reach your mid thigh, but still more than you’ve ever been exposed to either of these men (aside from the aforementioned fateful incident at the river).

Django mutters something for you to prepare yourself before laying his hands on your side and checking the size of the shot. You cry out, and King’s hand instantly finds yours, letting you squeeze him as the pain subsides.

You open your eyes after a moment and are surprised to see Django smiling, teeth flashing and everything. He looks at you and smiles wider. “You're one lucky bitch, you know that?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulls your dress back down over your legs and uses King’s coat to wrap tightly around your injured waist.

“She’ll be just fine, we jus’ need a doc to stitch her up…” you hear Django telling King over you as you begin to drift off. The loss of blood has made you sleepy, unsurprisingly, and although it seems a bad idea, you just can’t help closing your eyes, just for a moment…

…

You wish you could remember the ride here— wherever you’ve ended up. You’re certain King held you the whole way while Django drove the wagon. Maybe you’re completely wrong, but the presence of a snoring Dr. King Schultz at your bedside confirms your suspicion that he hasn’t left your side since you were shot.

Speaking of which…

You shift with a wince and look under the covers to prod at your side curiously. It hurts, of course, but whatever drug they gave you sure has helped with the pain. Your head swims pleasurably, though perhaps that’s the after effects of your kiss with King.

You lie back down on the considerably cushy pillow and turn to gaze at the sleeping form of your beloved King Schultz. His body cocked sideways so he’s facing your bed, coat off, hat in his lap. His head rests on the back of the chair, brown furrowed deeply above his scrunched-shut eyes.

You decide to risk waking him from his gorgeous sleep and slide your hand upward to cup his bearded jaw.

As your fingers brush the stubble along his throat, King snaps awake, snorting gently as his hand snatches your wrist in an instinctive defensive response. His wide eyes pin you before recognition seeps in, and he softens his grasp on your wrist, bringing his other hand up instantly to gently cradle your palm.

“Y/N,” he breathes, sitting up and never taking his eyes from you.

You smile shyly, feeling bare beneath his gaze. Not that you'd exactly protest. King’s own lips turn upward as he stares at you.

“How do you feel?” he asks you concernedly, his hold soft and warm and strong. His grip doesn’t waver, like now that he has you, he’s not ever going to let go. And you want to bask in the safety of it forever.

You nod. “I’m alright, King. I’m doing just fine…”

King chuckles, in that way that reminds you of the way he broke down when he held you in his arms only yesterday. “My dear— you nearly stopped my heart with that little stunt of yours.”

“Stunt?” you echo, giggling at how suddenly nonchalant he sounds about the ordeal. Though you know he’s only trying to keep the conversation light.

His brows raise, and he plasters a mock-serious expression on his worn face. “Well, yes— didn’t you do that to get my attention?”

“You wish,” you snort, pumping his hands up and down once weakly with your own.

King smiles, warm and sweet, like honey. It’s contagious, it seems, because soon so are you.

“Y/N, truly— what possessed you to leave the horses yesterday, mein frauline?” King’s eyes grow genuinely serious, now, and you feel a twinge of guilt at the memory.

“I don’t know… I thought I was helping— it’s all so silly, now…” You hang your head, and King tuts gently, moving one hand to slowly lift your chin with his knuckle.

“We don’t need to discuss it if you don’t wish,” he tells you.

You argue, “No, I do! There’s— well, I’m afraid to ask you, but I need to know…”

The man before you blinks worriedly. “Anything.”

You feel a familiar sting at the back of your throat, tears threatening to choke you, but you force the words out around the lump. “Was it true?” You blink until your vision is clear again and continue, “What you said to me yesterday.”

King blinks, too, his eyes huge as he swallows thickly. You watch the bob of his throat and focus on the way he exhales softly, weighing his reply.

“It was a very tense moment and in tense moments I tend to say and do things that—”

“Was it true or wasn’t it?” you demand, pulling your hand out of his grasp, and you see the hurt enter his gaze instantly. You pin him with your burning eyes, not as furious as you’re desperate to hear him say he meant every word.

You sigh in relief as he stands from his chair to loom over your prone body, bringing his once-bloodstained hands up to cup your face. His eyes bore into yours as he mutters with a tone so deadly it makes your bones chill and alight simultaneously, “My dear, it was all true and more.” King’s green eyes flick across your face, studying every inch of you as he whispers, “If you were not so recently injured— and of course as long as thou doth not protest—” He momentarily smirked at his own quip before returning straight-lipped. “—I would take you apart in this bed right here and now. You deserve to be adored, mein leibe, every moment of every day.” Your breath stutters at his words, soaking up the sudden tears teasing the edges of his vision as he croaks out, “I was a fool for waiting this long to speak my truth, and for that— I offer my deepest apologies.” Without waiting for you to reply, King presses in to lock his lips onto yours. You gasp just before his teeth click against yours, his kiss firm and passionate, and speaking volumes. This kiss says you’re his, now. This kiss says he wants you, too.

You melt into it, arms wrapping around his shoulders and inadvertently toppling him off balance, dragging him down toward your body. He slams one hand down on the side of your head to keep himself from landing his weight on your injury, and you smirk playfully up at him through your lashes.

You take in the sight of his cheeks pink, his breathing heavy, hair falling in soft waves into his eyes as he hovers above you. You whisper, “I could get used to this.”

King sucks in a breath, embarrassment obvious in the way his face turns even redder, and he scolds gently, “Not until you are better, frauline.”

“I’d feel better if I wasn’t all alone in here,” you admit, and King’s brows raise again. You demonstrate your point by scooting to accommodate him and he pushes himself up and off of you, noticing the new space at your side in the bed. You lift the covers and pat the mattress, even, driving it home.

“Ah,” King realizes, his mannerisms screaming barely contained want as he wrings his hands. “I don’t think the nurses would be so keen—”

You shrug. “You kill thieves and murderers for a living,” you remind him, “and you’re scared of a few nurses?”

“I suppose you’re right.” King grins at your cheekiness and opens his arms wide. “Well, who can resist those charms of yours, you gorgeous devil?”

You giggle in victory as King kicks off his boots and pulls his suspenders down to hang at his sides as he takes the space next to you.

You sigh happily as you feel his body come flush to yours, and you’re quick to pin him with one arm draped over his belly, which softly heaves with each breath. “You’re perfect,” you whisper as you study his profile, fondling his beard with your curious hand.

King laughs softly. “My love, I don’t think you know what perfect means.” He turns and does his own fondling of your face, once again trailing his palm along your jaw. “Unless you have been studying your reflection in the mirror.”

“Don’t ever leave me,” you beg, suddenly, and King's eyes flicker with compassion and longing.

“Y/N,” he promises, leaning his head gently against your own. “I will do no such thing as long as I live.”

“And you’ll love me forever?” you ask hopefully.

Your heart thrums as a wicked, beautiful smile spreads across King’s face, nothing in his eyes but desperate devotion to you. “I swear, I’ll make up for every single second I ever let you doubt my affection for you, Liebling.”

With that, he kisses you once more, unlike the other times. This time it’s soft and tender and full of hope. It’s a promise. A promise that nothing will ever keep him from you again.

…

[faithinhome]

Neighbor Next Door - Stephen Strange/ Female OC

18+| minors dni

Summary: anna had always thought the doctor next door was attractive. and one interaction left her itching to get more of him.

Tags: age gap (25F & 40M), cheating (but not in the way you’d think), strong language, smut.

Chapter 16: Doctor Strange.

stephen didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to think about whatever it was that wanda was going on about. all he cared about right now was anna.

he texted sam as soon as he got home.

stephen: is anna okay?

sam responded instantly, which he was grateful for. sam always showed up when he was needed. he was lucky to have him.

sam: she said she was sad because no matter how competent men are they’re always the same 😬

stephen’s brows knitted together as he read the text.

stephen: did something happen?

sam: yeah she’s upset about the whole christine thing. and it reminded her of other bad times in the past that’s probably why she’s so upset.

stephen sighed to himself. there was nothing he could do or say to make it up to her.

stephen: i’m so sorry, sam.

sam: you gotta apologize to her man

stephen: i know. but she seems so distant and i don’t wanna push her. i just don’t wanna add on to her misery and hopelessness about men being a certain way.

sam: it’s probably just temporary.

that didn’t bring him any relief. his eyes stung and tears rolled down his cheeks. he kept his phone aside and cupped his face in his hands, sobbing softly.

he felt so hopeless. he didn’t know what to do.

the more he pondered over it, he realized there was no point in deliberately doing things to try and get her to forgive him. because this was just him trying to satisfy his ego once again. she would have to do that in her own time.

meanwhile, he should be nice to her just for the sake of being nice. because he cared. but he needed to give her space as well.

he needed to respect her and stop thinking about his own ego so much.

he let a couple days pass with no contact with anna, although he kept checking in on her through sam.

eventually, he decided maybe it was the right time to do something, extend a hand of friendship, or just to put a smile on her face.

that afternoon, anna was interrupted as she was working with a ring on her front door. she got up and answered the door, surprised to see a smiling young boy holding flowers.

“ms. anna bailey?”

“that’s me.”

“these are for you. from stephen strange.”

anna’s eyes widened and a soft blush tinted her cheeks. she grabbed the flowers and signed off, thanking the boy.

lavenders.

how did he know? she didn’t remember mentioning she loved lavenders.

she picked out the little card and read his note, a smile creeping up on her face.

beautiful flowers for the most beautiful woman i know. your scent smells of lavender. and i remember you telling me about your favourite lavender lotion and how much you love lavender early gray. so i took a shot in the dark and thought maybe you’d like this. this is not me asking you to forgive me. i just hope this puts a smile on your face.

- hopefully still your favourite doctor, strange.

anna’s eyes lit up and she couldn’t help squeal in delight. she was blushing profusely. how was he so sweet? she only remembered faintly ever mentioning the lavender lotion and tea. it was so quick she didn’t even remember telling him that. and he picked up on her scent?

anna carefully undid the bouquet and snipped off the ends of the flowers before filling up a vase with water and settling them inside. she admired them, a huge smile on her face.

it was pretty sad but she’d literally never received flowers before.

“alright doctor strange” she giggled to herself as she went to his contact. “i’ll unblock you, you smooth talking asshole.”

she loved that he called himself that, referencing to the very first time they’d spoken.

she unblocked the man and typed out a message, but she didn’t want to seem too excited just yet.

anna: thanks for the flowers!

she contemplated whether she should add on more but decided against it and just sent that text over, biting her lip.

stephen was tending to his own flowers. the ones anna had tossed to his feet in justifiable rage. he’d taken them inside that day and put them in a vase, grateful that they were still salvageable. he didn’t want them to go to waste. he too, had never received flowers in the entire 40 years he’d been alive. it wasn’t even something he ever thought about. he’d just accepted that men just didn’t typically receive flowers.

but he loved the ones anna got him.

he checked his phone as it buzzed, his chest fluttering in delight as anna’s name popped up.

he quickly read her e text, his smile growing wider.

it was a small text but definitely better than nothing.

he typed out his message carefully.

stephen: the pleasure’s all mine. i hope you like them. having you been feeling okay since the dinner?

anna debated whether she should respond. she decided not to. she’d gone back enough times. maybe he should do the back breaking now.

but she couldn’t get over how elated she felt over the flowers. she didn’t know he paid so much attention.

“oh stephen” anna sighed. why was he so perfect? but also such an idiot sometimes?

she was a little excited to see what he’d do next but she wondered if she’d still ever be able to get past the fact that he’d gone back to christine.

although in all fairness, she’d gone back to marc, too. they hadn’t had sex but they weren’t exactly being platonic with each other.

which reminded her, she had to get dressed and head to the club with marc tonight.

while anna was at the club, stephen had just left work and was sat in his car. he took some time to pretty much just sit there, decompressing after a long day of work.

he pulled out his phone and spread his legs, laying back as he scrolled mindlessly. it was becoming more and more of a problem.

he clicked on sam’s story. he wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it was definitely not a video of anna grinding against marc in a club.

stephen watched the story over and over, as if what was happening on the screen would change the more he watched it.

he clicked through his stories and noticed what club they were in.

stephen closed his phone and laid his head back, letting out a frustrated sigh. for a moment, he had a crazy idea. and it was to walk into that club and beg anna to take him back.

that was crazy, wasn’t it? crashing into the club like that?

stephen found himself thinking about it more and more.

was he really considering this? but then again, was it really that crazy?

it was absolutely crazy for him to invite christine over. why couldn’t he do something crazy if it meant fighting for anna?

besides, he knew he could treat anna better than marc ever could.

stephen knew if this went sideways, he wouldn’t even be able to blame it on alcohol. he was completely sober.

and yet he still found himself pulling up the club on his phone. it was only 20 minutes away and before he even knew it, stephen was driving.

stephen sighed as he parked his car.

he was too old for this. but anna was only 25. and some things would naturally be …different than they would be with older women.

he’d also realized anna was a lot younger and to be mindful of if her or her friends behaved in possibly immature ways. but despite all the potential differences and challenges, stephen just had a gnawing feeling that this was what he wanted.

stephen eventually stepped out and waited in the queue, straightening out his shirt.

he hoped he smelled decent.

stephen showed his ID and headed inside. the club was relatively smaller and so was the dance floor.

but it was extremely crowded. stephen decided to get a drink or two to build courage.

he eventually spotted sam on his second drink. he downed it and headed toward the corner of the dance floor, spotting marc and anna dancing together, marc’s hands clutching her bum.

and the way the sight of that made his heart sink, was all the confirmation he needed.

this was it.

it was now or never.

with a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he walked on to the dance floor and grabbed anna’s wrist, turning her around.

anna was taken aback. her breath hitched as she found himself against a tall, strong man. she was about to protest until the familiar scent hit her nose and she looked up to find a tired stephen gazing down at her.

anna was shocked that he was even here. had he been here this whole time? did sam invite him? what was happening?

stephen leant in and tucked anna’s hair behind her ear, “dance with me?”

anna felt shivers run down her skin. she was almost unable to respond. all she could do was nod.

he gently grabbed on to her waist and swayed with her, smiling as he noticed anna’s face redden.

“w-what are you doing here?” anna finallly managed to ask, gazing up at the man. he was dressed in a simple shirt and jeans but somehow still managed to look insanely hot.

“i-i saw sam’s story and i had to come here,” stephen spoke in a haze, the lights too bright against his eyes. before she could respond, he spoke up again, “a-anna?”

“yes, stephen?”

stephen closed his eyes and rested his forehead against anna’s as they moved slowly, even though the song playing around them was upbeat and loud.

but it was as if they were in their own world, and time moved slowly.

stephen was elated that she was responding.

“please forgive me” he spoke, his voice breaking.

but anna couldn’t hear him.

he leaned closer, and anna shivered in response, catching a whiff of his scent. “please forgive me, anna. i want you. you’re the only one i want.”

anna tilted her head into stephen’s warm breath, feeling her core pulsating at how close they were.

“i can’t stand this anymore” stephen confessed. “i wanna be with you. i don’t wanna play any games anymore. you’re all i want. i’m sorry i made you feel any other way.”

stephen knew this would be a lot more romantic if there wasn’t blaring music around them and he didn’t have to practically shout into her ear. but he truly couldn’t hold it back anymore. he’d go insane without her, thinking about her spending the night in another man’s arms. a man that didn’t even deserve her love.

anna only responded by grabbing on to stephen’s shirt and pulling him flush against her body. “w-what are you staying, stephen?”

just say it, anna thought to herself. please just say it.

“i want you to be mine. i wanna take care of you, show you just how special you are. i want to be there in more than just one way. i want- i need you around.”

“w-what about christine?”

it broke stephen’s heart that he’d planted this seed in her head. “i’m so sorry, anna. i- i don’t want her. she wanted me and that… made me feel validated because i thought i’d lost you. but it only made me realize even more how much i didn’t want anyone else but you. i felt nothing. not even the slightest bit of a spark. all i could think about was how much she wasn’t you.”

anna’s heart was pounding against her chest as she listened intently.

“do you wanna know what made me decide to give her a divorce?” stephen asked.

“what?” anna pulled back and looked up at the man

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you” stephen confessed. “you were all i thought about 24/7 and that was when i realized i didn’t love christine. and that i wanted you, badly. but i got scared, anna. i didn’t wanna move too fast and i’m so sorry.”

“stephen, i-“ anna struggled to find the right words. she’d never imagined they would come to this. where stephen would openly express his feelings for her and tell her he wanted her and no one else.

anna was in a trance. all she could do was soak everything in. she hadn’t expected this night to take such a turn. she realized she should probably respond. she stuck with telling him the truth. “s-stephen, fuck, i want you too. but can you give me some time to think about this?”

“absolutely” stephen nodded. “i just needed to tell you.”

he then let anna go but she grabbed his hands and laced them around her waist before cupping the back his neck and pulling him into a hasty kiss.

“whoa!” marc’s eyes widened as he watched the two kiss.

he looked over at sam who looked so happy, as if it was him being kissed so passionately.

“have they always been… a thing?” marc asked sam.

sam shrugged. “it’s… complicated.”

“well, fuck me!”

sam glanced at marc and eyed him. he knew marc was kidding but if he wasn’t… sam would consider it. but that was for another day.

he looked back at the two lovebirds, watching them still engulfed in a kiss and rolled his eyes. but he was absolutely elated for his best friends.

“take me home, stephen,” anna murmured against the kiss, the man’s eyes widening.

“oh r-right now?” stephen pulled back a little, studying anna’s face.

“p-please? or is it not the right time?”

“anytime you ask is the right time,” stephen responded before pulling anna in for another kiss, his hand snaking into her hair. he bunched it up and tugged at it lightly, his pants tightening as anna moaned into the kiss.

“let’s go,” stephen breathed out as he pulled back. “now.”

anna smiled and looked back at marc and sam. “uh, we’re probably gonna head out.”

sam giggled and rolled his eyes. “surprise surprise.”

“sorry,” anna blushed, glancing between the two.

stephen was not sorry.

“i’m just kidding” sam laughed, waving a dismissive hand at them. “go, shoo.”

anna giggled and turned, leading stephen out of the club.

stephen was going to initially ignore marc but he couldn’t stop himself from nodding his way with a smirk as he followed behind anna.

he hoped marc knew his place by now.

they hurried out and into stephen’s car.

anna wanted to just do it in the car but when stephen mentioned that he’d just had a shift at the hospital, she had a whole another idea in her mind.

she wondered if stephen would be up for roleplay?

stephen pulled anna in for a kiss the moment they stumbled into his house, tossing his keys …somewhere. he wasn’t really looking.

stephen pulled back and lifted anna up bridal style, causing her to squeal as he carried her up the stars.

anna giggled as she looked up at the man and how effortlessly he carried her.

“stephen?”

“yes, princess?”

anna blushed. “can i like, be your.. patient?”

stephen looked down at her as he stepped into his bedroom, shutting the door close with his foot. “what do you mean?”

“like, roleplay?” anna bit down on her lip, she was blushing profusely and it made stephen smile.

“oh.” stephen placed her down gently on the bed. “and what exactly are your symptoms, ma’am?”

anna’s eyes widened. were they already…starting?

stephen turned and began to slowly take off his shirt, smirking over his shoulder as he tugged at his sleeves. “i hope you don’t mind? it’s been really hot in here since you walked in.”

anna blushed, biting her lip as she scanned his bare back. he was so toned and so strong. she couldn’t wait to have this man on top of her.

stephen tossed his shirt aside and grabbed a chair, dragging it over to side of the bed, smiling at anna. “well, then?”

anna scanned stephen’s bare torso before looking up at him, arousal pooling in her stomach.

why did he have to be so fucking hot?

“i’ve just been experiencing so much pain, doc,” anna started, her eyes catching the tent in stephen’s trousers.

“where would you say you’re experiencing this pain?”

anna bit her lip thoughtfully before reaching up with her hand and unzipping her hoodie just slightly, as stephen’s gaze followed. “in my chest, doctor. a little in my stomach.” she ran her fingers down her body and down to her thigh, grazing gently against the skin, smiling as stephen’s gaze followed. “and up my thighs. do you think you can help me, doctor strange?”

stephen looked up to meet anna’s eyes, before his gaze fell back on her chest. “matter of fact, i can. why don’t you start by laying down?”

anna obeyed, lifting her legs up and resting against his bed.

stephen stood up and hovered by the bed, scanning her clothed body.

“let’s start with examining the pain on your thighs, shall we?” stephen smirked as he sat down on the bed beside anna, and lifted her knee up gently before trailing his fingers up her inner thigh and underneath her skirt.

he trailed his fingers up to her underwear, using both his hands to spread her her legs farther apart.

anna whimpered at the first touch to her core.

“mm, so wet already?” stephen tilted his head, studying anna’s reaction as he pulled her panties aside before running his thumb against her clit.

“fuck” anna whimpered out. “right there, doctor.”

he grazed his thumb down to her hole before carefully slipping a finger in, causing a soft moan to fall off anna’s lips. “oh, fuck.”

“does that help, princess?”

“y-yes, doctor.”

“good girl.”

stephen thrusted a few times with just his finger before he pulled out. anna was already breathless at this point.

“let’s get rid of any obstacles in the way.” stephen murmured before starting to take off anna’s skirt and tossing it aside.

he moved to start unzipping anna’s jacket. “now, for the chest pain.”

anna assisted stephen in getting rid of her jacket. he grazed a gentle finger against her tattoo, before letting his fingers graze down between the valley of her breasts, against her tube top. “who gave you that tattoo?”

“a-a friend.”

stephen’s jaw clenched. “what friend?”

“angela,” anna spoke up quickly. “she’s a friend of um, marc’s.”

“ah, marc” stephen spoke up, trailing his fingers down anna’s bare stomach. “he’s lucky it wasn’t him.”

anna just stayed quiet as she bit down on her lip. she loved possessive stephen.

“you know what i think, princess?”

“yes, doctor?”

“i think i need to tie you up for this examination.” anna’s eyes widened. her core twitched at the thought. she would absolutely fucking love to be tied up.

“yes, doctor.”

“is that okay with you?” stephen asked as he looked into anna’s eyes, his expression soft.

“oh yes.” anna breathed out. “more than okay.”

