#i can’t believe it didn’t occur to me sooner but in my defense i was so distracted by multiple things

[sensesdialed]

BURSTING DOWN THE DOOR HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY PETER PARKER MY BELOVED LITTLE GUY !!!!

[lovereconthings]

Are Assumptions Damaging Your Relationship?

Are Assumptions Damaging Your Relationship?

  Assumptions are just as powerful as the facts if you choose to believe them. In fact, your assumptions could masquerade as "facts," and you may make decisions based on little more than good guesses. This can be divisive and destructive in a relationship, with assumptions creating havoc between you and your spouse. - She isn’t complaining, so everything must be fine in our relationship. - He didn’t text or call about being late, so he must be at the bar. - She is making us late again, so she’s trying to sabotage my parents’ anniversary dinner. - He is being quiet, so I must have upset him, and he's planning to leave. Why are these classified as assumptions? She isn’t complaining because she feels you won't hear her, and she is giving up. He didn't

notify you about being late because he's in a meeting at work that has lasted longer than expected. She is picking up the cake for his parents' anniversary dinner, which will save time, and they will arrive sooner rather than later at the party. He's being quiet, not because of what she said, but because he is thinking about the needed car repairs and how he can get them done and still have transportation for them both.  

You are most likely making assumptions if you believe you know what someone else thinks and feels without asking them.

Does your spouse say things like, "Don't tell me what I think" or "Stop putting words in my mouth"? Do you use phrases like: “ I just have a feeling that…", or "I can tell that…", or  It's evident that…". All of these indicate that you are assuming without asking and are in danger of sabotaging your relationship.  

Why are Assumptions Harmful to My Relationship?

  Assumptions Cause You to Close Down You will stop being open and receptive to the other person. You will stop trying to connect and will not make the effort because you have defined the situation according to your perceptions and don't need their input.   Assumptions Create Separation and Conflict The other person may feel trapped and judged because we assume we know what they are thinking and why they do what they do. They feel they have lost their voice and are not given respect and validation in the relationship. It is only natural for them to engage in conflict to be heard or pull away from their partner altogether.   Your Assumptions Hurt You Your partner can't see your good side and may make assumptions about you. As a result, you may appear to them to be defensive and unkind, even though that is not your intention. The wall of assumptions that grows between you leaves you each feeling alienated and alone.

Why Do We Make Assumptions?

Like so many of our behaviors, assumptions can be an attempt to avoid emotional pain. If you can assume what others think and feel, you don't have to risk being open and vulnerable. You block out any feedback that might be uncomfortable or painful, but you also block out love, affection, and emotional intimacy.   Common Assumptions - Assuming that we understand what they said. Just because we think we know what they said doesn't mean that we do! Our own emotional triggers, insecurities, and perceptions of the world could lead us to misinterpret what they actually said. This can lead to misunderstanding and conflict. We must take a deep breath, calm ourselves and respond calmly with something like, “I’m not sure that I understood you correctly. What I heard you say was…".   - Assuming that we have communicated about responsibilities. Usually, this occurs when both spouses assume the other person was responsible for a task or chore. For example, you discussed declining an invitation to a party hosted by friends. You each assumed that the other would contact your friends and decline. Neither one of you did, and now your friends have hurt feelings, and you and your spouse are angry with each other. Put a system in place for the communication of tasks and responsibilities. It doesn't have to be complicated. It could just be a list of what needs to be accomplished and when with the responsible person's initials beside that duty.   - Assuming what your spouse likes and doesn't like. It might be that you do know your spouse's preferences. For example, you know how they like their coffee and that they want their steak medium-rare. But you didn't realize that they have decided that they prefer iced coffee now and are avoiding red meat altogether. It doesn't hurt to ask because even asking can show that you love them and want to please them. If everyone stayed the same and never evolved, it would be simple to know their likes and dislikes. But it would also be boring!   - Assuming their “motivators.” We can easily fall into the trap of assuming that we know the "why" behind our partner's behaviors. Usually, we assume the worst about their intentions. "He's just trying to get out of taking care of the kids this Saturday," or "She's doing this so that I'll say 'yes' to going to her mom's house on Sunday ."Resentment and misunderstanding grow with each assumption, and the wall of separation gets higher.   - Assuming they know what we want or need. We think they should know by now what we want or need, and we expect them to meet those wants and needs. When our expectations are not met, hurt and misunderstanding happen. Then, the assumption may be made that "They don't love me or care about what I want." Be assertive (not bossy) and communicate to your spouse what you need from them. They don't know if you don't tell them. By communicating clearly, you give them a chance to meet that need. Next, make sure that they have received the information. This can be done by using "mirroring," a communication technique in which the listener repeats back everything that they heard the speaker say and then asks the question, "Did I get it?". The speaker then confirms or clarifies. It's just human to make assumptions based on our perceptions, experiences, and the information that we do have. In relationships, however, things are not always as they seem, and what we think may not be true. Communicate with your spouse and ask for feedback, even when it seems redundant. It isn't a waste of time. You will save the time that you would have spent in conflict and in repairing the damage caused by hurt feelings and wrong assumptions. If you need help in how to do this, marriage retreats, marriage conferences, or relationship counselors can help. Read the full article

[midgardianweasley]

The Wedding Series

It took me a while, but, i’ve finallyyy got part 2 of the series up<33 

Ring her up

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: with an ever growing feeling of love for her girlfriend, Y/N wants to take the next step, but, like every plan, she needs to carry out step number one.

Word Count: 2k

Message/ask if you want to join the taglist! 

Part one | Part two 

It had been four years since the day you and Natasha had started dating, four wonderful years. The team hadn’t let either of you forget about the night you both got together, how they all saw it coming and how they couldn’t believe you both hadn’t seen it sooner. Looking back, you weren’t so sure yourself, but you liked the story of how you became girlfriends, even if it was something straight out of a rom-com.

Over the course of four years, it only made you more and more certain that she was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Unlike the story that brought you both together, this wasn’t a big moment of realisation. It was in the little things. It was in the way she protected and cared for you. In the way she had always been the one to wipe your tears and in the way she’d laugh with you in the rain when you were happy.

The two of you had discussed many things over the years, now having moved out into your own apartment together, you were beginning to take big steps in your relationship so some conversations had arisen in the process. Marriage being one of them.

__________________________

You were both sitting in your living room, snuggled up together on the sofa, a blanket draped over the two of you as you watched ‘Friends’, though you weren’t really watching it.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.” She whispered, not looking at you but with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Why would I when I have the real thing right in front of me?”

“Touché”

You briefly returned your attention back to the screen in front of you, watching a scene unfold where the main characters are running in and out of a wedding chapel in Vegas. Seeing them had sparked a thought in your head as you looked up adoringly at your girlfriend, never breaking your eyes away, even when she grabbed the remote and paused your programme to give you her full attention.

“Okay, what’s up?”

“Who says something has to be up? Maybe I just want to appreciate how pretty you are.” You gave her puppy eyes, but she knew better than to fall for that.

“I can practically feel the cogs turning in that head of yours. C’mon, you can tell me Detka.”

You quickly glanced between the television screen and her eyes, taking note of the curiosity lingering in her eyes, alongside some concern which made you admit defeat.

“I was just thinking, y’know, about us.”

“Right, is something wrong?” She took your hands in hers, the pad of her thumb gently stroking the back of them, silently encouraging you to continue.

“No! No, not at all. It was just watching this, it got me thinking, what are your thoughts on getting married?” She opened her mouth to speak, but you quickly cut her off before she could get a word out. “I don’t necessarily mean to me! Just generally! Well, it would be nice if it was me, but I don’t want to put any-”

“Babe, slow down, breathe.” She chuckled while you caught your breath, only continuing once you’d calmed yourself down from your ramble.

“First of all, I like the thought of getting married, I could see myself doing it. But, in terms of who I would marry, it would be you.”

“Really? You’re serious?”

“I’m serious. You’re it for me. There isn’t anyone else.”

You didn’t know why tears appeared in your eyes, it was a perfect answer, an answer most people dreamed of getting. Nonetheless, they built up, completely blurring your vision, even as they fell. Natasha was quick to wipe them away as they did, and despite you not being able to see much, it was near impossible to miss the love she held in her eyes as she looked at you.

“I love you.” You mumbled, placing your hand over the one that she held on your cheek.

“I love you more.” She placed her forehead against yours, eyes closed as she enjoyed the intimacy, you doing so too.

“Never.”

“Always.” She whispered before meeting your lips with a gentle, loving kiss.

That conversation was your most recent, it will have been months ago now. As time went on, the feeling inside of you only grew, and you became more certain with every moment shared between you both, that you want to marry this woman. You want to marry Natasha Romanoff.

_______________________

You didn’t know where to begin, so you did what first came to mind.

You called your best friend. Thankfully, Nat was currently out with Steve, picking up after him again. Though you’d usually be moody at the fact that she had to leave, this time you couldn’t help but try to encourage her to go, spiking her curiosity at your actions, but still leaving nonetheless, giving you the perfect opportunity to call and ask for help.

“Wanda, Wanda, help.” You immediately rambled as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Yes. Well, kinda, no, yes?”

“Right, thank you for clearing that up.” She let out a hearty laugh over the phone

“I want to propose.”

“To Natasha?”

“Who else?”

“I just wanted to clarify!” She exclaimed, a hint of defense in her tone.

Silence fell upon the phone call,

“Oh my- You want to marry Natasha.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“We need to start making plans! What dress would you like? Ooh where should the venue be? I heard-”

“Wan’, is that not a bit too soon? I don’t even have an idea for a proposal or a ring or anything.”

One sound. One sound was all it took for you to know that you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into as Wanda gasped, quickly hanging up before you could even ask what was wrong.

Taking a look at your phone, you saw an unread text from Wanda, sent only seconds ago.

Wan<3   ‘Get your shoes on, I’ll be over in 10. We’re going out.’                                               Delivered.

At least now you know where to start.

Okay, you’re still not sure, but at least someone does. ______________________________

It wasn’t long before Wanda had arrived at your house, dragged you outside and was now pulling you along beside her as she ran around like a hyper Golden Retriever, leading you in and out of different shops, all of which had one thing in common. They sold engagement rings.

You could’ve facepalmed the minute you realised the pattern, how did an engagement ring not occur to you in the first place? You decided not to dwell on it, you’d just kick yourself later on when you’re alone to save any embarrassment.

You hadn’t realised you’d zoned out until you felt a tug on your wrist, looking up to see the culprit, a huge grin on her face as she pointed to the shop in front of the two of you. It was so..shiny. There were silver necklaces, rings, bracelets, and watches. They all looked so pretty, how were you going to decide?

“Come on! We need to go in and have a look! I have a good feeling about this one!” She squealed, even though you could’ve sworn she said that the last two times. Either way, you flashed her a quick smile, nodding and walking in. If you had to search all day for the perfect ring, so be it. It’s what Natasha deserves.

There were rows upon rows of different rings, there must’ve been hundreds, if not thousands in the brightly lit room, allowing each and every one to have a sparkle. You smiled gently at each one, imagining how they would look on your girlfriend’s hand. How it would feel for her title to go from ‘girlfriend’ to ‘Fiancé’, relying on the hope that she says yes.

A couple of minutes went by before something caught your attention. Turning your head to the left, you see one particular ring standing out to you like a beautiful, shiny sore thumb. Walking closer to inspect it, you manage to take in some more of its finer details.

It was a simple silver band, just like the majority of the others, however, while they had simple diamonds, this one had a ruby instead, the red complementing the silver perfectly. One look at it, and you were strong in your opinion that Natasha would love it.

You soon felt a presence behind you, recognising it immediately as the one who had brought you out here in the first place.

“Are you looking at the red one?” You whipped your head round.

“How did you know?”

“Because you look like you’ve decided to fall in love with that ring instead.” She raised her eyebrows, taking great enjoyment in watching you look around and get excited with almost every ring you see as you think about how it would feel if Natasha was to say ‘yes’. In all honesty, a part of you was a little scared, nervous. Marriage is a big step, and while she had said she would want to, you don’t want to get the timing wrong. You want it all to be perfect, and you would do your damn best to make it so. She was your forever, and you refused to let that slip through your fingers.

Before you could even blink, Wanda had asked the saleswoman if they could have it brought out of it’s viewing unit so that you could take a closer look, which she responded with a kind smile before unlocking the case and holding the ring out to you, exposing all of it’s edges and how it glistens differently in every light, a faint red glow appearing every so often.

This was the one.

“Could I buy this one, please?” You asked the lady who appeared to be nothing but friendly.

“Of course, let me just ring that up for you and I'll get it boxed up.” You had to hold back a small giggle at her choice of words. Immature, you know, but you didn’t overly care, feeling too over the moon at taking the first step towards marriage with the love of your life.

Wanda gave you a pearly white smile, clapping her hands in joy at how the trip has turned out, watching you now hold the small box in your hand. You didn’t blame her, this has been a success. You can’t wait.

___________________________

“Babe! I’m home!” You called, shutting the front door behind you and kicking your shoes off, the ring safely held in its box, which was settled in your back pocket.

“Hi love” Natasha walked over, placing a sweet kiss on your lips before pulling away and brushing some loose strands of hair behind your ear, a gesture you had always adored. “How was your day? I heard you went out with Wanda?”

Of course she did! Luckily, she’s not the only spy around who could think quick on her feet.

“Yeah, we went for some lunch and just had a girls day. I think she needed to get out of the compound for a bit, too much ‘boy’ energy.” You shrugged, a smile playing on your lips as you watched hers curl upwards in agreement.

“I don’t blame her, poor girl. We’ve totally abandoned her with the males.”

“Would you like to go back and stay there?”

“Absolutely not, I’m quite happy where I am, thank you.” She raised her eyebrows in a playful manner before gesturing to the TV. “Do you wanna watch some ‘Friends’?”

“Yes! I’ll just change into some comfier clothes, jeans are not the one today.” You happily agreed, quickly giving her a peck on the cheek before scurrying off to the bedroom, hoping she didn’t notice the odd shape of your pocket.

You made it into the bedroom, getting some pj’s out of your wardrobe and looking for a place to hide the ring. You were going to just put it into your bedside table, but you knew Natasha often snuck in there to steal some of your favourite moisturiser. Not as subtle as she thinks.

You settled on hiding it on the top shelf of your wardrobe, behind some storage boxes and rucksacks neither of you used, hoping it would be well hidden there.

Now all you had to do now, was wait.

Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova​ @wvnda-maximoff​

[mypoisonedvine]

A Beautiful Little Fool | dark!Sebastian Stan x reader (The Great Gatsby AU)

well, The Great Gatsby entered the public domain today, so I thought I’d besmirch it with some filthy dark smut.  overall I did not put too much effort into relating my story to the plot or themes of the novel, just the setting and basic instigating actions, so don’t look too hard for an obvious allegory or familiar characters.  this stunning moodboard (and, best of all, the incredible edits of seb as gatsby) was made by @nsfwsebbie​ who was also so kind as to beta for me and be my sounding board, thank you so much!!

summary: a reclusive millionaire throws extravagant parties in hopes that his lost love will attend and he can get one more chance to win her back.  one can get used to getting whatever they desire, a little too comfortable with the idea that money can attain anything.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: smut (noncon/heavy dubcon), forced infidelity, a touch of breeding kink, period-accurate sexism (if anything it's a bit more toned down compared to 'period-accurate'), very slight yandere energy, obsession, one (1) slap

all my works are 18+, if you are under 18 please do not read

I was within and without; simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.

You could already hear the music and you were still a block away.  “Sounds like quite the ball,” Walter observed, and you clung tighter onto his arm as you walked with him along the damp pavement.  “Seems like the rumors might just be true about Stan parties.”

“All the rumors are true,” you informed him quickly, pulling your shawl up to protect your shoulders a bit better from the chilly evening breeze, “except for one.”

You took in a slow, deep breath as you observed the mansion from the outside; partygoers were mingling about in the yard and gardens, even though it was much too cold to be outside for very long, in your humble opinion.  Walter opened the door for you, being polite that way, but you found yourself hesitating before you stepped in out of the dark and the cold into the overwhelming light and warmth of his mansion.

You thought maybe you could avoid him, at least for the first hour or so of the party, but it was like he had been waiting at the door just for you to arrive, twiddling his ring-adorned thumbs in that gaudy tuxedo of his.

“Darling!” Sebastian greeted with a beaming grin, outstretching his arms (a cane in one hand, and a drink in the other) to wrap you in an embrace.  “You’re late!”

“Fashionably,” you defended with a nervous laugh, pulling back from the hug a little sooner than he seemed to want you to.  You almost forgot Walter was standing right beside you, and an awkward beat made you suddenly remember they ought to be introduced.  “Oh!  Sebastian, I’m not sure you’ve met my fiancé, Walter Penner.”

“Pleasure,” Walter offered his hand for a handshake, smiling warmly.  “Your home is stunning, I must say.  You… really know how to throw a party.”

Sebastian just shrugged like it was nothing before returning the handshake, but his cheeks were a little pinker than they were before— maybe it was just the draft you’d let in when you and your date had entered the front door.  “The pleasure’s all mine,” he assured, “I’ve been hearing so much about you from your lovely fiancée here, I’m excited to see if it’s all true.”

“Walter said the same thing about you, outside,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, and your date cast you a brief glare of embarrassment.

“She’s never been too good at keeping secrets,” Sebastian chuckled, “yours, mine, or hers.”

The negging comment made your cheeks warm a little, wondering if you should defend yourself, but Walter spoke instead.  “You must be used to it by now, I hear the two of you have been close friends since you were children.”

Memories of summer flashed in your mind, of green soft grass between toes and secret hideaways in trees and warm sunshine casting the countryside in a golden glow.  It seemed like that was all so far away now, the hilly landscape replaced with industry, the sun outshined by the electrical lights that seemed to cover nearly the entire mansion these days.  

“Yes,” Sebastian agreed, tearing you from your train of imaginative thought and turning to address you, “you’ve known me since I was just a penniless dreamer with two good legs.”

You were a little surprised he was so comfortable admitting that he didn’t come from wealth.  Maybe some people thought it was more inspiring that way, but others would say that it was impossible for him to truly shed his place in society as a poor sharecropper’s son.  

But then again, they would say the same thing about you, and you’d become engaged to the wealthiest bachelor in Manhattan, as well as a man you were lucky enough to say you were truly in love with.

Sebastian let the two of you go and enjoy the party for a while, though you were sure you could feel his eyes on you all the while.  Walter went and fetched the two of you some drinks, while you waited beside a small statuette that Sebastian must have collected some time, tilting your head as you observed it.  He had an eye for art that you couldn’t relate to, although you at least understood why he might enjoy a bronze cast of a beautiful nude woman.

As some young women flocked in a group beside you, their conversation became impossible to ignore.  “He’s single,” one of them announced, “and fabulously wealthy.  The perfect man.”

“Yes,” another agreed, “but he’s so reserved.”

“I like that!” the first defended.

