#i’ve been trying to figure out how to describe it for awhile

[elvencantation]

i feel like i get literal psychic damage when i think about capitalism too long

[bookshelf-dust]

Hii love!! I absolutely LOVE your works and was wondering if you could write a fic where Billy finds the readers s/h scars and asks about it? The reader kinda opens about why they did and Billy is super confused about why you would purposely hurt yourself, but he swears to himself he’d never let you do that again?? If not, that’s perfectly fine, i know this topic is pretty sensitive to people🤍🤍

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,513

warnings: SH trigger warning!! please heed that. mentions of self harm (specifically cutting), scars described, areas on skin. all scars are healed and reader has recovered. please do not read this if this will make you uncomfortable. this is meant to be comforting and let you know that things do get better. it is about acceptance and change.

a/n: anon!! thank you for this idea. i just want to put it out there that i’m not taking requests for the foreseeable future, and haven’t been for quite awhile, but i got sent this and i felt really compelled to write it because it’s something that’s important to me. i felt like i could do it justice, at least a little bit, and i really hope that it will provide you with some comfort. this is something close to my heart, and my goal here is that it will reach someone the right way and encourage them to keep going. i love you all so much!! please go easy on me as i’ve never written anything like this before. also did a bit of a different format! anyway, mwah! 🥰

————

Billy knows you’re shy. Of course he does. 

But he wants you to feel as comfortable with him as he does with you. He’s never felt as relaxed and safe as he does when he’s around you. Hell, he’s never allowed himself to let his guard down in this way. 

Inviting you to sleep over was his olive branch, hoping you’d have a space where you could be fully you. He has the house to himself, and he knows that will help ease your anxiety. All Billy wants is to give you all that you’ve given him. And maybe more.

Billy had just stripped, pulling on sweats and an old t-shirt, not caring whether you saw him in his underwear. He’s yours anyway. Sure, you haven’t gone very far in your relationship, but he still wants you to see how comfortable you’ve made him. He’s never done this casual intimacy thing before. 

“I’ll be just a second, okay?” You give him a gentle smile, feet softly padding against the worn hardwoods, sleeve brushing the door frame as you walk by. 

Billy watches you walk out of his room with your pajamas tucked under your elbow. “Okay, baby.” 

He busies himself while you’re gone, straightening the bed, finding the tv remote. (He’d never be allowed to roll it into his room if he weren’t home alone.) He figures you’re taking your makeup off too, maybe doing something with your hair, and heads to the kitchen to make some popcorn for you both to share. 

In the bathroom, you take a deep breath as you pull on your nightgown. You don’t pride yourself in having nice or fancy things to sleep in, but you felt like bringing this with you because it’s one of the few things you own that makes you feel pretty. Something about a freshly washed face and the soft fabric make you all…content. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror. The gown is not tight by any means, and actually a color that brings out your eyes. It has little bows on the sleeves and a tiny strip of lace at the hem. You don’t tend to dress for anyone but yourself, but you do think Billy will like this. Some part of you craves that feeling. 

He’s never even seen your legs before, much less your collarbones. And not because you’re trying to be modest, but because it’s been cold and any other opportunity hasn’t presented itself. Showing someone so much of yourself is harder than you anticipated. And you anticipated quite a bit of work. 

You inhale and exhale deeply, shaking out your arms. You can’t help but be nervous. You’ve never slept over with a boy before. But it’s Billy. Your Billy. What is there to be worried about?

Billy returns to his bedroom shortly after you’ve sat down and queued up the movie for you both to watch. You take the popcorn he offers you, the socks that are much too big, and snuggle into the worn pillows propped up against his headboard. 

You’re sitting too far away for Billy’s liking, munching on your snack and trying to focus on the beginning of Nightmare on Elm Street as if you haven’t seen it over ten times. His eyes can’t stop dragging over your bare legs. This is the first time he’s seen them, and he wants you and all that skin closer.

“Baby,” he drawls.

You can feel his big blue eyes on you, but for once you really are paying attention. “Yeah?” you hum, licking butter from the tip of your thumb.

You don’t even look over at him, and Billy lets out a huff of a laugh. The noise prompts you to spare a glance in his direction, but he’s already got an arm wrapped around your thigh, yanking you across the sheets until you’re pressed against his side. 

He tries not to convey how excited he is that he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, how soft your inner thigh feels. He frees you though, laughing at the “Oomph” you let out before settling yourself more comfortably. 

You swing your leg over both of Billy’s, handing him your popcorn remains and resting your head on his shoulder. He happily sticks his hand in your little bowl, eating what you’d left behind. 

As the movie progresses and Billy finishes all the popcorn, you shift further and further into him. It makes Billy so happy to see you act so comfortable around him. This is everything he was hoping for. He sets your empty bowls on his side table and wipes his hands clean with the wet rag he’d brought with him.

You’re engrossed in the movie, laughing every now and then at something you shouldn’t find funny, or clutching at Billy’s fingers when you get stressed out during a tense moment.

God, he’s so happy to be with you. If he could make this night last forever, he would. Billy kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around your back, his hand coming to rest on the top of your thigh. You don’t think much of the gesture, only feeling a shiver run down your spine at the contact. At his warm hand on your skin.

Your skin.

Your nightgown has ridden up a bit, and suddenly you register exactly where Billy’s hand is. You take a deep breath, hoping he won’t rub your thigh and feel what you’ve avoided showing him for so long. 

You try not to worry, try to keep your focus on the movie, but you can’t. Your bubble has popped. You want to adjust your nightgown, but you’re afraid to draw more attention to the area, afraid to offend him and make him think you don’t want his touch. 

Billy’s thumb starts to stroke back and forth on your skin. You can feel the exact moment he registers that it doesn’t feel the way it should. The way your arms do, the way the soft backs of your hands do when he takes them in his. 

You feel him sit up slightly, crane his head to look at you. At your thigh.

Upon touching your leg, Billy had expected smooth skin. But he met ridges. Bumps. Lines of raised skin. He knew that wasn’t normal, and it sent a surge of curiosity or maybe even concern through him. 

What he sees confuses him. What happened to your leg? 

“Baby? What’s that?”

He’s sitting up fully now, prompting you to do the same before you fall against the bed. 

The longer he looks at it, the more confused he gets. There are scars on your leg. They’re not big, but there are a lot of them. So many that it’s scaring him. Some thin, some thicker. Different shades of scar tissue and scratched skin that never returned to its original state. 

They aren’t fresh, no, not at all. They are all healed. But he’s so confused because he’s gotten lots of cuts and bruises throughout his life, and they’ve never looked like yours do. They don’t look like a normal injury does. These look…deliberate. And he doesn’t understand.

You turn around and sit on your knees. I guess it’s now or never, you think. If you don’t tell yourself that, you’ll probably throw up. And if you hadn’t moved so far past this, you’d feel even worse. 

“They’re scars,” you say, rubbing your elbow. 

Billy flicks your knee, mainly because he doesn’t know how to react, his other hand rubbing down his face. “No shit.”

Your heart is pounding despite the fact that this is something you have long overcome and are not ashamed of. Even still, there is a part of you that hopes he won’t be disgusted with you. It’s the same part that hasn’t let the relationship go as far as you’d like it to. 

“I put them there.”

Billy blinks. Even if some part of him knew that’s where this was headed, he still can’t wrap his head around that. “What?” 

His eyes dart to your leg again, wondering if the scars are more extensive than what he can see. He’s scared of how badly you’ve hurt yourself. If he’s not careful, his eyes will glaze over. 

“A few years ago. You know how I’ve mentioned my depression and anxiety? And how I have medicine? How it was hard for me to go on dates with you at first or how sometimes I get standoffish?” 

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“Well, you’ve been really good at reassuring me and understanding my panic attacks and stuff, and I’ve gotten a lot better at managing these things. But before all of that, before how I am now, I had no one. I was all alone, and I couldn’t deal with my feelings. So I took it out on myself. I started cutting myself as a way to cope.” You hate to admit all of this, but he deserves to know.

You start fidgeting with your fingertips and break eye contact with him. Billy’s lips have formed a stern pout, his brows knitting together in a way that shows he’s trying to understand you. To him, he really is just trying to comprehend this. But to you, that’s the look of shame you’ve been awaiting. You don’t want to be looked at that way.

You sit on your hands and stare at a string that’s come loose from your worn-in comforter. 

“Anyway, I didn’t have anyone to help me. I couldn’t talk about how sad and lonely and angry I was, and I certainly wasn’t ready for a doctor. I kept it all in, figuring it was safer that way. But that got to me, and I chose to take it out on myself. There.” You touch your thigh. “Here and here.” Your fingers brush your stomach and hip. “Here too.” Your forearm. I know it’s horrible, but that’s what I chose to do. And I wouldn’t ever want someone else to choose that.” 

“I didn’t want to die, I just wanted the hurt to stop. I needed an outlet for all of those suffocating feelings, and that was what I did. Hurting myself helped me feel better because at least I was expressing something. And I was able to punish myself for being so unlike everyone else. So quiet, so hard to love, so different.”

Your heart is pounding but you steal a quick glance at Billy. He can’t fight the emotion from showing on his face anymore. He feels his eyelashes getting thick with tears that are threatening to spill at any moment. 

“I know this is probably hard to understand. I know you might be disgusted with me. But I guess it’s better that you know, right? I should’ve been more open about it with you sooner to avoid it being so…complicated.”

You stop, not really knowing what else there is to say. You’re hoping that this will encourage him to say something. Anything. You’d be happy to answer a question at this point.

Billy brings the hem of his shirt up to wipe his eyes. You wince, feeling awful for making him emotional over this. 

He takes a moment to try and wrap his head around what he’s just heard. He’s had a habit of self-medicating with alcohol, with cigarettes, hell, even ego lifting shit he shouldn’t at the gym. But everyone copes differently, right? You wouldn’t do what he does. He wouldn’t do what his dad does.

He just can’t bear the thought of thinking that someone would physically do that to themselves. That you, his perfect girl, would be feeling so low that you’d make yourself bleed just in search of relief from the pain. He can’t understand it, but at the same time, he sees that it comes in different forms. 

Billy reaches out for your hands, waiting for you to take them. The pressure behind your eyes immediately softens at the gesture.

“Don’t apologize to me, okay? I’m just trying to process.” He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your warm skin.

“Okay.”

He kisses each of your knuckles in turn, maintaining eye contact all the while. He straightens, not letting go of your fingers. “I don’t like to think about you being in any sort of pain. Imagining you doing that to yourself…fuckin’ breaks my heart.” 

You tilt your head, scanning his face. He’s hurting for you, and you want to take it away. “It’s okay, Billy. I’m so much better now.”

“But I wish that I’d known you when you were hurting so damn bad. Y-you were alone, and I’m angry that no one was there to pull you out. I would’ve helped you.”

You squeeze his hands. “Billy, baby. I wouldn’t have let you help me.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice cracking. 

“Because I didn’t want to get better. I was comfortable in an endless cycle of hurt, and I had to be the one to finally change something.”

Billy leans forward until his forehead is resting against your chest. “I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that, and I know you sure as hell don’t want my pity, but I just can’t have you ever be in pain.”

You weave your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. “I know, Billy. I’m okay, I promise? I’ve worked really hard to be okay.”

He straightens, cupping your face. “God, I know you have. I’m never gonna let you hurt like that again, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Billy. That’s not a place I ever want to return to.”

He leans in and kisses you with so much passion, using his lips to say more than he could ever form into words, that it leaves you feeling dazed. Loved.

“I’m so proud of you,” Billy says. 

You smile at him, and if he weren’t already sitting, he’d need to because of how weak you make him. 

“Thank you for respecting me and not treating me differently. You have no idea how much that means.”

Billy’s hands slide down to rest on your collar bones. “Why on earth would I treat you differently? Have people before? If anything it shows me how much of a fucking star you are, because you got through that all on your own. You got through it and now I have the pleasure of being yours.” 

You feel like someone’s poured warm water down your back. “People are usually awful about it, yeah. But that doesn’t matter. I’m grateful that you’re so accepting. And I want to be more open with you.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about that, baby. I’m working on my patience, so I’m happy to wait and learn every inch of you. Inside and out.” He winks at you, hoping to coax out a smile. It works.

“I’m so glad I got to this point,” you admit to him. You never say that out loud. 

“Fuck, so am I.” He kisses your forehead. “My best girl.”

[yangjungwonisms]

Hello!

I’ve been sitting on this blurb for a couple of years now and have always been too scared to post it lol

So here goes!

This is a Han Jisung blurb I wrote awhile back that I’m actually really happy with!

I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

Clueless in love, Han Jisung.

okay, so maybe jisung had never had the best luck with girls. It’s not that girls don’t like him. He actually does fairly well. Well, that is is until he opens his mouth to speak. You see he’s not a bad guy really, he just has trouble expressing himself. When he opens his mouth to speak the words get jumbled and they come out all wrong. He has only had a relationship with one girl but they had nothing in common and it was going nowhere. Most of the time jisung doesn’t mind not dating much. Figured he’s in college and there’s plenty of time for that later.