“do you wanna choose a safe word?”

“um… clouds?”

stephen smiled. “clouds, it is.”

stephen leant in to kiss anna on the lips before trailing his kisses down her neck and down her cleavage.

he pulled back and helped anna get rid of her tube top.

he stood up to go to his drawer, pulling out a long silk handkerchief.

“this should do,” stephen mumbled as he stretched it to check its sturdiness. “arms above your head and put ‘em together for me, princess.”

anna obeyed, and stephen tied her wrists together before tying them to his bedpost, once anna expressed that she was okay with the intensity.

stephen watched anna as he walked around the bed, his pants uncomfortably tight. “look at you. all mine for the night.”

anna blushed and nodded. “all yours.”

stephen undid anna’s panties and crawled over her now naked body, running his hand down her waist as he kissed her passionately, using one arm to hoist himself against the bed.

anna hooked her leg slightly up against stephen’s, rubbing it against his.

he cupped at anna’s breast, thumbing at her nipple as he trailed kisses down anna’s neck.

anna tilted her head, whimpering as she felt stephen gently biting and suckling at her skin. “oh, stephen.”

stephen loved the way his name fell off anna’s lips, especially when she was so aroused.

he began to roll his hips against hers, earning an even louder whimper.

he continued pressing kisses down her neck and against her collarbone.

he moved lower, leaving kisses down her breasts.

“fuck- stephen” anna whined in arousal, her back arching as he gently lapped at her nipples before biting down slightly.

stephen squeezed at anna’s waist as he moved on to her other breast, giving it just as much attention as anna began to moan and slightly shiver under stephen, feeling wetness trickle down between her legs.

only stephen could have this affect on her.

“i love it when you do that” anna breathed out as stephen almost expertly sucked on her breast, teething slightly.

stephen hummed in response and moved down her stomach, leaving little marks on her skin. “does that help the pain, princess?”

“yes, doctor” anna moaned softly, gazing down as she watched stephen.

her breath hitched as he trailed down to her core, his warm breath sending shivers up her spine.

he tilted his head, pressing soft kisses against the inside of her thigh, trailing it down and back up, before licking at her clit lightly. he locked eyes with anna as he licked up the mess dripping down her opening.

“oh fuck, stephen.” anna oved how nasty he was.

stephen pulled back and started to get off the bed. “wait here. i think have the perfect cure.”

anna noticed the tiny wet spot by his crotch, holding back a smirk. that right there would have been the perfect cure.

she waited patiently as stephen left, shivering slightly.

he came back in with a small tray with a single piece of ice cube on it. he placed it on the bedside table and got rid of his pants, anna watching his every move. her heart beat picked up as his cock sprung free. she could practically drool at the sight of him already leaking.

he crawled back on top of her, grabbing the ice in between his teeth.

anna’s eyes widened as he strategically grazed the ice against her neck. he looked up, watching anna for her reaction as he slowly went lower and reached her breasts.

something about stephen looking up through his lashes at her, ice in his mouth grazing her skin and the single strand of his hair falling against his eyes, it was one of the hottest things on the planet. she could tell he took pride in the reactions he got out of anna.

he circled the ice around her breasts before rubbing it against her already erect nipples.

anna let out a string of moans, her toes curling and back arching slightly.

he trailed it down her stomach, leaving a trail of moisture.

he eventually reached her core, dragging the ice against it as anna moaned loudly, her back arching off her bed. “fuck, doctor.”

he eventually tossed the ice aside before lapping at her folds, earning a gasp from anna.

“mm so perfect, princess” stephen murmured as he pulled back and ran his fingers against her core, slipping one in and starting to thrust it slowly, running his other hand up her body to cup at her breast, squeezing gently.

he added another finger, anna’s whimpers turning into moans as he kept going, and adding a third finger.

“f-fuck. stephen. need you. please.” anna begged, throwing her head back.

stephen pulled his fingers out and licked her wetness off before placing a kiss below her navel. “anything for you, princess.”

he straightened up and grabbed his erect penis in his hand, rubbing his pre cum against his length, anna watching intently.

“did i do that for you, doc?” anna asked, her voice sultry and eyes heavy.

“always, baby” stephen mumbled as he crawled above her, rubbing his cock slightly against her opening. “you get me so hard for you. i could fuck you all day. and it wouldn’t be enough.”

anna almost went to wrap her arms around stephen but ended up tugging at the cloth holding her wrists back, that reminded her she was still tied up.

stephen leant in and kissed anna roughly, biting gently on her lip as he began to guide his penis in with his hand, slipping in slowly.

anna let out a soft moan, “oh, doctor.”

stephen kept pushing in and anna let out a broken whimper, “w-wait.”

stephen stopped, and pulled back to look at her. “are you okay, baby?”

anna gazed up at stephen, blushing at the pet name. “yes. just. just stay there?”

stephen nodded. he leant in carefully and pressed kisses against anna’s face, smiling as she giggled softly.

he was so glad he could finally be more intimate with her instead of having to avoid her eyes everytime they had sex. “you’re breathtakingly beautiful, anna.”

anna blushed, blinking up at the man. “you make me glow.”

when anna was ready, stephen slipped in and bottomed out completely, pausing once again before beginning to slowly thrust into her.

“oh, yes” anna moaned as she threw her head back.

and stephen couldn’t resist, he leant in, leaving hasty kisses against her neck.

he sped up his thrusts, grunting softly against her skin as he felt her walls tighten around him.

“such a good girl” stephen grunted as he shifted slightly and went back to pounding harder into anna, her body being pushed against the mattress as she moaned loudly. “so good for me. you take me so well, princess. look at you.”

“fuck, daddy” anna’s back was completely arched off the bed, her skin flush against stephen’s.

she shivered as she felt stephen holding her waist tightly, fingers digging in.

“s-so good daddy. so big” anna mumbled incoherently between her moans.

stephen quickened his pace and tilted his hips a little so he would go deeper, anna’s moans getting progressively louder and more frequent.

he brought a hand over to flick at her clit, anna’s legs starting to shake.

“f-fuck. daddy. everytime.”

stephen figured she meant he made her come everytime and just chuckled in response.

“look at you, princess. it’s like you were made to take my cock.” stephen let out a soft grunt as he kept going, panting softly and feeling himself near his orgasm as well. “i love it when you’re falling apart on my dick.”

anna didn’t know how someone could feel so good. it was as if stephen had a phd in fucking your brains out. every thrust seemed to hit the spot. she didn’t even care if she looked pathetic completely falling apart beneath him. every inch of her body was filled to the brim with immense pleasure. she wondered if this man was some sort of a sex god.

“oh my god” anna let out a broken moan, the muscles in her abdomen tightening as she felt stephen thrust so deep inside of her.

“that’s right baby” stephen panted, sweat trickling down his face. “come for me, princess. show me how much of a good girl you are. daddy’s little slut. you make daddy feel so good.”

anna screamed out stephen’s name as she came. his dirty talk always sent her over the edge.

her body practically convulsed as stephen kept going, moaning as he finally came inside of her, panting loudly.

stephen almost fell forward, feeling anna’s legs shake underneath him.

“god, i can’t believe you’re mine” stephen panted against anna’s neck, turning his face to place a gentle kiss on one of the many hickies he’d given her.

…

a/n: yay!! no more bullshit pining and arguments. he finally did it! please let me know what you thought! and let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from my tag list. see you all next week as we begin a whole new chapter of the story! (no pun intended, i swear).

index for the fic: Neighbor Next Door

TAGLIST

@kentucky-criedfricken @sherlux @evelynrosestuff @thewinterpoet2 @lokiego @cemak @chocokitty @whore4sherlockholmes @thegardenerofeden @partiallyinfluencial @do-double-g @vi0letdaze @justobsessedwithyou @kezstarzz @444errorr @aphroditesdilemma

[buswilligan]

i realized i never posted this page from my sketchbook that i drew in 2018 lol anyway here’s my mc io w some of tha boys 

[shadowsinger11]

Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

[writing-in-april]

I Know.

Poe Dameron x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Poe has a confession to make to Reader during the heat of the battle on Exegol.

A/N: This is my fic for day one of Oscar Isaac week 🥰 I honestly had a hard time choosing a favorite character cause I love so many of them (namely Poe, Llewyn, Santiago and Nathan) but I decided to go with the character that I’ve written the most for 🥰 I love my hot headed pilot- Poe 😊 Thanks for reading and Requests are open.

Warnings: Canon typical violence & Threat of character death

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.4K

Exegol was a mystery I didn’t care to unfold, I just knew I had to defeat it and then escape it. The battle was the most brutal one I had ever been in. The first order showed no mercy against its foe’s in battle, but the final order was here to decimate everything in its path.

I was deep in the heart of the battle with my squadron, when I heard a distinct voice call out for me over the comms. It belonged to my best friend of many years, Poe. We had been through thick and thin, I had known him since both of our days serving in the New Republic Navy, we had even defected over to the resistance together.

We had already done a sort of goodbye when we were just about to take off towards Exegol in preparation for one of us possibly not coming back. I still felt like there were many things left unsaid between the two of us and I wished my past self would have told Poe how I really felt. It seems as though Poe had words left unsaid to me as well.

“I love you!” I heard through the intercom of my ship, I almost missed it because of the constant bombardment of bolts coming towards my x-wing. My heart was soaring with adrenaline and it further leaped high in my chest in response to the words that were shouted out from Poe’s mouth. Even though the battle that was raging around us was more important he spoke again, this time with less desperation in his voice and with a more resigned tone, “I need you to know that I love you, I should have said it long ago.”

His resigned tone had a meaning I was unable to decipher in the heat of the moment, unable to discern whether or not it was because he thought he would die or if he thought I would not reciprocate. He was an idiot if he thought I didn’t feel the same, in fact the only reason I had never plucked up the courage to say something to the man that I often jokingly called a ‘nerfherder’ was because we were in the middle of the war. Maybe I was the idiot for never saying something, I realized I’d rather have a short time with him then no time at all.

I found myself wishing that we were exchanging the words face to face and not seemingly miles apart as I gulped down a breath to find my bearings so I could say the words back to him. I wished he had told me sooner, truthfully though I was not surprised at all, he always had terrible timing. Hopefully I’d get a chance to kiss him once our ships had landed and not be cursed to hear his confession without knowing what his lips felt on mine. “I know, Poe. I know you love me and I love you too.”

All I was able to hear in response to my words was a sigh of relief before all the comms cut out and we were free falling through the atmosphere of Exegol. All I could do was scream for Poe as I fell to what I assumed was my death.

——

The jungle moon of Ajan Kloss where the resistance had its base was much hotter than the harsh cold of space. Normally, I would’ve found the heat to be suffocating to me, but I found it a welcome reminder of the fact that I had actually made it out of the battle alive when I started to climb out of my x-wing.

When my feet hit the soft ground my legs couldn’t hold me upright and I fell down to my knees out of exhaustion and relief. The damp jungle dirt was surely staining my flight suit, hopefully I wouldn’t need to go up into space for a while. I loved flying, but feeling the ground underneath me was more valuable to me at this time.

All around me people were celebrating, most were still in deep embraces with their loved ones though I had noticed some had already broken out the stash of mainly Corellian whiskey that the pilots hid on base. It was normally used for when we were all in a somber mood, in a need to escape the horrors of the war. It was nice to see it used for its intended purpose, celebration.

Everyone was all off in their own little worlds celebrating with the people they cared about most and were reunited with. Unfortunately also not everyone had someone to celebrate with in the distance I noticed Karé standing by her x-wing looking more lost than I had ever seen her before. I knew that she had heard and had probably seen her husband, Snap, perish in the battle as had many other important people.

I got up off the damp ground not bothering to dust off my knees before making my way over to my crying friend. As I made my way over to her as quickly as I could with my wobbly knees I thought about my person that I could’ve lost in the battle. Once we had regained contact with everyone I was glad to hear Poe’s voice over the comms again, but I still hadn’t seen him since I landed. A pang of fear shot up through me that I had to push down, I could find Poe later right now I needed to comfort my friend.

I engulfed her in a deep hug as soon as I was close enough to reach out to her. We stood there for a while as her tears dampened the right shoulder of my flight suit.

“There’s someone who needs you more than I do.” She said, with a watery smile after we let go of our embrace. I assumed that the rest of the pilots must have also heard the confession between Poe and I. Of course he hadn’t opened a private channel on comms for his confession, he was always the dramatic one.

As I was about to make a remark back to Karé I heard my name being called throughout the celebrating crowd. I looked around to find the source of the voice that I knew was definitely Poe. When I saw a man with a flight suit that matched mine with a head of messy dark curls I gave Karé a soft smile before bounding over to him, not caring about my still wobbly knees. The way we charged at each other and met with a crushing hug was sickeningly cliche, but I didn’t care all that much since I was in the arms of Poe.

“You have horrible timing.” Were the first words I could find myself to say once I had finally reached him. The sweat dripping off of the both of us doing nothing to hinder how deeply we pulled each other close.

The heat of the crushing hug was even more comforting than the heat of Ajan Kloss. It mattered more to me to be alive in the presence of Poe than to be alive and alone on this desert moon.

“I know.” His cheeky smile was evident to me even though I couldn’t see his face as it was tucked into my neck. Moving my hand away from the back of his neck I ran it through his curls before bonking him on the head lightly in jest. Giggling a little he let his grip on me loosen a little to pull his head out of the crook of my neck and look at me.

The smile on his face dropped a little as he stared at my face for a few moments as if he was inspecting me to make sure I was real. After I had seemingly passed his inspection he brought his hands up from my torso to caress my cheeks, then bringing me forward into a sweet yet also desperate kiss. I sighed deeply into the kiss in relief, I could confirm that he was just as real too and I finally knew what his lips felt like on mine. The kiss only further confirmed what I had said to him, I know that I love him.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Poe Dameron/SW (new tag list):

[violet-t-9]

Check in on my (not very realistic) wish list for episode 138

1. Nobody dies in the battle against Cree, even temporarily (looking at you, squishy wizards). Everybody survives and defeats her relatively easily.

Ayyye I mean Cree was one vs. 6 basically and of course it was easy enough, I expected this. Bye Cree, I won’t really miss you... WAIT she got controlled after death?? Well, the actual Cree fight was still easy so I’m counting this. The flesh monster version also took less than like, 20 seconds in-game time to beat lol.

2. Caleb or Beau’s eye power come into play whether for them or against them during the combat (telepathy also counts).

Heyyyy Caleb and Beau could pick up on the radio! That is helpful- oh he turned Cree into a flesh monster using the eyes... oh NO everyone has eyes now except Jester and Yasha. Group telepathy could be useful?? I guess??

3. Beau and Caleb discover the third function of their eyes if there is one (besides true sight and telepathy).

Nope I have no idea. I’m assuming that seeing through illusions and dark vision are separate at this point. That’s fine considering the huge twist that almost all of them have eyes now, like hello?? Caleb also wondered if he has a fourth power now, which we still don’t know about.

4. The party gets some much needed rest, even a short one, after defeating Cree (Bonus: heroes’ feast).

Hey the time shunt thing worked! PERFECTLY! With a 30 and a 24! I love two wizards, my absolute beloved. THANKS ESSEK (and Caleb, but Essek mostly).

5. This is a long shot but still hoping for any mention/sighting of Yussa.

Thanks Caleb for mentioning Yussa! Also Beau was able to try to connect to Yussa thanks to the eyes too! What a cool moment. Also thanks everybody for agreeing to help him lol. Caleb banished him! They saved him! Yayyyyy.

6. More nightmarish body horror and screaming from the cognouza citizens (look, listen, I loved last episode okay, Matt is awesome, horror is my jam).

Yes for the intestine corridor and flesh puddles, also for Cree transformation, also for the threshold crest vault mouth opening thing and for literally everything else in this episode need I explain? As a student of science I am very much enjoying the weird physiology connections with the Cognouza.

7. They meet another member of the Somnovem who offers more information.

Jester’s Calm emotion what a queen, they did meet a Somnovem. Wow I never thought I’d find eternal love so creepy but thanks Gaudius. Gaudius is apparently against Fastidan and Culpasi, nice. Good to know that the Somnovem Omega still does not get along lol. 

8. Beau and Yasha’s PDA or power couple moments (bonus: they talk about mind control, the eyes, or feelings).

OH WOW Yasha has IDEAS about Beau wearing a red cape does she now lol, not subtle at all as expected. Get a room you guys! Not much talking can be done at this point, but nice.

9. Fjord and Jester’s conversation or domesticity (bonus: they talk about hope for the future).

“All we care about is love and unity” LMAO JESTER taking your chance to smooch as much as possible. I’m counting this moment you cannot convince me otherwise.

10. Artagan/Sprinkle comes into play/is mentioned and interaction with Jester.

Yep, they both talked (well, hissed in one case) with Jester. Artagan thought about them going to the feywild too! Fun.

11. Obligatory wish for Essek’s fancy dunamancy or magical items (Bonus: we get to see more high-damage AOE offensive spells).

Magic missile again! At least that will never miss. Sad that he can’t do AOE ever with the party around lol. ALSO THE TIME SHUNT BY THE TWO WIZARDS! The 30 from Essek (dunamancy master indeed!) and the dirty 24 from Caleb, NICE.

12. Obligatory wish for Caleb’s polymorph spell on himself or a party member.

Jester’s polymorph spell was cool too! Jestape? Japester?? I like Japester. Polymorph! Jester’s interactions are also my beloved. It’s not Caleb’s spell, so I’m not counting this one.

13. The party tracks down Lucien and tries to reach him by mentioning Molly.

Well, they attempted to track down Lucien, but really it’s the other way around. 

14. Obligatory wish for Essek’s room in the tower (it will stay until it happens).

Nope, as expected.

15. Obligatory wish for Cad being a MVP in and out of combat also for him to use decompose more on the city, I’m curious to see what happens.

That path to the grave, what a MVP move Cad. TWO TIMES! TWO TIMES! For the HDYWTDT from Veth too! I knew it, Cad is a combat genius. Also nice blight on the fleshy ceiling. Also plane shift to the fire plane! Also that curse word speech what a king.

16. Veth one-on-one RP interaction with any other party member - we had some good tag teams recently, like Veth and Beau, Veth and Yasha, Veth and Essek... I want to see more!

We don’t really have time for RP because this episode was super action-packed but we did have a bunch of nice short moments!

17. Yasha or Fjord being absolutely freaked out/creeped out by the city.

Well to be fair EVERYBODY was super creeped out, so...

18.  The empire siblings don’t get another red eye (well, hopefully this will happen if they won’t get a full rest).

Well ironically, Beau and Caleb DID NOT get another red eye during the whole party members gaining red eyes scene- Nope, Caleb got one more. Honestly, pretty excited and anxious at the same time.

19. Somebody check in on Essek’s mental/physical state because for a newbie adventurer he is doing suspiciously well - I wonder if he is just desensitized at this point.

Poor Essek was very physically hurt and also shook shook by Cree being transformed... so not entirely desensitized. He even failed the wisdom saving throw OH NO HE IS GETTING EYES ISN’T HE CALLING IT RN READ IN BOOKS I know what book is kinda associated with a wisdom save. Update: I KNEW IT, and I don’t care that nobody will believe me that I called it. Still sad that nobody really got to role play much, but I’m enjoying the action.

20. Caleb uses more fire or his customized spells (last episode’s awesome Widogast’s web of fire got me missing all his unique spells).

Disintegrate followed by CAT’S IRE HYPE and the clutch immovable object used for the first time what’s sexier than wizards NOTHING.

21. Fjord being the leader of the group in any way or just does something very impressive (go Fjord Tough).

Nice hexblade curse and triple Eldritch Blasts Fjord! Warlock powers let’s go! Also, nice counterspell! That divine smite + crit star razor oof that’s such a beautiful 80 damage. VERY impressive indeed.

22. We get to see new spells/abilities/features gained by their level-up! That will probably not come into play until a long rest, but one can hope.

MIND BLANK AT 8TH LEVEL what a perfect spell for Caleb. They got a long rest thanks to the mini Beacon! I love it. Jester and Cad showed off some spells as well!

23. Lucien physically reacting to the party’s attempts to bring up Molly’s memories/moments and showing confusion/hesitation.

Well they didn’t get to try anything really, Lucien spent most of the time doing his cool, dramatic and drawn-out villain monologue thing, also his maniac laughter scared me way more than the scream from last episode.

24. Obligatory wish for everyone to remain relatively happy and alive by the end of the episode except Cree (I have a feeling that Lucien ain’t dying this episode), and the episode ends on a terrifying cliffhanger as always.

Rip Cree, and what do you know, cliffhanger! Gosh I love this show.

Bonus:

Nice dimension door Jester, she is SO on task and such a key player in these crucial moments!! What a queen, it’s thanks to her (and Caleb, but it’s her idea first!) that they got to the crest so quickly and got rid of it. I repeat, QUEEN.

Veth’s first shot AND the final shot were awesome in terms of damage, rogues am I right?

Wow what a confrontation. I thought Lucien was all for the Somnovem but apparently he is... just super chaotic?? And wants to rule them all?? What was that all about? Lucien just gets more and more complex and I’m conflicted because now they might need to fight him, the city, or both. This is getting super complicated and I can’t wait for the next episode.

Well guys, this session made me scream in joy and also feel what it’s like to be high on adrenaline. The episodes just keep getting better and better. I literally could not care less if this is the final arc - if it is, it’s a damn good one. I love the cast so much, I love critical role so much. I wish it could be Thursday every day of the week!

[lycanthrop-ee]

Ghosting - Empty House

A/N: !!!!! It’s here! I’m so, so pumped for this- welcome to the Empty House AU! This is the first piece of content I’m publishing and it’s a one-shot from a bigger universe, but it’s also absolutely a stand-alone fic. It’s a self-indulgent, analogical-centric human AU that’s has been floating around my hollow skull for months now, so there’s a lot of doodles backed up if any of yall would like to see that ;) There will be an AU taglist, but I also have an individual writing taglist!

Synopsis: Logan has finally moved out of his childhood home into a family-sized house where he plans to finish college online. His simple plans are complicated when a strange, sad-looking boy starts showing up outside...

