#i’m just so fascinated by his mental state

[yetdevout]

“you’re ruining me… and i’m letting you. god, i’d let you do anything to me,” is a crazy fucking thing to say as a possible fear demon by the way.

[lacroixqueen]

i look in people's windows (18+, noncon) stalker deadpool x office worker reader

Summary: deadpool starts stalking reader after seeing her in a coffee shop. breaks into her apartment and does typical depraved wade shit

Pairing: stalker!deadpool x office worker reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: stalking, trespassing, noncon, dubcon

He didn’t realize he was so fascinated with you initially. At first glance, you looked like any other plain Jane office worker in the city: rushing to the front of the cafe to grab a tray of half-cold coffees before bolting out the door. 

Why is she in such a hurry, he mused to himself, watching you scurry down the block, the corner of your white blouse poking out of your gray pencil skirt. Acting like she’s saving the world or about to perform brain surgery or something. Another Marvel Jesus wannabe. What makes her think she’s so important anyway?

He went back to sipping his bitter espresso, returning to his original state of solitude, until he couldn’t shake you out of his head. Fuck it. Something urged him to get out of his seat, leave the coffee store, and follow you out.

He trailed behind you by about a block or so. He took note of your black tights, and how your skirt ended at the mid-level of your thighs. And that stupid click-clack sound of your heels against the cobblestone. So self-righteous.

He eventually followed you into a skyscraper building. He watched you weave through the crowd, past the front desk, and into a back elevator. Wade quickened his pace to be able to catch you just in the nick of time. 

He darted into the elevator right before the doors were about to close. 

“Floor?” you asked politely, looking up at him with those god awful innocent eyes that made him want to bend you over the nearest desk and fuck you senseless. 

“I’m so glad you asked!” he piped, ever so chipper. “I’ll be.. Uh. Floor. 85.”

“Oh, this building only has 60 floors!” you said. “Which department are you going to? Oooh, love the costume by the way. Maybe you’re headed to the photo studio? That’s going to be on 54. You take a left, then a right, and.. it should be straight there!”

And so polite too. God, could she be anymore insufferable, Deadpool thought to himself, tilting his head to the side as if to psychoanalyze your disposition. 

“Does.. that sound right?” you asked, a bit nervous now that the stranger dressed in all black and red sharing the enclosed space with you was no longer speaking. 

“Yes,” he replied, a little bit too quickly for comfort.

You pushed the corresponding button without another word, and then retreated back to your corner of the elevator. A few seconds of silence passed when your phone suddenly started beeping out of control. 

“Hello?” you asked nervously. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m coming right away. Yes? Uh huh. Mhm. Okay. Got it. Thank you. Bye.” You ended the call with a subtle click and slipped the phone back into your pocket. 

So she’s eager to please. A perfectionist. Interesting, he thought, jotting down a mental note. 

The elevator reached an upcoming floor with a crisp ‘ding’, followed by the doors gliding open.

“Have a great day!” you called over your shoulder as you stepped out, about to walk expeditiously to your cubicle, balancing the tray of coffees in your shaky grip. “Oh, and you should take one of these, they are still hot!”

You handed him one of the skinny vanilla lattes in the tray before the elevator doors closed between you. 

Wade took it without a thought. And he didn’t hesitate to follow you, of course. Ducking behind office plants and hallway walls just to see where you were going without drawing too much attention. He was quick enough to catch a glimpse of your full name on your cubicle placard. 

Bullseye, he thought mischievously to himself, before slinking away into the nearest stairwell. 

He somehow directed himself to the records department in the basement, carefully rifling through the employee directory to match your name with any corresponding information. 

“Y/N..” he muttered to himself, leafing through the enormous book in the back of the storage room. “Goddamnit. Where the hell are you.. Aha! Full government name, phone number, and mailing address. Who even needs those shady paywalled identity finder websites anyways.”

Later that evening, he made it a point to break into your apartment before you came home. He was methodical, ensuring to cover all his steps, so that no trace was left behind. The lock to your doorknob was easy enough to pick. It look several bent-out-of-shape paper clips of course, and a lot of perseverance, but he somehow cracked the code. 

He liked the way you decorated your space. Those cute little succulents in clay pots with smiley faces on them. Colorful candles and warm-toned tarps. Trinkets and crystals adorning cherry wooden shelves. Overgrown plants strewn across the floor. And books. Heaps of them. 

“Well I’ll be,” he huffed to himself, standing in the center of the living room, hands on his hips. “I never took you to be an interior designer. Chip and Joanna would have a run for their money if they ever got a load of this..”

He played with the string of beads you hung from the ceiling, until the wooden dresser you had pushed into the corner caught his attention. 

“Ohohohoho, now what do we have here..” he chuckled, prancing around your furniture to open up the first drawer. He was immediately greeted by your collection of underwear, folded neatly and sorted in a way he pictured an office worker would. He flickered his fingertips over the tops of them, as if he was a kid in a candy store picking out his favorite treat. 

“So organized and efficient!” he commented, rifling through the perfectly placed rows and columns with curiosity. “It’s like the love child of OCD and a very high grade personality disorder.. color me impressed.”

“Eenie, meenie, minie, you!” he exclaimed with glee, eyeing a pair of stretchy, black tights and lifting it out as if he was plucking a rose from a vine.  

Just like the ones she wore this morning, he mused.

His fingers glided across the fabric, gently rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He stretched it out as much as he could, pulling it, teasing it, pretending as if it was on you. 

He decided to get comfortable on your couch, playing with your tights in between his gloved fingertips. 

“Well, out of all the things I’ve done to be put on a government watchlist, this one definitely takes the cake,” he murmured to himself as he lazily lifted up his mask, licking the stretched out nylon with his greedy tongue. He sucked on it desperately, as if he could somehow taste you on the fabric, his saliva dripping down the side of his chin. 

His fingers twirled around the black bows on the sides, pulling so hard one of them came undone. Without wasting another moment, he unbuckled his belt and slightly zipped down his fly, releasing his already hardened cock. Slipping the dainty cloth over it, he began to indulge himself in a way that he never predicted he would this morning. 

He tilted his head back into the soft cushion of the sofa, stroking himself with your elastic tights between his fingertips, imagining you were bouncing on top of him with them on. 

“Fuck, Y/N..” he breathed, gritting his teeth as he continued to pleasure himself. “Why did you have to wear something so slutty at 7 in the morning? I mean what kind of a sociopath does such a thing? You’d think people would have common courtesy these days, but I guess not.”

He groaned softly as he came into your tights, his cum infiltrating through the thin fabric, leaving them absolutely soaked. Breathing heavily, he got up to toss the tainted pantyhose into the trash. 

Finding a scrap piece of paper and pen, he decided to leave you a little note of gratitude on your kitchen table before he left your apartment, scribbling a messy sketch of his mask making a blushing face and a lop-sided heart: 

“Thanks for the coffee!”

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost shares his New Year’s resolution with you.

A/N: This is an automated message. I’m still on a break. Also, a warning for you: this story does not follow canon. It’s fluff, though.

———————————————————————

You look around as you move through the groups of people, making your way toward the buffet. These New Year’s Eve parties at the military base are something else. It’s not the celebration that fascinates you; it’s the way people, just for the night, ditch their ranks and show another part of them that duty tends to conceal.

Seniors and subordinates talk like equals, and the rigid structure fades into the background, much like the slow jazz music playing from the speakers. Annoying ads occasionally interrupt the rhythm, and you make a mental note to locate the source and plug in your Spotify.

And yes, you’ve seen different aspects of their personality while on missions or in more casual settings. However, when you add alcohol into the mix, pair it with the excitement of the upcoming new year, and factor in the human need for closeness when away from family, everything feels different.

For example, you’d never have thought that Gaz gets an itch that lasts for days whenever he has to wear a Gillie suit or that Price can distinguish between different brands of cigars just by smelling them. ‘They need to have the right humidity level,’ you hear him say as you walk past the group and stand in front of the buffet. You scan the pastry platter, trying to find one that’s intact so you can pop it directly in your mouth since no plates are left. That or you haven’t spotted them yet. You look around, searching for a pile of clean ones, but pause as your eyes land on the training ground perimeter outside.

Approximately six feet-something, broad, a glass in his right hand, balaclava slightly raised, leaning against the fence, gazing up at the sky.

Your appetite for pastries is gone.

Leaving the buffet, you walk towards the door leading outside, but as you slide it open, a teammate grabs your shoulder. She urges you to share with the rest of her group about your time in Norway when you mistook a group of migrating salmon travelling upstream for a raid. You smile in response and promise her you’ll join them shortly, motioning towards the training grounds. She follows your gaze, and once she understands what you’re on about, she releases your shoulder and nods understandingly.

You slide open the door; Ghost looks over his shoulder but not directly at you. He’s not alarmed.

“The salmon story is not that funny,” he remarks in a low voice, wiggling his glass. “You should tell them about that time in Mexico.”

“You mean when I complained to the bartender that there was a worm in the tequila bottle?”

He nods, taking a sip. “Like finding a fly in your soup,” he murmurs, lowering his glass.

“I’m surprised you heard the conversation,” you state. “It’s chaos inside.”

Ghost shrugs and lowers his head. He’s not much of a talker lately—not like he’s a social butterfly on other days—but he’s not very keen on the chaos inside. Not only that, but the recent events have shaken him quite a lot, even though he conceals it well.

You rest your arms on the fence beside him, dangling your wine glass on the edge and look at the stars. He follows your lead and does the same. You lean in closer, and your shoulder touches his. He doesn’t move away—instead, he steadies himself further to support you. When you feel ready and secure, you shift your weight onto him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I won’t ask you if you’re ok.” You whisper.

“That counts like asking.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “but I didn’t.”

“Good.” He says and takes a sip from his glass.

“Should I change the subject?”

“Should you keep on talking?” He asks back.

“Yes,” you murmur. “Yes, I absolutely should.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Go on then.”

“So,” you begin, “any New Year resolution for you, Lt.?”

You feel him nod, and you stand upright in shock.

“Why look at you, Lt!” You shout wide-eyed, “I didn’t peg you as the resolution type.”

“What can I say,” he mumbles. “I’m a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a fucking enigma.”

“Churchill said something like that.” You state proudly.

“Indeed.” He replies. “Minus the ‘fucking’ part.”

“So?” You ask, “What is it?”

He looks at his glass, searching for the right words. “No more casualties.” He finally states.

“Don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Considering the nature of our job and such?”

“So was your ‘no more chocolate’ resolution last year.” He replies.

“Hey!” You shout, “At least I tried!”

“That’s what I’m saying,” he rolls his eyes. “I’ll try to keep everyone safe.”

“That’s more like it,” You nod, lifting your glass. “Here’s to trying our best to keep everyone safe.”

He turns to face you. There’s a solemn expression behind those eyes of his. As if he’s determined to make this his life’s goal. He brings his glass closer to yours, and they clink together.

And as you’re about to drink from your shared toast, the door slides open, and a face pops in between.

“Here’s Johnny!” Soap shouts. Although he sports that annoying smug look, the top of his head is wrapped in a fresh white bandage, courtesy of the bullet that grazed him last month.

“I see you’re feeling better, Soap.” You say with a smile. “Would you like to join us?”

“Nah,” he replies. “Captain told me to tell you to come inside; cake’s about to be served.”

You thank him, and he shuts the door behind him. You turn to look at the lieutenant, who is slowly shaking his head.

“Scratch my New Year’s resolution,” Ghost murmurs, looking at the remains of his drink. “For this year, I plan on moving bases so I’d be away from him once and for all.” He states and downs the rest of it.

“You don’t mean that.” You chuckle and slap his arm.

“I don’t,” he admits, “but he made us all lose ten fucking years of our lives.”

“Everything turned alright, Lieutenant.” You say and wrap an arm around his waist. “Now, pull down your balaclava and come inside before you catch a cold.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and plants three little kisses at the top of your head before covering the rest of his face with his mask, leading you inside to celebrate the new year.

———————————————————————

[gay-dorito-dust]

I JUST SAW YOUR ONE WITH BILL POSSESSING READER AND OMG, adding onto bill possessing the reader and pushing them into the portal, can you do one where readers just like "fuck it, if I betrayed him and everyone thinks that might as well" and joins bill, I just think k it would be a cool concept, especially if Ford realizes way too late that reader was innocent.

I’m combining these who requests cuz they are practically the same.

Bill came to you the night after Ford had kicked you out of the shack in the form of a dream.

You didn’t even need to see him to know it was him, there was signs and the obvious one was when the birch trees opened their eyes to stare at you. ‘Bill.’ You said calmly.

‘My favourite fleshbag!’ Bill replied as he hovered in front of you, tipping his top hat towards you but you only looked at him blankly, having had your heart ripped out of your chest mere moments ago, that nothing was left from the encounter other then a dull ache where your heart should’ve been.

‘Hope you’re happy because I’m despised for the things YOU DID AS ME!’ You roared as you grabbed ahold of Bill with your bare hands and bringing him close to your face so that he could see the hurt, the betrayal; but most importantly the angry balding within your eyes so clearly like star constellations on a cloudless night.

‘And they didn’t let you explain? Not even mr logistics himself fordsy?’ Bill asked, finding this really heard to believe as your reality, but the way your eyes became sharp as steel at the mention of Ford’s name only made Bill start to believe that the nerd could’ve done something so heartless. ‘Oh you poor flesh bag.’ He coos as he pats your face with his small hand. ‘I knew I could smell the desire for revenge from dimensions away.’ He adds and you push him away, scoffing as you brought your attention to the landscape that your mind took; a serene forest with fairy lights hung from the branches high about you with the sound of frogs croaking and crickets to accompany the perpetual drizzle of light rainfall.

It was a weird place for you to be, especially with what you went through just moments prior, it felt too calm for a reflection of your current mental state and Bill noticed this abnormality too. You went through the biggest betrayal of your life and your dreamscape was barely affected by the reality you lived in, how fascinating. ‘I don’t want revenge.’ You said to Bill.

‘Are you sure? They didn’t even give you room to explain yourself, they took it at face value and tossed you aside like you were nothing.’ Bill said as he watched your face for every possible expressing he could get out of you. ‘Ford didn’t value you, neither did Stanley so why bother keeping your loyalties to men who don’t see your worth, nor value your loyalty that you’ve given them as they curse your name because they didn’t think you’d do anything in retaliation. Think about it getting even with them while dropping the truth on them will be a spectacle for the ages.’ Bill finishes as he leans towards you while whispering promises into your ears.

You let bill into your head once and you promised that you wouldn’t ever again, you’ve learnt your lesson but you were lost within your emotions, your grief of your friendship with Ford as you allowed him to shatter your last hope for someone to take your side in this long winded argument. That and Bill’s whispers of revenge and getting your own back at the old men has you succumbing to thoughts you’d never thought you were comfortable of thinking so freely as you did in that moment.

‘You promise to make their lives hell?’ You asked.

‘You’re not the only one they’ve wronged. I’ve dedicated my long life to seeing them helpless as I destroy their everything.’ Bill replied as he stuck out his hand, blue flames licking at his palms as it illuminated the dark forest and yourselves. ‘There’s no point denying it kid, you and I? We’re more alike than you think. We both wanna see lesser Sixer and Sixer eat dirt for what they’ve done to us, so let’s make that a reality partner.’ He adds.

-mini skip-

‘We need to wait for my partner, I can’t start torturing you all without them, I kinda promised them a front row seat to your demise.’ Bill said as he caged up Stan, Ford, Dipper and Mabel into their respective prisons.

‘You? A partner? You said it yourself Bill you don’t do partners!’ Ford replied sarcastically but something within him told him that something was wrong.

Bill laughed as he waved his hand. ‘Things change Stanford, and besides me and this person have more in common then I originally imagined when I first possessed them.’ He mentions off handedly as the doors open and the Pines Family saw a familiar figure come into the light, dressed in a dark suit/dress with eyes patterned across it as though to show that no corner of the room went unseen by this person; this person being you as you stopped by Bill’s side.

‘Y/n?’ Ford whispered.

You looked at him with a blank look. ‘Hello Stanford. Having fun in your little cage?’ You asked.

‘Y/n please tell me this isn’t true, that you’re working with Bill?’ Ford pressed on as he fought hard to suspended his disbelief for your sake and for the sake that this was all a horrid dream that he’d soon wake up from.

You shrugged. ‘Like he said, we’re more alike than he originally imagined when he first possessed me into pushing you into the portal.’

The family gasped.

‘He possessed you?’ Dipper asked.

‘This whole time…’ Stanley trailed off.

‘You were being used against your will,’ Ford continued as he realised that his and Stan’s treatment of you was unjust and unwarranted, ‘and now you’re working with him…why you’re my assistant!’ He adds knowing that Bill was using you against him once again.

‘Oh don’t get all jealous that your partner has found someone better fordsy.’ Bill said as he puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it possessively. ‘Besides they just found someone better to spend eternity with.’ Bill adds as Ford could only sit in the realisation that if he had let you speak instead of assume the worst of you, then maybe you’d still be by his side, happy.

But he failed you as much as he failed his brother and Fiddleford. Ford had no one to blame but himself and it’ll be something he’d have to live with for the rest of his life, assuming he should live that long after you and Bill we’re through with him.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

BACK TO THE NIGHTMARES

Pairing - Jonathan Crane x Robin!fem!reader

Summary - Even though you go under the alias of Robin whilst fighting crime in Gotham. Your past catches up to you with a certain Doctor that always had a fascination for you.

Warnings - noncon!, violence, dead dove do not eat, rough sex, abuse physical and mentally, bondage.

Word count - 6.3k+

Notes - This was actually the first Cillian fanfic I wrote ages ago and idk highkey just posting it for the lolz.

The name Jonathan Crane was an open wound to you. No matter how much you would try to cover it, it would bleed back open without you noticing. 

You were an orphan at the age of 16. Your family’s tragic death broke you completely, it led to a life of deviance and crime in Gotham City. Your father had you trained in martial arts from an early age, so it benefited your unlawful acts of theft and robbery. However, you would only steal from the greedy. 

You first met Doctor Jonathan Crane when you were hardly an adult. You were arrested for robbing some rich asshole that scammed all of his workers. If only you weren’t so determined to beat the crap out of him you would have gotten away. Your lawyer told you to take the insanity plea, a major reduction of time locked away convinced you to agree with your lawyer. Worst mistake ever. You could tell he wasn’t right in the head as soon as you saw him, despite his charming face. 

When he put on the mask, your worst nightmares came to life. 

It felt like years, being under him as an experiment (even though it was only a couple of months). You fascinated him. He spent a lot of time with you at Arkham. He would tell you how you were his favorite little experiment and that he treated you so much nicer than the others. As if that was a compliment. It was dehumanizing, how he tortured you with your worst fears. To the point that he was your worst fear. You were able to fight back at him a couple of times, get a few good hits in. Despite the consequences, you didn’t regret it. 

Thankfully, The Batman saved you. Bruce heard of your story and felt sympathy for you. You never knew how ballistic Jonathan went when he got the call that you had escaped. And how he swore one day you would be underneath him again. 

Bruce wanted to help you, he felt your pain and struggles. It took you a while, but you agreed, under the hidden agenda that you would use your training to kill Jonathan. He trained you, physically and logically. Also helped you heal, enough to keep Jonathan out of your mind for most of the day. You eventually became Robin. Suit and all. 

When you thought you were ready, you snuck out of the manor. Your mind set on killing Doctor Jonathan Crane. You waited outside by the outside alleyway of Arkham, ready to pounce as soon as you saw him. When he was descending the stairs, you bolted to him. You swiftly pushed him down to the ground and hell broke loose. Punch after punch, kick after kick. You wanted him to suffer, just as he made you suffer. Jonathan tried to defend himself but couldn’t. You straddled him, the street lamp illuminated Jonathan’s eyes wide with fear, you somehow felt guilt. But you pushed that feeling aside, ready to use the final blow. 

But The Batman interfered. He pulled you off of him, a tight grip around your waist, and in a second, Jonathan was shrinking under you. The both of you landed on an exterior landing staircase and he reattached the batclaw to his belt. You shoved Bruce viciously and hissed. 

Bruce shook his head to you, as if you were a child. “I’m disappointed in you” he scolded. 

“Fuck off Bruce!” you growled. 

“I did not train you to become an executioner” he continued. “You do not decide who lives and dies” Bruce stated, leaning on the railing. 

“We both know I’m not the only person he tortured! It would be a mercy kill for the city of Gotham. You know he doesn’t deserve to live” you scoffed. You both had your points. You huffed and looked back down, he was gone. Bruce placed his hands on your shoulders, comforting you. 

“His day will come, we just need to wait for the right moment. Trust me” he reassured. 

And his day did come. Jonathan was arrested for numerous charges after his toxin exposure into the water system. You were free. Or so you thought. He disappeared after the League of Shadows incident. Bruce said he would never dare to return. You thought the same. 

Over the years, you assisted Bruce on missions, both with an agreeing mindset of making Gotham better. Your name became popular in the public eye, Batman and Robin. The vigilante’s sidekick in Gotham crime. You became obsessed with bringing criminals to justice. Sometimes you’d stay up for hours, listening to police radios waiting for something worth your time. Honestly anything was worth your time. But Bruce told you that you have to draw a line. 

Bruce was out of the country. Something had come up elsewhere, you asked to join but he gave a sly grin and said “someone has to protect Gotham”. 

Here you were again, sitting on the rooftop, the moonlight shining on you. Your feet dangled as you watched the moon, a police radio sitting next to you as you waited. You couldn’t sleep much anyways, the nightmares still couldn’t go away. That’s when it caught your eye, the Bat-Signal in the sky. You stood up immediately. Bruce forbids you from going alone. But he wasn't here, he wasn’t even in the country. This was a gray area in your agreement. Oh well, it’s probably something stupid anyways. 

You were quickly dressed and sped to the building. Adrenaline rushed through your blood. You were up there in no time. But by the time you were sneaking up to the rooftop, the light was turned off. You could hear Commissioner Gordon, yabbering about how some deviant must have snuck up to turn it on as a practical joke. You listened to him close the heavy door and sighed, climbing onto the rooftop regardless. Disappointment filled you as you sat on the ledge, overlooking Gotham. 

“What’s got you down, little one?” that familiar, terrifying voice captured your attention. Chills ran down your spine and your chest tightened. You spun around up onto your feet to see him. Jonathan Crane. Your heart raced. He was wearing his mask, he stood tall with his hands behind his back. He loved to call you little one, even after all of this time. 

“Scarecrow” you snarled, bracing for a fight. But you had to remind yourself what Bruce taught you. You also had to force your nerves to the side. 

He said your name. “You know me better than that” he said enthusiastically. Your face dropped. He couldn’t know it was you. How could he know it was you! He laughed at your frozen state. “Even though you beat me bloody that night, eyes never change” he explained, you could sense the grin on his lips. 

“So this was your plan? You want a repeat then?” you laughed, brushing off your nerves. Fists formed and jaw clenched as you waited for his move. 

“Not exactly, The Batman isn’t here to save you this time. In Prague the news broadcast shows” he mentioned, mocking ‘The Batman’.