“I think you’d like anything about somebody who could afford to throw a party like this,” yet another accused with a smirk.  A fit of giggles made it seem like the rest agreed with that sentiment.

“You’re all just jealous because he was looking at me,” she frowned defensively.  “He’ll want a wife sometime, and I’ll be here waiting.”

You were almost compelled to butt in, but if you told them the truth they probably wouldn’t even believe you.  Some papers had reported that the elusive Mr. Stan was disinterested in dating or engagement, but usually attributed it to eccentricity or promiscuousness.  What they had not discovered was that he was still hung up on his childhood love, the girl next door who had captured his heart as a boy and never given it back— not for a lack of trying.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered it, in fact you had returned his affections many years ago when he left to fight in the Great War.  It seemed that with you and Sebastian, it was always the right person at the wrong time; and maybe, deep down, you knew that Walter had been the wrong person at the right time, but your love for him was true if forced.  He didn’t make you laugh like Sebastian could, but in the end it was best that the two of you stay friends and that he finally take up any of the lovely girls vying for his affection.  Maybe some were only seeking his money… okay, maybe all of them were only seeking his money, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a girl worth his time in the bunch.  An ambitious man like Sebastian wouldn’t have much trouble forging a real connection with someone like the woman standing beside you know, gossiping about how secretive and handsome he was.

When the chit-chat stopped, you looked up to see what had garnered their attention… only to find Sebastian standing right beside you.  “I bought this in Sicily, thinking it was an original, but I learned recently that it’s a fake,” he informed you.  You furrowed your brow in confusion until he pointed forward and you realized he was referring to the statue you’d been staring at.  

“Oh!  Right,” you mumbled.

“I still keep it on display because as of yet, nobody else can tell the difference,” he admitted.  There he was lifting that façade again, letting his guests see a glimpse of the dirty truth he usually hid away.

“What’s inspiring this openness, Sebastian?” you asked him with a nervous giggle.  “Are you high on something?”

“Just your presence,” he returned with a flirtatious grin, “and a bit of opium.”

You knew he was joking, although the ladies eavesdropping nearby didn’t seem so sure.  “Yes, I think an opium addiction would suit you nicely,” you rolled your eyes, “to go with all this excessiveness you indulge yourself in.”

“I think I’ll just stick with the champagne for now,” he decided.  “Have you had some yet?  It’s exquisite.”

“Walter went to fetch me some,” you remembered, glancing out into the crowd to see if you’d find him there looking for you.

“Oh, perfect!” 

You weren’t sure what was perfect about that.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you, in private, if I can,” he explained.

That idea didn’t sit right with you.  Even just speaking to him now without your fiancé nearby was a bit scandalous, but at least there were plenty of people nearby to witness to the fact that nothing especially untoward had occurred.  Being truly alone with him sounded much more dangerous.  “You can,” you replied solemnly, “but I can’t say that you will.”

“Please,” he whispered, just a hint of his desperation becoming apparent.  You nodded and he smiled back at you, guiding you across the foyer and up the stairs.  He grabbed a drink from a waiter and handed it to you as you dutifully followed him upstairs, glancing down over the banister at the merriment before he led you into his room, the sounds of the party fading to near silence behind the door as he closed it behind you.

"Do you like the party, darling?" he asked as you swallowed a gulp of champagne which tingled at the back of your throat and did less to calm your nerves than you’d hoped.

"Yes," you nodded, "your parties are always… lavish."

"It's all for you," he informed you with a gentle smile.  "All this: the music, the fireworks, the champagne—" he motioned to the glass in your hand— "it's all for you."

"For… me?"

He stepped closer with a chuckle, that light little chuckle that you’d grown to understand meant ‘oh, you silly little thing.’  “Of course.  Who else?  I love you, darling, I’ve loved you all my life— you know that.”

“And I’m engaged to Walter,” you reminded him. “You know that, too.”

His smile faded slightly, and you saw him trying to shake that anger that was always waiting just below the surface.  “Yes, I know that.  I’m not stupid—”

"You must be if you think this is going to work, that I’ll leave him for you because… because what?  You threw me a party?”

“I threw you a thousand parties.  Every single one, it was all a show— all the dancing and the small talk, I don’t need it.  It could just be the two of us, for all I care.”

“I could hardly imagine we’d finish all the booze…”

“Don’t joke with me.  Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You’re funny either way; you hardly speak with me, you hardly know me, and you think you love me.”

You gasped as he stepped forward, grabbing your wrist tightly.  A sharp sound made you understand that your champagne flute had fallen to the floor and shattered, but you didn’t see it because you couldn’t look away from his icy blue eyes piercing through you as they burned with rage.  “I love you.  I’ve never loved anyone or anything like I love you.  And you’re gonna love me, too.”

Protests died in your throat as the air was knocked from your lungs when he pushed you back into the wall.  He forced his lips over yours, holding the back of your neck so you couldn’t turn your face away.  Your free hand beat at his chest before it, too, was pinned by the wrist while he sighed and moaned against you, pushing his tongue between your lips.  A swift kick to the shin deterred him more effectively, knocking him back just enough to let you run for the door.  Your fingertips just barely brushed against the cold metal of the doorknob before he grabbed you at the waist and pulled you back.  “Help!” you screamed hoarsely.

“Nobody’s gonna hear you,” he laughed, pressing his chest against your back, his breath hot on your neck.  “The party’s too loud.”

He spun you around quickly, leaning in for another kiss.  “Walter!” you yelped, purely out of instinct, but he stopped you with a hand clamped over your mouth.

“How dare you say his name,” he hissed.  “How dare you bring him into my house?”

You couldn’t answer with his strong fingers holding your mouth shut, but you could mumble indistinctly as you began to cry.

“Has he fucked you?  Hm?” he interrogated coldly.  Afraid of giving no answer at all, you hesitated before shaking your head.  Sebastian smiled a little bit as he let his hand slip down from your face, his expression softening.

“He’s… he’s a real gentleman,” you explained weakly.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Sebastian chuckled incredulously.  “Never thought you’d want someone so… traditional.”

“He treats me right,” you continued.

“That can’t be true, if he hasn’t taken you properly,” he smirked.  “God, you don’t even know how good you can feel, do you?  Poor girl.  I have half a mind to throw you over that bed and show you right now.”

“N-no, Seba, please, you wouldn’t,” you stammered anxiously, watching his eyes drift from your own down to your lips, and your neck, and your chest.  You knew the plunging neckline was a bad idea.

“You haven’t called me that since we were children.  I miss that, when you still cared for me.”

“I’ve always cared for you, it’s you that pushed me away,” you reminded him.  “But it’s okay, we’ll be close again, like we used to.  We’ll be friends.  Just… just let me go, we should go back outside… your guests are expecting you.”

“What was that game we used to play back then?” he wondered aloud, ignoring your suggestion entirely.  “It was your favorite.”

“Ch-checkers?”

He grinned, more devilish than before.  “No… it was ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’”

You looked away, wincing at his mocking laughter as he held you a little tighter; the back of your dress was rather low, meaning that his rough hand was stroking your exposed back which made the hairs at the nape of your neck stand up.

“Do you still remember how to play?” he purred as he spun you back and tossed you onto the bed.  You tried to sit up but he was already on you, reaching under your dress to grab at your pantyhose.  

“W-wait,” you whimpered, but he had already found your undergarments and begun to pull them down your thighs.

“These legs,” he growled, “god, I can’t get enough of ‘em.  You know what you do to me, sweetheart?”

He answered his own question rather quickly as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to where he was kneeling on the bed— pressing the back of your thigh against the hard shape tenting his trousers.  You grimaced and looked back up at the ceiling, but he grabbed your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pulling your face back down to look at where he was hovering over you.  

“No, no, darling, don’t look away,” he cooed, “I want you to see this.”

He lifted your leg as he turned his head to the side, never breaking from your gaze as he started to kiss your skin, moving up your calves and dipping lower to reach your inner thigh.  You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, but you felt it sending shivers up your body as he moved closer and closer to somewhere he was very much not supposed to be.  “Seba,” you whimpered, not sure what you were pleading with him for but hoping it would get through to him anyways.

He just smiled wider, letting his teeth nip the delicate skin just beneath your hips.  You yelped a bit before biting down on your lip to keep quiet; you knew that if someone walked in now, you wouldn’t be able to say that he’d forced himself on you… not when you were lying back and letting him do this to you.  

Just when you thought his mouth couldn’t get any closer to the part of you that was suddenly throbbing of its own accord, he pulled back and pushed up your dress even more, growling at the sight of you spread wide for him.  “What a gorgeous pussy, darling.”  It didn’t seem like a sign of approval though, when he brought his hand down against it with a harsh smack, forcing you to cry out and throw your head back.  It hurt, at first, but then it felt so oddly good and you couldn’t explain why.  When he did it again, the pain and the pleasure were even more intense than the last time, making your legs quiver a bit.  “Oh, you like that,” he realized proudly.  “You’re getting so wet already.”

He hit you again, and again, until you were sobbing and begging for him to stop— not just because he was hurting you, but because you knew if he didn’t stop, you would reach your peak and that could not happen under any circumstances.  You couldn’t like this.  If you came, he would be able to tell so easily; he was literally staring right between your legs, there was nowhere to hide from him.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he groaned, “I need to get a taste of you.”

You, being foolish and innocent in these regards, thought he was going to kiss you again.  In a way, he did; he grabbed your thighs tightly as he leaned down and latched his mouth onto your aching, swollen sex, moaning loudly as he explored you with his tongue.  Your eyes shot wide open, your hands reaching down to push him away only to falter halfway through and dig into his hair instead.  Between his lips, his tongue, and his teeth, it was like you couldn’t keep track of all the ways he was touching you.  Each moan from him vibrated right through you, until you were moaning even louder.  It was shameful, and your heart ached to know you were betraying Walter like this, but you were lost completely in the throes of pleasure that Sebastian was giving you.

Forcing your eyes shut only made the feeling more intense as your hands tightened into fists, gathering the satin-y through beneath you in your clammy palms.  But opening your eyes and looking back at him wasn’t much help either, with the way he was staring back at you so intensely.  You’d never seen his eyes so dark before, not in all the years you’d known him, and it made your skin crawl.

He stopped briefly to catch his breath, his prideful smile glistening with your arousal; it was awfully lewd, and you hated how attractive he looked all disheveled and hungry like this.

“You really ought to be spoiled,” he decided, his voice deeper and rougher around the edges.  “It’s a waste if nobody’s making you come like this every day, getting a taste of this sweet little cunt.”

That word made you wince, and you realized you were more offended by what he was saying than what he was doing, oddly enough.

He got back to it with more vigor than before, pushing his tongue into you as you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming.  How could something so wrong feel so thoroughly right, so perfect?  You hated him just as much as you loved him in that moment, and you wanted him to stop just as much as you wanted him to keep going.  The tricky thing was that you didn’t get to decide if you loved or hated him, or he stopped or continued.  Your body and mind were his playthings, pliable to whatever he wanted to take from you.

Apparently, he wanted to take more from you; when he had pushed you to your peak against your wishes, and done so much more easily than you would’ve liked to admit, he sat back and tossed away his jacket, freeing him to shirk his suspenders and unbutton his trousers.

“N-no, Seba, you can’t—” you whimpered mindlessly, attempting to crawl back away from him on the bed.

“You’ll let me devour you until you come, but don’t want me to get mine, too?” he grinned.  “Greedy little girl.”

He grabbed you and pulled you back down into him, gripping the neckline of your dress and tearing it down the front in a few quick rips.  You fought back but it was laughably useless, your strength nothing against his.  

“I hate when you wear things like this— things he bought you,” he explained with a snarl.  “These pearls, too, he got you these, right?”

There wasn’t even time to answer before he grabbed the string and snapped it, sending the pearls flying everywhere and rolling across the floor.  You felt more naked without them than you did without the dress.  Still, you felt especially naked when he pressed his hips forward and his length slid through your folds.  “No,” you sighed, “no— stop, it’s not funny anymore.”

“Funny?” he grimaced.  You yelped when he grabbed your jaw tightly, forcing you to look back up at him with wide, watery eyes.  “I love you.  You hear me?  I love you.”

“I know,” you sighed shakily.

“Say it back,” he demanded.  “Say you love me, too.”

“I can’t,” you shuddered, crying when he released your jaw to slap you harshly across the face.

“I’m sorry that I had to do that,” he sighed.  “I don’t think it’s right for a man to strike a woman, even if it’s with an open hand, but you need to get some sense into you.  I know you love me, darling.  You just need to say it.”

That false impression of mercy faded quickly when you only responded with silence.

“Say it!” he yelled, dripping with rage.

“I love you!” you finally cried, and he made swift work of reaching down to push his cock right up against your entrance, driving forward with brutal force.  Your back arched and your head fell back, your hands gripping at his half-buttoned shirt— some kind of silent plea that he slow down a bit, perhaps.  It didn’t seem to work, each thrust deeper and faster than the last already.  The only sounds now were his quickening breaths right beside your ear, his skin slapping against yours, and your weak little cries that you choked out each time he pushed himself all the way into you.

It stung and burned inside you, just like your eyes stung with fresh tears and your chest burned with some incomprehensible storm of emotions.  You wouldn’t call anything about this a relief, and yet there was something cathartic about it as well.

“He’s not gonna want you once he knows what I’ve done to you,” he whispered in your ear, tickling your leg as he pulled it to wrap around his waist.  “Once he knows I’ve taken your innocence, made you mine.”

You whimpered as sobs made your chest convulse, but said nothing; you knew he was right.

“He’s not gonna want you once I’ve knocked you up.  Nobody will… but me.”

You started to struggle underneath him, pushing at his shoulders helplessly.  “No, you can’t— you have to stop.”

“You’ll make such a beautiful bride, darling, especially if you’re already showing,” he grinned, bringing his hand to rest just below your bellybutton— just over your womb.  “I’ve dreamed all my life that you’d carry my child,” he admitted wistfully.

Crying did more to egg him on than anything, it seemed, as you barely managed to speak enough to plead with him not to finish inside you.  Maybe you were naïve, but not so much that you didn't know how easily you could become pregnant if he didn't pull out, or how quickly your engagement would be broken off and your reputation ruined if that happened.

He ignored your denial and moved faster, running his hands all over your body with a few brief detours to grope your breasts and pinch the hardened nipples.  

As his lips attached to your neck, you felt his teeth sink into your skin as he sucked just by your pulse.  “Don’t,” you whimpered, “you’ll leave a mark.”

“Good,” he mumbled, breaking away from his work at your neck to teasingly nibble on your ear.  “It’s no trouble to me if everyone knows what I’ve done to you.  I want them to know.  Don’t you think they saw us come into my room?  Maybe if you moan loud enough they’ll get to hear you coming for me.”

It should’ve made you try even harder to stay quiet— and it did, it just didn’t work at all, and soon your moans were echoing around the room as he smiled down at you.  “Close again, already?  You’re so sweet for me,” he praised, somehow angling his hips just right to hit the most sensitive places inside you, your walls rippling and convulsing around him.

“You have t-to stop,” you breathed, holding the waves of pleasure back with everything you had.

“I can’t,” he groaned, “you feel too good.  It’s okay, darling, just let go…”

He continued with a string of whispered praises, but you couldn’t hear it anymore as your body began to erupt in jolts of pleasure, your arms and legs shaking uncontrollably where they were wrapped around his neck and hips, respectively.

“Keep going,” he encouraged gently, “you sound so beautiful when you come, darling.”

But the sensation threatened to consume you, burned you from the inside out until you couldn’t take anymore.  It was overwhelming to the point that you lost all control over your words, needing this to end more than you needed to preserve any dignity you had left.  “Please,” you sighed, “please come, Sebastian…”

He laughed a bit, kissing your ear again.  “Sweet girl, I knew you’d come around.  Want it inside, darling?”

You shook your head, he laughed again.

“Yes you do,” he sing-songed condescendingly, “you want to have my baby, don’t you?  Wanna leave that awful man and be with me, like you should?”

He must’ve known there was only one way to get you to agree to that.

“Remember, darling,” he whispered, “it won’t end until you say yes.”

“Yes,” you choked out, “I want to be with you, Seba, I want your baby— just please come and get off of me.”

He grinned and fucked you faster, the slapping of skin so loud now that surely anyone in the hall would hear it.  His own moans were quiet but desperate, breathless as he started to pump and flex inside you, his warmth coating your insides as he groaned your name weakly.  He laid on top of you, motionless, for quite some time until finally sitting up and pulling out; unfortunately, you were too weak to do much with that freedom, just laying there and staring up at the ceiling as numbness chilled your extremities and fogged your mind.

“You just stay here and catch your breath,” he instructed gently as he gave you one last kiss before sitting up, readjusting his trousers and suspenders before finding his jacket on the floor to put back on.  He circled the bed to look out his window into the gardens, seeming much too relaxed and satisfied with himself.   

“W-Walter,” you remembered suddenly.  “He’ll be looking for me.”

“Hm, doesn’t seem like it,” Sebastian frowned, “I can see him now, having quite the conversation with a fine young woman.”

“What?” you shivered, sitting up to look at him as he stared down into the yard.

“I’m looking right at him, darling.  I figured you knew about his… reputation…”

You did, but you never really believed it; the papers lied about Sebastian all the time, so surely rumors about your fiancé could be just as unfounded.

“I need to go,” you decided as you jumped up off the bed, trying to cover yourself with your torn dress.

“Sweetheart,” Sebastian cooed sympathetically as he looked back at you, “where are you gonna go dressed like that?  Or, should I say, not dressed like that?  I know my parties can get a little wild, but we try not to have any nudity.”

You hated that he was right; you were trapped here, until you found some way to dress yourself.  And frankly, leaving his room dressed in different clothes than when you came in was nearly as bad as leaving his room naked.

“I’ll get you something to wear, just give me a moment, alright?” he offered, stopping to give you a peck on the forehead before slipping out of the door and back into the party.

He took a deep breath when he shut the door behind him, closing his eyes briefly to stabilize himself before putting on a smile and rejoining his guests.  A lot of people tried to stop him on his way, congratulated him on the party or asking him mundane questions, but he shrugged them all off as he continued his search for Walter Penner.  He found him looking rather lost somewhere by the west wing of the house, a drink in each hand.

“Two at a time, I like your style,” Sebastian boomed as he patted Walter on the back affectionately.  “The drinks, I mean.  I don’t believe everything I read in the papers.”

“Good,” Walter chuckled, “because it isn’t true— about girls or drinks.  The second glass is for my lovely fiancée— you haven’t seen her, have you?”

“Oh, I believe I have,” Sebastian put on a face like he was thinking about where he’d last seen her.  “She was just leaving.”

“Leaving?!” Walter pshawed.

“Yes, she said she’d forgotten something she had to do and scurried out the door.  I tried to stop her, but you know how she is when she gets her mind on something.”

“Hm,” Walter frowned.  “I suppose I’m meant to go looking for her.”

