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lozeyart · 2 years

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Pouncoffelees HCs!!

Alright I’m finally writing up some of my Pouncoffelees HCs

To start, I HC that Misto and Pounce have known each other for awhile, since they were kittens.

(Read more because OOF this got away from me so fast)

Pounce grew up in the countryside, in a small little country house with his humans. He roamed about in the fields a bunch, being an adorable pest.

Then one day, more humans visit and they bring another kitten with them, a black and white cat named Mistoffelees. Though Misto comes off shy at first, he quickly warms up to Pounce and they become extremely close friends. Running around the fields together, catching bugs and trying to catch birds and other things, but they’re still too small to be able to do so.

So a couple years go by like this. Misto visits with his humans occasionally, stays for about a week, and then goes back home to the city. Misto also tells Pounce about this tribe, about the Jellicle Cats, about how amazing everyone is. And every time Misto goes back to the city, Pounce and him try and make the most of his last day. They miss each other desperately while they’re apart.

Finally, one of the humans in Pounce’s household moves out to the city, to live by Misto’s humans, and they take Pounce with them. Luckily for Pounce, he has a cousin who lives in the city, Tumblebrutus, and he’s a part of the Jellicle tribe also! So Tumble and Misto introduce him to the tribe, and he’s immediately welcomed in.

A few more years go by and Misto and Pounce are still thick as thieves.

And then one day, while Pounce and Misto are hanging out, as they always do, Pounce looks at Misto, and he’s just practicing his magic, smiling to himself, and Pounce suddenly realizes, “Oh-” He has feelings for him, he’s had them for awhile, but this little mundane thing, a thing Misto does often, made him think “I want to hold those hands. I want to kiss his knuckles.”

And he panics. He’s not supposed to get feelings for Misto. Thats his best friend right there, what is he going to do? He can’t tell him, because obviously Misto doesn’t feel the same way. It’ll ruin their years long friendship! Theres absolutely no fuckin’ way he will ever tell Misto how he feels.

But his feelings grow stronger by the day. He would very much like to kiss Misto, run his fingers through his hair, play with his tail, hold those hands in his. He can’t stop thinking about Misto. Oh Everlasting, he’s in deep.

So then he starts avoiding Misto, because he doesn’t know what else to do. And this breaks Misto’s heart. He doesn’t understand why his best friend is avoiding him. He keeps seeking Pounce out, but Pounce always finds a convenient excuse to not be around Misto. Fine, Misto thinks, he got the hint. Pounce doesn’t want to be his friend anymore.

And then the annual Jellicle Ball happens. And its awkward. Pounce can’t stand it anymore, he’s missed Misto like crazy, he’s been driving himself mad with how much he thinks about him. He feels incredibly guilty over how he basically ghosted Misto, and now at this ball, he aims to fix it.

And finally, after another scare that Macavity might show up, the ball starts, and Pounce decides, “Here, I’ll talk to him here.”

There’s a part of the dance where Tumblebrutus usually dances with Misto, but before that is close to happening, Pounce pulls Tumble to the side and begs him to let him take his place. Tumble is like ???? Why??? And Pounce goes, “Please just let me take your place. I know the number, I need to dance with Misto, you have to understand.” There’s a long hhhmmm from Tumble and Pounce groans, “Fine! You can have all the treats my humans give me for the next month. Just please let me take your spot!”

“It’s a deal!” Tumble says, and they shake on it.

And the SHOCK on Misto’s face when he realizes that its not going to be Tumble that’s dancing with him, but Pouncival. But Misto isn’t going to let this little surprise mess him up. He does the dance with him, he does it perfectly, and the part where they have to hold hands? Fine, whatever, Misto will do that too, and get over it later.

And when that happens, Pounce squeezes Misto’s hand a bit too tight, and Misto knows. He knows Pounce is sorry, he knows he’ll never do it again, he knows how he feels. And after their part together, they run off for the few minutes they have before the next part of the ball starts, and Pounce is panting, and he’s still holding Misto’s hand. It’s almost like he forgot he was holding it.

He’s rambling. Pounce is apologizing because he needs Misto to know how sorry he is. And in a rush of words, he confesses. He tells Misto how much he loves him, and he got scared, and he just needed to finally tell him, even if it will ruin their friendship. And all of this stops when Misto brings his free hand up to caress Pounce’s cheek, his thumb idly stroking it, and he smiles, and they kiss.

Not rushed and heated, not searing. Its soft, and slow, and Pounce is rigid with tension, because he was not expecting this, but then he just melts into the kiss, and he’s smiling against Misto’s lips. Misto pulls back, and they smile and press their foreheads together, and Misto sighs, “I love you too, you fucking idiot.”

And when Plato and Victoria are courting each other, Misto and Pounce are cuddling on the ground, arms draped over each other, smiling like idiots.

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plantdonutwrites · 2 years

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💛💜 tmnt vday prompts · week 01 · breenie (bree x donnie)

hello! it’s me again and i am PARTICIPATING and talking about ocs and ships and things I seldom ever talk about in public. WELL. here goes nothing.

1. in which tmnt universe does your pairing exist?

the 2003 animated series, also known as the series that has my entire heart.

2. introduce us to your otp.

you all know don already. donatello, donnie-bear. but this cutie right here is breanne o’neil--bree for short! she’s the niece of april o’neil and the daughter of june o’neil (her name is canonically robyn, but i changed it to june for funsies--and she was originally going to be named june, apparently). she was born in los angeles, california, moved to portland, oregan later in her childhood, and now she lives in new york city. she is an artist whose primary focus is painting, but she dabbles in a little bit of everything. she’s extremely creative and resourceful and carries a sunny disposition and tends to get along well with most people despite that social cues and understanding subtext is not her strong suit. but she’s always doing her best and is earnest in those efforts.

3. how did they meet?

a little canon divergence here--we first meet bree’s mom in the ‘trouble with augie’ episode for a brief moment, when she’s visiting april unexpectedly. in my ‘verse, june is april’s older sister by a significant number of years, but has always been the more ‘carefree’ of the two--but anyway. back to the canon divergence: similar to how casey’s mother somehow discovered leo and splinter’s existence in the episode ‘h.a.t.e.’, june caught a brief glimpse of don and asked april about it. the cat was out of the bag, and april introduced her sister to don and the rest of his family. and then eventually, at a later point, june brought bree with her to new york, and bree met the boys through her. one of their more mundane first encounters with a new friend, really.

4. how is the relationship now?

they are thriving. both of them have a long list of projects that they are constantly working on--not together usually, but they are both content with spending time away from each other to focus on their work, and then meet up later and gush to each other about what they’ve been working on. bree has learned a lot from don when it comes to being more patient, and don has been becoming progressively more open with expressing his feelings and what troubles him.

a crucial note that i heartily agree with, in hannah’s words: “i think they're both learning how to take better care of themselves together/learn how to be kinder to themselves together, as well as learning it's okay to be someone who needs kindness or help. since don tends to smother his troubles and bree tends to sweep hers under a rug. through supporting each other, they're also learning to be kinder to themselves and it's very warm and supportive and sweet and gentle."

help i’m emotional.

5. what is each other’s love language?

gift giving and acts of service for both of them, for sure. though as with most things, bree is pretty eclectic in how she expresses affection, and dabbles in many different forms of love language, but the previously mentioned two are the most prominent.

6. do they get married or have any kids?

no and no. similar to leomin, they have each other, their own ambitions and engagements that take up most of their focus, and are fully committed to that and each other, and that’s more than enough.

7. what is your favorite thing about this pairing? (gush as much as you want!)

silly gushing under the cut.

i love how well that complement one another, despite what one would think when they see the surface of their relationship: bree comes off as very energetic, a people-pleaser, perhaps a bit of an airhead, and don can come off as the shy nerdy boyfriend who doesn’t say much, mostly keeps to himself, but is nice enough. but looks and first impressions can be deceiving: don truly sees that bree is in fact a very sincere, loving person who is far from lacking in intelligence, and he always takes her seriously. and bree knows that don may come off like he’s putting people at arm’s length, but he just needs time to warm up to you and when he does, he’s the sweetest person in the room (perhaps even the world?). but i digress, back to being complementary. don’s a worrier, and bree can pull him out of that headspace from time to time. bree can be impatient and a bit impulsive, and don is an extremely patient person who is able to address her in a way that’s constructive and kind. i love how they are both highly creative and inventive, and that their primary purpose for creating the things they do is to make others happy (and it doesn’t hurt that it makes themselves happy also).

don appreciates how bree is always true to herself and passionate, and how she sees the world and notices the little things with enthusiasm... and bree sees the same in him and feels understood.

💜 thanks for reading! 💛

credits!

· tmnt vday prompts

· tmnt otp meme

· art by @redstringraven (used with permission, thankie muchly)

#tmntvday #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt oc #tmnt ocs #tmnt 2003 oc #tmnt 2k3 oc #oc: bree o'neil #ch: donatello #pairing: breenie #f: tmnt 2k3 #thank you for your help again and forever hanners!!!#pdwrites

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misslauwie · 1 year

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If letter were really written for army...

Here is my respond to Jimin.

Hi Jiminshi,

Thank you for dropping FACE.

I just want to express my deepest gratitude.

I know that Im writing this in English and I apologize beforehand as English is not your mother tongue or first language. One of these days I swear I will sign up for a Korean language class.

However, I dont want to use google to translate what I want to say to you as it might get lost in translation.

In this letter to you, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to you for you just being you.

You have been a source of inspiration for me to become my better self (every day), warm blanket when I feel cold and lonely, bright moon in the star when I feel like my life is an endless long tunnel.

Seeing you grow as a person and as an artist, from the boy next door is so heart warming and again inspirational; truly cant find another word for it.

I find extreme comfort in the way you communicate with army. The way you deliver your message in such careful wordings and soft, warm undertone... Just gets my defense down every time.

I may not be the army who says "I hate myself" during one of your live... but some days when its really challenging for me to get out of bed... and when most relationships are based off profit and numbers - I hate myself. I hate myself for taking things too personally when people discounted me... and when I sometimes in return unintentionally treat others in the same way (conditional response).

But seeing you, watching you, with members, with fans, with staff, with peers... I really am inspired to be a good human like what you have always advocate... through your actions, your words and even your attire.

I love how you can be so unserious. You are always ready to laugh at yourself ... Following you, I suspect that this state of mind may also have been a journey filled with ups and down. But I think you have transform so beautifully that you can control your response to people with negative vibes without cutting them off. I tend to do the latter rather than the first as its quick, easy and painless. Love that in your laughter, you always stick to the highest standard for your work or should I say art. Work is too mundane of a word to describe what you put out to the world.

You are a role model to many. To the young, old, men, women, children...

I know this is a parasocial relationship and I should not depend on you to be my emotional crutch... As you have said to aforementioned army who hates him or herself : "Still, I wish you would not be so hard on yourself as you only have yourself" but its hard not to draw strength from you. Please let me draw strength from you until one day I can stand on my own.

So in return ... From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you for being you, thank your parents for bringing you to this world, thank God for making you such an inspiration and history maker that you leaves prints on my life; a much welcome one. Thank the BTS members for being such a good friend / family / support system so that you glow up to be the person you are now (the ingredients are already there tho'). Thank you for the album as well as it gives me strength nowadays to wake up and fight for another day. The story your songs are communicating or should I say the stories behind your album is so relatable even to ordinary fans like me.

