#i desperately need to have a lengthy conversation about this guy i have so many thoughts

[belleski]

love characters that are so messed up and pathetic and loser-core and will cause the downfall of the multiverse and have narrative parrallels to the protagonists and will cannonically kill and- [image description] A digital illustration of the spot from across the spiderverse. He resembles a black humaniod silohette with a painterly texture - with multiple arms and heads branching off from the main body - and spiralling white spots on various points of his body. The main silohette is surrounded by a distressed white outline which stands out against the black circular void that takes up most of the background. The rest of the background is a distorted, spiraling blur of dark greens, blues and bright pinkish reds that circle the central spot. [end id]

[traumacatholic]

Finally kind of feel in a position where I can post this. I realise that my last post and long disappearance was probably of great concern to some people, and I am deeply sorry for any worry or pain that I've caused other people with that long disappearance. There was a lot going on in my life, including moving house. And I think the longer I took a break from Tumblr, the more daunting it came to come back. But the fact of the matter is, I've cried over this blog a lot. Or rather, I've cried over the followers of this blog and the people that have engaged with it. I have been dealing with a great sense of guilt. Guilt that I've let you guys down. Guilt that I've betrayed you in some way.

Something that always pained me, was the reality of my own struggle to access mental health support. It's an unfortunate reality, that no matter how many times we might work to raise awareness, and tackle stigma surrounding mental health (particularly complex mental health issues like OCD or PTSD or Schizophrenia, etc). That this doesn't do much to tackle the core issue that's the main struggle for people: accessible healthcare. Be that to do with any financial costs or lengthy waiting lists or other issues. There was a sense of deep guilt of encouraging people to seek help, whilst also being fully aware that they might be even more disheartened if they reached out for help and were unable to get anything substantial. I would never want to build someone's hopes up in order to then shatter them. I've experienced it all too much with trying to access support on my own.

I also felt really guilty running this blog when I was struggling with Church attendance. It felt like I was lying about my piety, to people that were desperately trying to fight to be able to attend their Church and to be a part of Church life. I'm in a city now, and I've started attending Church regularly. I've been trying to get into the practice of daily prayer, and the daily readings of theological texts alongside Scripture. Some days are better than others, but then I guess that's always going to be the case. Something that was really deeply meaningful to me during RCIA was being told that conversion to the faith wasn't a one and done thing. Each day, we are constantly converting back. We are constantly returning to God and being renewed in our relationship with God, no matter how far we stumble or what kind of problems we stumble into - willing and unwillingly.

And this is where it gets, I guess, the scariest. I've been dealing a lot with anxieties and doubts surrounding my faith. Not in the, "Hey guys sorry I've taken a break and became atheist" kind of way. But I've been feeling a strong pull towards Orthodox Christianity. And the Church I've been attending, has been an Orthodox one. I don't know. It feels weird to type that one out. It felt so weird to call myself Catholic for a long time. And then I became so happy of the title, and I loved the faith. I still do, love Catholicism. But I think this is something I need to explore. I've been feeling the draw to Orthodoxy for a long time, and I always kept pushing it away. But I think the only real way I can really address it, is by actually giving it a fair chance and exploration.

I don't know what I'll do with this blog. I don't intend to delete it - I think there are still people that can find help and comfort from the prayers that I've posted. I do have a new Tumblr, where I post excerpts from Orthodox texts I've been reading. I do still feel really strongly about helping people struggling with mental and physical health issues, trauma survivors etc. I care intensely about that work. And it's why this post pains me so much. I still want to be able to give you guys help, you can always send a message over to my new blog @orthodoxadventure if you're in need of any prayers or advice surrounding mental health/trauma etc (also despite the circumstances, I did go through RCIA, and if anyone has any questions surrounding it, I'll try my best to answer) , and I think I'm going to make it a habit to check the blog here.

I'm deeply sorry to anyone that I've hurt by doing this. I would really appreciate your prayers. None of this is, particularly easy. I feel like I've let down and hurt so many people. But I also knew that the more I tried to resist the interest of Orthodoxy, the more I felt that I was letting myself down and letting my relationship with God down. Maybe in some time, I will return to Catholicism, much more content and happy and more knowledgeable in that choice. Maybe I will go further down the path to the Orthodox Church. But I knew I couldn't just feel like I was sitting on the fence any longer. I hope that you will be able to forgive me for this, and I intend to keep you all in my prayers.

[spencerreidsconverse]

When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

��We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”.  You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

[littlemissnoname13]

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader) - Part three

Summary: Draco and Y/n find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every single night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: excessive smoking, mature language and themes, smut, oral (male receiving ), 18+ content, reader discretion is advised.

A/n: two more parts to go and the story is done!!!

once again, thank you to everyone that read part one and two and asked to be tagged. I love you guys.

I’d like to stress that smoking is injurious to health. (*lights up another cigarette and types furiously*) This part is a bit lengthy so bare with me.

Word count: 4000

Part 1 & Part 2 (if you haven’t read them already)

Thursday (Continued)

Was he dreaming? 

No, he definitely was dreaming. 

How else could he explain this recurring dream, fantasy, vision—call it what you want. 

You, down on your knees in front of him, pushing his knees apart and palming him through his trousers. 

You, fumbling with his belt buckle and slowly unzipping him, letting him spring free. 

What had he done in this life to deserve this?—to deserve you and your full red lips slowly wrapped around his hardened cock. 

You kept your eyes fixed on his though. Shiny, playful eyes looking up at him as you hollowed out your cheeks taking him in even further. 

“Fuck—y/n.” He let out a groan and gripped firmly onto the windowsill as you sucked him off. 

This definitely wasn’t a dream—it was far too real to be a dream. 

The way you hummed while you bobbed your head up and down and the vibrations that he felt all over his length was a reminder that this was in fact, happening. 

“That’s it.” 

Draco dipped his head backwards and closed his eyes. His cold hand caressed your face before slowly making their way through your tousled locks. 

You gripped his thighs and went in deeper, making the tip touch the back of your throat as tears started to spill out of your eyes. 

“Such a good girl.” He praised holding your hair up into a makeshift ponytail. "You look so perfect with my cock in your pretty little mouth." 

It was surprising how his words only made you tighten your lips around his cock and jerk off the bit you couldn't fit in your mouth and this only made him groan and tighten his grip on your hair—fucking your face.  

Friday

“It’s been raining quite a bit these days.” Adrian commented as you both walked towards the dungeons. 

“It has.Hasn’t it?” You mumbled, turning to take a long look at him. There was no denying that he looked good in his Quidditch uniform—with his dark hair complimenting the Slytherin green. 

Both of you quietly entered the common room and sat down on a couch surrounded by an uncomfortable silence that was getting far too familiar at this point. 

Both of you spent time together just for the sake of both of your parents who’d carefully set up your relationship.

Sometimes, you went on dates and stuffed your mouth with food just to avoid having a conversation.

And then there were nights of efficient and routinely sex and ignoring each other’s presence afterwards. 

You picked on the ends of your hair and wondered why you were still with Adrian and vice versa. 

Sure you’d known him for years, sure he’d held your hand through every awkward dinner and other miscellaneous and pretentious strictly pure blood events but there was a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. 

Still, that didn’t justify your clandestine rendezvous with Draco and the guilt was slowly eating you up. 

“Everything alright with you y/n?” Adrian asked, placing his hand on top of yours. 

“Yes—I mean no. Yes.” 

Adrian raised his eyebrows, looking befuddled. 

“Adrian, there’s something I need to tell—”

“That won’t be necessary.” He said as he quickly cut you off. “I already know what you’re about to tell me—you are rubbish at glamour spells, you know.I can still see most of the bruises on your neck.” 

You touched your neck and drew in a sharp breath when your fingertips landed on a fresh one from last night.

“May I ask who?” Adrian cleared his throat, instantly making you retrieve your hands from your neck.

And as if on cue, the Slytherin seeker who’d marked your neck up walked into the common room still in his Quidditch fit.

His hair was ruffled up due to all the flying and there was a slight cut near his left brow. You wondered if he’d gotten that cut during practice or if he’d started a brawl with someone. 

When it came to Malfoy, you could never be too sure. 

Adrian’s eyes followed your own and he shook his head in disbelief when he got the answer to his question.

“Malfoy?” He asked while you stared at the ground below hoping it would swallow you whole.

“I’m sorry Adrian.”

“I don’t know what to tell you y/n.” Adrian whispered using his hand to lift your chin up. “You and I both knew this relationship was going nowhere didn’t we?”

You nodded and you slowly stretched out your arms and wrapped them around Adrian’s waist as he rested his head on top of yours. 

“I’ll see you around y/n.”

~~~~~~

“And there goes my peace and quiet.” Draco muttered, flicking the ashes away from the lit cigarette between his index and middle finger as you entered the classroom that night. 

The scent of soap and the water droplets at the ends of his hair indicated that he was fresh out of the shower. 

“Well, hello to you too.” You retorted as you got comfortable on the windowsill next to him. 

He simply scoffed and continued to smoke his ridiculously expensive cigarettes and instinctively, you drew in a long deep breath.

You tried to talk to him but all you got were clipped responses and curt nods. 

“What’s gotten you in such a mood today?” You asked firmly as you got down from the windowsill and took a step towards him with your arms crossed over your chest. “I can usually tolerate you but Merlin!”

“If you can’t tolerate me, why don’t you just run along to your dorm then?”

“Okay—You really don’t want me here do you?” You asked trying your hardest to ignore the sudden hurt you felt. 

“I never said that. I just don’t think it’s a smart idea on your end to be here when Pucey is probably waiting for you in your bed.” 

“I share my dorm with Pansy and Millicent.” You pointed out as you took another purposeful step towards him until you were standing in between his parted legs. “Not everyone here has their own room.” 

“Well, that is hardly my fault.” He shrugged, flicking the ash off of his cigarette with another swift motion of his hand before placing it between his lips again.

You pulled the cigarette out of his lips and pressed the lit end on the windowsill extinguishing it.

“You really are a frustrating little git you know.” 

He looked up with you, quizzically with his silvery eyes that looked like they were made of pure mercury as you cradled his face in the palm of your hands.

“You frustrate me Draco Malfoy and yet, I find myself in this classroom every single night.” 

He drew a sharp breath sliding both his hands on your hip before pulling you down towards him until you were straddling him.

Seeing you with Adrian had ignited this peculiar kind of stabbing sensation inside the pit of his stomach. 

“And I find everything you do rather infuriating.” He murmured cupping your face in his hands—his rings cold on your cheeks. “You talk too much, your potion making skills are abysmal and did I tell you that I had to refrain from pushing Pucey off his broom at practice today?” 

“In my defense, I like talking, I hate potions and Adrian broke up with me..” 

He blinked a couple times before pressing his forehead to yours. “Y/n, you can’t just spring out information like that so nonchala—”

“Kiss me Draco—take me. Make me shut up, make me yours.” You whispered, cutting him off, shocked at your confidence. 

And before he could utter another word, you slowly closed the gap between your lips. 

He felt like a man coming out of a fog when your lips touched—he adored your lips. They reminded him of ripened cherries and he wanted to bite them till they were bleeding with sweetness. 

It wasn’t long before his hands made their way to the hair along the nape of your neck and he deepened the kiss by grabbing a fist full of your hair and pushing your face closer to his.

And as much as you loved the way he kissed you, you were aching for something more. 

You broke the kiss to place greedy kisses along his sharp jawline causing a groan to escape his lips.

The way you gripped onto the collar of his shirt and bit onto his exposed flesh was a far cry from being ladylike. 

No. 

The way you started to grind your hips against the growing bulge in his pants, desperate for friction against your clothed core was enough to make any uptight pure blood girl with her “proper etiquettes” blush. 

You never really did care about all that rubbish anyway. 

The amount of self control Draco needed to grip your hips firmly in place so that you’d stop moving was astronomical. 

“Not here.” He whispered staring into your eyes.

~~~~~~

“Draco put me down! Filch is going to see us!” You protested as he lifted you up in his arms and started to walk towards his room. 

“Then stop it with the yelling.” 

“I’m not yelling.” You pointed out as Draco muttered the password to the Slytherin common room and before you knew it, you were in his room, spread out on his bed.

Your clothes were long gone—thrown away somewhere in his room and you could feel the softness of his sheets against your naked skin. 

“So fucking beautiful y/n.” He said, staring at you longingly. 

Draco was too awestruck to tell you but he’d wanted this for so long.

He’d stayed up late, lost sleep, and spent too many mornings invested in the thoughts of you on his bed—your cheeks flushed, your hair tousled and your legs pushed apart giving just the perfect view. 

The boy had fucked his fist in the thoughts of you, let’s be honest. 

Fuck. He wanted to destroy you—push himself inside of you till you were screaming his name.

There was a fervent kind of lust burning in his veins as he leaned down to crush his lips onto yours.

He didn’t want to hold back. 

He wasn’t capable of holding back anymore. 

Not with his lips when he parted your lips apart.

Not with his hands that roamed all over your bare skin—feeling every curve, every valley,  every mark, even the tiniest birthmark that made you so uniquely you. 

“Draco..” 

“Don’t say my name like that.” He said in a raspy voice as his tongue lapped against your taught nipple. “I won’t be able to restrain myself if you do.” 

You used your hands to grasp his hair and hold his face firmly in place as his tongue alternated between your nipples. 

“Then don’t...fuck yes..Draco..I want you—you know that I want you.”

“Oh?” He smirked looking up at you making your cheeks glow red.

He came back up and continued to kiss you as your hands started to work to get rid of his shirt. 

Both of you paused for a minuscule second as you stared at each other and the second your eyes met, something snapped and the rest of the world faded into a void. 

Lips against lips. 

Skin against skin. 

His hands grasping your hair and your nails digging into his biceps. 

His mouth attached themselves to your nipples again in an aggressive kind of way and all you could do was whimper out his as you writhed underneath him. 

He languidly ran his fingers up and down your slit, barely making enough contact with your clit. 

“So fucking wet..” 

You whimpered and arched your hips upward as he continued. 

“Tell me y/n, is this what you mean when you say you want me, hm?” He whispered softly against your skin and all you could do was let out a cry. 

“Draco...please..”

Two of his fingers pushed into your folds and you clutched hard into his shoulders.

And when he suddenly removed his fingers from you, you winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness. 

Draco stuck his fingers into your mouth and murmured into your ears. 

“Suck.” 

You closed your eyes and began to suck on his fingers while your hands hurriedly reached for his belt buckle. 

“So pretty.” He said in a low voice as he moved his tip up and down your slit not entering just yet. His eyes, clouded and saturated with desire met yours searchingly.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes—fuck me already.” You pleaded. “Please I want you so fucking—oh..fuck...mmmm…..”

He rammed himself inside of you as soon as the words fell out of your mouth. 

At first, he took his time with you—trying to commit himself to memorising just how you took him, how his cock felt inside your warm cunt.

He then thrusted hard and deep as he kept himself propped up on top of you, supported by his elbows.

The sight of you underneath him, with your soft hair flowing down his pillow in all directions, the warm flush on your cheeks and the way your face contorted in pleasure drove him wild. 

Each of his kisses were accompanied by hard thrusts and you fisted the sheets and clenched his cock inside of you making him cuss and groan. 

"Fuck, You take me so well y/n—so fucking tight..your cunt is fucking perfect...fuck.." 

He moaned, increasing the speed of his thrusts causing you to clench him even more. 

"Fucking do that again." He hissed thrusting deeper inside of you hitting just the right spot. 

“Oh...Fuck...Draco…”

“Fuck y/n...say my name” He demanded as he leaned down and his tongue lapped against your taught nipple. “Fucking scream my name—” 

“Draco...Oh..Draco...Draco!” You whimpered, gripping his hair while he sucked on your nipple. 

He most certainly didn’t not hold back with his skillful tongue when he cleverly suckled on your sensitive nipples, timing the movement of his thrusts pumping in and out of you perfectly with his licks. 

“That’s right..” he said with his thumb now pleasuring your clit. “Let the whole of Slytherin know who you belong to.”

It was strange how the possessiveness turned you on even more and a tight knot started to form inside of your stomach as the sound of skin slapping against skin started to get louder and louder in his room. 

"Oh my god...fuck..right there—Draco!" You cried out when he hit your sensitive spot over and over again with each thrust.

Draco's breathing soon got increasingly strained as he picked up the pace. "Fuck y/n. You’re gonna make me fucking cum if you keep screaming like that—fuck.” 

But to his absolute pleasure and dismay, you just couldn’t stop moaning. 

It was too much. 

You always thought people were exaggerating when they said they could see stars and celestial whatnots when they approached their highs but now you yourself we’re seeing them. 

Time and space became non-existent to you as he pounded into you. 

"Oh fuck..I’m gonna.." You bit your lower lip as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

"Cum for me." He groaned. "Cum all over my cock." He wrapped his ring clad fingers around the base of your throat and that did it for you really. 

"Draco!" You moaned in complete euphoria when your orgasm hit you, causing your legs to spasm as you clenched him. 

"Fuck—" he let his own orgasm wash all over him as he released is load inside of you.

He had never before seen a prettier sight than your cunt—fucked out and leaking with his cum.

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

Saturday 

You sipped on your Butterbeer and glanced at the people seated with you at the three broomsticks.

Pansy was explaining something animatedly to Theo while Draco and Blaise were talking about the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. 

The tiniest of smiles crept up your lips when you observed your long time friends. 

You could still remember the excitement you all felt when you got your hands on your Hogwarts letter.

And the elated expressions all of you had exchanged at the great hall after being sorted into Slytherin was still fresh inside of your mind. 

As you looked around the table, Draco’s stormy grey eyes caught yours. 

You always did think he looked fucking attractive in his Quidditch jumper, especially with his icy blonde hair combed neatly to the side. 

The sight made you want to chew on your bottom lip and he smirked when he noticed how flustered you’d suddenly gotten. 

“Y/n. It’s your turn to fetch the Butterbeers.” Pansy’s voice interrupted your supposed eye fucking  staring contest with Draco and you quietly stood up and walked towards the counter. 

“Looks like Cormac Mclaggen has taken an interest in y/n.” Theo commented, making Draco’s head snap at your direction.

You were waiting for your Butterbeer, blissfully unaware of the way Cormac eyed you from head to toe. 

“Draco—Mate is everything alright?” Blaise asked looking at how white Draco’s knuckles had turned from gripping onto his glass. 

“Just perfect.” Draco said through gritted teeth. 

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

Sunday

“We..mmmm..really can’t—oh fuck—do this here right now—oh yes Draco right there—” You whimpered trying your hardest to suppress a moan. 

It was way too early to be at the library, especially on a Sunday. 

You could have been at Draco’s room curled up under his sheets but Blaise insisted to meet up at the library to get a head start on your Potions essay. 

To your absolute delight, Blaise seemed to be running late and thus, you were pressed against a bookshelf in the far corner of the library—your palms and cheeks touching the book spines as he pushed in and out of you. 

“Okay y/n.” He half whispered and half nibbled on your earlobe as he slowed himself down. “I’ll stop If you say so.” 

“No.” You whined pushing your hips backwards.

“But you said we shouldn’t be doing this.” He chuckled.

“Please Draco..” you whined and Instantly made him pound right into you. The way you said please had destroyed any semblance of control he had over himself. 

“Sorry I overslept this mor—SALAZAR FUCKING SLYTHERIN!” Blaise’s hands Instantly flew over his eyes when he saw just what was happening. 