He’s so oblivious sometimes. So stuck in his head he doesn’t pay attention to what’s in front of him. That’s exactly where you come in.

It’s exam season and jisung is so busy trying to make sure he passes all of his classes because he really can’t afford to retake anymore classes. Jisung gets so distracted that he doesn’t see you walk right in front of him. In fact, he notices you for all of about 2 seconds before you both get knocked to the ground. Shit, jisung thought, he really has to start watching where he goes. Guilt hits him immediately when he hears you start to apologize. In the middle of all of this jisung stops to really take you in. He immediately freezes because he thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. He’s so flustered he nearly misses you talking to him at all that is until he hears you offer to buy him coffee sometime to make up for this whole ordeal. He finally forces himself to speak. Internally begging himself not to say something stupid. Thankfully he just says his name and asks for you number. Wow, he thinks, he’s on top of his game today. If jisung was a perceptive man he’d notice that you were totally into him. In fact, he’s not sure where his confidence came from all of a sudden. He just knows no matter what happens moving forward he just wants to know you.

Jisung is scared. That’s putting it mildly he thinks. He’s sure he’s never been in love before but he’s pretty sure he feels that way about you. Since he first met you jisung finds himself daydreaming about you. About what you’re doing, if you’re feeling okay. He sometimes even wonders if you’re thinking about him too. You are, but there’s no way he’d know that. Jisung constantly thinks about the countless calls and texts shared between the two of you. He finds himself longing to be near you all the time even if you’re doing nothing. He’s never found himself comforted by another person like he was by you. He’s never cared much about connecting with anyone but he wants to talk about his days with you. More importantly, he wants to talk about yours. Jisung is terrified to ask you out because he’s convinced himself you’re too good for him. When he finally does tell you how he feels he swears he could cry. All these months of pining for you, of feeling himself fall deeper everyday. What happened next he’d never be able to prepare himself for. He swears he saw your whole future together flash before his eyes when you leaned into kiss him. He wouldn’t tell you about this moment for years to come. Suddenly he doesn’t care that’s he’s never been good with the ladies. He’d sooner relive all those failed dates if it still meant he’d get you at the end. There are times he messes up and doesn’t know what to do and there are times when he accomplishes all he’s worked for. Like when when he finally graduates college after a long five years. He still considers you the best thing he’s ever done. He got you right and nothing else matters to him. Sometimes he looks back at your relationship and when he’s too choked up to think of a way to describe what you mean to him and how you make him feel he comes up with one word. Home.

[blueskiestarot]

Hello blueskies tarot! First of all I would like to say that I really love your readings and I’m finally caught up on all of them heheh. 🌷🌷

But recently I’ve been having a really strange experience and I would love to share my story and hopefully get insight or an answer from someone reading this and to see if someone had the same experience.

I’ve been having a huge crushes and infatuation on someone who was inaccessible to me, but the weird thing I always kept receiving signs and messages that this person is for me and that they will make a move towards me really soon, like for example in one of your readings it said they are coming towards me and the description fit this person exactly along with other signs like repeating numbers.

This is not the first time this thing happens to me, it happened before where I would start receiving many signs related to a certain person telling me that they are my soulmate and then after a few weeks a revelation happens and I figure out that this person is not for me. This has made me feel very hopeless, stuck and delusional. I felt like I can’t trust the universe and that all the guidance I received from spirit is deceptive. Honestly I feel like there’s something wrong. Why does spirit keep showing me signs and syncs that lead to a dead end? It happened several times before, where I discovered the truth of the situation and then the signs stopped then kept coming back referring to another. Is spirit leading me on?

This has been wrecking my mental health really bad, I’m starting to feel hopeless because I just keep engaging in limerence.

The last time this happened I frantically opened an online tarot deck and picked a random spread I got a card, but I can’t remember which one that said what seems to be random might not be random at all.

The only conclusions I can come up with are either that I’m interpreting the signs wrong, or I’m engaging with a deceptive spirit that’s pretending to be my spirit guide or in a false matrix.

However I really doubt that I’m interpreting the signs wrong because all of them have keys that point to something specific about each person.

Thank you if you’ve read this far. I really don’t know what to do, I feel so hopeless about my love life, and I’m scared to believe any signs that I receive from the universe :(

Hi, love!

I'm sorry you're going through that and feeling confused. I hope I can help! Just know that these thoughts are purely my opinion and my own experiences. ♥️

So, first of all, when you start to feel like your mental health is being negatively impacted by readings, that is a clear sign that it's time to take a break from reading and/or watching readings for awhile. I would suggest taking a week off and trying to avoid pick a pile readings as much as possible. You can always come back to them after that and see if things have changed or if you are in a better head space. Never consume media that is making you feel bad in any way.

Secondly, it's SOOOOOO important to use your discernment when reading pick a pile readings. These readings rely heavily on your intuition because you're picking the pile you are intuitively drawn to. So, if you know that a connection with someone is not possible, I think it would be safe to say that the reading is not for you even if it sounds like the person you are connecting with. Keep in mind that many people pick the same pile as you. So, they may be dealing with similar people. Just think of how many people you've met that could be described using the same description, you know? So, just be super weary of if it really sounds like that person or if it's a general description and you just want it to be them. Again, it's all about being self-aware and using your discernment.

It's also important to note when you are infatuated with someone as opposed to having a real connection with them. If it's someone you've never talked to and the reading says they are thinking of marriage with you, that's a clear indicator that the reading is not for you. So, use your judgement to know when messages are for based on what is going on in your connection. One of my favorite readers on YouTube is Shadow Play Tarot and she always includes a "delulu checkpoint" in her videos when she says something that she feels may mislead someone into giving into delusions. It's just a checkpoint to sort of bring you back to reality and check in with your current situation so that you can ask yourself "does this really resonate with me or do I just want it to?" Readings should never tell you how you feel or what's going to happen. They should simply confirm what you already know and/or feel. So, for example, if I had a connection that seemed to have ended on bad terms and the other person seemed to hate me but a reading said that they were going to come back in a week, I would ask myself "is that really true based on what I know to be true?" I hope that makes sense. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you should see evidence in real life of what the reading is trying to tell you or it should confirm your intuitive feelings.

Always check in with yourself and observe how a reading is making you feel. If it's triggering or doesn't confirm what you already feel, then it's not for you.

Also, detachment is your friend. Sometimes we're too close to the situation and can't see what is actually going on. I feel like we can manifest what could be mistaken as signs from spirit by thinking heavily of someone. So, if you are constantly thinking of a person and are completely lost in the sauce when it comes to them, you could potentially manifest seeing signs of them in your outside world. Try detaching from them for a bit by distracting yourself with other things. If you're still seeing the signs, then they are likely from Spirit.

Lastly, in my own opinion, I do not think that Spirit is above lying to us in order for us to learn a lesson or to get us to do what they want. So, if you are meant to learn a specific lesson from someone but they aren't "your person", I fully believe they will lie and trick you into believing that person is for you until you've learned that lesson. Same goes if someone IS for you. If you're too attached and f*cking up the connection by overthinking, being super fearful, or doubtful, they will trick you into believing you need to let it go in order to get you to detach so that your energy is not sabotaging things. So, my point is that Spirit can and will manipulate you into believing something so that they can guide you toward learning a specific lesson or toward doing a certain action. It's all done in the name of your highest good but that doesn't change that the fact that they are lying and manipulating you. It's not malicious at all. So, if you do feel like you are being lied to in a malicious way like there is a spirit posing as your spirit guide, make sure you are clearing the energy out of your space regularly and make sure you are protecting your energy as well.

I hope that helps somewhat! And if anyone else has any advice, that would so helpful! 🫶 Love, Tara

[gurokichi]

I could never become bored of you, not that easily, at least! You are my Bon, you can't get rid of me that easily <3

Yeah, I got 2 kitties! Both of them are boys, and their names are Pickle and Bean! Maybe one day you'll get to see pictures of them! I also have a dog, snails, isopod, beetles, chickens, and hermit crabs! Got a bit of a zoo around here!

I'll definitely watch some of your suggestions, and I will be sure to tell you my thoughts! Just another excuse to talk to you!

I will hopefully be posting on my blog again soon, and I am so excited to now that I know you will be watching my blog (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

I mainly read fiction, distopian, and horror/gore. But also, like when books have lgbt+ characters, and have read a few Manga! I just borrowed a book from a friend called "The Corpse Queen" by Heather M. Herrman, I strongly suggest it, I've also just started reading a GL Manga series called "Whisper Me a Love Song" and so far have been really enjoying it!!! I like plants in many ways, I learn about plants, I grow both indoor and outdoor plants, and I have a fascination with all living or once living things,,, and they happen to fit in that category too!!! I don't think I could pick just one flower as my favorite, but I do enjoy Asters a lot! Bleeding hearts? awe, it makes sense that a sweetie like you would love a poisonous flower!

What video games do you like to play? I'd love to hear all about your current favorite game! What part of history do you like so much? Oh and you collect things too! I would love to hear all about your little hoards 💕

-Dolly

I’M YOUR BON?? ASJHFSHBHKHGSGHFHJKSHLJS (＞＜)

Okay. Anyways. Sorry, got a lil excited there... I’m your Bon, and you’re my Doll!! All mine!!! I’m glad to hear that you wouldn’t get bored and leave. I’d do anything to make sure my precious doll stays with me!

AWH, they sound so darling. You have so many… how do you keep up with all of them??That’s really cool, though! You definitely have some uncommon pets.

I’m excited to hear your thoughts (๑>◡<๑)

I will definitely be watching my doll’s blog! How could I not? Anyone would find it hard to take their eyes off you. Besides, I’d love to see more of your posts when you decide to go back to it.

Ah, those are all good genres! Thank you for the recommendation, and I’ll check out the manga you mentioned later. Asters are gorgeous; my doll has great taste in flowers!!

I usually prefer games with long stories. I like RPGs and visual novels the most! I find pixel art really nice to look at, so a lot of my favorite games feature that. I’ve been playing through a farming sim called Fields of Mistria lately; it’s been really enjoyable so far! The best way I could describe it is as a mix of Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing. As for my current favorite games, they’re probably… Minecraft, Danganronpa, Persona 5 Royal, and Identity V. I’m not finished playing through P5R, but I like it so far. I’m currently replaying and trying to get all achievements in every Danganronpa game! I’ve finished Trigger Happy Havoc, and I’m now working on Goodbye Despair. Having a bit of trouble though, because I have a friend I’m sharing my Steam library with who is ALSO playing through the Danganronpa games. I can’t play the games until they get off, bleh. AH, I also started a playthrough of Red Dead Redemption 2. I suck ass at it. I ended up punching my horse when trying to get on it. I also drew my gun on it multiple times. So sorry to my horse, it did not deserve that. It took me like 10 minutes and frantic googling to figure out how to get back on my horse after I accidentally got off (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Do you play any videogames? If you do, I’d love to hear about what you like to play.

Ah, I just like history in general. I love to learn about things. Some things that caught my interest for awhile in the past though are torture/execution methods, the Chernobyl disaster, the Carrington event, WW2, old medical treatments, and Greek mythology. I haven’t been into history as much lately.. so I probably couldn’t explain anything here well.

I do collect stuff! I have a collection of various plushies, figurines, keychains, and knickknacks stored in my room. I think my favorite things that I own are probably my jar of uranium glass and this stunning piece of bismuth I got just a couple weeks ago. I’d like to start a full on collection of uranium glass, but that’s expensive, and I have no idea where I’d put it. Uranium glass is absolutely gorgeous, though! I hope to at least get a couple more pieces in the future.