These words may have been voice out by others... it may have been redundant... Its not poetic or a rhyme. but its my sincere, unfiltered appreciation for you as the best human I have known. I am not good at expressing my feelings or appreciation through a more meaningful channel like art but I hope these words reach you. So that you can also draw strength from armies if you are feeling down.

Borahae 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

#btsjimin #park jimin #jiminie

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seijorhi · 3 years

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To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear.

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place.

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you.

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip.

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words.

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.”

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks.

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf?

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of.

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots.

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago.

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word.

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?”

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs.

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt.

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes.

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

(Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you.

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to…

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts.

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick.

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control.

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours.

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core.

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere getou suguru #yandere getou #yandere getou suguru x reader #yandere getou x reader #yandere jjk #tw: dubcon #tw: coercion #tw: threats #tw: implied murder #yandere #deal with the devil collab

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years

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some soft!bakugou brainrot for the soul:

-he likes when you greet him in the morning. will absolutely roll his eyes and say sum “jesus, idiot, it’s too fuckin’ early for pathetic enthusiam like that” but will also simultaneously get pouty if u dont say hi to him first

-very much a quiet boy when it’s late at night. will just sit back with his eyes half-lidded and head in his hands, giving a little “mhm” to everything you say. you think he’s not listening but when you don’t finish a thought he will, without missing a beat go “the hell? really? gonna talk that much and then not even finish the story?”

-will cook meals that you like but will insist that he likes them too. bakugou is 100% trying to convince you that he made it for himself but the entire extra portion with your favorite toppings implies the opposite

-pays attention to what you’re doing in training, and will not outright tell you if you’re doing well,, but when ur alone he’ll just sorta “you looked less pathetic than last time, dumbass” with a slight smirk as he brushes past you

-likes to bicker,, i mean come on, obviously, but what i mean is that he just looks so weirdly happy when u yell at him (def goes heart eyes but literally do not say a word about it pls)

-goes very soft for hand massages,,, just like, ground ur thumb into the heel of his hand and rub at his knuckles. man’s will melt into wherever he’s sitting and close his eyes

-will absolutely bite your head off if you’re reckless, but then spend the rest of his time trying to think of ways to avoid u ever being in that much danger again

-remembers places you’ve been together very clearly. so like, if y’all wanna revisit some restaurant, bakugou is leading the way and ur just like “??? that was 6 months ago how do u know where you’re going” ,, n he just scoffs and “because i’m the best. now shut up and pay attention we’re about to cross the street”

-is very soft about u wearing his clothes but only when no one else is around to see it. idk contrary to popular belief i actually see him being very flustered by the sight of u in his clothes. so he won’t let u wear anything around others rlly, but when it’s just him??? poor bby is so soft for it. like, v much hiding his red face in your neck and just breathing u in type of soft

-has a specific blanket that he keeps for when u hang out. eventually it starts to smell like you, bc obviously, n he’ll cuddle up with it when you can’t be with him

-adores when you sing to him. 100% doesn’t matter if you’re good or not,, bakugou just likes that you don’t do it in front of anyone else

-likes when you get needlessly angry with him. idk how to explain it,, but just like, if he’s bitching at one of his friends and you back him up, purely bc u like the chaos, bakugou will be totally 🥰 over it. only after he’s done yelling tho

-mans has a thing for praise. he does. we been knew. but he rlly has an even bigger thing for mundane praise, like rlly small things like, “wow your handwriting is so neat” or “omg your room is so clean! you’re so organized!”,,, jus tiny stuff in passing that let’s him kno he’s doing good

-will absolutely not admit it but he 100% prays for lint on his uniform so you’ll brush it off for him. it’s like, a tiny little touch, just enough to sate him, but not so much that it feels like embarrassing pda

-is a sucker for someone he can just sit in silence with. like idk, if y’all noticed it, but he literally has like, nothing to say when he’s not bitching, so if he’s not angry he’ll just be quiet. if u can be quiet with him, in the same space but not talking, bakugou is a very happy boy about it

-he likes to know things about you no one else does,, so if u tell him anything in confidence, literally anything, he’ll keep it secret. 100% every time, no exceptions, will never spill a single detail even if someone is begging him to

-probably demands that u say u love him multiple times before y’all go to sleep. its the only affection he outright asks for so u give in every time

-shares whatever he has with u. just wordlessly will hand u a piece of whatever he’s eating. doesn’t warn u if it’s spicy tho,, bc he’s still a little shit

-sort of just follows you wherever you’re going. like, if u tell him u want to be alone he’ll leave, but otherwise he just kinda assumes he’s meant to follow. most times he’s right

-he is 100% the type to know something is wrong without u having to say it. he prob knows exactly what it is too. lmao like, sure, he’s still totally clueless on how to approach/support you but bakugou is the furthest thing from dumb. he knows,, he just does.

-gets super protective about your things. like, god forbid somebody try to write anything in ur notebook while you’re not paying attention,, bakugou’ll threaten them before their pen even touches the paper

-he likes to tend to your injuries. like, even the rlly minor ones. like, let’s say u get a papercut??? pls mans is grabbing your finger, running it under water, and wrapping a bandaid around it before u even register it. he’ll grumble the whole time like “jesus, dumbass, can’t believe i have to do this.” but rlly he enjoys doing it bc it makes him feel important. like maybe he’s someone heroic to u

-if no one else is around, and there’s a lot of trust established, he’ll prob do whatever u tell him to. now ofc there’s gonna be a lot of complaining, bc it’s bakugou, but he’ll do it

-is a big fan of when you tell him he’s your favorite. pls the man is so see-through ahaha,, u could be like “omg! bakugou! you took out the trash without me asking?? that’s why you’re my favorite!” n all he walks away hearing is “they think im the best. i fucking am the best.”

-he likes to watch you do mundane things. like rlly little, every-day things like brushing your hair or tying your shoes. idk he just thinks your methodical movements are weirdly calming

-is a sucker for forehead kisses. like obvi, only when y’all are alone, but like, press a kiss to his hairline?? suddenly it’s rip angry bakugou, soft bakugou hrs only

-doesn’t rlly initiate touch that much,, but when he does mans is extremely petulant about it. like, if u decide u have something more pressing than him, bakugou is almost immeadiately going “that’s fucking stupid. what you’re doing. you should stop.” n then he’s just poking and prodding and needling at u until u fall into his arms

-shadows you at social gatherings. very guard-dog like from an outsider perspective, but rlly it’s just bc when katsuki says he doesn’t like anyone else, he means it. he’s sticking by you bc you truly are the only one he tolerates

-he secretly rlly likes when u fuss over him. like, when u ask him if he’s sore from training or if he has any injuries. bakugou will brush u off like the absolute bitch that he is, but secretly he’ll be so warm about it. he just likes that u care enough to ask

-he tries very hard to be gentle for u. ofc it pretty much never works bc it’s him, but he’ll still forever be reading romance manga n going “yeah, i bet they’d like that. gonna it do it way better though. im the fucking best, i can do it.”

ahahaaha me?? a bunch of bakugou thoughts?? never, idk what ur on about

#bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fic #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons

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kuromochimi · 3 years

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Congrats on 1.8k!!!

For your Valentine Event: May I request #18 "Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time" with Baji Keisuke, please?

Thanks for your hard work and have a good day/evening 💙

Crying while writing this T^T

#18 Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time

Content & Warnings: angst, unhealthy family relationships, major character death, spoiler (ep 21)

Valentine Event <3

Baji somehow always comes to the people who need a friend. Chifuyu. Kazutora. You.

You met him on the day your and your parents were kicked out of your house. You ended up staying in a motel overnight, having to hear your parents shouting and arguing. Without a single thought, you ran out the place aimlessly even when you felt the raindrops begin to fall and minutes later, you were soaked to the bone. Like a slap from reality, the cold woke your senses and you started looking for a a roof to shield yourself from the harsh rain. Finally, after walking a little more, you found a building with extended roofing on its side alley. You sat there, waiting for the rain to pass. While waiting, a faint meow caught your attention. It was a cat, a little drenched too. You looked at it with pity. “Sorry , kitty. I’m just as drenched and cold as you are”. You sighed heavily. “Maybe I can help with that then?” a deep voice suddenly spoke. Looking up, you found a guy with long hair, a large umbrella protecting him from the rain and he was wearing the same uniform as you. He was holding up his jacket, offering it to you. “Who are you?” You asked. “Baji. Baji keisuke. And that’s my friend. Shiro” as he pointed to the cat. “Well baji, what kind of friend lets their friend stay out here in the cold? Poor shiro” You joked. “Definitely not me. Come on, let’s get you dry and warm. My mom won’t mind.” He took shiro in his arms and started walking towards the apartment complex.

Fast forward to now. Hanging out at his place became a usual thing. You found it extremely endearing how the stray cats came into his room every now and then and how he never forgets to feed them when they do. Or how much effort he puts into studying for his mom. He was the one thing that made you feel happy despite everything that has gone wrong in your life. He was currently crouched down on the floor, petting and poking one of the stray cats as it was eating from the food bowl baji just filled up. He was laughing, smiling, mumbling about how he wanted to adopt all of them but his place was too small for now and how he was going to get a big house in the future so he could fit all of the stray cats in it. You were seated on the floor against his desk, you were staring at him with adoration and gratitude. But you noticed how his smile was different. It was almost melancholic. He gently faced you while still petting the cat. “You know I love you right?” He said outright. “Kei, is this a confession?” You were laughing, thinking it was a joke. He simply smiled back and moved closer to you to give you a tight hug before returning to his previous spot. He wanted to etch your laughing and happy expression into his memory and for some reason, you also made sure that this mundane moment was kept in your heart. The next day, you found out why. When chifuyu came knocking on your door, crying, barely able to speak, apologizing for something you didn’t know of. Slowly, what happened was unraveled to you. And baji knew. You you were sure that he knew that somehow, yesterday was the last memory you two would have together. He sacrificed himself for mikey and kazutora and everyone else to make sure they would be at peace with each other. Maybe perhaps he forgot or maybe he didn’t realize soon enough.. how he was the only peace you had in all of your chaos.

#kuromochimi.valentine #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers #baji x reader #baji angst #baji keisuke

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stellartales · 3 years

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zhongli ▪︎ glazed moon

pairing: zhongli x traveler!reader

genre(s): comfort + mild angst + fluff

summary: liyue harbor is once again preparing for another festival — the mid-autumn festival. but somehow she simply couldn't bring herself to join the others in the celebration. definitely not when her heart is aching in melancholy for her missing twin. — | m.list

background: this scenario takes place during the mid-autumn festival - as quoted from wikipedia - it is the second-most important holiday after Chinese New Year with a history dating back 3,000 years, when China's emperors worshipped the moon for bountiful harvests.[2] The celebration is called Chuseok (autumn eve) in Korea, Tsukimi (moon-viewing) in Japan and Tết Trung Thu (Mid-Autumn Festival) in Vietnam

this event celebrated by the chinese is usually spent eating mooncakes and drinking teas. lanterns are also an important aspect of this festival. unlike the yuanxiao fesitval or mingxiao festival (which is the fictional festival featuring best boy Xiao in GI) where lanterns are released into the sky, lanterns are hand-held. this is a festival i celebrate every year hence i'm familiar with it — feel free to read up about this on wiki!

a/n: don't mind me, this is just a random idea that popped in my head. i'm in the mood for some angsty stuff these days so just had to get it out. Flute version of 无羁 (Wu Ji) from the drama 'Untamed' was the song which inspired my angsty mood while typing this. pardon my errors (I may have missed them and i kinda wrote this on a spur sooooo yea)

Please do me a favor and reblog this. Thank youuuu ❤

the vitality of liyue harbor has always been astounding; an envy of the seven nations.

bright, bustling streets even in the darkness of nights was enough to show the nature of the city.

though, today it was a different kind of bustle. stores were already closed; even the nocturnal businesses that one would only see at night.

the moon had been bright and round the past few nights while the people busied themselves for another festival to come.