Oh Fuck.

Monday

“What is happening to this world?” Pansy asked bewildered—rubbing her eyes and trying to digest the sight in front of her while Theo opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to answer but the words seemed to have disappeared inside of him. 

Draco was seated on an armchair in the Slytherin common room with you on his lap. You had your arms wrapped firmly around his torso while your head rested on his chest. 

Both of you had fallen asleep in front of the Fireplace.

“Never thought I’d get to see this. Not in this life anyway.” Theo quipped, scratching his chin. 

“Oh, I’ve seen worse—way worse.” Blaise shuddered suddenly appearing in between Pansy and Theo. “I have seen things I cannot unsee. I have seen things that make me want to scourgify my eyes.”

“Should we wake them?” Blaise asked, looking at Theo and Pansy. 

“I say we act like we don’t know and fuck with their heads a little.” Pansy suggested. 

“Im in too. But for now, Let them be.” Theo put his arm around the other two as dragged them away. “The world seems so peaceful for once.” 

Tuesday 

After a long day of classes you changed into your silk night dress and headed towards the kitchen to sneak in some late afternoon snacks but you felt someone grab your wrist in the middle of the shadowy hallway. 

“Merlin Malfoy! You have to stop it with the lurking.” You complained as he started to kiss the base of your throat. 

“Oh please y/n.” He smirked. “You fucking love it.” 

You did. 

You loved it. 

So much that you ended up sullying the nearest classroom desk and he somehow ended up destroying your favorite slip dress.

Draco watched with fascination as you tried to slip back into the remains of your silk slip dress.

“I’m sorry about your dress.” 

“That’s okay.” You mumbled absently as you tried to get your dress to stay on your body. 

“Here.” He said hesitantly before handing you his blazer. “Wear this.”  

“Going back to my dorm with your blazer doesn’t seem like a good idea.” You chuckled as the fabric drowned you. “What am I going to tell Pansy?” 

His lips quirked into a faint smile.