“Take a coat, it’s cold out there,” Sebastian offered.  “And if you see her, do tell her I give her my best.”

“Always,” Walter nodded, setting his drinks down and merging back into the crowd as he navigated out of the party.  Sebastian hummed a little tune to himself as he made his way back to his room; he could hardly wait to see you again already, tell you all about how your unfaithful betrothed had run off with one of his more promiscuous friends, but he had to be careful not to run too fast on his bad leg.  He figured you wouldn’t believe it, truly, but you’d give in to the story anyways if it was reason enough to justify your affair with him.  You had a talent for accepting whatever reality served your purposes best, and he was happy to give you whatever you wanted.  He figured you’d want an extravagant wedding, too; that would be easy enough.  

Ascending the stairs and resting his hand on the knob to open his door, he braced himself to see you there and finally know you were his— and only his, forever.  All he’d ever wanted, just on the other side of a door.  If a poor boy can become a millionaire in spite of everything, and he can finally get his girl in spite of a pesky engagement, then maybe anything’s possible. It was you that had told him since he was a boy that dreams were just dreams and couldn’t come true; such a fool you were, a beautiful little fool— the best thing a girl can be, and now that you were his girl, he intended to cherish your foolishness rather than attempt to educate you. Because truthfully, you were a smart girl, and only a fool for him.

[diofasolia]

{Always}

{Shattered! Dream x Reader}

Shattered! Dream by @shattereddreamsau

Writings by me

Today (8/7) is Shattered! Dream's birthday and I decided to post a writing I did last year—which is also the reason why I eventually join in the tumblr

Because back when I wrote this story, I found Dark Cream comic, which made by amazing @zu-is-here

Her creations give me the inspiration for the writing

The story is long (it has like 2000 words in it) and may be a bit cheesy, but I'll be happy to know if you read the whole thing (◡ ω ◡)

******

Before the story start, I want to ask you a question.

   Do you believe that the worst person can change?

   Oh! How awkward, sorry, I ask the wrong question.

   What I meant to ask is—

   Do you believe that the best person, the kindest person in the world can change?

   Maybe…all it needs is a tiny push?

   The harsh whipping hits in my abdomen again. I kneel on the ground, thinking how deep the scar might be from that blow.

   "What're you doing!? Look at your king when I'm talking to you! Such a piece of useless trash!!"

   "I apologized, My Lord."

   Raising my bruised neck, I gaze at the former guardian of positivity. Those eyes that used to hold the tenderness, now only fill up with hatred.

   "Where're those fricking basters!? I told you to track down my brother and other Sanses!"

   "I'm sorry, My Lord. They escaped. I can't find where their location is–"

   Not even waiting for my sentence finished, another powerful punch land on my face. I watch as a tooth fall out of my mouth. Blood dripping down my chin.

   "Worthless! Can't even do a little task like that!"

   Multiple kicks and insults throw at me. The numb feeling slowly occurs in my torso as I curling up into a ball.

   Closing my eyes, the memories from the past arises in my mind, bringing me back to the day that I seal my fate.

   "Dream? Earth to Dream!"

   "(Y/N)? What's wrong, love?"

   "What's wrong? I've called your name for five times! But you didn't answer to me."

   Dream scratches the back of his skull, looking a bit embarrassed.

   "Is that so? I'm sorry, (Y/N)! It won't happen again, I swear!"

   I cuddle Dream close, letting out a giggle.

   "It's fine! I don't really mind it. But Dream, you tend to space out recently. Is there something on your mind? You can tell me everything, you know that, right?"

   Giving me a kiss on the cheek, Dream smiles gently. He assures me that there's nothing to worry about. It’s just the task of guardian makes him a little exhausted.

   "Well, if that's the case, go on and get some rest! I will inform you if something was up."

   "Okay! Thanks, (Y/N), I'm glad I have you by my side."

   "Me too, my dreams and hopes."

   It's been quiet in Dream's room. He must be very tired. I knock on his bedroom door, telling him to wake up.

   "Dream, I know you're tired. But you still need to eat."

   "Dream? Are you awake yet?"

   There's no answer.

   Guess I’ll have to get into his room.

   Yet no one is there, only an opening portal hanging in the air.

   A portal leads to Dream's corrupted universe.

   "I'll show you, brother. I know what you're feeling…I know what you're going through…"

   "No! Dream, stop!! You don't know what you're doing!!"

    Two vague voices shouting in the distance. I begin to run like my life is in danger.

    What the heck is going on here?

    What is this dreadful feeling?!

   I'm too slow.

    The half bitten black apple lay on the ground. I watch in horror as the small tendrils creeping out Dream's eye sockets. His painful screech rings in my ears.

   "Dream!!!"

    I reach out to him, hoping that I can comfort Dream in my arms. The positive energy…they gotta do something, right?

   "What…? Nightmare! Let go of me!! I need to…to get Dream!!"

   "No! You can't get near him now, (Y/N)! You'll…you'll get hurt!"

    I thrash in Nightmare's hold, screaming at the top of my lungs.

   "Dream!! No! Dream!!!"

   "What's wrong, love?"

   My teary eyes stare up, it's…Dream's voice.

   But it sends an unknown coldness down my spine.

   "Ahh, you're crying! Good, keep doing that."

   A sadistic grin spreads on Dream's face.

   "I love it."

   Nightmare is already sobbing, begging for his beloved brother to come back. I walk step by step to Dream, putting on the best smile I can muster.

   "My love…Dream…please, come back to me…! I love you. I know you're strong enough to resist those negative feelings…"

   Dream cackles loudly. The tentacles wrap tightly around my neck, pulling me closer to him.

   "Go back? To my weak self? (Y/N), when did you become stupid? Why would I do that?"

   "I've already past the point of no return."

   A bucket of freezing water splashes on me. I must have passed out during the abusing session.

   "Wake up."

   "Get clean up, we're leaving."

   I pick up my sore body, stumbling across the lonely hall that me and Dream live in. There's no one here except the two of us.

   "Make a choice, (Y/N). Will you join me? Or will you prefer to disobey me like my coward brother?"

   "I'll go with you."

   I want to weep, yet I can’t even shed a single tear. I shouldn't be upset. After all, it's me who decided to follow my corrupted lover.

   Filling up the bathtub, I submerge myself in the steamy water.

   "Why, (Y/N)!? Why are you side with him!? Open your eyes! Dream doesn't love you anymore. He's just using you!"

    "It doesn't matter, Nightmare."

   "Great job, (Y/N)! You make this AU full of despair and miseries! I always know you're my favorite soldier!"

   "It's my pleasure to serve you, my lord."

   I scrub my blood-stained skin, the wounds sting because of the soapy water. Some of the old gash reopened, making me yell in frustration.

   "We can save Dream! Don't lose any hope, (Y/N)!"

   "How? There are barely things we can do. It's over, Nightmare. Look at yourself! You transfer back because Dream shattered! How are you gonna turn him back? By let someone else eats a black apple again?!"

   The white dirty bandages wrap around my mess up torso. Why am I even bother treating my injures? They sure are going to reopen soon anyway.

   "No matter what you say to me, I won't change the path I've chosen, Nightmare."

   "I've already gone far enough."

   "I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

   I hate it so much.

   The smell won't disappear no matter how many times I wash it over and over.

   I hate it.

   My hair smells like those disgusting goop on Dream.

   Why can't I get rid of this sickening stink!?!

   Throwing the bottles at random direction, I tug my hair till I scream out.

   "What's with all that noises in there!? You better finish your business soon, I'm losing my patience!"

   I hate it.

   "I deeply apologize for making you wait for such a long time, my lord."

   I wish I can understand your pain sooner.

   "Whatever, time to leave."

   I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

   "My lord, where are we going, may I ask?"

   Dream's left eye glows in excitement.

   "I find out where those sneaky scums are hiding."

   With a wave of hand, Dream opens the portal leads to an unknown empty place.

   No one is left out.

   Nightmare, Ink, Blue, everyone's here.

   "And I'm going to give them a pleasant encounter."

   But today is a little different.

   Then all hell breaks out.

   Nightmare's starting to transform. The dark gooey substance covering up his body gradually.

   The same routine as usual. Nightmare pleads Dream to stop his actions while the former guardian of positivity just laugh it off, a bit talks here and there.

   "Miss me, dear brother?"

    The crazy laughter of Dream rings in the air.

   "Yes! Finally, things are getting interesting!"

   While Dream focusing on battling with Nightmare, I have to handle the two other skeletons.

   "I know deep down you don't want to fight us, (Y/N)! Let's just drop our weapons, okay?"

   Ink creates a bunch of arrows, ready to launch them at Dream. I block his charge immediately, slashing Ink's arm with my sword.

   My silence is always my only answer.

   "No one's going to get near Dream."

   I continue to attack Blue. We've already been through this conversation many times.

   "How…how's this possible?!"

   Dream can only defense himself from Nightmare as the latter one keeps on firing attacks. It looks like Nightmare gets more advantage of the battle.

   "Seems like you can't control your tentacles very well yet, little bro."

    Nightmare mocks, resulting Dream to lose his temper. He strikes at Nightmare blindly, only to receive a powerful blow in the guts.

   "Dream!!"

   I rush to Dream, who’s looking more exhausted than usual. From the way how he’s panting heavily, I know he's already losing too much strength to fight.

   "Get away from me! I don't need your help!!"

   The attack is sloppy but I didn't dodge it. Dream can beat me all he wants after I get him to safety.

   Even if it means I can possibly die.

   "My lord, I apologize, but we have to move to another universe again."

   Dream growls at me.

   "It's you who are dragging me down!!"

   They're still following us.

   I'm whacking to the ground in a flash. A heavy boot stamps on my ribs harshly.

   The nasty cracking sound and my piercing shirek fills in the air.

   "You're no longer useful to me."

    I watch as Dream disappears in a portal. He doesn't even spare a glance at me. Leaving me bleeding and slowly dying on the ground.

   "I've told you."

    Nightmare's lurking shadow towers above me.

   "Oh no, Ink! We must save (Y/N)! She's…!"

     Ink put a hand on Blue's shoulder, shaking his head solemnly.

   "We can't, Blue. Remember, our priority is to capture Dream."

   "Please, Night…"

     I find myself pleading to Nightmare.

   "Don't…kill Dream…"

   "You and I both know that's an empty promise, (Y/N)."

   Three skeletons begins to move towards the portal that opens by Ink. Before they leave, Nightmare whispers in a quiet voice but loud enough for me to catch.

   "…he's in Dreamtale."

   How much will you sacrifice for protecting your fallen love?

   "You really are dumb. You know that?"

   "Or you're just enjoy me breaking you apart bit by bit?"

   "Don't you scare of your own nightmares?"

   "I deserve it."

   "I'm already living with it."

   "You will always be my fading dreams."

   "It's my own redemption."

   "Surrender now, Dream. Then we can put an end to this whole mess."

   My time is running out.

    "Heh, I thought you know me well, dear brother. You should get the answer by yourself now."

   "…goodbye, my poor little brother.

   I pray to you, God. Let me see him one last time.

   I can't save him the last time.

    It's always a miracle how accurate the portal can lead to.

   "(Y…Y/N)?"

   This time, I'm going to save Dream.

   There's no pain anymore.

   "…at least…you……say my…name……one…last……time…"

   Crimson blood drips down my penetrated torso. I think I see Dream's crying. But that might be just my own tears.

   Forgive me, Dream.

   My collapsing body falls forward, landing on the soft grass surface before me.

(3rd pov)

   "Nightmare, I need your assistance."

   "I thought we're enemies now."

    "There's a method I want to try. It might succeed to bring Dream back."

   "Well, I'm here to listen."

   "She's just a tool."

   "Nothing else."

    "Because I know him well. The extreme emotion is the only possible way to get things right again."

   Dream mutters to himself like a broken recorder. Staring the wrecking body of yours, his non-existent heart begins to hurt.

    "I refuse! That's too dangerous! You surely will be dead in this terrible plan! Besides, how can you so sure he'll behave like you predict!?"

    "It's worth it. I'm doing this for the whole alternate universes, and him."

    "But…you…"

    "Wake up! I demand you to wake up now! (Y/N)!!"

    "It's not…worth for your own life."

    "Don't pity me. Pity for the one who can't help himself in his own nightmare."

    "Wake up."

   "Don't leave me…alone, (Y/N)…please…my love…"

   Ahh, it must be the time when he transfers into this horrible creature.

   Nightmare, who’s now in his uncorrupted form, widening his eyes.

   "…congratulations, (Y/N). Your suicidal plan…works."

   Dream doesn't recall when’s the last time he breaks down.

    No one dare to speak a word, except Dream drowning in his own pitiful cries.

     "Always."

     "I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

   You look at Nightmare with a smile, replying to him like it's the only correct answer in your mind.

[daitranscripts]

Vivienne Cutscene: From the Ashes

A Serious Blow

Vivienne Masterpost Related Quest: In Your Heart Shall Burn

Choice dependent dialogue:

Recruited pre-Skyhold - positive approval [1]

Recruited pre-Skyhold - low/neutral approval [2]

Recruited post-Skyhold (according to the wiki, this occurs with neutral approval, but there is nothing in the game files that confirms this and I can’t find a playthrough that triggers this dialogue. Requires further testing.) [3]

1 - Recruited pre-Skyhold - positive approval:

The PC approaches Vivienne in the courtyard, and she turns to greet them.

Vivienne: Maker! You’re a mess! Let me have a look at you. Are you all right, my dear? Were you hurt? You look dreadful.

Dialogue options:

General: I’m fine. [4] + Vivienne slightly approves

General: I’ve looked worse. [5]

General: We have bigger problems. [6]

4 - General: I’m fine. PC: I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Vivienne: You bear it well. Good. The troops will take their cue from your composure. Now… [7]

5 - General: I’ve looked worse. PC: You should have seen me an hour ago. Vivienne: We should do something about this dirt. We don’t need you frightening the faithful. [7]

6 - General: We have bigger problems. PC: Ignore the dirt. Let’s get to work. We must shore up our defenses. Vivienne: Inquisitor, you look like you’ve been dragged here behind a cart. We can’t have that, especially in front of your troops. [7]

7 - Scene continues.

Vivienne: Let’s keep up appearances. You’ve handled this crisis competently, saving as many lives as you did.  [16]

2 - Recruited pre-Skyhold - low/neutral approval

Vivienne looks up at the main hall of Skyhold and does not turn when the PC approaches.

Vivienne: It was a mistake to use Haven as a base of operations. The town was completely indefensible.

Dialogue options:

General: You’re right. [8] + Vivienne slightly approves

General: Don’t look at me. [9] - Vivienne slightly disapproves

General: You can blame me later. [10]

8 - General: You’re right. PC: It was a bad location. We should have moved sooner. [11]

9 - General: Don’t look at me. PC: I didn’t choose Haven. Cassandra and Leliana did. Vivienne: Accepting a bad choice blindly is hardly a virtue, darling. [11]

10 - General: You can blame me later. PC: A lot of our people just died. We will discuss whose fault that is later. Vivienne: Now is always the time, my dear. The past cannot be changed, and tomorrow may never come. [11]

11 - Scene continues.

Vivienne: You left yourself vulnerable to attack. It was a miscalculation, one that I’m sure you won’t repeat. [16]

3 - Recruited post-Skyhold:

The PC finds Vivienne in the loft over the main hall.

Vivienne: What a fascinating life you lead, my dear. First you fall out of the Fade, then you’re attacked by an Archdemon… If you wanted more public attention, you could have just held a ball.

Dialogue options:

General: Blame Corypheus. [12]

General: I’ll try that. [13] + Vivienne slightly approves

General: Don’t make jokes now. [14]

12 - General: Blame Corypheus. PC: I didn’t do anything. Corypheus is the one who attacked us. Vivienne: Doing nothing is exactly your mistake, my dear. [15]

13 - General: I’ll try that. PC: I’ll talk to Josephine. Maybe we can get matching gowns before the next attack. Vivienne: I’ve got a tailor in Val Royeaux who can work miracles, my dear, but not those sort of miracles. [15]

14 - General: Don’t make jokes now. PC: We’ve just been attacked. Try to take that seriously. Vivienne: Oh, believe me. I do. [15]

15 - Scene continues.

Vivienne: You left yourself vulnerable to attack. It was a miscalculation, one that I’m sure you won’t repeat.  [16]

16 - End choice dependent dialogue.

Vivienne: But the enemy struck a serious blow against you and the Inquisition. We must recognize that. You must.

Dialogue options:

Anxious: So much depends on me… [17]

Stoic: Mind your own business. [18] + Vivienne slightly approves

Sad: I couldn’t save them all. [19] + Vivienne slightly approves

Angry: Corypheus will pay for this. [20] + Vivienne slightly approves

Pleased: It worked in our favor. [21] - Vivienne slightly disapproves

17 - Anxious: So much depends on me… PC: So many people are joining this fight. What if I’m only leading them to their deaths? Vivienne: Death is a part of war, my dear, and a part of life. We cannot escape it. Those who die for the Inquisition give their lives willingly. The alternative is to forfeit all the cherish to these horrors from the sky. [22]

18 - Stoic: Mind your own business. PC: I’m not in need of guidance, Vivienne. Vivienne: Good. Stay on your guard. [22]

19 - Sad: I couldn’t save them all. PC: For every person I saved, two more were cut down. I failed them. Vivienne: You haven’t failed them, my dear. The men and women who fight for you gave their lives for a great cause, and they fought to the end. The rest still fight, and you will fail them if you give up now. [22]

20 - Angry: Corypheus will pay for this. PC: I am not going to forgive what happened at Haven. Corypheus will answer for what he’s done. Vivienne: You’re angry, good. Anger can save you when everything else is gone. Just make sure you put it to good use. [22]

21 - Pleased: It worked in our favor. PC: You’re wrong. We now have a better location and far more people at our disposal. This couldn’t have worked out better if I’d planned it. Vivienne: Yet we can hardly rely upon the whims of providence to give us all our victories. This defeat may have turned to our advantage, but it will not last long. [22]

22 - Scene continues.

Vivienne: Our enemy advances, Inquisitor. We must not sit idly by. Act first, and teach them to fear us.

Vivienne (low/neutral approval): You can become the leader the faithful require, but you must do it soon. Vivienne (med/high approval): I think you know what needs to be done, my dear.

Scene ends.

[hotdogct]

under the same sky ||| teaser

“An age where you feel like you could love anyone, where you put everything on the line for the smallest of things. Eighteen. Adults say that it’s an age where we laugh if a leaf tumbles by. But back then, we were more serious than any adult, more intense, and had our strength tested...That was how our eighteen was beginning.”

-Sung Shi-Won, 응답하라 1997.

Synopsis: 1999. Amongst the sea of white raincoats and balloons belonging to Club H.O.T. you befriend Kim Jungwoo - a boy with a secret - who immediately fills your world with vivid color. With the new millennium approaching almost as quickly as high school graduation, your heart belongs to one man only: Kangta. And as his own future looms in the distance, Jungwoo can’t decide if merely idolizes the man, or if he wants to be the next Kangta.