Word count: 4,306

Ships: Endgame romantic Analogical

CW: (spoilers) Pre-plot major character death, swearing, anxiety attack, very mildly implied previous parental abuse, be safe kiddos and ask to tag!

The first time Logan saw the boy was the day he moved in. 

The empty house had stood hollowly beside its driveway, Logan feeling small without his siblings or parents or any of his rarely acquired friends by his side. He wasn’t a sociable person, but he’d always been surrounded by noise at home, and lots of it… he’d never been in a house as still as the one he stepped into that day. The dark wooden floors were cleanly swept, except for the corners and trimmings which had little fields of grey dust dotting the deep brown. The refrigerator made a hungry humming noise, protesting its suddenly empty shelves- Logan knew a family of four had lived there before, and that they’d given him a pretty hefty discount on the house. That’s all he knew.

The floor in the entrance hall creaked underfoot, and the walls seemed to turn away as they saw him- not who they’d been expecting, not worth their attention. That was fair. 

The house had three bedrooms and two floors- altogether a strange layout. Two of the bedrooms were downstairs, situated in a small hallway off the kitchen, and one was tucked into a little corner upstairs, where the only other rooms consisted of a bathroom and a large, carpeted playroom that was mostly empty now. Logan figured it would have been a favorite of the kids when they were smaller, but now the only furniture was a faux leather couch and a television, as well as a couple of out-of-place armchairs that had never gotten much human use from the look of their fur-covered seats.

With just him taking up the whole house, he hardly saw the point in using the upstairs bedroom. The house felt big already- rationally, it would be better to localize downstairs. All he really needed was his room, the kitchen, and the little living room next to the entrance. That was enough for him- in fact, even that was too silent. He missed the screams of his brothers as affectionately as anyone could- which honestly varied day to day. 

Today, he was disproportionately affectionate. 

It paired well with the fear.

Logan was just about ready to start tearing himself apart over the family members he’d left behind- the only ones that mattered- when the boy caught his eye.

The day had been gray and dreary, the trees heavy with the prospect of rain and the air cool enough to promise it, but it had only started drizzling in the few minutes since Logan had been inside. The sky had seemed to darken remarkably quickly, especially strange without the presence of thunder or even heavy rain, and in the middle of it all was a lanky figure who looked for all the world like a member of the fae.

He stood at the side of the road, looking in the house’s general direction- in Logan’s general direction, although he was sure the other wouldn’t be able to see through his windows. His face would’ve been hidden by the dark hair poking out from under his hood were he not so painfully pale, and his brown irises were visible to Logan only because of the piercing contrast of his skin. 

His jacket was oversized, but his beanpole frame managed to show through regardless. The rainwater gradually weighed it down until the boy looked almost a skeleton, Logan frozen watching him for what could have been minutes- and then the frame heaved in a breath and ambled stiffly away. 

Obviously Logan’s first worries had to do with an unhinged white male teenager breaking into his new house- the one he had full responsibility for and few precious savings to repair. It was irrational, he knew, but his second thought was that the boy hadn’t looked capable of any harm- or really of much at all. He looked weighed down, depressed, and Logan was sure that it wasn’t just the water soaking his sweatshirt. The boy had looked sad. 

And he continued to. Frighteningly often, the teenager appeared outside Logan’s house. Each time he looked quite the same: above average height but considerably shorter than Logan himself, skinny, and almost other-worldly in his strange mish-mash of dark eyes and pearly flesh. While Logan knew that his first sight of the boy had been strange in the sudden change of weather, he could- and completely intended to- count it as a coincidence of Florida’s strange climate.  

He settled into a sort of pattern, although the boy didn’t seem to follow one. Each time he saw the figure outside his house, he would take a break from his endless work. He’d make himself some tea, sit in the window, and wait for the boy to leave. This way, he told himself, if he tried anything, Logan would be there to intercept him. He chose not to think about the possibility of it happening at night or while he was away, and he kept far away from the crime shows he’d occasionally enjoyed in the past. This way, too, he could get a good look at his visitor each time. It was almost as though he was keeping tabs on him, and at the tail end of his fear came a strange protectiveness. 

It was after about a month of this- Logan looking for job applications and living off of his savings, edgewise- that Logan pulled into his driveway at one of the key moments of his life. The boy stood unsteadily at the side of the road, sweatshirt ever-present even in the heat. Logan got out of his car carefully, his heart in his throat- though, really, did any part of him think the boy capable of much at this point? 

He’d have expected the kid to run as soon as he’d pulled in, but when Logan looked him over he saw the boy studying him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It struck Logan anew in their close proximity how thin he was.

Almost thoughtlessly, he started across the lawn towards the boy. He had to remind himself to uphold formalities- no matter how many times they’d stared at each other across the way, they’d never once spoken. He didn’t know this kid, not really- and now it occurred to him that the boy was more than a kid. He couldn’t be much younger than himself. Logan halted a few respectful steps from the boy, who eyed him strangely.

Close up… he looked, somehow, the same as he did from across the lawn. His features were simple, small mouth and nose easy to overlook for his huge, shadowed eyes. He really did remind one of a fairytale, or even- perhaps more accurately- a Tim Burton. 

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but paused for a moment. They watched each other.

“Would you like to come in for tea?” He finally inquired, the words escaping him overly familiar. The boy raised his eyebrows almost undetectably, seeming confused, and Logan caught himself almost leaning forward in anticipation of the other’s first words to him.

“You’re not Patton,” the boy said, voice just above a murmur and hoarse. Logan hesitated, confused, and studied the expression that would’ve been bored were it not for the slight tremble in his lips and a hint of surprise- Logan supposed neither of them had planned what had escaped their mouths. He reached up with a thin arm and brushed the back of his hand gently across his eyes. A spark of something strange flickered in Logan’s chest- this man was possibly not all there. He wracked his brain for labels- depression? Mild psychosis? Dissociation?

Either way, this was not someone he should invite into his house without more information- but as that regretfully occurred to him, the first drops of afternoon rain hit the tip of his noise. He wondered if the boy would stand out here after Logan went outside, and if so, for how long. 

“No, I’m not,” he found himself saying. “My name is Logan. It is raining- would you like to come in?”

He was exceedingly aware of the boy’s breathing as they stepped out of the rain, something that would normally drive him insane- somehow he didn’t mind this time. His presence was almost calming after weeks of bringing a break from Logan’s ceaseless work. It assured him that the ghostly pale man was real, which was never a problem he thought he’d be debating... but here was this skeleton-thin, strange-mannered man entering his house as though he’d been there a million times before.

He carefully slid his shoes off, paying close attention to the floor- and no attention to Logan. 

“I’ll make tea,” the latter found himself mumbling. “Do you want to come into the kitchen?”

“I’m gonna go upstairs,” the boy said. Logan blinked.

“I- you… this is my house?” He stuttered, trying to be assertive- surely that crossed a line? He’d never seen this kid before a month ago- but there he went, lugging himself up the stairs like he belonged there. O-kay. 

Logan backed into the drafty kitchen to put the kettle on.

Time to listen to his voice of reason, he decided. Clearly this boy had been in the house before- hopefully before Logan had moved in- and knew his way around. And clearly his mental state had some connection to the house- whether positive or negative, Logan couldn’t yet tell. So, he concluded, it’s possible that he had lived here before. The married couple that had sold him the house had mentioned a son, but they’d been moving out of town- how would the boy have made his way back almost daily? There was a bus line in the area... but who was Patton, and why had his absence been unexpected?

There was clearly missing information here, and thus the situation was theoretically dangerous. The logical thing to do would be to contact the authorities for more information- maybe the boy was a local that they were familiar with. If that were the case, they would know how to handle him. 

On the other hand… it was, put simply, a puzzle. Wasn’t it? Logan was smart; he was in online college and he was passing quite well. He had an A in psych so far. He just needed a few more minutes with the boy and he’d figure it out. He could help him... why else would he show up outside his house? 

He needed Logan.

There goes rational thought, Logan sighed as the kettle started to whistle, turning off the stovetop and moving the pot to the side. Something made him turn around- the boy was watching him from the doorway, looking almost more upset than usual. His wide eyes were watery, and as Logan hesitated he wiped an arm across his face again, expression turning to frustration. He avoided Logan’s gaze. “You said you were making tea?” He said, carefully controlled voice just above a whisper. Logan was startled out of his stupor by the boy’s coherence.

“I, um- yes! Yes, would you- what kind?”

“Earl grey? No sugar, just a bit of milk...” he carefully pulled a chair from the small table, slumping into it and reaching to fidget with the salt shaker. “Please.”

The boy’s words stirred Logan into movement and he grabbed two mugs out of the mostly barren cabinet before pulling a pre-packaged tea bag from the tea box on the counter. He unwrapped the tea and dropped one bag in each mug, pouring steaming water from the kettle into them with a satisfying noise. The warm humidity and pleasant smell caressed Logan’s face, and he took a moment to bask in it before returning to the present moment- if begrudgingly. As he set the empty kettle aside, the room quieted, the only sound the rain drizzling over the side of the roof. Logan crossed the space self-consciously to close the window. The boy’s eyes were pointedly focused on the table in front of him- Logan thought he felt more awkward this way than if the boy had been staring at him flat-out. Either way, he could feel his awareness of Logan like a thick fog. He snuck another look at the boy as he hovered beside a chair, unsure whether to sit opposite him. 

“My name is Logan,” he prompted, thoughts stumbling over each other to curse him for the repetition. 

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.”

...Well, at least that was something. His name sounded strange in the other boy’s hoarse, delicate voice- less mundane, somehow. He stood at the head of a table for one more moment that seemed to stretch out an eternity- the boy carefully spun the salt shaker around in his nimble fingers, swearing softly as some of the seasoning fell onto the table. Logan’s startled eyes studied the other’s flushed face.

And then his head caught up to him, and he shuttered into motion, rushing to the mostly empty fridge for milk and fetching the small bag of sugar he’d mercifully bought a few days before. 

“I... I’ve seen you around,” Logan’s mouth betrayed him again. That was creepy- although, looking at it objectively, it was much less creepy than being ‘around’ the way the boy had. The table behind was quiet for too long as he poured the milk. 

“...When’d you move in?” The voice was quiet and held a fragility that Logan hadn’t yet heard from the other. He was relieved to finally have an easy answer to one of the many questions he faced. And, indeed, his mouth finally obeyed him, even and direct.

“About a month ago.” He turned to face the table, the boy’s tea held stiffly between his hands. 

“Sorry,” he whispered as Logan set down the tea. “I knew someone’d moved in, but I guess… it was you.” The boy let out a hollow laugh, and Logan was swept with protectiveness once more.

“Don’t worry, I won’t alert the authorities.” Because that was the most comforting thing he could think of- he’d never been very tactful with delicate emotional situations. Predictably, the boy tensed. Logan decided it’d be advisable for him to move on. “What is your name, pray tell?”

Pray tell. Pray fucking tell? What was wrong with him? The boy cut him off before he could overthink the foot he’d just shoved in his mouth with the eloquence of an 1800s era schoolboy. 

“Patton.” A moment passed before a look of horror came over his face. “Or- no, I- it’s- Virgil! Virgil.”

Now- once again, logically- forgetting one's name was not a good sign. Of general coherence nor moral innocence. Logan knew this. 

Still, the boy looked uniquely upset by the mistake. 

Logan fetched his tea and sat down opposite him.

The other boy fidgeted incessantly, and Logan felt it fell on him to make Virgil more comfortable. He threw tact to the wind- it was tiresome anyway- in favor of distracting the other and himself from the strange fumble.

“Are you a local?”

He got a nod in response, Virgil holding the tea tightly between his hands. Logan couldn’t help but feel he’d made yet another mistake- obviously the boy wasn’t comfortable talking about himself, but was it worth Logan filling the silence with unprompted facts about himself? Would that bore Virgil? Was that rude? He let the gap in conversation rest for a moment before deciding he didn’t much care what was rude.

“This is my second year enrolled in online college- I skipped my senior year.”

The stupid non-sequitor sat in the middle of the table, sinking like a rock. Virgil managed to give him an incredulous look, even in the depths of... whatever it was that was affecting him. Logan panicked. 

Here are a few things about Logan Croft that were usually a given:

                  1. He often said things without regard to the effect they would have on others. 

                  2. He did not say things he didn’t believe to be true.

                  3. He did not readily employ personal information.

All of these rules had apparently been thrown out the window the second Virgil walked in his door. As soon as he realized this, he worked to reclaim them. “Virgil.”

The wind immediately blew out of his sails, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Speaking abrasively had never been difficult for him, and this was not the time to adopt a new weakness. “I need to know who you are. You have shown up outside of my house for the past month, and while the reasoning behind this is presumably personal and not necessarily critical for me to know, I will at least need you to tell me your full name. Against my better judgement, I will not contact the authorities about your incessant invasion of my privacy, because I don’t altogether mind it- but if you are to have regular access to my house, we can’t continue this one-sided conversation.” Regular access to his house? When had Logan considered that option? As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer- the feeling of someone appearing in the doorway, seeking Logan’s company… it was something that he’d missed sorely. It was something he needed.

The boy looked startled and altogether terrified by the long stream of words. Logan, still working hard to recover his sense and new to the inclination of softening his words on the behalf of strangers, disregarded this as best he could as he waited for an answer. 

It didn’t look like he was going to get one.

Virgil opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, putting the salt shaker down on it’s side like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Logan felt a tug in his stomach to right it, afraid he’d get more salt on his table, but now didn’t seem like the time. 

As the moment stretched forward, his attention was grabbed away anyways, trying to decipher Virgil’s expression. It didn’t look good. 

In fact, it made his heart drop.

The boy looked withdrawn, fearful- like a bird with an injured wing or a snared fox. Damn it, damn it, damn it- Logan’s split-second adopted mantra was less than helpful, but it showed no signs of tapering off to make room for useful thoughts. Virgil’s eyes squeezed shut, and the instincts left over from Logan’s career as an older brother took over. 

He rushed to Virgil’s side on blind autopilot, laying a warm hand over his bony back. The boy jumped at the unexpected touch- and then leaned into it, a choked sob tearing itself from his throat. Oh no. Oh god. Damn it. 

Logan didn’t consider himself good with emotions. He did his best to comfort his younger brothers- god knows they needed it- but strangers were a whole new situation and honestly he didn’t feel much better about this than he expected the boy did.

Nevertheless. 

“Hey, I-” he took a knee to lower himself to Virgil’s level, steadying himself against the table awkwardly. “Um-”

He choked on what to say, but his mind latched to the one thing he knew. Virgil had responded positively to touch- and with little further thought, Logan bundled the shivering boy into his arms.

Logan would’ve immediately taken back the show of affection by any means necessary if Virgil hadn’t melted into the touch so readily- Logan was reminded of an oversized cat. 

That being said, Logan was holding a sobbing stranger in his arms in his new house, alone. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Logan had always been the kid at family gatherings who did everything in his power to ward off physical contact from his overbearing relatives. Although this situation was completely different and altogether impossible to plan for and avoid, he found himself reacting in somewhat of the same way- each place that Virgil’s thin, trembling body touched his screamed at him to recoil.

He did not.

He brought to mind his brothers- not that they’d ever been particularly physically affectionate with him. They’d always turned to each other, and he’d been left to himself. Understandably. But he imagined if they had seeked his reassurance, if they’d ever been as upset as this stranger was now. If they’d let him in. 

But now someone was leaning on him for comfort, and he was determined to provide for them. Imagine if Remus had come to him for help, he kept thinking. Imagine if it were Roman. 

And all of a sudden he had to hold back tears himself. He tensed, carefully leaning Virgill back onto his chair- Logan’s chair. Sensing the other’s discomfort, the boy came back to himself like a fire blazing across dry wood. 

“Fuck- fuck, I-I’m-” the boy was off at a rushed stutter, scrambling to right himself and wiping his eyes angrily. Logan shook his head, patting Virgil’s shoulder awkwardly. 

“Drink your tea,” Logan said stiffly. “It’s okay. I don’t- do you need something?” Good job, he thought sarcastically. Just pretend it never happened. Show him that, apologies, you seem to have made him think you’re an emotional resource. He was wrong, you’re actually a sociopath. Once again, sorry for any inconvenience. 

Logan’s thoughts stuttered and shouted as he tried to fix whatever he’d done. Virgil was quite obviously shaking, almost unable to hold his tea to his lips although he did make an effort, and Logan resorted back to psych class- maybe not a panic attack, but certainly an emotional breakdown and possibly an anxiety attack. “Do you have a history of generalized anxiety disorder?” Logan asked automatically, the place where he should have held a capacity for compassion currently void for whatever stupid reason. “Or even a suspected case?” The thunderstorm in his mind froze entirely as Virgil’s watery brown eyes focused on him. 

“...I guess,” he rasped quietly, eyes flickering back to his hands as they picked at each other violently. “I dunno.”

Logan let out a long breath, sliding furtively into the chair opposite Virgil. 

“If you’re having an anxiety attack, it could be caused by a persistent disorder or a recent traumatic event- although recent is a problematically inspecific measurement-” 

“Uh, then I- I dunno. Still. I guess…” He shrugged, looking away. “How recent is recently?”

Logan tried to hold back a sigh of relief at the comparatively simple question.

“Generally, anxiety attacks are caused by a buildup of unfinished tasks or other irritants, although there’s often an overarching problem or incident. A traumatic event can cause emotional turmoil for years after it occurs- or for the remainder of one’s life, depending on it’s nature- but in most to all cases, the effects lessen as time goes on.” Virgil nodded slowly. 

“And- and what are the symptoms? Of an anxiety attack?” He pulled his legs up to his chest, presumably placating the urge to make himself smaller. Logan rattled off the characteristics quickly.

“Shaking, a feeling of unease, impulsive thoughts, nausea, panic, the sensation of being trapped or cornered, restlessness, hyperventilation, trouble concentrating, dyspnea- shortness of breath, that is- am I making sense?” He wrapped his hands around the cooling cup of tea in front of him, feeling the need to steady himself. Virgil nodded again- it was apparent he was a man of few words. That worked out wonderfully, Logan thought, as he himself seemed so bent on talking as much as humanly possible. 

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered- then stood up abruptly. “Um- I should probably go. Sorry for… yeah.” Logan, decidedly more alarmed at the idea than he should’ve been, got to his feet as well.

“No- I mean, you don’t… have to. If you’d rather- but if you feel the need to go- I mean, I don’t want you to…” Logan paused, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get his damn mouth under the control of his brain. Had he said something wrong? Well, obviously he’d said many things wrong in the past minutes, but… he thought over the conversation. He’d only been saying the facts- just what he knew. Was there something he should have kept to himself? Was any of it too personal? It was just facts, statistics, symptoms- he cursed himself mentally, although he couldn’t tell precisely what for.

While he’d been deliberating- not panicking, never panicking- Virgil had frozen in place. Right. The whole blazing trainwreck of words he’d let out for no apparent reason. Where the hell had that even come from? He’d known this kid for a month- five minutes face-to-face- and he was already being weird and nonsensical. It took considerable effort to bring the circumstances of their meeting to mind and even the playing field in his subconscious. If they were both creepy, did it even out? “I-I meant... you’re welcome here.” 

Logan could see the gears turning in Virgil’s head as he fell back into his chair. A weight slid off of his shoulders as the air between them settled- they were even. Or something. 

As much as he expected to regret his words, he was surprised at the lack of protest from his thoughts. It was, for once, blessedly quiet both inside his head and out. Logan sat back down warily. “You obviously have some- some connection to this house.” Like some sort of undead apparition, he thought- but he had the sense to keep that, at least, inside. “I can’t tell if it has a positive or negative effect on your mental state as I seem to be an uncalled for variable in your visit. I’m no psychological authority... I know you’ll come back either way, and I don’t like imagining you back out in the rain.” A shiver went through the boy like a roll of thunder, and he nodded. 

“When can I come here again?”