[leanbeefpattysimp3]

(Omg I can’t believe I’m finally writing this story, I’m so excited to be putting this into words for myself and you guys, I know that some people aren’t fans of fanfic OC stories, but to the people who do I really appreciate y’all and I hope you guys enjoy this story. If you’d like to learn more about my OC, Solomon, you can look at my pinned post. And please feel free to give constructive criticism, everything helps :)

Daughter of The Tiger Slayer( A Baki OC Story)

Chapter 1: Shuten-dōji

Solomon’s (OC) POV: “Good morning ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of American Airlines, it is my pleasure to welcome you aboard flight 158 with service to Dallas, Texas and continuing service to Tokyo, Japan-” the airline lady on the speaker announced as I boarded the plane. I start walking towards where on the top on the entrance way read “First Class”. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to get on an airplane before just because of the fact I was able to purchase a first class ticket with the money I made from my last fight in Arizona. Who knew an old military man would pay anything to see you fight? “-If you are seated in an exit row, you may be required to assist the crew in an evacuation. If you are unable or unwilling to perform the functions described on the card, just ask to be re-seated. Thank-you.” Oh thank God she’s done talking, I get it’s her work voice but gah damn it sounds too nice and peppy. I get into the first class area, and holy shit this place is bougie! I’m not a fan of the word but I don’t know how else to explain how fancy this area is? Well, fancy technically is the word for it. As I’m looking for my seat I get a glimpse at a huge guy already sitting down in his spot…wait a second- is that? I get a better look and sure enough- “Mr.Unchained? Is that you?” I hear that laugh of his that I can’t mistake for anyone else’s. Mr.Unchained, whose real name is Biscuit Oliva, went to previous fights of mine, including the last one since it was so close to the Arizona State Prison. “Why it sure is kid, I had to come see you before you were able to run away forever!” Oliva laughs as he gets up and gives me a bear hug. “I would’ve came by and said goodbye to you and everyone but with how urgent this is-” “Kiddo you don’t gotta explain yourself, your family is a priority, that’s why I brought it upon myself to stop by before the plane took off.” He says as he pats your shoulder. He’s been like a father figure since I started fighting in America, helping me learn and understand that even brute strength can get you through fights. He didn’t teach me many things, but what he did teach me helped me get better as a fighter, and as a person. “Thank you for being understanding, I’m gonna miss you a lot Mr.Unchained” I’m trying to keep my composure but I let a few tears slide, I mean I’ve know all these people for so long but now I’m leaving them permanently, it hurts like hell, but it hurts more knowing that I almost just lost my dad and I would’ve never gotten to see him ever again. Oliva takes one of his handkerchiefs out of his pants pocket and wipes my tears, “It’ll hurt for awhile, but if you ever need me, I’m a phone call away and I’ll fly out to Japan the same day you call.” He gives me a big cheerful smile that makes me feel better. He gives me one more hug before starting to head out of the plane. “Oh and Solomon-” I look back towards the broad man standing on the other side of the entrance, “-you better kick some ass in Japan, Doppo will be very proud to see how much his daughter has grown, literally, you’re a giant compared to how small you were when I first met you!” He laughs as he walks out of the plane, and as soon as I can’t see him anymore people start filling up the plane. Definitely my que to find my spot- wait was that my spot Oliva was waiting for me in? I walk over to where he was sitting, and on the side table was a card with a box. I put the duffel bag I’ve been carrying under my seat as I sit down and grab the card, It’s really pretty, gold and a sage looking green splattered around it. I open the card and read it, “My last gift to you, Solomon Orochi. -Biscuit Oliva” it wrote. I look over at the box and pick it up, it’s quite light for a gift from Oliva. I open the box and take out the thin blue paper that was cover a new set of fighting clothes, the typical shorts and sports bra. Once I saw the clothes I took them out of the box to look at, they were completely black besides what was written on the chest of the sports bra, which was my fighting name, Shuten-dōji.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

tell us more about the vannesa lines hastsune mischa. t e l l u s a b o u t t h e l i n e s (ps happy new years. hope your having a good 2023)

Happy New Years!! hope this year treats you right! 💕💕

okay, so the cut lines, right? WASTED POTENTIAL.

i’m gonna go through each of the most interesting ones and just share some thoughts on them.

overall, in most of them, Vanessa speaks in a very soft-spoken voice. i know i’ve used this word a lot to describe it, but “timid” really is the best way i can express what she sounds like. she sounds much more docile than she is in the game itself, where she appears to be a lot more jaded, aloof, and commanding. this further makes me believe she was meant to be a more unassertive, subdued character. rather than being a grouchy security guard, she was a girl that has been broken down by constant abuse and psychological torment, making her submissive, quiet, and nervous.

“i’m here to help.” / “Gregory, i can keep you safe.” / “i’m here to help you”

in and of itself, these are not that interesting of a line, but i’m only pointing it out because i think Vanessa only says she’s trying to help Gregory in the trailers and unused voice lines. in the actual game, she’s mostly just griping about how she wants to detain him somewhere until morning (which is completely valid, her job is on the line).

but in the unused voice lines, she was clearly meant to be a much more helpful figure. it seems she wants to find Gregory not because she’s worried about her job and is annoyed that there’s some kid running around, but because she seems genuinely worried about it. perhaps because she knows more than she lets on? she knows the true danger of the Pizzaplex? the tone of her voice seems to say so.

“i’m sorry.”

again, not that interesting on a line on its own, but it’s her tone. when you watch the video i linked, you can hear the switch in her tone from the previous voice lines to that one. it’s much more low, almost dry compared to how she sounded before. i just think it’s interesting in the switch.

“i think we lost him.”

this HAS to be directed to Gregory. she seems to be whispering, i think. maybe they’re hiding from someone?

“him” has to be referring to the animatronics, and i think it’s about Freddy. after all, Freddy was meant to have a darker role in the game. so maybe there was a point in the original game where instead of Freddy accompanying Gregory, it was Vanessa for awhile.

“i found him!” / “he can’t be far!” / “he’s here!” / “get over here!”

i just think this one is interesting because it’s most definitely about Gregory, and it’s just a complete tone shift from how she was beckoning to him before. it’s a lot more fitting for how she is in the actual game, forceful and irritated.

“i don’t know how to fix it.”

unsure who this was said to. maybe she was talking to herself? regardless, she sounds very defeated and anxious.

“what am i going to do?”

she literally sounds like she’s about to cry.

“if Freddy was working, we would have him by now!”

Freddy’s broken. maybe this leads into Freddy becoming a bad guy? or maybe this is just referring to how he’s meant to be in lockdown or when he was down in Parts and Service.

anyway, she sounds very desperate and hopeless. on the brink of a whole breakdown, even.

“okay! i didn’t mean to!”

one of the Big Lines.

you can hear her stammering on the “okay.” i can also PERFECTLY visualize the body language she would have during this: shoulders hunched inward, head bowed, bearing the general disposition of a dog that’s being scolded by its owners.

and again, this HAS to be said because someone scolded her or got mad at her. and it has to be evil Freddy or Glitchtrap/Burntrap/William. there’s no way anyone else would reprimand her, especially in a way that gets THAT reaction out of her.

“he walks through every security door like he owns the place!”

more of that anxious irritation. she seems to be getting restless.

and again, it’s another jarring switch from that gentle tone before and into a more biting one.

“no, i can find him! it won’t be like the last one…”

the BIG LINE.

other people have gone missing, that much we know in the actual game itself. but this line implies that Vanessa is kinda wrapped up in it. she’s aware of the missing people (if that’s what this is referring to. i don’t know why it wouldn’t be), so it’s an actual plot point and not just something that’s mentioned a few times and then lingers in the background.

it seems to me like she was REALLY involved in what’s happening. she sounds like she’s tried to save someone before, and it didn’t work out, ending it something bad happening (probably death).

one could say that she says this because, you know, she’s a security guard. gotta keep watch and stuff! but i think this is much deeper than that. like she tried to, perhaps, overcome the control over her body and let one of her victims go, but was unable to fight against it…

also, once again, her tone. she sounds so deeply sad and pained. she seems like she’s about to cry. and at the very end of it, you can hear her take a very faint, quivering breath. just soemthing of note!

“i have the second key!”

TONE SHIFT! TONE SHIFT! TONE SHIFT!

she has a very dark, sinister tone here. like she’s possessed? 👀

also i think this is considered a cut Vanny line. can’t remember, though.

“look, i don’t know where it is.” / “do you know how many arcade games there are?” / “i’ll find it eventually.” / “i’ve looked everywhere!” / “it’s not here!”

she was looking for something. maybe that “second key” that was mentioned? or maybe an arcade game (Princess Quest perhaps?).

“Gregory, we can get you out of here. you and me, together.”

this one comes from the February 25th trailer!

it further entails that Vanessa was, in fact, gonna be a more helpful figure that worked alongside Gregory!

“they won’t stop hunting you. none of them will stop hunting you!”

from the February 25th trailer.

ANOTHER BIG LINE!!!

the FEAR. the WORRY. the ANGUISH. this one single line has more emotion in it than the ENTIRE GAME ITSELF.

she just sounds so scared! she seems to know something, something deeper than what’s on the surface. like this has happened before…

i mean, saying, “hey, these robots WILL NOT stop hunting you” is a pretty damn bold claim. how else would she know that the animatronics will not stop going after Gregory if she didn’t KNOW how this sort of thing worked? also the emotion in her voice is too potent and powerful to be anything regular. she definitely has some larger connection to everything.

also the way her voice breaks on the “none of them.” god, just the EMOTION.

“we have to get you out by morning.”

from the February 25th trailer.

once again, this is spoken with that soft, worried tone.

“you will do as i say! you will bring me what i want! and if you fail me, then you will… both of you will BURN!”

from the February 25th trailer.

this is said by i think Freddy? possessed/evil Freddy, and i think it’s directed toward Vanessa! obviously it wouldn’t be Gregory because why would Gregory be taking orders from Freddy? it has to be Vanessa!

so, Vanessa is being told what to do by Freddy, perhaps because Burntrap/William is speaking through Freddy? i wish we could have seen where this went because it’s SO INTERESTING.

“when i first found you, you were nothing. you were small, pathetic. but now, you are more. are you ready?”

from the February 25th trailer.

okay, this one is Burntrap/William, but it’s clearly directed toward Vanny/Vanessa.

“there is more going on here than you realize.”

from the February 25th trailer.

this just straight up confirms that Vanessa is caught up in the chaos of the Pizzaplex. she clearly knows that shit is going on and has a personal connection to it all. almost like she’s under control of the mastermind behind it all…

so, YEAH, Vanessa clearly was meant to play a much bigger role in the game. more than that, she was much more emotional than she is now. and although i like her being all grumpy, i think it would have been fun to have an absolute anxious wreck of a companion.

like, Gregory is being so brave for his age, and then the camera pans slightly to the left to show Vanessa doubled over, having a panic attack.

TLDR: WE WERE FUCKING ROBBED

[seriouslysam8]

Do you think Ginny would sleep in Dean’s bed in canon? How comfortable do you think she was with Dean? At what point do you think Ginny knew Harry had a thing for her in canon? I think the snogging scene Harry and Ron walk into is over exaggerated by fandom and they read too much into it because of Ron’s reaction and Harry’s description of it. I love the cabbage but he tends to be a bit dramatic sometimes lol. I don’t think it was as intense as fandom thinks (it was just two teens snogging) and what we read was Harry’s jealousy describing the scene and he over exaggerated it. I think more than Ron’s words she’s upset over Harry seeing her in that act and the look of disappointment on his face. I think it confirmed for her that he liked her and she was angry it took him so long, frustrated because she still liked him, mad with herself for caring so much about his feelings. I do think Harry’s facial and body language hurt her more than Ron’s words. She also didn’t seem impressed at the way Dean handled it with trying to act all smug, and when she mentioned Harry snogged Cho she was close to tears. I read into that scene as Ginny using Dean to forget about Harry, but the look on his face catching her in the act hurt her more than making her feel better about herself, and her mentioning Harry snogged Cho was a comment directed at Harry to justify her snogging Dean and that’s why she was so emotional. I think that scene was the start of Ginny and Dean’s relationship crumbling.

I don’t think Ginny ever slept in Dean’s bed in canon. Nor do I even think she entertained the idea, no matter how innocent it was. I don’t think she even went to his dorm in canon because, well, Ron and Harry.

I don’t think she was particularly attached or all that comfortable with Dean. I think it was a young and new relationship where they were figuring the other person out. I don’t think Ginny would lay out any of her baggage about the diary to Dean in that time period either.

Harry was there. Harry already knew what happened. Talking to Harry about it would be infinitely easier than talking to anyone else. They lived a portion of it together. She would have an ease with Harry that I don’t think she’d have with anyone else so quickly. So, in Brumous, the two seek comfort in each other in a way I don’t see her doing with Dean or anyone else. Harry just gets it. The experience. The nightmares. The fear and anxiety. She doesn’t have to give details for him to get it either. I think that’s very important for Ginny.

As for when Ginny figured out Harry was pining over her in canon, I don’t know for sure. I would definitely have to reread the book because it’s been awhile since I’ve read it.

[suchislifenomore]

“I’ve been trying for awhile to accurately describe the feeling of loneliness. Each time it feels like I’m missing something. I never come close enough.

It’s a tricky one. It’s not as expressive as sadness is. Doesn’t gut you, slice you open the way grief does. Loneliness works differently. It doesn’t slap you in the face like anger or jealously. It takes time penetrating your life.

You ever have a friend that you didn’t particularly like? You don’t know how you became friends. It seems like they’ve always been around. Not sure why. Not sure the moment they went from stranger to a contact in your phone. Loneliness is like that. Yeah, like an invader that moved so slowly, you didn’t even notice. I guess it just sits there, like some bruise that’s so close to being healed. Sometimes you think it’s gone. If you stay distracted, plugged in, never fully present, you might not feel it at all.

But like a bruise, if you touch it you’ll wince. You’ll be reminded it’s still there.