— the mid-autumn festival, an annual festival celebrated by the people of liyue or at least that was what zhongli explained yesterday when he extended an invitation to her to join him and others in moon-gazing today.

tonight, the moon shone bright and full in the clear dark sky, seemingly more so than the previous nights.

strategically rooted to the ground of a spacious balcony overlooking the gentle waves below, the stone tables were in a perfect spot beneath the brilliant moon.

colorful mooncakes of various flavors and teacups filled with steaming tea laid before her.

she sat at one of the round stone tables with some funeral parlor staff and of course, zhongli himself who has been rather busy ever since she arrived—

the cheerful chatters and laughter drew her eyes away from the empty seat beside her and to the tables across theirs.

his archon days were over, he said.

he was simply trying to experience a mundane life as 'zhongli' now, as the geo archon had put it when she expressed her surprise at his involvement with a festival fabricated by the mortals' minds.

and indeed—

her gaze idled on him.

— he was doing it too well.

illuminated by the golden glow the table lanterns emanated, the cordial and relaxed atmosphere was warmed by attentive eyes and smiling lips.

all on him.

apparently, some things never changed. whether he was rex lapis or zhongli, he carried an alluring elegance and charisma. clinging to every word and his occasional hand gestures, they were like moths drawn to a flame.

she could understand why; she liked hearing him talk. she would have gone over too, if not...if not for this weight on her heart.

it has been nearly a year since she was in teyvat looking for her twin. these few days in the harbor, the full moon was a constant reminder of how time has passed, and yet...

a heavy sigh escaped her. a longing gleam waned in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to the sky.

they used to talk and eat under a full moon just like this, a bitter ache clenched her heart.

her teeth sank into her lower lip as it trembled.

please...not now. her hands curled into shaking fists as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to leave her eyes.

not now. not at this party. she silently pleaded with herself, her squared shoulders shaking. it took all her willpower to not let the dam break.

but one managed to escape her anyway.

—shit.

she was up on her feet fast and slipped away from the party as subtly as she could.

stumbling out of the party half-blind with tears wasn't exactly the best situation to remember about the cloak meant to keep her warm on an autumn night.

luckily, she didn't end up falling off the stairs she currently sat on.

autumn in liyue was typically not cold, but tonight seemed especially so.

she shivered to the chilly breeze brushing against her back. goosebumps crawled across her skin, particularly on the areas her dress failed to protect against the cold.

she couldn't quite bring herself to go back for the cloak. not with the mess she was now.

the sight of the round moon above wavered in her vision as tears quietly trailed down her cheeks.

under the vast, seemingly endless night sky, she felt small...

— her knees were drawn closer to her chest, curled fingers digging into her dress.

...and extremely powerless.

where is he? why can't she find him? is he even in teyvat? Is he even...still alive? does he even exist anymore?

—a dreading sense of hopelessness echoed in her heart and summoned another wave of tears wavering her vision.

under this wide, endless sky and its luminous moon, she felt alone, truly alone in the presence of the joyous cacophony of laughter and playful yells coming from the festival she left behind.

a nasty voice prompted by the noise taunted her — of how no one would notice, even if she were to walk right out of liyue harbor right now.

drowning in harsh, relentless thoughts, she failed to notice the gaze of a pair of wise, golden eyes on her back, soft with concern.

long legs covered the distance between them in a quiet, graceful stride; the gentle clacks of his loafers whenever their heels hit the ground slipped past her notice too.

not even when he climbed down the steps to settle himself next to her, a step above hers.

not even the inevitable proximity between their bodies caused by the short stairs spacious for one but narrow for two.

only until his coat was off his shoulders and wrapped around hers—

"why the tears on the mid-autumn festival?"

—she jolted with a sharp gasp, her widening eyes snapping over to him.

the calm and prodding gaze that met hers was accompanied by the tender brush of his thumb across her left cheek, right under her tearing eye before switching over to her other.

"zh-zhongli?"

she stayed stunned, unsure she was feeling so because someone noticed she had left or was it because of this simple gesture.

zhongli has always been a mentor-like figure to her. his words, his wise gazes, the comforting pets he occasionally gave on her head and back had always reminded her of how she was a mere child in his eyes.

but tonight...this, nothing about the gentleness his hand or his eyes emanate felt normal. or was she just delirious?

the strange stutter of her heart caused by the hand on her face, the blush heating up her cheeks made her tear her gaze away from his, flustered.

zhongli let his hand drop back onto his knee, but his eyes stayed.

crossing her arms to hold onto his coat sitting on her shoulders, she thought hard to recall his question.

"i can't help thinking about my brother, that's all." she looked back at him, smiling.

a smile he thought reminded him of the moon when it was not yet full — a quiet light melancholic with vague sadness.

"don't worry about me, i'll be fine." she slipped a glance over her shoulder in the direction of the festival. "you should go back there, zhongli, they need you. what's mid-autumn festival for liyue without you?"

she moved to remove the coat from her shoulders, but a hand wrapped around her wrist stopped her.

"but what's mid-autumn festival without you, my dear friend?"

zhongli regarded her intently, his eyes boring into hers for a second before shifting to focus on his coat.

there was something else in his eyes when they return to hers; it came and went in a flicker. "...keep this on, it's chilly today."

"thanks..." she murmured, her shoulders sinking as she yet again returned her thoughts to her brother.

"aether..." the pain she guarded showed on her face. "will i ever be able to see him again?"

tears started to well up in her eyes once again.

"i'm sorry, zhongli, i'm so sorry..." a quiet sob broke through, "today is supposed to be about the mid-autumn festival, and yet...here you are, listening to me."

zhongli's mouth opened then snapped close.

he always knew what to say whenever she was in a pinch. however, it was tears this time, and he wasn't exactly sure about what he should do about his body's urge to extend his arms out to her.

he was already more than a thousand years old.

as the former geo archon, he was the immovable rock. emotions and impulses he used to hold within himself in his younger days were buried deep under the sands of time...or at least they should be.

so where did this come from? was this strange stir an inevitable part of being a mortal?

"you know what?"

her movement to rise from the spot beside him turned his head back to her.

resolute hardened the glint in her tearing eyes, "i don't want to hold you back any longer,"

her fingers curled into a shaky fist, nails digging into her palm.

"....the people need you. i-i think i should just go bac—"

his hand flew out before he could think any further; his body was faster than his thoughts this time.

her next breath puffed out of her, in surprise and bewilderment as her body was tugged and cocooned by a breathing warmth before she could understand what happened.

and when she did, her eyes flew wide.

cheek pressed against his neck, she found herself held to his chest. she could feel his chin atop her head and his arms around her.

he was beside her a moment ago, and now he was behind sharing the same step as her, broad enough to accommodate them. was she the one who moved? or did he?

she didn't know how but she couldn't find the energy to care —the scent of musk and lingering tea engulfing her was an alluring comfort that made her want to stop trying.

so warm. really, really warm.

and so was his voice. "...but you need me." a hand caressed the back of her head.

there was a pause before a feigned cough ensued. "i meant, this."

#genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli imagines #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x traveler #zhongli x lumine #zhonglumi

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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t-shirt

Day 8, Story #1 is by @accio-broom

Title: t-shirt Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Ron Weasley / Hermione Granger Prompt: Cuddling Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

In the morning when you wake up, I like to believe you are thinking of me And when the sun comes through your window, I like to believe you’ve been dreaming of me.

Hermione Granger isn’t the kind of girl who struggles to get out of bed, especially when there are pressing Head Girl duties to attend to. Her to-do list is as long as her arm, she has five essays to write and a whole raft of other bits and bobs she needs to see to.

But right now, with the sun peeking through the edges of the heavy curtains surrounding her four-poster bed, she wants to bask in the aftermath of her dream just a little longer. Even as her dorm mates start to clatter around the room, getting ready for the day, she snuggles deeper under her duvet and shuts her eyes, trying her best to get back to her own little world.

Is Ron doing exactly the same thing right now? He loves his bed, and always complains when she forces him out of it earlier than he wants. Is he having the same lovely dreams as her? Probably not, he’s been away on an extremely secretive training mission for the past five days, and he isn’t a fan of sleeping on the floor. Still, she likes to think that even the memory of her has been keeping him warm at night, even if he isn’t comfortable wherever he is.

Dreaming.

Her dreams last night were amazing.

They were in the Gryffindor common room, sprawled across the comfiest sofa next to the fire. He’d untucked her blouse, and one of his hands was under the white material, massaging her bra-clad breasts whilst he buried the other somewhere underneath her school skirt. He was only wearing his plaid pyjama bottoms, which were doing nothing to hide his growing excitement, and the faded orange Cannon’s t-shirt he often wore to sleep.

She loves that top. It’s threadbare and far too small for him, accentuating his muscles, and exposing patches of his skin. She likes to wind her fingers through the holes, count the freckles she can see as they explore each other’s bodies. Dream Hermione couldn’t get enough of Ron’s skin; she licked and sucked at his neck while her hips lifted to press against his, grounding into his erection and causing the delightful friction she can never get enough of.

Despite their public position, there had been no panicking about being caught or interrupted. She was consumed in Ron, and he in her. The most perfect dream.

But it was all a dream. Hermione is still at school and Ron is in the Auror Academy, and they are facing months of separation. If he does well in his mission, he’ll pass his assessments and move on to the next stage. There will be no passionate make-out sessions, heavy petting, or sex anywhere until her Easter holidays at the earliest, and it definitely won’t be happening at school.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping.

With a heavy huff, she rolls onto her back and reaches under the mattress for the pristine parchment she has hidden there.

Over the years she’s known Ron, she could safely say that he was rubbish at writing to her. Summer breaks and Christmas holidays passed without a single word from him. But their newly fledged relationship, combined with her leaving in September, seemed to inspire a completely different side to the boy. If he was at home, she could now expect Pidwidgeon almost every morning, and each letter the owl delivered was soppier and longer than the last.

It is clear that Ron misses her.

She finds her wand under her pillow and pulls it out, tapping it against the paper before discarding it again. It begins to unfold, revealing a whole pile of messages from her beau, Ron’s familiar unintelligible scrawl decorating every inch of them. If she hadn’t spent the last six years deciphering his essays, she might have struggled to read them, but now she devours every word, the familiarity somewhat easing her home-sickness.

In his first letter he reminds her that she has to keep these letters secret, to hide them safely away from prying eyes. Ron doesn’t want anyone getting their hands on them, a panic magnified by the fact that Hermione is sharing a dorm with Ginny this year.

“Just imagine what they’d say,” Ron writes, and Hermione can picture the tips of his ears turning bright pink as his quill scratches against the parchment. “I don’t want them to take the piss.”

She’d written back, assuring him that his letters were safe and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of his ability to express his feelings. It’s the sign of a mature man.

Plus, she finds the confidence in his words sexy.