It was impossible not to laugh. Who did he think he was?

Your feelings got the better of you. The actions of neutral good left you, your judgment clouded by your locked away anger towards this man. He was to die at your hands at this very moment, he didn’t deserve to live. Pure evil doesn’t get to walk free.  

“I’m going to enjoy this” you gritted your teeth. 

With a flash, you charged towards him and tackled him to the ground. You straddled him, ready to knock his teeth out but noticed his arm raise towards you. With a swift movement, you grab his arm and rip the fear toxic from out of his sleeve. Fuck this guy, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. You ripped off his mask and aimed the canister towards his face and released the gas. 

You breathed in the substance instantly and it blurred your sight. He tricked you. You jumped off of him and coughed intensely. The effects from the substance got to work immediately. Jonathan looked terrifying, your heart raced, body shock and anxiety felt heavy on your chest. No, you still had to fight. You yelled in anger and fear as you threw a punch at him, heart pounding in your chest and mouth hanging open. But your reflexes slowed down so much. He dodged you, effortlessly. Another attempt failed, again and again. Jonathan shoved you to the floor and you fell onto your back. His shoe pressed into your chest, keeping you down. 

“Stop, you’re wasting your energy” his voice sounded demonic. You still tried to fight him off. With a huff, Jonathan bent down and mounted you. You screamed at how close he was, there was no hallucination to his appearance. He looked exactly how you remembered and it haunted you. It was pointless trying to hide the fear he brings upon you in this state. His eyes were dark and expression was blank as his hands tugged onto your loose hair. “There, there, little one. You’re safe with me. You have nothing to fear” he cooed at you with a wicked grin as he pressed his crotch into you. 

You were frozen underneath him, you tried to move but couldn’t. Was this a newly developed substance? Or was your body in shock because of him. Your body trembled and you just wanted to call out for Bruce. With all of your strength, you hand slipped to your belt, searching for the distress beacon. Your actions went noticed by Jonathan and he smacked your hand away. He laughed as he picked up the device and threw it to the side. 

“What did I say again? The Batman isn’t here to save you this time” he mocked, his hands feeling up your body animalistically. He ordered you to sleep and for some reason you did. Falling from one nightmare to another. 

You groaned, your head was aching, but your thoughts were softened with the feeling of fuzziness. The fear toxin had worn off. Your lips were cracked dry as your head rolled from side to side. Your eyes peaked open, you lightly hissed at the bright light piercing above you. Slowly, your eyes became fully wide. You took in a deep breath as you analyzed your unfamiliar surroundings. Everything was white. The walls, counter, floor, exam table and the medical bed you laid on. You harshly blinked as you looked down at your body. A loud, uneased breath echoed throughout the silent room as you stared at yourself. You were wearing a white patient gown and your wrists and ankles were restrained to the bed. 

“You’re awake, finally” the dark voice traveled to your ears from behind. It sent shivers down your spine, knowing who it was immediately, Jonathan Crane. You took into note how his appearance has changed a bit. Just his hair cut shorter and he looked a bit older. If you saw him as a stranger on the street you would think him to be charming. He took slow steps towards you, raising the fear on your cold skin with him approaching you. His hand rested on your shoulder, almost as if to comfort you. “Now the fun can begin” the words slithered off of his tongue. You lied there frozen. Completely clueless of what was about to occur. He sat on the stool beside you and watched you like a hawk. “I had to strip you immediately you know, The Batman had a tracking device on your suit. He must really not trust you. You’ve always made dumb decisions, remember?” he chuckled, speaking casually to you. 

Anger consumed you, you struggled against the restraints and then you froze from the realization of how easy your inner thighs rubbed together. You looked down at your body, and saw your hardened nipples from the cool room poke through the thin cotton. You could feel your body prepare itself to hyperventilate. “You’re going to-” you gasped as you couldn’t finish your sentence, tears flooding your eyes. 

“No no no” Jonathan soothed, leaning closer to you. His fingers interlocked with yours. “You’re going to want me to fuck you, sweetheart” he flashed a smile. It looked pure at first glance, but the longer you stared, the quicker the evil painted over. 

“Help!” you screamed over and over again. Jonathan couldn’t help but to roll his eyes. God you were still such a fucking whiny bitch. 

Robin was gone, now you were just the broken girl that fell into his hands all of those years ago. It was shocking to see how easily broken you’ve gotten. All of this training and skills for what? You should stand strong, just take it, show no fear and pain. But you were just a girl. 

“No point in screaming. We’re not at Arkham. We’re very far away from Gotham” he sighed, looking up to the ceiling briefly. He yanked a dry cloth from the exam table and stood up. 

“Please Jonathan-” you yelped as he viciously gripped your chin and pulled your face closer to him. 

“Doctor Crane to you” he spat. But he didn’t loosen his iron grip. Your eyes were wide as he stared at you with anger. How dare you. You were not equals. You tried to nod your head against his iron grip. Once he let go you took a large gasp.

He leaned over you and forcefully shoved the cloth into your mouth. You cried, your eyes pleading with him as if it would actually make a difference. He admired the sight below him. “Look at you my sweet, all bound up” he commented, his hand trailing across your collarbones. “You thought you were fucking better than me, smarter, stronger. You dumb fucking whore. Don’t worry, I’ll show you your place. Right under me, figuratively and literally” he explained, the back of his cold hand raised to your flustered cheek. “I’m going to fix you” he said quietly. 

Your eyes didn’t follow him. You couldn’t dare to look at him. Jonathan sat back on the stool. He looked back up to you, noticing the tears slipping down your cheeks. “Oh don’t cry. You wanted to bring me down too. I just acted sharper than you. You let your emotions cloud your judgment, you only have yourself to blame” he elucidated.

He had a point. You were taught better. But you chose to react the way you did. Nevertheless, you didn’t deserve to be in this situation. 

He’s waited so long for this moment. The patience this man has had for this moment. It was all worth it. Now he has the power to break you down mentally and physically. You muffled into the rag, trying to plead with him. 

“I care about you” he randomly admitted. “Even after all this time” he mumbled slightly. It shocked you, this monster having feelings for someone other than himself? Impossible. “More importantly I care about how you feel about me” he added, leaning closer to your face. “So, I’m going to please you to show you just how much I care about you” he grinned, his hand tapping your cheek. 

You knew exactly what that meant. You aggressively thrashed your body. This couldn’t be happening, you needed to get out of here, out of these restraints. Your muffled cries echoed throughout the room. The breakdown quickly unfolded when you realized it was pointless. Your eyes squinted shut, this had to be a dream, a nightmare. You needed to remain calm, what he said was true. Your judgment was clouded by your emotions. What would Bruce do? Fuck, as if he would ever end up in a situation like this.  

You were too focused on your attempts to control your breathing to realize that your ankle restraints had been uncuffed. Jonathan pushed your ankles up, bringing your knees up closer to your chest. He reattached the restraints to a closer pole, keeping your knees at a 155 degree bend. Your gown rode up to your hips, exposing your bare pussy. That’s when you realized what he had done. Jonathan walked over to the counter, opened a draw and retrieved a pair of silver scissors. He looked back at you and gave you a wicked grin. Your head shook excessively, as if it would change anything. 

“I’ve wanted to do this since I met you. I regret not fucking you in Arkham. I was just such a workaholic I didn’t want my urges to get in the way. I thought of it as unprofessional. But I’ve become open to exploring new methods” he said slowly as he approached you. You resisted, knowing it was pointless but it was natural reflexes regardless. He towered over you, briefly admiring you before cutting the gown straight down the middle. You cried out as the last inch was snipped apart. Jonathan grinned as his large hands traveled all over your heated body. “I jerked off to you after every session” he admitted proudly, playing with your plump tits. He pushed the cut gown to the sides of your body, you were completely exposed to him, mentally and physically. “I’m going to eat your cunt out now baby” he told you with a smirk. The low tone terrified you. 

He stood directly in front of you, his body leaned over onto the end of the bed. He crawled up high enough for his upper body to easily lay on the bed. “God, you’re fucking dripping!” he exclaimed as he examined your wet region. “Is this all because of me, my sweetness?” he taunted. You refused to give him any pleasure by responding. But he was too focused on the sight of your sweet spot anyways. 

Jonathan examined your cunt. His fingers stroked your folds. You whined, shaking your restricted body in an attempt to get him to back off. He harshly smacked your pussy and you cried into the cloth. “Stop resisting” he growled, his long fingers returning to their playful manner. 

You didn’t like this, at all. However, from his touch you couldn’t help but to feel weakened. Your knees felt like jelly. The further his strokes went, the heavier your breathing got. You didn’t notice your hips flex forward to Jonathan, back arching. He grinned at your sexual response to his touch. You liked this, he knew you did. One finger slipped inside of you, causing you to groan painfully. Fuck, you were tight. Pristine tight. You cried as he finger curled inside of you. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up to you, realization glowed in his eyes. 

“Oh my” he breathed out as he analyzed your expression. He slid another finger inside of you to confirm his theory, you were a sobbing mess from this. “Oh my!” he exclaimed as he pulled his fingers out. He climbed on top of you and grabbed onto your jawline. “Did you forget to tell me something very important darling?” he questioned you, a wicked smirk on his cold lips. Your eyes swelled up, this was so humiliating. You kept your eyes low and he harshly tapped his fingers onto your cheek until you looked up to him. “Have you ever been touched? Fucked?” His dark eyes demanded an answer, his hands loosened enough for you to lower your jaw. He forgot about the cloth in your mouth from excitement. 

You could always lie, but he knew when you were lying. You shook your head, still in his grip.

“Not even by yourself?”

Another shake of the head. 

A dark laugh echoed through the room. “Fuck, do you know how arousing that sounds? Too busy fighting crime to get dicked down. No wonder you’re such a stuck up cunt hm?” he chuckled, caressing your heated cheeks.

Jonathan’s words were too overwhelming. So you just cried, face still in his grip. He comforted you by petting your cheeks and brushing your hair to the side. He couldn’t help but to feel irritated by this information as well. A sudden urge to make love to you rather than to fuck you. No, you’ll like the way he fucks you. There is no choice in the matter. When your cries became minimized he slid back down your exposed body.

“You’re going to taste so fucking devine” he commented, stroking your gushing region once more. “Your body will be so delicate to my touch. I can’t wait to explore all of these new experiences with you. If you are good and embrace my touch I’ll take it easy with you. If not, I’ll make you scream. Not in a good way” Jonathan explained as he gripped onto your outer thighs. 

You whined at the first lick, eyes rolling back as your head dug back into the bed. Jonathan quietly moaned at your sweet taste. It was everything he dreamed of and more. His lips attacked your cunt as his tongue slipped inside of you. A scream of pleasure escaped your mouth. It was humiliating, enjoying pleasure from this evil man. You harshly bit onto the cloth to avoid another muffled moan satisfying his ears. It was amazing with how quickly your orgasm was building, it had only been a couple of minutes. Your legs began to tremble and fists formed. Jonathan’s nose pressed against your clit as he viciously ate you out as if he hadden eating all day. 

He pulled his mouth away, but quickly replaced your tender cunt with the touch of his digits. Two fingers easily slipped inside of you. Muffled cries snuck out. But the deeper his fingers went inside of you, the harder it was to hide your moans. 

“You’re so close to coming already. Making me feel a bit pompous honestly” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help yourself when his fingers reached your g-spot. It felt magnificent, your warm walls squeezing around fingers. He slid in four digits, causing an awful cry of pleasure mixed with pain. You were climaxing in the worst way. Jonathan’s expression looked crazed, like he was a wild animal teasing his prey. It was a surprise that he hadn’t creamed in his pants already. You rode out your very first orgasm on his filthy fingers. Your hips naturally rocked on his fingers back and forward as you became undone. 

You felt like you were going to pass out. Nostrils flared as your body fell back into the bed, it was so fucking hard to breathe. It went unpassed as he untied all of your restraints. Your eyes squeezed shut from exhaustion and embarrassment. You rejected the thoughts of you enjoying the assault, enjoying Jonathan’s touch. 

Your bloodshot eyes opened again when you felt Jonathan climb on top of you. His covered erection poked your thigh as he watched your manner. But his eyes locked onto your gagged mouth. He gently pulled the cloth out of your mouth. You gasped for air, chest raised. 

“Hm, I’ve kissed your pussy before your mouth” he grinned. It was a foul joke. It made you physically gag which he didn’t like at all. He ordered you to kiss him. 

You whimpered at the pain of your sore jaw. But he was gentle with you, his tongue slipped in and lower lip massaged yours. It felt nice, relaxing to feel his touch in this manner. He caressed your breasts as his lips nipped your neck. You let out a soft moan and pressed your body against his, arms wrapped around his upper back. It felt like bliss, the comforting touch to your sensitive body. Your bodies molded together, his breathing was by your ear as you felt your soul leave your body. It felt too good to be true. That’s when you realized it was. You were being physically and emotionally vulnerable with your assaulter. Your body tensed and he noticed immediately. 

“What is it?” he questioned, sounding concerned to the slightest. He stared into your teary eyes, the back of his hand softly stroked your cheek. His free hand lowered to your stomach in an attempt to comfort you.

You regretted it immediately. The action went without a thought. You just saw an opportunity and didn’t think of what the consequences would be. The slap echoed throughout the room and it was followed by complete silence. It was a surprise that you even had the strength to land the hit. You laid frozen as his head remained in the position your hand forced it to. If anything, it was your opportunity to escape. But that slap had used all of your strength. Slowly his dark eyes turned to you, his thighs keeping you trapped underneath him. You stared back at him in fear, waiting for his fury. He backhanded you, again and again. A last gasp for breath left your lips as his hands wrapped around your throat. You struggled underneath him, your face quickly turning red in the process. His expression was emotionless as your fingers dug into his hands, forearms, anything to break the grip. 

“Fucking ungrateful bitch” he growled. “You know, I was going to be nice and wait to fuck you until tomorrow. I thought it would have been a kind gesture to give you some recovery time since, being a pure virgin and all. But you’re just a bit of a fucking brat now aren’t you? Unfortunately I’ll just have to show you my rough side as well” he snarled to you. 

It was a lie, he was going to fuck you today regardless. It was just amusing to fuck with your mind. Your vision became blurred and your hands fell to your sides. He let go of his grip and you gasped for air. His hands quickly gripped onto the sides of your head, his fingers tugged roughly at the roots of your hair. 

“Apologize to me” he spat his demand.

“I’m sorry!” you cried. “I didn’t mean to hit you. I wasn’t thinking straight” you cried your explanation. The apology was genuine but that didn’t satisfy him. 

“Show me you’re sorry” he ordered. You blinked as you processed his words. You tried to move your head closer to his but his fingers pulled your hair back. You winced as you figured you had to work harder to kiss him. Jonathan watched your frustrated and distressed look as you tried to press your lips against his.

“Please let me kiss you” you begged. He chuckled, and let go of your hair. You kissed him desperately, your tongue slid into his mouth. He didn’t like it at all. It felt way too forced by you. Jonathan pulled away and slapped you. 

“You’re trying too hard baby. It’s rather embarrassing” he laughed. “Now, don’t make any rash decisions as I fuck you. Despite my pleasure, I think you’d prefer not to be drugged into a state of  paralysis”. 

Jonathan stood up on his knees, you being trapped underneath him. He towered over you as he began to unbutton his shirt. His eyes did not drift away from yours as he dropped the shirt to the ground. Skin as pale as ghost and had little body fat and muscle definition. It was confusing how easily he could overpower you, drugs you’d guess. “Is there any fantasies on how you want to be fucked little one?” Jonathan teased. 

“No” you spat. 

Jonathan hummed as he slid off the bed. Your lower region was still raw from your orgasm. He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his trousers. He pushed down the clothing enough for him to pull his cock out. A cry left your sore lips. His size was much bigger than you’d imagined. Maybe it was just an illusion, his cock just looked bigger because of his small size. Stroking his cock Jonathan ordered you to turn to your side. You buried your head into the bed as you turned your body away from him. 

He pulled your hips towards him, his cock rested by your entrance. You whimpered at the feeling of him against you. He caressed your ass a little bit as he lined his cock up. “This is going to hurt, a lot” he warned you with zero care. With one forceful thrust, he was completely inside of you. It wasn’t an illusion, he was as big as you thought. The inside walls of you cunt ached as it stretched around him. It was instinct for you to scream and it was diabolical for Jonathan to enjoy your sounds of agony. 

You wanted to thrash out, attack him. But you knew the consequences, how easily he would be able to restrain you. And you didn’t wish to know what torture he would bring upon you. So instead you just laid there crying with him watching you, your fingers curled into the fabric. Jonathan’s grip on your hip tightened as he began to thrust viciously. He popped your cherry quickly, your blood coated his cock and he thought that it was a heavenly sight. He stared at the back of your head as his balls smacked against your core. 

“I want you to look at me while I fuck you” he ordered, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared. You did as he said and turned your head back. His mouth fell open as you two stared at one another. “How does it feel? Losing your virginity in this state? I bet you feel like a dirty little whore. Good, because you like this, I can feel your cunt clench around me. You’re dripping darling” he pointed out, you were. The thrusts became easier because of how wet you were from this. 

His finger drew blood for your hip as his thrusts continued at the same quick, rough pace. He analyzed your expression, noticing your eyes trying not to roll back and jaw lowering open. “Are you about to climax again darling?” he asked with a grin, he could feel it. You shook your head, not wanting to believe it yourself. A harsh smack landed on your bruised hip causing you to yelp. “Don’t lie baby” he warned in a low voice. 

“Yes!” You cried out. Jonathan laughed at how easy it was to unfold you.  

“Don’t let me hold you back. By all means, come!” he commanded, slapping your ass in the process. 

Quickly after that, you followed through with his command. You cried out, eyes completely rolled back, mouth panting for air, chest tightened and body falling numb. Your head fell back as you rode out your orgasm on Jonathan’s cock, hips rocking in rhythm. 

“The little virgin really must love my cock” he noted. 

“Please- stop. I-” you were lost for words. Could he blame you? Two orgasms in a row when you’ve never even attempted it before? Jonathan chuckled darkly at your request. 

“Darling, I’m not even close to finishing. You’re just going to have to hold it out. Maybe we should see if I can get a few more in?” He smirked and you shook your head. 

You couldn’t do this, you’ve had enough. You twisted your body back in an attempt to push him out of you. He reacted quickly and climbed on top of you. His cock slipped out as he grabbed onto your chin. His eyes gave you a warning not to disobey him as he realigned his member. With an easy push, he was back inside of your sweet canal. He bit your neck roughly as he found the right angle to fuck you. You moaned, he felt so fucking good and you hated it. 

Jonathan stared at your expression. Fear mixed with pleasure. It was the ultimate combination. He kissed you passionately, his tongue sliding down to your throat. You tried to fight him off with your own tongue but it was no use. You didn’t notice your arms snaking around his back to hold him close to you, as if he’d leave at any moment. 

“You like this” he taunted. You ignored his words and just focused on him fucking you, feeling yet another orgasm building up inside of you. But then he stopped fucking you all together. His cock slipped out of you and you frowned at him. You almost asked as to why he had stopped. Has he finished? “If you want me to continue fucking you, you’ll ask me nicely” he explained, a sly look on his face. 

You laughed weakly, he wasn’t serious? Why would you want him to continue? But then he rubbed your clit and you knew why you wanted him to continue. Humiliation was such a turn on. You cried, your chaotic thoughts were too much to unpack. Why would you even dare to ask him to continue? But you were already so close again and the discomfort in your core was becoming unbearable as he rubbed you just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to push you over. 

“Don’t feel guilty about your pleasures Y/N. Your body betrays your mind, it’s so fascinating isn’t it? The relationship between the mind and body. There’s no point in fighting it. Just embrace it, embrace my touch” 

His words felt like bliss. He was so smooth tongued. It was true, you did enjoy this, well your body did at least. What was the point in fighting? You had already lost to him. 

“Please” you whimpered, keeping your head low.

“No” his reply was blank.

“Please!” you sobbed, head shooting up to look at him. Your eyes screamed desperation and irritation.

“Please what? Please Doctor Crane fuck me? I’m such a pathetic greedy little slut that wants to come again?” His words were a slap to the face. It was as mortifying as you thought. 

“Yes that yes!” your response was quick. “Please- I want, I want your cock inside of me. I want to feel you inside of me” you said overwhelmed. You were whimpering a lot, your hips rocking on his thumb.  

Jonathan watched you rub yourself on him and bit his lip. “Oh, you really are a fucking slut. But you’re my slut. You’re mine. But I think you know that already. You’ve always known. Don’t you?” He grinned. You hummed and nodded your head. You shrieked when he pinched your clit. “Use your words girl!” he growled. 

“Yes! I-I’m yours!” you answered. Tears streamed down your cheeks and your mouth trembled.

“Oh you make me want to come so hard. I want you to hold it out. Can you do that for me baby? Wait for me so we can come together” he grinned as he lined his cock at your entrances, brushing against your wet folds. You nodded your head in agreement. Whatever, whatever he wanted. 

The force of his thrusts was like a jackhammer. For a man his size, he sure had stamina. Your foreheads pressed together, fingers interlocked and your legs weakly wrapped around his waist. It terrified you because you came before him. You just couldn’t help yourself. But he didn’t stop so you rode out your high as best as you could. You knew he was about to come undone. Both of your hips locked forward at the same time. Jonathan groaned loudly as you clenched against his shooting cock. His eyes squeezed shut as he held you tight and head flung back. His thrusts came to a sudden stop, his cock completely inside of you, his load spurting deep inside of you. With a few more softer thrusts, Jonathan pulled his soaked cock out of you. 

He let out a satisfied sigh. “I told you it wouldn’t be considered rape” he reminded you expressionless, not even breathless unlike yourself. 

You broke down, unable to control your emotions. You were a sobbing mess. Surely he’s drugged you with something else, right? But the gut feeling inside of you told you otherwise. Too many conflicting thoughts were fighting with each other. After watching you for a quick moment, he got off of you and fixed himself up, redressing himself and combing back his damp hair from all of the sweat as you laid there helpless. There was the opportunity that you tried to make a run for it, but the success rate was at minimum at this point. 

The Doctor went over the sink and ran a cloth under warm water. Ringing out the water, he walked back over to you and began to clean you up, completely ignoring your state of distress. Aftercare was the least of your expectations. He left your cunt till last. His fingers pressed up against the folds of your entrance. A mixture of your fluids oozed out.

“What a sight” he murmured to himself. 

You whined and hissed as he cleaned your raw, swollen, abused cunt. When he was done, he chucked the cloth into the sink and climbed back onto the bed next to you. You silenced yourself, expecting him to make another attack on you. He watched over you quietly and you weren’t sure what to do. It was like he was a crazed monkey waiting to snap.

“You’re still such a good girl for me” he cooed as he planted soft kisses all over your heated skin. The memories of your history filled his mind. There was a passionate kiss shared between you two, the type that doesn’t show desire but shows romantic intimacy. You kissed him back gently, it felt nice and you hated it. Jonathan pulled away and wiped your tears. “You still know your place. Mhm, you took my cock so well baby. I’m so proud of you little one” he praised as he groped your tits. “God, who knows, I might just fall in love with you” he laughed softly, kissing you once more.