In my experience, loneliness rarely has to to do with being alone. Sure, that might amplify it, but it’s never the root cause. Loneliness shows up when you forget yourself. It’s present on the nights you feel like a stranger in your own body and you wonder how long you’ve been on autopilot.

On those nights, you’ll ask yourself, “have I always been this lonely?”

When it becomes too much, on the bad nights, you’ll look for immediate distractions. We’re good at that, us humans. We’ve figured out how to be so plugged in all the time. We’ll numb ourselves with food or alcohol or superficial connection. We’ll text someone we shouldn’t. We’ll binge watch shows on Netflix until the screen is forced to ask, “are you still watching?”

On those nights, you’ll hate admitting just how lonely you really are. It feels like a failure of sorts. Because loneliness, unlike sadness or anger, is harder to figure out. Why do we feel this way? How can we fix it? I’m still not sure I know the answers to those questions, but I do know loneliness does not go away if you just ignore it.

It sits. It waits. It stays tucked away for the next bad night. The next night you lower your defences.

Perhaps there is a feeling of unity in our loneliness. That even in our most isolated, in our pangs of pure lonely, we can know that others are feeling that way too. Maybe we should talk more of our loneliness. Maybe that’s how we take it’s power away. We share, we grieve together, we try to understand this feeling.

I wonder how many of us are hurting right now. I wonder how many of us are afraid to let the world know just how lonely these nights can be.

Sometimes I feel like ripping apart my skin and searching for a reason why I feel the way I do.

So empty.

Maybe my veins are tangled, or maybe something is lodged in my rib cage.

Because it feels like something inside of me is missing or broken and I would give all the money in the world to find that missing piece.”

[itsnotresilience]

Sorry Voice of Reason, Predni-monster is Uncaged

Since I have been discharged from the hospital by Dr. Dude, who will definitely get his own super special blog post once I’m filled with hulk level rage, I’ve been mainly in our bedroom with people coming to see me for meals or other random things. This allowed for the majority my emotional outbursts related to medication, life drama, and not feeling well, to be in private.

Friday was the first time I was in the family space, positioned on the chaise of the couch. That day, it was mainly my boss and I, who had come to visit with lunch and watch “What we did on our Holiday”. My Puggles came to visit, who I’d missed since my Father-in-Law has been taking care of them on the basement level of our three level house. It was lovely seeing them but instantly overwhelming so only visited with both of them briefly, deciding to crate the puppy to spend more time with my older Puggle and “nurse dog” Nina.*this also isn’t the post to argue or discuss people’s belief systems when it comes to dog training.* Anyway, my boss is incredibly soft spoken and showed me amazing kindness and care. It was a fairly mellow day. It gave me hope that my plan for being down in the family space Saturday for a friend who was planning to visit for some sci-fi movie watching was going to be ok.

Although my friend was not able to make it, an old friend of ours stopped by to check-in on us. I definitely wasn’t prepared for 4 people besides myself, the dogs and the cat and all the encompassing noise, chaos and decisions that come. I love to have people over to our house and right now, these people offer comfort to me and a chance to give my other caretakers a break to do other things they want to do or also even something else to talk about other than my health situation.

The first almost meltdown happened because the TV was too loud. I hadn’t watched much TV since the hospital because I’ve been struggling with a lot of headaches. I closed my eyes and then thought about putting my headphones on and shutting out the world but then the drama became the headphones were drained and we need to charge them and why can’t fuckers make charge cords the same for shit.

For awhile, it felt like every discussion or decision was difficult. I was still incredibly agitated, trying my best to breathe through almost every conversation. To describe how steroids feel internally, it can range from a constant rage stream to a dammed up extreme (insert societal “bad” labeled) emotion waiting to break through at any moment at any random thing or even a thing that could sadden or madden you normally but you’re gonna be turned to 11, instantly.

I won’t talk about my fabulous family here. They have done amazing and are stretched emotionally and physically. I’ve been reaching out on their behalf to get their own support. I’ll just say I feel bad they have to put up with prednimonster and after yesterday, I’m tempted to hide from everyone.

We will call meltdown one “Pulmicort”. Pulmicort is a steroid inhalant (yay more steroids) that I take twice a day. It’s been out of stock since I got out of the hospital and why the fuck they just can’t give you the scripts out the door when apparently they can get all the things super easy and the rest of us have to pass through an American Ninja Warrior obstacle course to get stuff? Anyway on the pharmacy app I was able to see that I could get it sent to another store so I pressed the little app button and moved on. Fast forward an hour later and all of a sudden it’s showing out of stock at the place I ordered from. I flipped out. Just like that. Told Eric to call. Call them and “figure it the fuck out before I drop dead because I can’t breathe”. I then realized I had an audience- my friend, my husband, my FIL, my stepson. I instantly felt shame so intense I wanted to runaway but collapsed going up the stairs and then crawled to the top and cried it out. I had to have my stepson help me back downstairs because I was dizzy and out of breath and needed to lay down.

The second story to illustrate the point was around trying to plan the best place for me today. And talking about how it was for me to be around everyone versus by myself was really hard. I am a people person. I love people. But right now, I don’t want people seeing me like this. This isn’t me. This is awful. And I am hurting people and apologizing and feeling “tolerated” and “difficult” and “exhausting”. As I told my voice of reason last night, I wish I had a “predni-panic room” or a “it’s not you, I’m on prednisone” or could just lock myself in a dark room until whatever this is is over so I can stop disappointing people and pushing people away.

I feel it coming this mass exodus of love from this unlovable predni-monster. I feel the coming loss of job opportunities or the stagnation of my career forever. I feel the endless hours of work and determination it took to rebuild from my last major illness (over a decade) stacking on my shoulders and pushing me into the ground.

The worst part of of this is these drugs that turn me into the most awful version of myself is that they also aren’t making me any better. Voice of reason - I want to shut myself off from everyone and just give up! People say I’m a bad ass bitch! Everyone says I’m strong! I’m weak right now. I want to give up.

It’s easy to read this and not understand why. This drug touches on the absolute most dangerous parts of my mental illness along with a deep rage that I use to fuel so many things in life that basically is now unleashed on whatever and then I instantly panic about abandonment and feel shame.

The predni-monster is unleashed and is so afraid of destroying everything she adores. She may lock herself back in her upstairs cage.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

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

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

[proserpina-magnus]

yayy you take requests 🥺 I really love your writing it’s one of the best I’ve come across on the internet I swear

was wondering if I can request a poly!marauder where reader is really snappy/irritated before her period and the boys don’t realize why she acts like that cause she’s usually really kind and loving. she may sometimes not even realize she’s being mean/scary?

she could then out of sudden break down crying over something very stupid - maybe because something or someone really annoyed her

and the boys are literally clueless

Hii! I’m so sorry this took so long 😭😭 this has been in my request for awhile but luckily I finished it today! I hope you don’t mind the delay, anyways I hope you enjoy it! Mwah.

P.S: I also included Peter! I hope you don’t mind (since you didn’t specify).

P.S.S: this is also really bad :)

Irritation (poly Marauders)

Reader: female (she/her)

Warning: irritation (described and displayed), swearing, fighting (mention of blood like once), intrusive thoughts, anxiety (displayed in characters, such as biting nails, words, etc), “baby, love, dove,”, mention of sex (not described though), talk of losing appetite and eating, hurt/comfort, comment to add more.

Word count: 3.6k

You woke up irritated, body aching slightly and adjusting to your upcoming period. You pick at your food, tapping your foot angrily as you listen to every chat. A good 1000 students talking was enough to give you a headache... or at least add onto the one you already had. The littlest sounds, like a fork scraping against the plate, sent you into a fit of rage and you snapped at Remus.

"We get it, the book’s good," you say, staring deep into your plate. Remus let his mouth hang open, mid sentence before closing it. The boys gave you a look, James trying to quickly figure out what the problem was. “…uh, something bothering you? No need to snap at Remus,”

“No need to snap at Remus,” you mocked, James eyebrows scrunched as he made a confused expression. Peter, who sat beside you, had his eyes slanted as he tried to figure out what your issue had been. “James wasn’t trying to-“ Peter had started, But you quickly cut him off.

“Peter, why don’t you just mind your business?” You question, you never had been mean to Peter, not as much as you joked around with the others. This banter confused Peter, and he looked away and bit the inside of his cheek.

“Hey now, don’t get bitchy,” Sirius tuned in, James had sucked in a breath as Sirius uttered the phrase. The boys stayed quiet, even Sirius knew he had said something wrong. You dropped your fork to the plate, it clanked loudly. You stood up, grabbed your bag roughly as the chair scraped against the floor from your quick movement.

“_____, love,” Peter began, trying to clear the miscommunication up with what Sirius had said. You waved him off, eyes glaring around at each of them. Remus had begun to shift awkwardly, not liking the tension, while Sirius had tried to stutter out that he didn’t mean it. James was a bit flushed, hating the anger that was now appearing. Peter had lost his appetite.

You pondered what to say, mouth slightly opened to spew out some insult but you felt ridiculous and teared up slightly. The boys just looked at you, not knowing what to say and somehow that made the situation worse.

“Why don’t you just fuck off,” you rushed out, not really knowing who that was directed towards. Before any of them could get a word in, you had walked quickly out of the dining hall.

“Why’d you say that?” Peter was the first to ask, Sirius feeling attacked over his words. “Well she was being bitchy, Peter you need to stop being such a coward and stick up for us once in awhile,”

“Pads,” James called, Peter rolling his eyes. Sirius snapped his head around, looking at each of them. “Well I’m right! She was making Moony feel bad,”

“She wasn’t making me feel bad,” Remus sighed, and Sirius shook his head and began to get a bit angry. “Yes she was, she had no right to start acting the way,”

“I don’t think we need to focus on what she said, we need to know why she acted that way,” James said, rubbing a hand over his chest. “Did she fail a test or something? Did she mention anything that was bothering her?” He pondered to them.

Everyone shook their heads, they all were confused on why you had acted that way. They had completely forgotten about your period. You never acted so vile on your period, you usually just acted the same. Yet they forgot to realise that not every period was going to be the same and emotions were heightened.

“Maybe Snape said something,” Peter thought, and Remus nodded his head. “True, I did hear that they got partnered for a project in herbology,” Remus said, and all of the boys sorta grumbled at the thought of you working with Snape.

“Yeah if I was partnered with him I’d be bitchy,” Sirius said, nodding his head like he understood now. James hit Sirius on the back hard, and Sirius shot him a look. “Stop referring to her as a bitch,” James said, upset. He never liked the degrading words used against you, there were much better words to phrase your reaction.

“Alright alright,” Sirius said in surrender, feeling guilty now for upsetting you further. Remus stayed quiet, he wasn’t upset about you snapping at him, he was upset at the fact that you felt the need to snap at him.

Peter felt wiry, he didn’t like when you were upset. He always felt like he was to blame, especially since you were always so loving. He decided to go check on you, not liking the tears he had seen in your eyes.

“Where are you going?” Remus asked, he knew exactly what Peter was intending to do but he just wanted confirmation. Sirius and James were deep in conversation, planning on pranking Snape to make you feel better (they had confirmed the issue was Snape, before even asking you what was truly wrong).

“I’m gonna go check on her,” Peter said, cleaning his plate as much as he could as he stacked the dirty dishes together. “I’ll come with,” Remus said, sitting up and Peter took Remus's plate and stacked it with his. “We’re going to go check on her,”

Sirius piped up, standing up before Remus sat him back down with a hand to his shoulder. “Not you, not yet,” Remus told him, and Sirius pouted.

Remus and Peter walked out of the dining hall, and Sirius and James conversed about the prank.

“I don’t think it’s Snape,” Peter said, and Remus nodded. “No, me neither,”

“I just can't figure out what it could be,'' Peter sighed, looking down halls and out windows to see if he could spot you. Remus nodded, sighing as well.

They stayed quiet for a bit, Peter more hyper fixed on finding you (Remus felt the same, but was much better at hiding his worry). Peter stopped, looking over at Remus. “You know she didn’t mean it,” Peter told him and Remus nodded.

“I know, I’m not mad at her,” Remus spoke, and Peter nodded like Remus had. “And you know she didn’t mean to snap at you, it’s not your fault she’s irritated,” Remus said, knowing Peter's thoughts.

Peter nodded, though half doubted it as they continued on their look for you.

—

Peter and Remus hadn’t found you, they had arrived late to transfiguration, Professor McGonagall gave them an eye and told them to sit.

“Where is she?” Sirius asked, James listening in as he leaned closer to where Remus and Peter sat in front of them. Next to James, was an empty seat. Sirius sat opposite of the empty seat.

“Couldn’t find her,” Remus said, James grew worried.

“We will look at the map later,” he said, reassuring the group but it was more for reassuring himself. They all nodded, trying to focus on class, yet they kept wondering about the thought of you.