Letting her fingers trail over the paper, Hermione allows herself to get lost in the things he tells her. There’s the boring, mundane things, like how work is going and pleading with her not to get riled up over her latest marks (which ended up being perfect, of course). Next, come the promises and their plans for life post-Hogwarts. They want to get a flat together and go on a lovely holiday, where they can be alone for a whole week. Each sentence makes the smile on her face grow even bigger.

She takes her time, savouring how close to Ron they make her feel. She misses him like crazy. When she packed her trunk last September, she couldn’t even imagine how hard being apart from him would be. She’s an independent woman, a war heroine, in fact, but the yearning and pining for the guy drove her mental on occasion. She hates that she’s so reliant on him now.

Still, there are only a few more months left of her school year, and then they’ll be together forever.

The words run out, and Hermione lets out a heavy sigh. She sits up, tapping the paper again with her wand before stowing it safely back in its hiding spot. Feeling ready to face the day, she swings her legs out of bed and throws back her curtains, catching Ginny by surprise.

“Good morning!” Hermione smiles as she springs out of bed.

“Is it?” Ginny complains in return. “It’s snowing, which means no Quidditch.”

Hermione collects her things and heads for the shared bathroom with a chuckle, not letting the thought of bad weather affect her good mood.

⁂

When I saw you, everyone knew, I liked the effect that you had on my eyes But no one else heard the weight of your words or, felt the effect that they have on my mind.

Today’s Head Girl duties include monitoring the monthly visit to Hogsmeade. As a seventh-year, Hermione is allowed out of the castle anytime she wants, as long as she tells her Head of House. But the younger children always need supervising. Even with the war over, and the threat of Voldemort over, they still need to be cautious.

It’s her favourite part of the month. Being cooped up in the castle is so oppressive after a year spent camping in forests and hiding on cliff tops, so being out in the village helps clear her head.

If she gets five minutes, she may even be able to pick up Ron’s birthday present. There’s still a week until the big day, and chances are, he’ll probably still be away for work, but she wants to collect it now, just in case. She’ll wait until she sees him face to face before she gives it to him.

The late February snow is trying to melt, but the keen Scottish wind keeps the last of it lingering around. Hermione stands in her usual spot outside Honeydukes, watching as the students enter the shop then leave with their arms full of treats. Her parents would have an aneurysm if they saw the number of sugary treats devoured by the children in the school. Just the amount Ron consumes would set them off.

The thought of her boyfriend brings another smile to her lips, though it does nothing to stave off the cold. What she wants right now is to be cuddled up in Ron Weasley’s strong arms, a mug of Molly’s delicious hot chocolate and a roaring fire, and in that particular order, too.

A loud pop distracts her as someone apparates at the bottom of the lane. Over the heads of raucous students, a tall stranger appears, bundled up warm against the cold. She finds her gaze drawn to the newcomer, and she immediately recognises the bounce in his step as he walks past the rows of shops and hordes of students.

Hermione’s heart beats in an unsteady rhythm against her ribcage, her eyes widen, and the air disappears from her lungs. As the man draws closer, she catches a peek of red hair under a bright orange bobble hat and the long, thin nose that so often grazes against hers as they kiss. But what draws her to the man is his deep blue eyes, which she can see shining up the street from a million miles away.

It’s Ron.

With an uncharacteristic squeal, she takes off from her spot, trying her best to keep her balance in the ice as she throws herself at her boyfriend. Arms and legs lock around his long, gangly body with such force he’s almost bowled over. He compensates with long fingers clinging on to her as she buries her head against the crock of his neck. Her senses ignite as she takes a long breath, drinking in the smell of him—clean, with a hint of sandalwood and eucalyptus.

“What are you doing here?” she mumbles against his skin, her lips finding a path between his knitted scarf and stubble up his pale neck.

Ron moans at the assault from her kisses. “Missed you, is all.”

Hermione Granger has always been an intelligent girl, so it’s a surprise to her that a handful of words can turn her mind to mush. Right now, despite the fact she’s supposed to be on Head Girl duty, all she can focus on is the handsome man in her arms, and the fire blazes through her skin at their contact, even through layers of clothes.

Falling.

Forgetting that they’re in a public place, Hermione’s mouth seeks his, and they fall into a hungry kiss. Teeth clash, noses bump together, yet after weeks away, it’s the best thing in the world. The taste of peppermint and chocolate frogs spreads across her tongue, taking her straight back to lazy summer days spent snogging out by the lake at the Burrow.

Just as her lungs feel like they might explode, Ron tears his lips away from hers, and he flashes her one of his patented lop-sided grins. If she didn’t have her legs firmly wrapped around him, she might have gone weak at the knees.

With a chuckle, he teases, “Guess you missed me too?” All Hermione can do is nod in reply, overwhelmed by his sudden appearance. “Good! I missed you so fucking much. My mission finished early, but Harry is still away, and I didn’t know what else I could do to distract me from worrying about the results.”

“Oh, glad to see I’m your second option,” Hermione chides, although her massive smile does not falter. “How did you know I was here?”

“Ginny has been sending me your Head Girl schedule for months. Not that I’m keeping tabs on you,” he adds. “Just wanted to make the most of any opportunity I might have to see you.”

Impressed by his cunning plan, she presses one final hard kiss against his lips before removing herself from their reunion embrace. “Well, since it’s your birthday in a week, I guess I better start spoiling you.”

She tangles their fingers together before starting to lead him down the lane.

“But what about your duties?” he questions. “I didn’t think your slot finished until lunchtime?”

“It doesn’t, but I don’t think it will matter if I skive off a little earlier. Especially given the circumstances.”

With her back turned, she misses the look of glee that passes over Ron’s face before his eyes turn dark. She’s too absorbed in her mission to buy him all his favourite treats, cavities be damned, then curl up in a cosy corner by the fire in the Three Broomsticks so that she can do some serious catching up with him.

Their palms press together as they walk, filling her body with warmth. Ron is back where he belongs, and even if it’s only for a few hours, this feeling is a hundred times better than any of the letters he sends while they’re apart.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in, I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping,

Not that she plans on ever getting rid of them.

and never deleting.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #romione #ron x hermione

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 25: Prima Materia

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Five Months Later

Friday, November 13th, 1998

“I can’t believe you,” Scully hisses as they exit Skinner’s office. “We’ve discussed this, Mulder. Multiple, no, countless times. You can’t just accuse someone of being a supernatural entity based off a… a wild hunch!”

“A hunch? Scully, we have concrete evidence. It’s literally documented in the folder you’re holding right now.”

“That ‘evidence’ is obviously subject to interpretation,” Scully retorts, stomping down the hall in an attempt to keep pace with Mulder’s long strides. “An interpretation I thought we’d agreed upon before going into that meeting. And I don’t appreciate you abandoning a solid hypothesis, that we discussed at length, in favor of whatever the hell that just was.”

Mulder stops outside the elevator, turning to her. “That was the truth, Scully. It’s out there, if you would just open your mind a little and accept that there are things science still can’t explain.”

“But science can-” She reaches out and punches the button for the elevator, “-explain it. You just like the sound of your own theories and ideas better than fact. Fox Mulder, the champion of truth, the only man willing to consider the extreme.”

“You know you like it,” he says in a low tone.

Scully’s eyes go wide, and she grabs his elbow. “Do not-”

The elevator doors open, and they scurry into the lift. Mulder presses the button for the basement.

“Do not use my weaknesses against me at work, Mulder, that’s not fair,” she says as the doors slide closed.

“Weaknesses?” Mulder asks casually. “Am I your weakness, Dr. Scully?”

“I’m serious. We’ve have a few close calls in the past few months; if we’re not careful, we’re going to be found out.”

“How, by arguing? We did that before we started fu-”

She gives him an imploring look.

“-working after hours,” he corrects. “Besides,” he continues, angling his chin downwards to reach her ear, “I happen to know arguing turns you on.”

Scully licks her upper lip. “I’m just saying we have to be more careful,” she insists, staring straight ahead.

“Then I guess this isn’t the best time to invite you out for a drink,” Mulder says.

Scully glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “It’s Friday the thirteenth,” she notes with a twinge of a smile. “Don’t you think it’s a little risky?”

Mulder shrugs as the elevator doors open into the basement. “Historically, the thirteenth is my lucky day.”

“You know, it’s been nine months since our first date,” Mulder says conversationally. They’d walked to Casey’s Bar from the Bureau and are now perched on stools at the far end of the counter, nursing a beer each.

Scully furrows her brow, obviously doing some quick mental math. “February… that was a date?” she says, somewhat amused. “You should have told me at the time. I wouldn’t have waited so long to put out.”

Mulder raises his eyebrows. “Dana,” he says in mock surprise. “I thought you were a good church girl.”

“What gave you that idea, my penchant for kneeling?” she mutters into her glass.

Fuck, she’s good.

They’ve been together for six months now, and it’s surprising how little has actually changed between them, in the practical sense. They’ve been pretty good at keeping their relationship a secret, Mulder thinks. It helps that everyone in the Bureau already thought they were crazy, codependent, and tanking their respective careers. Apparently, bad reputations make the best cover.

He and Scully arrive at the Hoover building in separate vehicles, squabble over conflicting viewpoints, have lunch together almost every day. He rests a hand on her back, guiding her through the halls, and she gives him withering glances and dramatic eye rolls when appropriate. From the outside, they’re still the same Mulder and Scully.

And then they go home to one of their respective apartments and tear each other’s clothes off.

Well, they usually make it home. That quickie in the office annex was an outlier.

Nine months seems significant somehow. The length of human gestation, Mulder thinks absently. It seems like a length of time worth celebrating.

“Would it be terribly corny of me to propose a toast?” he asks.

“A toast to what?”

He’s suddenly shy. “Us,” he says softly. “How far we’ve come. And how much,” he adds, giving her a nudge with his elbow. She rolls her eyes at him, and it feels overtly fond.

Scully lifts her glass. “To us,” she says warmly. “And to spooky shit.”

“You remember,” Mulder says as they clink glasses, recalling that first toast in Casey’s all those months ago.

“Mm,” she replies, sipping her beer. “I do. It was a… notable evening.”

“What made it notable for you?” he asks.

“We had an actual conversation, for one,” Scully muses. “About our personal lives, attraction, about how we relate to the outside world; and by extension, how we relate to each other. I remember very clearly feeling like we were close to something.”

“So did I,” Mulder admits. “So what happened, on your end?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “The spell wore off, maybe? When I got home that night I remembered all the reasons it would be a mistake to let myself feel. And then Mark happened, and you know the rest of that story.” She turns on her stool to face him more fully. “What happened for you?”

“I took you on a very cold, very dark picnic,” Mulder reminds her.

“Which was wonderful,” she offers.

Mulder nods. “But then when I asked you out again, you had a date. I don’t know, maybe I was going too slow, being too subtle. But when you started going out with that jackass it felt like… in a way, you were saying that what I had to give wasn’t enough.”

Scully doesn’t say anything, just stares down at her glass.

“And I realize that it’s selfish of me to project that onto you,” he amends. “Your choices aren’t about me. But fuck, I wished they were.”

“You’d be surprised how many of my choices actually were about you,” she says softly. “I surprise even myself. You told me before that you didn’t think I’d last a full year working with you, remember? There was validity in that. This job… it’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. So much is at stake for us, so much has been taken. But I chose to continue because I believed in you, and in our work. We have different methods and come to different conclusions, but we’re working towards the same thing. That’s what I believe.”