[jujutsukaisenwriting]

JJK Characters Realizing They Start Falling for You [Pt.2]

Bonus: manga character in the end!

Choso:

Being one of the Death Paintings, he never experienced such feelings before. At first, he tries identifying it but fails. It’s more than friendship and more than simple protectiveness. After some time, he goes to Yuji and reluctantly asks for advice.

Grumpy and aloof by nature, Choso starts with tiny steps: sitting a bit closer to you than usually, talking to you more often or even doing small acts of service like holding the door for you.

He actually has lots of passion, emotions and affection inside and with you around, he feels more in touch with these emotions than ever.

Is very sweet and once opening up, will blow you away with his wit and humor.

Will surely take some time to mentally prepare for asking you out since a) he doesn't believe he has a chance and b) has super low self esteem in terms of being a romantic partner.

Takes you to a quiet place where he can gather his thoughts. Is surprisingly straightforward though and just admits he likes you and would like to get to know you more.

INSTANT SMILE OF RELIEF

Cups your face and stares in your eyes with a huge goofy smile, not quite comprehending what just happened.

Yuta:

Since he had a history with Rika, at first he brushes off any thoughts of potential love interests.

However, you make it hard for him not to pay attention to the way you laugh, carry yourself, or spar.

Opens up with you more, replacing his shy facade with his true, ingenious and passionate self.

He finds it fascinating how easy it is to talk to you and just be around you, with no need to pretend or stay alert.

Is actually a very protective type and it will show almost instantly. He will always make sure you are safe and comfortable but he won't be obtrusive at all.

One day just asks you to join him and spend some time in an amusement park. While walking, will casually drop the "I quite like you" line and will smile softly, talking your hand.

From the start, he never doubted in your answer and now smiles in quiet confidence.

Toji:

Needless to say, the man is super reserved so at first, he will just act as his usual self: keeping the distance and occasionally glancing at your side with a frown.

Is annoyed at himself because he never thought he’d be interested in another person again. Apparently, you found your way under his skin.

Toji knows how to be a husband but has forgotten how to be a boyfriend so he’ll have hard time figuring out where to start.

Are flowers okay? What do people even do these days? Should he take you out somewhere?

His rage surprisingly dissolves in your presence and he cherishes this feeling though never admits it out loud.

Will take you to a secluded and quiet restaurant and will simply state that yes, he’d love to… try this whole…relationship thing with you.

Geto:

Usually has no trouble asking someone out or simply flirting but finds himself at loss of words in your presence.

It’s weird and he both likes it and feels a bit embarrassed.

Is a type to observe you from the distance and make mental notes on your behavior and habits. He doesn’t stalk though: he is just hesitant to approach you yet.

Is amused by the way you laugh or fix your hair and smiles softly and admires you quietly

Loves to touch you, be it holding your hand occasionally or brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Will probably ask you out while you two share a quiet and cozy evening. Something like stargazing together sounds like a perfect start for your blooming relationship.

“I’m not used to needing someone as much as I need you, but I’ll be honored if you decide to give it a try and become my partner”

Higuruma:

Not really a romance type of guy and has never been pursuing a relationship, prioritising work.

Is caught off guard by the sight of you. His eyes open widely and his whole expression changes as if the veil, that’s been hiding his features, was finally lifted.

Tries to rationalise his feelings and emotions. Like, he should control them, right? Logic should be above it all?

In your presence, acts in a rather sharp manner, trying to hide nervousness.

Old-school romance is his style. One day, he will just show up with a huge bouquet of flowers, assembled specifically to your liking.

Will be brutally honest like “I don’t know why I’m feeling this way but I’d rather spend evening with you than by myself”

Will actually open up and as it turns out, has a wonderful sense of humor and lots of witty stories that he will gladly share.

Note though that he is a perfect listener. This man is genuinely interested in your day, your mood and your thoughts.

He wants to become part of your life and is willing to work on any complexities that might arise.

[fumifooms]

Analysis of Laios’ succubus and theories on what it means - deep dive on Laios’ desires in human connections

Laios’ succubus is a very odd incident. I have some particular interpretations of why it was Marcille, and why things went down the way they did.

We know that a succubus shows what one desires, stated in canon as “an alluring form”; yes often in a romantic or sexual sense, as seen with Chilchuck’s succubus being entirely set on looks and seduction, meanwhile Marcille’s does have a focus on chivalrous noble demeanor as well, showing romantic behavior and personality. BUT with Izutsumi we also see that the liaison doesn’t have to be romantic or sexual at all, either, in Izutsumi’s case it’s a familial bond she craves. So perhaps we can say that the succubus exploits a desire based on connection, in whichever form that takes. Marcille wants an emotional connection foremost(which is also reflected in how it’s a character she knows very well and not a stranger. Perhaps romantic.), Chilchuck wants pleasure(a simple pleasure not unlike alcohol, perhaps such a connection is free of the more risky or unpleasant parts of a relationship, he doesn’t have to worry or to think and can just let himself go. Sexual.), Izutsumi wants a mother figure that can offer her warmth and comfort with who she doesn’t have to be tough (Familial), and I believe Laios’ is platonic and centered on his desire to have people with who he belongs and can be himself with…

But Laios’ case is more complex, it has layers. The thing is, even if Laios wanted to have someone able to turn him into a monster—which it didn’t even have to be, could straight up have just been a monster with such powers—, it didn’t have to be someone he knew. You could say the succubus wanted to disarm Laios’ suspicions with someone he knew and that was nearby, but the succubus seem very direct in every other case, simply appearing with someone’s greatest appearance even though both Marcille and Chilchuck were fully on guard and the succubi knew it. "Believability" isn’t an important factor. No, his succubus being someone he knew was important. It being Marcille was important.

There’s a TLDR at the end of this if you want to cut it short. For everyone else, strap in everyone, if you don’t know me hi I’m Fumi and I made this 3k words long analysis and theorizing bc I am autistic much like the character in question and I think this is both fascinating and has a lot to say. In this I offer both platonic and romantic reasonings and I do go rather in depth in Laios’ psychology and relationships to dissect what ever could this damn cryptic event MEAN. Spoilers for the succubus chapters obviously and also the last few arcs of the series so… Spoilers for the series as a whole!

—

So attraction wise it’s kinda unsure where Laios stands. He does sort of logically list off aesthetically pleasing traits of the orc’s wives, but besides that… Not really, or he never voices it anyways. He and Marcille never share like “omg you’re pretty” moments or anything. Senshi gets more compliments than either of them through the series lmfao. Maybe Laios is asexual, maybe he simply doesn’t show outwardly his attraction much or even maybe isn’t self-aware about it, regardless… Laios HAS implied preference for Marcille’s looks in the past. With the orcs, he said that “tallmen like long ears”. Laios’ shapeshifter of Marcille has her hair down just like her succubus, which by Kui is explained to be because she had it down when she revived Falin and it really marked him, though it could also be interesting to see it as his mental image of her as her most authentic self, I’ve seen it theorized that it’s a preference too but I think that’s disproven. But of course the most damning evidence itself… The succubus scene. It could have been anyone else in the party, certainly Senshi shares Laios’ interest in monsters much more already. We shouldn’t discredit the way Laios was blushing madly once she revealed she was a monster, that made her more attractive to Laios for sure, but he still wouldn’t have reacted that way if it was just anyone. The contexts are very different, but we can compare it to how Laios reacted when Lycion turned into a wolf man in front of him for instance. Laios certainly doesn’t act that way with Izutsumi- and it’s confirmed like a page later that he does see Izutsumi as a monster already. AND!! Laios starts blushing madly BEFORE she says that she can turn him into a monster- and we can safely assume that the blush isn’t out of simple fluster but out of desire/infatuation since he clearly wants her to bite him in the next page and his blush does not relent at all.

There’s something we could say about Laios’ liking of Marcille being born out of companionship rather than aesthetic attraction, on familiarity and intimacy. As members of the same party they’ve spent a lot of time together and we’ve seen that Laios trusts in her and relies on her for her skillset and avice. If Laios’ interest in her developped more naturally and gradually, valuing the familiar bond they have, I don’t see why he’d be acting all blushy and lovesick every time they interact or whatever, which is the explanation I have for Marcille genuinely being Laios’ most alluring form but him not freezing at the sight of it. That could also be a reason why he physically rejects succubus!Marcille instinctively, because something about her feels off or different (which is sorta the most direct interpretation of the scene, since Laios’ first thought is that it can’t be Marcille and must be a monster).

 [Edited in: Oh my god. The picture above is the last page of the dullahan chapter, chapter 57, a chapter that centers around Laios and Marcille’s relationship through flashbacks as Laios is on the brink of death and sees his life flashing before his eyes (he remembers how they first met, etc, which is also interesting to note that on the brink of death he reminisces about her the most). The last page of that chapter, more or less the thesis of the chapter in which we see Laios opens up about the real reason he and Falin go dungeon diving to her after them having a rough meeting but she turns out to also have an interest in dungeons, has Laios go "she starts out frowning but she ends up smiling! Wether its’s about eating monsters or about me :)”. That chapter is the one right before th succubus chapters. Laios’ most alluring form wasn’t “just” Marcille, it’s a SMILING Marcille. Which is why the succubus had such a weird and off demeanor right away (which gets knocked off once it doesn’t work and becomes a more Marcille-like Marcille)! It was only focused on smiling because it was the angle it was working from.

Oh my god it makes sense. It’s a direct narrative link, it’s as explicitly put with its story structure without Kui just stating it, besides, you know, the many times Laios says how precious her smile is to him. He’s like “I love her smile” and right next chapter the succubus is like “yes this is what he likes seeing most”. But… This also does mean that the focus might be less romantic, like Marcille’s significance doesn’t diminish, but then the alluring form might be less about her and more about the smile itself. About having a friend who looks at him like that, about someone who smiles after eating monster dishes or surpassing obstacles together… Or it can actually be so much more romantic. Like, maybe the smiling Marcille doesn’t work is because well, it’s not like Marcille, she wouldn’t just be smiling like that and behave like that (esp since his musing is about how her smiles are sort of “earned”, that she doesn’t smile right away but it’s sort of like a rewarding sight when she does). So then the most alluring form of Marcille doesn’t work because she doesn’t convincingly BEHAVE like her. His most alluring form isn’t a Marcille-lookalike, it’s her as a whole. More on the succubus shifting/switching in its approach later.]

Anyways.

Where was I. Ah yes, “It could have been anyone else in the party, certainly Senshi shares Laios’ interest in monsters much more already.” But then that’s the point isn’t it. I think Laios’ succubus being Marcille is because his wish isn’t so much focused on her, or on becoming a monster, but on not being alone. On being understood. On having others finally share his interest. On not only becoming a monster, but having someone to share that with. A trusted friend, a companion, or a lover, it matters little in my interpretation, the bedrock of it stays the same. And this is why it’d be someone he already knew instead of someone new, because it’d defeat the point, and it was maybe Marcille because she’s the most vocal about finding monsters disgusting: it’d have finally been a shift in her that she now liked monsters. And again this brings back to when he talks about her smile, when he says that she starts out unhappy with eating monsters, but ends up smiling by the end of it. Her smile itself represents that though first impression or reflexive dislike, someone can turn around and end up liking it anyways, it’s hope for his interests to be liked and perhaps for him to be lovable as well, that it’s possible to be accepted.

But I do think it would be a mistake to say that there’s absolutely no romantic interest, that it’s plainly platonic or another kind of interest misplaced and idealized in her. What we saw with the other succubus is that they 100% act in ways that the person desires, sure Izutsumi’s start attacking after a while, but that was after pushing them over the edge, and succubus Marcille wasn’t being agressive nor did she have a reason to be (even when she could have with Laios’ choking, she didn’t turn to violence, so she was 100% still in seduction mode). Ultimately the goal of the succubus is to make physical contact to be able to suck their essence, but the way they go about achieving that is tailored to the individual’s desire, Marcille’s kissed her hand and Izutsumi’s offered a hug.  The succubus can identify and embody complex desires, often subconscious ones, shown with Izutsumi’s. They go straight to it without complex subterfuge either. Chilchuck’s succubi were very direct because that’s what he wanted, Marcille’s was courtly because that’s what she wanted, Izutsumi’s offered motherly comfort and affection because that’s what she wanted, and Laios’ is Marcille attempting to kiss him. Let that sink in.

Laios why are you choking the supposed key to your heart?

Ok so the theory that Laios’ desire is to have a deeper companionship from an existing companion is pretty tame and surface level I’d say, but strap in… The way Laios reacted violently to Marcille trying to kiss him is VERY interesting. The first thing he thinks about is that she isn’t Marcille so she must be a succubus, then confusion at to why it’s her. He’s even afraid of what the others would think, feeling… Shame? With how he imagines Marcille would be horrified that he likes her that way. Fear of rejection?

But no no, what interests me is the shift that the succubus makes. It seemed very confident at first, went straight in, but when overpowered shifted the direction it was going in- shifted from a desire for Marcille to a desire for a monster Marcille and whatever deeper desire that hides. But??? Succubi did not make mistakes as to what someone wanted thus far, possibly that has never ever happened before by human records. Could the succubus truly have miscalculated what Laios desires? It’d be hard to imagine that the succubus would misunderstand what type of companionship someone wished for or what approach to take, since it’s done complex cases before too, Izutsumi being very much in denial before it & at first. In Izutsumi’s case, even with her complex feelings over it and her two souls desiring different things, the succubus did not miss its mark, and ultimately it was having a second soul for who the succubus wasn’t alluring that allowed her not to be frozen to the spot. But with Laios the succubus fully switches strategy.

The thing is that succubi don’t usually need to switch strategies, because the form and approach they take always work and always leave the victim frozen. Izutsumi bypassed this because of her two souls, but was still frozen and struggling to reject the succubus at first. And yet? Laios did. A succubus’ victim is supposed to be instantly frozen, and yet Laios acts on instinct and defensively agressive as soon as his reaction time allows. And well, it’s hard to really come to a logical conclusion as to why, since we have no idea of what rules can override a succubus’ temptation besides multiple souls… C’mon regular Marcille can’t be the winged lion/kenksuke’s desire bc of the loose hair being Laios’ mind-Marcille we’ve gone over this /hj Although, since it’s confirmed that the winged lion was watching with the dream Laios gets induced right after, maybe he’s what allowed Laios to be moving? It’s possible that it’d have frozen him otherwise, even if Laios with his full rationale wouldn’t have accepted the kiss faced with supernatural allure he might have gotten paralysis from being overwhelmed, similarly to how if Chilchuck had his full rationale he wouldn’t allow a woman like his succubus to kiss him (he’s always stayed faithful to his wife even after 4 years of separation, give the guy his earned credit). Getting somewhat offtopic, but something to say about how if that’s the case once again the theme of ‘irrational desire you crave vs what you truly want/need’ that is present throughout the manga would be reflected.

My best guess however on why Laios reacted so quickly and forcefully is: trauma. The more recent arcs with Laios suggest that Laios has deep-seated trauma over humans. He dislikes humans as a whole, that was like, pretty much stated, though perhaps exaggerated. As a kid he fantasized about monsters wiping out human towns. We know Laios has been ostracized for most of his life by others, in his village and in the military, and beyond social rejection it’s shown he got beaten in group too and it was implied that it happened regularly. But damn, disliking humans to the point of wanting to be a monster and murderous genocidal reclusive envies and all of that stuff? That is massive trauma, massive identity & belonging issues and hint at massive trust issues.

So then, the negative reaction could be because of Laios’ deep trauma with humans. Because of trauma getting activated, not due to a miscalculation on the succubus’ part but due to a contradicting dislike of the desire that makes the form inherently and straight out of the gate un-alluring, Laios’ repression being so strong that he’s able to affect his own desires in that way, or an instinctive defense response to the trigger (a human).   Even though Laios hides it well, once again recent arcs (and some other moments) make it clear that Laios still has some innate dislike of humans, which in canon is a term that all races like elves fit in. He has a bias against them, perhaps even an innate distrust of them. Who knows how aware he is of it, or how much control and will he has over it. What if Laios reacting agressively to it was his defense mode tied to this kicking in, a survival and security instinct, stopping any possibility of Laios wanting a romantic relationship with a human? Any chance of that human getting close and being hurt by it, either rejected or stabbed in the back? It’d then make sense if Laios is unaware and doesn’t understand his attraction to Marcille then, if it’s a sort of self-made blockage, denial. And that’d make full sense with how, when Marcille is suddenly a monster, then all of Laios’ reluctance is gone and he’s fully enthralled, all that it took was taking away that one blockage for Laios to be utterly charmed. It takes away the trigger element, humans, and replaces it for something safer. A desire for connections, but connections with people that are ‘safe’, people who also don’t fit in with society, who are part of his interest in monsters, who would accept and understand him. I think that Laios does desire human connections, specifically, but can’t allow himself to pursue them either from conscious or unconscious trauma, so though he does desire it he can’t accept that he does/can’t accept the relationship even if it’s handed to him on a silver platter.

Conclusion

The succubus’ shift could then be either that it switched from one wish, a wish for Marcille, to another, a wish for companionship in monster-liking, or that it stayed on the same fundamental wish, but had to improvise with the new information (that Laios is human-averse)(not bc it didn’t exist previously but bc it wasn’t manifested) to take out of the equation the thing that was holding Laios back (from giving in).

But well, the fact that the rest of the party is included does lean towards the former, but in any case that doesn’t erase all I’ve spoken about, all about how Marcille is 100% the focus of this whole thing. It could still be a bit of both. But it is interesting that he worries about the party’s reaction to seeing his succubus being Marcille, and when she shifts into monster Marcille he *still* worries about the others: “b-but what about the others?” He’s a mess, with his most alluring form seducing him, and he still has a shred of resistance in him to question how the others would react, and it’s only when she says that they’re already monsters too that he truly gives in. Is he really so afraid of ostracization? Of losing the people he cares about due to judgement? Then the mention of the others in the party can simply be something the succubus added on top to unlock another “blockage”, the same way she added Marcille being a monster on top of the basic premise of Marcille; Take out the immediate dismissal of humans first, and then the fear of loss and judgement from other friends so Laios can finally stop worrying and give in. That worry/framing I’d say makes the latter more credible, because it’s not the premise of the alluring form but an extra.

In the end, like the recent arcs kind of spell out, the thing central to Laios’ character is less so a love for monsters and moreso a dislike for humans, and this is what this puts on full display.

Laios’ most alluring form is Marcille, a human that doesn’t understand his interests and thus him, and regardless of everything else that Marcille is, that is so traumatic to him that all of his being immediately rejects it.

—

Thanks for coming to my ted talk! I’ve spent so much time thinking about this and wording and rewording this same train of thought, also it’s the end of my college semester and I’m going crazy

Tldr: My personal fav theory for Laios’ succubus is that Laios really values Marcille’s smile a ton like it’s often mentioned, and that’s what his most alluring form centers on. I’ve got a ton of different interpretation on the why it’d go for a kiss? Since it tailors its approach to the person’s desires, but obviously something goes wrong with Laios’, which is really interesting because even with Izutsumi who resists because she has 2 souls so one part of her can always remain unaffected, the succubus hit bullseye on her most alluring forms. But regardless of that, I think his desire for Marcille (either her or what she represents, wether as a platonic ideal or something else) isn’t wrong/untrue perse, but that Laios has such a complex with humans and intimacy and connecting with others that his defense mode kicks in and that’s when the succubus has to shift into a different, safer desire: one that doesn’t involve humans but that still shows connections and acceptance and belonging. Also Laios realizes that it isn’t Marcille when she goes in for the kiss, which if his allure for her is based on familiarity since they’re friends and all could make sense that it’d break him away from it, or since it’s a liking based on familiarity he doesn’t freeze, or maybe it’s because the winged lion has its eye on him. I think that’s so much more likely with how Kui makes even her jokes be character moments or at least consistent, and also with the tension of the scene, than just the scene being a gag about how Marcille doesn’t mean much to Laios actually.

I think there’s a lot to be said about why Marcille is special to Laios, why her smile means something to him, etc, and I don’t think saying Marcille is special to him is exaggeration or reaching at all. Laios, Marcille and Falin are the golden trio, she’s the deuteragonist, she’s the only other character in the main party whose goal in going back for Falin is Falin and who has a bond with her and Laios outside of being coworkers, in post-canon they live together, happily, in the anime’s ending they’re emphased on by dining out all three together... I could go on.   Marcille has the benefit of being very trusted by Laios, not only with the time they’ve spent together but how she was Falin’s friends first, the person he himself feels so protective of and has been so consistently ostracized throughout her life. Marcille represents a positive odd one out that’s like, the good example of "humanity can be good and safe and warm actually".  Which is a big reason why imo Marcille is like, the secondary protag and with Falin they form the golden trio. She’s central to the story in many ways including making Laios see that humanity is worth saving and sticking with, but that’s a topic for another analysis. One such reason is how his first meeting with her went: it started really badly but ended with her coming around and unexpectedly sharing their interest in dungeons, which made him and Falin open up about the real reason they go dungeon diving, perhaps for the first time. There is just so much that goes into it but Laios seems generally very expectant of rejection: in the climax chapters after he transformed back as a human and was hiding out in the woods, pre-canon in an extra where we see him battling himself on if he should suggest eating monsters or not. But another one, the one I truly want to bring up in this post, is how genuine Marcille is! And funnily enough, how dramatic she is, and how her elf ears change position depending on her emotions. Like, let me compare her affectionately to a dog for a second, but dogs move their ears and use whole body language to communicate, and I think that part of Marcille, really strong emoting, with her ears and body language on top of her often dramatic facial expressions, reassure him. Like ok, maybe he can’t tell when Shuro and Kabru would lie to him, but Marcille? She wears her heart on her sleeve and her feelings on her whole self. And that takes away some of the stress and trauma he has with humans, explains why her smiles would “put him at ease”, doesn’t it?

I don’t remember wether I’ve mentioned this somewhere or just in my reblog linked at the end of the post, but while at first I thought the succubus going for a kiss on the lips heavily implied a romantic desire in Laios,  now I have a couple different theories on why the succubus would have gone for that approach. I think the most likely is that, if the principal allure of his succubus is her smile, the succubus is like "as long as he sees her face right up until i can suck up his blood and he passes out I’ll be gucci", so it’s not about the kiss but about him seeing her face all the while until the very last moment, so he stays charmed.