He is certain of one thing, however: he is absolutely smitten by you.

Pairing: Student!Jungwoo x (f) Student!Reader

Genre: late 90′s!au. fluff, slice of life. friends-to-lovers, angst-ish. painful ending, you’ve been warned. 💀 Word Count: 10k++++ (teaser: 1.5k) Release Date: ???

Snoopy0219: how am i going to find you tomorrow! Snoopy0219: should i sing out ‘baaa baaaaa’ like i’m looking for a sheep in a pasture?? Baabaakangta: hahahhahahahahhahahaaaa please Baabaakangta: would you actually?? Snoopy0219: ;) you underestimate me Snoopy0219: do you have a pager?? lets exchange numbers Snoopy0219: or you could dress up as a sheep hehe Snoopy0219: that would be one way to have kangta notice you!!! Baabaakangta: >:( not. funny. Baabaakangta: i’ll be wearing a cow print hat, i’ll have a snoopy related gift sitting outside my bag?? Snoopy0219: okay!! i’ll go up and down the line ‘baa baaaaaaa’ing until i find you!! ^__^ Snoopy0219: see you tomorrow, sheep!!!!!!

You nervously look around as you settle into your spot in line, in no immediate rush to sit down on the hard concrete. While there weren’t many others amongst the crowd, it dawns on you you aren’t the only one sporting a big, fluffy, cow print bucket hat. Thinking back to your conversation with Snoopy the night before, you pull the small dog plush you had bought as a gift for your new friend out of your drawstring bag, making sure it would be visible to anyone passing by. 

Time slowly passes once you sit. At first you’re eager to fidget with your pager - sending a quick ‘8282’ to Snoopy, checking nervously every few minutes for a reply. Eventually the device vibrates in your lap, notifying you that she was on her way. The atmosphere was getting livelier by the minute, with fan groups dispersed neatly all around the perimeter of the arena, identifiable immediately by the color of their balloons and raincoats. Fan club leaders equipped with bullhorns led their respective contingents in song and chants, a preview of the many performances to come later that evening. Club H.O.T. was no exception, with girls going up and down the ever-growing line handing out support goods and spare white balloons, while ‘Hope’ played on repeat through a boombox towards the front of the queue. When you first arrived, the unexpected fervor of fanchants made you flinch, but after a couple of minutes you found yourself joining in, mindlessly adding your voice to the collective. 

All of your senses were overwhelmed. There wasn’t much time for your mind to ruminate anxiously about finally meeting Snoopy face to face. Nothing about her had seemed dangerous - which is why you extended the invite in the first place. On the very slim chance that she turned out to be a creep, she’d be insane to harm you in such a crowded place. You weren’t really worried about getting along with Snoopy - you knew that wouldn’t be a problem from your extensive chat logs. Rather you were terrified of what she would think of you - if she would even want to be your friend after meeting you in person...

“Baa baa?”

Your pulse increases rapidly, hearing the agreed upon saying that you and Snoopy had laughed about last night. But when you stand up and turn around to get a good first look at your new friend, your jaw drops open.

Standing before you, scratch that - above you is a...boy? He towers over you, black hair with messy overgrown bangs that surely had to impact his field of vision, framed in contrast by the hood of his standard issue white raincoat. His features were round - expressive eyes, button nose, full cheeks and chapped lips, currently pressed together and curved upward in a smile. He blinks once, twice, tilts his head slightly to the side, much as a dog might. 

“Baa baa? It’s me, Snoopy.”

Unbelievable, you think to yourself. It takes you a moment to find your voice amidst the living nightmare you suddenly were inhabiting, but you knew you had to be assertive and stand your ground.

“Did she really send her brother to prank me?! Get lost.”

If the boy was insulted, he sure didn’t look it. He was unfazed - the same soft smile remained on his face despite your hostility, as if he was aware of something you weren’t.

“Sheep, it’s really me, honest.” 

“Prove it.”

You regret your words the moment they leave your mouth. Without hesitation or warning, the boy swiftly closes the gap between you two, his face too close for comfort as it grazes past your own; his hot breath tickling your forehead, cheek, and finally your ear, where he whispers:

“I know aaaaallllll about that dream you had the other day, the one where you ran into Kangta at the convenience store and then, you know...~~’ 

Stunned into silence, cheeks-practically-burning-off-of-your-face-they're-so-red, you resist your immediate urge to slap this guy across the face, the nerve of the pervert…! Instead you thrust your arms out, making contact with his chest and successfully managing to push him away. He stumbles two, three steps back, his hands up in defense.

“T-that was in confidence, you jerk!” you stutter out, looking down at the ground and praying your beet red cheeks would calm down sooner rather than later, covering them with your hands.

The boy laughs - rather loudly, melodically, and pulls a pager out of his back pocket. Seconds later, the telltale notification lands on your respective device. The sharp features of your face softened slightly at the realization. Snoopy, he really was...

Lifting your head back up, you scan the boy standing in front of you over once, twice - this time taking notice of his lanky frame, narrow shoulders, tiny waist. Certainly non-threatening, but you’re still skeptical.

“I’m really sorry, it was never my intention to mislead you. Let’s start this over.” the boy clears his throat, and then bows, softly. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Snoopy, but since that hasn’t really worked out...you can call me by my actual name - it’s Jungwoo.”

“Uh-huh, Jungwoo. Is this how you pick up girls? Chat them up on Club H.O.T. and then-”

“I wasn’t lying about my love for H.O.T.!” He interrupts you, hands waving wildly in the air. “I think they’re the coolest!” 

At this he steps back and begins dancing the all too familiar choreography for “Candy”, singing out loud to the chorus timidly. You dimly recall Snoopy Jungwoo mentioning the hours he would spend learning each new dance routine, and the effort clearly showed - his movements bright and sharp throughout the chorus. You could’ve sworn he was defying gravity when he jumped - you had never seen someone so lightweight on their feet before.

And yet your expression was unreadable - mind a blur on account of the entire situation unfolding in front of you. Jungwoo notices this as he finishes, the smile dropping from his face as he catches his breath. Silence falls briefly between you both.

“...you really think I’d travel all the way here from Gimpo for a joke?”

There was now a tinge of sadness apparent in Jungwoo’s voice, and guilt washes over you in a sudden, cold wave. You can feel his eyes on you, the weight of your initial cruelty and skepticism like a hundred stones in each pocket.

“I love dancing, I love singing,” he continues. “I genuinely think H.O.T. are the best, are the coolest. I’m studying to be an engineer - I love school, I get good grades. Why can’t I enjoy both things?” When you fail to come up with any semblance of a retort, Jungwoo sighs, shifts his weight back and forth on his hips. 

“That's why I didn’t tell you the truth. It’s why I’m here now. If word got out back home that I was a card carrying Club H.O.T. member...” he fishes around for his wallet in his back pocket, fumbles through the card slots until finding his membership card, showing it to you with shaky hands, “I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

There, printed in clean handwriting, was his name: 김정우.

You believed him by now - honestly you had the moment your pager went off while he was standing right in front of you. Snoopy, Jungwoo - whatever they wanted to call themselves - was your friend. What difference did his gender make, anyways? With a firm mental reminder to not share any of your dirty daydreams about Kangta going forward, you decided to finally drop your guard. It was time to have some fun.

“Some advice?” Jungwoo looks up at you upon hearing your voice, in the middle of putting his membership card back in his wallet. “If you don’t want your friends to find that card, maybe don’t carry it in your wallet.”

Jungwoo struggles for a moment before figuring out you were screwing with him. Once he puts two and two together, it doesn’t take long for his boisterous, musical laugh you heard minutes prior to fill the space between you and him, head thrown back to the late afternoon sky. It was now his turn to feel flustered - although his cheeks seemed to take on a much more flattering pink tone to them when embarrassed, a trait you were quickly envious of. An unspoken concession occurs between the two of you as you sit down.

To Jungwoo, however - it felt much more like falling.

authors note: my first ‘big’ fic!!! my baby!!! she’s very much still a work in progress, but after nearly 2 months of wanting to commit to writing something longer and then sitting on my bum lol. this is what i’ve got so far, but i do have a full outline and i’m chipping away at it day by day. any kind of feedback or general excitement for this would be so appreciated 🥺

[easily-infatuated23]

The Nanny

request: “Hello, could you write something where a few years after the death of his wife Draco hires a new nanny for Scorpius and ends up falling in love with her... could have anguish, but the ending would be happy? Please!My first language is not English I'm sorry if you got confused.” - @trouxa2x  

a/n: i hope this is what you wanted! and your english is great don’t worry :) also-there is a phone call which is in italics and song lyrics for La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf in italics

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Nanny!Reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mention of death for like a moment

summary: After the birth of his son and the death of his wife, Draco Malfoy needs a nanny 

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

The day Draco Malfoy’s son was born was the happiest and saddest day of his life. His loving wife Astoria had been diagnosed with a blood curse that killed her moments after Scorpius was born. His first breath, had been her last. Although he knew this would be the likely outcome, it was still crushing. Draco didn’t like to talk about his emotions and knew the only way to get over his wife’s death would be to burry himself in his work as a Healer. But with a baby, he couldn’t just shut out the world. He needed help. It was obvious he was struggling.

During the long process of making amends after the war, Draco had some how become close to the golden trio he had despised so much as a child. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had all come by to meet Scorpius and check in on Draco. He looked awful. The bags under his eyes were worse than during the war. “I have a friend who is looking for some work as a nanny, she’s great with kids, babies especially. I’ll get you her number” Hermione said, rummaging through her purse looking for her contacts book. Draco nodded slightly. He had considered getting a nanny but the idea of another woman acting motherly toward Scorpius made him feel sick. However, Draco politely took the number and thanked Hermione.

As the months continued on Draco found it easier to care for Scorpius. He had taken up a job as a consultant for the hospital so he could spend most of his time at home with his son. But as the months stretched into years, Draco grew depressed. Scorpius became fussier and fussier and the hospital was begging for him to come back as a full time Healer. “It’s time” Draco thought. He looked through the drawers of his desk until he found the phone number Hermione had given him nearly two years prior. He dialed the number, feeling anxious and unsure of exactly what to say.

“Hello?” a female voice answered.

“Hi um is this Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she, may I ask who is calling?”

“Oh yes um this is Draco Malfoy. I’m a friend of Hermione Gran- I mean Weasley’s.”

“Oh hello! I remember she mentioned a few years back you might be in need of a nanny.”

“Yes! Well, I had been handling it pretty well but now I am finding myself in need of some help so I can go back to work…”

“I see. Let me guess, those ‘terrible two’s’ are in full swing right about now” she chuckled.

“Yes exactly! I was wondering if you would consider interviewing to become a live-in nanny for my son Scorpius. I am not sure for how long or what I would pay you but-”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” she interrupted. “I’m sure we could conduct a formal interview as well but may I come over and just meet Scorpius first? I find that sometimes the baby will tell the parent whether or not the nanny is the right fit, even before an interview.”

“Yes of course. Can you come over around 11 am tomorrow?”

“Yes. See you then. Good day”

“Thank you, cheers”

He hung up the phone. He looked over at Scorpius sitting in his high chair. The baby gurgled and threw some cereal to the ground. Then seeing his cereal on the ground, Scorpius started to wail at an incredible volume. The interview couldn’t come soon enough. The next day at 11 am sharp, Y/N knocked on the door. When Draco opened it, she was met with the chaos that had become his daily life. The house was a mess and Scorpius was screaming. “Hi, welcome. Sorry about the mess” he stammered, showing her into the house. “Nice to meet you Mr. Malfoy” she replied cheerily. Seemingly unfazed, she walked into the living room, put down her purse, and sat down next to the screaming baby. Draco watched her as she began to rub the baby’s back and started to softly sing. The baby slowly began to quiet down until he was quiet enough for Draco to hear what Y/N was singing.

~Quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu’il me parle tout bas. Je vois la vie en rose. Il me dit des mots d’amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça m'fait quelque chose….~

The baby began to smile as Y/N picked him up and cradled him, still singing.

~Il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause. C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie. Et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon cœur qui bat..~

She then began to hum the tune more quietly and sway lightly. Scorpius’s eyes fluttered closed as he drifted to sleep. She smiled and looked up at his father. Draco was standing with his hand over his mouth, tears falling from his icy blue eyes. “Are you alright Mr. Malfoy?” she whispered. He nodded. He cleared his throat quietly before speaking. “La Vie en Rose was the song Astoria and I used for our first dance at our wedding”. “Oh I’m so sorry, if I had known I wouldn’t have…” He shook his head at her. “No it’s alright. I just… miss her”. She tilted her head sympathetically. “From what I’ve heard of her, she sounded lovely. I wish I could have met her.” Draco nodded and looked down at his shoes, trying to hold himself together.

“If you would tell me where his crib is I can put him down so we can start the formal interview. If you’d like” she said, knowing a subject change was what needed to occur. Draco nodded and gestured for her to follow him. Once Scorpius was in his crib, the adults went to the living room to discuss the particulars of the arrangement. Y/N told Draco about how she discovered her love for child care when she worked as a nanny for a short time while traveling in France. “When I came back to England, I worked for a few other Wizarding families including Hermione and Ron for a short time. Ron actually nick named me ‘the baby whisperer’” she said chuckling. “After what just happened, I’m inclined to believe him!” Draco replied. Without needing to consider it, Draco offered Y/N the job.

A year later Draco was still kicking himself daily for not hiring Y/N sooner. His life and mental health had improved drastically since she moved in. He was able to go back to working at the hospital full time and help people like he had always wanted. The two had developed a close friendship and Y/N became part of his family. The house felt almost foreign when she was gone. Though she was a live-in nanny, Draco still encouraged Y/N to take days off, and when she would go, Draco missed her terribly. He could tell Scorpius missed her too.

“You’re falling in love with her!” Hermione teased. She had come over to see Y/N and Draco and knew immediately. “What? No, she works for me. That would be highly inappropriate” he replied defensively. Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco looked across the room at Y/N. She was holding Scorpius near a window and was pointing at something and talking to him. Scorpius was giggling loudly and clapping his little chubby hands. Draco couldn’t help but smile. There was no doubt that he was fond of Y/N, but did he love her? She was great with Scorpius, she understood Draco’s feelings (sometimes better than he did), and she was beautiful. But her beauty wasn’t just external, she had a truly beautiful soul. Another six months went by before Draco was sure. He had fallen for Y/N. He hadn’t meant to fall for her, but she was easy to love. He tried not to act differently towards her but after the realization of his feelings, he couldn’t help it. It started with lingering glances and lead to going out of his way to have little moments of physical contact with her. Whether that was reaching for the same toy to give to Scorpius, or squeezing her hand to get her attention while Scorpius was sleeping. There was not a doubt in his mind about it. He loved her, whole heartedly.

Draco woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Scorpius crying. He rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed. He walked down the hallway and into his son’s room, only to find that Y/N was already there. She was standing with her back to the door, rocking Scorpius and singing to him. Draco stood outside of the room, leaning on the door frame as he watched Y/N calm the crying child. He couldn’t help but smile at her. Eventually, she stopped singing and spoke to Scorpius. “You are so loved Scorpius. Your dad loves you, I love you, and your mama loves in all the way from heaven.” Draco continued to smile but in a more melancholy way. Y/N had always made a point of talking to Scorpius about his mother, even though she knew the baby didn’t understand what she said. Draco still found it difficult to talk about Astoria, but Y/N had always insisted that Scorpius know how much his mother loved him, even though she was gone. She rocked him a few more times before placing him back into his crib. When she turned to face the door she smiled at Draco. “I’ll see you again in an hour or so” she joked. She walked past him and exited the room, making her way down to the first floor. Draco watched her walk away before returning to his room. Scorpius didn’t cry again that night but still Draco couldn’t sleep. He decided to go down to the kitchen and fix himself a sandwich, besides, if he was awake he might as well do something to pass the time. As he made his way down the hall to the stairs, he noticed a light was on in the kitchen. He walked down and found Y/N sitting in the kitchen. She was sitting at the kitchen counter eating a bowl of pasta and reading a book. She looked up when she heard him enter the room. “Can’t sleep?” she asked. He chuckled and nodded. “Welcome to the club. Look I even saved you a seat!” she joked, gesturing at the chair next to her.

He rummaged through the pantry and complied his sandwich. He then joined her at the table. She put her book down and angled herself in his direction. “You seem different” she said. He looked down at his plate, feeling a pit in his throat. He gulped. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You just seem…I don’t know, happier recently. I can’t put my finger on it”. Did she know about his feelings? Was she trying to bait him into admitting it? He forced himself to look at her. Even at 4 in the morning she was beautiful. He took a deep breath and decided to answer honestly. “I recently decided that I’m ready to open myself up to the idea of love again. Astoria wouldn’t want me to be alone for the rest of my life and something just told me its time” he said. Y/N smiled. “That’s really great Draco. I’m so happy for you”. She had a slight glimmer in her eye, she had to know. He eyed her a bit suspiciously. She laughed. “Ok ok don’t give me that look! Hermione might have mentioned to me that you had found someone and I had to ask! Whoever she is she’s a lucky girl” she turned back to her book.

Draco couldn’t believe what he heard. Y/N, the girl who some how knew him better than he knew himself, didn’t know he was in love with her! He smiled and rolled his eyes as he stood up and leaned his back against the counter, putting his hand over Y/N’s book. She looked up at him, some what puzzled. “Y/N, it’s you. I’ve fallen for you. Totally and completely” he said, hopefully sounding more courageous than he was feeling. Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t speak. She mouthed “me?” and pointed to herself. Draco’s smile widened and he nodded. She grinned. He cupped his hands around her cheeks and leaned in closely, so closely it was a wonder their eyelashes didn’t brush against each other. He waited for her to give him permission to close the gap between their bodies. “Kiss me” she whispered. He closed the gap and their lips touched, gently but still passionately. She stood up from her chair and rose to her tip toes as her hands played with his hair. The kissing became laughing as they came up for air. “I didn’t think it was possible to kiss someone and smile at the same time” Y/N said. “With you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop smiling”. There was a comfortable silence as they rested their foreheads against each other, enjoying being close. “I love you Y/N”. She looked up and into his eyes. “I love you too Draco”.

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 11: Confused

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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

He stared at you and put a hand to your chin. “You are so beautiful,” he said.

You blushed and moved your face close to his, much braver than you really were, since you knew it was a dream. His gaze bore through yours and he leaned down, gently pressing his lips to yours. Unbidden, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him deeper into the kiss. It was a feeling of complete ecstasy. Though, you felt strangely weighted on one side of your body than the other and you did not know why. You brushed that thought aside and continued to kiss Loki. His lips were so smooth it drove you mad.

“Oh, Loki,” you said, licking across his lips.

“Had I known you would be this...zealous in the morning, I might have had you here sooner,” his voice was a low purr.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you looked into his wide blues. Oh no. Oh god. Your stomach dropped as you rubbed your lips together and felt wetness...his saliva. Your professor’s saliva.