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 8 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: A lot of yelling, language, and some supernatural references (if you squint) 

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner

~~~~~~~~~~ 

You took deep breaths as Hotch led you towards the interview room. You tightened your fists at your sides as you ran through your mind how you planned on doing any of this. The last time you'd tried to negotiate with a man like him, it hadn't been pretty. 

"You need to get him angry, alright? That's his weakness. Figure out which of the archetypes he is. Get as much as you can out of him, but do not under any circumstances let him speak to anyone or manipulate you. We will switch out with Morgan to watch over him in an hour. Good luck." Hotch readied you, giving you the files you needed. You clutched the manilla envelope against your chest, trying to calm your ever racing heart. 

You nod wordlessly, facing the man in the see through mirror. He was wearing a red flannel and a black shirt underneath paired with ripped jeans. He had hunters boots on as well. He had a bruise forming on his jaw and a fresh cut that was bandaged on his forehead. 

Morgan stepped up behind you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You can do this, kid. Promise. Don't let him get to you." He insists. You nodded shakily, looking up at the man again. 

You turn towards Morgan with a determined look. "Just promise me you won't interrupt. Even if he tries to attack me." You insist. Morgan widens his eyes. 

"Princess, we can't do that. If anything goes wrong-" he began, unable to find the right words to fill the gap. "You could get hurt. And that's paperwork." He adds with a sigh. You giggle and shake your head. 

"Morgan, we both know paperwork isn't what you're worried about." You tease before you turn around and find the handle to the interview room. Here goes nothing. 

You walk in, closing the door behind you. As soon as you turn around to do so, you hear a whistle from behind you. 

"Damn… and here I thought they'd be sendin' in some prissy princess. How you doin'?" The man asked. You swallow. This was exactly how you expected him to treat you. You'd had experience with narcissists and manipulators before. This was the first thing they did. 

"I don't know, Jensen." You greet, grateful you had stolen a glance at his profile and which one of the brothers he was. He smirked at you, leaning forward and biting his lip flirtatiously. "Why don't you tell me how you're doing with all of these murders. I mean, it has to get to you somehow. All that blood on your hands… all that guilt… unless it's just fun for you." You ask, smirking at him as you changed the subject. Jensen's face shifted slightly, twitching at how focused you still were at getting these answers. 

"Sure it's fun. But I only do it cause I have to. You know… I'd stop if I had a girl like you…" he insists, attempting to reach across and touch your chin. You back away slowly, just about enough to make him think you were playing hard to get. You batted your eyelashes and threw your hair behind your shoulder. 

"Oh really? You would?" You asked, pulling out a photo. "What about that brother of yours? Sam, right? What's he like?" You ask in a flirtatious tone. Jensen yet again shifts a little in his seat, uncomfortable that he was losing control of the conversation.  

"Hey, Sammy can't even get it up half the time. All the girls he fucks he kills afterwards. I'm better, trust me." He insists, winking at you from where he sat slouched in the seat across from you. He bit his lip a little harder and hummed gently. "Man… you know, if I didn't have these handcuffs on I could show you a pretty good time…" he trails, giving you a seductive look. Had this been over five years ago, this flirting would have seriously got you. No one had ever flirted with you this way. Not even now. But after all your experience with secret motivations behind smiling masks, you knew better. 

"Oh yeah? I thought you were… more the kinky type. Let a girl think she's in control for a good little bit." You ask, purposely shifting in your seat to slightly pull up your skirt. Your plan has been working so far. Hopefully Morgan was keeping his promise. 

Jensen licked his lips and looked you up and down. "I'm guessing this ain't your first rodeo, is it, princess?" He asks, giving you a flirtatious glance. You bite back a disgusted groan that would've fallen from your mouth if the situation were different. 

You giggle and hold a hand to your mouth. "No, no I'm afraid it isn't." You tease. Jensen flashes a white smile you're sure has charmed plenty of women in his past into his pants. 

"Good. I like women with… experience." He flirts back. "You think I could get a beer in here? Some whiskey?" He asks. 

"How about you answer a few questions for me, big boy? Then maybe I'll let you ask for a few things. Of course, within reason." You remind, winking back at him. Jensen leaned back in his chair and pondered what you offered. 

"Sure, lay it on me, Baby." He allows, nodding to you. You let out an undetectable sigh of relief before you start up again. So far, so good. 

"So… Jensen… how would you describe your relationship with Sam? Strong? You get along good?" You ask, internally groaning at how much you sounded like a therapist. 

Jensen seemed to share this sentiment and let out a groan for you. "Geez, you sound like a goddamn shrink." He grumbles as he sits up. "Yeah… me and Sammy are always by each other. I practically raised him. He's my baby brother. What do you expect? Some people say we're codependent on each other but, really, who are they to judge?" He shrugged, looking at you. 

You nod, looking through the information. Just as you begin to open your mouth to ask another question, Jensen slightly hits the table. 

"Nuh uh, sweetheart. You asked me a question, so I get to ask one too. Am I right?" He clarifies, giving you a shit-eating grin because he knew he was right. You sigh and nodded, closing the file for a moment. Jensen smirked and leaned forward towards you. 

"How come we ain't on a first name basis yet, hm? You know my name, what's yours sugar-tits?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. You swallow gently. 

"My name is Agent-" 

"No-no-no-" Jensen interrupted. "I mean your real name, sweetness. You know, the name mommy and daddy gave you when they signed that slip of paper." He insists, pressing a finger into the table. 

You sigh. "I can meet you half-way and give you my middle name-" you attempt to compromise. 

"No, damnit!" He growls, slapping his fists into the table. "I want a damn name! No name? No answers, bitch!" He yelled in your face. You swallowed all the nerves building up in your throat, clearing it for a moment. 

"Alright, alright, calm down. Or we'll have to detain you again. And then you won't get the chance to hear my name or potentially strike up a deal, you hear me?" You ask, biting the inside of your cheek just barely. 

Jensen seemed satisfied with your answer, settling back into his chair. 

"They call me (Y/N)." You answer after a quiet moment. Jensen smiles greedily. 

"(Y/N), huh? You don't hear that one everyday."

"No, you don't. Now… Jensen. Can you tell me, what exactly you and your brother were doing when you decided to kill these two men?" You asked, pushing the pictures of the crime scene in front of him. He rolled his eyes.

"They were tax guys. We didn't wanna pay tax, is that too hard to get, baby?" He asks with a chuckle.  

"No, I figured that. No, what I want to know, is why you decided to pour salt on the body once they were already dead, and set them on fire?" You questioned. Jensen began to protest but you held up a hand. 

"I'll let you ask two questions once you answer me." You promise, pointing at one of the photos. He sighed and leaned back. 

"Ain't I allowed a lawyer?" He asks. 

"Not since you escaped prison and are not a legal, non-incarcerated citizen. Sure, you will receive an attorney for trial. But I doubt a lawyer will help you here. I'm your best bet at being able to strike up a deal." 

Jensen grumbled, looking around the room, still refusing to answer. You nod as you begin to take mental notes. 

"Ah I see. This all has to do with the man who burned your mother, doesn't it?" You ask him, catching him off guard. 

"Wha-?! How did-?" He began. 

"We're the FBI, Jensen. Not some local police officer you can convince you were just experimenting how to build a bonfire and try to tell me they got just a little too close. You see, your mother was salted and burned too. But I bet you knew that. That man assaulted her in your brother's nursery and started the fire. You reserved that method for him. But you couldn't remember whether the man was blond haired, or dark. So you killed them both the same way. Didn't you, Jensen? You and your brother got caught up in your daddy's little business-" 

"Shut up-" Jensen growled.  

"And now you can't stand to let him down. To break the promise you made to him-" 

"Shut. Up." He hissed.  

"And you brought your little brother into it too because you couldn't face all the guilt all alone. Because you're afraid of being abandoned. Despite all the ways you have to fill up that void: Drink, Sex, Money, you know that you can never be satisfied." You insist, leaning closer to Jensen as you begin to raise your voice.  

"Shut the hell up, bitch!" He attempted to shout over you. 

"You can never be satisfied because all you are is daddy's little pawn. And without him? You see no purpose for yourself-" 

"Son of a bitch-!" He growled, slamming his fist into the table again. "Shut the fuck up before I make you-" 

"Then answer me this one question, Jensen." You insist, standing up as he does. 

"Why should I-?" He roars. 

"Cause I know you never wanted this. That you wanted a regular family. And I can find that family you tried to hold onto." You insist. It was a long shot, but you had to try. 

"What the hell are you talking about-?!" 

"Men like you, who have broken homes, broken families with deadbeat fathers, they try to start over. Try to be the man their father wasn't. And I can see that you fit right into that, Jensen. You tried to have a family. You desperately tried. But you were too sucked into this second life you had that you had to choose. And you regret it. Now, tell me where your brother is, and I'll find them for you." You promise. 

Jensen widens his eyes in shock, as if he was surprised you could get all of that from just this little interview. He tensed up and took his seat again, twitching with anger and disbelief. "You're bluffing… she… Daneel moved on from me. Changed her name. You can't find her." 

"I bet that I can. I'll find them and let you see them again. If you tell me where your brother is." You restate, calming your voice to a caring tone. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands. 

"There's an old factory we both head to… when one of us gets caught. It's down south of Lebanon. He'll be there. Now you better find her for me. Or I will strangle you here and now-" he began to threaten. 

"I wouldn't lie about that. You'll see her. You'll see your brother too. Just behave, and I may be able to get some visiting privileges worked out for you." You promise, collecting the files again and head towards the door. 

"(Y/N)..." 

You turn your head as you hear your name. Before you can even reply, he finishes his statement.  

"Thank you." He says just barely audibly. You smile gently and nod to him before you leave the room. 

Once out you exhale your hardest, taking in a similar inhale. That, was a lot. 

"Damn… how the hell did you get all that? How did you… even do that?" Morgan asks, helping you up from where you had unknowingly leaned against the door. 

You shook your head, smiling somewhat. "I… I trusted my gut. I've unfortunately dealt with guys like him. And the one thing they treasure is something they know they can never have." You explain, looking up at Morgan. 

"Well still, you did a good job staying calm in there. I mean… Hotch and I didn't know whether or not you were seriously flirting with him or not." Morgan chuckles. 

"Yeah well… sure he was handsome but, he isn't my type." You reveal. Morgan smirks and nudges your shoulder. 

"Yeah, cause your type is 6'1 and a gigantic nerd. Who by the way, couldn't stay in the room watching the interrogation after you started flirting with him. You should've seen him, all red faced too." He grinned. You widen your eyes at his reveal, doing a little blushing of your own. 

"Really?" You ask. 

"Yeah, kid. But seriously… (Y/N)? You've been holding out on me princess! Why didn't you tell me you had a name like that?" He teased, leading you out of the room and towards the rest of the station. 

"Well… you can call me (Y/N/N). I go by that more often by friends." You insist. Morgan chuckles.  

"And we are most definitely, friends." He says, holding up a fist for you. You giggle and give him a fist bump, walking with him back out to where Hotch and the rest of the team were. 

"We all need to split up and take different entrances to the factory. He probably knows the building better than we do. Once we're in, we'll corner him. Without his brother he is vulnerable." Hotch explains, unaware Morgan was walking up behind him. 

You look down and pull your skirt back into place. You didn't need anyone thinking you were trying to get some. 

"So Hotch, what's the plan?" Morgan asked. 

Hotch turned around and faced the two of you. "I'm having Garcia get the layout of the factory now. There's only one down there, so we have to assume that's the one Jensen meant." 

"Great work, (L/N)." Prentiss says, smiling at you. 

"Thank you." You respond. "I… just trusted my gut. Hotch?" You spoke up. The man in question turned his head towards you. You sigh and begin to speak up. 

"I called Garcia to find her for you." Rossi interrupted, smiling at you. "I'll put it on my record, so you can still have a clean one." He promises, winking at you. 

Hotch nodded. "Yes, we'll get in contact with this Daneel. If any pop up in his history, we'll call her down to see him. Now we need to hurry. Jensen may have a way to tip off his brother. You need to change out of that and get down to the factory." He says to you. 

"She can change in the car with me." Prentiss insists. "Like you said we don't have much time." 

"Alright. (L/N), you ride with Prentiss. Let's go." He says, prompting all of you to head towards the doors. 

○●♡●○ 

"Damn, (Y/N), where have you been all my life?" Derek asks as you both come back into the station, followed by the rest of the team. 

They had managed to apprehend the brother. Turns out that Sam had been contemplating suicide and when you had told him he could see his brother again, he gave in. So he was much easier than his brother. 

"I dunno, Morgan. Probably hidden under all the other chicks you had to take out first." You teased, giggling a little as you all took a seat (and or leaned against the wall, as was Morgan’s thing.) 

Spencer, on the other hand, chose to head into the evidence room instead. You raised an eyebrow, confused. 

"Hey, uh… is Reid okay? I mean, he was the one who got the guy in handcuffs. Did you see him though? He had to be at least as tall as Spencer." You chuckled. 

"Why do you say that?" Prentiss asks. 

"Did you not see him skip this little after case review? He went straight into the evidence room. I've never known him in the two months that I have, to go clean up evidence boards before talking to all of us." You point out. 

"He's probably just jealous." Morgan teased. You furrow your eyebrows and wack Morgan’s arm. Morgan smiles and winces playfully in pain.

"I thought you promised me you wouldn't talk about it!?" You hissed. 

"Ooh, talk about what?" JJ asks, taking her own seat instead of standing. Hotch smiles softly and chuckles. 

"The obvious crush Ms. (L/N) has on Reid." Hotch spoke up. 

You whip around faster than the swivel chair can as you look at Hotch in surprise. "Don't tell me he told you!" You whined, your blush making a reappearance on your face as you cover them. 

Hotch chuckles and lets Rossi take over his defense. "We all know already, kid. You aren't exactly slick about it." He says with a chuckle of his own. 

"You all suck. Capital S." You grumble. 

"Hey, I didn't do anything about it." Prentiss points out. "Though sure, I may have said something about Reid…" she trails. You groan louder. 

"Seriously? How obvious have I really been?" You ask. "And be honest with me please." You insist. Each of your team members looked to one another before they each said: "Very." 

You let out a frustrated growl and lean back in your chair. Morgan chuckled as he put a hand on your shoulder. 

"Kid, you weren't slick." He admits. 

After a moment, Morgan gets an idea and smirks. "So… does he know your name?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Prentiss and JJ gasp for a moment, smiling at you expectantly. A third gasp joins them, causing you to crane your neck to find out where it came from. JJ turned her phone around and showed Garcia's caller ID. You should have known. 

"Come on kid, is it safe to tell us yet?" Morgan asks, smiling genuinely at you. The most real one you'd gotten thus far, you think with a grumble. 

You sigh as you begin to grin from ear to ear. Guess you weren't getting out of this. You had finally been able to let your guard down around the team. You felt welcomed and not like a burden. So you said it. 

"My name is (Y/N). But you all can call me (Y/N/N)." 

A few shrieks from Garcia's end were quickly heard then silenced through the volume button of JJ's phone. Prentiss smiled at you, sitting back gently.  

"Really now? Never thought I'd say it but I never pegged you for a (Y/N)." She commented. You snickered. 

"Yeah, well, you can thank my grandfather for  that one. He insisted my parents name me something normal. Or at least something that wasn't Gwenevere. So they compromised on (Y/N)." You laugh, bringing a few more members of the team with you. 

This was home. You'd only known a true home one time before this in your life. And this was it. This is what home was to you. Not a random apartment, not some desk job, this. This work family you'd built up for the past two months. 

You just hoped you hadn't screwed up with Reid again. 

[pedrobois-fanfic-collections]

MarcusMorenoxReader SuperVillainessPt4

Tag list: agingerindenial ,  killtherandomness

bruh I don’t know what I’m writing anymore

“I didn’t realize you and Miracle Guy had such a difficult time.” Missy said leaning back and taking a sip of her drink. “So Electrica just jumps off the table, leaps at you, attacks you and runs off.”

Marcus felt his cheeks heating up, but nodded, “Yea, pretty much.” He replied with a straight face.

“What happened when Miracle Guy came back?”

“The media eventually showed up, he posed for his glamour shots and the heroic discovery of an evil scientist’s lab that was doing human experimentation. Promises were made to shut it down and any future news on what might have been uncovered.”

Missy furrowed her brow, “You didn’t mention…” She seemed to struggle on whether or not to call you ‘mom’.

Marcus shook his head, “No. Throw the public into a panic? And over what? We didn’t know exactly what she was capable of yet or what she was going to do. At this point we were still hoping she would fade away or stay a minimal threat to be quickly dealt with or hopefully recruited into the Heroics with her powers.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So some weeks passed, no mention of her.”

-

“Marcus, we have a small-time job for you.” The administrator walked over to Marcus’ desk at the Heroics’ headquarters.

Marcus turned idly in his chair, looking up from his computer. He hummed in response, letting the pen he had been balancing fall from his finger.

“It’s just something to keep you from dying of boredom, things have been quiet, and everyone else is pretty much indisposed.”

“What do you need?”

The administrator handed him a tablet, “The guy calls himself the Dragon.”

Marcus took the tablet from the administrator and inspected it closely. The Dragon was tall, muscular, and partially covered in hide-like scales in various parts of his body. He seemed to have severe burns as well, despite manipulating fire as he threw balls of flames at terrified crowds. The Dragon wore a long red, orange, and yellow cape, the colors gradient into each other and similar themes along his trousers but had a bare chest to reveal his scaley skin. The most striking aspect of him were his clawed hands which he frequently seemed to use to slice into thick metal objects such as cars or metal buildings.

“Great.” Marcus muttered.

“Think you can handle it or should we call someone else in for backup?”

Sighing, Marcus shook his head, “If I’m to lead these people, I need to be able to prove it by example. I can’t always need back up.”

In short order, Marcus was flying downtown to where the havoc and fiery destruction was taking place.

“I am the Dragon!” The man identified as the Dragon roared, spewing a burst of flame from his mouth. “Your pitiful Heroics don’t even stand to oppose me! None can challenge me! I will burn this city to the ground!”

Marcus landed, rolling forward and drawing his katanas. He came to a stop in a crouching position. “I represent the Heroics. We can end this peacefully,” he glanced around at the last of the people running to safety. His gaze shifted to the smouldering fires and he grit his teeth, “or I can put you down.”

The Dragon threw a ball of flame at Marcus and Marcus rolled out of the way.

“Ha, ha, ha!” The Dragon laughed.

Marcus rolled his eyes, at the gregarious display. Just once, a criminal that didn’t have to make a show of things, would be nice.

“Watch as your beloved hero falls to me! Nothing can stand before my might!”

Marcus threw his katana and it hit the Dragon square in the chest. The blade sank in a fraction of a centimeter, and the Dragon cut off with a grunt, but the blade quickly fell to the ground.

“You dare strike me?”

Marcus had propelled it forward with his magnetism. “It shut you up. For a bit.” He smiled awkwardly.

The Dragon charged at Marcus holding the katana out. His hands gripped the blade and Marcus’ eyes widened as he saw the katana growing white hot in the villain’s hands. Marcus reached up with his remaining blade and parried the blow.

The Dragon’s blade was so hot by this point that the strike bent the blade, thrusting the Dragon into Marcus and knocking the smaller man to the ground. The Dragon landed on top of Marcus and for a second the two of them stared at each other in surprise. Each held their swords interlocked, keeping the other man away from themselves.

The Dragon tossed his katana to the side and raised his razor-sharp claws and began slashing at Marcus.

Marcus cried out, pulling his arms up to protect his face. The guards on his forearms giving him minimal protection for the briefest of seconds before they were quickly tattered. He kicked uselessly at the Dragon, but the villain had Marcus at a better angle.

Unable to turn his head to the side to look for any metal to assist him, Marcus was well and truly f-

A blast of electricity shot through the air, arching into the Dragon, and throwing him backwards.

Marcus glanced up, but the sun shone in his eyes, along with blood and sweat. Instead, he opted to collapse his arms on top of his face and curl up in the fetal position, to beat and exhausted to fight back.

From around him he could hear the shrieks of the Dragon, electrical discharges, blasts of fire, and the carnage of battle. He could smell ozone, the destroyed city block, and fiery ash, and his own blood and sweat.

Then, there was one final cry from the Dragon, strangled and desperate, and then the street was quiet. A heavy thump. Then, truly quiet.

Marcus opened his eyes, but the blood and sweat stung and despite his blinking he still couldn’t see well.

“Hold still.” A woman’s voice said softly. He recognized that voice.

You knelt over Marcus. A water bottle found in one of the nearby shops held in your hand. Carefully, you poured a small amount over his head, draining some into his eyes, and clearing the dried blood. With the cloak you had taken up wearing, you wiped the excess from his eyes, heart swelling as you took in just how deep brown they were. You hadn’t been able to appreciate in the lab the depths of the color of his eyes.

Marcus blinked up at you, reaching his hand up to hold the back of your head as you knelt over him. You held him up, cupping the back of his neck so he would not be resting in the hard, dirty street.

“What are you doing here?” Marcus croaked, his voice hoarse.

“Here.” You poured some of the contents of the water bottle into his mouth, watching some of it spill over his supple lips and down his mouth.

Marcus hissed as he raised his bloodied arms to wipe his hand at his face, “But why?”

You looked away, taking a drink from the water bottle and setting it down, before turning back to him.

Struggling to sit up completely, with you still holding him, Marcus looked past you and exhaled softly. “He’s dead.”

“I did what I had to do.”

Marcus looked up at you. “You saved my life but I can’t let you go now. I can get you a lesser sentence maybe since it was in self-defense, but,”

“It wasn’t in self-defense.” You looked at him. “I killed him, and I will do so again.”

“Electrica… That’s the name you’re going by? Surely you had a name before, before whatever was done to you.”

“That time no longer matters.” You smiled, “I have been made into this, and so the world shall have me as I am.”

“But you saved me, you’re not a killer.” Marcus reached up and touched your face. “You don’t have to be a killer.”

You took his bloodied arm and dug your nails into the gashes. Marcus cried out in pain. “I’m sorry, my dear.” You murmured, watching as he writhed away from you. “It is who I was made to be.” Leaning down as he once more lay on the ground, breaths coming in great heaving gasps, you pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I look forward to when we meet next.”

-

“Wait so she saves you, and then hurts you? Talk about mixed signals, Dad.”

“Yea, I was out of commission from fighting for a long time after that fight. The administrator was really apologetic for sending me alone on that. They severely underestimated the Dragon’s capabilities and realized it should’ve been a team effort.”

“I’m glad you’re not doing anything without me.”

Marcus chuckled, “Of course.”

“You sound like you get your butt kicked a lot.”

“In this story, I do. I swear I normally don’t though. These are just kind of my heroic lows, but trust me, your mother had as many close calls as I did.”

“What?”

“As much as she had a soft spot for me, I… had a weak spot for her.”

“You were saving a criminal?”

Marcus smiled weakly.

-

You stood on the roof, gazing down at the rows of armed police. Night was dark as pitch and they aimed their spotlights uselessly, attempting to find you.

Hands on your hips, you gazed down from the three-story building wondering exactly how you would fight your way out of this. From behind you, came the familiar heli-blades you knew so well.

You turned around with a smile. “Marcus. I didn’t think you would come.”

Marcus landed behind you, “I shouldn’t have.” He growled angrily. “What are you thinking?”

“You’re so gorgeous when you’re angry, you know that. How deep your voice gets?”

“Don’t flirt with me when I’m mad.” The sting in his words held no weight as he shifted his weight on his hips and held a finger out at you.