Btw chapter 34 explores Laios’ relationship with touch too imo, and we see that he is uncomfortable with touch to some degree, very unsure and hesitant and tense. I feel like it’s something more shown in a bigger picture sense with his whole struggles with humans and extras, than just in any one page so go reread the beginning of that chapter if you want I’d say, but putting a page below as example anyways. I think it’s notable that it’s a character moment shared with Marcille too, she acts sort of like a bridge to humanity with social propriety and being extroverted in many cases. In the chapter Chil and Marcille point out how awkward he is with touch, but he learns to be casual/comfy enough about touch to do healing magic with her (something that was also enforced through him having to practice magic on Marcille turned to stone, he got a lot of touch exposure and magic practice done in those days. Dammit Laios, MArcille and touch is worthy of a whole analysis of its own). She’s just like, his human comfort zone, even if they aren’t that close at least at first, besides Falin he has literally like no friends and I think that itself shows how he doesn’t fit in well socially and that it’s a significant struggle for him. But yes what I was saying here is I believe there’s setup for him recoiling from touch like he did with the succubus (due to an instinctive aversion to touch made especially intense due to the succubus’ oddness and forwardness).

I have even more theories and rambling on details on the succubus here in a reblog, but unless I want to put in some pictures of Laios repressing himself around others and such I don’t think I’ll be touching this post again in a while

[shkudss]

Weakened by Eywa Pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Masterlist

Summary: Ao’nung finally realizes that his actions have consequences

Warnings: curse words, bullying, mental breakdown, English isn’t my first language

Author’s note: it my first Avatar writing, so I hope you like it! This idea was spontaneous and I’m not really good at writing, but I hope you’ll enjoy it! I’m still learning how to use Tumblr properly since I don’t really use it 🥲

Yawntutsyip - darling, little loved one

Yaymak - foolish, ignorant

You thought that all these days when you flew to the water clans were the hardest in you life. Little did you know that life with Metkayina would be harder. You expected to finally live a normal life, doing your chores without being sacred to be shot by sky people. Now you’re safe, but things didn’t get better.

Since your arrival, these boys were bullying all your siblings, including you. You have no idea why it is important for Ao’nung to see totally similar to him Na’vis. You all are same avatars with slight differences that were unavoidable due to the environment you’re supposed to live in. Oh, yeah… supposed to live.

“What are you even doing here?”

“You’re so useless to our tribe”

“Go back to your monkey house”

All these words almost engraved in you mind without leaving space for other thoughts and hope. It’s been two weeks since you arrived and you still haven’t ridden an Ilu successfully, you can’t hold your breath as Metkayinas do. This makes you feel horrible and believe all these mean words.

“C’mon, Y/N, you can do it!”

Neteyam is trying to teach you how to deal with ilu and his voice is so calming, he really believes in you as an older brother. You wish you could just believe him, but insecurity lays too deep and securely in your mind.

“I don’t know… I can’t…”

Your voice was really soft and quiet as you’re the calmest child in your family. You don’t like loud sounds and fast actions. That’s just the way you are. Neytiri says that Sylwanin was just like you.

Despite being slower and more sensitive that other Sullys they loved and protected you with all their heart. Jake knew that Kiri and Tuk are different, they can deal with their problems a lot easier, while you cannot. When something bad to your family or yourself happens, you worry a lot and you won’t tell anyone about your worries unless they make you to. That was the hardest part of you character.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you need to take a break? We can continue tomorrow, don’t worry yawntutsyip.”

Neteyam was worried about your mental state, you were too quiet these days and it never meant anything good. Trying to make you speak about your feelings was completely impossible. You always think that your family has too much to worry about to burden them with your own issues. You want to be like Kiri and Tuk. That’s hilarious, Tuk is way younger than you but she’s able to deal with her emotions way easier than you.

“I’m good. Can we just take a break for like half an hour? I think my brain melts.”

You awkwardly smiled at the end trying to lighten the mood. Neteyam smiled back, feeling relief as you seemed to be just tired. He didn’t want you to hide anything from him and your family.

“Okay, yawntutsyip. I’ll go find Lo’ak and make sure his ass hadn’t get in trouble again. Kiri is on that side of the beach by the way. You can join her, she’s probably flirting with plants again. Let’s meet here in an hour.”

You laughed at his little joke about Kiri. But that’s a fact. Since you arrived here all she’s been doing is examining all local flora and fauna. You missed your time together in the forest, maybe now you’ll have a chance to talk and just be together.

“Okay!”

“Tell me if something goes wrong.”

You knew this look. The big brother look. Sometimes you think how hard it would be for you to live without your family, the way you’re connected to them something really fascinating. And one of your love signs is time. Spending time with your family and each member is the way you show love, the way you feel protected and loved.

You see Kiri laying down in water and looking for something. She didn’t see anyone around, attracted by… water? You didn’t try to understand what’s going on in her mind.

“Hey, pandora geek.”

You stood in front of Kiri and the shadow from your body covered her. Only after that she raised her head and squinted at you.

“I thought you’re with Neteyam. What’s wrong?” She sat on the sand, water was covering her legs a little. You did the same thing, hugging your knees and placing your head on them.

“We took a break, my brain doesn’t work properly. I still can’t ride ilu.”

Hopeless sigh made your sister chuckle, but then she saw your eyes. They were full of sadness, you were not happy. Kiri felt guilt, as your sister she had to be with you, she forgot that Sullys stick together.

“What bothers you?” You were not sure if it’ll be okay to tell her everything. But you family always encourage you to speak what lays in your heart, so you decided to do it.

“There’s a lot… I miss home, I miss flying with you, Neteyam and Lo’ak around Hallelujah mountains.” You were vulnerable now and this is one of those rare moments when you opened your feelings easily. Kiri was the only one you did it with. You could feel tears coming to your eyes, you needed this. “I just miss our way of life. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to get used to it. Especially, when you always hear…”

“Hey monkeys! Still can’t ride ilu? How can you be so yaymak? You’re both freaks!” you could recognize this voice in millions. “One sister has demon blood, another is too dumb to do things that even infants can do!”

Ao’nung and his friends were coming towards you. Kiri’s body immediately tensed, you could feel it.

“What do you want? Is there nothing to do?”

Ao’nung and his friends came closer and you both stood up. Kiri was looking at him angrily, ready to fight. You were supposed to have such a good conversation, opening each other your soul, but this bully spoiled everything.

“My goal for now is to get rid of such fake Na’vis like you two and your stupid little brother.”

You were furious, how dare he talk like this about your family. Yes, he did say mean things to you, but he still picked his words. Now it’s too much. Nobody can talk about your family this way.

“Shut up and don’t get close to me and my siblings!” You tried to get into protective sister mode. Kiri was shocked by the way you raised your voice. She’s never heard such tone from you before.

“Look at this! Little girl knows how to talk?” Ao’nung was teasing you and laughing with Roxto and the rest of his friends. “Maybe you’ll learn how to swim properly soon by the time my future brother or sister will turn 10. Hopefully.”

You clenched your fists, trying to hold all your emotions. Anger, offense, sadness. It felt like a hurricane of extremely high spectrum of emotions, which was hard for you to bear.

“Don’t you dare…”

You didn’t control yourself that you were coming closer and pushing him. The reason why you felt this way was in him.

He did this to you.

You didn’t care that he was taller than you and all you faced was his shoulders. You didn’t care that he barely moved as you tried to hurt him as much as he hurt you. All he did was laughing. It seemed like Ao’nung didn’t understand anything you said, like he didn’t see you breaking into pieces right in front of you.

“Calm down, you little skxawng!” It was a joke for him. For you it was your last piece of composure.

“You’re dumb! So dumb that you can’t even understand how much pain you give me! Every day I wish I don’t meet you so you won’t shower me with all your shit! Every night I cry myself to sleep because all your mean words you’ve said hurt me! And you don’t understand me, how can you be so mean?”

You were screaming at him and trying to hit, mental breakdown took over your senses. You could physically feel how your heart hurts and legs weaken. All sounds were heard as if from under the water, you didn’t see what’s going on around you. Someone’s holding your shoulders and pushing you to their chest to not let you fall on your knees.

“Don’t touch her!”

Furious voice sounded from afar. Neteyam. Your brother who always protects you, surrounds you with love you need. That’s why he calls you yawntutsyip. Little loved one.

You could feel your brother as he came closer to you. His steps were as heavy as his mood. When he saw you breaking down in front of this asshole and because of this asshole, he almost lost his temper. The way chief’s son was holding and looking at you, finally realizing that his actions have consequences. He had to drive you crazy to understand it.

“Back off! Now!”

He pushed Ao’nung as he got closer to him, taking off his hands off you. You didn’t realize it was him, who held you all this time. Was it long? Actually, everything happened in less than 2 minutes, but for you it was like an infinity.

“What happened?”

Lo’ak was here, he saw you crying in Kiri’s hands and Neteyam fighting with Ao’nung and his friends. He didn’t need to check on all details to punch Roxto and other guys.

“It’s fine, we’re here. Don’t worry.” Kiri was sitting with you and slowly swaying, while tapping your head to calm you down.

“I’m sorry, I…” that’s all you could say.

Neither you nor Kiri noticed how the fight stopped until Neteyam came closer and examined you. His eyebrow was cut so as his lower lip, but he didn’t care. Now he could feel only your pain.

“Yawntutsyip… my sister.”

“I’m sorry, Neteyam. I didn’t…” You were gasping for breath from crying, not being able to collect your thoughts.

“Shhh, that’s fine, you’re fine. We’re here, nobody will hurt you again.” Kiri gave you to Neteyam, he was calming you down repeating the same moves as Kiri did. You were crying, letting all pain, that was suppressed inside of your soul, to flow through you.

Your siblings knew that you need to feel it to let it go. That is the only way for relief.

“Let’s go home, yawntutsyip?” Neteyam’s voice was calming as always, he hated seeing you crying.

You just nodded in agreement, hiding your face in brother’s neck and holding him as if someone can take you from him in any moment.

Yes, most Na’vis are brave, ready to fight and protect their beloved ones. But you just can’t do it. You are the one who needs to be protected. Eywa created you that way and you can do nothing about it.

“Don’t ever come to our sisters, you little bitch! Are you so insecure that you’re afraid to battle with me and choose those who are weaker than you?” Lo’ak didn’t miss to say the last goodbye before following after all of you. He didn’t wait for the answer, he didn’t need it.

Ao’nung was standing up there and looking as your figures disappear. No words are in his mind, except for one.

“Fuck”

————————————————————————

I hope you liked it! I’m not sure if I’ll write the second part🫣 I have an idea but idk if it’s worth it, we’ll see!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Tall Tales | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ;) )

Warnings: mentions of smut, canon gore, canon violence

Word Count: 3986

A/N: This episode was a challenge to write, but so much effing fun. I hope y’all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it!

(he's so sexy in this gif i'm nutting goodbye goodnight i'm gone)

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Dean refused to let you hunt for the next two weeks following your concussion. You were pissed off, but you knew it was for the best. When the brothers settled on a case, they stuck you in a motel room and would occasionally come check on you between hunting. They found something at a college in Tennessee, and that was about all they told you before putting you to bed for the next week. 

When Sam would come check on you early on, it was to make sure you had enough water or food in your mini fridge. He’d always bring a book with him to sit with you while you rested. When you could finally tolerate the sound of other people’s voices again without going cross-eyed, you got him to read it to you. 

He snorted. “You want me to read you a bedtime story?” 

You deadpanned at him. “Yes, asshole. Please?”

“Okay,” he laughed. The book was called The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, and you were completely fascinated. Sam’s voice would often soothe you to sleep as he recounted bits of Egypt’s history to you.

Between Sam’s visits and hours spent staring at the ceiling or pacing, Dean would visit. Most often, he’d come to your room at night. Not for any sexual purposes; in fact, when you suggested you have sex, he was fervently against it.

“Why?” you’d asked. 

“ ‘Cause you’re still hurt,” he replied simply, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you to his chest. “And…”

“And?” you prompted, tilting your head up at him.

“I just wanna be with you right now,” he admitted quietly. 

You smiled against Dean’s neck, nuzzling into him.

***

Sam was clearly pissed off with Dean the next time he came to visit you. 

“What’s goin’ on?” you’d asked.

He sighed, “Just Dean being… Dean. “ He sat at the foot of your bed as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. “How’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints yet,” you smirked. 

Sam made a bitch face at you. “Really? Elvira?”

“Of course. I love her,” you giggled.

“Seriously. How is it?” 

You shrugged. “Same ol’ same ol’. I’ll live. How’s your, uh, mental state?”

“I knew you were gonna ask that.” Sam shook his head. 

“C’mon, you can tell me anything. What’s goin’ on?” you questioned, scooching closer to him. 

The brunet seemed thoughtful for a minute. “I, uh, don’t really know.” He chuckled awkwardly. “I’m really gettin’ worried, (Y/N). After Wandall and what I did to Jo—”

You cut him off. “Sam, that wasn’t you. We’ve been over this—”

“Yeah, but still. It’s been really bothering me.” You replied, “Well, yeah, that’s to be expected. Meg took you for a hell of a ride.” You thought for a second about your words. “Gross.”

Sam laughed before becoming serious again. He seemed to be thinking deeply about how to talk to you. “I’m really worried about what’s happening to me. Especially since…”

“Since what?” you prompted.

“Since you wouldn’t shoot.” You dropped your head back, sighing. “Sam, we’ve been over this. If you really go dark side, I’ll do it. But it seemed like your conscious mind wasn’t doing those things. It seemed like psychosis, almost. I’m not gonna kill you over that.”

“Well, then, when does it end?” he argued. “Conscious or not, I killed someone. And you saw it happen. And you still wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, because I care about you, Sam. You’re my best friend. It’s gonna take a lot for me to gank you,” you scoffed.

He softened a bit and sighed. “I get it,” the brunet muttered. “I just… I feel like I’m getting closer and closer to it every day. And I don’t know how to stop it. And Dean’s freaked, but he won’t talk to me about it. I’m sick of him pretending that everything’s fine.”

“Well, you know how he is,” you reminded him. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Still.”

“I hate to tell you this,” you began, fiddling with the hem of the quilt on your lap, “but the more freaked out you are, the more susceptible you are to—” “To demonic possession,” he finished. “Yeah, I know.” “And if that’s what this ‘dark side’ thing is supposed to be, we gotta get you back under control,” you continued. 

Sam nodded pensively. A mischievous look crossed his face suddenly. “So, uh, how’s things with you and—?”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, flopping back on your head. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“I mean, yeah, I’ve seen the two of you. I’m not completely blind,” he chortled. “So, talk.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know, honestly. I don’t— I just— with everything going on, I don’t wanna… go there, y’know?”

He made a face at you.

You chucked a pillow at him. “I’m not talking about our sex life, dipshit. I don’t wanna make him commit to me with everything happening. But, then again, we’re hunters. We’re never not gonna have tons of shit goin’ on.”

“I mean, do you want a relationship with him?” Sam asked.

“Eh, I don’t know,” you shrugged unconvincingly.

“Don’t lie.”

“Fine, I do.” Sam laughed.

“But I don’t want to want that, y’know?” You cringed at yourself. “God, I sound like a sixth grader with a crush.”

“Yeah, you do,” Sam snorted. “But I’m happy for you guys. I want you guys to be happy.”

***

The next time Dean came to visit, he was carrying a case of beer. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be hunting?” you asked, throwing your journal aside.

“Alright, fine, I’ll leave,” he smirked, turning back to the door.

“No, no!” you said, bounding over to him. You spun him around and kissed him gently. “Stay.”

“Always,” he said against your lips.

***

Something you were beginning to learn about Dean was his love languages. You were big on psychology. Though you knew he wasn’t and would never let you pick his brain aloud, it was fun to do in your head. Given the way he redressed your head wound in the earlier days of your admittedly severe concussion, made you dinner, and did your laundry, you deduced he liked to give love through acts of service. 

However, he seemed to be hellbent on not receiving it in that way. He refused to let you redress the wound on his shoulder until the dressings Jo put on it were saturated in seeping fluid. 

“Dean, you’re gonna start growing a science experiment in there. Let me help you,” you’d said, more stating it than begging. 

“I’m fine, (Y/N). Seriously.”

You got your first aid box out of your duffel and threw over your shoulder, “This is not up for debate. Come here.” 

With a reluctant sigh, he did eventually listen to you. Given the beers he brought you, the crappy movies, the card games, and hours spent just in each other’s company, you figured his receiving love language was quality time. And you were more than happy to give that to him.

***

On day twelve, you were insistent you could spar with Dean again. He was insistent, however, that he wouldn't do it.

"Dean! C'mon, man! It doesn't even hurt anymore," you protested, putting your hair up in a ponytail.

"(Y/N), I'm not gonna risk hurting you—"

"Dean!" you warned. "I'm rusty. If I'm gonna help you guys with this hunt in two days, please, dude, I'm begging you."

"Fine," he grumbled. "Don't say I didn't warn you, though."

You smirked, preparing your fighting stance. He eyed you challengingly, his smirk encouraging you to rush him. You did so, and he easily dodged you. However, you had prepared for that scenario, and whipped your back leg around to hit him in the stomach while he dodged you.

Dean grunted, and you jumped back from him. You aimed a punch toward his jaw, which he blocked easily. Several more punches were thrown between the two of you before you got fed up.

"Stop holding back!" you pushed.

"I"m not," he argued unconvincingly, throwing a sloppy left hook at you.

"Your form is shit, you're barely out of breath, and you're mostly on the defensive," you replied. "Stop holding back. You won't break me."

"(Y/N)—"

"Dean," you cut him off. "Vamps aren't gonna hold back. Whatever we're dealing with isn't gonna hold back. I'm healed enough. Quit it."

He finally did listen, making you incredibly happy. Beating Dean Winchester in hand-to-hand combat was nearly impossible given the size and muscular advantage he had against you. However, your father had trained you well on how to use speed and endurance to your advantage.

You fought with Dean for quite a few rounds before he knocked you back into the dresser in your motel room, and you hit the back of your head on the corner.

"See? I told you that was gonna happen," he said angrily. Although, you knew he was more angry with himself than he was with you.

"I'm fine," you replied, standing and rubbing the back of your head. "Again."

"No," Dean asserted, turning away from you. He shrugged his jacket back on.

"Wha— Where are you going?" you questioned, becoming aggravated with his stubbornness. "I said I'm fine, Dean. Again."

"We're done for today, (Y/N)," he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

You scoffed. "I hate it when you do this."

"Yeah, well," Dean said gruffly, "I hate it when you act like a stubborn brat. Why is it so wrong that I don't wanna hurt you?"

"Because I'm asking you to!" you argued. "Hurt me! Don't fucking go easy on me! I already gave you my reasons why you shouldn't! I'd rather you hurt me than whatever we're up against!"

"I get that, (Y/N), but you can't ask me to fucking do that," he responded, turning to face you. "I won't hurt you."

You sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dean."

"Yeah. See you," he grumbled. Then, you heard the door slam shut behind him.

***

You knew your fight had been stupid. You sat by the door all day, anxiously awaiting Dean's return. Just when you were beginning to lose hope that he'd show, you heard a knock on the door.

"Hey," you said awkwardly, opening the door for him to come in.

"Hey," he replied.

"I'm sorry. I was being stupid. I wouldn't do that to you if you asked me," you told him, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"I'm sorry, too. I didn't wanna shut you out," he said, unable to meet your eyes.

You grabbed his hand, making him look up at you. "Hey, you know the only reason I asked you to do that was because I trust you so much, right?"

Dean nodded. "How's your head? I didn't hurt ya too bad, did I?"

You shook your head. "Can't even feel it," you smiled.

***

By day fourteen of concussion recovery, you were clawing at the walls; ready to hunt again. You strolled back into their room at nine in the morning that day to get a run-down of the case so you could get back to your job.

“Thank god you're here,” Dean exhaled, getting off the bed he was lounging on when you walked in.

You snorted. “What, two weeks without me and you can’t function?”

Dean scoffed. “No.” He paused. “Well, kinda.”

“What’s been happening? And… why couldn’t you tell me anything about the case before this moment?” you asked.

“I, uh, I wasn’t sure if you’d believe us,” Sam told you.

You sat in the chair across from him, crossing your arms. “Why not?”

“It's just, we've never seen anything like it—”

“Not even close,” Dean chimed in.

“Oh-kay, well, why don’t you start from the beginning?” You leaned back in your chair and crossed your slender legs, knowing this was going to be a long conversation.

Sam huffed, gearing up for his story. “So, a professor took a nosedive from a fourth story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So we pretexted as reporters from the local paper—”

“Pretexted?” you cut Sam off. “Okay, professor.”

He made a bitchface at you. “Would ya let me talk?”

“Fine, fine. Keep going.”

“I found these two kids at a bar who had the professor for Ethics and Morality. Both of ‘em said there was nothing about this guy that would’ve suggested he’d jump— I mean, wife, kids, tenured— everything. And the girl— her name was Jen— said she didn’t think it was suicide,” Sam explained. “Apparently, there’s this urban legend from about thirty years ago about a girl having an affair with a professor. He broke it off, and she jumped out the window of room 669. Anybody who sees her dies.” Sam shot a look at Dean. “Dean was supposed to be talkin’ to other locals, figuring out if the urban legend was even real, but, he, uh, got distracted.”

You straightened in your seat, shooting a look at Dean. “Distracted how?”

“He was too busy slamming purple nurples to even string together a coherent sentence,” Sam scoffed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I was not!” Dean protested. 

“What, so you never drank a purple nurple?”

“Yeah, maybe that, but I wasn’t wasted,” the older brother argued. “I just took a few shots with this classy chick. She was a grad student, anthropology and folklore. We were talking about local ghost stories.”

You quirked a brow at Dean, jealousy beginning to burn in your chest.

“She was, uh, more interested in me than talking about ghost stories, but I cut her loose before the poor girl embarrassed herself,” Dean said.

“Ah, what a saint,” you cooed sarcastically.

Dean shot you a look. “And then Sam came over like, ‘Dean! What do you think you’re doing?’ He thought I was chattin’ her up instead of focusing on the case. Which, I wasn’t— thank you, Sam— everything was just blah, blah, blah, lecture, lecture, lecture,” Dean continued.

“Right! And that's how it really happened,” Sam scoffed.

Dean shrugged.

“Sam, did he make out with the chick or not?” you questioned.

Sam seemed taken aback. “Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about? But no, he didn’t.”

The tension in your body released.

“And I don’t sound like that, Dean!” Sam turned back to his brother.

“That's what you sound like to me,” the older brother shrugged.

You flicked your gaze between the two of them. “What’s going on with you guys?”

“Nothing. No— it's nothing,” Sam sighed.

“No, come on. You're bickering like an old married couple,” you snickered.

Dean got up and moved over to the kitchenette behind you. “No, see, married couples can get divorced. Me and him, we're like, uh, Siamese twins.”

“It’s conjoined twins!” Sam immediately corrected him.

“See what I mean?” Dean kept his gaze on you and gestured to his brother.

“Look, it—” the brunet sighed again, “—we've just been on the road for too long. Tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it.”

You nodded.

“So, anyway. We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime,” Sam continued. “We went and talked to the janitor, pretexting as electricians. He said he’d been workin’ there for six years, let us into the professors’ office, and told us he was the one who found the guy. He said the professor brought somebody up with him, and that was the thing to distract Dean from the nuts he was stuffing his face with.”

“Come on! I ate one, maybe two!” Dean protested.