“You aren’t going to your dorm y/l/n”

~~~

You were in the middle of picking up your clothes when there was a knock on Draco’s door. Thank Merlin you managed to get dressed in whatever you could find before the door unlocked. 

“Um hello Mr. Malfoy.” You squeaked at the figure standing outside Draco’s door.

You’d forever found Lucius Malfoy intimidating to say the least, his sneering expression and patronising attitude didn’t help much either. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/l/n.” Lucius responded. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

“I could say the same father.” Draco added, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“I was just on my way out.” You mumbled quickly summoning and collecting your things. 

You used your right leg to kick your brassiere under his bed praying you were discreet enough.

It was just one of the many things Draco’s father wouldn’t be hearing about. 

“I’ll see you around Draco.” You gave him a quick nod and turned towards Lucius. “It was good seeing you Mr.Malfoy.” 

“Likewise, y/n.” He responded. “I do believe Draco had told you about the New Years Ball.”

“Somewhat.” You lied after seeing Draco’s pale features turn as white as paper. 

Lucius hummed. 

“Please send my regards to Mrs.Malfoy.” You said before closing the door behind you. 

Safe to say, Draco didn’t show up to the classroom that night. 

Wednesday 

He cornered you into a wall before your first class for the day—kissed your lips in a “desperate measures” kind of way and vanished into class before you could say a word. 

Thursday 

You’d waited. 

Waited all alone in the classroom without him and his wisps of smoke to accompany you for the third night. 

Your thoughts ran rampant as the night faded away into morning. 

You knew he wasn’t obligated to come to the classroom but his absence bothered you nonetheless. 

Having waited for him for three whole nights, you weren’t even going to deny the idea that you had harboured feelings for him. 

Had he though? 

Would he meet you halfway even? 

What even were you two?

You shook your head and decided to head on back to your dorm and get ready for the day but the second you entered the dungeons, you realised that your feet had plans of their own. 

After a short sprint this door came into view and your heart beat started to accelerate.

"Draco!" You knocked, panting and out of breath. "Draco. Open the door!" 

You stood there knocking continuously before the door flung open. 

"Draco I need to talk to—"

A slender looking brunette girl stood on the other end wearing his Quidditch sweater that you loved so much—Sharp features, rosy cheeks and rosier lips. 

She wasn't in your year but you knew her. 

"Astoria?" You spluttered unable to get any other words out of your mouth.

"Hello. Can I help you?" 

To be continued...

__________________________________________

Part 4 Teaser:

“I could get used to waking up like this.” Draco smirked looking up at you. His platinum blonde hair was slightly wavy and kind of fluffy, falling on his forehead but not yet covering his stormy greys. 

“Like what?” you teased. 

“Don't play with me y/l/n.” He warned with a wicked gleam making the grey hues in his eyes brighten into a brilliant blue. It was almost like his eyes changed colors from blue to grey according to his moods. 

“I could get used to waking up like this too.” You said softly

Before Draco could reply, his door creaked open. 

“Malfoy, Astoria is waiting for you in the commonroo—fuck not this again.” Blaise groaned covering his eyes as you pulled the sheets over your body. 

Part four available here

___________________________________

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Gleam and Glow

Chapter 1

Pairing: Grey! Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3,374

Description: The reader has been held captive by their own mother their whole life, taught to believe the world is bad and that they need to be protected from it. That their gift needs to be protected from it. They possess 70 feet of hair with healing properties and some people will do anything for a chance at peace.

General Warnings: This story contains dark elements and various dark characters!! Do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!!!, kidnapping, violence, language, angst, whump, for the purposes of the story the reader has 70ft foot long hair that glows gold- this does not change regardless of hair color or texture, inspired by the movie Tangled.

Chapter Warnings: kidnapping, manhandling, betrayal, mention of trafficking (selling/buying of a human), John Walker, very naive reader, brief sexual implications,arguments, un-gendered pet names,choking, illusion to sexual harassment, language, please read at your own discretion.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK, REBLOGS ARE WELCOME AND APPRECIATED

A majority of your childhood was peaceful. You got to do all the normal kid things- of course you were never totally sure what a ‘normal’ kid thing was on account of the fact that you’d actually never met another kid but, it felt normal enough. Aside from the very abnormal ‘birth defect’ you were ‘gifted’ with. You stopped considering your magical abilities as a gift by the time you were seventeen, when your mother made it abundantly clear that you could never leave the tower, you could never go outside, and you could never cut your hair.

The only thing more annoying than the seventy foot long tresses was your mother. According to her, your father was a sloppy one night stand she found in a tavern. He was a love em’ and leave em’ type of guy; he gave your mother one great romantic night and then disappeared off the face of the earth. You’ve never met him. You’ve never met anybody. Your mother has always been your only companion. She was a beautiful woman, she said you take after her more than your dad. While she was gorgeous and protective, she was also passive aggressive, rash, and ostentatious. If it was possible for her to get out of being “the bad guy” she lunged, dragging you under at the first chance. When you were younger she would tell you stories about the outside, she made it seem like a gorgeous place. She described the kingdom and the many villages outside its walls. She started with all the good things until you showed interest in escaping, then, she gave you the truth. She began to spin tales of roads rich with crime, vigilante gangs, covert groups of thugs, and rebel Viking camps. From what you could piece together, the rebel Viking camps were the greatest concern.

The rebel Viking groups weren’t actually Vikings. Your mother had said they called them The Vikings because of their rugged and brutal lifestyle. The camp they occupy is more like a small village, the structures following Norse architectural style, chalk-full of criminals and runaways. Runaways. Your mother had always explained to you that when young girls ran away from their mothers they ended up in that village living a life of crime. The very thought of falling into the wrong hands has kept you from sneaking out or from begging to leave the tower. You found ways to be content, ways to keep busy.

The tower wasn’t as big as it looked from the outside, the only living space was at the very top of the tower. The top of the tower had about two floors worth of open space, minimal and organized in the lower level and very maximalist in the bedrooms and wall decor. Mother said the rest of the tower below was sturdy white brick and vine, aged by time and the weather. Most of the exterior bricks were cracked or crumbling, so all the support for the turret came from the tower’s solid core. The roof was a chipped and rusty blue color mostly concealed by untamed ivy growth, which also hid the entrance to the tower’s turret. To your home. The only way in and out of the tower was an intricate pulley system made from twisted vine and rope. Originally, mother had used your hair to get into the turret, until one day a strand snapped from the pressure, dying and losing its magic. In an effort to protect your gift, you helped your mother make the pulley.

Crafting things was just one of the many ways you spent your time in the tower. After you’d turned eighteen your mother didn’t stick around much, if at all, leaving at night to go to the palace or the tavern, sometimes coming back in the morning and sometimes being gone for a day or two. With so much time alone the only option was to learn how to entertain yourself. Reading books, cooking, painting, testing the information you soaked up from all of the books, sewing holes in clothes, polishing leather, polishing silver, dusting, drawing in the dust. It’s a really long list. If there’s more to add you add it, forever stretching the possibilities. As the sun started to go down however, it started to seep in just how repetitive and predictable your daily activities had become. While you knew leaving the tower would be a horrible and dangerous mistake, you couldn’t help but long to be outside. To feel the grass between your fingers or to stand out in the sun, somewhere other than where it leaks through the turrets window entrance. It could never happen. Knowing this was an impossibility kept an icy grip on your stomach, a lonely sort of feeling, naturally touch starved by fate. It’s been years since the last time you asked to leave. Much before you knew how dangerous it really was out there. Asking one more time couldn’t really hurt could it? You’d be twenty soon enough, just one touch wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Mother had left early in the morning, off to do some much needed grocery shopping; if she hadn’t decided to stop by the tavern she would be home very soon. Too soon to come up with a better plan. Quickly you started to prepare for her to come home, sweeping the dining area and pulling out the utensils needed to make a special stew recipe you remember she had enjoyed. If she was going to say yes she needed to be buttered up first. Once the cooking utensils were nicely organized on or beside the unlit stove, and the dust was done away with, it was time to make quick work of anything she could use against your argument. Rushing to one of your most treasured bookshelves you pulled a discarded velvet scrap from the back of one of your more worn astronomy books. The midnight blue fabric had been torn from one of your favorite dresses when you were sixteen, unwilling to part with the shredded material, it was quickly fashioned into a long braided bookmark. Since then you’ve opted for shorter than floor length gowns or comfortable riding pants and tunics. The supposedly “masculine” style annoyed mother to no end but then again she really couldn’t understand how suffocating the corsets could become, or how difficult it was to fasten them without getting hair caught beneath the strings.

Unbraiding the bookmark allowed it to become one long thick strand, setting it on the dining table, you went to gather your hair. For the most part, you tried to keep it close to yourself. Getting any part snagged or wrapped around something was more of a pain in the ass than taking the time to gather it together. Gathering so much hair was difficult, it took time and it was unbelievably heavy. Once you were finally able to get it all in one place you started the tedious task of braiding. In order to braid it up enough to keep it off the floor you split it into three sections, braiding those separately before braiding them up into a complex Dutch braid. It took nearly two hours to finish so you could finally tie up the end with the dismantled bookmark. The complexity allowed the braid to settle halfway down your calves, keeping it neat and off the ground. Now all that was left to do was light the lanterns around the room and wait. Waiting for mother to get home was nerve wracking, if possible you’d busy yourself with starting the stew but you were fresh out of the most important ingredients.

“Y/n let down the vine!” Mother yelled from the bottom of the tower and the tension finally broke.

“Coming!” You sighed out in relief rushing to the window and lowering out the vine life you had made.

Once you were sure she was safely in the lift’s sling, you utilized the pulley system to begin pulling her up. The tower was around forty feet tall, making the trip up lengthy and difficult. When she was close enough to the window entrance you hooked the vine slack onto the wall hook, keeping it stationary, before quickly coming to help her in with the groceries. Taking the canvas grocery bags from her arms and into the kitchen, you started pulling out the items to take inventory on what she’d bought at the market.

“How was the market? Did that man give you trouble on the celery prices again?”

“Ugh doesn’t he always? Absolutely exhausting, he wanted double, and then there was a fight at the tavern again which I always have to break up.” She pulled out a chair at the dining table, sitting into it and slinging her feet up into the neighboring chair.

You slowed for a moment, pulling the bundle of carrots from the bag slower as you processed that she may be intoxicated which meant there’d be zero chance of having the conversation you desperately desired.

“You went to the tavern?” You asked, feigning excitement.

“Of course sweetheart, I promised that I would but I wasn’t there for long I promise.” She got up to meet you in the kitchen, resting her hands on your shoulders.

“Now what are we having? I’m absolutely starved.” She smiled.

“I was going to make that stew from last winter that you liked so much. Now that fall is settling in.” you started to add broth and small peeled potatoes to the pot.

“That sounds delightful darling, I’m going to go rest my eyes, call me when it’s done?” Mother started to walk away. It was now or never.

“Actually!” You cleared your throat., “Actually I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

“Alright but let’s make this quick, mama’s feet are aching.” She turned back around to sit in another chair.

“Well as you know I’m almost twenty, an adult really and I’m already very responsible around the tower-“

“Y/n where is this going?” She interrupted, rubbing her temples.

“I want to go outside.” You turned to look at her.

“We’ve talked about this! It’s far too dangerous! You know what would happen if anyone discovered your gift!”

“I know, I know, but I’ve thought about it and no one would even know! I won’t tell anyone about it, and if they don’t know I have it then they don’t know how to use it, so it’s useless to them. If I just keep it braided I’ll be completely normal!” You came to sit across from her, hoping it’ll be convincing.

“No absolutely not, it’s much too risky! I have kept you safe for nearly twenty years! I am not stopping now! You’re far too young to understand but this is what’s best for you!” She got up and started to walk away again.

“But it’s not! I’ve never met anyone else! I’ve never had friends or met other people my own age! I’ve never even seen a real man!” You were absolutely desperate.

“Oh a man?! This is about men huh?! So you want to leave the safety of the home I built for you to go whore around for a man?!” She was absolutely furious, beyond cooling down.

“Mother no!” Your face was burning with embarrassment at the very suggestion of sexual activities.

“No truly I understand! You would rather leave this place and be used by men! Drained of your power in one of those Viking camps no doubt! I won’t hear another word, I’m going out for air and your attitude better be gone by the time I get back!” She walked over to the vine, untying it from the wall and setting it into a rustier pulley wheel that would let her down slowly, she was gone just as soon as she’d finished her sentence.

You had no choice but to sit in utter silence and shame. Swallowed by guilt that mother could ever consider you’d do that to her. As much as you wanted to leave and experience the real world, you desperately didn’t want to disappoint your mother or end up somewhere bad. Very quickly you dissolved into regret, backing over to try and undo what’s already been done, planning a way to forgiveness. Finishing the stew was the only way you knew how to start so you got to work, making this the best stew you could ever devise. Having never written the recipe down you had to go solely based on flavor and gut feeling. That was the best way to cook anyway. Once it had been spiced to taste you put the lid on the pot to let it simmer.

Almost immediately you found yourself overrun with anxiety, filled with a need to do something with your hands. To occupy your mind. There really wasn’t much to do in the tower to occupy you enough to erase this from the forefront of your mind. So you opted for the only thing that you could: cleaning. Your started polishing, dusting anything that you could and when there was nothing left you sat and you waited. The silence was absolutely deafening. You’d totally zoned out until you heard the rattling of the pot lid on the stove, snapping your head to it only to see the stew boiling over.

“Shit!” You rushed to turn it off, burning your hand in the process as you cleaned up the mess. Suddenly you were no longer hungry.

Opting to leave the stew on the stove for whenever mother would return you left the kitchen, going to your room as you cradled your hand gently. Tears stung your eyes, threatening to drip through your lashes and you curled up on your bed. Reaching for your braid with your uninsured hand, you gently took the end and rested it over your burned palm, reaching to wipe away some loose tears. Whether the tears were from the pain or from emotional discourse you couldn’t be sure. After drying your tears you closed your injured fingers around the large amount of hair, and began to hum a soft familiar melody. As the melody continued your hair began to glow a brilliant gold, almost glittery in color. Once the shimmer reached your palm, the heat faded and the wound healed. You were able to breathe. You looked to your palm, it was as soft and unharmed as it had been that morning. As it had always been. No scars or leftover pain. Just smooth healthy skin.

You couldn’t be bothered to really prepare for bed. The dress you wore was moveable, the corset easily undone as it tied in the front rather than in the back. Laying back you took a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily to let go of all the stress that you could. After a minute of peace you pushed yourself up and off the bed, walking over to the dark wood armoire, opening it to look in the mirror, you sighed looking at your dress. There was stew on the navy skirt and what looked like a sizable carrot. You’d have to change to sleep. Lifting the skirt up closer you plucked off the carrot and disposed of it in the nearby waste basket. Returning to the armoire you flipped your braid back over your shoulder and checked the white sleeves of the off the shoulder blouse, slid your hands over the black corset, grabbing the tied strings from the vertex of the sweetheart neckline you untied the knot. Just as you’d finished untying the security knot you heard a loud grinding bang from the lower level. Pausing to listen you grew concerned.

“Mother? Are you alright?” You called gently.

When you didn’t receive a response you dropped the corset strings and left your bedroom, looking over the bannister you were met with the worst sight you could possibly have imagined. A large piece of the stone floor was broken and pushed out of the ground, slid off to the side and two large men climbed out of the dark hole below. Half a million questions filled your head. How was there a space under the floor? How did these men find you? Did they know who you were? There wasn’t time to think, you had to act. Silently and quickly you snuck back into your bedroom, burning out the lamps and climbing into the armoire as best as you could. Tilting your chin up to silence your breathing you listened. Waiting. Thinking. The men were much bigger than you thought a man would be. From what you could make out they dressed in dark clothing. Leather. Worn and hardly taken care of if at all. They were similar heights. One a redhead and the other blonde, both with rugged facial hair. You only had a brief look and the adrenaline pumping through your veins was making it difficult to focus.

“I am never doing that shit again, forty feet of crumbling bricks and thirty feet of rope, you seriously didn’t think that through?!” You could hear them arguing.

“It didn’t look that tall alright? Can we just find the chick and get out of here? I lost my good boots in a poker game with trash panda and if I don’t win them back he’s gonna tear them apart.”

It was clear they were coming for you. The only thing you could do was hope mother came home or that they didn’t see you behind all the other clothing in the armoire. The stairs creeped. Once. Twice. There was only one creaky step. They were both coming up. You held your breath.

“Food on the stove and the lamp in here is still warm. She was here recently.” They made it into your bedroom.

“If I had to guess I’d say she’s still here.” The footsteps stopped. It was silent.

Suddenly, the hem of your skirt was yanked-it had been caught in the door-and then the armoire burst open. The blonde man grabbed your arm as you struggled, ripping you from the small dark space and out into the open. He spun you around, pressing your back to his chest, his left forearm braced across your neckline and gripped your right shoulder. His right hand held a sharp silver blade to your heart.

“Well, well, well, Princess did we catch you at a bad time? These corset strings are so very loose for company.” The blonde man taunted, using the tip of his blade to pull on the cords.

You gripped this forearm, pushing back closer to his chest in an effort to get away from his blade as you struggled.

“P-please just leave me alone, I won’t tell any-anyone.” You stuttered, trying to stay calm the way your mother had taught you.

“We have plans for you, this hair of yours… hear there’s some people willing to pay a pretty penny for just a touch.” The red headed man stroked your braid, you jerked your head away.

“Oh oh oh” the blonde man laughed. “She’s a feisty one, are you sure we have to deliver her so soon? Could be fun…”

“Oh c’mon man don’t be gross he wants her unharmed. Mostly. C’mon just cloth her so we can go. Boots remember??” The red head said, grabbing your wrists and tying them together roughly. He took the dagger from the blonde, continuing to hold it in its position as the blond reached into his pocket.

“No no no no no please please I’ll give you anything you want just leave me alone!” You begged, swerving your head away from the blondes clothed hand as it moved towards your mouth.

“Bitch stop fussing around!” He slid his left forearm up to your throat, both choking you and effectively stabilizing your head long enough to clamp the cloth over your mouth and nose.

It hardly took thirty seconds before your vision started to swim and your vision started to fade to black.

“We’re already late. He’s waiting.” One of the men said as he slipped a cloth bag over your head. Your hearing went out, senses dulled as you gave in the the dark.

[b0rista]

— 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄, 𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍, & 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐃. ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: language, because i can't form sentences without using "fuck" every other word JDJD.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: i only made this modern because i desperately wanted to include marco to the fullest leave me aloneEffsg. gn! reader, and i went pretty lengthy on this one so beneath the cut is where the headcanons start :)

𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓: bearbrickjia on instagram!

by far, the best friend group to have. everyone balances one another out, and it's a perfectly imperfect mesh of teenagers.

there's jean, the group's centerpiece. he's the alpha of the posse, usually working as their own personal line leader whenever they're caught doing something as a group. he'll never admit it, but he's also the dad friend. of course, he's more of a "i wish i never gave birth to you oh my god please leave me alone also i love you" type than the stereotypical dad friend.

there's marco, the glue holding the group together. unsurprisingly, he's the calm, kindhearted support system that balances out the cokeheads, keeping them all sturdy. without a doubt, the group would fall apart without him. they need him, okay!! and by "them," i mean jean and yourself. marco, never change.

following up, there's connie & sasha, the wonder twins. their roles are pretty self explanatory, given their natural rambunctiousness. they're the two that hang out outside of the group the most, for obvious reasons. they're the crackhead siblings that bring life to the group, despite the hot water they typically land the others in. through their antics and their comic relief, they're irreplaceable. still, it's easy to want to strangle them sometimes.

next, there's you! because you're the reader, i won't name any specifics, but you're greatly cherished. you mark your place in the crew through various ways, having a unique relationship with each and every member. when he's in need of a breather outside of his typical nest (AKA marco), jean hits your line. if you're needing any kind of assistance with literally anything ever, marco's there to help. craving some chaos? bitch, connie & sasha have GOT YOU.

the main hangout spot is jean's house, 100%. not only has his mom practically adopted the whole squad, but there's only two people living there, so it isn't crowded. connie banned literally all four of you from his place, lmao. there was too many people there, and his family lives to humiliate him.

the group has this one policy, set down by yourself and jean: four piece maximum. this is directed solely towards sasha, of course, considering her tendency to raid her friends' fridges entirely of any food. if she's ever caught rummaging through a fridge for longer than necessary, it's the home owner's duty to shout, "four piece minimum!"

^ it never fails to startle her 😭. one time, she hit her head so hard on the fridge ceiling at jean's house she had to use a bag of frozen peas to soothe the swelling.

then, she proceeded to eat the thawed out peas. jean gagged.

the inside jokes? endless. all it takes is one word from a single event, and the five of you are losing your shit. it's cute, to be honest, how overzealous you all get from a single instance from months ago.

"ha. heh. hee."

"what is it?"

"ngGhh,, chEDDAR TIDDIES-"

"AHHHHHAGAGSHHDJF-"

if there are any inside jokes formed between two group members that isn't shared with the rest of them, there will be immediate bitterness. one time, you and sasha were giggling to yourselves over some druggie named jerry who'd tried selling baskets of rotten cherries to the two of you during a gas station haul— the boys were not having it. what the fuck were you doing without them, "friends"?

right before starting your guys' senior year of highschool, the five of you were on a group facetime when you all sent your schedules into group chat. due to the scarceness of your soon-to-be-majors, absolutely none of you had any classes together. you had a single lunch period with connie while marco had one with jean, but that was about it. it was,, a dramatic discovery. sasha fucking screamed.