You leaned back on the balls of your feet and bit your lip, slowly batting your eyelashes.

Marcus groaned, “One of these days, I’m not going to come for you, and you’re going to be on your own.”

“And what are you going to do when you’re broken and bloody and I don’t come for you?”

“Ha! Better than sell my soul to the devil.” Marcus snapped.

You walked up to him and slid your hands under his shirt, smoothing your fingers along his skin, feeling the years of scars. You hummed idly, “Is that so?”

Marcus sighed heavily before groaning and pushing your hands away, “Stop it, stop it, don’t do that.” He quickly tucked his shirt back in. “Do you know what I’m risking for you?” He asked in a hushed voice.

“Do you know what I risk for you? It’s not reputation when I risk life and limb to save you.” You snapped back, your voice equally hushed.

Marcus’ face softened. He stepped towards you and cupped your cheeks, smoothing his thumbs gently along them. “I know. I know.” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “But you know at the end of the day…”

You looked away, but he held you fast. “We’re enemies.” You whispered.

Marcus nodded, head pressed against yours. He pulled back and pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here. I won’t let them take you away, not yet anyways.”

[tansypoisoning]

Tansy’s Spooky Challenge

Because the World is terrifying :D

To celebrate this milestone (1k followers :O) I’m starting a challenge which hopefully will give back to this community in terms of exposure of less known authors (or just authors that aren’t known by my followers) and in creating more stories. I’m so thankful for all the attention I’ve been given, and I hope to give you guys my attention as well.

I love writing challenges because they give authors motivation to write (sometimes even things out of their comfort zone), because they’re a great way for writer’s to promote themselves, and because it’s a great way for the person hosting it to find more stories and authors they could end up being big fans of :D I especially encourage people with less followers, or whose works I haven’t read to participate.

The main objective of this challenge is to write something that has an element of horror in it. It can range from a situation that seemed scary but is okay, to something that is a little eerie, to pure unadulterated terror. As for rules:

You DON’T have to be following me to participate.

You have to enter with a reader insert/OC fic. There doesn’t have to be any smut or shipping, and if there is, the relationship DOESN’T HAVE to be about dark!character or dark!reader.

I’ll read works for any fandom, but the ones I’m most familiar with are Marvel, Overwatch, Snowpiercer, Knives Out, Naruto, Avatar:The Legend of Aang

You can submit drabbles, one-shots, or an entry of a serialized story.

A single prompt CAN be used by more than a single person.

The fanfics can be of any length, but if they’re on the longer side, please try putting a ‘Read More’ in there somewhere to avoid making things difficult for people reading on phones.

Things that are not allowed in terms of content: underage sex, bestiality, graphic child abuse (allusions are ok) I don’t think anyone would submit an entry that I would have reservations reblogging, but if in doubt you can ask me for help. Give warnings for any sensitive topic you bring up.

Tag your fic with “TansySpookyChallenge2020”

Send me an ask or dm telling me you posted it, preferably a dm. Asks can get eaten by the inbox, and tagging doesn’t always work.

Deadline is November 24th. You can DM for extensions

PROMPTS BELOW

Choose one item from each list and work them into a story. I allow and encourage trying to game the system with multiple interpretations of a term, less literal readings, or wordplay.

List 1

Happiness

Jealousy

Nostalgia

Desperation

Fury

Triumph

Sadness

Acceptance

Fervor

Disgust

Awe

Confusion

Hope

Craving

Foreboding

Denial

Loss

Ennui

Adoration

Sympathy

Pain

Betrayal

Commiseration

Anxiety

Rancor

Determination

List 2

Sink or swim

Chokecherry

Crossroads

“Let me see what you have.” “A knife!”

French vanilla

Something forgotten long ago

The shore

The eye of the storm

Bathtub

Corn hell

Down by the river

Baby’s breath

A little fire

An old saloon

Unearthed bones

On the move

Before dawn

Dead men walking

By candlelight

Frankenstein

Prima Donna

A hill about a mile outta town

First dance

Ritual

Underground

A small request

These text prompts can be used however you want: whether you want to have them in your story in their entirety, use bits, write something around them, something inspired by them, or just something you think has a similar feel. Just let me know which you picked.

There is a Corvette parked in front of the building, just by the front door. You approach the vehicle as if compelled by an invisible force and look in through the closed window. There’s none inside, but you see, in the driver's seat, illuminated by the neon lights of the bar, a white cowboy hat with a golden band. This isn’t the first time you see this hat.

The hole is no more than eight feet long and three feet wide. You peer in deeper, but you can’t see the bottom. There’s a soft but grating sound coming from somewhere within, like sharp nails raking against a metal plate. You can’t see the bottom, but you think you can see movement inside.

You abandon the warmth of the laundromat for the biting cold of the outside world. To your right, the road extends for miles and miles into the night, as it does to your left. There’s no place for you to go, but you can’t go back inside.

The light of the neon sign proudly displaying “Rising Sun Motel” shines through your door. You had closed and locked it before taking your shower – you know you had, because you do it in every room you rent. You take a cursory glance of your surroundings. Nothing is out of place or missing. Must be a faulty lock. The night is windy and could have pushed the cheap door open. You go to lock it again, and when you turn around you see that the closet door is slightly ajar.

The land is flat as far as the eye can see and identical houses with identically manicured lawns sprout from it as far as the eye can see. You run up and then down the street (or is it down and then up?) but you can’t seem to find anything else. The people look so friendly when they smile and wave as they pass you by, but you don’t ask them for directions. You look at your phone. You have signal, but all you can get your internet to show you are advertising for washing machines and sites with recipes for awful things preserved in aspic. The date and hour on your home screen keep changing. You’re positive you’ve been in this place for hours, but the sun won’t set.

“B-but… I don’t understand...” “We have checked the security footage three times and found nothing. There are also no signs of forced entries. No fingerprints.” “-My phone! I took pictures, I know I took-!” “We found nothing on your phone, in the SD card, or in the Cloud. There’s nothing.” “That’s impossible!” “We searched as much as we could. I’m sorry, but… are you sure-” “I know what I saw! I know it! Look again!” You aren’t imagining things. It couldn't have been your mind. It couldn't, it couldn’t, it couldn't

What kind of convenience store has taxidermy heads for decoration? You ask yourself as you roam the aisles of the near empty shop. You peek from behind a row of shelves to one side and spot the clerk. He’s old and severe looking, and although his pupils are pointed in your direction, you get the distinct feeling he’s looking right through you. You move your head to the other side of the shelves and spot another one of those fucking deer heads. This one’s large, wet eyes are turned to a fixture in the ceiling, but you would swear it’s watching you.

Rain pelts you as you stand at the dock, waiting. You hope your boat will arrive soon. You look over your shoulder into the mist and see nothing that should give you pause, but your leg still won’t stop shaking. You touch your arm by reflex and wince when you brush your cut. You think your makeshift tourniquet is working, but it looks fragile, like it could get dismantled at any second. In this weather, you’re sure is just a matter of time. You look over your shoulder again. Still nothing, but you fear it won’t last. You hope your boat will arrive soon.

The living room is dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. You are still too close. You move to the kitchen, and there you feel safe enough to reach for the switch. The illuminated room, much larger than it needed to be, is a ghastly land of contrasts. The many counters and their many marble tops are covered in trash. The tile floors, formerly clean enough to eat out of, are now muddied, not a single spot spared. The eyes of the two stoves are covered by pans and pots boiling foul mixtures. Through the window you can see the sprawling lawn and walls of hedges. They will hide you, but for how long? There is something waiting for you in the hallway, something terrible. You have to address it before sunrise, but for now you’ll wait here. The kitchen isn’t half as bad as the rest of the house.

‘The Bystander Effect’ is the term used to describe the phenomenon in which people don’t intervene in emergency situations when in a group, and, the larger the group, the less likely they are to intervene. You know this to be true, even without doing any research, as you hobble your way through the maze of alleyways. Your cries for help had gone unanswered, bouncing off the concrete walls into a multitude of uncaring ears. It’s just how it is in the big city – every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. So much for safety in numbers. The truth is, in this city, surrounded by all these people, you’re more alone than you’d ever been.

You take the first step with care, mindful of all the ice. The second is a little clumsier. On the third you almost slip. You skip the fourth and fall on the fifth, rolling down the stairs and landing face first in the snow. You scramble to get back to your feet and run to your car. You have to get home. You lock yourself in and don’t bother with the safety belt. You shove the key in the ignition and turn and turn but nothing happens. Did you leave it in the cold too long, or- There’s no time to think about it. You step out of the car and start running, into the freezing night. You have to get home, you have to get home now.

Cleanup time is always a hassle. You wish you didn’t have to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave the mess all to your partner. You two near the open trunk of the car and load the heavy cargo into it. Your companion seems the most affected by the weight, and you offer an apologetic smile. Fair is fair though; it was your turn to carry the feet end.

Skinny dipping had seemed like a good idea when your friend suggested it earlier, under the sweltering sun. Now, standing in front of the pool in your bathing suit, all by your lonesome, you start to regret having agreed to her scheme. Wasn’t she supposed to have arrived forty minutes ago? She said she’d bring people too, because skinny dipping alone isn’t fun. Well, now you are all alone in the cold, and you suspect that is even less fun. Just as you make up your mind to leave, you see a car through the chain link fence. It pulls up just before the gate and the engine turns off. That must be them.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Six: Go Alone

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! I hope you all are doing well. We get a touch salacious in this one, you could say. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @absurdthirst @kylolover96 @crownofmanga @eli-bourne

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

"So…" you began, swinging your legs back and forth nonchalantly from your customary spot in the co-pilot seat.

"If you have something to ask, then ask." The Mandalorian replied curtly.

Well that was encouraging. "I know it's none of my business, but I was...um, you and Xi'an, did you guys ever…" You trailed off, the reflection of your face in the back of his helmet reminding you anew of the prudence of silence. "You know what, f-forget I even asked, I'm sorry, I know I-"

"We did not." He interjected stiffly.

"Oh!" You hated the relief that bled into your voice, over-certain that he had picked up on it. "But...I mean, the way that she-"

"Ran asked some...things of me to, er, maintain the status quo on the team when we operated together. Xi'an was a...a loose cannon, too useful and dangerous to be left to her own devices." The bounty hunter explained. "She enjoys the hunt. So I was the unattainable quarry."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure what to make of that. "She...hunted...you?"

"Not literally. She'd be dead." He said flatly. "Figuratively."

"But you guys didn't like...y'know." You barely refrained from making some weird, suggestive gestures. You were relatively certain that would get you slabbed immediately, despite his assurances to the contrary.

He shrugged. "Nope. Wasn't interested in the compromises she offered, and she, even if she didn't know it, preferred the mystery over the man." His voice was soft. 

You wondered if he had wanted her to know him. Really know him. Asking that would be incredibly invasive though, even more so than you had been already, so you bit back the query in lieu of pretending to check the munitions terminal.

"Why?" 

You jumped at his question, even though he hadn't been overly loud or sharp. "I uh-! I just...I was just curious, that's all." You blustered, rushing to unbuckle the seat harness. "Sorry, excuse me, I hear the-"

He reached back and touched your wrist, halting you mid-flight. He didn't say anything. Hell, he didn't even turn in the seat. 

His fingers slowly wrapped around your wrist, squeezed once, and then he released you. 

Confused, flushed, your heart hammering in your throat, you escaped down the ladder into the sanctuary of the hold. 

Once there you sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest after a moment. Your face felt like it was on fire. What was that?! you asked yourself in a panic, your hands curling into tight fists over your knees. Was that his way of chastising you for being so nosy? Or was it something a little more difficult to define?

You could still feel the weight of his armored hand on your wrist, the gentleness of the squeeze that belied the raw strength he had displayed numerous times.

The child yawned awake in their bassinet and you lunged upright, more than ready for the distraction.

…

"Oh baby you're the only thing in this whole world that's pure and good and right." You began to sing several hours later, poking the frowning child and grinning when they burst into giggles. "And wherever you are and wherever you go, there's always gonna' be some light. But I gotta' get out, I gotta' break out now, before the final crack of dawn."

You scooped the kid up, swaying them back and forth in time with your singing.

"So we gotta' make the most of our one night together, cuz' when it's over, you know, we'll both be so alone…" You dipped the child, laughing through the chorus as they squealed and waved their tiny hands in glee. "Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes! When the night is over, like a bat out of hell, I'll be gone, gone, gone. Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes!"

You paused, posing dramatically and then continuing your madcap choreography with the child. They were clearly enjoying themselves, babbling along as you belted out the next part of the song and twirled through the hold.

"But when the day is done, and the sun goes down, and the moonlight's shining through...then, like a sinner before the gates of Heaven, I'll come crawling on back to you…" You gently tweaked the baby's nose, "you, youuuuu-" 

You spun around while taking a deep breath to carry on with the next verse, only to be met with the featureless stare of one Mandalorian bounty hunter. Your tune abruptly ended with a sharp hurk.

"You do cantina shows?" He asked casually after you had turned every shade of red imaginable. "You and the kid would be a hell of a performance." He slung one ankle over the other and leaned against the wall. "Came down to tell you that we're about ten minutes out from Sorgan."

"H-How long…" you trailed off, not sure if you really wanted to know. 

"Chorus." He answered the unfinished question. 

"Good. Great. Wonderful." You ducked your face to blow a raspberry on the child's cheek, using the time to effectively hide. Maker, this was so embarrassing!

"Was about to join in, but I prefer to leave singing and dancing to the professionals." He shrugged. "Singing is easier with a group of people who also wear armor and can't carry a tune to save their lives."

"You're not funny." You replied weakly.

"You sure about that, stowaway?"

"Positive. Unless you mean funny-looking."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "That cuts deep." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back slightly, giving you the impression that he was studying you. "I've set up a rendezvous location with Dune. Hopefully, I'll be there and back by tomorrow morning."

"Oh! She agreed?" You exclaimed, more than a little surprised.

"All I had to do was tell her the Imps were involved and she was chompin' at the bit." He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "That being said, I'm gonna' take the kid with me and have you mind the ship."

"W...What?" You asked, uncertain if you had heard him correctly. 

"Look, it makes sense this way. Tracking fobs will be on the child. If I have him with me, both myself and Cara can keep him safe. Meanwhile, you have the ship primed and ready for takeoff. The failsafe."

"But…"

"You have to see it the way I do. If someone came after you and the kid while I was gone-" He cleared his throat. "I don't want to consider the outcome. So I'll bring him with me."

"No, I get it." You said shortly, moving past him to secure the child in their bassinet for the impending landing. They pouted, seeming upset that their playtime had come to such a sudden end. "I know, little one. We'll have more fun later. I promise." You whispered.

"Please don't be angry." The armored man sighed.

"I'm not angry." You retorted, "I'm...I'm peeved."

"Sounds kind of like you're angry." 

"Well that just...shows how much you know." You grumbled, latching onto the ladder and hauling yourself up into the cockpit (theoretically to escape from the bounty hunter). But of course, he followed. It is his ship, after all, you reasoned begrudgingly.

With the two of you standing awkwardly in the cockpit, it was more than a little cramped. The Mandalorian shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want anything to happen. To either of you." He sounded tired. "Whether you like it or not, the kid's a magnet for trouble. And out of the two of us, I'm the better fighter."

"I know that." You whispered, staring at the floor.

"I'm not...look, I know you care about him just as much as I do. Probably more. I barely remember blowing a hole in that droid and just praying that I shot it before it shot you." He muttered. "The idea of something happening to y--to that little womp rat is...dammit, I don't know. Maybe Xi'an was right. Maybe the Creed has made me soft." His tone was more frustrated now.

"I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing." 

He huffed incredulously. "In my line of work?"

"Well, you may need to get new business chits." You allowed. "Ones that say things like 'bounty hunter, father of one'." 

He took your hands in his own, ignoring your pointed ribbing in favor of staring down at you. "I'll keep him safe." He assured you.

"You…" You shook your head, and then dropped your forehead to rest on his breastplate. "You had better." You whispered harshly.

The drive system beeped rapidly, signaling that the Crest was preparing to drop out of hyperspace. 

Which it did immediately. 

With extreme prejudice. 

You lost your balance and stumbled bodily into the Mandalorian, who lost his own footing and met the rear cockpit wall with a resounding clatter of beskar. He quickly shifted himself to press your back to the flat surface, his knees bent slightly to keep his balance and arms holding you steady while the ship's trajectory smoothed out. 

"You alright?" He finally asked, sounding a little breathless. He hadn't let go of you yet, probably waiting to make certain you were secure.

"Yeah, are you?" You responded in kind, worriedly looking up at him. "I hit you pretty hard, I'm sorry."

He swallowed audibly, taking an inordinate amount of time to reply, "I--I'm fine." 

"I guess this means it's time to get ready."

"Yeah." The Mandalorian nodded. Something strange lingered in the way he had his head bent low and slightly to the side, how soft his voice was. It settled into the pit of your stomach, leaving you tongue-tied in his arms. 

Early morning sunlight poured through the cockpit's transparent shielding, warming the steely blue of his armor to a fiery bronze. What would it be like to kiss him? The thought skittered through your mind and you felt a rush of shame, averting your eyes out of the nonsensical fear that he might be able to read your thoughts. Was it wrong to wonder about something like that if the object of the fantasy was a Mandalorian? 

"You...you can let go of me now." You pointed out quietly after several seconds. "I think we've evened out."

"Oh!" He exhaled sharply, scrambling to remove his hands. He bumped his helmet into your chin in his rush, flinching when you yelped in pain. "Shit, shit, hang on." He cupped your face, carefully framing your jaw so he could examine your mouth. "I'm sorry, that'll probably bruise." He said ruefully. 

"I'll be okay. Serves me right for treating you like a landing pad." You tried to joke, waving off his concern.

His thumb swept carefully beneath your split lower lip, the motion achingly cautious. "You're bleeding." He murmured, following it with another quiet, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'll be fine." You answered just as quietly. "It was an accident."

"I know, I just...I'll go get something for that."

…

A comlink was dropped into your waiting palm, and then the Mandalorian tapped the side of his helmet. "That's rigged to my in-ear. Just be careful with the talk button, it sticks sometimes."

"Of course, yeah." You said absently, closing your fingers around the small tube. 

"You're not listening." He observed, his shoulders sagging a little in resignation.

"N-No, I totally am!" You protested.

"You're concerned."

"...well, yes."

"Don't be." His helmet pressed to your forehead.

"You know, as much as you want to be an infallible constant or some...untouchable warrior, you're not." You closed your eyes. "I'm scared because things seem to be getting tighter and tighter. Like a noose." There it was. The honest truth. The low-lying panic that had your stomach in knots.

"That's the plan, yes." He stated ever-so-helpfully. His hands hovered warily for a second before gripping your shoulders. "Nothing will go wrong. And even if it does, I've gotten out of worse scrapes than some Imps trying to kill me." Maker, he might be the least capable person alive when it came to the task of reassuring someone.

"Is it so bad of me to not want you to have to get out of it in the first place?" You retorted. 

"No, of course not." He replied, sounding a little confused. "But this is how it's always been."

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm just...I'm being dumb again." You sighed. "Don't mind me."

He shook his head, then tipped it to the side. "You're not being dumb," He chastised, the tone of his voice strangely gentle again. "You're being careful. It's not your fault that I fight like I don't have anything to lose in nearly every situation." He hesitated for a moment. "It's...good of you to remind me. Makes me remember that I have others depending on me now." 

The smile was evident in his voice, and you felt your face light up despite your best efforts to maintain a neutral expression. "Well, good! You'd better stay safe, then. Promise me you will?"

The Mandalorian drew his thumb down the center of his breastplate, then tapped his fingers twice against his chin. "I promise." He said solemnly.

"What does that actually mean?" You asked curiously, gesturing at his chest.

"Thought in heart," He repeated the motion, "said with mouth. Two taps with two fingers on chin to indicate solid, rigid. Firm like beskar." You pulled your thumb down your chest and then tapped your chin in an approximation of his own gesture. He chuckled, moving forward and folding your fingers a little differently. "Just the first two of your hand. Index and middle. Trigger fingers." 

"D-Do you guys have other signs?" You queried, trying valiantly to hide how his touch had made your breath shudder.

"We wear helmets." He replied bluntly. "A lot of times we have to rely on gestures or body language instead of expressions." After a moment's pause he deadpanned, "this is the Way."

"Like what?"

He touched his hand to the side of his head, then fanned his fingers out. "Aru'e, enemy ahead, indicate how many with your fingers." He instructed, "So if there's three, you tuck your pinky, like this."

"What about this one?" You attempted to mimic the motion you had seen him direct at the child many times, startled when you heard him inhale roughly.

When he finally answered, his voice had a strange rasp to it. "Ad'ika. Little one, or Foundling. Start by pointing with two fingers. Again, solid, rigid, then one finger, for youth. Drag the thumb up from the corner of your mouth, for smile or joy, keep your hand open to indicate happiness." 

You clumsily tried to follow along, running through the gestures a few times until you didn't mix them up. Your heart squeezed in your chest as you realized that he had been silently referring to the child as a Foundling, as his Foundling. Possibly this entire time.

"Very good." He praised, thumping his armored knuckles against your own. "But just wait until we get to the difficult ones."

"How difficult are we talking?"

"You have shaadlar and nari, both of which mean move, but only one of them means to move. The other means move, just in general. So the gesture is like a shove, you put your whole arm into it like this…"

...

After he and the child left, you did your best to occupy yourself with some light repair work. The day stretched on like an interminable expanse, boredom and wariness combined to settle like a block of beskar in your stomach. 

You tried not to think about it, you really did. You didn't so much as touch the comlink. You kept yourself busy by sweeping out the hold, restacking and shoving the numerous crates into some semblance of order that wouldn't topple onto you in an emergency. Hell, you even used the cargo nets to actually secure the cargo. What was the world coming to?

Rain started to fall as the sun set, clouds tinted pink and orange from the fading rays. You squinted up at the sky and heaved a sigh, loathe to close yourself up in the Razor Crest but not incredibly eager to get rained on. 

You cast one last glance out towards the darkening woods as you waited for the hatch to close, shaking your head ruefully at your own behavior. This was pitiful.

You then proceeded to hang upside down in the ladder port long enough to give yourself a headache, staggering a little when you got to your feet. You fell into the captain's seat sideways, almost toppling off the other side of it with a quiet snicker. 