“Just let me tell it, okay?” Sam shot back. “Anyway, janitor says the cops never found the girl the professor was with, and he didn’t even see her leave the room. But apparently, the professor brought girls up a lot. Maybe you missed that, Dean, since you were too busy snacking to focus on anything else.”

Dean glared at his brother.

“And get this?” Sam told you. “There is no room 669. And the professor’s office was clean of EMF. Next, we thought we should probably check the history of the building. Of course, I couldn’t do that, because my computer was frozen on bustyasianbeauties.com.” The younger brother spoke pointedly at Dean, who seemed dumbfounded, honestly. 

“Dude, I told you, I wasn’t on your laptop,” Dean grunted.

“Well, did you dig up anything about the building? Or on the suicidal chick?” you asked.

“No. History's clean,” Sam replied.

“Then it's not a haunting,” you stated.

“Maybe not. Tell you the truth, we're not really sure,” Dean replied.

“What do you mean, you're not sure?”

Sam spoke up again. “Well… it’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” You asked, feeling like you were pulling teeth.

“This next part, we, uh, we didn't see it happen ourselves exactly, but it's pretty fucking weird. Even for us,” Dean chuckled in disbelief. “Apparently, this guy got beamed up on his walk home. Right outside of Crawford Hall.”

“ ‘Beamed up’?” you questioned. “Like… Star Trek? Aliens?!”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded.

“Aliens,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah.”

“Look, even if they are real, they're sure as hell not coming to earth and swiping people,” you said.

“Hey, believe me. We know,” the older brother replied.

“I’ve been hunting my whole life and never found any evidence of real alien abduction,” you shook your head. “It’s all bullshit.”

“Yeah, that's what we thought. But… we figured we'd at least talk to the guy,” Sam said.

Dean picked up the story then. “Found the guy drinkin’ himself into oblivion. He thought we wouldn’t believe him. Honestly, I still don’t know if I do.”

Sam cut his older brother off. “He said he blacked out, and when he woke up, he was, um—”

“He got probed,” Dean chuckled. “Some alien made him their bitch. And apparently, they did it a lot.”

Sam snickered. “He said… He said they made him slow dance, too. I mean, what the hell?”

You scoffed. “You guys are exaggerating again, right?”

“No, not at all,” Sam responded.

“Then this kid’s just nuts,” you stated.

“We're not so sure,” Dean argued. “There was a— a scorch mark in the ground outside Crawford Hall. Perfect circle.”

“Had to have been made by some kinda jet engine,” Sam cut in. “There’s nothing else it could’ve been. Given the timing alone, I figured, there’s gotta be some kind of connection.”

“I still wasn’t completely convinced,” Dean added. “I mean, between the angry spirit and sexed-up ET? What the hell. But what could we do? So we just kept on digging. We talked to this guy in probe-guy’s frat. Sammy did his whole 'I’m here for you, you brave little soldier’ speech, gave the guy a hug— the whole thing made me nauseous—”

“I never said that!” Sam argued.

“You're always saying pansy stuff like that,” Dean rebutted. “Would you let me talk?”

Sam quieted down, still upset.

“Anyway, the guy tells us that probe-guy was a huge dick. Apparently, he was going probe-level-stuff to his pledges this semester. And that was the one connection I could make out— both the victims are dicks. Think about it. A philandering professor gets a dead girl. A pledge master gets hazed. And that was when Sam started flippin’ out about his laptop— which I didn’t touch, by the way!— and started insulting my food—”

“It's not food anymore, Dean!” Sam cut in. “It's Darwinism.”

“I like it!” Dean scoffed.

Sam kept going. “All I ask from you, the one thing, is that you don't mess with my stuff!”

“And then he threatened my car, (Y/N),” Dean said. You knew he was serious, but his dramatics drew a laugh from you.

“Did you take his computer?” you questioned.

“Serves him right, but, no,” Dean replied.

Sam glared at Dean. “Well, I didn't lose it. 'Cause I don't lose things.”

“Oh, that's right, yeah, 'cause he's Mr. Perfect.”

You talked over them. “Okay, okay. Why don't you just tell me what happened next?”

Dean huffed. “There was one more victim.”

“Right. Now, we- we didn't see this one ourselves, either,” Sam began hesitantly. “We kind of put it together from the evidence. But this guy— He was, uh, he was a research scientist. Animal testing.”

“Yeah, you know, a dick,” Dean added. “Which fits the pattern. Cops didn't release the cause of death 'cause they had no clue what the cause was.”

“So, we checked it ourselves,” Sam chimed in.

“Yeah,” the older Winchester confirmed. “I’m tellin’ you, (Y/N), those remains were gnarly. Looked like somethin’ was chompin’ on him. Again, happened right outside Crawford Hall. Then, Sam found a belly scale. From an alligator.”

“Classic urban legend,” Sam broke in. “A kid flushes a baby gator down the toilet, and it grows huge in the tunnels.”

“This can’t get any weirder,” you shook your head.

“Then we tried callin’ Bobby—” Sam said, “since you were still down for the count. He was caught up in another case, though. So, we decided to search the sewer. We split up, each taking one end of campus.”

“Did you find anything?” you asked.

“Yeah, I found something, just not in the sewer,” Dean began, getting frustrated. “Sam fucked up my car. He let all the air out my tires. He’s gonna bend the rims!”

“Why would he do that?” you questioned.

“I don’t know! ‘Cause he thinks I screwed with his computer or something!” Dean responded angrily. 

“I told you, Dean, I didn’t go near your car,” Sam said. 

“And how do you even know it was him?” you asked.

“ ‘Cause I found his money clip by my car. I’m keepin’ it for reparations. For, uh, emotional trauma,” Dean snarked. “Then, he full-on tackles me trying to get it back.”

“Oh, come on, I did not tackle you—”

Dean cut Sam off. “Oh yeah? Then how’d we end up on the floor?”

“ ‘Cause you’re an idiot, that’s why!”

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough,” you broke in. 

The two boys stared at you.

“You showed up about an hour after that,” Dean finished.

“I'm surprised at you two. I really am,” you sighed. “Sam, first off, Dean did not steal your computer.”

“But I—” Sam argued.

“Shh! Shh,” you scolded. “And, Dean, Sam did not touch your car.”

“Yeah!” the younger brother petulantly cried, staring at Dean.

“Sam,” you warned. “And if you two would’ve pulled your heads out of your asses for a second, you probably would’ve figured out what we’re dealin’ with.”

Sam looked confused and looked over at Dean.

The older Winchester shrugged. “I got nothin’.”

“Me neither.” Sam looked back at you.

“A trickster,” you announced.

Dean snapped his fingers triumphantly. “That's what I thought.”

“What?! No, you didn't,” Sam argued.

You snickered. “You guys were the biggest clue.”

“What do you mean?” The brunet quirked his head at you.

“These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight,” you explained.

“The laptop,” Sam realized.

“The tires,” Dean immediately added.

“It knows you're onto him, and it's been playing you as a result,” you nodded.

“So, what is it, what- what, spirit, demon, what?” Dean asked.

“Well, more like demigods, really. There's Loki in Scandinavia, Anansi in West Africa; dozens of them. They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. Make ‘em vanish just as quick,” you continued. “The victims fit the M.O., too. Tricksters target pricks, knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor— deadly pranks, things like that.”

“(Y/N), what do these things look like?” Dean said, and you could tell he was realizing something.

“Lots of things, but human, mostly,” you shrugged.

Dean looked over at Sam. “And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?”

It took Sam a moment, and he frowned, but finally caught on. “The janitor.”

***

Sam and Dean decided they would stage a huge fight right where the trickster could see them discussing whether or not the janitor was your guy or not. As night began to fall, you were supposed to meet Sam outside Crawford Hall to help Dean confront the trickster because you knew he’d be looking for Dean after the two brothers separated.

You and Sam followed the slow, sexy eighties music down the hall to the auditorium, and you flanked both doors leading down into it. You stood at the top of the stairs, waiting to catch the trickster off-guard. You clutched your stake tightly as you took in the two women on a bed on the stage dressed in lingerie, looking at Dean like they were going to eat him alive. Anger bubbled in your chest at the thought.

“Look, man, I— I got to tell you, I dig your style, alright?” Dean told the trickster, who was seated in the audience with his back to you. Dean chuckled. “I do. I mean, the slow-dancing alien—”

“One of my personal favorites. Yeah,” the trickster said. You could hear the grin in his voice.

“But, uh, I can't let you go,” Dean told him.

“Too bad. Like I said, I like you. Sam was right. You shouldn't've come alone,” the trickster replied.

“Well, I'll agree with you there,” Dean said darkly.

You slammed the door shut behind you, as did Sam. 

“That fight you guys had outside— that was a trick?” the trickster asked.

Dean grinned.

The trickster hummed. “Hm. Not bad. But you want to see a real trick?”

A masked man with a chainsaw suddenly appeared near Sam and attacked him. You immediately ran to his aid, jumping on the back of the man and grabbing his arm.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Sam asked you over the roaring of the chainsaw.

“Probably, yeah!” you yelled. You wrapped your arms around the masked man’s neck, trying to close his airway. “Does this thing even have a windpipe? Can it even suffocate?”

Suddenly, you were flying down the steps of the auditorium.

“Ooh, that’s gotta hurt,” the janitor commented, chewing on a sandwich he was suddenly holding.

“Oh, fuck you!” you said, getting up to charge him. 

One of the girls from the stage appeared before you suddenly, throwing you back down to the floor.

“Nice toss, gorgeous!” you heard the trickster cheer.

You reared back and kicked the woman squarely in the stomach, sending her stumbling back. You wrestled with her continuously, until suddenly, she disappeared from underneath you. You looked up to see Dean stabbing the trickster through the chest. 

“That’s my boy,” you smiled under your breath.

The trickster fell back into the seat behind him, dead.

Sam approached you and helped you off the ground. “You didn’t hit your head again, did you?”

“No, no,” you laughed. “I think I’m okay.”

Dean walked over to you and Sam. “You guys okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam nodded.

“Well, I gotta say... he had style,” the older brother chuckled. You helped Dean up the steps, bearing the brunt of his weight given the many injuries he sustained.

“Alright, let's just get the hell out of dodge before somebody finds that body,” you said, putting Dean in the backseat of the car.

Sam ducked down into the front seat beside you, and you started the Impala.

“Look, Dean, um... I just want to say that I'm, uh— Um…” Sam couldn’t seem to muster an “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. Me too,” Dean nodded.

You snickered. “You guys are breaking my heart.”

“Shut up, (Y/N),” the boys groaned in unison. 

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

hi!

we see harry’s anger truly manifest in ootp, and it was a treat reading your analysis on his ptsd!

but it’s been a longheld belief in the fandom that harry is this firecracker with concerningly poor anger management. which is absurd, frankly imo, because i understand his default style is quiet, intense intimidation, or sass and snark. except when his fury reaches the threshold of his control, and he lets go fully and spectacularly. we also see in the later books that harry keeps trying to rein in the onslaught of fury pouring from voldemort, and while he does channel that anger outwardly, he isn’t making a habit of frequently lashing out at the people around him.

what i’m really asking is, what are your thoughts on harry’s anger and how he manages his frustrations from age eleven to seventeen?

Hello 👋

Thank you! I love my boy Harry and his anger and trauma so much! His trauma doesn't manifest in the way most fandoms usually like to portray trauma, but I always loved how Harry breaks when he reaches his threshold. He's a fascinating character and I find myself disappointed in his treatment over the years in fanon.

As to your question, boy, okay, this is complex and is greatly affected by Harry's mental state. I mentioned here how his anger is often colder and sassier and the fiery anger that's all shouting and cursing is something we only really see from him in OotP and onwards and I believe is the result of trauma, as I mentioned here & here.

But I decided, you know what? I can take a few scenes of his anger from each book. It's something I have a lot of notes about, and I'm surprised I haven't written about it here yet since it's a subject I love talking about.

Now, I do think he has issues with emotional regulation in general. I mean, he was raised in a cupboard under the stairs, he is not emotionally well-adjusted even if he knows to appear as if he is. His anger and how it manifests is a result of years of trauma and abuse. Honestly, though, he manages his anger better than he could have considering his life experience.

So without further ado:

Philosopher's Stone:

In the first book, we see Harry angry at the Dursleys and their unfair treatment of him. This anger is interesting. He has every reason to be angry but it isn't just anger. It's his frustration and helplessness that he feels as anger because he lacks the tools to understand/deal with his emotions.

How we see this anger come out though, is mostly through sass. And even then he makes sure to run/duck away before they could hurt him:

“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harry. “Want to come upstairs and practice?” “No, thanks,” said Harry. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it — it might be sick.” Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he’d said.

(PS, Ch3)

Harry doesn't really have the luxury to get angry or upset because he's the one who would suffer for it. So, he bottles up all his anger and frustration and only lets it out in cold glares and sass even when he's fuming inside. In his heart of hearts, he wishes he could do something to the Dursleys, to hurt them back, but he can't.

I do want to note that Harry's hold on his range isn't him managing it well, it's him bottling it up. This would be very relevant later in this post.

The incident with the Boa Constrictor is one I like. Harry later refers to it as revenge in a moment of anger:

and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?

(PS, Ch4)

“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror. Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

(PS, Ch2)

He's unaware that he's doing it, of course, but Harry's magic is powerful and incredibly attuned to him, so of course, it acts up when he's angry. Of course, his magic gets revenge on Dudley when Harry is so angry but feels helpless to do something with it. Harry's magic here shows Harry wishes he could do something, that he could take revenge:

Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian. “I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.”

(PS, Ch5)

He just can't. So he bottles up his anger instead.

The other person we see Harry angry at in the first book, is Snape. Harry responds to Snape quite similar to how he responds to the Dursleys:

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys’, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi? Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. “I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?” A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus’s eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

(PS, Ch8)

He gets angry, inside his head he is fuming, but outside his head, Snape hears a sassy retort said quietly and calmly. Even when Harry is angry he acts calm and quiet and looks like he's joking from Seamus' response. It's why it's so easy for Snape to believe Harry is like James. Harry doesn't show his anger. External he's quiet and sassy becouse he knows if he started shouting he'd be punished more (like at the Dursleys).

So, 11-year-old Harry is quiet outside when angry. Only really shows glares and sass when he's upset while bottling his feelings up. This would continue throughout the years until year 5, for the most part.

Chamber of Secrets:

We see more of this way of handling his anger in CoS (though way less). CoS is not a very angry book, but I found a few examples.

“I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggleloving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it —” Harry felt a hot surge of anger.

(CoS, Ch4)

Harry is angry. He likes the Weasleys and hates hearing them being talked about like this. Still, no one else sees his anger because he's hiding, and he knows he'd be worse off if he left his hiding spot. Harry isn't all that impulsive (yet). He just swallows his anger down for the sake of what needs to be done — in this case hiding.

“Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home.” He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself. [...] Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, “Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make — ” “Your Bludger?” said Harry, anger rising once more. “What d’you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?”

(CoS, Ch10)

Here, we see more of Harry's usual anger and how he bottles everything up. He is rightfully angry at Dobby for everything he did, but he also feels pity for him, his anger doesn't cloud Harry's ability to empathize with others. And if you look at the second quote, you see that in his head Harry is rightfully angry at an attempt to murder him but he's talking calmly and quietly. He isn't shouting. He isn't being violent or impolite. Harry's anger, as seen by others, is cold and quiet because he bottles it up.

“And why did you want to meet me?” said Harry. Anger was coursing through him, and it was an effort to keep his voice steady.

(CoS, Ch17)

This is later, when facing Tom. Harry feels betrayed. He wanted so bad to be Tom's freind, he tried so much to ignore what was happening so he could keep his new BFF and first crush. But when he is betrayed, he gets angry, rightfully so, again. And we see he isn't shouting or acting angry and rashly. He's speaking steadily and quietly and makes an active effort to do so.

Harry knows how he comes off and is actively trying to make his voice steady and not sound angry/scared! He's smart and not impulsive. He's very aware of his external behavior and actively conceals his anger from appearing externally.

My boy is angry, but he isn't a brash hothead.

I do want to note another thing about Harry's anger. Harry responds with anger when he's scared, when he's grieving, when he feels helpless. Anger is just the easiest emotional response for him to go to, and it's why he reacts with anger to a lot of the things he goes through. Anger is an emotion he understands, so everything kinda feels like anger that he can keep pushing down.

Prisoner of Azkaban:

In PoA, we have a few interesting scenes showcasing Harry's anger really well. Some of the anger descriptions from this book are my favorite by far but we'll get to it.

This is the first book we start seeing Harry act out in anger. Until now, we saw Harry fuming inside but acting calm to the outside world. In PoA, he still mostly does that, but we start seeing him cracking under the weight of life. That bottle he's been filling up for years is close to it's threshold.

just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters. “COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!” But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. “She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.”  He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door. “I’m going,” Harry said. “I’ve had enough.”

(PoA, Ch2)

This above has Harry acting rashly and impulsively in anger. He is ready to just up and go in a moment of rage with little to no forethought which isn't how Harry usually operates. Aunt Marge and Vernon just made him reach his tipping point. Some of that anger has spilled out and Harry's acting out because he doesn't know what else to do.

This is a kid who up to this point never even had the chance to grieve his dead parents properly. He never got to just sit there and feel any of what he's going through. He just keeps swallowing it down and here, we see him start to slip. What he's been pushing down is starting to become too much.

I will note that still, even when he is more brash and angry here, he isn't shouting. He's speaking calmly and evenly even as he's raging inside.

I also want to note the situation with Hermione over the Firebolt:

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione. “What did you go running to McGonagall for?” [...] Harry knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn’t stop him from being angry with her. He had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, he didn’t know whether he would ever see it again. He was positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests? Ron was furious with Hermione too.

(PoA, Ch11-12)

Harry is mad at Hermione, he has his reasons to be, but he understands why she did it. He is angry, but he's smart and empathetic and he knows Hermione. He knows she only wants him safe, he's still mad, but he doesn't shout at her like Ron does. He pushes his anger down because he doesn't want to upset her. He;s not as furious as Ron is.

In the early books, we see Ron stepping forward to curse Malfoy, shout at Hermione, or stop talking to Harry over the tournament. Ron's the one that is more hot-headed in the early books and springs to act in moments of anger while Harry tends to stay cool-headed (because he pushes his anger down). He is angry inside his head, but he stays calm outside and even stops Ron from going after Malfoy (eat slugs incident, Harry tried to stop him).

(I will note this might have to do with Ron having siblings. Letting your emotions out is a good thing. It is a good thing to tell people you are close to you are upset with them. Arguing with your siblings and shouting at them on occasion can even be healthy! It can keep you from creating grudges and getting bitter. It's not necessarily bad. It's just that Harry and Hermione didn't have siblings and don't know how healthy arguments between people who love each other (which is what Ron is going for with Hermione above) work.)

One of my favorite moments of Harry's anger in the series is everything to do with Sirius when he thinks he's guilty:

A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness

(PoA, Ch11)

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill. [...] “NO YOU DON’T!” roared Harry, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatched up his wand and turned — “Get out of the way!” he shouted at Ron and Hermione. They didn’t need telling twice. [...] Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black’s heart. “Going to kill me, Harry?” he whispered. Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black’s chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black’s left eye and his nose was bleeding. “You killed my parents,” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

(PoA, Ch17)

This is the first occurrence we see Harry in a true rage. The kind of anger that pushes him to act impulsively and violently. Harry actually screams in rage.

It's not unreasonable, he thinks Sirius betrayed his parents, these same parents Harry never really got the chance to mourn. But Harry doesn't really shout when angry, he's quiet in his anger usually. But here he actually roars out. He demands Ron and Hermione move from his way, he kicks Crookchanks and goes to kill Sirius. Harry is acting completely from anger without really thinking or realizing what he's doing. This is the kind of rage where you see red and don't really know what you're doing until you're doing it.

I love how he describes it: "coursing through Harry like poison". It's just such a visceral description for a very visceral emotion. This isn't Harry's usual anger, this is rage, this is beyond his usual anger. It's the type of anger most fans associate with him because of OotP. This uncontrolled rage that pushes him to be impulsive is a trauma response. It comes up when Harry is at an emotional low. When there's too much, when he feels to many things and he can't handle them all so he lashes out in anger.

In this case, Harry is facing the man he believes sold out his parents, who trusted him, of course, he's angry and betrayed. Of course, it's different from the anger he feels when Snape is being a dick. It is different. It's rage, and grief, and fear, and pain, and it's a cry for help.

Harry has an impressive capacity to bottle up his emotions, but from book 3, we see him teetering on the threshold. And it just gets worse from here (like his experiences in the books).

Goblet of Fire:

GoF is a rough year, and Harry is very angry throughout this year. Still, we see his usual "cold anger" not his rage. He's angry inside his head, we see it, but he doesn't act out on any of it, nor does he even say anything about it. He's bottling it all up. If we weren't reading his thoughts, we probably wouldn't have these gems of anger:

Harry’s ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. He passed Snape, walked with Ron to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. Ron was shaking with anger too — for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry alone at his table. On the other side of the dungeon, Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room. Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, Ch18)

Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing “We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter ” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight.

(GoF, Ch20)

Harry spends a good chunk of GoF wishing he could curse Snape, other students, and even Ron occasionally. He feels helpless and that makes him angry. But he doesn't actually curse anyone. He doesn't even sass Snape in the above example, he just glares.

But you'll notice, again, the way he handles his anger/other issues is not really about mastering the emotion and letting it go. No, Harry just holds that anger in. He never learned to let it go, so all the times, his anger came off as cold and chill to others; it's because Harry's keeping a lid on things. By GoF, Harry can barely keep the cap on:

From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments. “Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?” “Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?” “Hey — Harry!” “Yeah, that’s right!” Harry found himself shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. “I’ve just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I’m just off to do a bit more. . . .” “No — it was just — you dropped your quill.” It was Cho. Harry felt the color rising in his face.

(GoF, Ch19)

And so we get scenes like the above. Harry is walking around like a powder keg waiting to explode. He has been bottling his frustration and anger all his life, he comes off as chill not because he manages it well but because he hides it. He makes his voice steady and quiet because it's what he learned at the Dursleys, but it's not that the anger disappears, he holds onto all of it. That's why the worse the situation is, the worse Harry's anger is. He doesn't have the capacity to push it all down.

And this is why he occasionally starts blowing up in GoF. The more helpless and frustrated he is, the more his bottle is filled and he just can't handle it beyond a certain point.

Order of the Pheonix:

OotP is Harry at his angriest. If I wanted to copy all the qoutes from this book that show Harry's anger, I'd probably have to copy the whole book. As it is, I've hand-picked a few examples:

“SO YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN’T YOU? YOU’VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I’VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO’VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT — WHO SAVED THE SORCERER’S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?” Every bitter and resentful thought that Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him; his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told about it: All the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries. Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off on top of the wardrobe again; Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed even faster around their heads. “WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!” [...] Harry was not sure his anger had abated yet; but his thirst for information was now overcoming his urge to keep shouting. He sank onto the bed opposite the others.