"i have nothing with nobody!"

"calm down, sash-"

"you have lunch with y/n! LUNCH! that's my place, lunch. this is despicable, this is evil, this is a braus hate crime-"

yeah, she didn't take it that well. it's okay, doe. the four of you made a special effort during your passing periods, giving sasha enough of a fix for her to make it through each and every day.

it isn't like the five of you don't hang out outside of the classroom, either!! if you hadn't already made plans during that week, the weekend is where you absolutely thrive as a group. study sessions that always shift into exclusive house parties, lunches spent at your favorite places, the occasional visit to the movie theater, and so on. with a mini crowd like that, it's hard for any of you to get bored.

jean's hopeless crush on mikasa is a big factor in your friendship. when everyone minus marco (because he's an angel) isn't mercilessly teasing him, you're all trying to actually help the fucker score the girl. from talking him up obnoxiously enough whereas she'll hear, or flat out telling her to give him a chance, it's an actual effort. though, it's unfortunately all to no avail. shawty's too smitten with eren to even consider her options.

^ with that being said, the four of you have to give jean the "there are other fish in the sea" scoop more often than you'd like to admit.

group cuddles. that's that.

because he's the tallest and therfore the longest (probably, depending on your height), everybody has a chosen body part of jean's to latch onto during naps. connie has one leg while you have the other, and sasha keeps her head rested on his shoulder. marco's at the very bottom, entangling his legs in your own. somehow, this is heaven for jean. he'll never admit to it, though. as far as any of you are concerned, he HATES IT.

ranking from #1 as the best and #5 as the worst, these are the rated group therapists: ⇩︎

#1: marco. self explanatory, he's an amazing listener and provides supremely good advice. that, and he'd literally rather die than let any of his friends internalize anything they're dying to let loose.

#2: you. really, you're just a lot better than jean or connie. sasha's okay at it, but she's not the best at rationalizing, leaving you at second best. basically, when marco isn't available, you're where the freak shows go. marco goes to you about things, too.

#3: sasha. again, she's just a loT better than the final two. sasha's a sweetheart! she's empathetic, and nonjudgmental. we love her in this house.

#4: connie. also somewhat of a sweetheart, although not as much as sasha. he'll drop a shit ton of humor into serious conversations, making them just a tad bit more tolerable.

#5: jean. look, he's a great friend! however, he isn't all that empathetic, and he'll have some trouble understanding. still, he would try his hardest to make you or the other three feel better :,)).

in a modern universe, i know damn well connie's a half-assed stoner 30% of the time. he doesn't light up all that often, and he doesn't tell anybody about it, even you guys. mainly because marco will grill him for it DJFK. however, you stumbled upon his mini marijuana stash and he was like ahh, shit. you didn't really care doe, his secret is safe with you. you, however, now have DIRT on him.

matching bracelets that you all made for eachother yEars ago but never wear 🥺🥺.

many, many, many poly relationship jokes. only jokes, though. some people take it too literally, which y'all just laugh at.

there's a miniature rivalry going on between you and another nearby friend group: reiner, bertholdt, annie, ymir, and christa. of course, all of you are friends, it's all fun in games— most of the time, anyway. it's a funny rivalry, and you guys go at it quite a bit.

one of your guys' most intense debates is whether or not marco has freckles on his dick.

he,, refuses to show any of you, or even anSweR you.

"you act like we can't just check whenever we use the urinals, man."

"CONNIE-"

now, marco refuses to go to the bathroom at the same time as any of the boys <\33.

the group band? black eyed peas.

[monicashipsnickyjoe]

(part 5 of my advertising agency office au - see masterpost)

“I see you currently work at Merrick’s agency,” the interviewer says through the speakers of Nicky’s phone. He skipped lunch to sit out in his car in the parking lot and take this call.

At the start of the call, the interviewer introduced herself as Andy, CEO of the company, The Old Guard. The agency was much smaller than Merrick’s, employing only a handful of people. But their client list was lengthy and loyal. Their website said they’ve been around for many years.

“Yes,” Nicky says, unsure how much to give away.

“You poor bastard,” she said. “What are you making there?”

Nicky blinks at her language and her forward question, but still tells her.

“I’ll give you double,” she says. “When can you start?”

Nicky sits back in the driver’s seat, temporarily rendered speechless. He’d never had an interview go so well, so quickly. “I would need two weeks, to break cleanly here.”

“You got it.”

“And...” Nicky hesitates. If he asks what he wants to ask, he risks looking unprofessional and potentially losing this absolutely amazing job offer. Joe can handle himself. He surely has job offers lined around the block. But. Still. “I have a friend.” Nicky pauses, unsure how to proceed. Andy waits, and Nicky knows he likes her. Unlike Merrick, she offers him patience. “He is a graphic designer.”

“Oh,” Andy says. “Look, Nicky, we already have a good crew here, except for a numbers guy. We’re like a family.”

“Oh.” Nicky fights to hide his disappointment. “I see.”

“I know Merrick has snagged a lot of good people, but...” She laughs. “Unless it’s Yusuf al-Kaysani, I couldn’t possibly convince the rest of the team to take on another designer.”

Nicky goes very quiet.

Andy notices. “Wait. Is it Yusuf al-Kaysani? Nicky? Are you still there?”

“I haven’t talked to him about it yet,” Nicky says, suddenly nervous. He hadn’t expected to put Joe’s name out there without asking. He’d only meant to see if the option is available.

“Listen, Nicky, the offer’s open for you either way. Think about it. Call me next week. Swing by the office and meet the team. In the meantime, talk to al-Kaysani. If he wants in, we’ll fit another desk in here somewhere.”

Someone in the background says, “We’ll what?”

“Don’t make that face, Booker,” she says. “Bye, Nicky.” She hangs up.

Nicky stares at the call-ended screen on his phone. What a strange interview. But a good offer. And if Joe...

No, he won’t get ahead of himself.

He gets out of his car, puts his phone into his pocket, and tries not to think about any of this for the rest of the day.

*

Joe gives his presentation behind closed doors somewhere on the executive floor, but Nicky knows it goes well when a sizeable check from the Pharmaceutical company crosses his desk.

"Good job, Joe,” Nicky says, pride swelling, and readies the check for the bank.

*

“There you are, Nicky,” Joe says, appearing at the entrance of Nicky’s cubicle at the end of the day. His voice is a shot of warmth through Nicky’s chest, and Nicky immediately abandons what’s left of the day’s work to swivel in his chair and face him.

“Hello, Joe.”

Joe’s eyes flutter closed. He places a hand over his heart. “Say it again.”

“Hello?”

Joe smiles. “My name.”

“Oh.” Nicky’s face burns, but he’s smiling, too. He can’t seem to help himself around Joe. “Hello. Joe.”

Joe takes a strong step forward, into the cubicle. His hands reach out, searching - but then he catches himself and stops. He glances around, but no one is looking. He coughs in his fist.

“I was hoping,” he says, “that if you are free this evening, you would perhaps like to accompany me to dinner. And... if you would like... I would be pleased if you would...” He takes another step closer, smaller than the last. Voice low, he says, “Please come home with me,” sounding as desperate as Nicky feels.

"Yes.”

“Oh.” Joe’s smile expands, blinding. “Molto bene.”

Nicky turns and shuts down his computer properly. He sets his unfinished work in a pile to complete first thing the next time he’s in the office. Then he grabs his jacket and still-full lunch bag and follows Joe out of the cubicle and the building.

Joe leads him to his sports car in a nearby spot. It’s beautiful, silver, and sleek, fast-looking. Nicky frowns at it.

Andy’s offer to Nicky is generous, but would a small company like The Old Guard be willing, or able, to match Joe’s exorbitant salary?

“Nicky?”

“Forgive me.” Nicky shakes his head. This is not the place for that conversation.

Joe gives him a worried look, like he wants to press, but Nicky stops him by promising, “I will tell you later.”

Joe opens the car and Nicky slides into soft leather. Joe sits down in the passenger side and immediately yawns. In the natural light, the bags under his eyes are dark and prominent. All of him, beneath his smile, seems to droop. He’s all but melting into a puddle in the leather.

“Joe. Perhaps I should drive.”

Joe rubs his eyes. “Maybe.” Another yawn. “I don’t know why I’m so tired all of the sudden.”

“I do,” Nicky says. “Two sleepless nights in a row. Perhaps more.” Nicky has suspicions.

Joe huffs a sleepy laugh. “Maybe.”

“Come on.” Nicky holds his hand out for the keys, and Joe gives them over. They switch seats and click their seat-belts.

Nicky turns the ignition, bringing the car to life with a loud purr. He sets it in reverse, but then considers something, and puts it into park again. “I don’t know where you live.” He waits. “Joe?”

Joe is slumped in the passenger seat, eyes closed. His chest rises and falls in long steady breaths.

Nicky’s heart leaps into his throat. How much Joe must trust Nicky to hand him the keys and fall immediately asleep. How tired he must be.

Nodding to himself, Nicky sets the car in reverse again and pulls out of the parking spot. He drives the fancy car the few blocks to his apartment building and pulls into the visitor spot.

With the car parked and the engine turned off, Nicky rounds to the passenger side and opens the door.

“Joe.” He places his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Joe, help me. We’re at my apartment. It’s just a few stairs.”

Joe grumbles, reactive at least, thank goodness. Nicky has already learned how deeply Joe sleeps.

“I’m not sure I can carry you.” Nicky reaches across and unbuckles Joe’s seat belt.

Joe drops his head forward, forehead pressing into Nicky’s shoulder. “You’re so warm,” he mumbles.

“I’ll be even warmer upstairs.”

Joe hums, and moves just enough to help Nicky drag him to his feet. Nicky pulls his arm around his shoulder and leads him to the stairwell, locking the car behind them. The stairs are a struggle, but they manage. Nicky leans Joe against the wall as he opens his apartment door.

“I think I need a nap,” Joe says, blinking slowly. “Just a quick one... I don’t want to miss...”

“Hey.” Nicky catches him before he can fall asleep against the brick wall.

They stumble into Nicky’s small apartment and Nicky leads Joe into the bedroom and to the double-size bed. He eases Joe down and then bends to take off his shoes.

“I’m sorry.” Joe rubs his eyes, but can’t seem to keep them open. “I’m ruining our first date.”

“It’s not ruined,” Nicky says. “Would you like some pajamas?”

Grumbling incoherently, Joe reaches for his shirt and pulls it off over his head.

All of the air suddenly disappears from the room. Nicky suspected Joe is all muscle, but to have it suddenly on display, so very near before him - in his bedroom.

He looks away. Glances back. Looks away again.

“How about a t-shirt?” he says and standing, rushes to his dresser. He digs through the second drawer down, searching for his most comfortable sleeping shirt. When he has it, he faces the bed again, just in time to see Joe kick off his pants.

Joe is, at least, blessedly, wearing underwear.

Still, fire pulses through Nicky’s veins. Joe is beautiful, inside and out. Nicky swallows the rising lump in his throat and approaches the bed.

Bunching the t-shirt, Nicky begs Joe to lift his arms so he can put it on. Joe complies, sitting up enough for Nicky to pull it down and cover those pecs and those abs. He immediately flops back down and starts to snore.

More than anything, Nicky wants to join him. He looks so peaceful and content, and bends his body around a perfectly Nicky-shaped emptiness. With those arms around him, Nicky just knows he would feel warm and safe all night through.

But then his stomach rumbles, reminding him that he skipped lunch. He can’t skip dinner, too. Besides, when Joe wakes up, he’ll be hungry. Nicky will be a lousy host if he doesn’t have food ready for his guest.

On the way to the kitchen, he glances back once, from the door, to Joe sleeping soundly in his bed. And for the first time in a very long time, everything feels right.

[hford0311]

Growing Up

"We're home, sweetheart." Your dad said as the last box was placed in the living room. There was a knock on the door. Y/d/n  opened the door to see a woman with her husband and her possible child there. "Hi! Um...We're your neighbors across the hall." The woman started and introduced themselves: Ben, May, and their nephew Peter. At some point, you caught Peter's eye. "Hi," he exclaimed. The sudden loud child voice shocked you. You walked over to the door and shyly looked at the boy. "I'm Peter," the little boy spoke. "Go on, say hi," your dad encouraged and you quietly introduced yourself to the boy. "She's shy," Y/d/n explained. "We can hardly get this one to shut up," Ben laughed and picked up Peter. "There is a nice playground around the block...and if you need a babysitter or anything, you can come to us." He added. Your dad thanked them before they walked back to their apartment with Peter looking over Ben's shoulder. "Bye," He called with his eyes in your direction.

Years went on with Peter and you growing closer.  It helped that, that the two of you were placed in the same classroom for many of your elementary school classes. Now, it was middle school and the two of you were seeing if you were in any classes together. "There, we have computer lab and English together!" Peter exclaimed, excited that you two weren't completely separated. You sighed in relief about it. "Good, I didn't want to be alone going into the new school," you stated.

The conversations about middle school filled Peter's bedroom. All of the nervousness and excitement about the new grade level being shared. Laughs and worries exchanged until your father came back and you had to return back across the hall. The lengthy hug given to each other as May and Y/d/n exchanged glances about the length. However, with Ben's recent passing, they never made a big deal of the casual affection.

It was early in the morning, maybe around 2 or 3, when Peter talked to you over the walkie-talkie that Aunt May gave to him and you the last Christmas. "Y/n, I just thought of something very important." A few seconds passed after you ignored it, wanting your sleep. "Y/n, answer, I need your help. Now!" You groaned and rolled your eyes as you answered his call. "What is it, Peter?" You sassed. "Is your dad asleep?" He questioned. "Probably, unlike me," you responded, still upset by being woken up. "Can you let me in, please?" Peter requested. You sat up in bed. "Better be a good explanation," you stated and walked towards the front door of your apartment quietly, avoiding large sounds to keep your father asleep. You slowly opened the front door, Peter already waiting there. "This better be good, Parker," you whispered as you let him in and followed him to your room.

"Here me out," he started, the pair of you sitting across from each other on your bed. "Why do you think I let you over, Peter?" You responded. "So you know how most people get into relationships in junior high?" He inquired, and you nodded for an answer. "Well," he paused, "I have never kissed someone before." You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Where is this going, Peter?" You investigated him. "Can I have a practice kiss with you," he words so fast and rushed together that you hardly understood him. You looked at him with confusion. "Y-you can say n-no," he stuttered. "What's the difference between a practice kiss and a regular kiss?" You said in a whisper. "Well," Peter hesitated, "a practice kiss doesn't really count as a first kiss." He explained, and you nodded along with him. "I guess that makes sense," you replied.

"Can we then- practice kiss," his voice got quieter during the second part of his request. You hesitated. "You said it wouldn't count right," he viciously nodded at your question. You pursed your lips together, then agreed to it. You leaned forward with your lips pressed together. "You got to close your eyes, Y/n." Peter told you. You huffed and closed your eyes. You heard him take a deep breath, then there was a quick meeting of your lips. You could have missed it if you didn't know it was coming. However, it did make your heart flutter and heat rise to your cheeks, as did Peter's. "Thanks," he whispered, "I guess I'll go back now." It was never spoke of again.

***

High school came with its own challenges. The pair of you slightly drifted from each other. Still, there were times when you'd come over after school and hangout. On fewer occasions, you'd stay the night and both of you would sleep in the same bed. You did it as kids, so the pair of you were used to it. The days of practice kissing were long over as well. It just wasn't the same as it had been when you guys were younger. After your sophomore year, you didn't share schedules with each other to see when you would be in classes together. You would simply find out that day.

Homecomings were incredibly painful for you. No, you didn't expect to be Peter's date to them, but you at least thought you would be in the same group together. You weren't. Even though seeing Peter happy with his date and the group of people he went with made you happy, it was also depressing at the same time. Sometimes just being around him was just different and underwhelming.

*Warning: Underage Drinking*

It took one party that you deiced to go to tonight that would change so much. You took deep breathes as you opened the door to whoever's house that the party was at. Drinks were flowing down your throat. "Hey, Y/n," you smiled back at Peter as he was getting a drink. Something about seeing him this time was just different. It sent you back to that night before the sixth grade when you practiced kissed and felt the fluttering of your heart.

The two of you actually talked for the first time in what felt like years for you. "I miss you, Peter," you admitted. Well, more like the alcohol was speaking for you. His face was surprised for a second before he gently smiled, "I miss you too, Y/n." He simply stated. Then, an idea popped in his head. "Hey, you want to get out of here?" You nodded with a grand smile in agreement.

The pair of you walked the streets, Peter being much more sober than you helped you stay on the sidewalks and off the streets. Eventually, the two of you ended up at the park the pair of you spent most of your time together in the elementary school. "Remember when we used to go on the swings all the time," you slurred as you clumsily sat on the swing. He chuckled and nodded, sitting to the one next to you. Suddenly, it felt like the world stopped. Not for any reason, it just stopped. "Peter," you turned your body towards him, twisting the metal chains on the swing, "why did you stop hanging out with me?" You were blunt with the question. Sober you would have never dared to ask, but drunk you desperately wanted to as much as sober you and was bold enough to ask.

He paused from the conversation. He couldn't answer. "I didn't want to stop," he quietly answered. You nodded but continued to push, "Why did you then?" He looked sadly back at you, deciding to crouch in front of you then. "I...was afraid that I would get too attached." He softly replied. You made a questioning face. "I-I know people that would want to hurt the people I know, people that I love, Y/n." Peter explained. "What do you mean? Why would people want to hurt you know?" He had no choice but to admit it now. "I'm Spider-Man." You quickly went from questioning to angered and quickly got up from the swing and walked in the direction of your apartment. "Fuck you, Peter Parker! If you hate me, just fucking say it!" You yelled and continued to storm away. You noticed yourself sobering up as your anger increased.

You weren't sure how you got home, but you did by yourself and managed to fall asleep, only to be woken soon after. "Peter to Y/n," that damn walkie-talkie you never turned off before. He repeated the phrase several times before you groaned and answered. "Leave me alone, Parker," you sassed and dropped the talkie on the floor. "Please, let me explain." He begged. He repeated your names and begged countless times more. Eventually, you gave him and let him in your apartment. You both sat like many times before with you both across from each other. At first, during his explanations, you denied him and kept telling yourself that he was lying. Then, he unzipped his backpack that he brought with him. The suit inside it. "You can't tell anyone." He stated.

You were surprised, but your exhaustion masked him. However, you remembered the other secret the two of you kept in your bedroom before. "Just like practice kissing, I will never tell anyone." He looked up at you shocked at the comparison. "Well, it's a bit more serious than that, but-" "Peter," he stopped talking and looked at you, "so when you saying earlier that you didn't want to get attached, you were saying that because..." you dragged some while speaking at the end. "Because," he cleared his throat, "I didn't- I don't - want them to hurt you, Y/n." You nodded. He shifted closer from you on the bed. "I don't want to lose you." Peter whispered and without knowing, he placed his forehead on yours. "You'll never lose me, Peter." You said back in the same hushed tone. "Don't say that," his voice getting desperate. Something took over.

You put both hands on either side of his face, closed your eyes, and pressed your lips to his. This kiss was much sweeter, meaningful, and longer than all of the practices kisses. You'd feel Peter's hands on your waist and get closer to you. Suddenly though, he pulled away. You looked back at him so desperate and confused. "We can't, I don't want to put you at risk." You started to get up from the bed and grab the backpack when you grabbed him and pulled you close. "I'm already at risk, you idiot, and I want to risk it all." You strongly stated. "Let's do it then." Peter replied.

[lizbotw]

hi!! can I ask for some shouto headcanons with a s/o who has frequent nightmares? ty! ily

Todoroki With a S/O That Has Frequent Nightmares

hi! wow, i really loved this request and enjoyed writing it! once again, it's a bit on the longer side and more scenario-like than just plain headcanons, so i hope you like it! tysm, ilyt!!! ♡

Todoroki Shouto

Everyone knows school is just plain hard and going to the top hero school in the nation meant things were… less than easy for you and your classmates.

All-nighters were common, especially now that everyone was living in the dorms together and were up to antics at all hours of the night, even despite the scolding of Iida (Aizawa admitted he couldn't care less what the class did as long as they kept it down and didn't cause too much trouble—just don’t interrupt his sleep and everything is all good).

It’s not like it was unusual for someone to complain offhandedly about being tired one day, or for your classmates to be spotted with eye bags, so no one ever thought to point out the sleepy look you seem to sport regularly from being kept up all night.

Everyone was basically kept up later than intended one way or another, whether it be finishing an assignment last minute or staying up to finish a movie, so they sympathized with your plight, assuming that it was similar to their own—but what they didn’t know was that the reason you were up was much different than any of their reasons.

While they slept peacefully only a few floors away from you, or sometimes even a few doors down the hallway, you were plagued by dark images, the type that twisted around in your mind, growing in ferocity and coiling around your heart with sticky, inky blackness so tightly that you felt as though you couldn’t breathe—any attempts against them that you took seemed futile and you always woke up gasping for air, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead as your chest heaved, heavy with emotion.

You'd gotten used to hiding it, having been dealing with them for quite a while now, and while you eventually learned to brush them off due to their frequency, in the dead of the night, whenever they struck you, you felt as powerless and hopeless as the very first time they arrived.

It was only in the light of day that you were able to be reasonable with yourself and in which the fears lost most of their power (they were never completely gone though, the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind and causing you to mull over them whenever there was a dull moment in class and your attention started to drift).

Perhaps it's because you had these nightmares that you made the most of the energy you had during the day, fighting in your own way in the light to prove that you were still powerful, even if you were stripped of that power every night.

You'd adapted to running on only a few hours of sleep and tried to take short naps throughout the day to make up for lost time (although it was still hard after particularly difficult nights where you got almost zero relief from the terrifying images), so by the time life in U.A. came about, you were able to tough it out and focus on your training.

Speaking of training, you were vicious in class battles, taking many by surprise and were able to render several of your weaker classmates immobile in capture exercises and swept them off of their feet relatively quickly in one on one fights, including a certain “IcyHot” boy (although the way in which you swept him off his feet was much different—it was hard to beat him in normal fights anyway, but when it came to matters of the heart he was forced to surrender).

Your pure power may have caught his attention at first, but it wasn’t until Shouto spoke to you more and your personality came out that he was truly faced with the fact that he was falling for you hard.

A series of mishaps and a fair share of intervention from the rest of Class 1-A later and you two were miraculously dating and even could finally rest easy—they definitely had their work cut out when it came to getting you two together, but they ultimately bit the bullet because they could not stand the mutual pining and hopeless romanticism that continuously went on between you two.