“No I’m worried,” Sirius said after a while, Remus looked behind them as Peter bit at his nails. “Pads it’s alright; she’s fine,” James stated, but Sirius doubted him.

“You don’t know that, what if what I said made her upset!” He whispered, and Remus turned back around and let James handle Sirius.

“She’s not like that, she was clearly irritated before you talked with her, she’s probably just having a bad day,” James tried to make up any safe possible scenario, he didn’t want to think about dreadful things.

“But-“ Sirius said, and Peter whipped around. “Just shut up Sirius, alright? We will find her after class,” he grew irritated and Sirius grumbled and stayed quiet.

—

They had found you quickly with the help of their invention, but you had put up a wall and just shrugged them off.

“Baby, listen if it’s about what I said this morning,” Sirius began, but you continued to look down at your open book. The library was quiet before, and students listened in to hear the drama of the group.

“Can you just go away? I can't read when you’re talking to me,” you said, mouth in a frown. Remus was the first to realize you really did just want space and he decided it was best to let you get over your irritation, but convincing the rest of the boys was the hardest part.

“She just wants to read guys, come on,” Remus said, grabbing Sirius arm to pull him away from hovering over you (which Peter had noticed was pissing you off). James stayed in place, so did Peter.

“She can’t skip class Remus,” James said seriously, looking down at you as you continued to stare at your book, not sparing a glance at them.

“_____,” James warned, reaching out to hold your shoulder gently and you twitched and removed his hand from your shoulder. “You can't skip class love,”

“Fuck off, you never give Peter or Sirius any shit for skipping,” you scoffed, and James began to get a bit irritated with your rude behaviour.

“Yes I do-“ James was quick to defend himself, and you rolled your eyes.

“Can you seriously fuck off? Like what do you not get about me wanting to be alone? That doesn’t mean I want you around,” you snapped at him, turning around and glaring. “All of you need to fuck off,”

They stayed quiet, looking at you again such as how they did this morning. James stepped back, “alright,” he said, walking out of the library as Sirius followed behind with a grumble.

“We will see you at lunch?” Remus asked and you just ignored him. He decided to follow behind Sirius and James.

Peter stayed, weight going between each foot as he swayed back and forth. You looked over at him, an eyebrow raised as you waited for him to leave, he didn’t.

“I want you to leave,” you said, staring at him like he was incompetent. Peter shrunk slightly against your harsh gaze. “I know what you want,” Peter said, “but don’t you care what I want? What we want?”

“I don’t owe you sex,” you scoffed, misinterpreting what he meant. Peter shook his head, “No, you don’t. that’s not what I meant,”

“What could you possibly mean then?” You asked, huffing. Peter sat down beside you and you slid your chair away. Didn't you get that they were worried?

“What’s wrong,” he asked, “how can I make it better?” He felt completely hopeless. You just shrugged, the wall you had blocked them with slowly falling a bit. But then you remembered that they didn’t even know why you were upset, how could they even forget you had a period? The fury built back up again, all they cared about was themselves. It was always Remus's monthly, never yours.

“You can make it better by fucking going away,” you swore, and Peter did just that.

—

Two days went by, without much effort to talk to the boys. They all tried their hardest to catch your attention and make you feel better, yet their proposals were quickly dismissed.

James had got you many gifts, him and Sirius even snuck into Hogsmeade to get you sweets from honey dukes. You took the sweets, but dismissed them entirely.

Remus tried to talk to you about the books you had been reading, but you told him you weren’t interested in talking with him and left.

Sirius got frustrated pretty easily with not being able to hold hands with you and locked you in the broom closet with him. James had found him an hour later, knocked out.

Peter followed you around, you found many flowers left in your dorm. You had received about 10 letters from him, each every morning, before your first class, during lunch, at dinner, and before you went to bed. You had read them, cuddling with your blankets.

On the third day, you wanted attention and affection. Cramps had made you emotional, you just wanted some attention from your boys. But when you had sat by them at the table, hand going to hold Sirius’s, he had pulled it away from you. You frowned, trying again but he pulled it away. You knew something was wrong, even this morning you haven't received a good morning letter from Peter.

“So what, you think you can just come hang out with us and think nothings wrong?” James asked you, they had all grown irritated with your behaviour. You yourself hadn’t really noticed the way you had been treating them.

“What do you mean?” You asked confused, looking between each of them as they laughed. You felt hurt, knowing they were making fun of you. You tried to hold Peter's hand but he was too quick and pulled it away before you could even touch him.

“You wanted to be left alone,” he reminded you. Remus nodded his head, “you even ignored all of our gifts,” James said, and Sirius laughed and made a joke.

“I didn’t want gifts,” you told them, “when have I ever asked for gifts?” You continued, and they became quiet. Had you been rude to them?

You began to think over the last few days, some things you had done were questionable but it was justified. Couldn’t they see you were emotional?

Did they even care? Of course with these thoughts, your brain forgot to realize all the attempts they made, all the worrying they felt, all the times they talked in private and grew concerned for your well-being.

“You kept snapping at us, you can’t just be rude to us for no reason and then expect us to be okay with it, you don’t get cuddles _____,” James told you firmly, but you tilted your head, you began to get angry again.

“So when I don’t ask for something you give it to me, but when I want to hold your fucking hand that's not allowed? Do you even care what I want?” You asked, you realised how unreasonable some of what you were saying was. You had remembered what Peter had said in the library and you grew quiet.

“Nevermind,” you snapped quickly just as they were about to argue with you. You got up, saddened that you couldn’t get the affection you wanted. You left, heading to herbology.

—

The first class, along with the banter from this morning, ruined your whole day. You had to work with Snape, already in a bad mood.

He had been pretty quiet, so had you, only talking to each other about the project and what was necessary. It was all going fine until the end of the class, when he had said something that made you feel terrible.

“You and the Marauders hadn’t been hanging out recently, I guess they came to their senses that you weren’t really worth it,” he began, who knew why he had said it, but it was enough to trigger some deeper emotional rage. You screamed at him in the hallway, completely losing it at him. At some point, both your wands had been drawn and just before something bloody happened, the professor had stopped it. You had been given detention and since you had been the one that had started the duel, Snape got off scot free.

The Marauders had heard about what happened and what made it worse is that they didn’t try to find you. You passed by James and Sirius in the hall, hoping to talk to them and get all of the anger out about what Snape had said. But they just said a simple “we don’t really want to talk to you right now,”

You watched them walk down the hall, they hadn’t wanted to know if you were okay? They were always curious about any drama revolving around Snape.

You had cried in the bathroom, moaning myrtle was the only one who cared enough to ask you what was wrong. You felt pathetic relying your emotions on a ghost that lives in the bathroom, but it was somehow comforting listening to her weep along with you.

Maybe Snape was right, maybe they did come to their senses.

—

After detention, you passed by the Gryffindor portrait. You had debated for several minutes if you wanted to go see them and finally the fat lady decided to just let you in and told you a “Stop weeping outside my door, I have a date soon and you’re going to ruin it, go in go in,”

You had climbed up the steps, you were going to leave once you reached their door, but it was already open with James waiting for you.

“We saw you on the map,” he said once he noticed you were confused. “Oh,” you said, you looked completely drained and James showed a soft remorse that made you crumple.

“Shh it’s okay,” he comforted, bringing you close as you shakily sighed into his chest. Your arms came to wrap around him, lips trembling as you started to cry. “Let’s get out of the hallway,” James told you, leading you into their dorm as he closed the door for privacy. Your face still buried in his chest, weeping uncontrollably as Sirius sat up from his lying position at the sound.

Peter and Remus piped up as well, as Sirius walked over and took you in his arms. He glared at James, thinking he did something.

“What’s wrong baby?” Sirius whispered gently, guiding you over to the bed as he sat you down on James bed. “It hurts,” you say, not giving much context as they all look at you confused, high in alert and they felt guilty for ignoring you in this state.

“What hurts?” Remus asked, Peter and him had come to stand close as James sat down on the other side of you. James pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, “she doesn’t feel warm,” he told them.

“Love what hurts?” Peter repeated, you sniffled and tried to calm down enough to tell them what was wrong. “My period,” you choked, you thought they had realised by now. The boys became aware quickly that that’s what had been making you upset the past few days.

“You’re periods don’t usually make you this emotional,” James questioned and you scoffed but they decided to let it slide.

“They aren’t always the same,” you told them, wiping your eyes as your uterus twisted again. You let out another sob, you didn’t want to go through this alone.

“I’m sorry dove, we should’ve realised sooner,” Remus said, crouching down as he took you in his arms. You curled yourself into him, he picked you up and switched so he was the one sitting down.

“Snape said something,” you sniffled, face resting in Remus's neck as your nose brushed up against his neck. They all became a bit angry, not liking the sound of that.

“What did he say?” James asked, rubbing your back. You took a moment to try and phrase it, it felt embarrassing to admit that his words had worried you. “He said… that the reason you guys were ignoring me was because you came to your senses,”

“Senses to what?” Peter asked, they all had been confused. “That you didn’t like me anymore,” you whimpered the words, tears welling up again. Their hearts stopped for a second, squeezing so tight they all thought they would pass out. James was angry with himself and Snape. James and Sirius felt horrible for ignoring you right after what Snape had said, they didn’t want to prove his statement.

“That fucking bastard,” Sirius fumed, standing up but peter pushed him back down. “She needs us, going off and throwing a few punches won’t do any good,” he whispered and Sirius looked over at James, but James only agreed with Peter. “Not right now,” he mouthed before they pulled their attention back to you.

“We’re so sorry,” Remus coo’s, rocking you gently as you cry into his neck. They all feel pity and a sense of guilt. “So sorry,” you tell them, feeling horrible for snapping.

“You don’t have to apologise,” James assures, rubbing your hair as he pulls it away from your soaked face. “we didn’t know, that’s on us,”

“I didn’t tell you,” you cried, “I was so mean to you, I didn’t mean it. Snape is right,” Sirius fumes at your thoughts.

“Don’t fucking say that bastard is right, he’s a-“ remus shoots Sirius a dangerous look, telling him to shut up before he upsets you more.

“We shouldn’t have just assumed every period is going to be the same, that's on us love,” James said, kissing your temple. “It ain’t right we care for Remus on his monthly and then ignore yours,” James said and Remus shot him to look like he had Sirius.

“It’s okay,” you say, calming down as you rub your face. “It’s not,” Sirius said, kissing your shoulder. Peter cleans up your face, rubbing gently with a warm cloth.

Without saying a word, they had concluded to spoil you. James had filled a heating pad with hot water, Sirius went down to get a potion to soothe your pain, Remus was helping you into a comfy jumper and pyjamas as Peter was getting the junk food.

After everyone got back and situated, you had found yourself between Remus and James, a black dog cuddled between your legs; it’s head over your lap, while a rat was curled under your chin. A heating pad rested on your stomach, junk food around the bed. You sigh happily, resting your head on James' chest while one hand is running through a thick fur coat, your other hand occupied with Remus's. You felt comfortable, all fights dismissed and forgiven, before you fell asleep, James had whispered “you deserve us, we aren’t going anywhere, not even when it gets rough,”.

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[likeastarstar]

The Pianist

(A/N: Thanks to @xjoonchildx and the anon who recommended me to her for this prompt! The pieces mentioned in this fic are what I listened to while writing it, they're beautiful and I recommend them. Feedback is appreciated!)

masterlist.

You didn’t sleep very well most nights.

You didn’t really understand how people just laid down and fell asleep instantly, it just didn’t happen for you. You had tried everything but ASMR creeped you out, Melatonin didn’t work, chamomile tea just made you have to get up to pee a million times. Nothing worked for years- until the apartment above yours got a new tenant.

You weren’t sure when exactly they moved in but you were certain of the day they got a piano.

January 12, 2021: The day you were given the gift of sleep.

At this point, it was apart of your routine. Every night, after showering and brushing your teeth, you’d lay down and listen to soft melodies you couldn’t quite place pouring through your walls.

Now, you found yourself rushing back home in the evening just in case they decided to start playing early.

“Hold the elevator, please!” You called, rushing over to the closing doors.

A hand stuck out to block them from shutting at the last minute and you gave a sigh of relief- you’d be on time now. You rushed into the elevator with a pleased smile on your face, your eyes falling on a man who you could only describe as the most interesting person you had ever seen. Dressed in all black with thick rings around the hand that had stopped the elevator, he should’ve been intimidating. If it wasn’t for the soft slope of his nose and pink doll-like lips, you would’ve turned the other way in fear.

“Oh-“ You said awkwardly, staring at him with wide eyes for some reason. He looked at you awkwardly and smile slightly, pulling his lips into a thine line. His dark eyes blinked slowly, molten mocha peering down at you with mild interest. “Thank you- for the elevator.”

“No problem, you seem like you’re in a hurry.” He said politely, his quiet, deep voice rumbling in your ear comfortably. You found yourself leaning towards him and snapped yourself out of it, pressing your floor’s button quickly.