(OotP, Ch4)

There are two aspects I want to note about his anger here. Harry, as I mentioned above, even when he is mad at Ron and Hermione, he usually doesn't shout at them like this. This is Harry way past his threshold, traumatized with no idea how to handle any of the emotions he's feeling. Ron and Hermione are getting the brunt of that bottle exploding here.

And Harry has a good reason to be angry with them here, don't get me wrong. Harry usually has really good reasons to be angry. I'm just noting that he would have held back his anger if he wasn't in the worst emotional state we've seen from him up to this point. If he had the capacity in his bottle of emotions, Ron and Hermione wouldn't even know he was upset with them.

The other thing I want to bring up is the second section from the above quote. After Harry lets out a bit of the steam he's been building up for years by this point he swallows it down and caps it again because he wants information. He's still angry, he's still upset, but he holds his tongue to get information. He still doesn't feel free or capable of explaining why he's feeling what he's feeling. A lot of it isn't just anger at Ron and Hermione. It's everything. And he has no idea how to parse what he's feeling.

Like I mentioned in the past, Harry doesn't like showing weakness, he doesn't tend to act emotionally or rashly because he knows how people see it. But he isn't actually letting go of all that anger, he lets it build up:

“Harry?” said Hermione tentatively. “Well done,” said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and still not looking at her. “Brilliant. Prefect. Great.” “Thanks,” said Hermione. “Erm — Harry — could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They’ll be really pleased — I mean, prefect is something they can understand —” “Yeah, no problem,” said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. “Take her!”

(OotP, Ch9)

And up.

He just keeps pushing his anger down. If Sirius hadn't noticed and told him that he and James weren't prefects either, Harry would've kept stewing in it. Because he wouldn't have told Ron and Hermione he was jealous because he doesn't really tell anyone shit. He just lets it build:

“Oh, shut up, the pair of you,” said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. “Can’t you give it a rest?” he said. “You’re always having a go at each other, it’s driving me mad.” And abandoning his shepherd’s pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there. He walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time, past the many students hurrying toward lunch. The anger that had just flared so unexpectedly still blazed inside him, and the vision of Ron and Hermione’s shocked faces afforded him a sense of deep satisfaction. Serve them right, he thought. Why can’t they give it a rest? . . . Bickering all the time . . . It’s enough to drive anyone up the wall. . . .

(OotP, Ch12)

And keeps snapping at everyone becouse he doesn't have a handle on his emotions. He doesn't really process what he's gone through/going through and he's lashing out.

Harry's anger in OotP is the powder keg blowing. It's why he's more rash, more vocal, actually screaming at people in a way he hasn't before. It's why we see him lose control of himself in anger more than before:

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach — “Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO !” He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled “IMPEDIMENTA!” and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .

(OotP, Ch19)

Because he reached his limit of how much he can bottle up and he has no healthy means of letting any of it out. The D.A. helped a little as a distraction, it helped him feel less helpless, but he only just addressed the traumatic experience he had in the graveyard by talking about it when more just kept getting piled up onto him.

“Harry — no!” cried Lupin, but Harry had already ripped his arm from Lupin’s slackened grip. “SHE KILLED SIRIUS!” bellowed Harry. “SHE KILLED HIM — I’LL KILL HER!”….. [...] Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. [...] “Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. “You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain — to enjoy it — righteous anger won’t hurt me for long — I’ll show you how it is done, shall I? I’ll give you a lesson —”

(OotP, Ch36)

Running after Bellatrix was an impulsive decision. It's that same rage that overtook Harry to kick Crokshanks and try to kill Sirius. It's that seeing red sort of rage that encompasses everything. Grief overflowing Harry's emotional bottle and all he knows how to react with — is anger.

Harry, as I mentioned in the past, doesn't cry in front of others. He doesn't let himself. and the emotions gotta get out somehow. For Harry, that somehow is anger.

Half-Blood Prince:

After Sirius' death, Harry is much rawer. He basically starts this book beyond his threshold.

“If there’s anyone else here who’s not from Gryffindor,” roared Harry, who was starting to get seriously annoyed, “leave now, please!”

(HBP, Ch11)

So he gets annoyed more easily. He lashes out and shouts more often. He tries to physically attack more often too:

“Another ten points from Gryffindor,” said Snape. “I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room.” “No!” whispered Hermione, grabbing Harry’s arm as he opened his mouth furiously. “There’s no point, you’ll just end up in detention again, leave it!”

(HBP, Ch21)

Something he didn't do up until OotP and even then rarely. Harry is hot-headed not because he's easy to anger (again, his capacity for bottling up is impressive if he just seriously started lashing out in GoF), most of his grievances are reasonable, he's hot-headed becouse he's suffering and has no idea how to handle it.

“Just now!” said Harry, who was refraining from yelling with enormous difficulty. And then, suddenly, he could not stop himself. “AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!” Breathing hard as though he was fighting, Harry turned away from Dumbledore, who still had not moved a muscle, and paced up and down the study, rubbing his knuckles in his hand and exercising every last bit of restraint to prevent himself knocking things over. He wanted to rage and storm at Dumbledore, but he also wanted to go with him to try and destroy the Horcrux; he wanted to tell him that he was a foolish old man for trusting Snape, but he was terrified that Dumbledore would not take him along unless he mastered his anger. ... “Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Please listen to me.”

(HBP, Ch25)

Again, he snaps and shouts way more than before. And he knows he shouldn't, he knows it comes off bad and people take him less seriously when he's angry and lashing out, but he can't help it as much since he still hasn't started letting go. He's still at his threshold all throughout HBP.

It's why we see him react the way he does after Snape kills Dumbledore, too. He was so angry all year. Since Sirius died, he's been running on fumes. The keg already blew in fifth year, and it didn't help him at all while he's barely holding himself together (but no one else sees this). And then, he had more pushed onto him after he already had less than zero capacity to deal with things.

Deathly Hallows:

Much of the anger we see from Harry in this book is due to either the locket or the Horcrux in him, but I'm not counting that sort of anger. I want to focus on Harry's anger.

The grief that had possessed him since Dumbledore’s death felt different now. The accusations he had heard from Muriel at the wedding seemed to have nested in his brain like diseased things, infecting his memories of the wizard he had idolized. Could Dumbledore have let such things happen? Had he been like Dudley, content to watch neglect and abuse as long as it did not affect him? Could he have turned his back on a sister who was being imprisoned and hidden? Harry thought of Godric’s Hollow, of graves Dumbledore had never mentioned there; he thought of mysterious objects left without explanation in Dumbledore’s will, and resentment swelled in the darkness. Why hadn’t Dumbledore told him? Why hadn’t he explained? Had Dumbledore actually cared about Harry at all? Or had Harry been nothing more than a tool to be polished and honed, but not trusted, never confided in? Harry could not stand lying there with nothing but bitter thoughts for company. Desperate for something to do, for distraction, he slipped out of his sleeping bag, picked up his wand, and crept out of the room.

(DH, Ch10)

Harry's feelings of grief over Dumbledore are interwind with betrayal, helplessness, and feeling lost in general, and he feels all of it as anger. As I mentioned above, anger is Harry's go-to emotion when he's grieving, when he's in pain, when he feels too much and has no idea what to do with any of it — it lands him in anger.

It's a big part of why he reads as so angry with Dumbledore throughout the book. He has complicated feelings about the man, feelings he has no idea how to even start to unpack, so he feels angry.

In DH too, we see him more easily agitated than in the first 4 books. Harry is way past his limit in this book, but he tries so hard not to show it. To keep that lid on (nevermind that it exploded two years ago).

“I’d never have believed this,” Harry said. “The man who taught me to fight dementors—a coward.” Lupin drew his wand so fast that Harry had barely reached for his own; there was a loud bang and he felt himself flying backward as if punched; as he slammed into the kitchen wall and slid to the floor, he glimpsed the tail of Lupin’s cloak disappearing around the door. “Remus, Remus, come back!” Hermione cried, but Lupin did not respond. A moment later they heard the front door slam. “Harry!” wailed Hermione. “How could you?” “It was easy,” said Harry. He stood up; he could feel a lump swelling where his head had hit the wall. He was still so full of anger he was shaking. “Don’t look at me like that!” he snapped at Hermione. “Don’t you start on her!” snarked Ron. “No—no—we mustn’t fight!” said Hermione, launching herself between them.

(DH, Ch11)

He's shaking from anger. His voice is calm and quiet like his usual response for hiding his anger, but he can't fully hide it. His body gives him away becouse he feels so much of it.

Harry was 100% right to call Lupin out, but I think the ruler way he did it was because he's suffering. He's in emotional turmoil, and twisting his words like a knife, in a way he knew would hurt Lupin, made him feel a little better. It let him take some of that anger out. It is a form of lashing out.

Him snapping at Hermione after and being ready to fist fight Ron is an extension of this lashing out. Harry, when at his limit, lashes out in anger becouse it's all he really knows how.

(He needs a better grieving method. He needs a fucking hug and for someone to tell him he's allowed to cry. He needs a good cry. I think it's why he's calmer after going to Godric's Hallow. He cried a little, grieved his parents, truly, for the first time in his life, and it helped him let some of his pain out in a healthier way)

“It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. You time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.” And he spat in her face. Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand, and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(DH, Ch30)

Still, things just keep getting added onto his plate. How I see Harry's anger is why I don't think the above scene is out of character for him. His anger fueling the curse isn't just about Amycus spiting at McGonagall. It's about how they tortured Neville, Ginny, and Luna. About his year on the run. About Dobby's death. About him being forced into a position he feels he wants ready for and has no idea what to do. This is years of feeling angry and helpless coming to ahead.

Amycus didn't suffer just for that one crime of his. Spitting on McGonagall just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

To Summerise:

Harry isn't really good at managing his anger, or any other emotion really. He bottles it all up. His frustration, fear, grief, anger, helplessness, and pain all go together into Harry's little box of feelings so he can do whatever he needs to do and appear calm and quiet. It's why we see Harry fuming and boiling with rage inside his head while he's externally calm and cold and composed.

This lid he keeps on everything starts breaking as the emotions keep getting bottled up and he keeps not really processing them. So in GoF Harry is teetering on his very impressive threshold and then, after the graveyard, he breaks.

He suffered so much all at once and then was left alone to stew at the Dursleys for a whole month, suffering from nightmares and having no idea how to process any of what he's been through. Of course, he fucking breaks in OotP.

And when Harry breaks, all these emotions he kept down come out as anger. The reason he reacts so dramatically to smaller offenses post-OotP isn't that he's easy to anger, he really isn't. It's just that he has accumulated pain and grief from 14 years of trauma and abuse that are just now being let out in the form of Harry angrily lashing out.

So, I wouldn't say his anger management is amazing, but his problem isn't really the anger itself, it's emotional regulation in general. He needs to learn to deal with his emotions instead of bottling them up. If he does, he probably won't have any issues with anger management and would just sass his way through life.

[anabdaniels]

Local God

A Secret Santa gift to @papipascaaaal.

Huge thanks to @pedrostories for this marvelous event.

Paring: Marcus Acacius x Female reader

Summary: It was supposed to be the best work of your life analyzing the general's statue, you just didn't expected the statue to turn into the general himself.

Word counting: 7.6k

Rating: +18

Warnings: Major spoilers of Gladiator II, descriptions of damaged mental health, heavy angst.

A/N: This ain't 100% historically accurate for the sake of convenience, but nothing too serious. I created Acacius' full name based on this post by @elflutter.

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist || AO3 Link

You couldn’t contain yourself.

And actually, you weren’t the only one, after all, it wasn't every day that a statue from 210 AD showed up so well preserved, especially after the failed attempt of a damnatio memoriae. You spent your whole day in the museum room where the statue was placed, walking around it as you took notes about what you already knew and what remained an incognita, fascinated about all the information you had and wondering about the things you might never find the answer to.

You were about to roll your eyes and dismiss whoever was knocking at your door and interrupting your line of thought, but you promptly smiled sympathetically as you saw the kind old man who worked on the museum's cleaning team.

“We’re closing, Dr.” the senior man warned in his usual sympathetic tone, refusing to let go to address you by your academic title even after the many times you asked him to.

“Already?” you stated surprised and checked the hours on your computer, surprised by how you didn’t see it passing “I fear I’ll stay a little longer.”

“New boyfriend?” The man joked while opening the door slightly more to take a better look at the statue “I don’t know how you’re not afraid of being locked with these things.”

“Yeah, the big boy is keeping me occupied.” You joked back while patting the statue “You get used to them with the passing time.”

“I’m fine being away from them.” He laughed and shook his head “Good night, dear.”

“Good night.” You turned back to your notes when the man closed the door, recovering your line of thoughts and inevitably getting lost in them, wondering about so many things. You had spent most of your life studying ancient civilizations, especially Egyptians and Romans, and some events always got you thinking if the ancient rulers were truly that full of themselves or were simply dumb.

That statue in front of you was one of those cases.

You looked at the inscription on the marble plinth, a few bronze letters have fallen, but the dented gaps where they used to be had the shape of the letters, keeping the phrase complete and readable: ACACIVS VICTOR AFRICAE. Being face to face with such an opulent statue you wondered how crazy or stupid Geta and Caracalla were to think that the people would be amused with what and how they did to Acacius after they had converted him into Rome's greatest hero.

“You must have lived a hell of a life, hum, general?” you chuckled and shook your head, putting down your notebook on the nearest table and walking to the coffee machine on the opposite corner of the room, pulling your phone from your pocket while you waited for your espresso to be ready.

After the first shot of caffeine of the night, you hopped to get your brain to work faster, especially having drunk it while watching that sequence of short videos, remembering your psychologist explaining to you how they were probably the biggest cause of your troubles to fall asleep quickly. As you put your phone down and took back your papers, you were just about to write down what the next subjects you needed to check about the statue, until the noises of the street cats distracted you, making you involuntarily look towards the window.

And that simple action made any thought you could have shut down completely.

You blinked once, twice, rubbed your eyes, looked both sides, and still couldn’t gather a single logical thing in your mind, after all, wasn’t every day that an almost 6ft tall statue simply disappeared from its plinth. By the morning when it was brought to the Capitoline Museum and you got in charge of studying it, you thought that could only be a dream while seeing that it seemed to have evaporated, you prayed to all and any gods for it to be a dream, but your hope to be living a nightmare was crashed at the very second you heard a noise among the shelves near the door accompanied by a huge shadow; definitely wasn’t a mouse trying to gnaw old papers.

“Who’s there? This ain’t funny.” You felt like a stupid character from a low-budget horror movie while taking a few steps closer to the origin of the noise, but it wasn’t even a conscious move. You froze completely as the figure came out of the dark, not knowing if you wanted to run away or get closer.

“I apologize, ma’am. I mean you no harm.” The man spoke calmly, his deep voice echoing in the room.

“How did you… There’s no… You were just…” you still were incapable of making any coherent statement while facing a Roman general alive and right in front of you.

“I do not know how I am here either, ma’am.” Acacius explained himself while raising his hands at the level of his shoulders, wanting to guarantee you didn’t see him as a threat.

“This can’t be fucking real. You were a pile of bronze just two minutes ago.” You shook your head, rubbing your face one last time to make sure you were awake. “How could you just pop in here, Acacius?” The man seemed a bit surprised by your crude lingo, but what caught his attention wasn’t that.

“You know me?” he asked in a genuine mix of surprise and doubt.

“Of course, any dumbass that heard about ancient Rome knows the great General Marcus Acacius Justus Sacratus.” You said as if it was obvious, still shocked by the absurd situation.

“Ancient Rome?” he asked cluelessly, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean, you lived on 210 AD and we are now on 2024 AD.” At that point you were sounding more casual, still not believing such circumstances, but holding yourself to the idea that you simply didn’t remember falling asleep and were having the craziest dream. Acacius digested the information with a frown, seeming to simply accept your statement.

“And what did you call me?”

“Acacius Justus Sacratus. They gave you the Sacratus agnomen after the chaos people made in Rome when the emperors tried to erase you.” You were quite surprised as you saw the shadow of a smile forming on his lips “Whatever, this is all kinda unbelievable. You weren’t supposed to be here. Oh my god, how I’m gonna explain to the director that a whole ass statue simply disappeared under my watch? I’m so fucked up, it would be our biggest exposition this year. I’m gonna be fired.” You had a small outburst of despair when the whole scene finally got solid in your imagination, after all, saying that one of the most searched historical objects had simply converted into its human form wouldn’t convince anyone.

“I deeply apologize for any inconvenience I might be causing you; I will leave immediately if it could help you.” Acacius’ sincere tone hit straight on your nerves, making you unsure if you were mad or sentimental about it.

“Leave where? The Rome you knew has fallen long ago and everything has changed. The empire you used to know and serve is now no more than a bunch of ruins spread across the whole Italy. Let aside the fact that you wouldn’t adapt to this new world by yourself and no one would believe your story. In no time you’d turn into an indigent or end up locked in a mental hospital because everyone would be convinced that you’re schizophrenic or something similar. And don’t get me started with your festive dress.” You said referring to his armor with the golden head of Medusa on the chest and the pompous red cape around his shoulders. “I can’t let you go, Acacius.” You sighed frustrated, all of that becoming too much. Acacius was lowkey confused about a few things you said, but also your temper was starting to annoy him.

“Well, since you know everything, tell me the way back home.” He rolled his eyes halfway, bothered about how you were speaking as if he wasn’t in a difficult situation either or had chosen to be there.

“Don’t start with that, I’ve dedicated a great part of my life to studying yours. I know your sassy temper.” You rolled your eyes, for a second lowkey forgetting that his personality was your smaller problem. Acacius had an answer ready, but your declaration got him unprepared.

“You studied my life?” he questioned, raising one eyebrow.

“Of course I did. You turned into the military version of Julius Caesar in terms of popularity, one of the most mentioned names when the subject is ancient Rome.” You sighed heavily, looking away from him “And I never got over what they did to you.” Acacius wondered for a moment what you were referring to, but he imagined you meant the whole situation in the coliseum.

“I remember all that.” He started in a contemplative tone “I remember being there, the exhaustion, the despair of my dear Lucilla, the pain of the first arrows, then I woke up somewhere else and remained there until today.” He sighed and shook his head “Do you have any idea of what happened?”

“No. Despite all the theories about time traveling and supernatural events, there’s nothing concrete about it that could explain you coming back to life.” You passed one hand over your hair, taking a deep breath. “Well, since I’m already screwed up with all this, can you answer a few things I always wanted to know?”

“Go ahead, it is not as if I have anything else to do.” Acacius agreed while taking a couple of steps to approach you by your desk, looking curious at your notes written on those peculiarly connected letters.

“Are the theories that you were trained by Maximus himself true?” you looked at him expectantly, feeling like your life would finally make sense with that answer.

“Yes, I had the honor of having him as a mentor.” He confirmed while curiously nudging the mouse of your computer, looking abruptly back at you when you slapped the wooden surface.

“I fucking knew it.” You sounded like an excited child “The behavioral pattern in matters of war is so obvious and explains your ties with the royal family. I know I wasn’t crazy!” you got slightly self-conscious as you realized Acacius’ confusedly staring at you, surprised that such a simple thing seemed to be such a big deal to you. “Now you probably think I’m crazy.”

“Not much shocks me after Geta and Caracalla. You look very normal to me.” He affirmed casually, taking a genuine laugh at you with how he seemed so casual about everything.

“Speaking about our crazy boys, the urban legend that you laughed when they threatened you with a damnatio memoriae it’s true either?” Once again you saw yourself breathing slowly to not miss a thing of the answer.

“Sincerely, I am not proud of it, but yes.” He shrugged with a discreet grin “But how do you know such a thing?”

“Well, we believe that it started as a rumor among the Pretorians that spread like fire on the straw due to people’s compassion for your history.” You looked away as your phone screen turned on with some random notification, but what got your attention was Acacius’ suspicious gaze toward the object. “Don’t be amazed so quickly, there’s a lot of weirdest technologies nowadays.”

“Everything seems quite familiar to me.” He said while looking around the room.

“We’re in the middle of the Capitoline Museum, what did you expect?”

“Capitoline?” he ignored your sarcastic remark, more interested in the familiar name.

“Come with me.” Before he could agree, you already had grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to the hallway.

“But this is...”

“Yes, the imperial palace.” You finished his statement as the two of you walked through the hallway full of statues.

“But you said more than a millennium has passed since my time. This place did not change at all.” You sighed and rolled your eyes, stopping a few steps away from the staircase, pissed at yourself for assuming Acacius would magically guess what happened in the last 1814 years.

“This is a museum now; the idea is precisely to keep all of this the most intact possible. Look at that.” You pointed to The Dying Gaul behind Acacius “This is from around 60-40 BC, approximately 150 years older than you and still perfectly preserved, just like everything else here. That’s why your statue was brought here, to be studied, cataloged, and exposed to the public, while we made sure it was kept safe and intact.” Acacius attentively listened to your explanation, actually surprised that those things were from his time or even before since they looked very much like they used to in their time.

“Now it makes sense to me.” He took another look around the hallway and then back to you “What do you want to show me?”

“C’mon, general.” You passed your arm on his while going downstairs, laughing at his expression mixed with confusion and surprise. You got out of the building, getting to the courtyard and leading to the front door, you hesitated for a second before opening it. “Please don’t lose your mind.” You sighed quietly when he nodded and opened the door in front of you.

Acacius took a first hesitant step, at first not seeing anything so different, but then he paid more attention; the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius showing the signs of time with the marks on the bronze, if only he knew that wasn’t even the original one, the pavement also didn’t pass unnoticed by him, definitely that wasn’t there the last time he saw the place. Afraid with which other changes he could find, but unable to hold back himself, he walked closer to the edge of the square, taking a full view of the city, unable to identify what he was feeling while seeing a completely new city, despite still being able to see the Rome he used to know on those ruins. Acacius leaned against the plinth of one of the two enormous statues at the entrance of the Capitoline square, only then seeming to completely understand how much has happened in the world since his death.

“Are you alright?” you asked, approaching him, noticing his distress.

“Yes.” He answered while looking again at the city for a moment, then back at you “I just did not expect all this.”

“You’ll get used to it.” You said casually, not wanting to make the situation worse. “C’mon, we can’t stay here for too long, it’s almost 6 am, soon the team will be here to prepare the guided tour.” Acacius just followed you while still looking around, less shocked, but still not totally believing in what he was seeing.

“What is this?” he questioned as you opened that unknown metallic device.

“It's nowadays carriages.” You answered with one arm lying on the car door “Get in, general. I’ll take you home.”

“You are quite an odd lady.” He said unable to suppress a chuckle.

“I’m not the one wearing a dress and a crown of golden laurels.” You rolled your eyes with a quiet laugh as he got into the car the best someone from his time could. You closed the door and walked around, getting into the vehicle and looking at Acacius, smiling at his childish curiosity at the screen showing the GPS.

“Is this a map?” he asked while recognizing the image.

“Yes, and this little dot there moves simultaneously as we move.” You mentioned starting the car and moving on the street.

“Fascinating!” Acacius’ enthusiasm was obvious “This would have been so useful to navigations.”