It may take a while for Shouto to realize that spending the night at each other's dorms is a romantic™ thing couples do and that he should offer that up. That would be a great alternative actually versus the current are arrangement of that whenever you come over to study during the afternoons with him (which quickly turns into night because wow, time sure flies when you're being tortured by textbooks), and once it gets late enough, he comments about what time it is and how both of you should start getting ready for bed—effectively forcing you to leave his dorm. Don't blame him—the thought just never crossed his mind.

It was actually Mina, wanting to pry in on all U.A. relationships and resident sucker for romance, that probably brought the idea to his attention.

Something about asking how you two spent time together turned interrogation when she realized he could be clueless about certain things and made it her personal mission to school him on all things romance.

And then came the question, “So, have you guys had a couple’s sleepover yet?”

“A what?”

“Mina, please stop, just leave the poor guy alone,” came Jirou’s chiding from somewhere in the background. Mina had dragged her along with her for unknown reasons, but Jirou had made it very clear that she did not want to be there, slowly distancing herself from the conversation and discreetly trying to slip away.

While Mina took up arguing with Jirou about the “necessity” of these questions and Jirou facepalming and asking Mina why she didn’t just bring Hagakure (second in command on all things romance) with her, Shouto took the chance to mull over Mina’s words.

“And what does this... ‘couple’s sleepover’ entail exactly?” he interrupted their bickering after a few moments of contemplation and being unable to come up with an answer himself.

Mina absolutely lit up at that and turned to him once again, scuffle with Jirou long forgotten. “I am so glad you asked! Well, first of all-”

“She just means spending the night at each other’s dorms,” Jirou interrupted before Mina could go off on another tangent. Shouto turned to look at Jirou now and found her boredly examining her nails before then switching to nervously clinking the ends of her earphones jacks together when she noticed he was watching her.

“Then why-”

Jirou interrupted him this time. “Why did she call it a ‘couple’s sleepover?’ I don’t know, why don’t you ask Mina herself?”

It only took her a fraction of a second to realize her mistake when Mina opened her mouth to unleash the lengthy explanation she had prepared and Jirou immediately cut her off again before the damage could be done.

“Actually, never mind, don’t ask her. I don’t think I have to explain the sleepover part. Just spend the night doing fun things, like playing games or watching a movie or something, I don’t know. Typical sleepover things. And the couple’s part is because… well, you’re dating aren’t you? Bam, a couple.” She did unenthusiastic jazz hands at that. “Hmm… and I guess that means the sleepover activities will be more romantic than a typical sleepover too.” She scrunched her nose at the idea, not even wanting to imagine what that sort of description would entail.

Mina was getting antsy next to her, desperate to jump into the conversation with her own input and Jirou finally seemed to notice it. “Looks like Mina wants to go-” (“What? No, I don’t-”) “So see you later, Todoroki.” She grabbed Mina’s arm with one hand and gave Shouto a small wave goodbye with her free hand—one that he returned—as she pulled Mina away. “Oh, and don’t worry too much about it,” she said over her shoulder, “It’s literally just spending some time together and you do that already, right? The only difference is that this time it’ll be overnight, so just act natural. It’s not some big fancy event despite what Mina’s name for it might suggest.” And with that the two were gone, disappearing down the hallway in a fit of distant, mumbled bickering about how Mina is no longer allowed to give unsolicited love advice and how Jirou needs to learn the ways of love to truly understand, leaving Shouto all alone with his thoughts, trying to decipher what the fuck just happened.

Truthfully, he was always sad to see you go after a day of hanging out, wishing he could spend more time with you. For some reason he thought that as soon as night came, you deserved to head back to your own dorm for a proper night’s rest. He was just being concerned for your well being, isn’t that what proper boyfriends did? He considered the idea once of what if you spent the night together?, and despite that literally addressing all of his issues from before, he still brushed off the idea because it was preposterous. Shouto, where are your thinking skills???

After a while of back and forth with himself over the wisdom Mina and Jirou had bestowed upon him, he made the decision that next time things would be different.

Another late night study session had you packing up your things once you noticed the blinking alarm clock on Shouto's desk had stuck 11 P.M., the process routine at this point and you no longer waiting for your boyfriend to end the study session himself.

You rose and starting gathering the papers sprawled across his floor into a neat stack in your arms, absentmindedly talking about the things you had to do tomorrow as you went—it was like you were just inputting some closing remarks before calling it a night and Shouto fell easily into the conversation as he slipped stray pens and highlighters back into his pencil case.

You two usually cleaned up amongst the quiet hum of your words—discussing how you felt about the upcoming test, subjects either of you needed more help on next time, and what you were looking forward to eating for breakfast in the morning—but this night had Shouto's eyes straying away from the mess at his feet to you. Your back was to him most of the time, but even when you were facing him as you gathered up your books, your attention was focused on said objects, rather than him.

You guys didn't look at each other much as you cleaned, he realized—it was an obvious observation, but he still had the thought as he watched you, taking note of how this was just the perfect chance to admire you.

When you turned to him at one point though, gaze piercing, he quickly averted his eyes, shifting them to a highlighter that lay in front of him in your general direction, reaching to pick up. He ran his thumb over the smooth, bright yellow cylinder of it as you walked over to him, crouched down, hands planted on his shoulders, and leaned in to brush your lips against his. His eyes fluttered close and he leaned into the kiss, pushing back against you. He moved to deepen it, about to grip onto the fabric of your shirt for leverage, the highlighter rolling out of his grip, but the kiss was over in a matter of seconds and he opened his eyes, finding your smiling face right in front of him. You gave him a brief kiss on his cheek, as though to sign it off, and he had to admit that the heat of your face against his felt nice.

“Night, babe,” you said as you got up and turned to walk over to your bag that lay by the door.

“Night…” Right, that was just one of your normal goodnight kisses. That was also part of the routine but… something about the idea that that was the last kiss of the night didn’t sit right with him.

Shouto studied you once more, tongue in cheek, as he watched you stuff the papers and books you had gathered up back into your bag. The contemplative look never left his eye—it seemed as though you hadn’t noticed his staring from earlier so he was a bit more bold and confident about doing it now—and he almost lost himself to a trance of watching your methodical movements of picking something up from the pile of books you had lain at your feet and slipping them into the bag one by one.

When you slung the bag over your shoulder and moved towards the door, turning back to give him a final wave goodbye, he stiffened, remembering his plan.

“Wait-” He scrambled to his feet as you watched him in confusion, hand already on the doorknob. “Um… do you want to stay the night?” He flinched internally at the unsureness in his voice and straightened up, crossing his arms to create some semblance of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you want to. We don’t have to keep studying. I have a… movie? If you want to watch that together?”

Shouto’s eyes carefully tracked your movements, trying to gauge your reaction.

You tilted your head in bewilderment at the sudden offer, but then you grinned brightly and dropped your bag back at your feet, it landing on the ground with a thud from all of the heavy books inside. “Okay,” you beamed and Shouto was sure he was about to faint.

He followed Jirou’s advice to a T, or at least he tried to. He meant to ask if you wanted to play Monopoly but Kaminari had stolen it from the dorm’s game closet and refused to hand it over because his plans for the night included kicking Sero’s, Kirishima’s, and Bakugou’s asses at the game (Mina was there to be the unbiased banker because the boys were so sure that one of them kept stealing money out of the bank whenever no one was looking and Jirou was just there to bask in the chaos that was sure to ensure—when Mina and Jirou caught sight of Shouto, they both gave him a knowing look).

The loss of the Monopoly board meant you two instead played with the dingy Uno card deck Shouto found buried in his school supply drawer (he was pretty sure it was Midoriya’s and in his mind sent him a silent thank you—as for if he was going to give the desk back or continue “borrowing” it… well, that depended on how much you enjoyed playing with him).

You won three times in a row, but also Shouto seemed to keep getting distracted by something (spoiler alert: it was your smile) and you realized he wasn’t even playing his best cards most of the time so you easily crushed him. You clapped your hands in celebration at every victory and Shouto noticeably increased his speed while shuffling the deck whenever you did that (oh yeah, he was definitely keeping these, sorry, Deku).

You two eventually got around to watching the movie he had brought up before on his laptop, you slotted comfortably under his arm while it hung around your shoulder, and even had a late night snack run per your request (snack run = sneaking into the kitchen and stealing the plate of hot pockets Kaminari was making to supplement his game night—better yet, you made Shouto do the stealing with him timing his crime perfectly and waiting for Kaminari’s back to be turned.)

(You supervised the whole thing by peeking around a hidden corner, barely containing your laughter, and then jumped in to distract Kaminari right when he was about to turn around before quickly taking your leave once Shouto was out of sight. Kaminari’s screams once he realized what had happened could be heard down the hallway as you two rushed back to the elevator, stolen goods secured and you laughing freely.)

(You’re pretty sure you heard Shouto mumble, “How’s that for Monopoly, you electric bitch,” and while you’re honestly not sure what he’s talking about, you support his energy nonetheless.)

Soon it was time to actually sleep and you two were curled up under his blanket, limbs tangled together. You had taken brief naps together before so this wasn’t exactly anything new (even though it was, judging by what a big deal everyone had made of it, including you two), but you found yourself appreciating once again how Shouto was the perfect person to sleep against—he regulated his body temperature exactly how you liked it and you found yourself nodding off to sleep easily in between the quiet whispers about nonsensical late night topics between you two.

The brief concern about your nightmares had completely slipped your mind at this point—you found that short naps meant that they didn’t have much time to strike and since said naps were what you were used to with him, you forgot that this was a full night ordeal. When he had first proposed the idea of a sleepover, you had thought it would be good to have someone else there to comfort you, but then felt guilty about being selfish and wondered if your reaction to the nightmares would scare him off—although you eventually pushed those thoughts to the side because no way would you turn down spending some quality time with your boyfriend, and the night of fun had led to never returning to mull over that internal conflict.

You two fell asleep at some point without even realizing it, peaceful in each other's arms—that is, until a few hours later when disaster struck because of course something just had to ruin your perfect night.

Shouto blearily blinked his eyes open, confused at the sound that reached his ears and brain slow to comprehend what exactly was going on. It took him a moment to suck in a breath to clear his mind and decipher the situation, shifting in place—that is, until his arm brushed against yours and he stilled, mind suddenly clear as it recalled the events of the last hour he had been awake. You were spending the night with him.

Carefully, he sat up, head pounding a little. He brought up a hand to rest on top of his head, fingers curling around his hair and massaging away the beginnings of a headache. And then he heard it again—the sound that had woken him up. A quiet whimper maybe?

He was back to being confused, except now his eyes were darting around the room suspiciously, ready to go on the defensive, especially because you were next to him. U.A. had a proper security system, didn't it? He shouldn't be worried. Although, then again, his mind kept returning to those thoughts of uncertainty and how villains had been able to endanger his classmates time and time again recently.

The shuffling of blankets and a sharp intake of breath had him refocused within a second and he looked down at you. Eyes now adjusted to the darkness, he could make out your face against the backdrop of his pillow, your features twisted into a troubled expression, teeth pulling on your bottom lip. Your hands gripped the blanket in a tight fist, your arms shaking a little.

You continued squirming under the blanket until you eventually kicked most of it off of you, almost as if there was someone there that you meant to hit. Your mouth curled into a silent scream, ragged breaths coming out in huffs as your chest rapidly rose and fell. He could tell you were mumbling now, voice low enough that he couldn't exactly make out what was being said—the syllables coming out in quick bursts and half formed as your focus seemed to jump from topic to topic, each of them bringing you increasing distress.

Shouto had been watching you in horrid fascination, unable to take his eyes off of you as much as his mind screamed at his body to just fucking move, but when a sliver of moonlight coming in from his window—peeking out from behind a gap in the drapes he hadn’t pulled together close enough—caught the glint of tears brimming your eyes, he was quick to react, gripping your upper arm and, as gently as he could while still being firm, shook you. "(Y/N)!" he hissed, not wanting to startle you, "Wake up, please. What's wrong?"

It took a few tries—him wanting to snap you back to consciousness right away, but also afraid of hurting you or making things worse—but before a minute had passed you were coming back to reality, forcing your eyes open as you realized the images plaguing you hadn't been real. You sat up quickly, almost bumping your head against Shouto's (not that you even noticed he was there), your breaths coming hard and fast.

You completely forgot where you were for a moment, just focusing on calming down, and it wasn't until Shouto managed a quiet, "(Y/N)?," concern clearly lacing his voice, that you whipped your head around to face him.

And then your eyes slowly traveled around the rest of the room, recalling where you were. If he hadn't been there, the unfamiliar environment probably would have made you feel alarmed when you came to and make you start wondering if you were stuck in another nightmare again.

You heard Shouto clear his throat as he looked at you curiously, and your eyes snapped back to him. Just the sight of him had your eyes watering and before you knew it, you had flung yourself into his chest, fingers finding purchase in the loose fabric of his shirt.

He easily managed to steady you two from the momentum of you crashing into him and wrapped his strong arms around you, squeezing you to him as you sobbed into his chest.

It would take a little while for him to calm you down and although he was incredibly concerned, he made sure to be the rock you needed and let you take all the time in the world to stabilize yourself.

You would probably be a little embarrassed to tell him about your dream, especially now that you were more lucid, and may even start apologizing for your behavior earlier until he cuts you off because you had every right to react as you did.

After a bit of coaxing, along with you realizing you felt comfortable around him and that you shouldn't worry about him judging you for something as trivial as this, you opened up and told Shouto about your frequent nightmares. He would play with your hands as you talked to let you know it was okay and a silent kiss—soft lips against yours—would confirm that he loved you no matter what.

Shouto wouldn’t mind staying up late into the early hours of the morning with you if you wanted to talk about what you had experienced and may even suggest that you two sneak down to the dorm kitchen and get something to eat and drink (now that was fun—teasing him by pretending to be on a spy mission and forcing him to glance around all of the corners with you, as though you were suspicious about someone catching you? absolutely gold).

Just laying together and talking because you didn’t want to go to sleep would be fine with him, even if you insisted that he should get some rest. He didn’t want you to feel bad about the situation or think that you were a burden, so he did his best to take your mind off of it.

If you wanted to stay up longer, you might watch another movie or even play a few more rounds of Uno (Kaminari, the bastard, still had Monopoly locked in his room for some reason and hadn’t returned it to the game closet—now not to say that Shouto considered leaving an anonymous tip to Iida about the blonde breaking the unwritten rules of the dorm by not returning the game as soon as he was done with it but… yeah, he definitely considered it).

Expect sleepovers to become a lot more common between you two from then on, especially after you admitted that having Shouto there made things a lot more bearable. Whether it be in your dorm or his, both of you were always open to falling asleep in each other's arms whenever the other person asked.

At your next late night hang out session, you two even played Monopoly!

(Shouto had frozen Kaminari’s feet to the ground when he saw him running towards the game closet to snag the game again, and then calmly walked off with his prize after plucking it from the shelf while Kamianri wailed in distress and tried to unstick his feet and pull them free. Shouto couldn’t help but crack a small grin to himself in victory as he walked away.)

Per your request, you two invited some of the other students to play Monopoly because it was always fun with more people (for some reason, Shouto expressly stated that Kaminari was not to be invited and while you were confused, you just shrugged and agreed, even when you heard him say something about forcing the blonde go through “Monopoly withdrawal” as a punishment—you decided not to question him on that point), and a few of those who didn’t want to play just came to watch as well.

(Midoriya was one of those who came to play and while he was glancing around the room, his eyes landed on Shouto’s desk and he squinted in confusion, scrutinizing the little deck he saw tucked in the corner.)

(“Hey, Todoroki, are those my Uno car-”)

(“Nope. Oh look, you just landed on Boardwalk and Uraraka has a hotel there. You only have $200, right?”)

(“Wha- oh, fu-”)

Shouto had to deal with his fair share of nightmares as a child and if you ever want to talk about what the latest disturbing image that had haunted you was, he’ll always be available. In turn, he feels ready to open up about his own fears to you, all while soothing away yours. Talking with him feels natural, just like anything else involving him, and not keeping everything bottled up has definitely helped you more, causing your performance both in class and out in the battlefield to improve.

Your chest definitely feels a lot lighter these days and your dark circles seem to be fading. You probably owe those to your wonderful boyfriend turned portable heater (what? he’s perfect for when you want to take naps and now that he knows about your nightmares during the night, you no longer have to explain to him why you like to sleep so frequently during the day).

Shouto is nothing short of supportive and if there’s anything you ever need to ease the nightmares and lull you off to sleep—whether it be him buying you a diffuser you saw online, getting you a custom sleeping mask, or just you needing him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear and pepper kisses along your temple to help you fall back asleep after being jolted awake again—he’s always there to provide it.

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

Hm

more lengthy aftg meta up ahead

So andreil. Marriage. Complex concept imo

I know this is a bit of a polarizing topic. I gotta say this is one area I agree with Nora on in that I dont see Andrew and Neil being the marrying type. They wouldn't have any desire or urge to get married imo other than potentially for tax or hospital visitation purposes. I just can't see it being something either of them care to bother with unless given a reason.

Personally I like to interpret the whole "there is no this" stuff as eventually evolving from Andrew's desperate denial that he cares for Neil into just being a sort of security blanket? Like I prefer to think he stops saying it or denying it. But I like to believe the general approach to their relationship of not needing to overtly express what they are to each other is more than just a privacy thing or a vulnerability thing. I think for both of them, expression and admition can be a bit restrictive.

Neils been running for a long time, and he doesnt feel the urge to. But the knowledge that he still has the ABILITY to is, I believe, a crucial piece of his coping and recovery. He doesnt feel the need to run partly because he doesnt feel like he's being restrained or threatened with restraint.

And Andrew is letting Neil cross a lot of lines hes never allowed anyone else to cross willingly, sure. But we know he's okay with it specifically because he trusts Neil to back off if given a "no". Its the same concept. No matter how much he trusts Neil, the option to leave is what keeps him feeling safe staying.

Does that mean either of them WANT to leave or will ever consider it? No. Does that mean marriage is something absolutely permanent that you can never back out of? No. But its another restriction. Another layer of complexity. And an unnecessary one at that. At least thats how they'd see it I think.

Marriage is pushed very heavily as something that is just. The Norm. But it doesnt need to be and it absolutely won't be for everyone? These are two deeply traumatized individuals who, even after years of healing, will still be traumatized people. They dont need it and tbh I dont see them particularly wanting it. Unless, like I said, they're comfortable enough after enough years and they decide its better for tax or hospital reasons. So I dont turn my nose up at it completely, but I'm picky.

HAVING SAID THAT I have absolutely thought about it many times and here's how I think it would go:

It would be something they've discussed occasionally. Not really as a possibility. More just a moment after someone they know gets married where they check in with one another to make sure its not something the other is secretly craving. But I think that conversation leads to an understanding that if it WERE to happen, it would just be a quick courthouse situation with minimal witnesses. Neither of them would ever want an actual wedding. Absolutely not. They'd both hate that with a huge passion.

But then maybe one of them gets a pretty serious injury and the other isn't allowed to see them in the hospital right away. Or maybe the Moriyamas decide to up Neils payment and it makes them nervous.

For some reason, they decide it becomes more preferable than remaining unmarried.

It doesnt change anything between them. They don't want it to. But they make a call or two to whatever foxes are closest/can get there the fastest to make sure they can show up at the courthouse with the witnesses they need. They dont hide it from anyone, but they dont outright tell anyone either unless it becomes relevant. So it would travel through the foxes grapevine and theyd probably end up throwing them a small reception party in their apartment at some point, but thats it.

So imagine Wymack and Abby getting a 2am call from Andrew asking them to fly up because Neil got sent to the hospital after a nasty game injury.

"Why is he okay?? Is he gonna make it?"

"Yeah I just need you guys at the courthouse when he gets out to witness me and the dumbass get married so I dont have to sit in the waiting room for 10 hours next time."

Or Aaron and Katelyn getting the call from Neil right after one of them gets off of a long shift.

"Hey we bought you guys some plane tickets out here so you can be our witnesses."

"Witnesses to what?"

"We're getting married"

"Fucking??? Why?"

"Tax reasons"

"Youre both professional fucking athletes"

"We decided its time to save up"

"YOU LIVE IN A FUCKING PENTHOUSE"

"Anyway your plane leaves in 5 hours pack your bags"

My point is that Andreil have been public nuisances for years now and that would absolutely carry into this situation.

[goblinconceivable]

All The Feels

Random bulletpoints of Annie/Jeff analysis because I am overcome with shippiness.  :D  Also more like bullet-lengthy-paragraphs.  You tried, self, you tried.

Pascal’s Triangle (PT) is not a love triangle.  

Sure, look at the top two rows and you’ve got a binary split, ie, choice between two women.  But PT is row based, your current row based on the one above.  It’s complex.  Look below the binary surface of choice to row 3, where it actually becomes PT, where the complexity begins (and Community is about complexity.)  1, 2, 1, a total of 4. The 2 is the merging of the two 1s from row two - Ie, two women who get lumped together.  And beyond them is a 1 that springs out of nowhere - Annie.  Surprise!

Kiss at the end of S1

Jeff’s major deal is being afraid of expressing caring/vulnerability, while desperately craving/needing it.  Britta and Slater were both saying they loved him, and he does want to take that, but runs scared because they are  challenging him to admit his feelings in public, which no one who really knows and cares about him would do.  His scene with Annie is private. And she isn’t asking him FOR anything, she’s just asking what’s up, because she cares about the answer.  He feels safe, he opens up, it’s intimacy, which is both giving and taking.  Notably he admits he’s glad she’s staying after his share, this is him saying he cares about her too.