As beautiful as he was, you got distracted from the man quickly, refocusing on trying to guess what the pianist would choose to play tonight. You left the window cracked just to hear more of the classical sonatas, timing your breathing just right to the pacing of the tunes. As time passed, you grew accustomed to the presence of the music, reading the pianist’s mood by their choice of song.

Reverie, for calm evenings in the summer when your apartment was bathed in golden light, warming your skin. A jazzy rendition of Manhattan when you assumed the pianist had an absolutely wonderful day, sending you off to dream of fluffy clouds and creamy skies. Nocturne No. 1, when they were troubled and you physically had to stop yourself from crying upon hearing the emptiness in the notes that flooded into your ears.

As luck would have it, you stumbled across the man in the elevator again too, crossing paths in the mail room, where he held the door open as you lugged out copious amounts of packages from online shopping. You would’ve tried to strike up a conversation, only it was already dusk and the pianist would start practicing soon.

“You’re always rushing, aren’t you?” He quipped, an endearing smile on his face. You admired the way his cheeks fluffed up a little when he smiled.

“I have plans with a friend,” You excused, naming the pianist as a fond companion. You didn’t want to reveal what you were really rushing for. The pianist felt like your own little secret, a world you could immerse yourself in when real life got too overwhelming.

If only you had known you’d soon lose the one consistent relief of tension in your life. You assumed things in his life had gone south, because after a week of music that tore your soul apart- the music stopped. Gone were your nights of angelic tunes, gone were your nights of sleep.

You waited for him, laid in bed with an antsy heart waiting to hear something, an aggravated smash of keys, a simple chord, even a single note would set you at ease. It had been a week since you had a good night of sleep, your companion suddenly stripped away.

You trudged into the elevator one morning sleepily, barely registering a familiar man standing beside you. Your hands met as both of you rushed to press the ‘close door’ button, the button shocking both of you at once. You jumped in surprise, flickering your eyes towards him sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” He mumbled. It wasn’t until then that you took in his appearance, slightly disheveled with his hair fluffy and messy. It was bleached now, faded with the roots grown out too far.

The pair of you rode the elevator down in a comfortable silence, filtering out together without a passing glance. You walked in different directions, both consumed in your own thoughts. You figured the pianist would be back by now. When nothing came, you decided to do take action, composing your own masterpiece. You tacked the letter you painstakingly rewrote a million times, setting for a simple note of flattery that you hoped would entice whoever it was playing the piano to return the gift you had cherished back to you. You expected nothing, maybe music returning back. Instead, you were greeted two days later with a simple knock at your door.

You answered quickly, shuffling your feet towards the entrance of your apartment. You opened the door to a familiar face, the man from the elevator. This time, his hair was freshly dyed, denim blue with one side sleeked back. His eyes were bright, alert as he looked at you with a surprised expression. You skimmed the length of his body, noting the tailored pants and soft looking sweater, stopping suddenly on a familiar piece of paper between long fingers adorned with rings.

Your note.

“You’re the pianist,” You realized, staring at the note. The paper of the note was faded, fraying at the ends and softened at the creases. It had clearly been folded and unfolded a million times, pulling at your heart.

“You fall asleep to me playing?” He asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I have trouble sleeping- you, your music helps.” You said lamely. “I’ve missed it….I thought, I mean, I noticed that you were playing more sad pieces than normal and then you stopped playing altogether. I figured something was wrong- Are you okay?”

He tapped his foot on the ground and shifted his weight, looking down at the ground awkwardly, “I was going to stop playing. I just…I didn’t see the value anymore.”

You felt panic sweep over your body and widened your eyes, leaning towards him instinctively, “Your music feels like a friend. It’s so beautiful and calming, it’s the only thing I have to look forward to some days. It- It has value. A lot of value, to me.”

He looked up at you and smiled, eyes crinkling slightly, “That makes me feel better- I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”

You smiled back at him, tilting your head slightly.

The music came back after that, new songs playing every evening. You spent the mornings tracking down all of the songs he played the night before, listening to them while you went about your day, melting away time until you could listen to Yoongi practice again. You saw Yoongi a couple times in the elevator, exchanging shy smiles and excited suggestions of what you think he should learn next.

It wasn’t until you awoke one morning to the soft musings of a piano that you realized- you loved Min Yoongi. You recognized the song playing instantly- Dawn from Pride and Prejudice. You had suggested it awhile ago and how romantic you thought the piece was. It had been a slip of the tongue you thought he had forgot about it by now, since he hadn't played it. You remembered the small smile he gave you, nodding slightly when you blushed furiously at even the mention of romance. But now, listening to the music you knew he played for you, you were glad you had said it. It was fitting for the hour, the sunrise pouring cool colored light through your windows, a soft breeze filling your room because you had never gotten out of the habit of cracking your window to hear Yoongi play.

You smiled, laying in bed for a moment and soaking in the light keys. Eventually, you got up and walked to make yourself a cup of tea, stopping when you saw a piece of paper that had been slipped through the bottom of your door.

You picked it up quickly, opening it at once.

Would you like to have dinner with me? - Your Pianist.

[escape-music1432]

Peter Venkman x Chubby!Reader

I apologize if this is kinda trash, I thought of the ghostbusters 2019 game. You know… where Peter’s like, “I like her personality and you guys can’t let it go.”

Tbh the readers female that’s all I’m basing that off of, idk it’s kinda angsty but at this point it’s just self doubt, fear of being played and having abandonment issues. I really suck at angsty stuff and I’m tryna work on that but idk. I’ve been waiting for more people to write for Venkman and it hasn’t happened in awhile so ima just leave this here. Sorry if it sucks, there will be a pt 2 because idk I just feel a pt 2 is needed.

~

You sighed, leaning back further into the booth. There was a small ping of pain in your chest as you watched the commercial on the small television, a familiar face appearing on screen. There was a moment you locked eyes with him, even if it was a screen it still made your heart flutter. You couldn't take looking into those eyes anymore, it hurt looking at those lips that you wished you could have kissed at least once.

You turned your head away, taking a deep breathe in to keep your emotions in check while you twiddled your thumbs impatiently. The long sleeve shirt you wore covered your palms and allowed you to gently twist the fabric between your plump fingers as you tried to drown out his voice on the television. It soothed your nerves a bit, but it resurfaced the same feelings once again. The cloud outside loomed overhead, appearing to be the reconstruction of your clouded mind.

There was nothing to describe how you felt maybe a void, like something was missing. He was missing, and no matter how hard you tried he always somehow brought you back in. You were so caught up in your thoughts you barely noticed the figure looming over you as you finally let the fabric of your sweater go and spring back into its position. Just then a small tray holding four cups of coffee was placed on your table,

"What's a beautiful lady doing sitting all alone?" You jumped, turning your attention to the familiar voice.

All the effort you put into drowning out his voice on T.V. was for nothing, of course he just had to show up out of nowhere. That's just like him to waltz's right up to start a conversation like nothing happened. To act like he hadn't just ditched you after going on a few dates together, no calls, no morning coffee runs just leaving without a trace.

"Oh, if it isn't Peter Venkman. What do I owe the pleasure?" Your voice was filled with sarcasm, you weren't going to give in. Not again.

The light brown haired man looked shocked, and just as quickly he bounced back. He had that annoyingly attractive smirk, raising his hands up in defense. "Woah, no need to show your claws Kitten. Just here getting coffee for the guys."

You tried your best to keep up your act, trying to pretend to not care. "This isn't the usual place. Are you sure your not stalking me?"

"Now what makes you think that?" He gave you a sly smirk, looking into your eyes winking playfully at you.

Oh no... that wink and with those baby blue eyes you swore you'd end up falling for his shenanigans all over again. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't stop your body from shifting slightly in your seat, as your cheeks began to burn and your stomach twisted.

Just before you could speak you felt the table slightly shift, you looked up as a fairly thin lady gently placing a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. Peter quickly turned his attention her, giving her a warm smile as he thanked her. You could tell he was being flirty, and it hurt to watch him wink as she giggled and went back to work. Instead of leaving he sat down in front of you, lazily cradling his chin in his palm. He watched as you took a sip of the hot chocolate. You tried your best not to make eye contact as you looked into the whip cream and chocolate shavings, you could feel them gently brush against your upper lip.

"You are just gorgeous, has anyone ever told you that?" Peter spoke so suddenly it made you jump, nearly spilling the chocolate all over yourself.

You cleared your throat, licking the cream from your plump lips as you looked at him. The whole situation was odd but you knew you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss this. You could feel your chubby cheeks burn and your stomach flip, god you couldn't get enough of this man.

Instead of giving him a reaction you turned your head to the side letting out an annoyed hum, instead of leaving you like you thought, he chuckled. Your attention was brought back to him, the slight head tilt and passionately eyes felt so familiar as he stood up. The feeling of your heart beating began to thump against your ears as you watched him lean forward, his finger tips coming in contact with your plush cheek as his thumb brushed gently against your lips. You pulled away, immediately wiping your lips and hiding your blushing cheeks. "What are you doing?"

You could feel your hands tremble as you watched him sit back down, a noticeable white fluffy substance on his thumb. "You had a little something on your lips, Sweetheart."

You could feel your lips tremble as he licked the cream from off his thumb, his eyes meeting yours as he winked at your dumbfounded expression. It was so hard to resist jumping over that table but you knew his game. "That's very unsanitary."

There was a moment he looked disappointed but he hummed, going back to leaning against his palm as he looked at you. You tried to think of an excuse but it was hard when all you wanted to do was have your hot chocolate in peace, it was one of the few distractions you had.

"So, how are the guys and Janine? Heard you got with Dana,"  You turned your attention back toward the busy street outside, watching the cars pass by and as well as a few people walking by. The adrenaline began to course through your body as you watched your reflection, knowing well enough you were going to break down if you looked at him. 

"Well, the guys are doing great. We haven't gotten a lot of calls, but it's still pretty busy. And Dana..." For once Venkman sounded genuine, like he didn't have the heart to talk about her in front of you.

"I don't wanna know, just kinda stated the obvious." The amount of will power it took for you to keep yourself from crying was harder than keeping your eyes off of him.

Yet you still couldn't bring yourself to look at him. You took a sip of your hot chocolate noticing it was nearly gone, which meant you didn't have to bare this any longer. Peter didn't say anything, and when the table moved you assumed he had gotten up and left. So without thinking you took the last swig of your hot chocolate and turned your head back to get out of the booth, but once you turned you were face to face with Peter. You felt your adrenaline sky rocket, leaning back until you were up against the glass.

"I thought you-you left." You tried your best to keep your voice from raising an octave, and that was hard went you could feel a lump beginning to grow in your throat.

Peter didn't say a word, only staring at you with an unreadable expression. And his baby blues were going to make you cry if you stared into them any longer, but you couldn't turn your head away now. His hand came up to cup your cheek, you tried your best to keep your eyes off of him. It may have been more than a handful of months when you both dated. But you never kissed, or had sex but you knew Venkman very much wanted to do those things with you. It was surprising how long you both lasted... maybe he got it from someone else.

"Come on Kitten, don't do this to me." His voice was low and loving it was obvious he was trying to be genuine but you knew better than to give in.

He was so intoxicating, his gentle kisses against your neck were something you remembered vividly. He'd playfully run his hand along your stomach and get so deathly close to your breast and the heat between your legs, but he'd stop when you gently placed a hand against his. He knew you were trying to take things slow so he'd settle with cuddling on the couch after a busy day or morning kisses against his cheek. He never seemed to mind, if you remembered correctly, but god did he really make it hard to hold back during those moments.

"Do what? You're the one holding me hostage." Your tried your best to keep your voice steady, then you made the horrible mistake of looking at him. You could see a smirk grace his lips as he shook his head. "You can get out if you want Princess, it's all up to you."

He leaned in, running his left hand along your cheek and slowly down your neck until his hand was hovering over your breast. You could see him bite his bottom lip, then you felt your heart sink as his lips came in contact with your own. He had settled with placing his hand against your hips, gently gripping the flesh there as he pulled you in. His lips were so warm and welcoming but you couldn't bring yourself to kiss him back. All you could see was him cheating on Dana and that made you feel so horrible.

You instantly pushed him away, he caught himself from falling off the seat but once he noticed your expression he had lost his balance and fell onto his back. His expression was genuine surprise. The moment your hands came in contact with his chest was the moment you broke, all the walls of confidence had suddenly dropped.

You loved him so much it hurt, it hurt to be treated like this when you knew he had a girlfriend. How could he do this to her, and to you? You knew very well you were a damn queen and didn't deserve to be treated like this, not like a piece of recycled plastic that he can just use when he felt like it. Everything you thought you did for yourself was just to get him to notice you again, and it hurt to know that all you did was for him. He didn't even care, all he wanted was to get in your pants just like before.

"Don't do that. Don't do this to me again." You hadn't even noticed you were crying until you felt your face begin to itch from all the tears that were ruining your makeup.