You launched yourself away from him so hard that you fell off the bed in a pile of sheets and a pillow you tried grabbing onto.

Professor Laufeyson’s dark head peeked over the side of the bed, eyebrows raised. “Are you alright Miss Eves?”

You felt for your clothes, relieved to feel them there and that you had not stripped them off in the middle of the night like a lust driven maniac. The desire to disappear into the ground occurred, but you forced yourself to raise your eyes and look up at him. “Professor, I am so sorry, I-I thought it was a dream.”

He rolled over onto his stomach and rested his head in his hands with a smirk. “And what, pray tell, would you be dreaming about, Miss Eves?” He said with an eyebrow raised as he looked down at your body. You felt yourself grow self-conscious and lifted the sheet closer to you even though you were clothed. He had never looked at you like that before. There was a mischievous gleam in his gaze that made you feel like you were the only interesting thing in the room. And that was a dangerous notion.

You glanced at his side where the wound was. The bandages. “How are you feeling?”

He looked down at himself and lightly grazed the spot. “Well, it seems you picked the right potion, since I have not grown any vestigial organs,” he looked back at you and smiled. “You saved my life, Miss Eves.”

You looked away from his intense gaze. “T-thank you for coming to get me back there. You saved my life too.” Then a thought popped into your mind. You cocked your head to the side. “If you could apparate us out of there, why did you wait until Fenris recovered? Why didn’t you get us out of there right away?” You looked at him and he smiled wider, like a cat caught with a canary in its mouth.

Your butterflies withered away in anger. “You didn’t come for me. You went to look for Fenris to find the Tesseract!”

He got off the bed and circled his hands in the air. The sheets levitated off of you and neatly reassembled themselves atop the bed. “I saw students go where they ought not to be, so I did my duty as a professor. Then, there was an opportunity so -”

“An opportunity?” You said, indignant. “Before or after I get eaten by the beast?”

He stopped arranging his bed and walked around it, towards you. “Come off the floor, love.”

You refused to take his hand, but you sat on the bed beside him, crossing your arms.

He smiled at your movements in the sort of way that could disarm you completely, but you held strong against his charms. He reached out to your face and moved a stray lock of hair away. His fingers lingered there, and he caressed your cheek. “I would not let anything happen to you. In all honesty, I had not planned to face the creature this early, but I went into the forest because of you.”

The butterflies came back slowly, one at a time, filling your stomach with a steady mixture of happiness and fear. “So, you will go after Fenris again? Even though you nearly died this time?”

Professor Laufeyson lowered his hand and took a breath. He looked away from you for a moment, and you thought you saw a look of forlorn on his face. “Yes I will, but,” he said, turning back to you, “it will be on the coldest night of winter, for that is apparent when he is at his weakest.”

Your eyes lit up. “So that’s at least two months from now!” I can still save him.

Professor Laufeyson chuckled at your excitement. Then his gaze darkened as he looked at you with that look in his eyes that made your heart leap into your throat. He leaned towards you and spoke in your ear. “Now, what shall I do to bide my time?” His voice was low and husky.

You felt your nipples harden underneath your shirt and reflexively leaned into his body as he placed one gentle kiss on your neck. Then, as soon as you felt him, he was gone, and you nearly fell back onto the bed. You looked up, confused to see him standing at the end of the bed, with a wide grin.

“As your professor, Miss Eves, it is my duty to reprimand you for breaking the rules. I will speak with the head of your house, Professor Bjorn, regarding your...punishment. For now, minus thirty points for Hufflepuff.”

You scoffed. “What?”

His eyes glinted dangerously. “Did you really think I would let you run free when you nearly killed yourself and endangered two other students? There are no favourites to be played here, Miss Eves, if that’s what you were thinking.” His gaze lowered and though his words were completely proper, the low tone of his voice and the intensity of his gaze seemed to say something else entirely. Just wait and see, he seemed to say. “I’ll put in a good word with the Headmistress not to expel you and your friends, since you did manage to save the boy.” He actually winked at you and gestured to the door for you to leave. “You may want to visit your friends in the infirmary. I’m sure they’ll be worried sick.”

Still in shock about the drastic change of tone, you got up and walked to the door. You looked back, wondering what happened, or if you had done something to elicit the change. When you looked back at him, he was occupied with arranging his wardrobe for the day, not even looking at you.

Your heart sank a little, but you left without another word.

***

After a long warm shower, and a change of clothes, you felt a bit like yourself again. Your black pleated skirt hung crisply over your thighs and you adored the feeling of putting on fresh black knee-high socks. You sighed with a comforted relief. Your hair was damp, clean and smelled subtly of roses.

You tried to avoid thinking about Professor Laufeyson and failed miserably. It was the thought of being suspended that lingered in your brain. What if he could not convince Headmistress Frigga not to expel you? It was not as if he curried much favour with anyone at the school.

Then there was his strange behaviour. Was it because you accidentally kissed him? Oh, what a fool! How incredibly inappropriate. You berated yourself, though a small part of you, the evil hedonistic part, cheered you on grandly. For a brief moment, you thought he had enjoyed himself...just a little? Though, he was the type of person who always seemed to enjoy themselves, whether or not they really did. Professor Laufeyson could put on whatever emotion he wanted like a second skin, regardless of what he felt underneath.

An annoyed huff escaped your lips as you passed the halls and walked to the infirmary.

“You lying, cheating scum!”

Turning around, you saw a livid Valkyrie stalk towards you as if she might attack. Oh dear, she looked terribly angry.

You raised your hands up in defense. “Listen-”

“Oh, don’t you ‘listen’ me! I can’t believe you went off to the Forbidden Forest and nearly got yourself killed without me!” She looked genuinely hurt, though you burst into laughter.

“I-I’m sorry, you were injured, and I didn’t want to put you in danger!” you said, and she punched you in the arm. “Ow! I’m quite bruised I’ll have you know,” you said, frowning.

“Oh sod off, you seem well enough...but I am proud of you,” she said, linking her arm through yours with a grumble.

You glanced at her with a grateful smile. The best thing about Valkyrie was that she never stayed mad for long, though it happened frequently.

“You saved the kid, and I’m bloody jealous! You’re gonna ruin Gryffindor’s reputation with that attitude,” she said, elbowing you gently.

Both of you laughed and headed towards the infirmary. You were cut off when you saw Headmistress Frigga along with several other teachers waiting for you.

“I see you’re well,” Headmistress Frigga said, looking down at you. A twinkle remained in her eyes and you could not tell whether she was angry or impressed.

Beside her stood Professor Sif, Bjorn, Heimdall, Fandral, and Hogun. Professor Sif looked angry as ever and threw you and Valkyrie a poisonous gaze. Professor Bjorn stood off to the side, holding his hand stiffly in his pocket as if were trying to concentrate on staying absolutely still. Professor Heimdall looked through you with disappointment, and that was what initially soured your laughter right away. Fandral and Hogun looked stern, though they regarded you with a sympathetic smile.

You hung your head and let go of Valkyrie, who whispered “good luck”.

“Can I see them?” you said.

“Absolutely not!” Professor Sif spat.

Headmistress Frigga chuckled. “Now, now, Professor Sif, I think that she deserves to check in on her friends. Pom has been asking about you all morning.”

She led you to the main room where several of those students who suffered injuries from the bird attack during the Quidditch game laid in bed. Though the room felt smaller than the last time you were there visiting Valkyrie.

There was Pom, sitting in a chair beside her brother, who laid in bed with a large bandage on the side of his body. There was a space where his arm should have been and your heart twinged for him. You had not heard of any spell or potion that could regenerate an entire limb.

“Freya!” Pom said, her eyes lighting up when she saw you. She jumped off her chair and ran to embrace you.

You smiled and hugged her back tightly. “I’m so glad he’s alright,” you said.

Pom stepped towards her brother, who was sleeping, and brushed his hand. “He’s alive because of you, and I don't know how we could ever repay you.” She looked back at you with tears in her eyes.

“He’s alive, and that’s all that matters,” you said, smiling at Pom.

Headmistress Frigga stood to the side, waiting for you. You turned to her and pleaded, “please don’t punish them. I made Mo and Pom come with me. It was all my fault.”

Pom was beginning to protest, but you cut her off with a look.

The Headmistress smiled at you with a knowing expression. “Come, Freya.” She led you away from the bed and towards the infirmary exit where the others were. “What you did some might consider foolish,” she said, hands clasped behind her back.

You looked at the floor as you walked.

“But others may call it brave.”

You glanced at her and she looked at you with a twinkle in her eyes. “I cannot condone your behavior, Freya, but you did manage to rescue Ken Clemmens. I don’t think he would have survived another day alone had you not found him. Fifty points shall be awarded to Hufflepuff for your bravery.”

As you entered the hallway where the professors stood, a small smile reached your lips at Headmistress Frigga’s generosity. A glare from Professor Sif wiped the smile off your face as you awaited your punishment. But you felt a little lighter knowing you would not be expelled.

“Well, it seems we have some punishments to dole out, don’t we?” Headmistress Frigga said. “Miss Clemmens will be assisting Professor Fandral for detention for the rest of the term, while Mister Darwish will assist Professor Hogun in the gardens. As for you, Miss Eves, you will be assisting Professor Sif this week with events preparation. The Halloween Ball was set to be cancelled. However, I believe it is a time to celebrate, now that we have our missing student alive and well.”

You lightened a little more at your punishment, though you were not excited to spend any more time with Sif. The Halloween Ball was something you and Valkyrie looked forward to every year.

“And, for the rest of the term, Miss Eves will assist Professor Laufeyson for detention,” the Headmistress announced.

You felt your stomach drop. “Excuse me, madame?”

Professor Fandral saw the terror on your face and said to the Headmistress, “Are you sure? She can assist me with Miss Clemmens if she would like.”

Professor Bjorn coughed and said in his raspy voice, “or she can assist me, out in the fields. I got flobberworms eatin’ all the cabbages.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of detention with Professor Laufeyson, though not all of it was dread.

Professor Sif grumbled. “Nobody switches detention. What, Miss Eves, are you scared of our new Potions master?” She said with a vicious smile and a raised brow.

A sudden flash of jealousy hit you when you realized Professor Sif must have been thinking of the night she and Professor Laufeyson had...relations. You raised your eyes to face her. “No, I am not.”

“Lovely!” Headmistress Frigga said with a clap of her hands. “Then let us embark on the month of October with raised spirits, and a better inclination to follow the rules, hm?” Headmistress Frigga said, adding the last bit in a lower tone for you.

You nodded as your stomach was once again home to thousands of butterflies just wondering what in all hell Professor Laufeyson would do with you in detention.

[emily-the-fae]

Sound of a Heartbeat

Part 4. Negotiations, Exortions and Stories of the Past

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6

Surprisingly, this story continues to move further for me.

Back to the characters where we left them in the previous part - with some heated arguments and intimate talks.

Pairing: Dracula x OC

Warnings: none, apart from lung diseases, wounds and Adrian being a total sweetheart

Next morning Shari woke up to sounds of footsteps and hushed speech. Straight away she knew the upcoming conversation will have to be one hell of a diplomatic achievement – how do you explain your sudden desire to leave to a group of half vampire, speaker and a vampire hunter who were most probably fighting for your life during the last three days. Trevor would be completely furious. Better stand next to Sypha when presenting the decision, just in case he suddenly has the wish to use his whip. You never know how the Belmont reacts, though possibly Shari could still drag it through without making a big fuss – Lisa was definitely right about one thing: she has made a habit of negotiating her way with people, especially the ones that were apprehensive or disliked her. Truth to say, nine out of ten were either of the two.

- And don't forget, you are our healer, how are we...!?

- And don't forget, you are our healer, how are we...!?

- So far I wasn't so much required, you guys can carry on perfectly well without me.

- I'm still not sure if it is a good idea, Shari, if you want to get some rest by leaving... It may only be more dangerous for you, - Sypha argued.

- Don’t you even think of supporting her! She took a few years off our lifespans with this incident! We can’t just let you…

- No, wait, you don't get it, I...

- Shari!

- Stop bossing me around, Trevor, I am not a child! I have not finished.

- Trevor, please calm down, she is neither under your command, nor your sibling. If she wants to leave, it is her choice, - Adrian stepped in, clearly annoyed with the three.

- See? I can perfectly… - Shari tried to pick up.

- Shari, - Adrian interrupted. – Can I speak with you privately?

The healer was genuinely startled for a moment. She turned to look Adrian in the eyes – probably for the first time since the incident – trying to estimate his emotions and plan her defense strategy. She was never scared of him – or at least she never showed that he scared her sometimes, because surely being sane and realistic she could not ignore the obvious danger presented by those sharp fangs and golden eyes. Still Shari was used to considering him a friend, his malevolent side almost unable to turn against her.

Now she was startled and – honestly – slightly scared. For a moment she thought she saw it in his eyes that he looked right through her: that he perhaps watched her and Lisa or sensed her thoughts or some other vampire telepathy kind of thing. That maybe he thought she was a traitor.

Then he smiled warmly and nodded his head to the side, gesturing for her to follow him away from Trevor and Sypha – and Shari straight away knew whatever it was, he was ready to be on her side.

- Are you sure you need this resting? I mean clearly you do, you are paler than father when he wakes up, but still… Sari, I know you are stronger than you look, but a witch traveling alone during such a time doesn’t seem the brightest idea to me, - Adrian spoke quickly and quietly, for others not to hear their discussion. Shari felt ashamed for how it continued to surprise her that he sounded genuinely concerned.

- Adrian, I’ll be fine. I swear. I just… I don’t feel well…for, let’s say, various reasons, not only the attack. It just suddenly occurred to me that since your father seems to be watching and purposefully slowing you down, it may be a good decision for me to…

- To not stick around and lower the risk of encountering him or strong specifically directed demons? – she nodded in response. – Well, I can get that… And Shari, - he suddenly took her hand, his tone turning uncharacteristically warm. – I’m sorry.

- You don’t have to. We already spoke about…

- Not about that. About your disease. I’m so sorry. If only I knew how to help you – I could have known the way, you know, I once had the access to knowledge that could have… I’m so sorry for you.

They stood in silence for a few moments. Shari found herself unable to look into his eyes, staring at the ground.

- For how long have you known? – she rasped, barely recognizing her own quiet voice.

- Almost as soon as we met… Shari, I…

- Don’t. It’s alright, Adrian, I just didn’t realize you knew and this struck me a little…

- Do you know where you will be heading? – if she ever was grateful to him for anything – though she was grateful for plenty of things to be fair – it was his ability to catch onto the atmosphere and change the topic when it is very much needed.

- I… yeah sure, of course I do, I have a rough plan of what to do. Thanks, - she coughed dryly a few times, still refusing to lookup and meet his gaze.

- Shari?

- Yes.

- Promise me you will be fine. Not to be dramatic, but I… have gotten used to you quite a lot.

Shari chuckled.

- Will do my best, - she finally looked up at him and saw the half-vampire smile broadly. – I’ve gotten pretty used to you too, you overgrown puppy, - they stood in silence for some time.

- Almost forgot, one last thing before we face the storm of unacceptance named Trevor, - he blurted out, when she moved tostep away and turn back to the campsite.

- Yes?

Adrian did not say a word – he simply opened his arms and Shari fell into the embrace without even thinking. She felt utterly childish for being this familiar with him. She also felt it was nice to have someone to turn to when feeling torn and exhausted without having to explain the whirlwind of emotion in your head.

Shari shouldn’t have been surprised that it was Adrian who let her go with such ease. He knew he could trust her decisions, he always did. She was somewhat flattered by the way he treated her as an advisor and assistant even though she was no way as knowledgeable as him; the half-vampire always showed that he believed she had an own analyzed perspective of things, that she wouldn’t be reckless. This time though his trust in her rationality might have failed him. Any way it was, he openly supported her decision and expressed the hope that she would be able to catch up with them in some time.

Shari knew Trevor thought Dracula hypnotized her into surrender and laughed at it to herself. If only he had a clue that it was the human Dracula's wife who controlled her.

In the end of that emotionally exhausting morning they finally parted ways: the trio went in the direction of the closest town, hesitant to leave their friend, but unwillingly agreeing it should be done for greater good; Shari stayed at the campsite with Rodo for a bit longer, motivating it with the need of rest. Adrian threw a concerned glance in her direction, but said nothing. The vampire felt there was something wrong, but decided to let it slide, since he had already supported her decision; if she said she needed rest, then so be it.

In fact, although Shari did tell him she had a rough plan of further action, in reality she had little to no ideas in which direction to move and absolutely no wish of discussing it with thin air in front of her disbelieving friends: they would definitely not see Lisa and they would definitely think she was hallucinating after the attack. To be fair, she could never herself be sure if that wasn't exactly the case. Maybe she was talking to an imaginary friend. However, since she had already decided to believe in the ghost's existence, she had to play along that assumption.

Lisa didn’t leave her waiting and appeared as soon as they were left alone, Shari sitting by the campfire a little lost and a little tired; a victorious smile played on the ghost's lips, as she sat by the fire next to the girl. Rodo made no sign of noticing their guest, only slightly shaking his furry head and letting out a jawn.

- What? - asked Shari, annoyed by the constant attention of the ghost. She took the cattle off the fire and set it aside to cool down a bit. She needed something warm to drink if she wanted to keep her blood and lungs inside her body.

- We have to move out, - Lisa smiled, now more gently, watching the human's movements.

- It would be nice if I knew where we went, - replied Shari, slowly looking around, taking in the little amount of her personal belongings lying about - there wouldn't be much packing when she would have finally decided to pick herself off the ground.

- I'll guide you.

- What if you disappear?

- I won't.

- What if I don't want to go? What if you only tell me that you are leading me to the castle, while in reality you will lead me to Dracula? That is actually most probably what is going to happen, - Shari finally expressed her greatest worry and doubt. She could not just trust Lisa, she wanted to, but couldn't bring herself to do so. The woman was most probably still here because of them - Dracula and Adrian - so her greatest concern would be to stop their fight in any way possible in order to finally peacefully leave them, not care about some girl getting hurt in the process.

- I believe you will just have to trust me. I have told you already, I only want to stop this war with as little blood as possible, especially when it comes to Adrian’s or Vlad-I meant Dracula’s blood. You will be of very little help to me if I simply spend time leading you to your death. Besides, I shall remind you, that your illness is not exactly leading you to a happy life, so you decided trusting me on that one, - Lisa winked at her and stood up; Shari clenched her teeth: well, that was a very good point, but definitely a blow-below-the-waist strategy. - We should move out, the sooner we start - the quicker we'll be there.

- You know, you're like an older sister that I never wished to have, - Shari huffed in annoyance, but finished her tea quickly and proceeded to pack. The fact that she was annoyed didn't cancel the fact that Lisa was right. She had to move out.