“You would love to be a general nowadays.” You kept looking at the street in front of you but could see Acacius’ head turning to every side it could.

Your way back home at these hours used to be boring, but not when you had your favorite historical figure asking you tons of questions: “What happened to the coliseum walls? What are those red and green lights? How does the map dot know where we are going? How did those strange street torches extinguish themselves?” Most times you’d be annoyed with so many questions, but the way he sounded so fascinated and curious kind of warmed your heart, making your brain occasionally click; you’d never give any of your male coworkers a ride to the next street corner, yet you felt completely at ease near to an ancient roman general you only knew through the tons of history books you read over your life, truly feeling like some kind of good aura came from him.

And the same was true for him. Despite the little harsh moments you had earlier, he trusted completely his judgment about people, and you definitely were on the trustworthy side for him, after all, he understood you would be in trouble with whoever was your superior, yet you refused to let him at his luck.

Finally, at your house, Acacius’ fascinations with the modern world didn’t cease, some of them quite comprehensible, like his shock when your Alexa turned on all the lights on the house, and some others funnier like his interest in your thermal cup and how it was able to preserve temperature.

“Slow down, I still do not understand how people get inside this thing.” Acacius said in complete confusion while pointing to the TV in your bedroom.

“They don’t.” you laughed and sat next to him at the edge of your bed “What we see is that thing called video that I told you about.”

“Sincerely still confusing, but I think I understand.” He admitted while exploratory pressing the buttons on the remote, shocked with how many things existed inside that illuminated box “I know this.”  You turned to look at the same spot he was, realizing he was talking about some random movie with the Roman legions on the cover.

“Oh yeah, there’s quite a bunch of movies about y’all and your fancy battle clothes.” You mentioned while looking into the grocery store bag you just found next to your bed, not remembering when that got lost there.

“But how do they have video from that time?” you couldn’t hold a genuine laugh at his adorable confusion.

“It’s not from your time, Acacius. It’s all acting as they did in Roman theaters, but now instead of only doing it in real-time, they record it so we can watch it multiple times, at any time we want.”

“How many amazing things exist in this time?” he questioned with an amused frown.

“A lot to be fair.” You found a bag of chips among your lost groceries “Lemme show you modern food.” You said as you opened the package and held it to him, with no second thoughts Acacius took a potato from the bag, savoring it as if it was a fine delicacy.

“This is what you eat every day?” He was already grabbing another chip from the package.

“Not ideally, but sometimes it happens.” You chuckled and grabbed the remote “Let’s watch this. Nothing like a real Roman general to tell me how accurate it is.” You settled better and played the movie.

You were surely amazed at his observations about the movie, sometimes perplexed with something absurdly inaccurate or highly excited with the facts that matched the reality while gladly savoring the potato chips. The most entertained you were, it was almost 8 am on Saturday and you’ve been awake since 6 am on Friday, so you didn’t even realize you started to melt on the bed, until you ended up fully asleep in an awkward position. When he stopped to listen to your opinions about his comments, Acacius looked at you, smiling discreetly as he saw you knocked out with one arm hanging out of the bed. Careful to not wake you, Acacius placed your asleep body the rest more comfortably and laid down on the other side of the bed, turning his gaze at you after looking around the whole room, still processing how amazing those modern things were and how you could be such a pleasing company despite your occasional rude manners.

"Acacius, I'm back." You said by the front door while taking off your coat. Not much later he showed up with a dishcloth in hand, taking a smile from you. "Hope you didn't make any mess in my kitchen." You joked despite knowing he hadn't.

"Can you trust me at least a bit?" He raised both eyebrows "I was just dealing with that plate cleaner thing." He said referring to your dishwasher, making you chuckle and shake your head. A week has passed and you were shocked by how good of a roommate Acacius was. He quickly understood how things worked nowadays to keep a house in order, accepting easily that no one would be around organizing the place and bringing him food as it used to be in his time, and he seemed to be quite fine with getting some tasks done, feeling useful and entertained while you were at work.

"I need to teach you how to use the vacuum cleaner." You chuckled and fell on the couch, pressing your temples and closing your eyes.

"Is everything alright?" Acacius moved to sit by your side, noticing your tension.

"They want to open the exposition next week." You said with a heavy breath "I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Oh, my dear, I feel so sorry for causing you all this situation." He reached to touch your hand, looking at you with a guilty face.

"It's not your fault." You looked at him and smiled "And at the end, if I have to get stuck with any historical figure, I'm happy it's you." you hesitated for a moment, but surrendered to your desperate need for some comfort, tucking yourself between his arms and resting your head near the medusa figure of his armor he refused to take off. "Damn, you're probably the best man I ever met." It all got Acacius unprepared. You had exchanged some casual physical contact, especially because the two of you ended up falling asleep together every night while you showed him some new modern thing or asked him about how accurate the information you knew about his time was, he even occasionally woke up with your head resting on his arms a couple times, but nothing like that.

“I am really sorry to have met you in such complicated circumstances.” He started while wrapping his arms around you “But I have to agree with you about it, I wouldn’t choose another awkward sorceress to get stuck with.” He mentioned that in that casual sassy manner, making you look at him with a frown despite the silly smile on your face.

“I’m not a sorceress, it’s just technology. The awkward part, you might be right.” You shook your head while your fingers brushed against the medusa on his chest.

“It fits your beauty.” He said it with no flourishes, making your brain freeze for a moment, that was the last thing you expected to hear. Aware that your current situation couldn’t be worse, you stopped fighting against your rational thoughts and leaned forward, pressing your lips on his, not knowing what to expect from it, but being gladly surprised by the warm big hand rubbing your back as Acacius instinctively pulled you closer to him.

And everything became a blur. Nothing else mattered. For a moment you forgot that your job was at risk, that you had no idea why Acacius was there and for how long he’d stay, that was completely insane to fall in love with a man who could disappear in the blink of an eye just like he showed up, but you couldn’t do anything about it. Even before knowing him in person your affection towards him was a thing, since you never accepted how fate could’ve been so cruel to a good man, and after spending a whole week with him, feeling more at home and happy than ever, that feeling could only grow. To your luck, it wasn’t a one-sided thing. Acacius’ mind was a complete chaos on the first day, cursing the gods for having done such a thing with him, making him live once more with the vivid memory of his tragedy, but after spending some time with you, he started to consider it a gift from the gods; the chance of live again while having the company of such a peculiar figure like you, while having the unique experience of see by himself how the world evolved after Rome.

“I’m sorry.” Your whisper cut the line of thought of both of you as you leaned lightly backward “I shouldn’t have…” you were silenced by the thumb softly pressing your lips.

“Do not worry. I have finally known how the most spectacular thing from this time feels, I could not be more blessed by the gods.” You were incapable of thinking about an answer and he didn’t give you the time to do such a thing, pressing another kiss on your lips.

“Please, Mr. Bianchi, I promise you this is the last extra time I ask you.” You begged with all your might, unable to decipher your boss’ expression.

“Dear, I know your amazing work and for me, you could have a whole year with that statue, but it doesn’t depend solely on my wish as you know very well.” The old man spoke while aligning the pile of papers on his desk.

“Another week is all I ask.” You tried your chances, twisting your keys between your fingers.

“Impossible. The best I can do for you is a couple of days.”

“I understand.” You nodded, trying to keep yourself together, and got up, leaving the room after a weak goodbye.

You crossed the building of the museum faster than you ever had, glad that the visits were already closed, so you didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing the tears of despair rolling down your face. As you got out at the Capitoline Square, you walked around a couple of times in complete confusion. What would you do when they searched for the statue and only found the empty plinth? How would you convince anyone that your new roommate and lover was the lost statue? You certainly would go to jail accused of robbing the historical piece. Your academic career would be dead and buried and Acacius would be completely alone. Damn, you couldn’t bear the idea of him not knowing why you didn’t come back home or worse, thinking you had abandoned him voluntarily. The only way your life could not end in a disaster was if Acacius became a statue again, but that you could never wish for. Not only because your feelings towards him were almost unhealthily growing with each passing day or because you couldn’t imagine sleeping without his warmth again, but also because he seemed to be so happy and living such a light life, the life he deserved of all the misfortune he experienced before.

Standing in the middle of the empty Capitoline square, you stared at the replica of the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, feeling your rage on the verge of getting out of control.

“Your stupid bastard. Couldn’t you have kept your damn dream of Rome to yourself? Couldn’t you have changed the fucking Roman rules and let your damn daughter assume the empire so she would’ve never involved Acacius in all of this? Your dumb old man.” You angrily shouted at the bronze figure of Marcus Aurelius as if he could hear you and as if Geta and Caracalla’s cruelty towards Acacius was his fault either.

Not wanting to bear your thoughts any longer, you ran to your car and drove like crazy back home, aware that you would probably receive some notes from the transit department, and not caring about anything else but hiding yourself in Acacius’ arms and pretending nothing of that was true and that you were just a simple roman peasant that got lucky enough to catch the attention of the empire’s greatest general.

“Acacius?” you called passing by the front door, your heartbeat getting wilder when he didn’t show up like every day until then “Acacius?” you called louder while starting to look around the house. You heard some noises from your backyard and headed there, sighing relieved as you saw your general there, safe and sound. Then your attention moved to the whole scene and you finally understood Acacius’ unending questions about modern table setting and the specific things he asked from the grocery after going into your grandma’s recipe book. “What is all of this?” you asked with a wide smile, observing the picnic towel in the middle of your patio filled with most of the recipes of your grandma that you told Acacius were your favorites.

“You have been so good to me and you’re one of the best hosts I ever met. I thought it would be the minimum to try to reciprocate it.” He explained while stopping in front of you, placing his golden laurels on your head with a playful smile then held out one hand to you. You were anesthetized while holding his hand, your mind going blank of all worries and concerns. How could he become better at any passing second? You would never know.

Your heart felt light as a feather on the wind while you two shared that meal under the starry sky and your body was almost in a trance, making you unable to do better than nod with a silly smile at every word that fell from Acacius’ lips, fully convinced that if the afterlife paradise existed, it must be like that: sit on the grass and be fed on the mouth by a gold-hearted man while using his laurels crown.

“You look distracted.” Acacius observed while fiddling with a lock of your hair.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that all of this seems better than any good dream I ever had.” You moved to sit sideways on his lap; after two complete weeks and five days of living together, that already had become a casual move between the two of you.

“I am glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled warmly, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your forehead “And be warned that I intend to do it again.”

“You won’t hear a single complaint from me, general.” You chuckled and passed your hand through his graying hair, laying forward to rest your face against the curve of his neck.

“I am not sure if your personality would allow you such a thing, but I will have faith in you.” Acacius pressed a soft kiss on your temple and remained like that, enjoying the warm feel of you all nestled on his lap, not knowing when was the last time he felt so at peace, not even the annoying cold on his arm being able to disturb him at that moment.

 Having spent most of his life in the Roman wars, the feeling of being at home wasn’t a familiar sensation to him, but Acacius knew very well that being tangled at you in the middle of your patio with your breath tickling his neck was certainly his new definition of home, even in that strange period with its mechanisms that looked very much like some kind of wizard work and the memories of his first life haunting him, he still was unbothered by any of it.

“Are you tired?” he asked softly as your eyelids fell closed, caressing your face.

“No, I’m just too comfortable here.” You shifted slightly to look at him, smiling when he aligned the laurels on your head.

“Very well then, this was the goal.” He playfully pinched your cheek, making you chuckle and shrug.

“Damn, your hand is freezing.” You straightened yourself on his lap, rubbing his biceps to confirm that he was cold. “You’ll need a long-sleeved tunic to survive the winter.” You laughed and gave him a soft peck on the lips before leaning a bit backward, frowning as you felt a weird nudge on your back. You turned to look at what it was and immediately wished you had never done it, feeling the tears promptly forming in your eyes as you tried to deny the horrible truth, refusing to believe that Acacius’ whole right forearm was turning back into bronze. His gaze followed yours and he could only sigh exasperated when he saw it; despite imagining that the gods may not let him stay forever, he hoped it’d happen later. “No!” you shook your head in complete denial “This can’t be true.” You hugged him tight, hoping that was just a nightmare, but at the same time, you could feel his warmth fading away and his skin becoming as cold as the metal of his armor.

“Darling,” he cupped your face with his left hand, unable to move the other one “we both knew this might happen. Do not cry, everything will be alright, you will not have any trouble explaining my disappearance now.” It broke your heart how calmly he told you that, reminding you that he was the same man who surrendered in the coliseum to spare his stepson’s life, of course, he would only be happy and relieved that you would have a statue to present to your superior.

“It isn’t worth anything to me if I have to come back to my empty house every day. How am I supposed to go back to my old life now, Acacius? Who’ll make me explain to them that the singers aren’t trapped inside the radio?” you were already sobbing, holding onto his red cape for dear life.

“Ease yourself, dear. You are a very clever lady; I am sure you will be alright without me.” Acacius smiled tenderly, his eyes watery.

“I’ll not. This is not fair. I’ve dreamt my whole life about meeting you, and now that I did, you’ll leave me.” You clung to him like a scared child, feeling heartbroken with the idea of him coming back to be just a pile of bronze.

“Little dove, we both know this is not my place, no matter how much I loved every second spent with you. Furthermore, you’ll be close to me every day at the museum. It will be okay.” His voice was calm despite the crying tone. You still were in complete denial, but the rest of his arm also turning back into bronze was harshly bringing you back to reality.

“We should take you back to the museum, then.” That was the last thing you wanted to do, but there was no other choice.

The ride to the museum was dead silent, just like many authors said it happened at the coliseum the day Geta ordered Acacius’ assassination, and then you understood why the sepulchral silence was always mentioned in every work about the event, it was indeed a horrible thing to experience.

The way into the Capitoline Museum wasn’t the easiest, Acacius’ mobility was getting reduced and you could only curse Michelangelo for having put those huge ass stairs when he designed the place in the 16th century. Finally, at the Gallery floor of the Palazzo Nuovo, you entered the room you were designated to work in when Acacius’ statue arrived, feeling even more heartbroken when an invisible force seemed to put him back on top of the marble plinth and position his body exactly as it was the first time you saw it, the process of turn back to bronze seemed to be faster.

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?” you asked, sitting by the floor, desolated resting against the cold marble.

“Maybe not in this life, but I am sure we will meet again someday.” Acacius answered in a weak voice, just the upper part of his torso still in its human form.

“This is too much time.” You whined completely miserable, feeling like you didn’t have any more tears left.

“I am sure my clever lady will find a way to spend this time.” That warm affectionate smile was the last thing you saw before the rest of him turned back into bronze and his face recovered that serious imposing expression that made you so happy when the statue was found, and now would forever haunt your nightmares.

You grabbed the laurels crown that still was in your head holding it tight against your chest, wanting to protect the only tangible memory of him you had, but of course, fate wouldn’t be so generous, taking your last hope away when the golden crown unmade itself, just to show up again at the head of the statue that just a half hour ago was your companion, then you couldn’t hold it back anymore, screaming and crying while holding into the cold metal legs of the sculpture, feeling your stomach twist and your heart ache, sobbing until your whole head was hurting and you had no more forces to stand on your feet.

You had no idea of how you made your way back home that night when you woke up on your couch, you didn’t dare to lay on your bed, fearing that Acacius’ scent might no be gone from your bedsheets and already certain you would never have the courage of wash them. You spend the whole day walking around the house like a zombie, also not daring to look at your backyard, aware that you didn’t have the strength to revive that final happy memory with him. You ignored the 20 lost calls of your boss, only calling him back by the end of the day to ask for a few days off, claiming that you were sick and your voice hoarse from your uninterrupted cry made the excuse very convincing.

A couple of days later you heard that the opening exhibition of Acacius’ statue was a success, and that would be all your contact with it. You wouldn’t dream of showing up there, you didn’t even know if you’d be able to ever enter the museum again, especially when you found out that after the first week, it would probably go to the same room as The Dying Gaul, so every day when you got up the staircase you would face it, wanting you or not.

That whole next week passed like a confused mess in your memory, you never knew when was the last time you had slept, eaten, or taken a shower. All you knew was your computer screen and the pile of papers and snack packages forming around it, wasn’t an unusual scenario, since a lot of your work required research, however, the difference this time was the content. You always valued facts with reliable bibliographical sources, yet there you were, reading articles written by people that in any other scenario, you would completely despise the work and refuse to read, but in desperate times, desperate measures are called for. You started with serious stuff such as Einstein's theory of gravity, but it didn’t lead you to any positive answer about time traveling or anything that could bring Acacius back, so you started to dive into dubious corners of the internet and searched all the roman mythology book you had to see if there was any legend that could give you any clue of what to do, but of course all that lead to nothing, you would even had searched about it on the dark web if that tutorial you followed had worked.

After days of non-stop research and at the edge of burnout, your logical thought finally seemed to be back, making you come to your senses for a second and realize that all that was bullshit. What happened to you and Acacius was probably an isolated situation that never could be replicated. Overthinking everything and having a manic episode, you saw yourself finally having the strength to deep clean the nasty place your house had become while talking to yourself about how ridiculous that was.

The only thing that you didn’t foresee was that brand new wave of sadness when you saw yourself standing in the middle of your perfectly clean and silent house, hoping that at any moment you would see Acacius showing up with a random electronic device asking you how it worked.

But he wouldn’t do it, never again.

The unique nature of your relationship that a few hours earlier served as a consolation, turned into your new nightmare. It had been an exceptional occasion, supposing that the gods existed, they probably just had accidentally messed up with some timeline and put you and Acacius together. Of course, it had to be an accident, there was no way your relationship would be manageable, at least not in 2024, if you were the one mistakenly showing up in ancient Rome, maybe it could work, but it wasn’t like that.

You entered another spiral of insanity, repeating to yourself that there was no chance of it ever happening again while you sobbed curled up on the side of the bed Acacius used to sleep, confirming that his scent indeed was still there. As you planned originally, you didn’t wash the bedsheets or the dishcloth he last touched, just like the dress you were wearing the night he turned into bronze again, preserving every crumb of his smell you could, and also going into some more serious business, taking a tone of pregnancy tests as you realized your period was late and praying to every force above for a positive result, hoping to have a part of Acacius with you, and feeling like the world was ending when after all the negatives, your period showed up.

Despite feeling like your life was over, after two weeks, you had to go back to the museum, looking away or closing your eyes every damn time you had to pass in front of the Sala del Gladiatore where now Acacius’ statue was, facing the Dying Gaul sculpture and the door, making it harder to ignore, especially if added the fact that the Gaul was your favorite statue of the museum, certainly a cruel joke of the destiny.

On that random ordinary afternoon, you were unworriedly turning off the hallway lights, after so much time working there, you managed to walk among the statues in the dim light without being terrified. You were ready to go downstairs, but saw that someone did you the favor of forgetting to turn off the light in that room you avoided for so long, for a moment you considered just letting it be, but you knew that was a risky move that could even start a fire, so you built the courage to walk in, planning to quickly turn off the light and leave, but you failed even before trying, passing through the switch near the door with no second thoughts.

You smiled as you stopped in front of the Dying Gaul, only then realizing you had missed him too; you used to pass there almost every day to look at him, but since they brought the general’s statue to the room two months before, you never entered there again. For a moment you wondered if it was just your confused mind or if the Gaul and Acacius looked a lot like each other.

After building the courage, you turned around to face Acacius, feeling that familiar sting in your heart. Indulging your search for some comfort, you sit by the floor, resting your back against the wall, just staying there for a moment.

“I have to admit you were right. I found a way to spend time. I adopted a dog, you know, a Pitbull mix, the cutest little guy. I named him Justino if you catch my drift.” You chuckled and looked at the other statues in the room. “Y’all stop judging me, I had to share with someone.” You looked up at Acacius, smiling widely as you briefly recalled the night when he became human. “I miss you, general, and sometimes I rewatch that horrible movie about the Roman army you found amazing. I hope you know I haven’t stopped thinking about you, I just needed time to put myself together. I’ll probably never stop thinking about our time together, and probably will show up here every day from now on.” You sighed and got up, looking at him with a sad smile “I cursed your gods a lot, but now I can only thank them for having messed up with whatever cable that controls the timelines of the world.” You reached one arm up, managing to touch one of his hands, relaxing with the familiar form, even with the warmth absent. “You’ll always hold a place in my heart.” You closed your eyes and allowed your head to fall forward, resting your forehead against the bronze surface. “Ubi tu gaius, ego gaia.” You mumbled quietly, taking a moment there before building the courage to walk away, turning off the light, and getting downstairs, wondering if would be a good idea to try to convince Mr. Bianchi to allow pets at the museum, at least for one day, so you could take Justino to meet Acacius and finally see the man you told him so much about and named him after.

[obrowne21]

ʙᴀʙʏ ɪ’ᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ

Chapter 2 - “Hates the Perfect Word”

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“Don’t stay out here too late, Baby.”

Sergeant Ken Lemmons was only partly joking with Baby when he said this to her. However over the three weeks of getting to know the stubborn blonde, he realized it wasn’t so far fetched for her to lose track of time.

And that would be proven correct as Baby was still out on the Airstrip, working away. She found it difficult to leave seeing as the view was so beautiful. The sunset painted the sky a warm orange and pink tone. A calm breeze briefly passed her, ruffling the tall grass, the trees, and even the bottom of her dress as it did so.

Sighing, she found a comfortable spot on a nearby crate. Busying herself by screwing two engine pieces together with a basic rod. The action was done smoothly like muscle memory.

A loud sound of an engine and the screech of tires had broken her peaceful state. Internally rolling her eyes, Baby prepared herself.

That could mean only one thing.

The jeep made a rough stop in front of her causing her to look up at the person responsible for the interruption.

Major John ‘Bucky’ Egan.

Even the thought of his name sparked annoyance in Delilah. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him that was so infuriating.

Maybe it was the way he walked around base like he was the king of the world. He had everybody under his spell, especially her brother Gale. She couldn’t understand how the two had ever became friends.

Or maybe it was how he would sometimes get caught looking at her but would never say anything.

It was like a game of tug of war. Always giving her signs of interest but then taking it back as if he physically and mentally couldn’t bring himself to go there with her. Like something was stopping him, more like someone.

She had a pretty good idea of who.

“A little birdy told me you were out here.” Leaning back in his seat, Bucky faced the woman.

Delilah, uninterested, gave him a nod before focusing back onto her work. “Never really liked birds.”

“Sad to hear that. They’re real fascinating creatures. I’m more of a unicorn guy myself-”

“I bet you are.”

After a beat of silence, Delilah glanced up to see him staring at her once again. It could’ve been because she had just rudely interrupted him but by the way the corner of his mouth twitched into his signature smirk made her think differently.

His eyes held nothing but admiration as he kept his gaze on her. The way she smoothly worked away like it was her second nature was wildly attractive. Not to mention the quick wits that shamelessly left her pretty mouth, which instead of feeling insulted he would always feel more amazed by her.

“Gale send you out here?”

“No.”

“So tell me…Major Bucky,” The name rolled off her tongue as a taunt. Placing the tool and engine piece down beside her, she leaned back onto her hands. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being in your presence?”