He reaches over beneath the cover of the countertop and takes her hand, clasping it atop his knee. They sit in silence for awhile, taking sips of their drinks, palms pressed together.

The truth hides in many places, Mulder is learning. Places more secret and sacred than dusty file folders or abandoned warehouses, more mundane than the locked rooms of the Pentagon or trapped beneath thousands of years of ice. The greatest truths are scattered pieces he stumbles upon every day; reflected in his bathroom mirror, scribbled on post-it notes in their office, hidden under Scully’s warm tongue. He knows he’s an obsessed man, prone to irrationality and impulse; but in quiet moments with his partner, he finds small fragments of peace he never thought he could reach.

“Where are you?” Scully says softly, drawing him back into the present. A dim barroom, a sweating glass, her soft hand in his. He wonders if the day will come when his mind wanders too far for her to follow.

“I-I know how crazy this is going to sound, Scully but bear with me… do you ever think that we’re… that we’re bonded somehow? Like we were always supposed to end up here. Together.”

“Like here, here? In this bar?”

“Maybe. Maybe less specifically this bar and more generally this time and place on earth. This universe, this dimension. With each other.”

She shakes her head gently, smiling. “Mulder, it’s been a long week. If we’re going to talk about the metaphysical I need to either have more to drink or be under the influence of a postcoital surge of oxytocin.”

He leans closer to her. “Do you have a preference as to which, because I’d gladly provide either.”

Scully pushes her half-empty glass away from her, eyes dark and soft. “Take me home, Mulder,” she whispers.

His heart squeezes. “Will you stay?” The night, the rest of our lives, until our boat drifts over the edge of the earth?

She nods, and another piece of the truth slides into place.

#fmcr #my fic #fox mulder closet romantic #txf fic #xfiles #It Is Finished #oof #i need to lie down

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

IMPERFECT MORNINGS J.T.

Request: delivering on the more jason todd requests!! where it's the morning after and they're both in each other's arms and enjoying this moment of peace together and they're both so happy and domestic, then the moods broken by one of the batboys barging in and ruining the mood in a funny aww we ❤️ inlaws type a way.

Warning: fluff

A/N: Done my last exam for the Summer! now it’s vacation time :)

Mood board

Word count: 1.5k

Jason Todd was always filled with surprises.

When you first met him, you thought him to be some hardass player who didn't care. The more that you got to know him, the more you realized he wasn't like that at all. Jason was extremely thoughtful and caring, he enjoyed the small moments in life and he certainly wasn't the asshole you thought him to be.

Jason loved literature. He loved reading the classics like Dickens and he was always quick to give him opinion about the books. Art work was always hung up on his walls, different styles that you would have never expected him to like. Jason loved to cook for you and be romantic on evenings alone.

He was nothing like you expected.

Jason had a warm heart and and bright smile - when he decide to show it. You were the one that saw it the most. He rarely ever showed anything aside from a scowl with his family. Even with Roy and Kori he didn't particularly show it off. You were the exception that got see his soft side, and you loved it.

Early weekend mornings were the times you got to see him most relaxed. Jason would sprawl out in your bed, thinking to himself, reading a book, or watching whatever shitty television show was on. It was his time to collect himself from his crazy life, and he was always happy to have you by his side.

That morning, he picked up a book that hadn't been read in weeks, and continued with it. He sat up right, the hem of the blanket just barely covering his naked bottom half. You laid on your side, watching him with the utmost admiration as his eyes glazed over every word.

"You're so handsome," you suddenly spoke. Jason gained an amused smirk before he set his book down on his nightstand. He slid down his pillow until he was finally laying level with you. "You didn't have to stop reading, I just wanted to tell you that."

"When my beautiful, naked, partner, tells me I'm handsome, I'm not gonna ignore them," Jason informed. Your noses were only inches apart and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheeks. He reached out and pushed the loose hairs away from your face and kept his palm against your cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, more, Jay," You told him. Jason leaned enough just enough to peck your lips. He wanted these moments to last centuries. He was tired of having to fight for them, they shouldn't have to be a luxury for either of you. It isn't fair to withhold mundane things like laying in bed, but that's just his life. You knew what you were signing up for.

Jason was the most important person in your life. He had gotten you through so many tough times in your life. Red Hood might have been some what of a nuisance to the city, but he was your own personal hero. No matter the kind of trouble you were in, he was always going to be there to save you.

"What are you making me for breakfast?" You ask. The corners of your lips turned up at his faux shocked reaction. Jason always made you breakfast, and yet he always liked to joke that it was your turn this time. He never let you have your turn, no way was he going to let you stop him from spoiling you.

Jason didn't answer your question, but instead, tackled you into a hug. He warped his whole body around you so your face was against his chest and his arms wrapped around you. If you were safe in his arms, then he never had anything to worry about. Keep you safe was always his priority.

You wanted to ask when he was leaving again. Time with Jason always seemed short lasted. You never got enough of him, but you knew that he had his own responsibilities that he had to maintain. You decided against the idea, there was no point in spoiling your time with him now.

"You're the most perfect person I could ever imagine," Jason kissed the top of your head. You squeezed him a little tighter in response. "I can't imagine my life without you."

"Mmm, I love when you're in a sappy mood like this," you teased. Jason let you out of his hold so you could be eye level with him once more. He had a ridiculously happy smile on his face that wouldn't go away while looking at you - which only proved your point even more. "Makes me feel all special inside."

"I thought I made you feel pretty special last night," Jason retaliated. He dragged his hand down the side of your body until landing just barely on your ass. You rolled your eyes at him, but didn't disagree. “Every think about what life would be like if I gave up being the Red Hood?”

“Every day,” you admitted. It was hard seeing him run off to some sort of battle and unsure if he was going to make it back. As much as you loved him, you wanted stability. “But it’s something that I would never ask of you. Saving people means to much to you, I know that.”

“One day,” Jason began. He paused to kiss your lips, lingering there for not long enough. He glanced up from your pleading lips to your eyes that held so much adoration for him. Adoration that he sometimes didn’t believe he deserved. “One day, having a family with you is going to mean more than anything.”

“I look forward to that day, my love,” You smiled. Jason kissed you once more, pulling you closer, twinging your legs together. It was true, having a family with you was what drove him to be better every day. It was what drove him to get home every night.

Being with you, it was more love than he could ever ask for.

"Todd. (L/N)."

You nearly jumped at the sound of Damian's voice. He was standing in the door way of your room with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look pleased to there, nor the fact that both of you were naked still, even with the sheets covering you. Jason flipped around to face the door, and who was intruding on his time alone with you.

Damian was dressed in his civilian clothes and with his hair slicked back like this father. Bruce was always difficult to get along with, Jason's opinions on the man weighed to heavily for you. Damian, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy your presence quite a lot.

"How the fuck did you get in?" Jason asked. He made sure that security in your home was top of the notch, there was no way he was going to let something happen to you when he was gone. Jason looked between Damian and you, then proceeded to pull the blankets up higher on you.

"I gave him a key," You sighed, regretting your decision. Jason gave you a questioning look. "He broke my door! Twice! I was tired of having to pay for new ones."

"Why are you here, twerp," Jason reluctantly asked. The last thing he wanted was his morning with you to be ruined with the likes of his family. Especially Damian. Under the blanket, you grabbed his hand, hoping that he wouldn't do anything rash against the younger boy. You knew how irritating Damian could get.

"You're not answering your phone, any of them," Damian scoffed. He took another step into the room until noticing the clothes thrown on the floor. It took him a second to realize that both of you were in fact naked. Damian made a face and stepped back to his original place. "Father needs you."

"Yeah, well, I'm busy," Jason snapped.

"And I don't care," Damian narrowed his eyes. "Get up."

Damian slammed your bedroom door shut as he left your room. You and Jason both plopped back against your pillows. Jason rubbed a hand down his face in frustration. If Bruce was asking for his help, then it was obviously important. He never called otherwise.

Before Jason could even think about getting up, you hooked your leg over his and cuddled into his chest. He leaned down just enough to kiss you once more, prolonging it for as long as he possibly could. He didn't want to get up just to leave you, he does that enough as it is, this was supposed to be your time.

"I hate him," Jason muttered between several more kisses. Your hand resting on his chest glided up to his face, tracing the small scars that hadn't fully healed. Upon reaching one of the older, more emotional ones, he grabbed your hand and placed it flat against his cheek. "Forgive me? For leaving?"

"Always."

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd oneshot #jason todd x reader #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam one shot

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Note

What Ethan & Pooja AU is this? #OpenHeartAU

Selcouth (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set in Book 2, Pooja gets the recognition she deserves for solving Naveen Banerji's case.

Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet, marvelous🤎

A/N: Thank you so much @beastlyinstrument for the visual prompt❤ I had fun thinking up and writing this piece.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.2K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: 1 Curse Word (again 😆)

Prompts: Late Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge July challenge day 4: celebration

There was stark silence surrounding him as he scribbled out points from the morning meeting of the Diagnostics Team along with some of his own observations from the patient charts. The days have been nothing out of the blue since his return from the Cholera-ridden district of Amazons.

The steam from the warm coffee filled the entire office with its sweet aroma. With winters in their full force, there was a mystic chill all around the city and the warmth the coffee gave was extremely welcomed.

It took him 30 minutes to the tee to complete his morning paperwork. And as he arranged the white sheets in a clean stack, a slow groan escapes him. He had been so engrossed in work, that he had completely missed the fact that he had emptied his coffee cup.

Ethan looks up from his desk to the windows giving an enchanting view of the brumal grounds. Snowflakes, basking in the distant sun's glory, shining like iridescent jewels, fell slowly, silently to meet their origin.

It's too serene of a day to waste indoors.

The thought caught him somewhat by surprise, even if it was his encephalon producing it.

He had spent long years of his life away from focusing on diminutive happenings like the weather or the warmth of his favourite Vienna on a frosty day.

To appreciate the beauty of falling of the snowflakes today, was a slightly unusual change. He couldn't help but wonder as to what would have caused it.

He didn't need to wait long for an answer. Like a response to his unuttered query, the notification bell of his phone brought him out of his reverie and displayed her name with the joy of a student who had solved a difficult problem with ease on the first try. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just an email of her completed reports.

And yet, he was unable to control the breakout of butterflies in his stomach.

The feeling was orphic, and yet irenic.

As his heels tapped on the white floors, supposedly conducting an intriguing conversation with them, a faint intermix of voices reached him and stopped him in his tracks.

"You're wearing all black." It wasn't a question, but a fact that Alexandra's voice enunciated.

"Are you surprised?" A concordant voice questioned. Even if he didn't acknowledge it, it was one of his favourite euphonies.

"No. Impressed."

"I lost a bet to Bryce, and this is what I get in return." There is a pause. "It's a nice change though."

He can feel the smile that emerges out on her face at the end and feels his lips curl up, like a magnetic connection. He was caught off guard as he stood there thinking of the sweet nothings and sweet everythings of his reminiscences with her.

"Good Morning Dr Ramsey!"

It took him all his power to straighten himself, and to put on the stoic façade before responding,

"Good Morning Dr Walton."

Alexandra didn't initiate a conversation, just like he had expected. Bidding goodbye to her companion, she strode off her way.

Now, it was just him and her, standing in the middle of nowhere, eyes locked in intense focus, tied together with a string they find themselves unable to break.

She looked striking like she always did.