His explanation of the situation is a perceived choice between being the New Year’s guy (who he wants to be) and the Three Weeks Later guy (who he is.)  But the thing about New Year’s is the initial momentum always fades, and you have to put in the work, which Slater doesn’t help him with.  And he WON’T be able to sustain it on is own.  The guy he IS isn’t who he wants to be, it’s just giving up, rather than striving, even if imperfectly, to reach those goals.  Annie falls into the sweet spot: she understands what his default is, but shows him that he CAN be the man he wants to be, shows him what those steps ARE, encourages him to take the steps to be that person, and rewards him when he succeeds.  Which he does, with her behind him.  

And she kisses him first.  Which is an offering similar to Britta and Slater’s public announcements, but through action, not words.  Jeff uses words as shield and weapon, as did the other two.  Bypassing this essentially shortcircuits his brain.  His brain will warp and analyze and question, but she kisses him gently, an invitation not a demand.  He’s already put aside his sword and shield during their talk, and doesn’t feel the need to pick them up because he feels safe and cared for and is okay accepting and reciprocating that.

Play

Jeff is all adult and aloof and beyond such petty childish pursuits such as play, which is the scoffed at domain of Annie/Troy/Abed.  But he actually really wants it.  It likely stems in part from his loss of a proper childhood, but it’s also just who he is.  Imagination isn’t just for the young, the loss of the ability to play is an oft-bemoaned feature of adulthood, one the learned remind us we ought recapture.  (And a joy of parenthood is getting to do that through your children.)  But look, he literally was playacting being a lawyer.  It’s how he engages with the world.  He just justified that as a means to an end and did it for power and profit, rather than for enjoyment.

We see this, I argue, when responding to Annie’s playacting they were married. Annie anticipates a bad reaction, but he doesn’t give one.  No judgment.  He then establishes it’s not a deeper issue (”do I have to worry about this” ie, is this real/insanity).  When he says “I can tell you one thing your fantasy got wrong...” he’s not challenging her, or even taking offense, and while he’s not entering into her fantasy world (which is over anyway), he’s offering fodder.  He’s involving himself in the narrative process for her benefit.  And in the couched language of daydream he’s reassuring her -if- it was true, he would be devoted.  IF is a super important word in play, because you don’t have to believe, for example, you ARE a pirate.  You just need to act as IF you were a pirate.

Also cute, I take as justified fanon the deleted scene where he orders her appletini.  He was whining to her about it but it was relaxed because they both know he’d do it anyway.  And when the bartender turns out to be a believer in Annie’s created fantasy world, Jeff stops himself from correcting him and destroying the world.  Instead, he lets it persist just far enough to let himself glance at Annie as if it was true, and in that moment he sees her through the eyes of fantasy, and sees a beautiful woman, rather than all the complexity of their relationship.

Then there’s basically all the giant Greendale instances of play.  Which one way or the other, he gets roped into and ends up jumping into with abandon.  (Paintball, lava etc.)  And they’re often paired, because he enjoys playing with her, and the “if this” acts as license for them to explore their compatibility.  And their capers, when they pair up in the “real world”, is really just a sophisticated form of play.  As brought up pointedly when they were searching for the ASB, there’s a dual nature here.  They aren’t just buddies, like Troy and Abed, who are also very fantasy oriented (cardboard submarine!).  There’s a level of daydream beneath the fantasy world where they can set aside the complexities of their relationship, and say “if we’re solving this crime, then we can live in this bubble and just be together.”

I also really love the whole Professor Professorson episode because of course the layers are just so intricate and delightful when they unfold.  He tackles her which was total overreaction, he’s in a heightened world and committed to it.  They plot out this crazy intricate play to teach the Dean a lesson together, where they involve real emotions.  Many of which are Annie’s, but that means they’re creating a world in which it is safe to amplify her feelings which they are both aware of but are usually repressed, especially by Jeff.  And he praises her for that later (she went off book and deceived like a master) rather than being uncomfortable.  They exit play safely because they trust each other while playing and can leave that permissive world as an if.  And it ends with the blanket fort collapsing and cocooning them.  It is a play space literally being broken, begging the question of how much impact our play can have on our real selves.

Season 6

So basically I think I missed fandom the first time around and just binged on meta and there’s (fanon?) that Jeff spent the season looking for her attention, but Annie had pulled back?  I zipped through a bunch of scenes they were in together, and heartily agree.  Also I think I went a little nutty but What I see:

Annie doesn’t ignore him or anything, but where she might have previously inserted herself in his life, she starts to let him fend for himself while she diverts her attention to other relationships, and treats him more like she does the others.  I don’t think she really does anything like taking his class so she can evaluate his teaching and bludgeon him into being better?  But when they’re in a situation, like City College’s ad, she stands up to him as normal, challenging him to be better and do the right thing, as she always has.  Rewards him with approval when he does, and his whispered “thank you” is the cutest thing ever because it’s an intimate choice in a rather boisterous exchange.

Meanwhile Jeff does seem to spend a lot of time and energy trying to get back to a place where he’s first in her eyes.  There are a lot of shots in S6 a the Table and group scenes that involve him looking at her disproportionately, first, last, or only when speaking, esp when they’re all at the table.  When I went back and tried to do the same to S5 those scenes are set up a bit differently and I saw less of it but I think there’s just fewer group scenes in general though?.  In S6, he often ends a comment directed at the group (non table) by looking at Annie, indicating he wants her response, and thus her attention and engagement.  And often, she is the next person to speak.  Which is her personality as a leader, which supports the idea that while he’s seeking her out, she isn’t necessarily responding to that but just being her. 

Finale

I’ve sort of run myself dry thinking through other things.  And great analysis is plentiful and most recent.  So not even bullet points just ramble But:

Oh3, so when Garrett proposed and Abed noted Jeff had a funny look, he’s been daydreaming marrying Annie for that lone plus longer?  That took me a long time to put together as an actual literal thing.

Oh2, it’s all canon that he has issues with prolonged eye contact because he doesn’t want people to see him broken and he doesn’t break eye contact through any of this.  He knows she knows he’s broken already and is quietly fine with her seeing everything and this is a moment for *sobs*

Oh wait hey, so callback to that bit where she’s like “your words don’t mean anything” and he’s like “That’s what conversation is, people saying things to get stuff.”  Because he’s 100% not trying to get anything by telling her he’s let her go.  And he means a lot by saying it.  And if he said “I love you” there’s an implied sense of obligation to say it back and since he means romantically he can’t do that.  So this is just him letting her know, no pressure, no expectation, that he loves her and has loved her but it’s okay because she’s free and he wants her to be free because he loves her.  And he means it so hard when she says “kiss me goodbye” he’s all “you don’t owe me anything.”

But she does love him too, except she knows she’s in a different place emotionally and professionally.  And it’s sweet and a gift because she doesn’t make this about her but about him and his feelings.  So she preempts his regrets because she knows he WON’T kiss her goodbye unless she invites him to.  There’s something I’m reaching for and can’t find here.  She doesn’t admit to anything because there’s no point?  It would just hurt him either way?  Sharing her feelings through action rather than words?

And so much squee thinking how far everyone’s come for this scene to be a thing which could happen.

Callback to Annie’s marriage fantasy when Jeff has his own.  Hers was external, by her personality (esp at the time of her maturation) and thus public and psychologically working out a reasonable feeling of abandonment as she gave their fictional selves marital difficulties.  His is very internal, and occurs after Abed, always so reliable as a gateway to fantasy, turns the tables on him.  He’s experiencing reasonable feelings of abandonment, and while he runs, it’s to a safe space of “what if,” a coping mechanism he has learned, and which allows for working out of psychological issues.  

It’s dual: in that the larger issue is his need for a sense of stability.  Though he’s staring at the table the scene doesn’t involve Greendale at all, he already had that fantasy.  This is about wanting a life outside of the safe zone of the college.  And while he suggests a dog as an option he imagined a kid because having one represents stability for him - it was his father who left, and he won’t leave.  If there’s a kid, this is a life, Annie can’t leave.  But he offers her imaginary self complete editing powers, because all he really wants is to be able to love and be loved.  It’s indulgence, a desperate grasp at balm because while he let her go, he can’t let her -go.-  He was okay with being close friends, they do love each other as friends.  See his pitch.  But faced with losing that, he’s stripped bare.  He indulges in his supressed hearts desire and is faced with the reality of what he already knows: it’s not in the cards.

And he’s stripped down to insecurities that aren’t limited to Annie.  It’s cute how they jive over Marvel, though it’s weird to me and takes up more time and weird dramatic looking around that doesn’t feel playful enough to be justified.  The tone of their voices is too serious, it’s a mismatch.  I like how he admits the huge thing that he let her go as far as he has control, and suddenly a time pressure is on their alone time.  Everything is immediate right now, everything happening fast.  I wonder what Annie would have said if not for the text.  But that’s the thing, it’s the wrong time for them and this is a goodbye.  It’s too late but just under the wire all at once.

In this chapter at least.  In the safety of the group Annie brings up a season 7, which we all know could happen years down the line.  Would have been more fitting if she said movie though.  Still, he takes that as the comfort in which it was intended.

WTF with his all coed season 7?  Yes, we cut to it so it totally isn’t happening, but has he put his issues to rest and is just fantasizing crap or what?  It makes no sense to me.

I love that he not only puts her first after she invites him to kiss her goodbye by asking “what about you,” but is -asking for consent.-  He doesn’t even move towards her until he gets it, he’s literally just standing back.  What’s up with the penis thing?  Meta reference to shortcut arguments that it’s not true love but lust?  Is it Jeff acknowledging his own cynicism and how he’s dropped it?  Since he’s so clearly not in a lust mode here.  Is he adding a tiny bit of his usual pointed add ins to his speeches?

I guess it’s like...  this is one of his speeches, but it feels out of place because of his delivery?  Which is beautifully subdued and resigned and honest and just defeated, but defeated in the sense that he defeated all the barriers he still keeps around himself.  

and goodbye hug and kiss at the airport.

[randombtsprincessa]

Bold

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jung Hoseok x Kim Seokjin 

Words: 4.1k

Genre/Rating: Smut/fluff (NC - 17)

Prompt: 2seok with bad boy Jin (think tattoos, motorbikes, intimidating af but rescues kittens type) and model student shy and sweet Hoseok.

Warning: Clubbing, social drinking, mentions of drunken sex, tattoed blond Jin, flirting, LGBTQ+ fic, MxM fic, bad father, bad childhood mentions, volunteering work, kissing, blowjob in a garage, unprotected oral (male receiving) [be safe folks].

A/N: The following work is a part of @ficswithluv ‘s amazing project Change With Luv. It was commissioned by the lovely Ducky ( @diedinwarofhormones​ ) Thank you for the commission and let’s hope the donation helps bring about some really needed reforms! It is my very first mxm fic so please be a little lenient in judgement and I kept the smut not very explicit just in case (also because I exceeded the word limit shhh) so yeah. I hope you enjoy! Please do check out the project to help bring some change to the world and art to the world! 

Now, do welcome the gif that brought together the last scene of the fic!

In life, there are three sets of people who go hand in hand.

There are the people who are completely alike, do everything together, share hobbies and end up being the ‘goals’ that are usually portrayed on every hyped up couples instagram.

There are people who seem to just mesh well, go about in their personal bubbles as things either go well or not.

And then…there are the people who are nothing alike. They are poles apart, one league away from each other.

Yet, they are brought closer and closer to each other and gel together in a manner that astounds the people surrounding them.

Or so Jung Hoseok had read somewhere; in a book, maybe in his adolescence, in those past teen years that seem like a dream.

He was grown up now, in college and while he had kept on the rosy tint in his cheeks, he had shed off most of his earlier romantic notions.

After all, college was a step forward towards the future he craved desperately. And he worked hard for it, to graduate and then carry on further into a blissful, stress free life.

So, when he came in touch with the circle in which Kim Seokjin moved, well…

All those ideals and notions came back like a sucker punch.

To be very honest, a club scene where there was too much light but nothing could be seen, where a bass thumped that irritatingly made you feel like you had a second heartbeat, too many sweaty bodies that merged, collided to a rambling beat and alcohol that cost half a days’ worth income – even on a campus ground, was not to Hoseok’s taste.

However, his best friend Namjoon had dragged him out of his room this time, screaming, wailing, and crawling – for once to pry Hoseok away from those chemistry books that still had equations pounding in his cranium.

Many minutes after arriving at the party, Namjoon had disappeared.

Hoseok had no idea where; if there was someone who was more shy, nerdy or awkward than him…it was Kim Namjoon.

He hoped he was getting laid somewhere, that way he’d be much less annoyed when Hoseok inevitably left to go home.

He turned his torso around to the crowd, and although he could see absolutely nothing clearly, he tried, he really did.

He reached up, straightened onto the bar stool so he could look over the multiple heads. Most of the flashing lights glinted against his glasses, blinding him and he sighed. Slumping back, he admitted defeat, looking along the length of the bar.

Maybe he should order another drink?

It wasn’t midnight just yet. He could make it till 12 and then slip away. After all, if Namjoon was around and…not otherwise occupied, he would come over so they could both go back to the dorm.

They both had early and lengthy classes for god’s sake.

As he stretched out a hand, to attract the bartender’s attention, he saw him.

The angle the man sat at made it impossible for him to get a clear look at his face. However, it was easy to discern the hunch of his shoulders, too wide, clad in a smooth leather jacket that exploded rainbows whenever a streak of light bounced off of the man.

Deep blond hair ruffled on top of the head and he could barely make out the hints of a neck tattoo.

The bartender soon came over to take his order and after refilling the drink, Hoseok decided that he could stay a bit more, just to see what the stranger looked like maybe.

“Buddy, take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Hoseok started, the rim of the glass jolting against his teeth at the move as the man turned his head to look at him head on, one dark eyebrow quirked.

Suffice it to say, the man was breathtaking.

The soft blond hair accentuated the poufy lips of the man, glistening wet from the alcohol. The leather jacket showed off a swimmer’s body, a silver clasp at his thin waist.

Hoseok was tempted to think that this man put his last boyfriend to shame.

“I’m sorry; I must’ve just stared at you. I was zoning out.” Hoseok excused himself.

“Don’t worry about it.” The man grinned, leaning forward so he would be audible. “You here with someone?”

“My roommate…he’s disappeared.”

The stranger nodded, taking a swig from his glass. “Yeah, that happens around here. If you wanna zone out a bit more, feel free but only cause you’re cute.”

Hoseok’s mouth fell open at the flirting, gaping like a fish as the man grinned yet again, this time feral.

“I…I wasn’t…”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it, pretty boy.”

The man was taking the final gulp, placing the glass next to Hoseok, along with a couple bills under the glass. “Buy yourself a drink from me, would you?”

Hoseok could only stare at the glass and money, still shocked at the bold advance of a complete stranger.

“Oh and hey pretty boy,”

Hoseok turned to look at the exiting male.

“Next time, I’m gonna start charging.”

He turned after that, not hindered by any of the swirling bodies in his path, leaving Hoseok to wonder if maybe he should’ve gotten the name of the man, or at least given his own.

“You’re, like, not even listening to me.” Namjoon snapped Hoseok’s attention towards himself, a pen tapping insistently against his notebook.

“Yes I am,” Hoseok immediately defended but it was too late.

Namjoon had already shoved the study materials that were strewn across the table to one side, both arms coming up to cradle his head. “Go on, purge.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, I swear.” Hoseok could hear the defensiveness in his own voice and while it was partly true, he knew he would have to cave in the face of his best friend.

“Fine…I met this guy at the club party a couple nights ago.”

Namjoon stared.

“The one you left me alone at.”

That seemed to jog his memory, causing a delicate sheen of plum to spread along his cheeks. “I said I was sorry, I mean...I saw Taehyung and he looked like –,”

“A dream, yes, I got that.” Hoseok stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the slightly…enormous crush that Namjoon harbored towards the popular junior.

“You didn’t tell me about this guy though,” Namjoon continued.

What was there to tell? Yes, he’d conversed briefly with an absolute stranger for not more than five minutes. Yes, he had never felt this wildly attracted to anyone before. At least, not so much that warranted mooning over him for more than a day. He also knew that there was a good chance that he would never run into him again.

He didn’t even know his name. There was nothing tying the both of them.

Unless he wanted to end up like Namjoon, in a puppy love with a guy he was too scared to talk to, he’d have to move on.

After all; Hoseok thought back to the sleek black lines that ran along the man’s skin, the tight leather that clung to him, smelling of liquor that was alluring in its own right; he was someone Hoseok would not usually find himself associated with.

He was probably a patented bad boy, and Hoseok well…he was model student.

“You just flaked on me again, bro.” Namjoon poked his arm.

“Sorry, so, you didn’t get laid that night then? Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I kind of did; but I don’t know if you can call it that. The chick and I both were pretty smashed and all I could think about was Taehyung’s --,”

“No thanks, I don’t need that imagery in my head.” Hoseok interrupted with a sharp flutter of his hands, raising them to cover his ears.

Namjoon broke out laughing, before shaking his head. “So, do you know anything about this mysterious man of yours?”

“No, but I do know, we have a test tomorrow, so let’s get back to work, shall we?”

Yes, he did know one thing. It was to never hold true to ideals about anything. Somehow they always got smashed to pieces.

Hoseok had been right to let go of past ideals as he grew up.

He was sitting in the café, books open as he checked the answers to his test. A smooth cream latte sat near his hand with a plate of the café bakery’s special made chocolate chip cookies. Hoseok and Namjoon being regulars meant the staff knew their preferences and it was a god send when the both of them would stumble in, bleary and hazy from their workload to a ready steaming cup and some desperately needed sugar.

He had attempted to put away thoughts of any blonde men that may have crossed his path to solely worry about how chemistry worked in anatomy and it had somewhat paid off, if only all his answers mirrored the ones in his notes.

So, when he heard that same voice, calling out from the wide open door that had haunted him for the past few days, he had to look up.

In the daylight, if possible The Stranger looked much more beautiful than what the club lights paid homage to. He was awfully tall and broad, the same leather jacket and belt still wrapped around him, only this time, he had a helmet clasped under an arm and his hair was mussed from probably being trapped under it.

Big boots thudded, as Hoseok watched the man make his way to the counter, a hard smile ready for the counter worker who clearly stuttered in talking with him, while boxing up a few things.

Must be another regular; Hoseok thought back if he had ever seen him around but glossed over him. Nothing came to mind, even as the man slid over his payment before grabbing the handles of the bag, laughing at something the barista said.

Sensing that he was about to turn about, Hoseok looked down quickly, nearly burying his face behind the book.

He prayed; eyes closed that he hadn’t been caught. While he had hoped for another sight of his stranger, Hoseok hadn’t accounted for what he would do if it did happen. All the times, he’d imagined meeting up in his daydreams, they always stopped short when it came to a response on his part.

“…hey, it’s you.”

Hoseok gulped, wondering why he wasn’t invisible as he looked up, caught in the dark gaze of The Stranger again.

“It is you. Remember me?” The man tilted his head, shifting the helmet in his arms.

“Oh…yeah, in the club, of course,” Hoseok’s voice shook, hands dropping the book to the table as he worked hard to form coherent sentences.

The man’s eyes flashed to the books, grinning with those teeth flashing. “You’re a student.”

There was no room to deny it even as Hoseok chuckled. “Yeah, what about you?”

“Oh I’m done. I just hang about now.” He lowered his voice as if admitting to a mock crime and after a deep breath, Hoseok let out a much more relaxed grin.

In the light, it was easier to tell how different they really were. He was leather-clad, motorcycle helmet laden. Hoseok was wearing a knit sweater and simple jeans and sneakers, a school bag at his feet and his books strewn about a table.

Worlds apart…

Hoseok was someone easy to approach, to talk to, while this man was obviously not someone who anyone would go to first. However, even with the dark aura that hung about him, the way he talked, to ease Hoseok up, revealed something much softer beneath him.

“Speaking of which, I need to go. I will see you around I guess.” The man said.

Your name - give him your damn name, Hobi.

“My name is Hoseok. I forgot to mention it last time.” He said quickly.

The man paused in opening the door, a quirk to his lips. “I’ll remember that.”

And he was gone, with Hoseok watching his walk to a Harley parked nearby, straddling it as he put on the helmet. The Stranger hadn’t afforded Hoseok his own name…

Maybe they were too different. And maybe Hoseok wasn’t the only one who was aware of that fact.

Even if - Hoseok thought as he stared at the boy sitting opposite him - he wasn’t the only one who knew how different their lives were, neither seemed too intent on cutting their losses just at the moment.

Hoseok hadn’t timed himself, he swore up and down that the reason he was frequenting the café more and more was the increased need for coffee and not the need to catch an elusive Seokjin, whose name he’d caught only accidentally when the barista called for his order.

However, now here they were sitting across from each other.

He was still just as intimidating at first glance, a cold tilt to his head at anyone who he didn’t favor approaching him. A light scoff followed whenever he overheard something particularly obnoxious and rough looking fingers that Hoseok couldn’t help but want to touch.

He was in too deep, he figured. His mind had compartmentalized the raging crush he harbored for the new and exciting addition to his world but he knew that amidst his straight As and glowing recommendations, Jin would not only not sit well, but also appear…unsavory.

And Hoseok absolutely, blissfully, just didn’t care.

He had had a bad childhood, Seokjin had told him. A rich father, who had abandoned his family to ‘fuck about’ as he put it, with packets of money deposited for their upkeep but Jin didn’t touch it.

His mother had paid through the money in a trust after he had graduated in business but instead of putting his degree to use, he’d started working in a garage, now partner in it.

That explained the motorcycle, Hoseok had joked while Jin had only shrugged.

“I also volunteer a lot of my free time. My mom, well, I love her but she’s got her own life now…and she puts all of my father’s money in the trust still so I don’t have to bother her about anything. I don’t think she enjoys having a reminder of my dad around anyway.”

All Hoseok could do was nod his head sadly at him.

So when Seokjin offered to show Hoseok about the volunteering he did, he jumped at the opportunity. He had a chance to see what the man really was like under the façade of the cool bravado and Hoseok could feel intrigue tingling at his fingertips.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Seokjin took him to an animal shelter first, filled with puppies with big eyes, kittens that purred and curled up under their chins, bigger dogs and cats that were soft to touch and clearly abandoned and starved for loved. There were birds too, brightly colored and some wild and a couple of pigs and horses. Each animal that Jin visited seemed to love him, curling under his touch, molding them to him.

The next place they visited was a children’s library. A large group of toddlers shrieked when they saw him, swarming up to him and begging for a story. Hoseok watched with a bemused smile for an hour as Jin made animal and vehicle noises to entertain the spellbound kids.