***

The day trip was completely uneventful. The few villages they had passed didn't show any signs of having been attacked, but Lisa still made Shari keep away from them - maybe it was for the best, people were very unsafe these days, the fear made them aggressive to any newcomers. Especially to ones possessing magical powers and followed by black wolf-demons. Going alone to such a village could be suicidal.

It was only at the age of ten, that Shari found out she had it in her. That one trait that made people wish your head on a pike no matter how you behave. Animals weren't just "friendly" with her, no-no, friendly is one understandable thing, especially with a little child. However, "friendly" is definitely not the most accurate description of the behaviour of the large black wolf that almost attacked her one day on the edge of the woods, stopping in mid-jump as the girl turned to face it - next picture: the wolf rolling on the ground before her like and ordinary dog demanding bellyrubs. The animals would not simply like her, they would obey her as if she spoke to them directly. She had no idea where the power came from and so preferred to think she was born into her witchcraft. Her mother insisted upon it too, saying that poor old gramma was the same odd thing in her youth. At least that was what Shari remembered her saying when they did discuss her little problem. That was until she turned sixteen – until she suddenly was separate from her family and out on her own. Until the first time the people wanted to get her burned. First of many more to come.She had learned to control herself and make use of herself, never expressing anything people would see as dark wizardry, nothing even seemingly malevolent, working for the local healer, helping out as much as she could and learning some things here or there by herself about herbs and illnesses - not a study, barely a child's curiosity.

Then it was a year of particularly poor crops after an awfully dry summer, Shari sensed it was coming before she ever knew why it was so - the villagers had no other way of dealing with such misfortunes. They placed all the blame on the odd girl who learned to cure wounds and diseases and spoke to the wild animals as she pleased. Burning witches was a very common sacrifice, after all.

The night before the burning was the night she ran. She knew they would come for her, so she escaped before they could get her, left her home to set to travel into unknown. And never truly stopped running ever since.

Lisa pitied her for that, even though Shari tried to brush it off as nothing. She was a witch after all and turned to be quite a good thief, quite some reason for the other humans to hate her already, even though she couldn't say theft pleased her herself - she was surviving the way she could: moving about and healing didn't ever buy her enough bread or material. The longest she ever stayed in a town was three months - then the cycle had to start over.

Lisa understood her reasoning for that quite well. At first she wanted to argue that staying longer might have bought Shari some trust, but held her tongue - she wasn't one to give that sort of advice, not now, not after everything that happened to her exactly for staying a little too long.

When they finally stopped for the night, Shari was almost falling - her legs unwilling to carry her anymore - and bending over in loud wet coughs, feeling the taste of her own blood in her mouth and suffocating in attempts to hold back from even more coughing. The freezing weather and bloodloss, even compensated with Sypha's magic, were not going to make this journey easier for her. Shari felt the feather light caress of the ghost's hand on her back and breathed in deeply, trying to calm her heartrate.

There was pain in her ribs now too - she was scratched quite badly a few days ago by one of the attacking demons. They were fighting off several of the things and one jumped her from behind: neither she nor Rodo had noticed it before. Shari succeeded in turning to face it, making the demon bounce off her and back away as soon as she made eye contact - these things were usually not much harder to control than wolves, especially with Rodo at her side. Unfortunately, before she managed to kick it off completely, the demon had left an unpleasant scratch across her ribcage, making her fall to the ground and lose the mental contact - the beast jumped back on her in a matter of seconds and for a moment Shari thought that would be her end. Only by luck Adrian was swift enough to protect her, fighting the thing away and aiding her to recover later - the sharp claws left three deep gashes on her skin and the girl had to spend a long time tending to herself after the fight, hoping the wound would not get infected with whatever those things could carry on their paws.

The wound had been nicely bandaged before, all was going well, but apparently Dracula's attack had erased that bit of responsibility from her memory and now Shari suddenly faced yet another problem: rebandaging was not only desirable, but very much a necessity by the time she dropped to the ground, settling for the night. The soaked and dried blood on the old bands now scratched and tore at the healing wound, causing her pain.

- ‘T is okay, - she told the ghost, quickly going to sit down on the ground. Removing the band did not take much time as well as putting on a new one-not when she was used to doing it anyways, but removing a part of her clothes let the cold bite her even more in the process, so when she was finished, she was freezing to the bone, so she wrapped herself in whatever warm cloths she had left and pressed closer to Rodo, to keep at least some body heat to herself. They decided to make no fires, as Shari was now mostly defenseless and the girl already felt how much she would regret parting ways with her friends. Lisa's care and Rodo's warm side couldn't do much to keep away the cold and her lungs were almost screaming in protest. She looked at Lisa's pitiful apologetic face and whispered: - I'm already used to it, - no you aren't, this is getting worse by second and you desperately need a fire.

- You have to fall asleep quickly. Tomorrow we'll start off at dusk, - Shari lay between Rodo's back and a large tree trunk; Lisa sat next to her head, looking down at the tired healer.

- I wish it was just as easy for me to move as it is for you, - Shari whispered sleepily.

- Trust me, you don't, - both laughed.

- How much is there left? Of the way?

- If you're lucky - and persistent, we may be there by tomorrow night, - Lisa answered reassuringly.

- Really? That's so fast... Too fast, to be fair. I thought the castle was hard to catch, - she stared back at Lisa.

- Parts of it yes, it moves as a whole. But there are stable parts - that one particular entrance was the one I used when I first found him. It was very hard to track - not many know about it, it's kind of in magically protected grounds or something - nobody has the incentive to go there, - the ghost explained.

- But you had, - Shari smirked.

- Of course I had.

- I wonder how he hadn’t killed you straight away.

- Oh, but he wanted to. He tried to frighten me – told me he would drink my blood, all that classical stuff.

- So what did you do?

- Told him his manners needed repolishing.

Pause. Shari chuckled. Then snorted. Then laughed out loud.

- And he did not murder you for such an offense?

- I believe he wanted to for a moment, but was too startled to act… And then it sort of…happened. I believe it was a big “why not” for both of us, until we suddenly saw something deeper to it, - Lisa smiled to herself, seemingly diving through memories.

- Sounds a little like me meeting Adrian for the first time – God knows I saw those large fangs and yellow eyes straight away, I knew very well what he was, just couldn’t…

- Can’t beware the dark, when it’s choice between stepping in or watching someone suffer?

- Something of the kind. My self-preservation goes way below. I called him in when I saw him bleeding out by the edge of the town – half expected him to drain me as soon as I bandaged him and when he… well, as you can see, didn’t… We just talked. He stayed over for a week gaining strength, not attempting to eat me – I guess that was the first out of the only two occasions when someone I have helped did not try to accuse me of devilish business in one way or another and just accepted the help. Of course he had to be not human.

- The second time that happened was with Rodo, wasn’t it? Humans don’t tend to be overly grateful.

Both chuckled.

- Adrian seems quite attached to you, - Lisa turned to Shari. – Thanks for that. For accepting him. I was always worried that he will have a hard time fitting in…pretty much anywhere, being what he is. So thank you.

- No need to. He is nice, your son. Feels like having a friend for once.

Pause. Shari shrugged and sighed.

- Tomorrow, you said, right? Though I can't say that I'm exactly lucky, so your prediction about the time is probably too optimistic, we are bound to have some struggle tomorrow,- she huffed, turning to her side and snuggling to Rodo's furry back.

- The castle shouldn't be so far away, it is quite close to Tragoviste, shouldn't have taken us long, - Lisa explained. - And you are lucky, sunshine - remember? You survived Dracula's bite. That mark on your neck is your lucky ticket now, - Lisa winked and lay back against the tree trunk. Shari wanted to think of a witty reply, but was interrupted by another violent fit of cough and decided to let it go. The healer cuddled into Rodo’s warm side and fell into uneasy sleep, hoping that the morning would bring at least some relief.

[cuttoothed]

172 spoilers

Post episode fic, because damn it these boys need to talk about stuff! Contains discussion of Jon’s season 4 feeding on victims.

*

Jon leads the way down a narrow, winding corridor while the stage noises dim behind them, sounds of laughter and scrabbling legs and the occasional scream becoming indistinct and indistinguishable. The air still smells like cigarette ash and blood, but even that fades as they approach a door with a brightly lit sign above it. The sign reads NO EXIT, but Jon knows that doesn’t refer to them. 

He pushes down on the rusted crash bar, which squeaks in protest before giving way, and the door opens into the gray light of the ruined world. 

From outside, Jon notices, the theater looks a bit like the Lyceum, except far more massive, its tarnished edifice warped and stretched into a predictably web-like arrangement. Maybe it was the Lyceum, once.

They walk a good distance without saying anything. Martin has a look on his face that says he’s thinking; his percolating look, Jon calls it, a little crease between his eyebrows and his lips moving faintly as he has some fierce discussion with himself⁠. He knows better than to interrupt Martin when he’s percolating. Sooner or later the thoughts he’s brewing will drip through and be ready, and he’ll tell Jon about it.   

Frankly, considering where they’ve come from, Jon is happy to wait a while before talking about it. He’d be just as happy not to talk about it at all, but he knows that’s a harmful impulse, self-destruction framed as self-defense. That isn’t who he’s chosen to be anymore. It still isn’t easy, talking about things, trusting people⁠—  

(the temptation to take just a peek, just to be sure the spiders aren’t crawling over what’s his) 

⁠—but he knows it’s what’s keeping him anchored. Keeping him human, or as close to it as he can be, at least. If he doesn’t talk about what he’s experiencing⁠—how he feels, however horrifying and shameful⁠—he could lose himself without even realizing it. 

(How do you know you’re the same person who fell asleep?) 

If he doesn’t trust Martin⁠—

“I was worried, you know.” 

Martin stops in his tracks, so Jon stops too, turns to look at him. His percolating expression has been replaced by his determined expression; this generally means they are going to have A Conversation. Jon considers that maybe they could find somewhere a bit less...exposed, to sit and talk, but really, there’s nowhere that isn’t exposed these days.  

“Worried about what?” he asks. 

“When you told me we were coming to a Web domain. I was worried...well, you know you left a lot of tapes in your office before the Beholding? All the ones you made while you were away.”

“On the run for murder, you mean.” 

“Yeah, that. Well, I listened to them. While you were⁠—you know...”

“Dead,” Jon supplies, and Martin gives a sad little laugh. 

“Yeah. Sorry, funny that I still have trouble saying it, after⁠—after everything. Not like it’s the worst thing that’s happened to us!” His jovial bravado rings false, and Jon reaches for his hand. 

“It’s okay…” he begins, but Martin shakes his head. 

“No, please, let me⁠—I listened to your statement. About...about when you were a kid? And I was worried that⁠—well, you’ve found the others, haven’t you? The ones that’ve marked you.” 

“You thought we might find⁠ Mister Spider.” Even now it’s hard to say that name. Fear doesn’t feel the same to Jon as it once did, but the thick bile still rises in his throat, the instinctual shudder of nerves firing down his spine. 

“I mean, didn’t it occur to you?” 

“Yes...yes, of course it did.”

“Do you know why we didn’t?”

Jon frowns. He hasn’t thought about the why of it⁠—or rather, he didn’t want to think about it, about why their pilgrimage brought them through this particular manifestation of the Web, its hanging hooks and guiding strings and victims stepping time and again through the same dance of will against want and always, always failing. They were not moths fluttering purposeless into the spider’s strands; something brought them here. 

“It was a⁠—a reminder, I think. Of what I’ve done. What I chose to do.” Jon hears the unsteady note in his own voice and then Martin is grasping his arm. 

“Jon⁠,” he says,”Let’s just⁠—” He looks around as if there might be somewhere pleasant to sit (no comfortable chairs in the apocalypse) and then, with a huff, folds onto the bare, blasted earth, tugging Jon down with him. Jon sits with his knees hunched, Martin cross legged in front of him, giving him a worried frown.

“You didn’t choose any of this,” Martin tells him. “It was all Jonah. He tricked and manipulated and used you! I know it’s hard to believe, sometimes⁠—” 

“No, Martin, not⁠—not that.” Jon shakes his head. “I’m talking about b-before. I...well, you took the statement. You heard what I did to that woman, to the others I fed on.” The pit of his stomach feels, rather appropriately, like it’s filled with spiders, squirming and sick and heavy with self-disgust. 

“That was⁠—yeah, that was bad, Jon. But you didn’t know what it was doing to them, not really.”

“I knew enough! And I did it anyway, gave those poor people nightmares to last their whole lives.” Jon laughs. “Before I turned everyone’s lives into a nightmare, that is. I chose to do it, Martin. It felt good. And I latched onto the idea that the Web was⁠—was making me do it because I couldn’t take responsibility for my own actions. And now...now I have all the fear in the world pouring into me. I’m like a⁠—a whale shark, just swimming along with my mouth open, swallowing it all down. I don’t have to hurt anyone directly to feed. And I don’t know⁠—” 

Jon looks down at his hands, resting against his thighs. They are faintly gray with the dust that gets everywhere, ground into the seams of skin and scars. His nails are bitten to the quick, a bad habit his grandmother never managed to rid him of. Something horrible sits in the back of his throat, and he bites his tongue, not wanting to say it. 

Martin’s voice is very soft when he says:

“You don’t know what?” 

Jon sighs. The horrible thing crawls onto his tongue, and he lets it go.

“I don’t know if the only reason I’m not hurting people is because they’re feeding me anyway.” 

“Oh,” says Martin. Jon feels a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like a hook, and he can’t look up, picks at the ragged cuticle of his thumb instead. He wishes he had a cigarette.

“You tried to stop, though, didn’t you?” Martin’s hand appears in his line of sight, grasps hold of the hand he’s picking at⁠—the burned one⁠—and lifts it out of reach, cradling it between his own. Jon risks a glance at him. He looks...he just looks like Martin. 

“When the others made me, when you⁠—” When you found out, he doesn’t say.

“They couldn’t have made you stop. Not unless you wanted to.” 

“I⁠—I wanted to want to.” Jon swallows the hitch in his breath that threatens to turn into a sob; he’s already wallowing in self pity enough. 

“Then you wanted to,” says Martin firmly. “You wanted to stop, Jon, but you needed help. There’s no shame in that.”

“But what if⁠—”

“Forget about ‘what if’!” Martin tells him, squeezing his hand tight. “What if I’m being controlled by spiders? What if Gertrude was right and there’s nothing we can do about all this? There’s enough guilt and worry to go around without dragging hypotheticals into it!” 

“Martin⁠—”

“I love you, Jon. Okay? You are a good person, who I love, and we are both doing our bloody best in this⁠—this ludicrous situation, and frankly the Web can go and⁠ get fucked if it’s trying to tell you otherwise. All right?” 

Martin’s face is red with determination, and though his eyes are wet, his jaw is set like stone. Jon is overwhelmed once again by how much he loves this man, how that love fills up all the space behind his rib cage, and though the spiders in his stomach don’t vanish, their squirming lessens. He takes a deep breath, and nods. 

“I love you,” is all he can say for a moment. Martin smiles tightly. 

“I should hope so.”

They sit there quietly for a little while. It’s not exactly comfortable⁠—the ground is hard and cruel beneath them, the Eye overhead a constant oppression⁠—but it is comforting. Martin keeps holding Jon’s hand between his, tracing his fingers along the shiny ridges of scar tissue, up to brush over Jon’s own fingertips, a delicate connection between them. Eventually, Martin gives a long sigh, and draws Jon’s hand up to kiss the tips of his fingers, then his knuckles.

“Suppose we’d better get going. We don’t want to be late to the Panopticon, Jonah might fire us.” He tilts his head, thinking. “Are we still Institute employees, technically?” 

“I, ah, I think so, technically,” says Jon. “Though I imagine the pension scheme is rather out the door at this point.” He hefts himself to his feet, pulling Martin with him. Martin brushes down the backs of his trousers, as if it might get rid of the dust, such a perfectly human gesture that Jon can’t help smiling. 

“What?” Martin asks, suspicious. Jon shakes his head. 

“Nothing, you’re just...quite adorable.” 

“You’re the adorable one,” Martin mutters, as a pleased flush creeps across his cheeks. “Ready to go?” 

“Yes,” Jon hesitates a second. “Just, umm...Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“What you said, about the, uh, the spiders?”

“Oh,” Martin says. He gives a sharp little laugh, and there’s a catch in it like the first crack in a pane of glass, the kind that threatens to spider web out and shatter. 

“If you don’t want to talk about it⁠—”

“No, it’s⁠—it’s okay,” says Martin. “We can talk about it, but it’s...hypotheticals, like I said. No point worrying. We’ll just...be careful. I might not want you poking around in my head, but you can still keep an eye on me. With your actual eyes. And I’ll do the same for you. I’ll let you know if you get ominous, you let me know if I get...spidery.” He wiggles his fingers. 

“I promise to keep a close count on the number of limbs you have,” Jon says solemnly, and is pleased when that gets a much more genuine laugh from Martin. 

That temptation is still there, to look, to just be absolutely sure. He’d never even know, a thought murmurs in the back of Jon’s head, and it’s true. It’s true, and Jon squashes the idea without mercy. 

It’s not easy, talking about things. Trusting people. But if he doesn’t trust Martin, then he might as well give it all up right now and succumb to this world. He trusts Martin, and it’s both a choice, and a defiance of the fear that tries to tell him he shouldn’t. 

The Web can⁠—as Martin so eloquently put it⁠—get fucked.

“Right, let’s go,” he says, and takes Martin’s hand in his.   

[ahhhsami]

TLOU2 and the Stages of Grief

To begin, here’s a quick crash course into the 5 Stages of Grief. 

There are five stages of grief; Denial & Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Although these are the identified stages, they are not experienced the same for everyone. People experience them occurring in different orders, experience each stage to different degrees, and in some cases people don’t experience all of the stages. Often times people in real life experience these stages without full completion due to how quickly the world moves and the responsibilities that society has put on an individual. Throughout the whole process, our own feelings and thoughts of mortality is brought up. But there is a common thread in each of the stages and that is Hope. While you may have lost someone you are still alive and there is hope that you will continue to live, or in some cases just survive.

Now that we’ve covered some basics to the 5 Stages of Grief, let’s really get into it in regards to The Last of Us Part II. There will be spoilers ahead.

1. Denial & Isolation

The obvious trigger to this first stage for Ellie was the killing of Joel. We can see this particular event beginning the thoughts of “This can’t be happening.” Denial is a buffer, a protection mechanism against tragic events. This then moves onto the feeling of helplessness and a lack of hope. Often times this stage is shorter, a more immediate response to the loss. Ellie clearly experiences this stage quickly, this can be seen through the audio distortion as soon as Joel is killed. The stage has begun and continues to be present as the scene cuts to Ellie, Ellie who has isolated herself and who is clearly going through the stage of Denial & Isolation. It’s the first wave of pain.