In every hue, every ensemble, at every hour, she knew how to induce that unnamed feeling in his heart.

All she had to do was to look at him the way she did, and his idiotic heart would skip a beat, and an ambrosial emotion would follow.

And what does one do when emotions go out of control?

Self Preservation.

Giving her a brisk nod, he dropped his gaze, hurrying away past her, not having the courage to look at the hurt caused.

Idiotic.

That's the only word he could use to describe his actions.

He could think of a trillion excuses, travel through a hundred bends on the roads of justification, but nothing would be enough to balance out the pain he was giving her. Not even his playlist of curses that he played in his mind every day to remind himself what he truly was.

An asshole.

As soon as his steps took him to the outdoors, the crisp cold winds blew through his hair, and he cherished the moment.

The apricity hugged him, and the scene that met his eyes, the world draped with a veil of phosphorescing snow, generated a euphoria he was unfamiliar with. As a minuscule flakelet fell on his outstretched hand, he realized that no one needs to spend a billion dollars to get happiness.

It is hidden amidst mundane things, and the only thing one has to do is to keep foraging for it.

Happiness can be made, it can be found. But can it be bought?

Never.

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

It was unusually calm at Derry's in the morning hours.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

In comfortable, long sips, he lets the caffeine overtake the tiredness and the heartache coursing through his body. The glare of the screen and ping of his cellular broke the aura of comfort that had spread out through the coffee shop. He wants to shut it off and throw it in a corner away from his sight, but decides against it.

It's a text from Naveen.

Skipping is not an option for today night!

A groan escapes him, the annoyance of another meet and greet taking away all the calm. He tried to convince him, but all efforts went futile. He plays the discussion all over again to find any loophole he can to escape the torture.

Flashback:

It's after hours and the wing of the hospital where Naveen's office was situated bore a silence. The amicable old man sat in his chair, leaning back as the younger one stood, with his back at him. It was obvious they had been arguing, but it seemed more like amusement for the old mentor and annoyance for the young protégé.

"There is no need-"

"Ethan, you have been repeating the same words for fifteen minutes now." Naveen chuckles.

"I very well know that there is no need for anything, dear friend. I just want a little bit of happiness and merriment in the hard times."

"I am not stopping you from doing that, Naveen, you know that. But what is the need of the celebration being about me?"

"Because you are a reason I am alive today." The man gives a melancholy smile, vision blurred as the near-death experience of the past year come sailing in front of him.

"This celebration is about you and Dr Sharma. Without the two of you, I would not have been here."

Ethan's features are clouded by the pain of losing his mentor, who has been like a father to him, and inspiration. His frown softens, annoyance long lost, as he comes as takes a seat and places his hand on his.

"Fine. I will do this. But only for you, okay?"

Naveen's lips curl up in a grateful, happy smile as if wordlessly conveying his thanks. As Ethan stands up and proceeds to leave, he cannot stop himself from laying out his observation,

"For her too."

And Ethan knew. He knew exactly whom this was about. And as much as he wanted to deny the assumption, he couldn't help but accept the truth in it. Of course, he was doing it for Naveen. But he was doing it for her too. She deserved it so much more than him. If she hadn't been there, the seat occupied by his mentor today would have been...

Flashback ends

As his eyes skim through the crisp pages of the medical journal absent-mindedly, he thinks of her again. The permanent occupant of his daydreams, who would still manage to come back, no matter how many resets he carried out.

He thinks of her attire from the hour before, hair in a neat long braid, dressed in a meticulously embroidered Indian attire. And then of the celebration at dusk, where she will finally receive the recognition she deserves.

All the doubts regarding her promotion to the Diagnostics Team would be washed away.

He remembers what she had told him a few days after he had heard those nasty rumours,

"I have proved myself and I know what's true. I don't need to show anyone else the testament of my abilities. As long as I am fair and just, their words can do no harm to me."

His admiration for her had increased phenomenally when she spoke those words to him.

His pride, his faith had not been misplaced when he picked her for the difficult voyage named Edenbrook.

He has never felt so proud of any other intern as much as he does of her.

His heart sings to him, his choice was correct. He doesn't let it elaborate itself, because one wrong move from his side would be more than enough to ruin this unpolished gem before she even gets a chance to shine.

Yes, he did tell her that some things are worth any risk, she is worth any risk, back in Miami. The reminiscences of the day still played on the screen of his mind in sepia, they lulled him to sleep.

But the risk to harm her fragile career before it even blossoms?

It wasn't just a risk, it was like a crime for him.

One which he refused to commit.

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

As dusk falls and winter blues colour the land of snow in multichromatic hues, hiding any bit of orange from the setting sun, Pooja Sharma hums along with her favourite songs as she dresses up for the special evening.

No matter how much she wants to curl up in the folds of the soft Cashmere, she has to be in attendance. It's a strict order from her grand mentor and impossible for her to go past.

It's all black day, she reminds herself when picking the outfit. And she doesn't forget to leave a thank you note for Lekh as she finds the perfect one.

And now, as she stands, trying to complete the arduous job of creating a perfect eyeliner wing, a certain someone's reminiscences trouble her pained heart.

No matter how much she scolds it for its stupidity, trying to explain the futility of the hope of getting together, it never heeds, just continues to trouble her with the baritone of his that enchants her mind, the cologne that overpowers all her senses.

As she looks at the reflection in the speculum, she cannot help but imagine his reaction.

Will she even get a reaction?

Maybe just a nod, or a look.

No words.

She has convinced herself with it. It took some time, some stops, some pulls of an invisible harness, but she has convinced herself.

She's stopped hoping, soothing herself with whatever they shared, memories that felt like they belong to a bygone era, and a promise of treasuring them, just in case he ever decided to come back.

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

In the vespertine hours, the diamond dust made the sun devoid city look like a fairytale. Any other time, he would have just worried about the sharp chill, probably cursing the snow.

Being so observant of the places he is a regular visitor at, it was a new experience for him.

Strange, even.

It's something that will take some time to get used to.

The interiors are warm. Minimally decorated, as he had requested. Not wanting to create a fuss, he bee-lines to the corner of the room, where the only occupant was emptiness. He decided to cherish the moments of solace before the bother of the vivacious crowd began, wanting to start a colloquy.

On instinct, he looks around, not being able to comprehend the reason why his heart leaps to his throat. And then a pang of disappointment overlaps that sudden nervousness.

The absence of one person, the feeling so profound.

It's magical.

Dangerous, but still, magical.

A mute scold follows. No matter how hard he tries, strives towards that unannounced aim of reset, his stupid heart and its childishness always ruin his plans.

The call of his name makes him turn around.

Naveen stands, jolly smile fixed in place, eyes sparkling with joy and...

Gratitude.

They chat, topics ranging from Diagnostic team cases to complaints of coffee. His orbs casually drift towards the entryway, in hope of seeing his dearest.

And as the astrologers say, the stars align, the universe comes into play, and the shimmer of black in the lambent atmosphere makes his heart skip a beat. He feels a smile emerging and hastily hides it with a scowl.

If he had to, he would have sworn that he looked like a clown.

Her ambers gaze around in a lucid, tender manner, in strike contrast to his a while ago.

There is a lack of haste, of worry, of unease.

Her very presence fills the air with tranquility and without his consent, his soul basks in it. After what felt like an eternity, their gazes meet.

Melt into each other like the wax of two candles.

Become inseparable.

She smiles, it's faint.

It seems more of a formality than a wish. The momentary cheer is replaced by a somber, melancholic expression. Her orbs drift away, gaze turns away as if to hide whatever was to come from him.

And he knows.

He's the reason.

Silence is suffocating, but right now, the chaos is even more constricting to him.

Everyone chatters, mingles, smiles.

Everyone except her.

She stands too still, flashing a half-hearted smile and half-hearted gaze here and there, as she is surrounded by the rest of her friends, preventing him from getting a better look.

As conflict rises in his interior, a to go or not to debate, the gulps of scotch become more frequent, the frown gets tighter and guilt gets heavier. Before he can drown down into the never-ending cascade of crippling self-hatred, there is a call of his name.

Naveen.

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

Claps and whoots surround her, along with a cheer. She becomes the recipient of numerous bear hugs, and compliments as Naveen elaborates on her contribution to his recovery. It feels like a reel of situations played from her sweven. It took a pinch for her to realize that it wasn't.

A mic tap follows, it's Ethan's turn to speak. She freezes upon hearing her name getting repeated again. There is an uncanny depth to it, she notices. An indication that it conceals so much more than is visible. Not just pride, not just intoxicating happiness.

Gratitude, raw and pure gratitude.

And something else (or maybe not?)

Her focus all over the place, she missed a lot of the address. What stayed carved in golden words was a single sentence, unremarkably remarkable.

"It's not me, it's her. I lost all hope, but she was the one who fought till the very end, never giving up, even if she had thousands of storms to navigate through."

"There can be only one recipient of the applause today, and it's Dr Sharma."

Two contrasting emotions put her in a dilemma. Whether to let the water drops she held strongly to herself or to let the heartfelt joy induce the grin that would shine brighter than the stars the twinkle along with the forlorn moon?

Unable to decide, she let the cracks in her stoic mask deepen, let the faint upturn of lips become visible to the world. Every applaud fell short, in a haze, as the mere words spoken mere moments before played in a loop like a soft harmony.

The 360-degree turn of the evening gave her the most unexpected and the most precious memories.

The change of the blithe chilly eve to heartwarming dusk.

Rare, mysterious and yet, magnificent.

Selcouth.

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

Ethan Ramsey, for the past decade of his extremely brilliant career, has never displayed even a minuscule amount of emotions. Never. The mask of stoicism fixed so perfectly, that no power could ever induce a crack in it.

No one could.

Until one day, an intern waltzed into his life like an unforeseen plot twist and induced changes no one ever could.

The mask has cracked, even if to a small degree, letting the minuscule details of a transformation out. Sometimes it could be as evident as a smile, or a genuine compliment to an intern. In other instances, it would be just the absence of the forehead frown (which had become a permanent resident at a point).

And now, the beloved plot twist of his novel stood before him, her eyes expertly decorated with kohl. She was quieter than usual, engaging in casual conversation, but prevented going into depths of it.

Their gazes never meet, only slide past each other.

He missed looking into the amber of hers, trying to figure out her thoughts like someone engaged with a very complex puzzle that ends up in a phenomenal picture.

He missed listening to her sweet whispers, mumbles which made him smile more than he had for the past decade.

He missed her.

The universe is always planning a conspiracy to make destiny true. And it's definitely an action of its, that his hand extends towards her, wordlessly.

She gazes at it, gazes at him, thinks for a while.

And finally, slips her hand, bejeweled with that bracelet she wore in Miami. He still remembers it placed on his heart, which beat at an erratic rhythm.

Which beats at an erratic rhythm now.

Looking at the Bostonian sky, only drapes of translucent mist could be seen all around. No twinkles, even the moonbeams were struggling to reach them. The silence is comfortable, only interrupted by the sips of steaming hot coffee.

Her eyes are fixed above, in a search for the hidden celestial elements. His focus stayed on the snowflakes resting on his jacket.

He leans back, places a hand down.

There is a lack of warmth.

Soon enough, another hand joins him.

The cold is gone.

And so is his search of moonbeams.

Her touch felt like light, his own moonbeam. So soft, so warm, so dear. Something he could keep etched on his skin forever.

She was his moon.