Peter looked speechless watching as you began to wipe your tears, he seemed to stutter over his words which was so unlike him. You didn't bother waiting as you hurriedly got out of your seat and out of the cafe door, even if you had left your coat inside you hardly noticed the crisp chill air as you sped walked down the street. The arms you placed around your body felt so horrible, for some reason your were completely aware of how fat you were.

God you hated that word, fat. Venkman would call you his Plump Princess when you were alone, and it made you feel so happy to be your body type.

You nearly screamed, trying your best to get him out of your head. It was so hard to keep him out, it usually kept you going during the day. Now after that, it felt so wrong to be in love with him, to miss him, to yearn for him. You felt your voice crack as you sobbed into your hands, your hair coming down to cover your eyes as you moved between crowds of people. Your chest was hurting with each step you took, sinking over the feeling of his lips against your own. And no matter how hard you tried you still wish you had kissed him back, you wish you could have pulled him closer to show him just how much you loved and missed him. You doubt you'd get a chance like that again, and that hurt more knowing the moment you see him again you'd run for the hills.

[peachhcs]

Love Languages

Pairings Luke Patterson x reader

Summary Luke asks the reader what love languages are. 

Warnings none but fluff :)

Word Count 1.8k (short I know but I'm working on it)

I haven’t really written on Tumblr before so don’t judge too harshly because there’s some insanely talented people on here who might judge hahaha. (hopefully not though) I don't know what the boy’s love languages are so I kind of just assumed based off of what we saw but I did see somewhere that someone said Luke’s was touch so I just went with it. 

Gif is not mine so credit to the owner! I don’t know if anyone has done this idea before but I kind of like it because it popped into my head last night. Anyways, enjoy!! :) p.s. I sort of left this on a cliff hanger but idk if i’m going to continue it or not hahaha

PART 2

* * *

You were seated peacefully on the couch as you worked away on your laptop while listening to Julie and the guys practice a few songs for this weekend’s upcoming gig. You always loved listening to them practice, they sounded like absolute angels and you would never get tired of listening to them. However, Luke thought you should be doing your homework somewhere else because he didn’t want them to be distracting to you but truthfully, you really didn’t mind. If you were being honest, it actually helped you focus and the music didn’t let your brain wander. 

You glanced up at the group after realizing they had stopped playing. Julie met your eyes with a warm smile, already reading your mind,

“We’re just taking a break. I got to catch up on some homework.” Julie explained to her best friend. You nodded in response, smiling slightly as she went back to work. The boys were talking amongst themselves over by the piano, using hushed voices so whatever they were talking about you or Julie couldn’t hear. 

By some weird magical notion, you were able to see the boys even when they weren’t playing like Julie could. They haven’t been able to figure out why yet, though. Why you could see the guys but their other best friend, Flynn, couldn’t. Or why Luke’s parents couldn’t see him either but you still could. It was all just one big mystery they were all still unravelling. They had a theory that it had something to do with their unfinished business and the connections they all shared with one another, but that was yet to be explored with you and the boys. Julie and the boys sort of figured out how they were connected, but they hadn’t gotten that far with you yet. 

Julie made an attempt one time to suggest that maybe it was because you were so close with Luke ever since you guys met, the connection just helped you see all of them, but you chose to deny that theory. Especially when Julie threw the word feelings into the mix. Julie knew all too well about your “little”crush on the lead guitarist. There was no doubt that she caught on to it right away when the pair first met and hit off right away. From there, she proceeded to question you about it once they went back to her room. Of course you denied, denied, denied, but after awhile you finally gave in and agreed to your best friend’s observation. Julie saw all the looks that you two exchanged and she knew very well about the boys talking about you here and there. It was just a matter of time until one of you finally broke and admitted your stupid feelings for one another.

“Hey..Y/n?” The cautious voice made you glance up from your computer, first looking at Julie thinking it was her who called your name but then turning your head to the boys who were glancing at you with quizzical looks. 

“Yeah?” You ask glancing at Luke since he was the one who spoke up. You watch as the boys exchange a glance with one another and you push your eyebrow up in confusion. You meet eyes with Julie for a moment who was now looking between the boys and you just as confused as you were. 

“We have a question.” 

“Well, Luke does, but we’re curious too.” Alex cut in before you could respond. You chuckle slightly at their visible nervousness about what they wanted to ask. 

“Okay, shoot.” You gave them your full attention, pushing your computer screen down and a small smile sat content on your lips. Julie also gave them her full attention too, because she was equally as curious as to what they could possibly be asking you.

“What..what does love languages mean? We heard you and Julie talking about it yesterday..” Luke’s asks softly. Oh. That was what they were asking..Your face goes a little red at the thought of them hearing your conversation yesterday since it started out as band schedule and then led into your crush per usual. You glanced to Julie for help who only shook her head with a quick shrug.

“They asked you, not me. Take it away, sister.” Julie laughed and your face went even redder. It wasn’t an inappropriate question or anything, you just didn’t really know how to describe it. Or because it meant talking about feelings and relationships which was something you didn't really want to get into with them, especially Luke. 

“Uhh.. well.. I guess it’s a certain way somebody likes to express their love for someone. There’s different types of love languages like um, touch, words, gifts, spending time with that person, and doing nice things I guess..” You trail off slightly while scratching the back of your head, feeling a little flustered. 

“What do you think my love language is?” Alex asks excitedly, not really to you but just to anyone who would answer him. 

“I see yours being affirming words or something like spending time with them. You always love it when someone compliments you and reassures you if you’re having too much anxiety about something.” Julie cuts in with a smile and Alex points to her to say she was correct. Julie chuckles and you do too. 

“Reggie, yours would definitely be gifts or like spending time with people. You always like to hang around Ray and stuff.” You say glancing at Reggie who smiles warmly at your statement. 

“What about me?” You met eyes with Luke who was softly looking at you. You avoided Julie’s burning gaze into your head and Alex and Reggie’s small smirks as they waited for you to answer. You flushed again, looking to Julie for help who only shrugged. They both knew you knew the answer, that was what you guys had been talking about yesterday. 

“I’m..I’m not really sure..” You lied and you hated the small hint of disappointment in Luke’s eyes. You quickly looked away and started to reopen your laptop.

“Hey, I’m hungry, I’m gonna grab some snacks. Y/n do you wanna come with?” Julie asks making an escape for you to avoid the now awkward tension in the room.

“Yeah. Yeah.” You were quickly nodding your head and jumping up from your laptop. You didn’t even wait for Julie as you made a beeline for the garage doors and pushed them open, hurrying up the pathway to Julie’s house. 

Julie exchanged a knowing glance with the boys, reading Alex and Reggie’s glances before following after you saying you’d be back in a minute. You were pacing around on the patio when Julie finally got to you. She raised her eyebrows slightly trying to read your thoughts. 

“Y/n, why did you lie? That could have been the perfect opportunity to tell him how you feel.” Julie says and you shoot her a small glare. 

“Julie, he doesn’t like me like that. I just didn't want to embarrass myself but I guess I embarrassed myself even more by saying nothing.” You admit, slowing your pacing to look Julie in the eye. She lets out a small laugh.

“I don’t think you embarrassed yourself. You were just flustered which is understandable, but I say go for it. You never know what can happen. The Y/n I know doesn’t back down from a challenge either.” Julie puts a comforting arm on your shoulder and you were thankful for it. You squeeze her hand in response.

“Thanks. I don’t know, I guess I’ve just never felt this way about someone before..” You trail off and Julie squeezes your shoulder even tighter,

“Look, I get it, it’s scary, but you can do it. Think of this as me encouraging you to talk to him like you did for me and Nick. Just go for it. Have some confidence.” Julie winked at you and you chuckle at her actions. 

“There’s the Y/n I know. Now come on, we still need to get snacks. I gotta make my lie somewhat believable.” Julie nudged your side before making her way inside as you followed after he with a laugh. 

The two of you walk back into the garage a few moments later where the boys met your glances. Luke was now moved onto your spot on the couch while Alex and Reggie hung around by the piano still. You rolled your eyes that Luke took your spot but at least he was gracious enough to move your computer. You walked over to him where he smirked as you made an attempt to move him out of the way. 

“Get out of my spot.” You tease trying to move Luke out of the way again but he didn’t budge and instead kept holding that smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes so you instead took a seat beside him and grabbed your laptop from the coffee table. 

“I’ll move if you tell me what you think my love language is.” Luke says and you quickly met his eyes. You glanced at Alex, Reggie, and Julie for a moment where they only shrugged. You huffed under her breath knowing you had no way out of this now. 

“I don’t know.” You say simply trying to get off of the topic but Luke kept pushing. He leaned in closer towards you and you could feel his breath on your neck. 

“I think you do..” Luke says and you meet his gaze again. You purse your lips together before glancing back at your computer for a moment. 

“Touch.” You say plainly and simply. You refused to meet Luke’s eyes as you furthered your answer, “I always noticing you touching Alex or Reggie in one way or another. Whether it’s something small or a hug or just a reason to touch them. It’s sweet.” You finish a small smile on your lips as you opened the tab you had been working on previously. A comfortable silence filled the room and you felt pretty content with your answer. It wasn't as bad or as embarrassing as you thought it would be. Luke was silent beside you and you were afraid to look at him so you just kept her gaze on your computer. 

You didn’t actually know if you could touch the boys, you just assumed you couldn’t because Julie was the only one with the real special powers. You had just been randomly gifted parts of them somehow. You all just walked around each other because the guys found it slightly weird to just walk through people they knew. Luke stared at you beside him and he wanted to at least try. If anything, his hand would just fall through like it did with everyone, so slowly and carefully, Luke reached out to turn your chin so you would look at him. The guys raised his eyebrow at his movements and then, he touched you. 

You felt his hand under your chin and you both did a double take. Luke quickly pulled his hand away in surprise that you actually felt that. The two of you exchanged a wondering and surprised glance. 

“We just touched..” 

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor... - c.1

Summary: Penny Townsend is going to attend her first criminology class. What she didn’t expect was professor Walter Marshall.

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

A/N: I hope you enjoy this Professor!AU -- can you imagine? Walter Marshall as a professor? 🤤

Masterlist // But professor... masterlist // Next chapter

✎ ✎ ✎

My parents hoped that I would become a doctor. I get it—being friends with a lot of successful parents with equally successful children, must’ve raised their standard for me. They however must’ve known that medicine wasn’t it for me and going to law school isn’t my forte either. It must’ve been hard on them, knowing I wasn’t that intellectually gifted, though they tried their best for me to be.

They did a lot for me. At the ripe age of two to five hours, I was placed at the entrance of a church in Maryland. The pastor and his wife discovered me and brought me to the hospital, only to found out I wasn’t just a couple weeks premature, but also had a lot of heroin in my system.

My birth parents barely gave me a chance the second I was born (probably when I was conceived, but okay) and that is why I am so grateful that my adoptive parents care so much about me.

And that’s why I want to make them proud and studying psychology is my best chance at being the successful daughter they deserve, but man does it feel wrong to be here. I know there is another student out there who deserves to be here, who actually wants to do this, yet here I am taking their place.

Psychology wasn’t the greatest choice already, but having to take criminology was an even bigger mistake. I walk into the lecture hall for the first criminology class. My hands shake because of the nerves, they’re even clammy. I’m not good at making friends, so seeing those cliques that has formed after only two weeks of university, makes me slightly jealous and really alone.

I never really fitted in. My teachers would describe me as a sweet young girl, who is painfully shy.

That, of course, is if they even noticed me at all.

It can be hard to fit in, especially when you feel out of place the second you enter a room, like I have felt since I can remember.

‘Take a seat,’ I hear a deep voice say and I look up, to meet the eyes of the professor. He is unlike all of my other professors. He isn’t in a suit or at least some decent slacks. His denim jeans hugs his thick thighs, as he wears a sweater on top. His curls are disheveled and slightly frizzy and his beard is asymmetrical. A deep frown in between his brows.

‘Me?’ I ask in a soft tone.

He nods. ‘You,’ he confirms.

I walk passed him to choose a seat in the back. I take place and look around me, only to meet the eyes of the professor again. While I wonder what made him choose teaching, since he doesn’t look like someone who was born to teach, I also ponder about the fact he is looking at me again.

Why would he do that?

I grab my laptop and open it, opening a new document. I’ve been going to NYU for two weeks now, yet this is my first criminology class. I run my fingers through my hair, pushing up the glasses on my nose bridge.

‘Okay everyone,’ I hear the professor say, when it’s time for the class to start. ‘There is a sheet going around. Find the spot you’re sitting now and write down your name. If I find out you are messing with me, you have failed your class immediately.’

He is not beating around the bush.

‘I’m detective Walter Marshall. I have worked for the MPD, the Minneapolis Police Department. For this semester there are three subjects we’ll cover. Victimology, crime analysis and the psychology of criminal behavior.’