When finally, they visited a retirement home, it was then that Hoseok saw the brief haunted look behind Seokjin’s eyes. It was just a glance, as he wiped an old woman’s mouth as she chuckled motherly at him, the rice that clung to her chin not fazing Jin in the slightest.

“It’s like having a family of my own.” He whispered as Hoseok put a hand to his shoulder, still hesitant.

“You miss them.”

“I do, but I would rather do this than let them be burdened by my presence again.”

“Maybe, they don’t feel that way.”

Seokjin didn’t reply to that, instead standing with a lovable smile to the lady who waved goodbye. “I’ll drop you off at your dorm.” He said.

His voice scared Hoseok. There was an air of finality there, as if he knew he’d shown Hoseok much more than was necessary. More than he needed to, to a guy who he probably wouldn’t see much of in the future.

“I’m not ready to go just yet.”

Hoseok knew he sounded desperate but there was nothing he could do. He had to accept his reality.

Seokjin turned with a curious look, puzzled at the heaviness in Hoseok’s voice before smirking. “Then there’s one more place I can show you. Let’s grab some dinner first.”

“This is amazing.” Hoseok whispered, awed as Jin flicked on light switches.

When Jin had said he was going to take him to his garage, Hoseok expected something like a shed, greased and metal barred. This was, this was sleek, all black steel and huge lights swinging from the ceiling.

“I spent a good deal of dad’s money on this. Hence, why I got the partnership, I saved the place from sinking. The upscale décor brings in some solid clients so, I guess you could say my sense of style did the job.” Jin kicked at a few strewn crates, turning to throw a wink at Hoseok.

Hoseok looked down at the remnants burger in his hand, biting the piece down into his mouth so as to not answer.

He watched, surreptitiously as Jin undid the jacket, removing his arms from the leather sleeves to reveal an extremely thin white tank top that sent a swoop down Hoseok’s throat, settling somewhere in his gut.

Jin turned; pausing Hoseok’s ogling at his muscled back as he stretched out his arms over his head, a thin strip of his stomach showing.

Hoseok swallowed loudly, the bite of burger going the wrong path and he broke out in coughs.

“Hey, what…” Seokjin laughed, pulling out a water bottle from a mini fridge to pass it to the wheezing boy. “Calm down, pretty boy. I know the burger’s good but eat slowly.”

Hoseok pulled the bottle away, eyes still watering.

This was too much; here he was, Hoseok, a nice kid who tried to steer clear from all sorts of ‘trouble’ and he was here with Kim Seokjin, someone who people would say embodied trouble.

And what was he doing?

Why, all he wanted was Seokjin to ram against him on the surface of one of the cars of course.

He was worse than Namjoon.

“I think…I should go.” Hoseok stuttered, casting his eyes down. This was it, the final time he put himself in the path of such temptations. Jin would never look twice at someone like him. He was in way over his head.

“Hey pretty boy,”

Hoseok looked up at Seokjin, who now stood too close to his face, blond hair hanging in his eyes, lips pulled into his teeth.

“Tell me something, why are you so scared of me?” Jin asked.

Hoseok blinked, all previous concerns evaporating. “Wait, what…? I’m not scared of you.” He said, conviction strengthening his voice.

“Really,” Jin moved in, eyes dropping to the way Hoseok chewed on his bottom lip. “So, why do you keep pulling away? You stare at me, flirt with me, hold on to me on the bike, but when I bring you here and when we’re alone for too long you withdraw.”

Hoseok thudded back against something and Jin took advantage, lifting his hands and putting them on either side of his body, caging him in.

“I’m…I’m not scared of you.” Hoseok sighed, giving in. “I’m scared of well, my feelings, as cliché as it seems.”

“Why?” Seokjin asked smoothly.

“Because we’re so different; I mean you’re a rich kid who acts like a bad boy but is so kind and sweet under all that toughness and I’m…I’m a good sweet boy who would never - never be able to keep up with someone like you. I’m putting myself up for disappointment when you realize it too.”

Seokjin stared at Hoseok, hard and deep. He looked almost angry – dangerous...gorgeous.

“You know what I realized actually?” He asked. There was a pleasant lilt to his tone but Hoseok could feel the undercurrents of a threat to it.

He leaned in, making Hoseok press himself to the wall, his body almost vibrating from the proximity.

“I realized that you’re exactly the kind of person who can keep up with me. I realized that it doesn’t matter if we belong to different circles. I realized that I should probably kiss you right now because you might be a grade-A kid but baby, you’re fucking stupid.

Hoseok had no time to even draw a full breath. Jin had reared back and then slammed Hoseok back again. The hands that Hoseok had dreamed of touching now gripped his cheeks, Jin’s mouth fully on his, swallowing the surprised squeaks he embarrassingly let out.

Seokjin chuckled against his lips, pulling back just enough to nip at his chin. “Fuck, I should’ve done that in the club.”

Hoseok reached forward to tug Jin back, taking over the kiss this time as he delved into the older boy’s mouth, tasting the soda on his tongue.

“Not a complete good boy, then.” Jin commented, reaching back to tug off the tank.

Hoseok lounged against the wall, idly tracing over the tattoos that ran over Jin’s exquisite body. “What do they mean?” He asked as Jin tugged off Hoseok’s shirt too.

Jin paused, glancing down at his torso.

“This,” he raised his arm. “A compass to point me in the right direction,” He moved to his shoulder. “The lion to keep me strong and brave,” he smirked suddenly, grabbing Hoseok’s hand and placing it against the burning skin of his chest. “The tree keeps me kind and nurturing.”

Hoseok met Jin’s gaze, running his hand down to his belt, fiddling with the clasp.

“Wait,” Jin stopped him, shoving his hand away. “This is about you. Let me take care of you tonight.”

“What do you mean, oh,” Hoseok’s voice pitched higher as Jin fluidly sank to his knees in front of him. Deft, nimble fingers undid the buttons and zipper on his jeans, pulling the band and the underwear down to free his gorged shaft.

“Fuck,” Jin and Hoseok both let out as Jin swept his hands against the soft skin. He was hard, Hoseok marveled, hard enough to drip over Jin’s palms which he smeared back onto his skin to make the slide easier.

A loud moan escaped Hoseok’s parted lips when Jin engulfed him, first the tip and then most of his length. He jolted, head falling back as his hips pushed forward on their own volition.

Jin kept his eyes on him, a smirk straining his lips at the vulnerable stance of the lithe man. While he would usually be on the receiving end of this, there was something so sexy, so erotic about watching a man lose it over head as he throated as much as he could.

Hoseok meanwhile fumbled with his hands, alternating between fisting his own hair and tugging at Jin’s to further lower himself into the heat of his cavern. If he knew this was what he would be missing out, there would’ve been no way he would have agonized over it for this long.

Seokjin continued moving, squelching sounds echoing throughout the empty garage that sounded so wonderfully taboo, Hoseok nearly came right there. The thrill of it; the way someone could walk right in, catch them with Seokjin sucking him deep into his mouth caused his eyes to roll back.

“That’s it, pretty boy. Come for me.” Jin coaxed from below and before he could catch his breath, his throat closed up, his body hunching when Jin pulled him back, and the tip of his cock brushing the back of his throat, deeper still.

With an almost pornographic groan, Hoseok unloaded himself into Jin’s throat, his lover keeping him in till he was fully empty.

Jin pulled away from him, color flaming high in Hoseok’s cheeks at the wet sound that echoed through the near empty garage.

All he could do was fall into the surprisingly sweet kiss that Jin pressed to lips, the taste of him mingling in his own mouth. Jin handed him his shirt with an impish grin.

“Next time,” he pulled Hoseok in by the waist. “I’m going to make you pay for ‘zoning out’ in the club.”

[imma-lil-teapot]

TMNT 2003/2K3 Headcanon: Crying - (Raphael)

Feel free to scroll past this first part if you’re not interested in my silly rambling and nonsense. I won’t mind. Promise. ;)

Alrighty then, lockdown has officially started here. :/ *Unenthusiastic streamers fly* Oh well, look what we have all the time in the world for: WRITING! *Enthusiastic streamers fly* Not too much extra to add in this regard since the last headcanon (thanks a bunch for the likes btw, guys :D ), so I guess we’ll just get right into it. :)

Please bear in mind that I’m SUPER rusty! Haven’t written in ages so there are bound to be typos and all matter of general errors scattered throughout the post. Don’t pet them! They bite!  

Anyhoo~ Despite attempting to create and share with the goal in mind to uplift spirits, I decided to start on a rather upsetting subject (PLEASE DON’T LEAVE! They end on happy notes ;) ) because, Imma just come and say it, I enjoy seeing my favourite characters shed tears (not for just any old reason -their personality plays a huge role in this- and CERTAINLY not for sadistic reasons, land sakes no! But… well, you’ll see~ ;) ) It makes me all gooey and fuzzy inside to see them display such raw emotion and I just wanna leap into the TV screen to hug and console them. I dunno why. Maybe I’m nuts like that. (Remembers Raph crying at the farm when Leo was badly injured and wishes she could just hug them all and take away the pain) Oh well, if you enjoy visualizing the same, then *High Fives*. :)

So yeah, if you read the title, you’ll know this is based on the 2003/2k3 series (my favs). Hope you all enjoy~ :D Grab tissues cause sad turts ahead! :’(

Jibber jabber stops here~

TURTLES~

LEONARDO

RAPHAEL - You are here

DONATELLO - Coming soon

MICHELANGELO - Coming soon

WARNING(S): Because of the subject, Angst and Hurt/Comfort will be present.

RATING: G (General)

WORD COUNT: Uhhh... *Shrugs shoulders*

ANYTHING ELSE TO ADD:

Well, you’re just gonna have to scroll down to find him, Master Splinter. ;) I really didn’t know what to add so... *Shrugs* And look at da squishy Turtle Tots, dey so cuuuuute!!! <3 

TO THE HEADCANONS~~~~

~RAPHAEL~

– With his infamous hotheadedness and quick capacity for battle, it’s of course natural at first for one to expect Big Bad Raphie-Boy to be completely opposed to the very thought of crying. He is the resident ‘tough guy’ after all.  

– However, this notion couldn’t be farther from the truth: sure, he can be brash, quick to temper and lash out at those that give him enough incentive to, but underneath that rockhard exterior beats the heart of a real softie, and when something truly upsets that tender muscle, you can bet Mr. Hothead’s not going to try too hard to keep the tears at bay. 

– He’s as passionate as he is headstrong, and reining in such powerful emotions proves to be difficult at most times for him, so out of the four of them, and given the right circumstances, Raph can be surprisingly easy to get the tears flowing.

-- He’s no crybaby by a long shot, mind you, but he also knows that holding back on the waterworks is pointless and makes one just feel worse in the long run. If you’re going to cry, just cry. Simple as that. 

-- Like all of his brothers, Red can’t handle the thought of losing any of his family and close friends. It tears him apart inside and he’ll desperately attempt to protect and prevent anything terrible from happening to them, but when it does, he’s an emotional wreck and doesn’t always know how to handle his distress.  

– His initial reaction is to be by their sides before becoming outraged, and depending on the different situations, it’s not uncommon for him to also nag and pass remarks at the injured brother(s). It’s the only real way of expressing his fear of losing them before dampness starts forming in his eyes.

– Despite his tough guy front, he’s not against crying in front of his family and friends at all. He knows his place and doubts a few tears will have them seeing  him in a different light, particularly his father/master and brothers for they’ve seen the worst in him on many occasions. 

– It’s only when a particularly harsh meltdown wishes to happen does Raph choose to spare them the sideshow; he knows it’s not a pretty sight, so before the sniffling begins, he leaves the Lair and heads topside for some much needed air.

– He chooses the nearby rooftops as his destination; the ideal location to let go of the ever building waves of raw emotion that continue to grip at his chest, and by the time he makes it up the fire escape ladder, he spares little time letting out a rough growl in frustration, kicking an air vent a couple of times for good measure.

 -- With some rage and frustration now out of his system, he heads on over to the brick wall and turns his back to it, roughly sliding down into a sitting position and exhales a dismal sigh. As he subconsciously replays the earlier events through his mind, he finally allows the next phase of his sorrow to surface unbridled. 

-- He dolefully holds his head in one hand and balances it on a single knee pad as the tears now begin to flow freely.

– They instantly soak into his mask, and he grits his teeth as he feels the surges of emotion wrack his entire body. He doesn’t characteristically whimper or sob when crying, but he coughs a lot, and his nostrils leak like a faucet, forcing him to frequently sniff and snort just in order to breathe. This is the very reason why he refuses to really break down in front of the the others; not because of his tenacity, but because he simply finds the whole affair gross. His family certainly didn’t need to hear him constantly hacking up a lung and sounding like an untuned trumpet every time he blew his nose.

– The episode doesn’t last too long, though, much to his delight, and after some more thorough nasal clearing, Raph then wipes at his still somewhat wet eyes and mask before drawing out another -now exhausted- sigh. 

-- He’d begin gradually twirling a single sai around whilst he collected his thoughts. It felt more natural to keep his hands busy than have them being static when he was feeling this way. As his demeanor altered, so did the actions he performed with it.  

– He wouldn’t return to his family just yet for there was still some brooding left to be done... At least that was what he’d convinced himself he was doing. He wanted a clear head when he returned so for now, he’d remain in place on the rooftop in the crisp air with the city bursting with life just below him. 

-- He had to admit, it was certainly the best place for him to be with his thoughts. Comforting in fact. A true New Yorker at heart.

BONUS EXTRA~

– Aside from having everyone special to him perish, one of Raph’s greatest fears is his inability to fully control his own temper. On more than one occasion has it gotten out of hand and thus resulted in him injuring his own brothers, and it had shaken him to the core each time. 

– He’s come to the realization that he is his own worst enemy when it comes to reigning in his own inner rage, and it uneases him immensely that it could happen again and he’s fully aware that the probability is higher than he cares to admit. The more he concerns himself with it, the more it upsets him and thus, the tears of frustration start. 

– Fortunately, his bros are there for him and can tell when he’s feeling low about it. They know the best course of action is to have a light-hearted conversation about it with him and offer their reassurances... With Mikey of course adding his own two cents on the matter in his unique Mikey style, which usually involves poking fun at his brother in red and causing Raph to go from broody to enraged in record breaking time. Just how it should be.

– Not only is Raph A-okay with crying himself, but he’s often first on the emotional support committee to offer the shoulder of comfort to his friends, amazingly enough, and he’s actually pretty decent at it too. Though, not for absolutely everyone; he has his limitations when he knows someone’s really just blubbering for attention.

– He wasn’t always so accepting of shedding tears, though: as a very young Turtle Tot, he often thought of it as being too ‘babyish’ for him to do and thus despised it whenever something happened to cause him to tear up. 

– It took Master Splinter a rather surprisingly lengthy amount of time to change his perception of crying. No amount of explanations on how it was a perfectly natural expression of emotion would sway his son. 

– It got so out of hand that Raph would be in utter denial about crying right in front of his father, even while the latter would be staring at his tear-stained face directly in front of him. “M‘not cryin’,” the little Turtle would sniff. “Cryin’s fah sissies.” 

-- Splinter could only sigh and shake his head as he knelt down to embrace his son. When could he feel that Raphael would not fight the closeness, he’d give him the same lecture again, and Raph would finally succumb to his emotions and sob into his father’s robe whilst Splinter comfortingly rubbed his shell.

-- He could only guess that his words finally got through to his son for ever since that day, Raph’s entire attitude had altered for the better on the subject.

BONUS EXTRA EXTRA FEMALE READER OR S/O EDITION~ (Can also use an OC/FC insert if you wish, up to you)

From the moment you entered the Lair, you could clearly see something was up; Mikey was nursing an obvious wrist injury with a bag of frozen peas and hovering around Donny’s work area, complaining about the swelling to the purple-banded Turtle, who appeared to be paying little attention towards his ‘younger’ sibling as his back was turned.

"Hi, (Y/N).” 

You visibly jumped at the voice behind you and briskly turned, only to meet Leonardo’s placid form, and he swiftly apologized for the start. 

After the formal greeting, you gestured with a thumb in confusion at the former scene with an added, “Do I want to know?”

The leader’s facial features altered to a more serious aspect. “The end result of testing Raph’s patience,” he offered, which instantly had you more than a little concerned. Sure, Mikey could come off as being annoying, but to go so far as to physically harm him? 

“Are you sure it’s not worse than ‘just a sprain’?” You overheard the injured brother asking Donny, whose focus remained on a contraption of sorts you couldn’t quite make out on his desk.

“Yes, Mikey, you’ll live,” he responded with just a hint of weariness. “But no swinging your nunchucks around for a coupla days,” which was met with a typical whine in response from his patient. 

“It’s really not as bad as he makes it out to be,” Leo then added, turning your attention back towards him. Though you didn’t express it, you were grateful to hear the good news.

"Where is he now?” 

“Topside most likely.” Of course. It didn’t surprise you in the least that Raph had chosen to head there and you quickly set a course for the surface. “Need an escort?” The leader in blue offered, to which you politely declined. You knew he needed no further explanation. 

As you pushed back the manhole cover and made your way towards the nearest fire escape ladder, you were unable to put aside the various speculations as to why your special Turtle would hurt his own brother... Well, you would be kidding yourself to say you didn’t have at least one very plausible theory in mind, but as you neared the top of the ladder, the guesswork was instantly dropped and replaced with trepidation for you knew how Raph felt about injuring family. 

To put it simply, you were going to be dealing with a very dejected Turtle, and true to form, as you peered over the top of the building, the iconic emerald green hide and red mask tails met your sight. 

This was Raph’s favorite spot to gather his thoughts after all, so it was a no-brainer decision to begin the search there, and it was clear as day that it was exactly what he was doing for he made no effort to acknowledge your presence as he remained seated against the wall in a slouching position and gaze locked out front. 

As expected, he appeared to be moping. “Hey, Raphie,” you greeted, clambering over the wall. 

You were unable to tell if he had been aware you were nearby for he made no prior indication but instead merely replied with a gloomy, “’Sup, Kiddo?” No movement whatsoever. 

It amused you whenever he chose to refer to you by that nickname, especially since you were both the same age, but as you ambled on over towards him, you were left anything but amused as your former notion was set in stone when you caught the telltale signs of wet stains under his eyes. “You okay?”

“Peachy.”

It wasn’t the first time you had witnessed ‘ol Red crying, but it didn’t prevent your heart from breaking all the same. Something about seeing the bullheaded bad boy in tears left you in a real state of dismay, so without invitation, you seated yourself next him, affectionately leaning against his side, but before the consoling could begin, you had to gently ask, “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Ugh, it was so stupid! Mikey wouldn’t quit goin’ on n’ on about beatin’ me in the Battle Nexus tournament and kept rubbin’ it in our faces about becomin’ the champ,” he exclaimed with shockingly little provocation, sniffing loudly. “I jus’ got so sick’ve it this time, an’ it’s not like we neva duked it out before or nothin’ but... I went too far this time, (Y/N), ya know?” 

He still refused to look at you as he began to wipe away some fresh tears that were forming in his eyes.

Your assumption had been correct all along; you acknowledged full well how Mikey’s triumphant achievement grated on Raph’s last nerve and how the orange-banded Turtle would seek out every opportunity to gloat about it in a bid to purposely provoke his ‘older’ brother. “Well, you know Mikey, Raph,” you said, not quite sympathizing with the actions he took, but rather offering some support. “He tries to get under your shell on purpose.”

"Yeah, I know, but... Dat’s no reason ta clobber the guy. Not like that, anyway” You noted how his voice gradually lowered grievously and you couldn’t stop yourself from placing your head on his shoulder. 

“No, it isn’t, but...” you knew you were grasping at straws by this point, but still offered, “They say it’s not as bad as he makes it out to be.”

He sighed dolefully. “I lost control again, (Y/N),” and you could feel the vibrations beginning to surge through him. “No matta what I do, I jus’... I jus’ can’t...” He trailed off, wracked with emotions as he covered his face with one hand and allowed the tears to fall, a cough slipping here and there.

You heart bled for this boy, and more than anything right then, you longed to relieve him of the pain, so you did the only thing you could think of: be right there by his side, comforting him through the breakdown. “Oh, Raph. It’ll be okay,” you calmly whispered, slinking an arm around his carapace and shoulders, bringing him closer and lightly squeezing his bicep with your free hand. “It’ll be okay.”

He leaned into the much needed support and continued to allow his misery to flow forth. You didn’t mind in the least for it was exactly what he required in order to heal, and you would be there for him every step of the way.

AND THAT’S A WRAP!

ALL THE FEELS!! I EMBARRASS!!

WOOT, that’s Turt number two completed! Sorry it took a little longer than expected; I still feel rusty with sentence structure and all and am not entirely pleased with the outcome, but I did feel an improved ‘flow’ from the first so maybe things are slowly coming back to me? Or maybe it was the scenario; it felt more natural o write than Leo’s... Maybe cause Bloo Boi’s my fav Turt and I felt added pressure with his?

Oh well, Donny Boy’s next~

Thank you all so much for the read and hope you enjoyed~ :D

~Drag0n Mistr3ss’ Random Fandoms*

[namjoonspiration]

ON [2]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You wake up in a new place surrounded by Mages; however, you feel the weight of Jungkook’s absence. In the meantime, you meet some new friends.

Warnings/tags: heartbreak, mentions of violence

Author’s note: Here is Part 2! I know it’s kinda short and I apologize for that, but Chapter 3 is pretty lengthy and I’ll be posting that in a couple days to make up for it :) Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 2

Year 3049 – 388 years after the Fall of the World

A pungent, salty smell brings you to your senses. Your hands fall flush against rough cotton as you bolt up from your laying position. The hand that was holding the white rock jerks away. You survey the room frantically. A purple-haired young man is holding the salts. And that golden-eyed Mage who you saw at the Citadel was sitting across the room.

The Citadel!

Jungkook! Your screams of desperation ring inside your head.

You look that Mage dead in the eyes and feel your rage drag you to your feet to launch yourself at him. “You! You fucking prick! You left him behind!” You pound against his chest repeatedly and get a few hard slaps against his face.

“Get her to calm down!” He snaps at Purple Hair. You don’t even spare him a glance. You keep getting as many hits as you can on this stupid man.

“You left my Jungkook behind!” Soft, oiled hands wrap around the back of your neck. “You—you could have saved him…” Your muscles become like jelly, losing all their strength.  You feel your magic go to sleep. Purple Hair is quick to grab you under your arms and set you back to sitting on the bed. You look at his hands, and the bottle on the table. What is that stuff?

“No, we couldn’t. Trust me, if I had the chance, I would have done it. We went into that raid with the aim of getting every single one of you out. If I had gone back for him, our bodies, along with his and the other Mage kids, would be rotting inside that Citadel at this very moment.” The Mage explained.

“He’s probably already dead.” You protest, your anger melting into sorrow.

“They won’t kill him. They’ll hurt him, but they won’t kill him.”

“Why?” You ask in utter disbelief. “And why are we still here and not out there trying to rescue him?”

“Because your boyfriend had proven with his fight at the end, he’s worth more to them alive then rotting in the ground. Besides that Citadel is now locked tighter than a snake around its prey. There’s no telling when that place will let people in again. I doubt they’ll let their own people out to go on the trade roads again for months.”

“Trade roads?”

“Between the civilizations that are left.” His words surprise you. There are more people out there? The Governing Circle always said growing up that the Citadel was the last surviving place for humans left on Earth.

For humans. But Mages…

“That’s how we knew you guys were in there. I was on those roads when a trader from the Citadel was selling oranges, and for top dollar too. I knew it had to be magic that made those. Oranges haven’t grown in any land since the Old World, and I didn’t think the Mages that were making these were doing so voluntarily. The Citadel has a reputation in the outside world for cruelty and oppression of Mages that enter its walls.”