And for her, those summery blue orbs held depths of the ocean, the faint, soft wrinkles that languid years leave behind as a mark of their passing like map lines of some unknown lands.

He was her world.

In every universe, through trials and tribulations, through pain and smiles, they were destined to find their way to each other. No one powerful enough to keep them apart.

Not even they themselves.

It was a cosmic state of comfort they found themselves in. His hand in hers, their fingers interwoven, the reflex etched in his mind with an everlasting ink.

He has never believed in soulmates, but as he as leans back, eyes closed, hair fluttering along with the icy-cold breeze, having her by his side, he couldn't bring himself to believe this was anything less than destiny.

That even after so many trials of forgetting her, he would always come back to her, searching for the serenity he only finds in her presence.

The feeling is rare, confusing, maybe terrifying.

But right now, he basks in the warmth that it provides, all worries and all woes are hidden in a wooden box, discarded away from his sight. And unbeknownst to even him, he waits for the day he can kiss her the way he wants to, no ties, no binds holding them away.

Yes, he waits for the day.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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hopeamarsu · 3 years

Text

Of potions and myths - Chapter 4

William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader

Word count 3,6k

Warnings: Some insecurities, some angst, a lot of talking

A/N: We finally meet the elders and start to get into the bottom of what is happening. Basically a lot of talking happens.

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Six new people step inside Pope’s living room, making it feel very crowded. You watch them silently as they approach you, the hand on your hip tightening as the room settles. The connection feels frantic now, bouncing between your bodies as it tries to make sense of your emotions. He’s nervous, just like you are, you realize as you catalogue them. It feels daunting to come to this conclusion about the man who has kept a level head so far and has been a rock of calmness for you.

“Hmm… I sense a power in this room.” One of the elders speaks in a low tone. He steps closer to you, cocking his head to the side as his honey-brown eyes search for your soul inside. You refuse to back down, no matter how scared you are, and face him.

Will grips you tighter, his own eyes flashing to red quickly as the man comes closer and closer, until you are practically nose to nose. A warning growl rumbles out of his chest, but the elder only chuckles in response. He raises a hand to place it on Will’s shoulder and it looks like the Captain barely keeps himself in check and doesn’t bite the offending weight off.

“Calm down, William. I mean your mate no harm.”

Mate? What mate?

“What do you mean, mate?” Will asks, echoing your thoughts. The elder chuckles again before stepping back a little, releasing his hand on Will’s shoulder, and you can see the tension in his back muscles ease minutely. It’s still there, brimming under the surface, but now that the man has backed up, it’s easier to breathe.

From the corner of your eye, you see Pope, Frankie and Benny move closer to you, flanking your sides in support. This time Will doesn’t growl when Benny brushes your shoulder quickly with his own and you file the information for later investigation.

“I can feel the mating bond between you two. It’s very unusual that it’s even here, the bond hasn’t been recorded in centuries.” He muses and the others murmur something amongst themselves. They seem to converse in broken words and sentences, leaving you and Will and his brothers out of it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” You finally pipe up, growing more confused by the minute. Another elder steps forward and gestures for all to sit. “My apologies, my child. You are not one of us and this is something many of us have forgotten also since it’s been buried for so long.” She has a sweet voice, soft and calming. You feel somewhat better as she takes the lead.

“Please sit down. I will answer any questions you have, if you answer ours in return.”

You follow her words, pulling Will with you to the loveseat. Benny takes the armrest closest to you and Frankie the other, Pope choosing to remain standing behind you. Despite any worries or hesitations they might have of you, they will stand by their brother it seems and it warms you from inside out.

“Many centuries ago, the bond was a way of finding out the most compatible companion. A mate.” She begins.

”An unmated wolf would feel a pull, a connection, with the one best suited for them. The connection would grow over time, sometimes manifesting in the physical appearance of colored tendrils until a bond was fully formed. Mated couples often reported being able to feel extreme emotions from one another and if and when the other half of a mated pair died, the other never took another.”

So far you can tick off every box from the list. You chance a look at Will, but he’s looking intently at the elder speaking. As the crowd remains silent, she continues.

“But as the bond was so rare in the first place, it slowly became rarer and rarer as time went on and wolves stopped looking for the clues, finding alternative means of securing a partner. I think the last recorded bond between two people is over 300 years old. And it’s never been recorded between creatures either.”

She glances in your direction, her eyes knowing something that you don’t. You cock an eyebrow at her choice of words, but choose not to comment. Will also remains silent, not divulging your status which you are grateful of as the elder continues.

“The only thing that remains is that once a wolf has a partner, a mate, it is for life. Santiago, you are familiar with the wows of our clan when someone chooses a partner. Tenebo te in corde meo usque in sempiternum. Tu solus. The bond is where they originate from.” (I will hold you forever in my heart. Only you.)

You recognize the words to be Latin, though some of the meaning is lost on you. Judging by the sharp intakes of breaths from all the men around you, they are valued highly.

The elder isn’t finished yet though. Her eyes slowly turn yellow as she regards you. “How did this originate? How long have you felt this between you?” She asks gently.

“We met last night,” You tell her and witness several raised eyebrows as the timeframe registers. “He saved me from an, let’s call it an unfortunate event, and when we spoke outside, I started to feel this pull towards him. It’s hard to resist it and it grows as we become closer.”

“Closer?”

“For example, when we touch, skin on skin, there are these golden and silver tendrils all over our bodies.”

To demonstrate, Will traces your forearm with his finger and everyone in the room watches as a silver line appears, followed by a golden one. They dance and glow on your skin before disappearing after he lifts his finger off, fading away slowly. “The longer and more, uh, intimate the touch, the more vibrant the colors are. And the longer they stay visible.”

Pope coughs behind you and Frankie snickers at the words, but a sharp look from Will shuts both men up quickly. The elders seem nonplussed at the information, almost as if they were expecting it, and the man who previously studied you leans forward.

He starts firing off questions, about the intensity of the colors, the pattern and how long the tendrils stay on the skin after the touch ends and if you have any other symptoms. You and Will both try to answer as best as you can, with Benny piping up when it comes to the length of time but a lot of it is still shrouded in mystery.

It feels almost like an inquisition as the rest of the elders join in on the questions. You lose track of how many you answer and you can feel Will feel the same, the irritation running off him in waves. You talk about your past, your studies and your work, the emotions that have transferred over, how it affects you when the emotions hit you. You describe the dizziness, the magnetic pull, the happiness in the hum as you are close.

Will talks about his desire to protect, the warmth of the tendrils as they move on his body and the hunger that makes his wolf crawl and pounce in his chest, wanting to be let loose. He describes the anger he felt at the pub when he understood what would happen and the physical pull he felt to stay outside of your door and the worry he felt as your knees buckled when the wave of his emotions hit you.

When they are finally out of questions, you feel like slumping back to the couch in exhaustion. It’s almost like you’ve just ran a marathon and recited your entire dissertation at the same time. Benny hands you a bottle of water from the kitchen which you chug down eagerly, your throat parched. From the corner of your eye, you see Will do the same, emptying half of the bottle in a few gulps.

But there is something inside you, a question that burns in your mind that is begging to be let out. You turn towards the woman. “You spoke of the bond being between two wolves. But I am not a wolf, nor is anyone in my family. Actually, I’m nothing at all, just a mundane. Why has the bond decided to connect us?” Beside you, Will lets out a huff of disapproval, clearly disagreeing with your notion that you are nothing, but you ignore it now. You can grapple over details later.

“It’s a very good question, my child. But clearly the bond knows more than what we do now. The connection has always been rare and not all wolves experience it. So it’s not to say other creatures, or even mundanes such as you, experience it too but in a very rare form.” She looks at her peers, something flashing in her eyes before continuing hesitantly.

“Maybe…”

Will intejects quickly. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you need to try and complete the bond to see what happens. If it takes or if it was only a false alarm.” She offers finally, after a long moment of silence. You feel like the wind is knocked out of you. It sounds very ominous and there is even a chance that all this is for nothing? Your shock must show in your face, because she is hasty to continue.

“We are walking on uncharted territory here, so we don’t exactly know what is going to come once the attempt to complete the bond is made. So I would advise you to think carefully if you want to proceed with this. Once the decision is made, you would complete it here, within our pack grounds for safety.”

You mull over her words, trying to organize your thoughts. You feel Will reach out to you, surely with questions of his own but your next one slips out before you can fully comprehend the possible damage they might do.

“And should we want to break this connection?”

Your words hang in the air but it feels like a bomb has gone off. You feel Benny turn to look at you, his eyes burning on your face, and Pope lets out an involuntary sound of protest. The elders all look at you in surprise and you can feel your ears buzzing with static as they register what you just asked.

You start to open your mouth to explain you only want to know the options available but the body next to you jumping to his feet and stomping out of the house stops that in its tracks. You all watch as the broad shoulders disappear outside the house and a door slams in its wake.

You wince and hunch your own shoulders forward as you wish you’d stayed silent, maybe bought in your stones to help. You could really use a little extra now that the three men turn to look at you with disapproval.

Will doesn’t look at anyone as he rushes out, feeling the tightness in his chest spread rapidly. He can hardly breathe properly and as he leans over the terrace railing, he can feel the agitation of his wolf as the animal weeps and howls inside him.

He doesn’t see it but he knows that his eyes are flashing rapidly and he can feel the need to shift, to run and be alone in the woods. It itches under his skin, clawing out to change skin into fur and fingers into paws. He paces the porch, opening and closing his fists to stop himself from shifting in broad daylight.

Is he alone with his thoughts, his dreams, his hopes? Surely he must, because you can so easily ask about breaking the bond. Like this isn’t it for you like it is for him.

He knows it’s crazy to feel this way, to want something so big and grand after such a short time. He can’t help himself though and his wolf agrees; he’s fallen in love and he’s not going to change his mind.

It feels so different compared to all the times he’s had a girlfriend. Even the one time he had a fiancée, someone he thought he was ready to commit to, even then it didn’t feel like this. The burst of warmth he feels whenever you look at him, the undeniable pull he has when you aren’t touching each other and the mere idea that you don’t want this leaving a gaping wound on his heart. It has taken over him completely and he has willingly surrendered to it.

He thinks about his former lover, wincing at the final memory in the parking lot of Publix after the altercation, trying to find differences between that relationship and what is budding here.

Had the bond been there even then? Was that the reason his fiancée left, why he couldn’t calm himself down in her presence? Why she had to jump on his back and still it wasn’t enough to break his grip? Was he not damaged goods and a complete failure in love after all? Or worse yet, was he because it seemed so easy for you to talk about breaking the connection?

A soft tap on his shoulder makes him whirl around and face Frankie, who looks sheepish at being sent over to check on him.

“You good?” The other man winces when the words leave his lips, he can clearly tell from the agitated look Will is sporting that the blond man is definitely not good. He just shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, gazing off somewhere behind Frankie’s shoulder. Slowly Will gathers his thoughts, using the skills taught to him to place all his worries into tiny little compartments in his mind. He lets out a breath and counts them for later, before turning to his brother.

“Not really. Did the elders give out the instructions to break the bond yet?”

He sounds defeated even to his own ears but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Despite the want and need and desire to go all the way, whatever the completion of the bond means, if you won’t do it, neither will he. He won’t force it, never can and never will, and he will respect your decision.

“No. The elders are talking with one another now, gathering all the needed information so you can talk with your mate and make a choice. You know the question needed to be asked, deep down.”