This is not at all what I want to learn. This is too gore for me. I should’ve stood up to my parents and go to cosmetology school like I originally wanted. It’s better for me anyways.

I’m so stupid.

The paper ends up on my table and I try to find my place on it. I write down ‘Penelope Townsend’ and slide it to the person two tables over. Professor Marshall explains how we have a weekly lecture of two hours and how he is available for questions every Friday, since he’ll be in his office.

‘Does anyone have any questions?’

A guy raises his hand. ‘Why aren’t you working for the MPD anymore, sir?’

Professor Marshall sits on the edge of his desk, crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest. ‘I was put on leave.’

‘Why?’

‘There were some issues,’ he says. ‘Between me and suspects.’

I have no idea what he is implying, but the silence in the classroom is so thick, that I have a clue what types of issues came with said suspects.

‘Really?’ the guy asks.

The professor only raises his eyebrows, which obviously means he isn’t joking. You don’t need to have studied Psychology to figure that out. ‘Any more questions?

‘Do we work in pairs for the assignment?’ a girl asks.

He shakes his head. ‘No, individual works only.’

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank the stars, I don’t want to work with others. Really, I don’t.

‘Okay, if that’s all, let me start right away. What do these women have in common?’ He presses a button on his presenter and the screen behind him changes. Three pictures of women appear on the screen. It’s their driver’s license photo.

‘They’re women,’ a guy says, causing a few to laugh.

Professor Marshall grabs the paper with names and says: ‘Does anyone have something less obvious to comment than mister Fitzgerald?’ He seems not amused at all by the words of Fitzgerald.

‘Brown hair, blue eyes,’ a girl says.

He nods. ‘And?’

‘They’re pretty,’ another girl says.

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ he notes. His eyes scan the paper and he looks up. ‘Miss Townsend, do you have something to add?’

Our eyes meet again and I realize that I’m the only miss Townsend in the class. I clear my throat and look at the pictures. Say something smart, Penny. Say something intelligent. Really intelligent.

The obvious things have already been said, so I should stay away from those things.

I swallow hard, press my glasses better on my nose and say: ‘Their left eyelid is slightly droopy.’

I hear some people chuckle a bit, making me feel everything but intelligent.

‘Quiet,’ professor Marshall says and the chuckles die down instantly. ‘Their droopy left eyelid is what made them appealing to the killer.’ He looks up from the other side of class, right at me. His slightly annoyed gaze dissolves for a few moments into a soft one. ‘Miss Townsend made an excellent point here. It took an entire police department to come to that conclusion over the course of two months.’

Oh my goodness, I made an excellent point.

The slides change and I see another picture. This time it’s of a man. It’s a mugshot. I bet he is the killer.

‘Miss Townsend, since you are on a roll,’ the professor continues and I nearly groan. Really? He wants me to answer another questions? ‘What’s do you notice about this man?’

I scan his entire face. He has a crooked nose, blemishes on his forehead and thin lips. He looks like a killer. This would be the type of man I would avoid if I came across him.

‘His left eyelid is also droopy,’ I say.

Is that a tiny smirk on his lips? ‘Correct.’ While professor Marshall continues to explain about how his own appearance is unknowingly influencing his choice of victims, I can’t help but beam a little with pride. ‘Because,’ he continues, ‘if you understand your victims, you can understand your killer.’ The slideshow changes to one word. ‘Welcome to victimology.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Time spend in a lecture hall while professor Marshall teaches flies by. Though he is a bit grumpy and not very welcoming, he is interesting and smart. Much better than my other teachers. I put everything in my backpack, before I get up from my seat. I’m one of the last students to leave the place, mostly because I don’t want to be swarmed by the cliques.

‘Miss Townsend,’ professor Marshall says, causing me to stop misstep as I already passed him.

I turn around. ‘Yes?’ I ask.

He doesn’t look up from his notes. ‘You did well in class today.’

Is this man giving me a compliment? He might be the first one in a teacher like position to ever notice me, let alone give me a compliment. ‘I did?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, now looking up from his notes. ‘Don’t hesitate to say something in class next time. You have great insight.’

‘Or just luck,’ I say.

Professor Marshall shakes his head. ‘No, this isn’t about luck, this is good insight. So, can you promise me to raise your hand next class?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head. ‘No, I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you?’

‘What I said: this was luck and it probably won’t happen again. I have to go. I reserved a spot at the library. If that is all, sir?’

He doesn’t say anything, simply looks at me. It takes a second, maybe two before he nods. ‘If you have questions,’ he says, ‘you know how to contact me.’

I nod, before I walk out of the hall. I see students gathering in front of the door and I quickly slip through them and make my way to the library. I’ve been going to classes for around two weeks now and I’m still up to date as we speak. I decide to at least make a beginning with the assignments of my criminology class, because the sooner I start, the less work and stress I’ll experience later on, because I most definitely will stress about it.

It’s been quite awhile since I opened a book for school for assignments or preparing for exams. After high school, I decided to take a gap year, which ended in two. I’ve traveled with all sorts of groups to different countries, worked at an international cafe in Japan for awhile. It did help me with my social skills. I was happy, social and totally in my element. Those wonderful skills were all forgotten the second I stepped foot back in the USA again.

It was my parents that pushed for going back to college and once they figured out that medicine or law wasn’t up my alley, they agreed psychology, though it wasn’t my thing either.

It’s okay, sure, but… Gosh, I miss the freedom I had during the gap years. I’m not stupid, but is the academical life for me? I have looked at cosmetology school and boy do I wish I was there at the moment.

And not here.

✎ ✎ ✎

I don’t know how long I have been at the library, but my eyes are tired by the time I close my laptop. Besides working on my assignment, I also texted my parents to tell them everything is going fine and checked out multiple cosmetology schools here in the area.

Originally I’m from Maryland, meaning it’s only a three hour drive to see my parents and for them to check in on me. I considered lying about my major, about attending NYU and just go to cosmetology school, but mom and dad are paying my tuition, which is another loophole in my plan.

I put the laptop in my backpack and walk out of the library. Every second my mind wasn’t occupied with university related things, it went straight back to my first criminology class, more specifically my professor. His words. It’s one thing he said those things to me, but another that he looked so handsome while saying it.

‘There she is,’ I hear from behind me as I walk through the hallways to the exit. I turn around to discover it’s Fitzgerald. I forgot his first name, which is weird since we share a lot of the same classes together. He isn’t easy to miss. Pleasant on the eyes, that’s for sure, but he is loud, thinks he is hilarious and that makes him kinda annoying. ‘Miss Townsend,’ he says in a mocking tone.

Okay, change kinda annoying to absolutely insufferable.

‘Hm?’

Fitzgerald walks next to me and he comes a lot closer than I prefer. ‘You’re already the teacher’s pet,’ he continues. ‘Bet the man has a thing for Asian chicks.’

I have no idea how to respond to that implication. My instinct says to get out of here, but the exit is right ahead of me and from the looks of it, Fitzgerald is going there as well. So there is no escape.

‘But let’s say it’s beginners luck,’ he says, ‘because it was actually the first time I heard you speak.’

‘You mind leaving me alone?’ I ask.

‘Why is that, sugar boo?’

Okay, now I’m gonna vomit. Goosebumps run over my spine and the hairs in my neck are standing straight up. I bet this guy’s dad is rich, therefore the only reason he is here. ‘I don’t want you here.’

‘You don’t want me here?’ He starts to chuckle. ‘Sweetheart, everyone wants me here.’

Not me.

‘Fitzgerald, are you deaf?’

It’s professor Marshall.

His eyes enlarge when he realizes that too. ‘No, sir,’ he quickly says.

‘She said she doesn’t want you here.’ He stands in front of the two of us, looking everything but amused. ‘You know, back when I was working, I encountered a lot of guys like you. Did you know they usually peak in high school, do okay in college, but the second they end up locked up in jail—and I promise you, they most often will—they aren’t so tough anymore. They usually end up as someone’s bitch.’

To hear this entire monologue and the word bitch from a professor, was not at all what I was expecting. Fitzgerald’s face is drained from all its color. While Fitzgerald looks like he shat himself, I am utterly amazed. I wish I was this intimidating, I think to myself.

Fitzgerald clears his throat, eyes darting around the hallway, almost as if he is trying to find the closest exit. He shoots out of this place very quickly, meaning I’m left with only our professor.

‘Thank you, sir,’ I say.

Professor Marshall simply nods. ‘You know, if you lowered your shoulders, you’d appear more confident.’

Why do I feel so offended? ‘Oh…’

‘It’s advice, miss Townsend, not criticism.’

‘Oh,’ I say again, this time in a whisper like tone. He could’ve brought it up a bit nicer though. No need to hurt my feelings like that.

Professor Marshall and I both walk towards the exit and I notice it’s raining. Great, guess who didn’t bring her umbrella and also isn’t wearing a jacket with a hood?

Absolutely fantastic.

‘Here,’ the professor says, holding out his umbrella for me.

Is this truly happening? ‘Oh, sir, that’s not necessary.’

‘I insist.’

With some hesitation I grab the umbrella from him and smile. ‘Thank you, professor.’

He politely nods and walks off, leaving me with the umbrella and a little bit confused. Though he looks so handsome and slightly intimidating, he still is nice to me. The only teacher ever. Maybe Fitzgerald is right and—

No, no, no, don’t think like that. It’s not that every man who is nice to me all of the sudden has this fetish. That can’t be it, right?

Maybe, despite my aversion, I am actually good at the whole criminology thing and isn’t it a one time thing. Luck. Maybe I do have something I am good at.

✎ ✎ ✎

That Friday I am still on campus after I spend my entire afternoon in the library. Since I have a question about the criminology assignment, I decide walk to the office of professor Marshall. To kill two birds with one stone, I brought his umbrella with me so I can give it back. I knock on the door and hear a low: ‘Come in.’

I open the door and am met with the professor, who is sitting behind is desk. ‘Sir, I have a question about the assignment.’

He leans back in his chair and gestures me to come in. I close the door behind me and expect to sit, until I notice there isn’t a chair anywhere for me to sit on. How unwelcome of him, I think to myself. Does that mean I have to remain standing?

‘What’s your question, miss Townsend?’

‘I didn’t know which format I had to use for the entire assignment. It’s not really that big of a deal, but I was here in the building and I thought that I could…’ Nice way of getting off track, Penny. As they said in high school musical: ‘Get’cha your head in the game’ and this is  not the game. ‘Never mind. Which format should I use?’

‘That’s up to you,’ he says.

That’s it? That’s the answer he is gonna give me?

‘Right,’ I mumble.

‘Other questions, miss Townsend?’

Yes. I let out a deep sigh. ‘The assignment is just harder than I thought,’ I admit. ‘I don’t really understand it.’

Professor Marshall stands up and holds out his hand. ‘Sit, I’ll try to explain it.’

‘In your chair?’

He simply nods and I walk around the desk, to take a seat, while he leans against the windowsill. Oh, the leather is warm… What a body heat does this man produce. ‘Okay, the point of the assignment is to use some of the example files of—staged—murders. Based on the file you choose, you choose a format. You write out the victimology, try to narrate who the killer is, writing down all your findings and there are things I’m gonna talk about in next classes.’

I nod. ‘That makes it easier, thank you, sir.’

‘You’re already working on the assignment?’ he asks. Why does he sound genuinely surprised?

I nod again. ‘I am. I find it easier to work a bit every day, than to cram it all in one day.’ I realize how that sounds. ‘That sounds dorky.’

‘It doesn’t really. It’s a whole lot better than what I did back in the days,’ he says. ‘What did you think of the class?’

Is he asking for my opinion? ‘Your class was very interesting. Slightly morbid though, but fascinating.’

‘Morbid?’ the professor asks. ‘There was nothing morbid about my class.’

I scrunch up my nose. ‘It was kinda scary. With the blood patterns and all. The peek into the murderer’s mind?’ I shiver. ‘Don’t know, felt too personal and too much into the killer’s brain.’

‘The class you’re taking is criminology,’ he says, ‘you should’ve known.’

I shrug, not knowing what to say to him. He is right…

‘Miss Townsend—’

‘Penny,’ I say. ‘It’s Penny. Penelope officially, but people barely call me that.’ People barely call out for me ever, but that’s a different topic. Total different topic.

‘Penny,’ he says, ‘could’ve known.’

I don’t know what he is implying, but I realize I am totally overstaying. ‘I’m sorry, I should go. Thanks for helping me out. Oh, I brought you back your umbrella. I don’t need it anyways.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘Okay.’

‘I should go. It’s getting kinda dark already.’

‘Let me guess, you don’t do well in the dark.’

I smile almost out of guilt. ‘That obvious?’

For a brief moment I spot a smirk on his face. ‘I’m a detective, I spot these things.’

Okay, not gonna lie, but that’s pretty funny. ‘See you next class, professor,’ I say, standing up from his chair and I walk towards the door.

‘See you next class, Penny.’