2. Anger

This is the stage that Ellie stays in the longest. Denial & Isolation, as mentioned before, is a defense mechanism. This wears off though and what replaces it is the realization of what has occurred and pain. Absolute pain. We are vulnerable creatures and to protect ourselves we express ourselves in different ways. A very common way is Anger. Anger can be expressed in different ways and towards different people and objects. In Ellie’s case, the Anger is supposedly focused on Abby, the killer of Joel, and the people of WLF. But when we delve into it further, it’s not just about Abby and the WLF. Ellie expresses Anger at Joel, at her life and circumstances, and even herself. 

The reason for feeling anger isn’t always obvious. Her anger towards Abby is. This woman has taken someone that Ellie cares for. But when it comes to the other things that Ellie has anger towards, it’s not as obvious and definitely isn’t fleshed out or recognized unless you’ve completed the game. Ellie resents Joel to an extent. That is clear. It stems from him lying to her about the Hospital Incident from The Last of Us Part I. But it also comes from him leaving. Although it was out of his control, Joel is still gone. Resentment and anger can be rational and irrational, just like all of the other emotions and thoughts people have. Ellie also feels resentment towards herself. She continues to struggle with the fact that she was saved. That with giving up her own life, she may have been able to save humanity. That’s a lot for one person. But what makes this even harder to endure, is the fact that Joel made that choice for her. On top of all of this, it’s easy to be angry, and then feel more angry for feeling angry. It’s a vicious cycle that Ellie gets trapped in.

In the world of TLOU, this stage is the most prominent due to the circumstances. Anger allows someone to survive and that’s what the people of this world do. They don’t have the luxury to sit back and go through the Five Stages of Grief properly. Ellie has learned anger and survival from the very beginning and Joel just reiterates it. He cements it in TLOU when Henry and Sam die. Not everyone gets to see or hear this interaction, but here it is; Ellie “I want to talk about it.” Joel “No.” Ellie “Why not?” Joel “How many times do we need to go over this? Things happen. And we move on.” Ellie “It’s just-” Joel “That’s enough.” Ellie “Alright.” Survival does this to you. It suppresses normal feelings and thoughts to allow someone to survive. On top of this, Tommy prolongs this stage too. He’s also trapped within it, taking Ellie with him. 

Let us not forget the hopeful part of this stage though. Again each stage has the underlying fact that you are still alive. That although you have lost someone, you can still live. That hope begins in the presence of Dina. She is Ellie’s rock and someone who almost pulls her out of the stage of Anger, but unfortunately isn’t enough. Ellie is still grieving when she leaves JJ and Dina. She’s dealing with PTSD, depression, regret, anger, denial, and so much more all at once. She’s not living, she’s surviving. She’s putting her own family at risk. And although people would have loved for her to stay with Dina and JJ, she wouldn’t have been happy. She wouldn’t be living.

When Ellie does leave, she is still in the stage of Anger. It was clear that she had thought that she was past it, done with grieving, but with her reliving Joel’s death, she had not progressed through all of the Stages of Grief. This also brings to light the fact that you can also experience the stages more than once. By having an episode like this, it can restart stages such as Denial and Isolation. Grieving is not linear.

3. Bargaining

This stage is honestly one of the most interesting to me. Bargaining deals with the “If only” ideas and statements that people think of when grieving. For Ellie a big one I believe is “If only I had found him sooner.” You can see that from her flashbacks from her PTSD and depression. You can see it in her actions of trying to get revenge on Abby and the WLF. She continues to think and act on these “If only” and “What if” statements and questions. But not just about the specific moment that Joel is killed. She thinks about “What if Joel had let me die? Had let the Fireflies find a cure,” “What if I had stayed with Dina?,” “What if I hadn’t convinced Tommy to also get revenge?,” “If only we didn’t live in this type of world,” “If only I had been able to kill Abby when I had the chance.” 

Ellie is plagued by guilt throughout TLOU2. This stage can eat away at someone mentally. And it does for Ellie. Often times she experiences the Stage of Anger and the stage of Bargaining at the same time. But also experiences them separately. 

4. Depression

There are different types of depression and when it comes to grieving, there are two main types. One is related to more practical implications, like feeling sadness and regret for not spending time with others due to isolating oneself from the grief. It can also be linked with your worries, such as how are we going to bury them, what do we do with their belongings, or in Ellie’s case, how to get revenge. The second is more emotional and private. It’s based on inner feelings of sadness, helplessness, hopelessness, and guilt. 

This stage is something that Ellie suppresses. She pushes these feelings and thoughts down and instead it’s replaced with anger.

5. Acceptance

This is the stage that people may find the most controversial in regards to the game. Many people never reach this stage. Often stuck in Anger and Denial. When this does occur, that’s okay and that’s life, but in Ellie’s case, she does reach acceptance. 

Some people may expect acceptance to lead to instant happiness and moving on. But that is not the case. Acceptance is often marked by withdrawal and a sense of calm. Acceptance is coming to grips with what has happened, who you have lost, and also accepting your own mortality. It’s coming to the conclusion that “I’ve lost someone important, but I’m going to be able to survive, I’m going to be able to continue to live my life.” 

I truly believe that Ellie would not have been able to find acceptance if she had killed Abby. If she had, her own anger would have continued to consume her and she would never make it through the Stages of Grief that she had needed to. Ellie ended a cycle of being driven to only survive. She wasn’t living and that was clear. 

The way that I personally felt from the ending was withdrawn, but also calm, just like the stage of acceptance should feel. Ellie put down Joel’s guitar and left. She didn’t just accept his death, but all of the other things that she was struggling with inwardly and outwardly. A huge thing being the fact that she was kept alive by Joel. She didn’t just accept his death, she forgave him. She continued to live, finally fully grieving for the loss of Joel. She will continue to miss him, but the stages of Denial and Anger probably won’t be present again. She may feel sadness, but it won’t be to the same extent. She may think of those “what ifs,” but will then be able to counteract those thoughts rationally. 

Grief is complex and so was this story. To sum this all up, the writing in TLOU2 is human, it’s real, it’s tough, it’s uncomfortable, and not everyone will like it. If you do struggle with this story, try to be self-reflective. Try to be empathetic towards the people who have enjoyed it, to the writers, to the team of creators, and just to people in general. There’s a reason why TLOU2 makes people uncomfortable, just like The Last of Us Part I did.

[when-to-sit-in-silence]

Mama’s Boy

Rated: T Relationships: Lonnie Byers & Will Byers Characters: Will Byers, Lonnie Byers, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Mike Wheeler, Mentioned Joyce Byers Additional Tags: Post Season/Series 03, Emotional Manipulation, Abusive Parents, Past Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Confrontations, Homophobic Language, Lonnie Byers Being An Asshole

Summary: Will’s dad comes to visit the day after his birthday, and Will is right to have a bad feeling about it. But he’s not the same scared little kid he used to be.

Will’s dad is standing on the front stoop.

Wearing a pair of cheap sunglasses and grinding a half-smoked cigarette beneath the toe of his boot, Lonnie Byers reaches for the doorbell a second time, and with the curtains parted by the width of two fingers, Will stands there in the living room watching dumbstruck.

“Who is it?” he hears Mike call from the dining room as the house fills with another impatient chime. Will doesn’t respond. He can hardly believe his eyes. He figures the chances he’s only imagining his father there are too great to give an answer.

Lonnie tries to peer through the frosted glass on the front door, and when he doesn’t make anything out, he turns his gaze back out to the driveway, empty but for the unfamiliar sedan that must’ve been the rental he’d driven from – wherever cars can be rented around here. Will has serious doubts Lonnie put the hours into driving halfway across the country himself. Running his tobacco-stained fingers through his hair, Lonnie’s shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. He throws one final glance at the door before he starts to descend the concrete steps.

A sudden surge of panic shoots through Will’s chest, the reality of the moment finally striking him like a hammer. He abandons the curtains for the front door and turns the lock.

“Dad?” he says as he very nearly tears the thing off its hinges trying to get it open before Lonnie reaches the car. Pausing in the middle of the lawn, Lonnie spins back around. Behind his dark glasses, he sizes Will up in the door frame, and the corner of his lip lifts into smirk.

“Holy shit,” Lonnie exclaims. “Look at you, huh? Finally hit that growth spurt.”

Immediately, there is that feeling of being seen Will had gone so long without sensing, a feeling he could only attribute to the beady, watchful stare of his father growing up, a signal for the muttered comment he would make under his breath in the seconds to follow. Will would feel like all his skin had been stripped away, like he stood there exposed to the elements without his body’s most basic line of defense against the world pulsing and living all around him. He resists the urge to squirm, attempting to harden his exterior with the mindful elevation of his chin. “What are you doing here?”

Lonnie laughs like it’s obvious. “What do you think, son?” He pulls something out of his back pocket, a green envelope marked with his name in permanent marker. “Figure I’d surprise you for your birthday.”

“My birthday was yesterday,” Will replies, unimpressed.

“Come on, kid, I know that. Didn’t want to intrude on any plans you had.” Lonnie returns to the front stoop and hands Will the envelope. He stares at it, uninterested in what’s inside while his mind scrambles to come up with some sort of response to the absurdity of the situation. His dad, Lonnie Byers, showing up unannounced to their new house two thousand miles away to hand him a birthday card without so much as a phone call since 1983. Will might laugh if he wasn’t so uneasy.

All he says is, “Thanks.”

“Your brother home?” asks Lonnie, looking over Will’s shoulder into the house.

“He’s working.”

“And your mom?”

“Same.” Will actually isn’t sure where his mother is. Joyce had left pretty suddenly that morning before dawn, waking Will and El briefly to tell them everything was fine; she was just going on a trip for a few days and would be back before the next weekend. When Will had gotten out of bed that morning and realized he hadn’t dreamt that moment, Jonathan mentioned something about Murray Bauman, that journalist guy who’d shown up last summer to help them close the gate beneath Starcourt Mall. All of them had been chewing on some pretty troublesome questions the last several hours – but Lonnie doesn’t need to know any of that.  Honestly, the sooner he thinks Joyce will be back, the better this whole situation might turn out.

Lonnie removes his sunglasses and hangs him off the neckline of his t-shirt. “Yeah, thought so. Alright, then.” He gestures to the house. “You gonna show me around the place?”

“Oh – uh, yeah, I – I guess.” Will can’t get over how weird this feels. Momentarily, he forgets how to operate his legs before stepping aside to let Lonnie through the door. “Come in.”

That same naked feeling Will has when his father stares at him, he gets as Lonnie sweeps his gaze around the front entryway and adjoining living room. He surely recognizes a lot of the same furniture they’ve always owned, notes that the place has a staircase leading to a second story but really doesn’t look that much bigger than the old house back in Hawkins. It isn’t nice. Will can admit that, but it never bothered him until Lonnie set his eyes on it for himself. All the sudden, he wishes the place was spotless, shiny and elegant like everything his family isn’t. And then he hates himself for wanting that.

Lonnie’s eyes land on a photograph hanging above the sofa for an especially long pair of seconds. It’s just a portrait of Will, Jonathan, and Joyce taken at his middle school graduation last year, but Will holds his breath waiting for Lonnie to look away.

“So, it’s the three of you here?” he says, walking over to adjust an old hand-made throw blanket draped across the arm of the sofa. “Certainly looks like you’ve made yourselves at home.”

“Well, it’s been almost six months,” murmurs Will.

“You like it here?”

“Yeah,” he lies.

“Jonathan like it here?”

“Yeah.” That’s not a lie. Probably not, anyway. Jonathan seems to like it the most out of any of them, but then again, that really isn’t saying much.

Lonnie’s about to ask another question when a voice calls out from the other room. “Who’s there, Will?”

A moment later, Mike and El appear, both pausing as soon as they see Lonnie sifting through the magazines and newspapers fanned out across the coffee table.

“Oh, Will,” Lonnie says, eyes shifting between the newcomers, “You didn’t tell me I was intruding on something. I didn’t know you had friends over.”

“I mean – no, no, you’re not – no,” Will stammers. He puts himself between his father and his friends, flicking his index finger back and forth. “They’re just – they’re just here.”

Lonnie blinks at his son. “You gonna introduce me?”

“Right. Right. Uh, guys,” he says to Mike and El. “This is my Dad. Lonnie. Mr. Byers. Whatever. And, Dad, this is Mike. He’s visiting from Hawkins for Spring Break. And that’s – that’s –” Will flounders to decide which name to give. Teachers and most other adults have gotten to know Eleven as Jane Hopper, but she tends to introduce herself by her nickname. As he stands there stuttering, it occurs to him El’s is a complicated story that might be best kept hidden.

Read the Rest on Ao3

[harry-sussex]

I have sent this statement to one of the Harry fan blogs claiming that "His family was going to stand by and let his pregnant wife kill herself." This was one of the narratives resulting from the Oprah interview that I really hate. I'm also particularly disappointed that the memoir could possibly result in this narrative being perpetuated further.

Didn't Harry say he didn't tell his family about Meghan's suicidal tendencies? He said in the Oprah interview that he was too ashamed to admit it. So how can his family stand by and let his pregnant wife kill herself when the same family wasn't even informed that Meghan was taking all the criticisms that badly in the first place? I blame the BRF in particular for failing to rally behind Meghan. Little things would have count - an engagement here and there, reports on a jewel from the vault gifted to her or something. Anything to show that she has been embraced fully and has their backing in this criticism barrage from the press. But it's not as if they were told that "Hey, Meghan wants to kill herself" and they replied with "Oh, good to know".

What Harry did to remove his family from the toxicity in the UK (which apparently followed them even to the US) is admirable (although I don't agree with how he went about it) but it's not enough to put him on a pedestal and blame everything on everyone else but him. He knew his wife was taking things badly, couldn't he have sought help from other relatives he trusted? I know Charles and William are probably out of the equation but what about the Queen, Eugenie, his Spencer aunts, Earl Spencer? Harry was influential in the UK as well and there was so much more he could have done other than hugging his wife and letting her cry her eyes out. He has admirably defied royal protocol in defense of Meghan but we have to believe that he couldn't have defied them at the time when she needed it the most to get help for her? To use the words of my favorite baby niece, "get real".

That notion really is disgusting, and I hate that people think it's true. Harry said himself that he was TOO ASHAMED to ask for help for Meghan. There's a lot of context to that phrase that is missing and that I can't be bothered to look up but he did say that, more or less word for word. I took 7 pages of notes when the interview aired. That's what he said. These people are not monsters nor television villains. That's a complete bastardization of what's actually been said to have occurred and they can't do that when they cry every time someone does that to Harry and Meghan. That's horrible. Absolutely horrible.

They told us, too, that the infrastructure of the palace did nothing. While that may very well be true (and disgusting, if it is), the family is not the institution. The family is the boss, sure, but you're telling me that the Queen of the United Kingdom does employee reviews and checks their emails and has that much of a grasp on what's going on? No way, and nor should she. Meghan deserved the help - everyone deserves help - and it's so, so horrible that she didn't get it. I don't know if the infrastructure of the institution could have gotten her the help she needed, but I can one think of one major person who could have, the one whose priority it should have been to do so, and didn't, because he was ashamed, even though he went and got it for himself not three years earlier.

Imagine if she did get that help? What could have been? She'd have been so much happier, so much healthier, could have basked in the joy of her first pregnancy, maybe learned to let the press bullshit roll right off her shoulders. Harry would have finally chilled out and he probably wouldn't be as traumatized as he clearly is now. They could have been at peace much, much sooner - like they both deserve.

And, on a much shallower note, would they have left? My money's on no.

The family needed to do more, and I've always argued that the small things carry much heavier weight than the grand sweeping gestures that some expect. Engagements, jewelry loans, polo matches are much bigger than statements chomping at the bit to go after every single bad article or rumor floating around. I'd have like to have seen more of HM's earrings, for example. Charles and Meghan, Camilla and Meghan, Kate and Meghan engagements. Inviting Meghan to do things privately so it'd leak to the press, because it usually does. Harry and William playing polo while their wives and the gaggle of kiddos sit, chat, and play. Coming out swinging is simply not an option in an institution that is bound to the public and forced to cooperate with the media. Harry, of all people, should know that - but he doesn't. He never learned it. There were things that would have worked for both sides that could have been done to show their support and imo it was not done enough, which is a large part of why they left. Meghan deserved better.

I think he could have consulted anyone, really. When I needed help I certainly didn't call my mom, dad, sister, cousins, aunts and uncles... I googled providers until I found one that I liked, and went with that strategy until one stuck. Granted, I know Prince Harry can't just hire any old random on the internet. But he had a therapist and we know for a fact that he was getting some kind of help. They must have been vetted and proven themselves to work with discretion. You're telling me that they had no recommendations? That the only avenue was to ask a 95 year old woman, her 72 year old son, and the company they essentially work for for help for your suicidal, pregnant wife? Or was it that Harry didn't even do the basic level of research that he could and should have done? Used his connections to do what he had to do for his wife who he dragged into this mess to begin with, clearly without preparing her for what it was really like?

I don't think it's right that the institution didn't have the infrastructure or was otherwise unwilling to help but that's a problem to address after every other alternate avenue was pursued to go get it for her. Then they could have made heads roll within the institution if they wanted. The no. 1 priority should have been getting the help at whatever cost and deal with the bullshit later. Instead, he tried one single avenue, got stuck, and got ashamed, and let it fester until they clawed their way out. I cannot and will not understand how it just... stopped after that first roadblock. You keep going until you find something and then you deal with everything after. The priority should have been the help, not the revenge. And I will never understand why Harry, who very clearly loves his wife more than anything and everything, didn't make sure that happened. I will never understand it.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Forsaken | Part 2

Summary: As one of the Forsaken, Jinyoung had no right to covet anything as his own. When he stumbles across you standing in the middle of the village he had plundered, the memories of old make him risk it all, clutching at the past in hopes for a better future.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: warrior au / star crossed lovers / angst / romance

Warnings: death, kidnapping, cursing, a myriad of emotions - this is a really sad love story.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 

You could feel the tremble within the arm across your neck, his gaze penetrating to your soul.

How you had craved to see these eyes for years. They had always carried a hardness within them even when they were young, having seen too much of this cruel world. You could tell they had since witnessed far more than you ever wished to know about, even if you were curious now.

Just how was he alive?

The darkness within his eyes swirled and you gasped a little, acknowledging the fear and remorse now showing. Why was he scared of you? Before you could examine him further, the man stepped back, shaking his head softly. “You don’t know me.”

“Jinyoung,” you managed to say just louder than a whisper and watched the shiver run its course throughout him. It gave you the courage you needed to say it louder, repeating his name until he turned and looked at you again.

He had been a scared little boy back then when you had first met him too.

He laughed hollowly. “You never change.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Why did you spare me?” he questioned with a bitter tone, shaking his head as if he was trying to remove memories with the notion. “You should have told the authorities there was one of the Forsaken within your community sooner.”

“Why, so you could be an actual ghost to me right now like I thought you were?” you concluded and the man merely shrugged his shoulders. You stepped closer to him, reaching up for his neck. There laid a faint scar, your index finger tracing it slowly. It was as if your touch turned him to stone, and as you looked up into his frozen expression, you checked to see if his nostrils were flaring in and out with his breath. You sighed.