You wondered what he would say if he could see your antics. Probably something like, "get out of my chair, stowaway." Or maybe all you would get is that particular sigh he seemed to reserve just for you, the one that smacked of extra exasperation. You bit your lip, one foot on the floor moving the chair slightly side to side. 

How annoying. Right back where you started.

You cracked your knuckles and spread your fingers wide, imitating his sure motions as you hovered a safe distance above the toggles, switches and buttons on the control panels in front of you. You then shielded your eyes with your hand, staring studiously out from beneath your palm at the coniferous greenery that surrounded the Crest. 

"Hmm, yes stowaway, I see the problem." You mused theatrically, pitching your voice low to mimic his modulated tone, "the T of my visor appears to limit me to only seeing things that start with the letter T. Like tree." You turned your head, narrowing your eyes. "And troublemaker." Drawing an imaginary blaster, you sauntered over to the ladder port. "Alright quarry, you got two choices." You drawled, crouching by the port. "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in-"

You stopped dead, straining your ears. What was that noise? It sounded like…

It came again, louder this time. Like a wet boot hitting the floor with a dull splat. Your heart began to pound and you reached for your knife. I'm trapped up here. How did they get in? I set the proximity alarms-!

If it was Klatoonians, you could kiss your ass goodbye. They would be out for revenge, probably assuming that the Mandalorian was onboard. But you weren't about to give them an easy time.

You waited at the top of the ladder, holding your breath for what felt like forever. Every once in a while, you would hear that sound again and it would send a new rush of trepidation through you. You waited, and waited.

And waited.

The suspense was going to kill you before whatever was in the hold could.

You finally let your breath out in a slow rush, steeling yourself. The hold was still illuminated with the running lights. You should have a fighting chance against whoever was down there. At least, you wouldn't be fumbling totally in the dark. That was kind of like having an advantage, right?

Before you could think better of essentially throwing yourself at the enemy, you slid down the ladder and whirled to face your aggressor. "I'm warning you, I'm-!" You trailed off in confusion, looking around warily at the seemingly-vacant hold. "...armed?"

Down at your feet, there was a quiet splat and a mudjumper bumped into the side of your boot.

You sighed, "you've got to be fucking kidding me." You squatted down, scooping up the befuddled creature. "You little bastard. I ought to feed you to the kid." You threatened, giving it a tap on the snout. "I thought you were somebody coming to destroy me."

The mudjumper blinked up at you, and then licked one of its eyes. You grimaced. 

"Yeesh. Alright, I'm evicting you." Elbowing the button to open the bottom slat of the ramp, you tipped the amphibious beast back out into the woods. "And good riddance." You huffed, brushing your hands off on your tunic. 

...

Late that evening you sprawled out on the floor of the cockpit, just enough room between the seats and the door to keep you comfortable. You could have slept in the bunk, of course, but you had been avoiding it. The memories of that droid staring you down were a bit too fresh at this particular juncture.

You had the comlink on the floor next to your head in case you needed it. You had checked and doublechecked the proximity alarm system. All was quiet in the woods around the Razor Crest. The only thing left was to shut your eyes and attempt to sleep.

Half an hour later you huffed in aggravation, rolling over onto your back for what felt like the hundredth time. Overhead, rain pattered softly against the clear cockpit shielding. 

Your gaze lingered on the comlink, picking it up after a momentary debate and pressing the button on the side. "H-Hey, are you there?" Your throat was so dry all of a sudden.

"Yeah." He replied almost immediately. "Trouble?"

You closed your eyes in relief at the familiar sound of his voice. "No, sorry. I just…figured I'd check in before I go to bed. Status update."

"Made it to the rendezvous point. Set up a post here for the night. Will head out at dawn if no contact." He said quietly, static softening his modulation. 

"How's the baby?"

"Tired." There was a muffled rustling noise. "He conked out as soon as we stopped moving."

"Make sure he eats, please."

"Copy."

You sat there awkwardly for several seconds before clicking the button one last time to wish him a peaceful night (which he didn't respond to, of course) and placing the comlink carefully back on the floor. You wrapped your arms around your legs, thumping your forehead against your knees in frustration. "Why is it so hard to talk to him?" You mumbled. "Gods, I just…" You trailed off, rubbing at your eyes. "This is stupid. I'm being stupid." You berated yourself, sliding down onto your back even as you spoke.

You stared up at the rain-speckled shielding for several more minutes, chewing on your lower lip feverishly while you replayed his voice in your head. Even when he didn't speak, he somehow managed to say what he needed to. You thought of the tilt of his helmet when he was studying something, the way his hands hungrily devoured his environment. He could be as bad as the kid sometimes when it came to touching things. 

Then, there was the soft hitch of his breath when he had to speak a little louder; his vast library of groans, grunts and sighs. For being so stoic, he certainly made a lot of noises. Noises that, should your mind be so inclined towards thinking in a more lascivious manner, piqued your interest.

A wicked thought came to you, riding on the memory of him being poisoned. Honest words tumbling out of his mouth in a frenzy, the way he had looked at you, really looked at you. You could feel his stare even through his visor, "nice t' look at, too."

Did he really think about you like that? And earlier, when the ship had dropped out of hyperspace...

Born of your loneliness, or maybe just touch-starved infatuation, your imagination conjured up a racy scenario for you to enjoy. The idea of him settling in between your legs with a modulator-filtered curse had your breath quickening, and you warred momentarily with your guilt. Ludicrously, you came up with the justification that as long as you didn't imagine him without his helmet, it probably wasn't that offensive. 

Effectively granted permission for your thoughts, you undid the clasps on your placket and shoved your pants down around your ankles. Tonight, you decided, you would take your time. You were truly alone for the first instance in what felt like a short eternity, and it was time to indulge. 

You rolled over and got your knees beneath you, arching your back. Your trembling palm traveled down the length of your body, the slightly-colder skin making you dream of the slide of beskar on your sensitive belly and thighs. The first graze of your fingers had you whimpering into your blanket, gods it had been too long. You were barely even wet yet and already you were aching. You sobbed out a breath, your chest rubbing against the blanket with your motions. 

In your mind, however, it was the Mandalorian cupping your breasts, the Mandalorian's fingers that tortured you in near silence. You canted your hips, whispering, "please," already begging for more. Would he keep his gloves on during the act, stain the leather with your arousal? Or would he be too hungry to resist touching you barehanded? "Stars, please-" 

You plucked at your nipple with a soft little whine and teased yourself with your fingers at the edge of your entrance. How full would he make you feel? Would he shove himself in all at once, or make you beg for it? Would he tease you?

Your fingers plunged in and you gasped, your eyes rolling back in your head when you curled your index. Just thinking about him touching you in this way was enough to have you in spasm! Stars, you had it bad. 

But what if he wanted you just as much as you wanted him? What if, what if...

"Oh please fuck me…" you moaned. "I need you, pl-please-" It felt silly, but also infinitely hotter to finally say it out loud, almost as if you were practicing for the real thing. "Gods, fuck me open with that Mandalorian cock, please please please-" you rambled, giving in to the urge to be as filthy as you wished. 

Your own sense of touch faded away, replaced with the scuff of imaginary leather or the sleek glide of beskar. What would he sound like? Would he be vocal? Or would he be stoic, silent, just taking what he needed from you?

"I'm so wet for you." You crooned, spreading your legs a little wider. "So wet, just for you…" Slick pooled in your palm when you ground your clit down against the heel of your hand, the heated noise it made startlingly loud in the quiet of the cabin. "I want to feel your cock, want to know what you feel like inside me, gods, please…"

You had never felt so boldly lewd in all your life as you fucked yourself with your own fingers, your mouth running away from you when you sped up.

"It's not enough." You panted. "Not enough, my fingers aren't enough…gods, I need my Mandalorian to fuck me right. Please, please please I need you." You bit down on the blanket, rocking your hips against your hand frantically. "Please, please, fill me up, please, fuck me, fuc-k me…" you begged into the fabric, your thighs quivering as your body pulled tight in anticipation.

When you came apart, it was like stars filled your eyes. You writhed against your own hand, hips shuddering out of sync. You wished that he was inside you, you wished more than anything that you could feel him-

"I'm coming, please-" You whimpered through your orgasm, relaxing boneless on the blanket as exhaustion finally dragged at you.

When you could move again, you wiped your fingers off on your thigh and stretched, moaning in self-satisfaction before tugging your pants back up. Then, you shakily got to your feet to go clean yourself up in the refresher. 

You barely remembered getting back to your blankets, slumber already encroaching even as you climbed the ladder up to the cockpit.

…

The next morning you awoke early, feeling incredibly refreshed and chipper. Clearly that evening of hands-on indulgence was what you had been missing from your life, and you vowed to make more time for yourself in the future.

After your hearty breakfast of canned meat and some vegetables you managed to scare up, you retrieved the comlink to check in on the Mandalorian. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, all clear on my end. ETA?" 

No reply. 

You frowned, turning the small tube over in your hand. The button to talk was still depressed even after you had released it, effectively silencing any message that might have been directed at you. You pursed your lips and tugged out your knife, carefully using the tip to free up the button. Then, you tried again, this time being more delicate with the button so it didn't get caught. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, sorry for any feedback. Technical difficulties. All clear on my end. ETA?"

"I told you the damn button would get stuck if you weren't careful." He griped, making you grin.

"Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" You teased.

"Didn't sleep well. We're fifteen minutes out, Dune walking drag. No pursuers yet, but get everything stowed and ready." He ordered curtly.

"Will do." You replied, saluting even though he couldn't see you. 

It didn't take much time for you to have all equipment squared away in preparation to launch, and you waited impatiently at the top of the loading ramp to spot the gleam of his armor through the trees. 

Soon enough, out he and Cara strode with the child in tow. The little one was babbling wildly as they toddled along beside the two adults, obviously carrying on quite the conversation. "Dune!" You greeted the ex-trooper happily, getting pulled into a rib-cracking hug for your trouble. "And I missed you!" You sang to the kid, scooping them up off the ground to briefly fly overhead. "Were you good for your papa?" You asked, beeping their nose softly. "Didn't cause him any trouble, right?"

You heard the Mandalorian sputter strangely, the armored man suddenly struck by a fit of coughing. Cara thumped him on the back worriedly. "Tadpole's an angel. Eats all his vegetables and everything." She assured you with a grin.

"Enough small talk. There's still one more stop after this." The Mandalorian managed to say, straightening back up and fidgeting with his gauntlets.

"Are you alright?" You asked, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. He actually jumped at the contact and you pulled back, confused.

"Sorry, I...I didn't get much sleep." His chuckle sounded forced, but he still bumped his helmet briefly against your forehead before he headed up the boarding ramp. 

Carasynthia cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowed at the armored man's back. But all she did was huff out a breath and follow after him, leaving you to bring up the rear with the child. "All that battle-rattle must be scrambling his brain." She muttered to you, making you snicker.

"Sit down and strap in." The Mandalorian called, already halfway up the ladder to the cockpit.

"Well pollywog, you heard the boss." Dune shrugged at the child, smirking when they started giggling. "Stars, why can't human kids be as nice as this one? Human kids always look like angry piglets."

…

The final stop between Sorgan and Nevarro was on Arvala-7.

An old Ugnaught came to greet you all at the door of what was clearly his modest moisture farm, his deep-set eyes roving over the group laid out in front of him. "I see your family has grown, Mandalorian. More Foundlings?" He asked dryly.

"I need your help." The armored man rasped, getting right to the point.

"I assumed as much. Why else would you return? Come in, all of you. Whatever you need, I'm certain it can wait until after supper." The Ugnaught urged, waving for you to follow.

The small dwelling was somewhat cramped with everyone squeezed into the common area, and you kept accidentally bumping elbows with Cara. After the Ugnaught had plated some strange-looking concoction (which ended up tasting surprisingly good), he settled down into his chair with a grunt. "I too have gained an addition, my armored friend." He mused, gesturing towards the doorway.

A tall, thin droid carefully bent nearly double to enter the structure, a tray gripped in its digits. "Would anyone care for some tea?" It enquired.

Before it had finished speaking the Mandalorian had his blaster out and aimed. You blinked up at him, a little startled. The Ugnaught raised a peaceable hand. "Please, please, lower your blaster. It will not harm you."

"That thing is programmed to kill the baby." The Mandalorian snapped furiously.

"What?!" You shrieked, hurrying to unsheath your vibroblade. Cara's elbow slammed against your bicep as she pulled her own blaster out and you yelped, almost losing your grip on the knife.

The droid's multiple sets of eyes whirred in the silence that followed, the metallic being observing the weapons leveled at it. "That was its intended purpose, yes. But I have rebuilt it." The Ugnaught answered serenely.

"How much of it, though?" You waved your hands, sputtering, "I don't mind droids, but hell."

"Your Mandalorian trusts me, or at least my work. IG-11 no longer poses a threat to the child." 

"I trust it under certain circumstances." The armored man muttered, his blaster staying exactly where it was. "Is it still a hunter?"

"No. But it will protect."

The IG unit seemed to be staring at the Mandalorian, who was glaring back at it harder than you had ever seen him glare. Really putting his shoulders into it.

"Tea?" The droid offered him a steaming cup, clenched in spindly fingers. You heard the Mandalorian exhale hard as Cara nodded in his stead, holstering her blaster and gingerly accepting the cup. At least one of you could be polite!

The Ugnaught rose from his chair after several tense moments had passed, stating that he needed to feed the blurrgs. The Mandalorian stalked out behind him, the armored man transparently attempting to have a private conversation. "Watch that." He ordered you curtly, gesturing at the droid.

You nodded, gamely turning to stare intently at the machine that was currently standing in a...well, not very menacing fashion. You imagined most individuals, even trained killing robots, wouldn't look particularly threatening while balancing a tray of tea-things. 

"I appear to have upset him." IG-11 commented after a moment of enduring your stare. "This was not my intention."

"Don't beat yourself up about it." Cara remarked with a touch of amusement. "He's got some weird thing about droids."

Your mind flew back to Z, the droid that had cornered you in the bunk. "I kind of understand why." You said quietly. "There was...well, an incident, with the kid and I." Cara raised an eyebrow. "We got...we were, um. We were trapped, in the bunk."

"Oh." The ex-trooper said weakly. "Well. I guess I can...I guess I'll give him that one then. Someone was going after the tyke?" She asked, reaching out a gentle hand to said tyke. The kid babbled happily, their little fingers grasping at Cara's.

"Yeah, it was a droid. One of the compound-eyed ones, too fast for me to stop it." You mumbled. "All I had was my knife."

Cara was quiet for a while, just swinging the baby's arm to and fro. "If you do not require further libations, I shall go and assist Kuiil." The droid announced stiffly, breaking the silence. 

"Wait!" You exclaimed, rushing to stand. "Just, um, wait until they come back, please?" You went on to hastily suggest, "can you, uh, show me where to put the dishes? Maybe we can clean this up while they're busy."

The droid's head rotated on a strange axis, so it took you a second to realize that it was nodding at you. "Of course. It is part of my normal duties to clear the table. It would be wise for me to accomplish this task before attempting a new one."

Inwardly you breathed a sigh of relief, almost positive that you had saved this droid from certain doom. You couldn't help but wonder how the Mandalorian knew this particular IG unit was programmed to kill the child. Perhaps they had crossed paths previously?

…

The Mandalorian's discussion with the Ugnaught Kuiil secured him not only his support, but the help of the droid as well and apparently, several blurrg. 

You were certain this trip would be a logistical nightmare. Good thing you had spent nearly an entire day cleaning out the hold! Even with the room made by stacking things properly, it would no doubt be a snug fit.

Kuiil insisted that you all stay the night either way, the Ugnaught's tone brooking no argument. The Mandalorian had heaved a sigh, but acquiesced. 

The child was already drowsy, the potent combination of a full belly and busy day working overtime to ensure a restful night. Kuiil actually rustled up a small crate for the kid to sleep in, his large hands remarkably careful as he swaddled the yawning child in an old quilt.

You were just settling them into their makeshift bed for the evening when you heard the familiar rattle of beskar. The armored man poked his head into the room after a momentary delay, his voice quiet when he requested your presence in the Crest as soon as possible.

You glanced up at him, a little confused. "Me? But-" You began to protest, indicating downwards at the child.

Cara nudged you towards the doorway, her lips quirked into an odd, almost smug smile. "I can manage tucking in the pollywog for tonight. Go help him out." She urged.

Part Seven

[berrykook]

can’t bear it (y!hs)

set in the overtime universe

in which hoseok is just trying to help you understand that he knows what’s best for you and you feel yourself start to slip

contents: yandere!hoseok, kidnapping, “gaslighting” / manipulation, vomit, gore / mutilation, good/bad little girl rhetoric

word count: 3.7k

a/n: thanks for the request !! i had fun writing it heheh

i’m tagging gaslighting in quotations because i feel like hoseok is like,, KiNdA gaslighting but pretty lightly

also idk why my mc’s always be throwing up LOL it’s just for a second i swear

my inbox is open for yandere requests! i do not write non-con, hitting (punching, slapping, etc.), or ddlg / ageplay (in this fic i included good/bad little girl rhetoric because i thought it would make hoseok seem more spooky but otherwise i do not write ageplay --- use of word daddy is ok)

lmk what u guys think!

*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ 

Your stomach softly growled as you stared down into your takeout box of noodles and studied the way the sauce doesn’t cling to some vegetables. Hoseok ordered your favorite again, but you couldn’t remember ever loving this dish. He must have been referring to the time before he brought you to live with him (an incident in which your head was hit very hard).

Hoseok stared at you like he always did, refusing to eat until he saw you take the first bite. He sat with his hands folded, watching you and your hazy mind work through dinnertime. All you had to do was pick up your chopsticks and eat, but something in you could not bring yourself to do so.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Not hungry?”

Whether it was intentional or not, Hoseok’s tone never came out of the woods. He spoke slowly in low tones as if he was always ready to pounce on you. You wondered if he spoke to his employees the same way.

You gingerly picked up your chopsticks.

“You haven’t been eating well lately. Is something wrong?” Hoseok is wringing his hands now. You began to stare back at him.

You remained silent for a long moment before saying clearly, “Yes. I don’t feel well.”

Hoseok clicks his tongue, rising from his seat across from you to sit next to you instead. He rests his hand on yours. Hoseok wasn’t overly affectionate which you were lucky for at the beginning of this relationship, but you now felt touch-starved and undesirable. He held an immense amount of power over you and he knew it too.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he mumbled, placing a palm against your forehead. “You’re not warm. I seriously doubt you’re sick, you never are. Tell me what’s wrong, please.” He leaned in closer.

You held back a huff of frustration, knowing how angry he got when you weren’t his perfect little girl. Hoseok knew exactly how to get under your skin and scare you shitless. If you weren’t careful and deliberate with every motion, every phrase, every word, he would catch on in a heartbeat and do whatever it took to show you he owned you. It only took three days in his basement for you to confess your love for him and start begging to be let out.

You fidgeted nervously, quickly glancing at the front door behind Hoseok. He hadn’t let you out in nearly six months and as much as you loved him, you were beginning to get antsy.

Hoseok was scary, but treated you well. He thoroughly explained on several occasions how much you needed him and how he loved you so deeply that it was in his very nature to keep you protected from the world like this. He even let you free from being chained in his basement after only a couple weeks, which was awesome! Hoseok never called himself your boyfriend, but you figured he was close enough. He fed you when you weren’t being bad and he recited his love for you often. It terrified you when you first met that time you woke up in his basement, but with time you found yourself believing him more and more. This was not living, but you were becoming so far gone from your past that it seemed like perhaps this sheltered life was what you were meant to receive.

Hoseok studied you deeply, noticing immediately how your eyes darted behind him at the front door. He sighed, mentally preparing himself to pull out all the stops to get the idea out of your pretty little head.

“Mm, baby, are you bored? Did you want to go outside?” He smiled a bit, stroking the back of your head and looking at you sweetly.

Immediately, you furrowed your brows and gripped his hand tighter. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“You must be tired of being cooped up in the house all day...don’t you want to see what’s out there?”

Hoseok stood up, placing a hand on your back to guide you up as well.

“H-Hobi, I don’t need to. I don’t mind staying inside…” you said bashfully, tugging his hand to lead him back into his chair.

His smile was wide like the Cheshire Cat’s. He reached to hold your face by your chin.

“No, I’m sure you must be going crazy being in here all day. Let’s go outside. Maybe you can run around a bit so your appetite can return.”

You weren’t stupid. You saw from the windows that Hoseok lived in a deep forest and made a lengthy commute each day to the city for his work. Perhaps Hoseok was feeling particularly sadistic today. You had been on your best behavior as of late - you listened well, ate when you didn’t feel ill, wore what he chose for you, told him you loved him and cuddled him and let him kiss you. His obtuseness came completely out of left field. You were the best little girl you could be - it made no sense.

“Hobi, I’m really hungry now. I would like to eat.” By the end of your statement, you were whispering fearfully as he was now leaning in close enough to kiss you.

“Don’t be silly. I saw you looking at the door. Come on,” he tugged you along, bending to tie your shoes for you.

“Hoseok, I really think I should go eat, please. I don’t want to go outside, it’ll be cold and dark and we’re in the forest, pl-”

“You know you want to leave. Don’t you? Wasn’t it only a few weeks ago you were saying you wanted to leave me?”

You’re crying now. “No! Please, I don’t want to leave, I love you, I swear! Hobi, I’ve changed!” Hoseok ignores your cries, pushing you out the front door with a smack on your ass.

“Be back in an hour, sweetheart. I don’t want the wild animals to find you.”

He slammed the door in your face and you began to hyperventilate for a moment. You knew he didn’t retreat from his spot at the door and he could clearly hear your cries. How did just looking at the door for a moment lead to this?

You spent a few minutes on your knees, bawling into your hands on the front porch. The tall forest prematurely made it nightfall at the ground level. After another few minutes, something caught your eye deeper into the woods. You stood slowly, hoping you were correct.

It was a car. A parked red van within walking distance of Hoseok’s house. Your legs moved on their own towards it. You were certain it didn’t belong to Hoseok as you kissed him goodbye from outside his black sedan each day. The drive to get away from Hoseok kicked in like a horse as you began running towards this car, desperate for help or some more information on where in the country the house was. If you were lucky, somebody would be in the car.

You were close enough to read the license plate when a searing pain shot through your leg and burned every cell in your body. You fell forward, coughing up a bit of your stomach after. You screamed for a moment, but then your body stopped taking in air effectively and you were left on the ground like a fish out of water.

You sobbed, desperately searching for a switch or button to release the contraption stuck around your ankle. Just a few yards from the car, chained to a tree was a steel bear trap that you stepped into perfectly. The claws dug well into the flesh on your leg, pouring blood over the forest floor as your heartbeat became erratic. Its jaws were locked far too strongly for you to pry apart. The house was barely visible to you now as the sun set completely and you were utterly stuck by this soccer mom van in the middle of god knows where.