The story was slowly knitting itself together inside your head. You can’t believe it. Your magic gave them a smoke signal—a cry for help. You were the reason that so many Mages were freed from the Citadel. But it didn’t lift your spirits.

The most important person in your life was still in there.

Wait. “What about my mother? My family? The village?” You rush out. “In the Southeast corner, we all lived in a village with our family and neighbors. Did they get out too?” Your heart beats faster in anticipation.

The Mage raises his eyebrows, “Village?” He thinks about it for several long moments, and then he stiffens, jaw clenching. Finally, at last, he says, “No.”

Your spirit drops even further. “So, they’re still in there too?”

“No. There are no Mages left in the Citadel besides your boyfriend. They were all killed when they took you and all the other children several years ago.”

“What?” Tears prickle at your eyes. “How—how do you know that?”

“We heard about it on the roads, and we investigated it. I even saw their bodies being carted out of the Citadel myself before they buried them in a mass grave about a week’s travel away from the city.” The weight of the loss sits heavy on your chest, making it hard to breath. “The Governing Circle only saw your village as a population problem, and when they had finally picked out what they wanted, they destroyed it. They never planned to free you from your prison or for you to ever see your families again. You would have served, worked, bared children, and died within those walls, with your children and your children’s children to live the same fate.”

“Sir,” Purple Hair speaks out of the blue. “She’s not well, and I don’t think this conversation at the moment is going to help her recover.” His voice is so gentle compared to the gruff of the giant man sitting across from you.

He huffs, “Fine. Please send word when she’s recovered then.” And he leaves without another word.

Purple Hair fiddles with bottles and jars, the clinking and clanking poking at the silence in the room. Then he’s laying a tray of food next to you and gestures towards it. “Please eat as much as you want. I can get more if you don’t feel it’s enough.” You don’t say anything. “My name is Namjoon. I’m the doctor here. I’m human, but I’m not here to hurt you obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t be a doctor,” he laughs nervously. You don’t say anything still. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Sorry. My comedic skills aren’t that great, but I’m a good listener when you want to talk. I’m not just a doctor that takes care of physical wounds. Everyone has emotional wounds, and right now I know you have many. We don’t have to deal with them all today, or even tomorrow, but I’m here to help you heal.” Namjoon pats your shoulder tenderly before getting up to give you some space.

You don’t move for hours, even for days for that matter. You nibble twice at the fresh food and water Namjoon gives you three times a day, but then you stare at nothing. Not thinking, not feeling, not sure what to do. Nothing happens inside Namjoon’s clinic the whole time you’re there for that first week until he gets two new patients.

They walk in. A boy and a blindfolded girl. The boy was much older than the girl, and she couldn’t have been any older than three. He appeared to be about your age with a tall, skinny but somewhat muscled build like how Jungkook was.

Is.

“Please come in. Make yourselves comfortable,” Namjoon gestures to the empty bed across from yours. They tentatively sit down. You’re sitting down yourself, nibbling on a piece of bread. They face you, the boy looking you directly in the eyes, like he’s waiting for you to do something. “Ah, I guess some introductions will help with the… tense atmosphere in this room. This is y/n. Y/n, this is Taehyung and his little sister.”

It really didn’t help with the tension at all.

“Okay, never mind,” Namjoon mutters. “I’ll just take her to the other room to treat her injuries and check for any broken bones and infections,” he lays a gentle hand on the little girl’s wrist to lead her. Taehyung is quick to grab Namjoon’s arm that’s holding his sister, warning flaring bright in his black eyes. “It’s alright. I’m not taking her from you. I’m going to help her,” Namjoon speaks with an open and honest tone. Trust.

Taehyung considers his words for a few long moments before letting go. The little girl hops down, and Namjoon places a hand on her back to guide her. Just before they are out of the room, Taehyung warns, “Don’t take her blindfold off. It must never come off.” His tone sent chills down her spine. Namjoon nodded wordlessly.Once they were gone, you and Taehyung returned to your staring contest. It was hard to get a complete read on him, but you could tell he’s been through hell.

“What’s with the blindfold?” You ask after several minutes of silence.

“None of your business.”

“Why does she need it?” You cast another line.

He doesn’t bite. Instead, he fires back with another question, “Where are you from?”

“The Citadel.” There was no point in being mysterious.

“Shit. No wonder you look like hell.”

“I could say the same thing about you. You want to tell me what that black scar on your shoulder is about?” You eye the part of his skin where his oversized long sleeve has fallen to exposure the portion where his neck meets his shoulder. He quickly tugs his shirt back into place, scowling at you. “Are you a Mage?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get here?”

“I was rescued with several other Mages I grew up with. I’ve been here about a week. Although, one of us got left behind,” you mutter bitterly.

Taehyung doesn’t bother to prod further in your last comment. “My sister and I, we’re from a Mage colony from the West.”

The West. You knew what that mean.

That’s where the darkness travel from, swallowing civilizations whole, scorching the lands and poisoning the waters.

Taehyung and his sister must have escaped from it. And from the looks of it, it didn’t seem that they did so with much ease and that they were the only ones who made it out alive.

“Must have been pretty bad out there,” you say.

He nods slowly. “Yeah, it was. I can imagine the Citadel isn’t a picnic either.”

You shake your head. Silence befalls both of your again, but the tension in the room is definitely gone at this point. Now it’s just you and Taehyung, sitting in Namjoon’s clinic with bleeding internal wounds.

He was just like you in a way. Hurt in several ways, seemingly lost, not knowing how he ended up here. The first person you’ve seen in days that wasn’t so interested in how you were faring and when you might recover so they could interrogate about your life in the Citadel.

You hold your uneaten bread out to Taehyung in a gesture of respect and understanding. He searches your face and seems to know what you’re offering him beyond just a chunk of bread. Thankfully, he accepts the bread from you and begins to eat.

…

It takes another week for you to walk out of Namjoon’s clinic, feeling less numb than you had when you first arrived at the Mages’ camp. There were so many other Mages here. You almost couldn’t believe that so many have survived after hundreds of years when you thought at one point your village was the last one left. It was overwhelming at first trying to settle in. You struggled with sharing a hut with other girls your age, who were happy and moving about their normal days. You just didn’t fit in. You returned to Namjoon’s clinic in the middle of the night the first day out, and he offered the spare room in his clinic to stay in if it meant you’d get some sleep. You were truly grateful for his kindness. It also allowed him to keep an eye on you and to monitor your progress.

After your first meeting with Taehyung, Namjoon noticed an improvement in your interactions with your surrounding environment, so he thought it would be a good idea to have you two have some level of interaction every day.

At first, you and Taehyung were somewhat reluctant to listen to him, but after you both realized this would be a chance for you to share with each other about the hell you’ve both been through and to commiserate with each other.

So, you did for hours every day. You would tell Taehyung about life in the Citadel, and he would tell you about what it’s like running from a faceless darkness, that never gets tired, for his whole life he’s lived in the West. Before he and his sister got here, they’d been traveling for months non-stop. Their camp got too close to the darkness one night, and they were attacked by whatever unspeakable horrors were inside it. Their parents sacrificed themselves to save Taehyung and his sister and died a grisly death. However, in their process of escape, Taehyung was attacked by the darkness. It had entered his body, leaving him in constant pain. But he couldn’t stop running and fighting to get away because he had his sister to protect. Thankfully, they stumbled across some Mages from this settlement.

Namjoon didn’t even though what to do about the darkness in Taehyung, which had manifested itself in the form of a living scar on his shoulder. Namjoon didn’t want to try to cut it out from him for fears that he might upset the living darkness and put Taehyung in more pain. It hadn’t mattered to Taehyung anyway. He could barely feel its presence there anymore.

One evening, he finally tells you about his sister.

“She’s a Seer.” Your mother had mentioned them in the bedtime stories she told you. You thought Seers only existed in Mage Folklore. It made sense why Taehyung insisted the blindfold be kept on. Seers constantly see visions of the past, present and future, so to see all that along with the world in front of her, she wouldn’t be able function properly. The overload of information could even kill her, and she might lose her Sight. “Besides, if she keeps that blindfold on, she doesn’t have to see how far this world’s fallen into shit. I can keep her from witnessing firsthand the pain and hell of this world if that blindfold stays on. I won’t ever let her take it off until we’re in a better, happier place.”

You didn’t have your first interaction with his sister until she was almost six years old. You had traveled with her and Taehyung out to a nearby wooded area—a very rare sight—to collect herbs Namjoon needed to make medicines. You’d been examining a cluster of leaves and flowers near a pond when you see them.

Lilies.

Jungkook’s face fills your thoughts. All his sweet words and caring heart. The love you gave each other the few months you had together after you first kissed.

It broke your heart to think about it. Three years… It has been nearly three years since you’ve arrived at the Mages camp. You’d asked that silver-haired warrior every time you saw him when the Citadel would open and when you can rescue Jungkook. His answer: I don’t know. Maybe soon.

As if she heard your distressed thoughts, Tae’s sister placed her small hand on yours. “Let go of your heartache, y/n. He’s where he needs to be right now.” Her voice sounded nothing like a six-year-old’s. She sounded ancient, like she’s been alive for thousands of years. You knew she was telling you the truth, and you can’t lie, it was hard to swallow. But you wouldn’t just sit idly by, waiting for that warrior oaf to bring you news of the Citadel.

No.

Instead, you took action. You learned from the experienced Mages in the camp how to do offensive and defensive magic. No longer would you just know how to make plants grow. Now you would learn how to fight back.

You convinced the merchants to let you join them on their travels through the trade roads after persuading Namjoon for some medicines to trade for promise of bringing back rare items he needed. It took more time than you would have liked, but one day you finally heard news on the Citadel.

They’ve strengthened their numbers again since the attack, and apparently, they’re bragging about some secret weapon they have. You know what I say? What a load of bullshit. I’ve heard from some traders who have direct contact with the Governing Circle that their weapon is nothing more than a Mage boy with some spitfire in his soul. Weapon? Pish. What can a single Mage do against other angry Mages, much less against the darkness that continues to blacken the soil.

Jungkook. He was still alive. That brought you hope that there might still be one day you’d see him again.

But that’s not all I’ve heard. There’s a war on the horizon, and whoever is left on this Godforsaken Earth needs to be prepared.

[mahou-furbies]

Closing thoughts on Re:Creators

Based on what I had heard I expected a lot worse of this, but ended up enjoying it quite a lot even if there were some major issues. To recap the premise, this is an anime original story about fictive characters showing up in real Japan and teaming up with their creators and the government to stop one character who wants to destroy the world. And one of the characters is a magical girl.

(spoiler warning)

My biggest problem that was mentioned in many of the reviews I glanced too was that the characters talk WAY TOO MUCH about the story and the conversations often aren't interesting at all. There are so many long, long scenes where the cast just sits in a room and drones on what they know now and what they will do about it. And it's not helped by the fact that often the one doing the talking is the character with a very monotone voice.

Like for example when the main cast starts to co-operate with the government and have a lengthy conversation about the Plot, the scene ends with an exchange about how the fictive characters need a permit to live in Japan, and it just feels so pointless. If this scene didn't exist I don't think anyone in the audience would have asked about the citizenship status of the characters, and if you absolutely had to bring the topic up you could just have someone say "good that the government lady helped with the paperwork yesterday!". And later we do get a scene just like that, where one of the characters is like "hey, check this out, I got a mobile phone from the government lady!" and that's it, we didn't need to see a pointless "please give us phones" "okay" "thanks" conversation. And while this discussion really only took 30 seconds and shouldn't merit its own paragraph, to me it felt like emblematic of the issues of the story. I got the feeling that the writers were really proud of their plot, so their main concern was shoving the plot details into the audience's faces at any cost.

So this is very much a plot and theme first kind of story, and the characters are there just to represent a very specific thing in it and there is very little to the characters outside of that. I'd say that they are just serviceable enough to carry the story, but I didn't grow attached to any of them and am unlikely to think about them again. The most interesting character stuff came from the authors and their creations interacting (except the one author perving over the female characters) which showed that there was a lot of potential. Unfortunately everything around the main guy and his not-girlfriend was my least favourite character stuff for being boring at best, and the emotional conclusion of the main plot that relied on the not-girlfriend's story felt kind of uncomfortable and distasteful.

However even if "too much talking" and "not very interesting characters" are kind of major problems, there was still a lot to like. And the biggest draw for me was that the passion to create stories really go through. There's always something fascinating about watching people who are passionate about something, and I really got the feeling that the people behind this think that anime is totally awesome. There were times where it felt a bit too self-absorbed with the plot about how anime makers are vital to saving the world, but the main vibe I got was celebrating the need to create.

The show was also very consistent with its theme, so while I would have appreciated if the characters had more scenes where they talked about something else besides what being a creator means, at least the anime was distinctly about something. So the story is full of stuff like characters from edgy grimdark stories being pissed at their creators for making them suffer so much. The concept of anon hate and beginner artists getting discouraged when their works get no hits is touched. In the clip show recap episode the character narrating inserts a sexier, hypercompetent version of herself to defeat the antagonist in their first meeting, but then backtracks because that would make for an unsatisfying story. Later she complains that the antagonist is a pain to animate. The antagonist had a fun origin; unlike the other characters who were from anime, manga and games, she's a popular fan creation and has a ton of different people making all kinds of videos of her. Which results in her having a lot of different powers from different videos, and she gets more as new videos get popular.

One of my fave scenes was when one of the (in-story) characters is seriously wounded in a battle and she's giving her last desperate speech, but then her author is like "come on, I would never write such a stupid death as this for you!" and tweets about a concept of a new super form, and the fans love it and it goes viral (literally in seconds but whatever) and then she does get that powerup and the scene is just so cool.

The cast had characters from various different kinds of stories, but it was kind of a bummer was that there were very few characters who didn't have some sort of supernatural combat ability. Like, if this is supposed to be a mishmash of popular anime characters, where are all the idols, 4girls1club moe girls, the ordinary high schoolers from a coming of an age love story? Towards the end we do get a girl from a dating sim, but I wish there had been more.

Then of course there was the magical girl. She was my favourite character (or tied with the main writer guy and the bounty hunter guy), and that wasn't just because she was a magical girl either. At first she had some trouble adjusting to the fact that this world doesn't operate under the same rules as her optimistic kid show does, but her coming to terms with being a fictive character makes for good character development. She's also the first character to die when she tries to talk things through with the antagonist. And while it kinda was the "kill the cute and friendly character to show that the story is serious" type of moment and I'm sure the people who hate Madoka would also hate this show for it, I don't think it was framed in a "look how stupid and naive this idiot is" way because she knew what she was doing and carried herself with dignity. Shame she died so early in the story since I would obviously have loved to see more of her.

I've read some pretty ruthless reviews and while I can agree that there were some major issues with the writing, ultimately I found it an enjoyable watch and worth checking out at least if you're into writing stories yourself.

[chilling-seavey]

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Thirteen

A/N and things are just getting started over in this universe ;)

Friday, November 22nd, 2019

Daniel stopped answering Florence’s phone calls after the last time he looked after Clementine for her. He seemed to never be home when she dropped by and it was almost like he didn’t want her to know he even existed. The boys didn’t have an answer for her either, not sure why Daniel had been distancing himself from almost everyone. It was eleven long days of one-way contact; uncountable voicemail messages left unanswered, lengthy text messages left on ‘read’, and rising concern in Florence’s heart.

She ended up finding herself at the university campus in a fit of desperation, locating the map at the entrance. The music hall was close by and she navigated her way through the old building and passed noisy students making their way to and from classes. The hallway forked at the end and she took the left down a few stairs to the blue hallway lined with studio spaces. Each door led to the mixing rooms with the actual recording area against the exterior walls. The clipboard on each door read the names of the group members that were renting the space and Florence scanned each quickly.

D. Seavey // J. Avery

was printed on one of the doors at the end of the hall. Florence knocked loudly, crossing her arms as she waited. A boy she didn’t recognize opened the door, staring at her with narrowed eyes under a thick fringe of dyed blonde hair.

“Can I help you?”

“I need to talk to Daniel please.” Florence said strongly.

“We’re a bit busy.”

“I don’t care.” Florence said. 

She pushed passed him into the dimly lit room. The soundboard lined the wall opposite her under a large window, the coloured switches and buttons creating a colourful line across the length of the dark room. Daniel and Jack sat past the window, Daniel at the piano and Jack standing behind the microphone, a large set of headphones barely fitting over his curly hair. They spoke to each other but no sound could be heard from the mixing room. The boy who let Florence in pressed a button on the soundboard, making the boys turn to the window.

“Dan, someone’s here to see you.” the boy spoke plainly into the microphone before lifting his finger off the button.

Daniel visibly sighed and got up from the piano to make his way towards the door that linked the two rooms. Florence watched him walk in, her hands on her hips, in almost a distraught state. He frowned for a split second before returning to an expressionless stare.

“What are you doing here? I’m working.” he said to her, keeping his voice quiet as the other boy stood only a few feet away from them.

“I haven’t heard from you in ages. Had to make sure you were still alive.” Florence forced a light chuckle.

“I’ve been busy.” Daniel said plainly.

“So have I.” Florence crossed her arms over her chest.

“Really?” Daniel scoffed.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Florence frowned at him.

The boy who stood a few feet away slunk off to the studio room with Jack, leaving the two to their tense conversation.

“It means that you work three hours a day three times a week and that does not count as busy.” Daniel blurted out. “I’m in school all week and have to get my projects done and do some gigs in between all that. I’m busy.”

“Why are you being such a dick?” Florence frowned.

“I’m not being a dick.” Daniel said, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, you kind of are.” Florence snapped. “I haven’t heard from you in days and all I wanted was some word from you that you were okay. Is that so much to ask?”

“Well I’m fine.”

“You could have told me that.”

“Maybe…but how I can I chance answering the phone when more often than not you’re calling to ask if you can ship Clementine to my house?” Daniel raised his voice, his arms spread out with tense emotion.

Florence simply blinked at him, not knowing what to say.

Daniel sighed, running a hand over his forehead, exasperated, “Ok, I can’t do this right now. I have to get back to-“

“No, you don’t get to do that.” Florence grabbed his arm as he tried to walk away. “Can you tell me what I did to make you so upset suddenly?”

“I just-I can’t-“ Daniel sighed, staring at the ground.

“Daniel.” Florence repeated strongly.

“I just think we need some time apart for a bit.” Daniel’s voice was so soft that you could barely hear him.

“Time apart?!” Florence gaped. “Daniel, are you kidding? We’re best friends. What the hell are you talking about? ‘Time apart’?”

“I need to be a teenager and I can’t really do that around you.” Daniel shrugged.

Florence looked to the ground.

“I love Clementine with my whole heart and you know that, but I’m not a babysitter. The Clifford’s might not mind but I’m not going to sit around watching your kid while you go around on random dates with guys who aren’t me.”

“‘Who aren’t you’?” Florence asked slowly.

“Whatever.” Daniel waved his hand to brush her off. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Dani.” Florence sighed. “You’re all I have left.”

“You have Emilio, remember?”

“That’s not-“

“You should go. We only have the studio for two more hours and we have a lot to do.” Daniel took a step back.

“Dani, please, can we just-“ Florence reached for him again.

“Stop!”

His volume made her flinch back, eyes widened towards her usually so soft-spoken friend.

“Please just go.” Daniel walked back into the studio without another word. Florence watched them through the window, as Daniel sat back down at the piano and aggressively flipped open his notebook he left on the top. Jack and their friend watched silently from a distance as Daniel scribbled something down on the page before straightening up and starting to play. Florence left quickly.

Tears welled quickly in her eyes as she walked briskly down the hallway, pushing people out of the way if anyone got in front of her. The walk across the unfamiliar campus was almost torturous, Florence’s tears dripping from her cheeks and her vision blurry from them. It was approaching 3pm and she rushed to beat the clock, navigating her way to the back parking lot. The black BMW was parked a few rows down and she sat on the curb behind it, her face in her hands. Minutes ticked by painfully slow and many people stared as they walked past at the sobbing girl sitting in the middle of the parking lot.

Someone approached her quickly, dropping their bag to the pavement before taking her face in their hands. Emilio looked into her tear filled eyes, worry flashing through his own.

“What’s wrong, mi amore?” he whispered.

Florence only cried in response, rubbing her hand over her eye to wipe the tears, smudging her mascara. Emilio sat beside her on the curb and pulled her into his side, wrapping his arms around her trembling body.

“Why’d you come all the way out here like this?” Emilio asked, rocking her gently to calm her.

“D-Daniel-“ Florence sobbed.

“What did he do?!” Emilio turned to protective concern, pressing his warm hand to her cheek.

“He said we can’t be friends.” Florence sniffled.

“What the hell? Why?”

“Because I’m a mom. I don’t know!” Florence threw her hands up. “I don’t know!”

“That’s not like him.” Emilio frowned.

“I-I can’t just not be with him.” Florence cried, curling into his side.

“Then that’s his loss.” Emilio tisked, pressing a kiss to her head. “Even still, I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“That’s what he said about Grayson,” Florence whimpered, “and Grayson isn’t back.”

“Well they’re cowards. But you aren’t losing me.” Emilio took her face in his hands, resting their foreheads together.

Florence sighed.

“Okay?” Emilio whispered.

“Yeah.” Florence nodded.

He tipped her chin up with one finger and pressed a soft kiss to her pouted lips.

Florence wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. He rubbed gentle circles over her back.

They sat in peaceful silence for a moment before Emilio spoke, “Where’s Clementine?”

“With Corbyn.” Florence sat back from him. “I was a mess this morning and he let her stay with him while I found D-Daniel.”

“Let’s go and get her and then find a nice place to eat lunch, okay? My treat.”

Florence nodded, forcing a small smile.