Bucky watched as she seductively crossed her legs and tilted her head awaiting for an answer. The reminder that she was his best friends little sister kept blaring in the back of his mind. But it was so damn hard to listen to.

“Maybe I just want to be in yours.” Copying her action, Bucky tilted his head. “You ever think of that?”

”It’s hard to when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

He knew exactly what she referring to. Part of it was intentional but at the same time he really never knew how to approach her. Which was odd for him.

John Egan never struggled in talking to women. However he would always overthink with Delilah. She made him nervous, in a good way.

“Can’t say I know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” Bucky let out a nervous scoff knowing he had been called out.

The use of the nickname made Baby raise her eyebrows in surprise. “That’s a new one.”

“You like it?”

“I’m not sure yet.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been called many things, Major Bucky, but sweet has never been one of them.”

“What?” He dropped his jaw dramatically, pretended to be shocked. “You’re the sweetest.”

Bucky watched as she let out an adorable laugh as she threw her head back. A small wave of pride washed over him at the fact that he got her to smile, let alone talk to him for more than five seconds.

“If I’m sweet then you’re a good singer.” She playfully jutted.

“Oh,” He placed a hand on his heart. “You wound me, Baby. I’d have you know I’m an excellent singer.”

“A little birdy told me differently.”

Looking away Bucky chewed away on the piece of gum in his mouth. Damn, she was good.

“If this birdy happens to be tall, boring, and has a head full of blonde hair on his head than you should ignore him and come see for yourself.”

Delilah laughed not taking him seriously. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious.” He said. Eyes connecting with her honey brown ones. “There’s a dance, day after tomorrow. Come and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Might skip out on this one.” She declined.

Nodding Bucky looked down. An idea popped into his head that might change her mind. “Huh, guess you Clevens are more alike than you want to admit.”

If there was anything he learned from witnessing the Cleven sibling duo was that they both were complete opposites. Buck was more serious, rule follower, and never really liked to do anything risky.

And although he didn’t talk to Delilah much, he would notice how she liked to do things in an untraditional way. Her presence here as one of the first female mechanics proves that. She also loved to make fun out of most situations. A small joke was always at the tip of her tongue and she could never keep it there.

He’d like to bet she loved to dance too.

Picking up the tool beside her she pointed it at Bucky with an annoyed glare. “Take that back right now.”

Bingo.

“Makes sense.” He shrugged his shoulders innocently. “Guess the ‘never have a good time’ genes got passed down to both of ya.”

“I can have a good time.” She rebutted.

Bucky nodded, not really convinced at all. “Okay.”

A moment of silence passed as Bucky continued to poke fun at Delilah as she thought over his words.

Letting go of her cheek, the one she was anxiously biting, Delilah sighed. “What times the stupid dance?”

A smile of victory took plastered across the Major's face as he mentally celebrated. “I’ll be there at 8:00, that’s when the real party starts.”

“Can’t wait.” She gave him a fake smile.

Taking a look around, they both knew that it was about to get dark soon and should head back.

Reaching over the passenger seat of the Jeep, Bucky propped open the door with one arm. “Hop in, sweetheart. I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I have a bike, you know?”

“That old thing?” Simultaneously the two turned to look at the bike leaning on the side of the crate she was sitting on.

“Yeah,” Delilah smiled proudly. It was one of the things she built on her own when she first got here. “Isn’t he pretty?”

“He?”

“Well you men always refer to your cars and planes as woman, so I’d thought I’d return the favor.”

As the blonde continued to admire her piece of work, Bucky’s gaze shifted to her. Taking in her smooth tan skin and pretty freckles that he’d like to individually kiss. And finally her full lips that were just calling his name.

He watched as she grabbed the handles of the bike and easily kicked her leg over to get on it. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Baby?”

“I’d rather ride a thousand miles on this old thang than one in there with you.”

He was left speechless as she petaled away without a second thought. The fact that her and a Buck were siblings was still a shock to him.

No matter how different the two were they both had something in common. The Clevens had captured John Egans heart. With a Buck it was respect and friendship. And with Delilah.

Oh, Delilah. He hadn’t even got to know her fully yet and she already had him hooked.

Snapping out of his trance he started the engine before catching up and riding along beside her. Now he was back to looking between the road and her pretty side profile.

“Still got you to go to the dance with me.” He gloated.

Once again, John Egan had managed to make her smile. Shaking her head she tried to petal faster but he would just match her speed. “I hate you!”

“Hates a strong word.”

“Hates the perfect word.”

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A/N : As y’all can tell I love a good slow burn. Hope y’all liked it! Let me know your thoughts on it please, I love to hear feedback.

ALSO DAYUM YALL REALLY CAME THREW WITH THE LIKES ON MY POSTS

Tag list(I can’t believe I have those now🤭):

@valenftcrush

@justheretoreadthhx

[qin-qin16]

Bittersweet

During a cuddle session, the liquid that flows from Killer’s eye sockets ends up staining Color’s bones, and, like any mentally stable person, he wonders: what would his tears taste like? cw: Suggestive, they match each other's freaks, semi nudity in some sense (they are all bones), kisses with blood, this one oneshot can be uncomfortable for some people…  note: The idea for this started here!

They had always been intrigued by each other, whether it was Color feeling both intimidated and curious about Killer's black tears, or Killer being captivated by Color's various flames— he didn't even attempt to mask his favoritism, enjoying it when their emotions caused the flames to spiral out of control.

Of the two, Killer had always been the most committed to experiments (or, as Color would describe it, morally inclined towards controversial experiments). However, in their recent encounters, Color couldn't shake a recurring thought: perhaps he was as fascinated by Killer's tears of determination as Killer was by his flames. What would they taste like? Would they be similar to blood? With a harsh, bitter flavor… Or would they be bittersweet, like the words of their owner? Sweet, yet with a dry, bitter aftertaste.

Gosh, I’m such a freak, he thinks; but wouldn’t Killer be just as, if not more, weird than him? After all, both had experienced rather… questionable situations. A memory flashes briefly before his eyes: one of the many kisses they had shared, but this time with each other’s blood on their teeth, spreading more and more red across their faces.

Without even realizing it, Color runs his tongue over his teeth, as if trying to taste Killer's bitter blood again. The flames emerging from the wound on his skull dance with even greater fervor, slipping slightly out of control with such not-so-normal thoughts — but since when has their relationship been anything but weird?

“Hello? Earth to Color!” The flames then settle back to their normal state, swaying freely within his skull. “I know you think about me all the time, but how about paying attention to me now that I’m here?”

A hand moves up and down his sternum; Color can feel Killer’s fingers lightly scratching the bone, leaving fleeting marks near his ribs.

They were lying on an old bed, their bodies pressed close together, with Killer draped slightly over Color — one leg pinning him against the mattress while his hand distracted him with gentle caresses.

While Killer was still fully dressed except for his coat, Color had removed everything except for his black shorts with a white stripe on each side.

“Sorry, I was just… you know what? Forget it, it’s weird.” He runs a hand over his face, letting it rest over his one functional eye.

The other arm pulls Killer closer (is that even possible?), gently tugging him by the shoulders.

“Keeping little secrets now?” Killer purrs, “And let’s be honest, there’s nothing weirder than me in this relationship.”

Color doesn’t even attempt to respond in the same playful tone; no, he’s too preoccupied with the sensation of the black liquid trickling from Killer’s empty eye sockets, flowing down the pillow and onto his ribs.

He had never paid such close attention to this detail before, but now it was the only thing on his mind. Color knew that the texture was like touching wet paint: sticky, uncomfortable, and certainly unpleasant once dried. And the smell. He had grown used to it, but at such close proximity, he could detect a faint odor of decay; subtle, yet still nasty.

But what about the taste? The hand that had been resting on his eye falls away; the small light within his eye socket shifts to focus on Killer, or rather, on the trails of liquid running down his bony cheeks. It would undoubtedly taste awful, just like the texture and the smell.

“Color? Are you okay? You’re oddly quiet…” The playful tone had vanished, leaving only concern in Killer’s voice — a tone not very familiar to Color.

Receiving no response, not even a grunt, Killer gets up from the bed, supporting himself on his forearms on the mattress, his face not so far from Color’s.

“Is it because of Chantilly? I know I promised not to bring any more cats here, but if you had seen his little face when I first saw him,” The liquid continued to drip, trailing down his chin until it finally fell onto Color, “and he doesn’t make that much of a mess — okay, he scratched the curtain one time, but he’s still scared and—”

Fuck it.

With a slight thrust from his spine, their faces collided, a gentle bump against each other. Before Killer could grasp what was happening — or think it might be the beginning of a kiss — Color opens his mouth, revealing a tongue the same color as his flames, and in a swift motion, licks Killer’s face.

The tongue moves from the tip of Killer’s chin to the edge of one of his eye sockets, cleaning the entire area in a single lick. The first thing he feels is a certain numbness, followed by a bad taste — bitter as he had imagined; perhaps it mixed with Killer’s tears as well, which would explain the salty taste that came afterward.

Still mulling this over, Color lays his head back down on the bed, not even noticing the state he has left the other skeleton in. Killer remains still, his mouth slightly open in surprise at Color’s unusual action. Now, his face was not only smeared with the remnants of his determined tears but also had a trail of saliva across it.

However, he doesn’t stay in that state for long.

“Was that the weird thing you were thinking about, hmm?” His soul vibrates between them as Killer finally settles all his weight onto Color’s lap, straddling him. “You really are a freak…”

Before Color could defend himself, Killer had already brought their faces close again, returning the lick Color had given him — but this one was very different from the previous one. It was slow, seeming to savor Color’s face with a certain tenderness, following the same path as Color’s tongue, from the tip of his chin to the end of his eye socket.

“Lucky for you, I can match our freaks, right?”

@toffeebrew @howlsofbloodhounds

[ozzgin]

hey beaut, can i request a yan ben drowned ticci toby nd ej with a chavvy reader from england ? like first impressions and their dynamic,, thank yuuu xxx

What a quirky request, haha. Very unexpected. I’ll let you know that I’m not too familiar with this stereotype, but I’ve seen a fair amount of social media examples, so hopefully it’s at least a little bit authentic.

Yandere! Creepypasta x Chav! Reader

Featuring Ticci-Toby, Ben Drowned and Eyeless Jack with a British chav reader that wins their hearts.

Ticci-Toby

He wouldn’t call it downright stalking, but Ticci-Toby has been observing you for a while now. Sometimes from afar, sometimes from a closer distance (such as your bedroom window), but his presence has always been concealed nonetheless. After thorough consideration he decides to approach you. You’re standing at the bus stop in your squeaky puffer jacket when you notice the pale stranger in unusual garments. You nervously chew on your gum and clutch your bag before finally speaking up. “What’re you staring at, luv?” His eyes immediately light up. Did you… did you just call him love?

Needles to say he’s over the moon. Only later does it occur to you that he doesn’t seem to grasp common slang, nor metaphorical talks for that matter. He takes things quite literally and you have to consider your wording before opening your mouth. That doesn’t stop you, however, from having a response ready at all times. That’s what Ticci-Toby really likes about you, you’re always there to ground him. It’s your raspy, mildly annoyed voice that snaps him out of his terrible paranoid episodes. He’s come to cherish the awakening “Are you mental, mate?”

He finds hanging out with you very comforting. In fact, both of you have started this little ritual of him draining his chatty moods while you sit in front of a mirror and do your makeup, interjecting every now and then with a little feedback. He gets to empty his brain of all the erratic thoughts and simultaneously admire your appearance. You’re perfect. For him, particularly.

Ben Drowned

Once again you’re woken up by the loud static in the living room. You drag your legs over to the TV with a knackered groan and slap the remote. Your ex partner had forgotten their video game at your place and ever since you’ve been getting outlandish messages and images stuck on the screen. Who would even play this? Did the game somehow mess up with your TV? This time it won’t turn off despite your attempts. The screen is frozen and you can make out a faded, pixelated text plastered in the corner: “It’s lonely here. Would you join me?”

Ben is fascinated by you and has been so ever since he’s been brought to this place. The forgotten video game was not unintentional: Ben had a fair amount of amusement from haunting your partner, and in a moment of despair they hoped relocating this cursed item would put the focus on someone else, like you. Although you’re rather oblivious to his scare tactics. This time is no different, but now he’s no longer interested in terrorizing you. Quite the opposite. How would you respond to his flustered confessions?

Being with Ben is a surreal experience, given that he can switch between the physical and digital realm with ease. He enjoys teasing you and lately he’s been cheeky in different ways, such as engaging in playful banter regarding your style and accent. It’s all in good fun and you do enjoy his humor. Though you wish he’d skip the riddles that only confuse you most of the time, or the sudden disappearances.

Eyeless Jack

Despite your repeated promises to yourself that you won’t go overboard with drinking ever again, here you are blacked out after a particularly lively party. To your defense, you didn’t expect to be woken up by some bizarre creature, and similarly it seems the man didn’t anticipate you’d be shaken out of your intoxicated state. You can see the glistening of a sharp tool in his hand and instantly sober up.

Both of you are stuck, contemplating the next move. Should Jack just kill you now? If he’s fast enough, you won’t have time to scream for too long. Then again, he does take pride in his silent surgical extractions. A messy fight would just go against his purpose. Your nostrils expand as they begin to accommodate to his presence. You sniff loudly a few times and gag involuntarily. Something stinks. “It’s you. You smell so shabby!” you exclaim and abruptly get up, reaching for your handbag that had been abandoned next to your bed earlier. You aggressively rustle its contents until you finally pull out a Victoria’s Secret perfume bottle. Satisfied, you begin spraying around the hooded man. He can only stare at you, speechless. “I cannot!” you keep repeating in disbelief.

Jack had snuck into your apartment hoping to leave with a fresh kidney and instead ended up perfumed and insulted by a drunken character. It’s this shameless unpredictability that has gotten him hopelessly interested in you. He loves to see your reactions and finds you greatly entertaining. On your end, you find him a proper, quirky lad, although a bit of a nutter. You’re also getting better at tolerating his intense odor that reminds you of black pudding. On one occasion Jack has offered to share his grisly nightly hunts with you, but you casually refused because you’ve got to stay snatched.

[jasmine-tea-biscuits]

Everyday I fight the urge to write a Leander fic inspired by the Darkling’s “fine make me your villain” line. Everyday I struggle not to rant about how he reminds me of that shadow wielding little shit.

And today’s the day yall get to hear about it. Sorry.

I’ve mentioned before that I think his kindness comes with another motive, which could involve studying the mc’s curse and potentially using it to his advantage. Perhaps against the Senobium? Perhaps his beef with them has to do with whatever he thinks is the greater good but perhaps he also believes he’s the only one capable of leading everyone there, and that’s why he needs you indebted to him and trusting him specifically.

And plenty of people have talked about the life and death imagery related to him, especially where immortality is concerned, which also makes me think he’s been biding his time for a LONG while, so losing the opportunity you present is NOT an option. He might’ve had perfectly good intentions when he began but maybe time and the isolation that comes with power has made him secretly very jaded, even if he’s not as crazy old as part of me likes to theorize.

Add to that the charisma and droves of followers despite (or maybe even thanks to) the mystery of where he came from and how he got this powerful?? On top of the fact he was already so fascinated with the curse, even calling it YOUR POWER, while seemingly being unaffected by it as if that shit wasn’t REALLY that out there for him to experience??? Like he could be familiar with that sort of power to begin with????

AND THEN THE SCREENSHOT OF HIM IN THE MC’S ROOM??!!!

ITS GIVING LIKE CALLS TO LIKE, ALIKE AS NO ONE ELSE WAS OR WOULD EVER BE, YOU AND I ARE GOING TO CHANGE THE WORLD, YOU WERE MEANT TO Be MY BALANCE TYPE OF OBSESSED!!!!

So yeah, I’m hoping Leander’s potential obsession with mc has something to do with him planning to use them till he realizes they might be the one person who gets him and he’s just desperate not to be alone again, even as he does terrible things for what he thinks is for the greater good.

But the part of my brain that hasn’t gotten rid of 17 year old me screaming about her questionable ships might be reaching and the very tense hand holding during the first meeting with him sure as shit ain’t helping my mental state. That screenshot could very well be a bad ending and all my theories and comparisons could mean nothing for the rest of his story. I could be delulu.

But I’ll be delulu till the game comes out.

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

Because some of you are far faster than I anticipated....

Here are the first few pages of next chapter/scrapped pages of the last chapter

WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS UNLESS YOU HAVE READ CHAPTER 37. I AM SERIOUS >:(

ETA: I did add a little extra onto the snippet as a 'sorry' for some of you ToT

She nodded and silently listened as the star gestured to the surrounding glowing trees. “When the order had been finally established, a primordial star decided to give up her spot in the sky, opting instead to stay on earth to guide the order and firmly cement its placement as the bridge between our worlds. It was a move that impressed the other stars, and to show their support for the newly found order, they made the Asterius that you saw in the market. One created and cultivated from the power of each court to symbolize its unity within the order.”

“Was there any particular reason why they chose a tree of all things as a symbol?” she asked, as she stared at the glowing trees, gently swaying in the night breeze.

“Yeah…but what’s with your tone? Trees are cool!” he frowned, almost sounding offended.

“They’re alright…but I mean why do stars take such interest in them if they’re practically everywhere? Surely you guys must have cooler things than just…trees!”

“We do but…Have you ever noticed that no matter how far into the heavens a tree can ascend it must always stay rooted to the earth to survive? It never forgets its origins, no matter how far or great it grows…” he smiled thoughtfully as his foot scuffed against the ground. “Isn’t that something?”

Asha slowly nodded, and turned her eyes upwards “Hmm I guess it does sound a bit more…fascinating when you describe it like that…but why do yours glow?”

The star hummed thoughtfully as he rubbed his chin, “Well, the short scientific and aesthetic answer would be bioluminescence to attract nocturnal pollinators. Plus you can always appreciate their beauty no matter what time of day. It makes the forests nicer, doesn’t it?”

She nodded in agreement, “It does. But what’s the long answer?”

“Well,” he started as he straightened himself. “I don’t know the details exactly but I think it’s also because of their connection to some greater network of energy both with each other and the world around them. One of my nannies would always tell me about it when I was little and couldn’t stop climbing them but it’s pretty convoluted if I’m being honest.”

“A network of energy…” she whispered as her eyes trailed the trees’ glowing roots. “Like your energy?”

“Something like that,” he shrugged before thoughtfully staring at the sky. “I mean they sort of come from our world…so I guess it only makes sense that they would act like that…”

“You know before you told me all of this, I never would’ve thought that something as simple as a tree could hold so much meaning in the grand scheme of things,” she confessed. “Sure there was the wishing tree, but that felt more like a relic than anything else…not some political  cosmic display of diplomacy…”

“You’d be surprised…there’s a reason why most Asterius made today are no longer created by all four courts…”

“They aren’t?” she asked, a bit taken aback as the star shook his head.

“No not anymore, not since Deneb’s asterius came into the picture…”

“Deneb has an asterius?”

“Most members of the royal star families and high-ranking nobles do…but few have a tree as controversial as hers….” he hesitated as if mentally debating over something before he eventually nodded and turned to her. “Asha” he stated suddenly as she straightened herself in sudden preparation. “You remember how when we were in the forest you told me that you knew that the crimson court hated Deneb because of your father’s writings, right?”

“Right,” she nodded, trying not to shift uncomfortably. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she could hear the king’s voice whispering to her. She couldn’t make out what he was saying but she was too afraid to find out.

“Did your father ever state why?” The star asked, thankfully silencing the king’s muffled voice as she shook her head. 

“No…his master had been vague about the situation…but from what I could tell, it seemed as if the bad blood between the two parties was a little more extensive than just the courts…it seemed like it involved the council too…”

“It did,” Cepheus carefully nodded. “But did he say anything else?”

“Well…he theorized that it was the result of some act of defiance she did a few years ago that involved her children…you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“I do,” he confessed. “I don’t know if you’ll like the story but I suppose for you to understand anything I’ll need to give you a few details…”

He gestured for her to follow as they slowly began to near the forest. “I’m not sure if I’ve told you this explicitly,” he started as the glowing trees and shrubbery began to surround them.   “but the crimson court and cerulean court have always had a mutual hatred of each other. They’ve led countless wars and battles against each other long before the order,  Deneb, and her children ever entered the picture.”

“Why?” She asked as she ducked beneath a low-hanging branch. “Was it differing philosophies? Scandalous love?” She asked the star who’d somehow managed to put a rather large walking distance between them. “Cultural differences? Why did they hate each other?”

He paused as if listening out for something before she finally made her way to his side, “Differing philosophies and a bloodthirsty competitiveness to conquer the galaxies,” the star frowned and abruptly looked away. Had…had he been ashamed of his court’s past? She wondered before he quietly continued, “Nevertheless it all seemed to come to a head when during one of these battles…the council, being as senile as they were, had grown both tired and indifferent to the constant fighting. So they decided to exercise their powers to ensure peace would prevail, one that, unlike their past attempts, could not be so easily dismissed…” The star sighed, slowly moving his hand as the air around his fingers began to glow a soft misty blue.

Slowly the world around them began to ripple, and blur.

She blinked, trying to rub the uneasiness from her eyes as her surroundings slowly began to come into focus as she looked around. They were still in a forest, that much she could be sure of as the familiar sight of large, thick glowing forestry greeted her.

But where the distant town of Banquo had once stood was gone, and in its place was a seemingly endless glowing body of water. 

Were they…at the beach? No this couldn’t have been the beach, at least not one she’d been familiar with. Her eyes traced along the light blue shoreline as she took one hesitant step forward before rubbing her eyes in disbelief.

The beach was glowing. Real beaches didn’t glow. But the feel of the calm sea breeze passing through her braids had nearly convinced her otherwise.

“Wait…” she started, looking around. “Is this another illusion like what you did with the scrolls?”

“Something of the sort,” the star smiled as he spoke from behind her. “Are you enjoying the view?”

She nodded, before looking around again, “Yeah! It’s…beautiful -,” her voice trailed off as she took in the sight of the star who’s skin was now a beautiful shade of cyan, while his hair was nearly white. 

Was this what a blue star looked like? She wondered, as she looked him over and over again.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring, but it was enough to earn herself an all too knowing grin as the star arrogantly extended a sapphire colored wing. “I was talking about the sea, but if you think I’m beautiful as well, and wish to stare,” he chuckled as another wing revealed itself. “then by all means, my dear-,” 

“What?!” She scoffed, before waving her hands dismissively as she looked away. Thank God her blushes weren’t visible. “Ha! No! No way! I was talking about the beach! Not you! It’s the beach that’s beautiful, see?! You’re just…blue!” 

“Mmhmm.” He hummed teasingly as his now gray colored iris seemed bright with laughter. “Well either way I hope you enjoy either view you choose to partake in….although I must admit asha…. That the sea, is unfortunately not located where your eyes are currently focused.” 

“I know that!” She snapped and sharply turned to face the body of water, hoping to enjoy any semblance of peace that she could get.