The clock continued to tick as your hour of “freedom” was coming to a close. You wanted to throw up again at the sight of yourself. You nearly called out to Hoseok for help, but restrained yourself quickly. He was right - he always was. He was right for keeping you inside the way he did. You couldn’t even run half a mile into the forest without getting caught in a bear trap. The clinking of metal chains reminded you of your time in Hoseok’s basement and how cold it was and how hungry you became. You were hungry now as well, even through the nausea, and you let out a sad cry as your stomach growled angrily again. If Hoseok ever saved you again, you would eat everything he put in front of you with gusto. You leaned your head against the thick trunk of the tree you were chained to and watched the bugs on the floor crawl by. Your heart twinged as you missed Hoseok after just an hour apart. You felt you were no better than the insects you were watching. 

The pain in your leg was unlike anything you had felt before. You knew it was unrealistic to die from a bear trap, but you felt like you were at the brink. You had long since given up trying to claw the trap apart, stopping when the third of your fingernails split. The blood from your ankle made its way all over the white sweater Hoseok had picked out for you that morning. Hopefully an actual bear would come by and put you out of your misery before Hoseok could come by and chastise you for getting your clothes dirty.

Eventually, you heard his voice through the trees. “Sweetheart!” His voice sang and you panicked at the thought of how angry he would be that you got yourself hurt. You saw a light coming from the direction of your house and you braced yourself to soon be found.

You didn’t have the energy to yell back at him, so you waited for him to find you instead. Hoseok was smarter than you would like to admit and he obviously already knew that you wouldn’t make it far. Yet, he took his sweet, sweet time searching for you.

Eventually, his flashlight landed on your chest and you looked away, nervous to see him. He sighed.

“Oh, baby...look what you did,” he tsked. He stood above you with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. He made a noise of disdain when your lower lip began to tremble. “Hurts, doesn’t it? I would help make it all better, but you’ve been such a bad girl lately. I thought you knew better than to go outside, but I guess you just couldn’t listen to me.”

You covered your mouth to hide your snivelling. “I’m s-so sorry!”

“I know you are, baby. See, if you listen to me and stay inside like a good girl, then these things won’t happen. What am I gonna do with you?” Hoseok bent down to face level with you, still sitting against the tree trunk shivering in immense pain. “I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, and earlier you sure made it clear that you don’t want to be in my house with me…”

You sobbed, reaching to hold his shoulders. “No! I want to go back home and be with you. I’m sorry for being ungrateful, I just want to be with you!” Hoseok clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Is that really what you want, baby? You really want to come back and live with me?” Hoseok spoke slowly, letting you marinate in the ache of your calf. He knew you loved him. Putting you in solitary confinement for the first two months was more than enough for you to worship the ground he walks on. Some days, he just needed to tease you a little.

“Yes, please. I’m sorry, I’ll never leave you, I swear.” Hoseok stared at you with a smile before taking your face into his hands and kissing you for a long moment.

“Good. Jin-hyung is going to help you with your leg, okay?”

Hoseok fishes in his pockets before pulling out a silver key and unlocking the chains around the tree.

“Wow, baby, you must have really run into this trap for it to have closed on you so hard...we better take it out in the house.”

You stared at him in shock. “This...this trap was yours?” Hoseok smoothed the top of your head.

“Everything on this land is mine,” he hissed with a sweet smile. 

“B-but, I’ve never seen you drive this car. And why do you have bear traps!? You don’t hunt, Hoseok!” You are steadily becoming more hysterical and Hoseok sighs, hugging you to him. You holler at the pain of him shifting your leg.

“Baby, this is Jungkook’s car. You remember him, right? He’s taking his fianceè to Busan soon and they’ll need a car to hold their kids someday. He’s keeping it here because his apartment only gives him one parking space.” Hoseok kisses your cheek, rubbing your back when your crying intensifies. Ah, he’ll need to bring you back home soon before you lose too much blood. “You can understand that, can’t you?”

Hyperventilating on top of a foot caught in a bear trap had you lightheaded. You rested your cheek against Hoseok’s shoulder. “How am I supposed to get this off my foot?” You sobbed.

Hoseok cooed, rubbing your back a little harder. “I thought you knew what’s best for yourself...since you’re such a big girl and you always take ca-”

You cut him off with a wail. “Hoseok, please help me! I’ll die here, please!” He hissed at your yelling on his shoulder.

“Shh, stop that! Ah, I guess I can try and help you get back to the house. I thought you didn’t need someone like me…” Hoseok got started on unchaining the trap.

“No, I-I do need you! I’m sorry, I’ll never act out again…” you mumbled ashamedly. Hoseok heaved you up with a pained scream from you. He kissed your cheek in a lame attempt to calm you.

“Yeah? Are you going to be my good girl and stay inside the house?”

You cried a bit harder when he said this, remembering how you bawled on his front steps after he shut the door on you.

“Yes, I promise,” you whimpered.

“Good. Jin-hyung will be here in an hour to help fix you. Shh, don’t cry, I know it’s a long time,” he whispered to you. You cried all the way to the house and all the way down the concrete stairs to Hoseok’s basement.

“I don’t like it here, Hobi, please...can’t we go somewhere else?” Hoseok calmed your weeping by playing with your hair.

“This is what’s best. I’m here with you, my love...remember I love you so much.” He kissed your forehead softly. “We’ll get you out of this mess.”

You wrapped your hands around the sheets of the bed Hoseok placed you on and writhed in agony.

“It hurts,” you mumbled, still crying softly.

Hoseok cooed, “Aw, my baby…”

The anger within you began to rise like a tidal wave. Perhaps it was being back in this bed under Hoseok’s house, or perhaps you were finally understanding the lengths Hoseok would go to in order to claim you. The throbbing in your ankle aligned with a new throbbing in your head. Hoseok lay with you on the bed you woke up chained to all those months ago when he first took you. It took three strokes to the top of our head for you to snap.

“You did this to me,” you whispered, turning your face away from him.

Hoseok stopped stroking your hair as if he had just been doused with cold water.

“Huh? Say that again for me, baby, I didn’t quite hear you.” Hoseok tangled his fingers in your hair. You braced yourself for a harsh tug.

“This is your trap. I didn’t even want to go outside. I wasn’t even being bad.”

You didn’t force yourself to look at him as you spoke. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had stood up to him...was it recent? Wasn’t it during those first three days in his basement? It felt like a dream.

“I’ve been perfect these last few months. You kidnapped me yet I have been perfect for you! I didn’t deserve this!” You were steadily becoming hysterical. It felt good to let yourself become unraveled after weeks of living complacently in his clutch. Hoseok still hadn’t said anything, still keeping his hand gently against your scalp.

“How could you do this to me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me and you put me in a bear trap for what? Not eating my dinner? I didn’t eat because you make me sick!”

At this point, Hoseok began calmly rising from the bed and making his way over to your trapped foot. You barely noticed, too wound up in your angry rant. You didn’t care anymore. There was just no right way to be Hoseok’s victim, and there was no hope for escape either. You were surrounded by miles of forest and the only communication with other humans was Hoseok’s equally repulsive friends and two of them were moving across the country soon. You envied them and their stupid red van and happy little life. You had only met Jungkook and his fiancèe once, but they seemed to love each other deeply. You once wished for something like that, at least before Hoseok came into your life.

“You stupid motherfucker! Piece of shit! Fix my fucking leg, you asshole!” Hoseok watched you yell with blank eyes before cracking a slight smile. He chuckled, adoring the way your tongue was so sharp.

“Are you done, sweetie?” He massaged your calves. The pain in your foot almost felt as hot as the rage bubbling through your veins at the moment.

“You’re going to burn in hell for what you’ve done to me. Son of the devil,” you hissed.

Hoseok grinned wordlessly again before placing his hands on both sides of the bear trap and releasing its jaws with a manly grunt. A scream ripped through you, dying into dry sobs after a moment. You supposed it was good that he did it when you were furious and the adrenaline was pushing you off the edge.

Hoseok was panting heavily. “Baby, did you know that some animals gnaw their own limbs off to free themselves from bear traps?” You watched with a glare as he fiddled with the contraption. You prayed that he would be offended enough to just kill you already. “I haven’t seen it happen myself. Some hunters find bear traps inhumane for that very reason. I understand. The animal has done no wrong, correct?” The shoddy lighting of his basement cast a shadow over his face.

“I can’t imagine how it would feel to be so helpless like that...so scared and alone...you must have felt that way back in that forest, huh? Baby?” You refused to entertain him any longer. Hoseok was being oddly soft-spoken and gentle with his tone. It wasn’t often that he brought out this voice.

“You must be so upset, huh? Scared, maybe even suicidal. You might even feel like a lost cause.” The trap snapped back into its original open position with a clang. “I’ve never viewed you that way. All I’ve ever seen you as was my perfect girl, even when you weren’t being so good. I never lost hope in you. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to snap out of it and love me too and fucking mean it.” His tone turned angry for a second, but he quickly shut it down. You stared at how he held the open trap with such expertise.

“You might think you were being so careful and good, but I see right through you. I just know you so well, baby. I knew deep down, there was still a part of you that defied me, even though I just wanted you to be your best self. I knew there was still some part of you left for me to crack apart and mold to include me with it.”

You were much more dizzy now.

“I’m doing this for your own good. So we can be happy together.”

You caught on with a start, sitting up quickly. You couldn’t even get one word out before Hoseok swiftly grabbed your good foot with a heavy hand and positioned it on the plate of the open trap. He jumped back, successfully evading the teeth of the trap which were now clamped around your other foot.

You let out a gut-wrenching scream. Not only did you scream from the pain of the bear trap, but also from the pain of the cold basement, the pain of the thick woods that surrounded the house. Hoseok watched you thrash on the bed as if you were possessed. Both of your ankles poured out blood and soiled the white bed sheets you lay on.

“Honey, be careful! Look at what happened to the sheets,” he tsked. “Ah, look at what you’ve done. How did my silly girl manage to get caught into two traps in one day? What am I gonna do with you?”

You began bawling again as Hoseok remained standing over you. His voice remained sickly sweet and you found yourself yearning for him to taunt you with his usual nasty tone.

“I want to die,” you weep. Hoseok seemed affected by this for a second before reverting back to his calm stance.

He silently came back around the bed, placing a kiss on your forehead once more before making his way up the concrete stairs. You thought about calling out to him for a moment, but ultimately decided not to. Hoseok shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. You wouldn’t be able to walk anyway. He made his way to the kitchen, stretching as he did so, and opened a cabinet in search of some tea. Your cries were barely audible over the hum of the microwave heating his water.

[jisungsmochi]

wild heart - njm

summary: “we won’t look back, take my hand and we will shine”

when na jaemin shows up at your doorstep at 1am, demanding you accompany him on a ‘secret adventure’, you’re just about ready to slap the living daylights out of him. but it couldn’t hurt to do something wild for just one night...

word count: 2.4k 

a/n: trust me i did not forget about this series! this is the second installment! you can read jisung’s one here <3 

//

I was walking away,

But she's so beautiful it made me stay

I don't know her name,

But I'm hoping she might feel the same

So here I go again,

She got my heart again!

for jaemin, the first few weeks of college was filled with endless gatherings with the freshman class. he didn’t mind tagging along, but it all got too much when he, and the rest of his friends, were at some random karaoke bar on campus. haechan was belting his heart out to old school justin bieber whole renjun was filming the entire fiasco.

“he’s a goner” jaemin thought to himself, wondering why he was still even there. he had an early lecture the next day, so he quickly said his goodbyes to his friends before heading towards the door. it was until, he saw you standing against the wall near the exit, watching haechan’s antics unfold. jaemin swore he had seen you before but couldn’t put his finger on it. you seemed to have noticed the doe eyed boy staring at you. you weren’t sure how to react, opting to just giving him a quick raise of your eyebrows. jaemin snapped out of his trance. he considered walking back to his friends, incase you were going to stick around for a while. but he watched as you made your way out of the bar, leaving him standing there alone.

“you alright buddy?” jeno curiously raised his eyebrows as he grabbed onto his friend’s shoulder. jaemin was startled, pulling away from the other boy before shaking his head.

“i’m fine, getting pretty tired though, ready to head back?” jaemin tried to divert the conversation as jeno caught on. jaemin couldn’t get you out of his mind, it bothered him that he recognised you. but he truly wasn’t sure where or when. hopefully he would soon.

Tonight we’ll dance,

I’ll be yours and you’ll me mine

We won’t look back,

Take my hand and we will shine

another college party came about. jaemin wasn’t too keen on attending, but something inside him was telling him to go.

“you reckon she’ll be there?” jaemin asked jeno, who was tying his shoelaces.

“i don’t know, man. there’s a lot of people going, some who don’t even live on campus. don’t tell me you’re going to search for her all night!” jeno sighed, he thought it was completely ridiculous that jaemin didn’t even know your name yet, but he was still so interested in you.

“pfft no, i was just curious” jaemin sighed to himself, putting on large denim jacket before heading out of the dorm room, jeno following closely behind.

they both made it to the party, people already scattered across the lawn and front living room. jaemin wasn’t surprised to see haechan standing on a table as he made people watch him take shots.

“haechan, get down from there, you’re going to hurt yourself” renjun rolled his eyes in frustration, already tired of the other boy’s antics.

“i’m sorry i can’t hear you, i’m having too much fun” haechan stuck out his tongue. 

jaemin chuckled at the whole scene, excusing himself to grab a drink. as he was about to pour himself a cup of cola, his eyes landed on someone’s hand reach for the same bottle. he looked over at the person next to him,

“hey, you” he stuttered. you looked at him with furrowed brows, recognising his face.

“oh hey, guy from the bar” you smiled, instantly remembering him. how could you forget? he was giving you intense googly eyes that night.

“you remember me?” he smirked, proud that he already made an impression.

“yeah, you were the guy who was staring me down, could never forget you” you teased as he frowned. he handed you the bottle as you poured yourself a cup.

“that was pretty creepy, i do sincerely apologise” he sighed, unsure of what else to say to you. you noticed he was getting more sheltered, so you decided to continue the conversation.

“isn’t that your friend from the bar? the one who can hit some hella high notes in karaoke?” you pointed to haechan who was now laying on the table top, face down.

“yep, that’s him. can’t really take him anywhere without there being a scene” jaemin joked, causing you to almost snort out your drink.

“oh my god that was so embarrassing” you quickly grabbed some napkins to wipe off the liquid that landed on your dress. the sound of jaemin’s chuckle filled your eyes. you felt a warm blush reach your cheeks. you couldn’t believe how you had just embarrassed yourself infront of a cute guy.

“it’s fine, you alright though?” he pat your back softly, cautious about whether you were comfortable with his actions.

“yeah i’ll be fine” you assured him, the atmosphere slowly growing more quiet.

“i’m sorry, i just wanted to ask, do i know you from somewhere? other than the bar. you look really familiar” he suddenly asked. your eyes slowly made his way to meet his. you didn’t expect him to remember you anyway.

“uh yeah, we were in the same orientation group earlier this year, jaemin” he perked up at the mention of his name. he felt awful that he didn’t even remember yours.

“oh i’m sorry” was all he felt like he could say. you weren’t sure how to continue, the conversation was heading to a very awkward end.

“it’s fine. my friends are probably wondering where i am, i’ll see you around” you tried to turn away from him, but he quickly grabbed your wrist. you turned back before saying,

“my name is y/n” he slowly let go of your wrist as you left him standing there, completely gutted. who were you kidding? as if someone like na jaemin would even be interested in you.

the rest of the night was filled with dancing with your friends and getting to know some people from some of your classes. but one person was still at the back of your mind. your eyes scanned the room, landing on jaemin who was sitting by the kitchen bench with his friends. he wasn’t really interested in their conversation though, he was aimlessly scrolling through his phone. you felt bad that you had ended your conversation with him earlier. you took a leap of faith and walked up to him. jaemin sensed someone standing right over him, he thought it was just jeno trying to be nosy, but to his surprise, you were smiling softly at him.

“now jaemin, we are at a party, and you are sitting here looking so glum, why’s that?” you teased, watching as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“well, i was planning on talking to you for the rest of the night, but i kinda screwed up, didn’t i?” he frowned as you shook your head.

“don’t stress about it, wanna dance?” you suddenly offered, your eyes widening.

“pardon?” he was taken back by your bluntness.

“i’m not asking again” you crossed your arms as he softly chuckled. you pulled him along with you as you joined the rest of your peers. jaemin couldn’t take his eyes off you. the way you were screaming the lyrics to the songs as you danced, the way you gently held his hands in yours. the way you let him hold your waist as you both danced. it was pure bliss. you both could never forget that night.  

She needs a wild heart

I got a wild heart

Stay here, my dear,

Feels like I've been standing right here for years

“you know what your problem is?”

“what is it, jisung?” you rolled your eyes at your friend who was currently trying to convince you to ask na jaemin on a date.

“you play it too safe! it’s been like what, three months since that night at the party and nothing has happened! not even a kiss? hand holding? come on” he groaned at your incompetence which made you giggle lightly. you could never take him seriously about these types of topics.

“if something is going to happen then it will happen! i’m fine with how he and i are right now” you shrugged, sitting down in your living room as you switched on a random show on tv.

“you need someone with a wild heart” jisung mumbled. you didn’t quite catch what he said, choosing to ignore it. jisung on the other hand, had other plans.

//

“you really like her, don’t you?” jaemin just nodded at haechan’s words.

“i don’t know guys, should i make a move?” jaemin was confused about his relationship with you. on one hand, he enjoyed being friends but he also wondered what it’d be like to be in a relationship.

“i mean, you guys have been hanging out for a while. you should ask her out! do something spontaneous” jeno suggested, as the other boys were trying to come up with a great date idea.

“you guys didn’t hear it from me, but her friend, jisung, let it slip to me that she’s always wanted to go on a late night adventure. like long drives in the dark, maybe go to a small diner or something” renjun piped up, the other boys listening intently. jaemin ran the scenario through his head...

“that’s actually not a bad idea” he mumbled. jeno, haechan and renjun all looked at eachother. they already knew he had made up his mind. operation get y/n and jaemin to finally confess was in motion.

And I know it's late, I know it's cold

But come right here, I swear I'll never let you go

The way you move, it's wonderful

Let's do it now, 'cause one day we'll both be old

you were home alone for the night and was planning to hang out with jisung but he randomly cancelled last minute. it was odd, jisung never cancelled, and if he did it was always for a good reason. the clock had just struck around 1am. you were debating whether or not to head downstairs and make a bowl of cereal. you couldn’t fight your hunger, so you made your way to the kitchen. before you could pull out the cereal box, there was a knock on your door.

“what the fuck” you whispered to yourself, one hundred percent convinced it was a murderer. “okay y/n if it was a murderer they wouldn’t fucking knock” you kept talking to yourself, cautiously making your way to the door. there was another knock,

“who’s there?!” you yell, knowing it was probably one of the dumbest things you could have said in this situation.

“it’s me! it’s jaemin” you heard the boy reply, groaning to yourself before opening the door.

“what the hell? what are you doing here so late? i thought you were a murderer” you sighed, arms crossed infront of you.

“i’m sorry, this probably wasn’t what you were expecting. but i have a proposition for you” jaemin smirked, you nodded for him to continue.

“let’s go on an adventure” your eyes immediately shot to meet his. you couldn’t contain your excitement. you allowed jaemin to enter your house as you packed some essentials and got changed.

“who put you up to this? was it jisung? god he really does have a blabber mouth” you shook your head in amusement as jaemin just stayed silent. he was running through all the right things he wanted to say to you.

“where are going? what are we even going to do?” you questioned, tying your hair back into a low ponytail. jaemin led you out of your house and into his car.

“it’s a secret, y/n. i have everything planned out” you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. there were nights like these where you only dreamt of spending it with jaemin. he started driving around your neighbourhood as you both talked about the most random things. jaemin was rehearsing bits of phrases he wanted to say to you. by the end of the night, he hoped you would be his girlfriend.

jaemin pulled up to a random parking lot. the street lights were still lit, no other cars in sight.

“you know jaemin, in order to have an adventure, i presume we are meant to go exploring. what can we explore in a target parking lot?” you pointed out as jaemin chuckled.

“well before we continue, i just wanna talk” he softly muttered. you started feeling nervous at his words. it couldn’t be anything bad, right?

“go ahead” you made sure you were fully engaged.

“okay i’ll just come out and say it. i like you. actually, i might even love you? i’m not sure exactly, i just know that i really want to be your boyfriend. and if you gave me the chance, i would be the best damn boyfriend you could ever have! i had this whole night planned out in my head, but i couldn’t hold it in anymore. i pray that you feel the same way. i don’t want to scare you off” jaemin finally took a deep breath. the only sound that could be heard was the wind blowing outside. you weren’t sure how to respond. instead you pulled jaemin’s face closer to yours, making sure his eyes were looking into yours.

“trust me when i say i feel the same way. you worry too much, but i totally get it. it’s not easy to tell if i have feelings for anyone. are you happy right now?” you whispered the last sentence as his smile became wider, if that was even possible.

“just a tad” he smirked, lips inching closer to yours. “may i?” he whispered back to you. you stroked his cheek gently before nodding, pulling him into you. the kiss was sweet, slow and soft. just how you imagined it to be.

“so you wanna be my girlfriend?” he finally asked,

“what do you think, idiot?” you rolled your eyes before placing another kiss on his lips. needless to say, it was a night to remember.

//

a/n: i had alot of fun writing this one! pls let me know what y’all think, i love reading the reactions hehe. 

[smalltowndetective]

Doubts

(This was supposed to be scheduled, and then it did not actually post! Sorry about that!)

Here is the 15th request! Hope you enjoy!

And I’m not sure what is wrong (whether this person changed their URL or what, but I can’t tag with the URL that I was given? So, if you know who’s detective this is, feel free to send them this way! The name that I was given was  @/stealthbynight 

But thank you for letting me use your detective! Hopefully I did Parris justice! :D

Ao3 Link (All Requests can be found here)

Title: Doubts

Pairing: Mason and Parris (stealthbynight’s detective)

Words: 1.1k

Prompt: #15- “Was that supposed to hurt?”

There was nothing that Parris liked more than a good mystery.

               But the mystery of his love life was one that he could live without.

               He had been watching Mason across his office for what had been hours now, trying to make it seem like he was doing work and not in actuality procrastinating slightly, as if he could stare at him forever it would finally make sense.

               Not much luck so far however, and he was starting to doubt if it ever would.

               It was starting to feel as if was a constant back and forth, hot and cold, as if there was just a hint of something deeper before it being completely dissolved into nothingness, and he would be left empty-handed until a hint of it returned again.

               And it did not help at all recently that these hints had become more and more frequent, leaving more and more confused as to what they were actually supposed to be.