“Why did I spare you?” you murmured, thinking back to a time in which you had often thought over.

Your steps were hastened, your skirt held up with one hand as you gripped at the hand of another, dragging Jinyoung behind you. He followed you sluggishly and you yanked on him harder, wondering how he could be so slow at a time like this.

“Jinyoung!” you hissed, tugging on him. His eyes fell to your action, smiling softly at your hand in his. You groaned at his lack of urgency and ducked down another alleyway between the houses, knowing an adult couldn’t fit down such a gap. Moving until you were at the back of it and out of sight, you breathed heavily, peering around Jinyoung for signs of the soldiers.

“You should have let me be caught,” he murmured and you gaped at the boy beside you, completely calm unlike you. His eyes bore into yours. “Protecting me is dangerous.”

“You’re my friend and I’ll do as I please,” you told him firmly, blinking with the sudden burst of light filling his entire face. Even with his big ears and short hair, Jinyoung was boyishly handsome when he smiled like this. He radiated a light unlike any you had seen from a mere smile. It reached into his eyes, softening them from their usual hardness. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“You like being my friend?” you asked softly and Jinyoung nodded.

“I’m yours.”

“Hey! That makes you sound like a possession. I don’t own you.”

“Yes you do,” he replied, pulling your still linked hands up to show you. His grip tightened on your hand. “You took me as your own and gave me a name.”

“You silly boy,” you chided despite the swell in your chest. You liked that he was your friend. No one else knew of him yet as you had been hiding him for the past month in the barn out the back of your family farm. Jinyoung had easily become the most important person in your life. You knew if you didn’t look after him, he would be forgotten about once again.

You couldn’t let the authorities take away someone so special.

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” he told you bashfully, ducking his head away from your startled expression.

“And you’re trouble, Jinyoung. One day you’re going to leave my heart aching, I just know it.”

You clutched at your chest, the ache you often felt towards his departure from your world now conflicted with his reappearance. He had changed so much, adapted to a harsh way of living that you couldn’t fathom. Your shock was wearing off; overwhelmed by everything that had occurred to you during this nightmare.

He had saved you and yet he had killed all that you knew. It wasn’t the first time you would lose the ones you cherished because of Jinyoung, though this time it was by his own sinful hands. You stared at his limbs, wondering just how much blood he had washed away from them over the years.

You were momentarily disgusted and took a step back. “You’re right, I don’t know you now.”

Jinyoung watched you silently, his brain calculating something to say. Instead, he was cut off by the bell in the corner of the room chiming. He sighed and nodded. “Stay here; I might be gone for some time.”

“What makes you think I will listen to you?”

“Because if you leave this room, the others in this camp are trained to kill strangers immediately on sight.” He examined your expression for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. “Then again, do as you please. I don’t know why I brought you here anyway.”

“Answer me one thing,” you pleaded as Jinyoung moved to the door. Whilst he didn’t look back at you, he didn’t depart the room either. You swallowed, licking at your dry lips before speaking once again. “Can I trust you?”

“I can’t even trust myself,” Jinyoung honestly admitted, and left the room swiftly, shutting the door firmly behind him. You listened for him to lock it, to ensure you remained entrapped in this strange place.

However, his footsteps grew faint until they were unheard of and you dashed towards the door, reaching for the latch. Stopping midway with the uncertainty of what waited for you beyond these walls, your hand fell back to your side and you slowly made your way back to the bed, curling up against the wall.

You felt exhausted from trying to navigate the multitude of emotions within you, soon drifting off to sleep once more.

“Jinyoung!” you cried as he splashed the water from the lake at you, earning a squeal from you in protest. His hearty chuckle made your arms drop away from their defensive barrier, staring at his mischievous expression in awe. It had taken him three years to open up, to feel free enough just to live. Now as teenagers, you enjoyed a prolonged youth despite the adult world impending on you both. Of course, your naïve approach of keeping him to yourself hadn’t lasted very long, your parents had discovered him and sympathised enough to take him in. From there, your small community had gained knowledge of the boy and he was protected by everyone. It meant Jinyoung was finally safe and had a place where he belonged.

Hearing him laugh like this made you believe that all those years of being cautious on his behalf were long forgotten. You could dream of a future with him.

You could experience your first love as well.

Another splash of water came your way and you shrieked, dashing across towards the shore. His arms encased you before you could escape, dragging you back into him, into the water.

It was him boldly taking you places now.

“Where are you going?” he asked breathlessly and you spun around, staring up at him until you smiled.

“Nowhere.”

The humour in his expression eased and he brushed the hair away from your face. “You know I will follow you even to nowhere, right?”

“Of course, you’re mine.”

“Mm,” he hummed, a satisfied smile tugging his plump lips up. “I’m yours.”

He was too close and didn’t expect your eyes to open and find him there when you did. Blinking rapidly, Jinyoung went to move back but you held onto his hand, preventing his departure. You scrutinised his appearance, searching for the boy you had just dreamed of. The boyish charm was replaced with something harder to read. There was no doubt in your mind that you were still attractive to the Jinyoung who stared back at you, scars and all.

Your stomach twisted when you acknowledged the man before you still owned a part of your heart.

He merely stared back at you, unmoving, and yet his eyes were telling a tale of another lifetime. There was a warmth that seemed as bright as the summer of love you had relished in before the harsh winter that crippled you with loss. You gripped on more tightly, wishing to go back to that time.

Hoping for another reality other than this.

“Will you still follow me to nowhere?” you breathed, the man before you swallowing visibly. He toiled back and forth with his emotions openly before squaring his jaw. This world had conditioned him to believe in nothing that possessed hope and magic. Jinyoung chuckled but it wasn’t as joyful as you remembered.

“Y/N, nowhere doesn’t exist.”

“Yes it does,” you persisted and he frowned. “Nowhere exists, Jinyoung. I’ll find it.”

“We’re not kids anymore, stop thinking like that.”

“You didn’t answer, would follow me to nowhere?”

A faint purse of his lips made you hold your breath, searching for a glimmer of the past you held onto so dearly. It didn’t last long and he pulled away from your hand, standing up from his seat on the bed beside you. “This is where I belong.”

“Is this where I belong too?”

“This world isn’t for someone like you.”

“Yet you brought me into it,” you bit back and Jinyoung nodded.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“A bout of insanity,” he answered though it wasn’t convincing. You could see with the way he regarded you he hadn’t saved you just for fun.

He had seen you there and couldn’t let you leave this world before him.

“Are you sane now?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I forgot your persistence.”

“Have you missed it?”

“What are you fishing for, Y/N? A love confession? A sign that the boy who followed you around like a lost puppy is back? Don’t kid yourself. I simply returned a favour.”

“A favour?” you echoed with a scoff, your anger rising. “If you truly felt the need to repay me, you should have killed me right there and then. Let me burn with all the others you murdered that day. This is how you repay me? I’ve lost everything I had twice now because of you.”

Jinyoung’s brows knitted together briefly before he smoothed his expression back to the stern, uncaring one he was trying to maintain. It made you roll your eyes, he was pathetic and nothing like the boy you once knew.

You were foolish for even giving him space in your mind all these years.

“I wish you had remained dead to me,” you announced, gathering yourself up from the bed and storming towards the door. As you headed down the small earthen corridor towards the exit, you were surprised not to hear him follow you, or to even stop you from leaving. You started to silently cry as you opened one of the doors you had once blindly came through, scolding yourself for considering you meant anything to the man back in that room. Why had he gone to all the trouble of bringing you here if he couldn’t admit to a plausible reason?

He clearly had gone mad from his years as a member of the Rebellion and you wanted nothing to do with him. You’d rather face death by the members of his camp, to leave this wretched world behind. You had no family left, no friends, no value. There was no need to survive as you had thus far. You had been determined to live on in hopes you could live a life worthy of the one you thought he had lost back then.

Stepping out into the dusk of the night, you were uncaring of your efforts. He had thrived in the dampest, darkest of places all this time, and you had been none the wiser.

Jinyoung could live on now without you.

You broke into a run, heading towards the tree line beyond the settlement. It felt good to feel the burn within your lungs from the physical activity, the sting in your weakened limbs as you urged them to power on. It was cathartic to escape everything. The loss, the yearning, the pain. You needed to break away from it all.

However, your blind dash away meant you weren’t paying attention to the world around you until it was too late. You saw another person within the woods, their hand unmistakably reaching for a bow from upon their back.

So, you would actually die then. Waiting for the impact, you felt a rush of air by your ear and then your body was hurtled into another direction, pressed against a tree protectively.

You glanced up at the man now encasing you away from further attack, his heavy breath falling onto your face. Jinyoung’s eyes connected with yours desperately. “I’ll follow you to nowhere.”

He sucked in a deep breath to steady himself, however his gaze remained determined. “So don’t try and leave me yet.”

_________________

Part 3

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[sourbat]

“do you want me to give you advice or do you just want me to listen?” magtok or ship if your choice

This got a little self-indulgent. 

and yes, it’s magtok

After their shared meeting, the psychiatrist requested that Toki leave, and Magnus stay behind for a little while longer. Neither had any reason to believe the news was bad, but when Magnus does leave the small office some five minutes later, looking a little worse for wear, Toki assumes some misgiving had occurred. Bad news? Failure to meet certain goal posts?  An increase in dosage?

After a few handshakes, the required talks with the nurse scheduling the next appointment, it’s a quiet ride down the elevator, with Magnus reading the overview of his meeting in absolute silence. Toki clicks his tongue against his teeth, testing the tone and Magnus’ overall mood. The older man never voices a single complaint the ride down, and continues keeping to himself the walk to the car.

Toki refuses for the ride home to be silent, and immediately snuffs any chance of Magnus spending the next several minutes driving and moping in silence. The keys go into the ignition, and Toki stops him and asks if there is anything he can do to help Magnus. He makes sure not to guess the source of the problem, point a finger or ask any additional questions.

The question hangs above their heads. Toki waits for Magnus’ response, mentally preparing himself for the worse, only to have Magnus drop the keys he had readied for the ignition, and quietly announces that his psychiatrist wants him to consider dropping the mood suppressants.

“She wants you off the suppresscants?” Toki says aloud, taking in the news one word at a time. He falls into the passenger seat, eyes agape and staring out towards the parking lot.

“Yeah.” Magnus squeezes the keys in his hand. “Since my dosage is already so low, she wants me to–”    

“Oh, Magnus, this ams such great news!” Toki reaches over to Magnus’ side, pulling him into an awkward, but loving embrace. He rubs his face against a tuft of brown waves, smiling at the tickle.

Toki waited for this day. Magnus worked so hard trying to get better. They’d been to so many sessions. Even on the best of days, Toki knows Magnus didn’t look forward to the trips. He could be in a good mood going in, but the sessions always prove to be stressful, cathartic to the point of it being emotionally overwhelming at times. It isn’t easy.

Manus wriggles underneath him. “You’re really excited about this?”

“Yeps!” Toki happily announces. “You gets to get offs another medicines!”

Satisfied, Toki relinquishes his hold on Magnus and drops back to his seat, but not before picking up the stapled, folded sheets detailing the information of their recent visit. He flips through the pages, stopping at the second to the last where he reads the summary and doctor’s suggestion. There it is, clear as day. The good news. Drop the suppressants to see if Magnus can rely solely on learned techniques and his own hindsight to keep himself in check. It’s real. This is real. It has been such a long time coming, but it’s finally here.

And isn't this one of the pills Magnus couldn’t mix with alcohol? Toki’s eyes glisten with excitement and possibilities. He thinks of the new and old activities he can reintroduce to Magnus, once he is clear, cleansed of this old prescription and off the blasted pills. They can go out and drink more, and Magnus can get drunk again! Maybe Magnus can take other things, too, and Toki wouldn’t have to worry about it getting in the way of decision making, Magnus making rash decisions, or Magnus going from one extreme to the-

Toki notices how quiet it’s gotten, and when he turns and checks on Magnus, sees that he is still fiddling with the keys. His eyes shift between the collective sheets in Toki’s hands, and the many keys and chains he entangles with his busy hands.

“Ims there something wrongs?” Toki asks, not quite catching on to Magnus’ silence. 

A frown. “Nothing,” he answers, still eyeing the keys. “Just…didn’t think you’d get so excited.”

Toki folds the sheets messily on top one another. “You ams getting off the medicaskons. Beens a long times since that happens.”

It’s been over a year since dropping another medication. Toki remembers it clear as day. Like now, Toki had been just as excited, but so had Magnus. They’d both been so relieved to know there was one less thing holding Magnus together.

Why isn’t Magnus happy right now?

Toki’s hand crushes the sheets. “Magnus?”

Magnus grips the wheel. “Toki, I don’t think I–”

The leather groans under his hold. Toki grits his teeth against the sound. A nasty weight piles in his stomach the second Magnus tears away from the window to meet him.

His stare lets Toki know it’s dread.

“I don’t think I want to get off the suppressants,” Magnus announces, voice unwavering, but it’s clear he’s upset. Toki can hear the sharp cadence, the hidden snap that was already gathering on the defense.  “I… don’t want to stop taking them.”

Toki’s silent. He stares at Magnus, watches his expression turn from nervous to dejected at what Toki assumes is his own disappointed expression. Toki can feel it reach into every fiber of his being. The shock. The sudden turn of events. He must look so surprised, he thinks, but can’t bring himself to check in the mirror. He can’t even get himself to look away from Magnus who keeps eyeing him, waiting for a change, a smile, a supportive line. Anything.

Toki’s head fills with questions. He tries reaching for one, the most obvious “but why nots,” but as he parts his lips, Magnus jerks in seat.

“Like, I know you’re really excited” he says, voice picking up volume and a distinct uncontrolled shakiness. Magnus smiles when he says it, too, though Toki can detect its inauthenticity the second Magnus tries offering it to him. “I was, too. But then she kept talking about the cleansing period, and the initial swings, and I don’t know, man.”

Magnus hands leave the wheel and start swinging, moving with frantic words and expressions that carve deep into Toki. He sees Magnus shake, go pale as he fights to defend a decision Toki cannot comprehend. The fake smile leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“I know it’s been a while, and I know I see it all through black and white, but I don’t want to say or do anything like I remember,” Magnus says through the silent strain. Toki blinks, witnessing past acts of blind or misdirected rage. He sees Magnus hiding under the covers for days, only leaving to use the restroom or rehydrate. He watches Magnus right now, shaking his head at himself, disbelieving his own strength. “I don’t want to snap at people. I don’t want to feel like I’m choking on my own thoughts.”

There’s anger sitting at the edge of every word. Toki hears it lingering, feels its weight settle around him, but never aimed directly at him.

Magnus coughs false laughter. “Am I overreacting? You think I’m overreacting, don’t you?” He points a finger at himself.  “I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m being stupid, making this more than what it has to be…”

He falls into his seat, hands dragging across his face. Fingers get caught in his hair, curl and writhe and purposely get tangled. Toki stops it with a hand resting on top of Magnus' leg. The simple gesture is enough for Magnus to fix himself up, though avoids looking in Toki’s direction until he’s able to tolerate his own reflection in the rearview. 

“I’m over-fucking-thinking it, again.” He sighs. Toki squeezes Magnus’ thigh, calling for his attention. It takes a few seconds for Magnus to relax, for shoulder ease into place and frown shift into a defeated grin, before he finally secedes. He stares solemnly at Toki. “I need to stop doing that. I really should’ve just asked you from the start, huh?”

The hand shifts from the thigh to Magnus’ hand. 

Toki peers close. “Do you wants me to gives you advice or does you just wants me to listen?” 

There’s a pin that burrows into his chest when he utters it, because he knows it’s far from what he wants to tell Magnus. But it’s what the man needs to hear, and once it's out there, Toki sees Magnus’ chest heave, and eyes go dark before being covered with his sleeve.

“…I don’t want to be angry all the time,” Magnus confesses. The answer doesn’t immediately surprise Toki, but the fear riddled in Magnus’ eyes, the dread in his voice keeps Toki alert and listening. “I don’t want to feel like I need to look over my shoulder. I don’t want to hurt you. I know you think I won’t, but I can’t shake this feeling I’ll do something awful if I don’t keep myself in check. I know you trust me, but I don’t know if I’m quite there yet, with you. You trust me, but… I’ve done it to you on meds, and now she wants me off of them? What if say something I can’t take back?” 

The pin pushes further inward. It hurts because all Toki can hear is how much Magnus thinks about him, how considerate he’s trying to be. It’s so sweet. How nice of him, but he was being so mean to himself in the process. That also hurt, because Toki knows Magnus is better than he thinks. He’s stronger than he gives himself credit for. And it hurts the most because it means the day hasn’t yet arrived, and Toki is going to have to wait a little longer for it to come.

“Okays.”

“What?” 

Toki pulls in his lips, fighting past a sigh as he fishes for the right words. They come sooner than predicted, and with them, a gentle warmth. Acceptance. “If you don’t think you ams ready, then you ams not ready. I trusts you. And when you ams, we can celebrates then, okays?”

There’s a smile near the end, and when it forms, the pain lessens. Toki feels it spread across his face, and with it the sense that he still needs to reel Magnus back to him. 

He goes for the shoulder. “You okays?”

A despondent frown. “You’re not upset?”

There’s no point in lying to Magnus, not after being so blatantly disappointed after hearing the news. He can handle the truth, Toki thinks, and the more he dwells on it, the more Toki realizes it’s better they both hear.

“I knows I was exciteds about you drinkins and havins fun with me, but we does that anyways,” Toki starts cautiously, and watches as Magnus gives a short, but confirming nod. He tucks his hands between his legs. “And you said you don’t trusts yourskelves, so…Toki will just have to works on that. Helps out my bestest friend believes in himself more.”

He looks up hopefully at Magnus. Toki unbuckles his seatbelt, leaves his seat and takes Magnus into an embrace.

“This ams your therapy,” he says, and feels Magnus’ arms fold around him. “You gets to decides when you ams ready, not me.”

Magnus shuts his eyes. A sharp intake of breath. “Thank you.”

The words hit just right, because once Toki hears it, the pain starts to vanish. They remain that way for some time, with Magnus selfishly pulling Toki as close as their limited space will allow, and Toki listening in on the occasional sniff, the skip of a rapid heartbeat desperately working to convince itself this wasn’t a failure, but something else.

Eventually, the discomfort of his potion forces Toki to part with Magnus sooner than preferred. He catches a relieved sigh once he does, but notices Magnus wiping his face once he does return to his seat. The man hasn’t quite recovered yet.

Toki spots the keys resting between Magnus’ legs. He swallows.

“Wants me to drive?”

Eyes still closed, Magnus stubbornly shakes his head. “You hate driving.”

Toki openly challenges the remark with a slight drop of his voice. “Do you wants me to drive us homes?” 

The steering wheel groans, and Magnus’s head sinks against the growing silence. 

Eyes open, and tears fall. “Yeah…”

Smiling, Toki reaches for the keys.