               The physical side of the relationship had been fun, but it doing so, it had just hit him that he wanted more. His feelings ran deeper then he had realized they did, and the realization of this changed some things with just how he saw their relationship.

               But was it the same for Mason? Sometimes it seemed like it did, and Parris sure hoped it was. But it now looked like he would forever be trapped into hope in a future that did not exist.

               He had even asked him if it would mean anything more if they did. Mean just as much as it meant to him. The response to that however, just left him more confused.

               “I don’t know the goddamn answer”

               Part of him still held onto the hope, but there was a much louder part that always covered it up, now mattered how much he tried to push it away.

               It’s just another way of saying no

               And that thought alone pained him, it always came to him anyway. Perhaps his own confusion was leading the way, but it was hard to think it could be possibly anything else.

               Was that supposed to hurt this much, Mason?

               I don’t think you meant it to, but it sure does.

               Regardless, doubts were always first and foremost on his mind, and there seemed to be no way to escape them, and he was starting to fear there was no way for it to ever be resolved.

               There was also the desire to talk about it someone, Nate being the first person he thought of, since he could likely help him think through it all, but he was not sure what he would even say if he did. Parris could hardly rationalize it all himself, much less try to drag anyone else into his mess.

               So instead, it looked like for now at least, he would be keeping it all inside, hoping that something would make sense one day, be a puzzle that he would actually be able to figure out.

               He had not let himself fall this hard for anyone since Bobby, and well, that had ended in disaster. But this was different, more then he ever felt for anyone before. And even with that slightly terrifying him, Parris had no qualms against it.

               Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, after Mason had initially walked away after he asked that question, he did not seem to be putting much thought into it at all, brushing it off like nothing had happened. It was a comfort at least, that he was not being completely avoidant now, but there also the sting that it did really mean nothing more and never would.

               After several minutes, Mason suddenly cocked his head toward him, a smirk sliding on his face, “Like what you see, handsome?”

               The pet name was something that he could live without, especially with it being the same one as the one that Bobby had given him, but it had been something he decided to let go. (And the softer way he had been saying it recently was not really that bad)

               Parris blinked at the moment of silence of broken, but he returned his smirk, “What would you want me to say?”

               “You look like you can’t take your eyes off me”, Mason shot back.

               “Maybe I can’t”, he said, giving him a smile, giving him the faint hints of a wink.

               Mason actually chuckled at that, a deep one that seemed to ring across his empty office, and he surprisingly genuine moment between the two of them just continued to make his mood brighten.

               “It’s not like you’re far from my mind at any point and time”, he almost whispered, slips of honestly slipping through what he would normally keep locked up at the fear of it not meaning the same.

               He shrugged at that, “It’s the same for me”

               Parris felt his mouth drop open slightly from that. That was quite literally the last thing that he expected him to say, and he had no idea what to say, a flush climbing up his neck before he could stop it.

               From the slightly raised eyebrow that Mason was giving him, he was quite pleased with that reaction, “Are you really that surprised by that?”

               “It’s not like you’re particularly forthcoming about anything”, he stated as he got up from his desk and went to stand next to him in the only dark corner in the room.

               Tracing his fingers down Parris’s jawline, Mason gave him the start of a smolder, “Then perhaps I can just show you, then?”

               With that, he leaned closer to him, gently enough so he could move away if he wanted to, but that was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment.

               Mason caught his lips in a kiss, the feeling of it consuming him as soon as it began, and he moved just as quickly back against him, trying his best to commit it to memory and to never let it go.

               His brain had not forgotten the passion in the kiss after the mission with the trapper’s but this was different.

               In the best of ways.

               It had a certain softness to it, so new and unlike anything he had ever felt from him before, and Parris was sure he never wanted to lose it.

               He may not be the best at words.

               But this…

               This is more than enough of answer.

               And it filled him with hope, one that did not die this time.

               There was something deeper here, something that was just starting to be discovered, and there was nothing he wanted to do more then to find out what that was.

[pumpkaaboo]

Madoka Magica rewatch: episode 1

Hey guys! I’ve decided to rewatch Puella Magi Madoka Magica (considering that the last time I watched it, I was 12, up past my bedtime, and at a sleepover with my friends. we watched the whole thing in one night. needless to say, a lot of things flew over my head). I want to pay attention to two things in particular: symbolism, and parallels to Revolutionary Girl Utena (specifically, eggs. that will make sense if you’ve seen utena). Most of what I’m going to talk about is probably a reach and/or not intended by the creators, but hey, overanalyzing every minute detail of things to the death is fun. (Note: these posts will contain spoilers for the entirety of madoka magica, and probably bits of utena as well) If you don’t want to see these posts, you can blacklist the tags “#pmmm” or “#pmmm rewatch”. Without further ado, let’s get into it!

So right off the bat, we have a parallel to utena. The very first shot in both...

...is a curtain being raised. This is very interesting to me; it gives the idea that what we’re about to see is a performance of some kind. Whether it means that the whole thing is a performance, or just the dream/flashback we’re about to see, is something I’ll have to look out for. Regardless, just as in utena, I’m going to take this as an indication that what I’m about to watch should not be taken at face value.

Also worthy of note that this is the first time we get to see the beautiful paper cutout style in the witch labyrinths. It’s one of the defining artistic features of this anime, and I can’t wait to see it again.

Then there’s a shot of what appears to be a grief seed with some text in a conlang I can’t read and then... this.

...yeah, I’m at a loss. Is this Madoka’s witch? I think it might be. The background kind of looks like a record from this angle, but broken by that black... slice? bar? witch? Also, there’s the sound of what I think is a tape running through a film projector-yet another indication that what’s to come is a story a performance, not necessarily reflective of reality. However, in contrast to Utena, which uses theater/live performances and plays, Madoka seems to be using film. Film is static, unchanging-you can watch a movie as many times as you want, but aside from file corruption or physical damage to your equipment, it will play out exactly the same way. Theater, meanwhile, is much more dynamic-the actors and the audience have a tremendous amount of influence on the way things go, even if specific plot points must remain the same. I like that, as a difference between the two, because while in Utena, the duelists are always different and the circumstances of the cycle are always changing (even if the end result is always the same), while in Madoka, Homura is repeating the exact same month, and everyone else stays exactly the same except for her (the audience? much to think about).

We have several shots of Madoka running through this stark black and white landscape. She’s the only spot of color in it, and each shot is more impossible and dreamlike than the last.

Finally, she comes to this bright green exit sign-a complementary color to her hair. It’s surrounded by darkness and metal fencing (only visible in the previous shot)-perhaps meaning that, for Madoka to be able to move forward, she will have to travel into darkness, towards something the opposite of herself? I also find the framing of the shot to be very reminiscent of this:

Madoka must ascend the stairs before opening the door, however, not after. I’ll talk a bit more about this parallel later, though, because Madoka opens the door and sees...

...that. Walpurgisnacht has the same pattern behind her that the weird shot of the record did earlier, so maybe I was misreading that and it’s supposed to represent her, not Madoka’s witch whose name escapes me. Also worthy of note that Madoka is moving from an unreal space of equal parts light and dark (where the two were distinctly separated) to a more “real” world of black and gray-and where darkness and the few patches of light often blend together smoothly. I think this is supposed to represent her idealistic worldview clashing against the world where Magical Girls must constantly risk their lives, make morally gray decisions, and fight witches for survival.

I’m not really sure of what to think of the parallel between Madoka entering the battle with Walpurgisnacht and Utena entering the dueling arena, but if we take it as her going from a place inside of her own mind, where her assumptions about the world are unchallenged, into a place where a battle of ideology where no one is truly, 100% noble (even though some may hold the definite moral high ground) might work, but Utena’s dueling arena is also a place of trying to obtain that true nobility. Then again, that could be a parallel to Madoka’s wish in the end, couldn’t it? But I don‘t think it’s a 1-1 parallel, nor do I think it should be expected to be. I’m happy to think of it as a (possibly unintentional) nod to one of the show’s major influences.

Also I just noticed that Walpurgisnacht’s design sort of mirrors itself and works just as well upside down as right side up-hold on let me just-

yeah.

Here we have a shot of Madoka standing on a maze of scaffolding-the path ahead of her will be treacherous, full of dead ends and places to plummet to the ground. But we don’t have time to talk about that because HOMURA

So our first shot of this character-arguably tied for “most important in the show” with Madoka herself-is from a distance, standing on a pillar of darkness, surrounded by flashing red lights. The camera constantly focuses in and out-she’s distant, and it’s hard to figure out what she’s doing or thinking. But then we cut closer to her-

-and we see her face right before she gets hit by a skyscraper-

-and it becomes clear that whoever this is, she’s someone to pay attention to, someone whose inner mind and motivations the series will be exploring. Also I love how she’s not scared of the skyscraper at all, seeming to view it as more of a minor inconvenience more than anything. Because to her, it is!

Also, here we have the first actual bright colors in the show besides the green exit sign. I note that Homura is raising her shield here, not firing one of her (many) guns/explosives-our first impression of her is a mysterious one, but also of protection, though who or what she’s trying to protect remains to be seen.

...and here we have the first voice line of the series. Seems appropriate, given the general tone, but I also think it’s important to note that our first impression of Homura is protectiveness, and our first impression of Madoka is compassion and sympathy...

...while our first impression of Kyubey is fatalism and discouragement. Not exactly a good look for a character who’s supposed to be guiding and supporting the heroes, huh. Kyubey knows exactly what he’s after, and he knows exactly how to get it.

And here we have the entire thesis of Madoka’s character in one line.

Seriously, all of it’s right there! Compassion for those suffering, an acknowledgement that the current circumstances are unjust, are wrong. This isn’t how magical girl shows are supposed to go, this isn’t how heroes are supposed to have to fight, and Madoka is unwilling to accept a world where this level of injustice is the norm. God, what a great way to introduce the entire main conflict of both the protagonist and the show!

Here’s our first clear shot of Kyubey, and he looks even more blank and eerie than usual-I think it’s the fact that he has no visible pupils. Also a great bit of foreshadowing; you don’t typically introduce a character that’s going to be helpful like this.

Kyubey tells Madoka that she has the power to change this fate-to alter the horrible destiny in front of her. “Can I really?” asks Madoka.

That’s why Madoka wants power-she wants to be able to help. And she can, but she’ll have to be very careful about how she words her wish, because otherwise, she might just end up making things worse. It’s worth noting that she wants to change the ending-perhaps foreshadowing her eventual wish to stop magical girls from becoming witches (any girl who cannot become a princess..), changing the inevitable end of their lives.

I love how the branches of the tree(?) are breaking up the frame, making it look fractured or like slash marks, showing how the characters are broken and disoriented, and visually representing the separation between Madoka, Homura, and Walpurgisnacht. It’s a neat trick that was used to great effect in Adolescence of Utena (though usually it was associated specifically with blades or impalement in that case).

Kyubey offers his contract to Madoka, and she looks at the camera, determined, crowned and wreathed by the rubble around her...

...and then wakes up, in her bed, surrounded by warmth and pink and soft things and hearts. Also, I think the aspect ratio changed at this part? I’m not really sure why that is-maybe to convey that they’re going from the cinematic final conflict to Madoka’s everyday life?

Silhouetted by the warm window behind her almost like a halo, watched by her stuffed animals and embracing another, Madoka asks if it was all a dream. She noticeably sits up so her entire head is in the light, and then leans down so only half of it is-she hasn’t fully committed to the heroism she’ll come to embody yet.

Okay, that’s enough for now, it’s been like two hours and I’ve only gotten through one scene. I was hoping to be able to get through this quickly, but I should have known better. Part 2 of this episode coming... at some point, hopefully.

[dreamcatcherfication]

Caught in a Lie

I know this fic was meant to be angsty, but I didn’t mean for it to get this angsty.

Hello and welcome! Today’s fic is based off a request you can find here, or you can just read on and be surprised. I realized that I write most of my Cathy/Kat interactions as them fighting or being really emotional, so please ignore me reusing that dynamic. I didn’t really get to edit this, so please ignore any incoherency, I’ll try to go back soon and fix everything. I don’t have much else to say except watch out for the trigger warnings this time around and please enjoy the fic! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, my nuerological processing unit is broken. 

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Blunt talk of sexual abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, mentions of assisting sexual abuse, just a lot of talk about sexual abuse

Ever since starting their show and appearing in public, the queens had become used to historians’ obsessions with them. Most wanted to know how they came back and if there would be others. A good amount were more interested in the truth of what happened during their first lives. But a few of them were intent on tearing the queens apart. Many historians were confused as to why the queens got along, and they didn’t like it. How could it make sense that the six widows of the same man would become their own family?

For almost a year now, Cathy Parr had been keeping a secret from her predecessor. It wasn’t meant to be anything notable, simply an action she was taking to ensure Kat’s safety. The same historians who picked and prodded for any piece of information they could get would come after the survivor for her knowledge. How did she get along so well with Kat when she allowed Elizabeth to be sexually abused? How did the queens think so highly of her when she was anything but perfect? Why did Kat act the way she did around the other queens?

They weren’t questions Cathy should be answering, but she also didn’t want the historians to move on and start asking Kat. So she answered the questions as vaguely as possible while also making sure Kat learned nothing about what was going on. The teen wouldn’t be able to handle it, Cathy knew, so she made her decision to keep things a secret. 

That’s how things went for a long time, and there was nothing remarkable about it. Cathy lied to Kat to keep her safe, and Kat went about living her life. The world was in a perfect balance, and each queen was living her life the best she could.

But these things were not built to last, and it was Kat who would learn that the hard way. She hadn’t been expecting it, much less prepared for it, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. It started with a message on her social media that attracted her attention. Kat should’ve known to ignore it, but she couldn’t help her curiosity as to why someone was messaging her what looked like an entire essay.

Skimming the essay, Kat missed some of the padding from the person who wrote it - a historian, Kat deduced - and skipped right to the point of their message. We’ve been talking with Katheryn Parr, Kat noticed how they used the old spelling of her name, about your past with sexual abusers. Kat’s breath hitched, but she moved forward, ignoring the pit of dread settling in her stomach. 

It seemed so implausible that you two could hold a strong relationship after her marriage with Thomas Seymour and assistance with his abuse of Queen Elizabeth. It’s even stranger her friendship with Anne Boleyn, but both of them have confirmed that the past has been resolved. Kat adjusted her grip on her phone and kept scrolling. Miss Parr has told us multiple times that you know about the questions we ask her, but you do not wish to speak with us. I don’t quite believe a woman like her, so I’m reaching out to you directly so that you, Miss Howard, are fully informed on the events going down. Katheryn Parr is claiming that you are uncomfortable speaking to us about your past, but I would like to fact check that with you Miss Howard. Please respond to me -

The message went on, but Kat had lost interest in what the historian had to say. Cathy had been talking to historians about her? Kat hadn’t heard anything from Cathy… “It’s probably just a misunderstanding,” Kat mumbled to herself, tucking her phone in her pocket. She’d go clear it up right then with Cathy, who was in the room next to hers.

Walking to Cathy’s door, Kat prepared her words. She wasn’t going to believe a historian over her friend, but she wouldn’t let herself be surprised by anything. Slowly pushing the door open, Kat peeked her head inside. Cathy was on her bed, sorting through a mess of papers. “Hello Kat,” she greeted amiably and returned to her sorting.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Kat started, making her way inside the room.

“Sure,” Cathy shrugged. She took a break in sorting her papers and looked up. “What’s the problem?”

Sitting down on the bed, Kat made eye contact with Cathy, watching her. “A historian messaged me on Instagram today.”

Cathy groaned, “That’s a tactic they haven’t tried before.”

“Yeah,” Kat muttered. “They were saying a lot of weird stuff. That you were speaking in my place during interviews and saying that I didn’t want to talk about my past. Weird, right?” Kat asked hopefully. She saw the hesitation in Cathy’s eyes and her heart dropped. “Right?”

Opening her mouth, Cathy sat silently for a couple seconds. “Kat - I.” She went silent again. “It was for your own good.” She reached her hand out, but Kat pulled back.

“What do you mean, ‘for my own good?’” Kat scrunched her nose.

Taking the hint, Cathy leaned away from Kat. “They were asking invasive questions. How could you stand being around me after… what happened in your childhood,” the writer explained.

“I was sexually abused,” Kat stated bluntly, “You can say it out loud.”

Cathy awkwardly laughed without humor. “I know, I just thought you would prefer -”

“I don’t,” Kat stood up. “Our show is about telling our stories, if I didn’t want to tell it, I wouldn’t be on stage every night. Please don’t make decisions for me Cathy.”

Looking down, Cathy sighed. “It’s for the best Kat. They weren’t nice people, they would’ve hurt you.”

“Then they would’ve hurt me,” Kat shot back defiantly. “It’s not up to you to decide whether or not I face these people. I’ve been hurt before, and I’m still here.”

Still, there was a cloudiness in Cathy’s eyes that told Kat she simply didn’t believe her. “I know you’re strong, I do Kat, but you have to understand I was only doing it to make things easier for you.”

Holding herself back from stomping her foot, Kat felt her nostrils flair. “Nothing is ever easy for me. But you know what Cathy? I learned to live with it. So don’t control my life just because you think it’s the right thing to do.”

“I’m only -” “No.” Kat turned away from Cathy. “You’ve been lying to me. I believed you over that historian, but it turns out they were right.”

Letting her eyes drop, Cathy murmured, “I wanted to help you.”

Spinning around, Kat glared at Cathy. “You help me by talking to me, not by lying to me.”

Kat waited, her eyes boring into Cathy’s skull until the other queen looked up and their eyes connected. There was hurt in Cathy’s eyes, but she was trying to hide it. Kat couldn’t find any pity in herself for her fellow queen. “I’m sorry Kat. I won’t do it again.”

“You won’t be coming anywhere near my life any time soon,” Kat spit, turning heel.

“What?” Cathy jumped out of her bed and followed Kat to the door.

Stepping into the hallway, Kat faced Cathy one last time. “You’ve been lying to me long enough. I’m not giving you the opportunity to do that again.” She was about to leave before pausing, eyes settling on Cathy’s face, growing more pale by the second. “And for the record, I would have told them it was because I trusted you.” 

With that, Kat was gone, out of the hallway and disappearing to her own room. Frozen in her doorway, Cathy’s hands slowly fell to her side. She wanted to give Kat another apology, but it wouldn’t come out of her mouth. She should’ve seen it from the start. She was just trying to help her friend. And now she had ruined everything.

Pacing in her room, Kat had to dig her fingernails in her palms in order to restrain her urge to lash out. It wasn’t common for her to get angry, but this was an exception. Kat hated being coddled, treated like a little kid. She was more than that, and she could handle herself.

Stopping her pacing, Kat’s gaze drifted to her phone, still lying on her bedside table. Approaching it, Kat picked up the dark screen and turned it on. Going back to her social media, she reread the message. It only made the rage in her chest burn brighter, a reminder that some random historian was more honest with her than one of her closest friends.

In a moment of anger, Kat pulled up a note and started furiously typing.

For years I have had to live with what people have done to be. I was sexually abused as a child and people like to avoid talking about it. They use filler words, thinking it will make me feel better. It doesn’t. It only makes you feel better. I experienced it, I lived it, and a few pretty words aren’t going to protect me.

I learned recently that people have been trying to reach out to me in order to understand my feelings on what happened. Obviously I don’t like talking about my abuse, but it’s still a reality I lived through. Historians had been blocked from reaching me by Catherine Parr, who took it upon herself to protect me.

I have been lied to for longer than I know, and it’s because of Catherine Parr. She thought that she could make decisions for me and that I would be okay with it. Out of the goodness of her heart, she betrayed my trust and completely ignored the point of our show. I tell my story every night on stage. But when someone wants to approach me personally, she believes it’s her duty to make sure I won’t get hurt. Catherine? I’ve already been hurt. You can’t do anything to change that, so stop acting like you’re allowed to be the angel who saved me from everything bad. You’re not. You’re a liar.

Everyone knows about what happened with Thomas Seymour and Elizabeth. You watched on silently as he sexually abused her. And despite all the pain that came with confronting that, Anne and I forgave you. I would think you learned that this isn’t your story to tell. You did nothing then, and you think doing something now will make up for it. It won’t, and I don’t want it to. I wanted to move on from everything, but clearly you aren’t ready.

So fine. If that’s how it’ll be, then fine. Catherine Parr, I don’t want to see you or hear from you. If any interviewer wants to talk to me, they come to me and not Catherine Parr. She holds no say in my life, and I’d like to keep it that way. Because Catherine Parr is a liar. And I’m sick of people lying to me.

Setting her phone down, Kat let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t intend on publishing the rant, but she needed to get it out. Her words were harsh and came from somewhere deep within her, but she didn’t want anyone to see them. She was going to keep playing the role of the charming girl with the bad past, not the young woman who was done with being coddled.

Collapsing onto the bed, Kat closed her eyes. She was about to let the tension leave her body when a short smacking sound caught her attention. Sitting up, Kat looked around until she spotted her phone on the floor. Picking it up, Kat went to turn it off when she noticed a small mark on the corner of her note. Posted, it read in small italics.

Hands starting to shake, Kat dropped her phone on the bed. What had she done? What had she done? The post was online, and people were going to see it. No one was meant to see it, but now it would be online forever. Even if she figured out how to delete the post, people were probably taking screenshots the second it appeared.

Curling into a ball, Kat hid her face. This was a mistake, a big, big mistake that was going to cause so many problems. If Cathy had lost her trust, then all the queens would lose trust in Kat. In one moment, Kat had managed to tear them apart unknowingly.

On cue there was a shout from the queens’ living room. “Katherine Howard, explain this right now!”

Gulping, Kat glanced down at her phone. Kat closed her eyes, and for the first time in 500 years, she prayed.

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