“Yeah.” Frankie is right, Will admits to himself. The logical side of him wins out, but the sting of rejection is still there.

“At this point we don’t even know what it will take for you to try and complete it. But you acting like this, all out of character, doesn’t do any good. Your mate is just as distressed as you are about this, possibly even more considering this is all so new and unexpected, and I can smell the conflicted emotions on both of you. Find out the options, talk it out, make a decision together. It’s the only way any of this can work.”

“Mmmmm.”

“You know I’m right, hermano.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Fish, it won’t do you any good.” Will smirks as he claps his brother on the back and the other man only grins wolfishly in return before guiding them back in.

You sit and wait quietly inside, shoulders tight, mulling over your own thoughts. You wish you were with your books in your tiny cupboard of an office back at the museum, helping the elders figure it all out but you suspect that something this intimate would’ve been recorded into writing.

What does it take to complete a bond? You shift through your mind, trying to think of bonding spells but most of the ones you know only bind two inanimate objects to one another or help with the natural bond created in nature. Nothing about two humans, mythicals or not, connecting on a level deeper than normal. .

But would you want to break it or complete it? That is the million dollar question. Both surely have their risks but ultimately it is about if you want him in your life and if he has those same feelings. And your feelings are all jumbled up and you can’t help but to wonder if they are real or a byproduct of the connection.

As the two men return to the room and take their places, it feels icy cold when Will doesn’t touch you, choosing to sit as far as possible from you. You want to reach out, explain yourself and your thoughts, talk to him freely but he refuses to glance at you, keeping his head high and aimed forward. You are resigned back to silence as you wait for the elders to return with more news.

The only sound is the ticking clock on the wall as all of you are wrapped in your minds. It ticks forwards slowly but surely and as the hour chimes a change, one of the elders return into the room. He isn’t the one from before, but a short and stocky man with a gentle expression on his face and keen eyes, something that distantly reminds you of Pope. He faces your group huddled in the loveseat and behind it.

“May I speak to William and his mate alone?” He asks, aiming his words to Will’s brothers. They all nod and vacate the room with touches of support for him. Benny twists his body to hug Will, his eyes flashing blue again. He gives you a look, something that is hard to decipher, as he mumbles something into the older man’s ear before releasing him.

You both want to know what he said but also not. It can’t have been too good if his eyes changed. You have come to the conclusion the shift in color is triggered by something, maybe emotional triggers or more. Yet another thing you don’t understand yet, you think dejected.

Once the room is empty, the man sits in the armchair. He seems to ponder his words carefully, trying to decide the best course of action and you wait, holding your breath. The silence grates your nerves. If only you had your stones with you, but you hadn’t thought to pick them up. Usually you didn’t need them unless there was a special occasion and the whirlwind of the morning had swept you away. So you can only mumble out a small calming spell and hope for a placebo effect.

“We have a tentative idea of what the completion of the bond is. There are some details that are missing, but we are in talks with the other packs to fill them out. We also have an idea on how to proceed should you want to break it. But I must warn you, going down that road will be complicated and painful as it requires separating your souls and making sure they never reach out to one another again.”

The elder pauses, his eyes turning calculating. He looks at Will first and the man faces him head-on, the soldier inside him coming to life as he shuts down his emotions. His jaw is tight and his shoulders set, the air around him still.

You watch the transformation and when it clicks, it chills you to the bone. You are no longer in the presence of Will, but with Captain William Miller of the Delta Force. A man or wolf no more, but a war machine, with a single thought in his mind; to complete the mission. There are no if’s or but’s, he will take the instruction and decision and execute it to perfection.

The elder turns to look at you, his eyes searching for something in you. Whether he finds it or not, you cannot tell, but the elder breaks the connection after a while and turns away from you.

“To break it, you’ll each drink a potion every night for seven nights and on the eighth, you will perform a ritual to separate your souls from one another. After it is done, you’ll be escorted home and you can never return here. William, you will be escorted home also, but you cannot return to the places you’ve been together. For the rest of your lives, you’ll need to take extreme care not to bump into one another as it will be most painful if you do.”

He pauses as he lets the words sink in, watching with interest as the soldier listening to orders doesn’t flinch but you do, your eyes once again betraying the worry inside you.

“Should you want to complete it, you would need to make your souls bare and intertwine them to one another. This can be achieved by giving into these urges you feel.”

“Urges?” Will speaks finally, the word coming out clipped and void of emotion. You wince internally, but try to keep your face blank so as to not alarm anyone. If this is going where you think it is going, the next words will confirm your theory that sprung up in your mind as soon as the elder mentioned souls.

“You will need to be intimate with one another. As in have sex. And he will have to bite you as you reach an orgasm. This will bind you to one another for as long as you live.”

The shock on your face is clearly written as you fully understand the words and the meaning behind them. Wait, what? He’s going to bite you?

Of potions and myths taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess @luxmundee @innerpaperexpertcloud

Everything taglist (I fully understand if you want to skip this one, please let me know and I’ll remove you!) @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mariesackler @princessxkenobi

#william miller #will miller #william ironhead miller #will ironhead miller #will miller x f!reader #cw: mythical creatures #cw: werewolves #cw: dash of angst #will miller fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #my writing #charlie hunnam fanfiction

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vs-redemption · 4 years

Note

Omg can I get scenarios about how you think Fatgum and Mirio would react if they found out that their crush thought they didn’t like them?? 😭😭 ty!!!!! ❤️

From Cindy: Wowzer! I really liked this request but it took me a couple days to get some ideas worked out in my head. I’m happy with the way they turned out, and I hope you are too anon!!

A Crush?! (Fatgum x Reader) and (Mirio x Reader)

FATGUM

When Taishiro Toyomitsu first opened his hero agency in the lively city of Osaka, his first priority had been to hire a cook to work there. Because his quirk relied heavily on the amount of fat stored up in his body, it was important to have a constant source of food available. Snacks and small meals between and during patrols did little to keep him fully powered, so finding someone who could meet his extreme dietary needs was of the upmost importance.

The first few people he’d brought onto his team hadn’t worked out so well. Even though he had no complaints about their food, they just couldn’t seem to keep up with his immense appetite. They got too caught up in the presentation, plus the portions were just too small. When the BMI hero finally hired you right out of culinary school, he was relieved to find your approach to his food conundrum much more satisfying.

He never had to worry about going hungry when he got into his agency anymore. Not only did you made sure there was plenty of food readily available for him, but you also kept his diet balanced with healthy foods that contained enough calories to fatten him up for his patrols. The food itself kept Taishiro’s stomach happy and full, but the effort and care you put into your work definitely started having an effect on his heart too after a while. Your dedication to keeping him in top shape drew his attention until he found himself starting to look forward more to seeing and talking to you than even eating your delicious food.

Taishiro wasn’t the type to lie to himself about his feelings. He knew perfectly well that he’d developed a little crush on you. He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about confessing though, or if he even should. His schedule didn’t leave much time for dating, and he didn’t want to start something if he wasn’t going to be able to dote on you the way he was starting to desperately want to.

Little did he know, on the other side of things, you were struggling to deal with the feelings you had for him too. You had always thought your boss was a nice guy, but after seeing his jolly and friendly behavior every day, you couldn’t help the crush that had creeped up on you. You tried your best to put it out of your mind, assuming there was no way a great hero like Taishiro could return your feelings. It wasn’t as if he did anything to make you feel otherwise. He was as kind and encouraging to you as anyone else you’d seen him interact with. It was just that you knew the nature of your job made your personality come off a bit too overbearing to really spark a romance. You constantly berated yourself after each and every interaction you had with him, physically cringing as you remembered the nagging comments you’d made.

“I know you need the calories for your quirk, Taishiro, but don’t forget to eat some fruits and vegetables too.”

“Eat another bowl of rice, Taishiro. You never know when you’ll need that little extra push when fighting a villain.”

“Taishiro, don’t forget to take the leftovers with you in case you get hungry out there! It’s better for you than all that street food you’re always picking up on patrol.”

When you thought about it, you really pestered him way too much. Sure, it was your job to feed him, but still, he was a grown man. He didn’t need you bothering or lecturing like he was some kind of kid. The only reason you even acted the way you did was because you cared and worried about him, but how it came across was probably annoying and patronizing. This is why you were confident he’d never like you the way you liked him.

Eventually, the combination of your feelings for him and the concern over his impression of you becomes too much and you decide to confront him. You get to the agency early one day and make him some fresh jelly filled donuts.

“Hey! You hardly ever make stuff like this!” Taishiro chuckles, “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s my way of saying thank you for putting up with me,” you shrug awkwardly. “I know I’m a bit of a nag sometimes.” Your words take the hero by surprise.

“I don’t think you’re a nag at all!” He sounded upset to hear you say that. “I hope I never gave you the idea that I did.”

“No,” you shake your head. “You didn’t… I just figured you were nice to me just to be polite.”

“What?” Taishiro shakes his head, “You couldn’t be further from the truth. If I’m being honest, I’ve actually developed quite the soft spot for you.” You look up into his eyes, a feeling of hope spreading through you.

“Yeah,” Taishiro laughs and scratches the back of his head bashfully. “I guess you could say I have a bit of a crush on you.” The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and you couldn’t be happier.

“I…” You hesitate for a moment but then give in. “I have a crush on you too! I have for a while. I never dreamed you could feel the same way.” The smile that stretched across the hero’s face warmed your heart.

“How could I not feel the same way?” He chuckles while patting his large belly. “I’ve never met anyone else who could keep both my stomach and my heart so full.” His words were music to your ears. And now that you both were on the same page about your feelings, you could sit down together and start discussing important questions about the future, like where he was going to take you on your first date.

MIRIO

Getting a job as a server at the mundane little diner on the outskirts of town had only meant to be a temporary gig to help you save up some extra money for school. Your campus was just a short train ride from the restaurant, and your apartment was even closer. It wasn’t glamorous or anything, but it paid the bills. Besides, it was just a stepping stone in the path to your dream job, so you were more than willing to deal with it until a bigger more fulfilling opportunity came along.

What you hadn’t expected after starting the job was that you’d be terrible at it. You didn’t realized how bad your short term memory was until you found yourself forgetting people’s orders, or taking meals to the wrong tables. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also had a hard time balancing plates of food and were always dropping glasses and silverware accidentally. Luckily, your boss was a pretty chill and forgiving person and hadn’t felt the need to fire you yet. You really didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding another job, so you continued doing the best you could each and every day.

A few weeks after being hired, you started to feel the tiniest bit more confident about your abilities as a server. At the very least, you were getting better at remembering orders. Thankfully, there were a lot of regulars that got the same things every time which made your job easier. You were just starting to get into a comfortable routine when life decided to throw you a curveball. There was no way you could stop yourself from tripping over your own feet and almost spilling some poor customers breakfast all over the floor when you saw the pro hero, Le Million, walk into the diner with one of his hero friends. Thankfully you managed not to fall on your face or drop any food. Your relief was short lived, however, when Le Million walked right over and took a seat at a table in your section.

You knew it was going to be a disaster as soon as you walked over and forgot what you should even do. Being so close to Le Million was triggering a meltdown in your brain. He was your favorite hero and you honestly had a huge crush on him. Having him looking right at you with those cheerful blue eyes and wide friendly smile was extremely overwhelming.

“Uh…” You stood there blankly with the pen and pad in your hand.

“I think we’re going to start with something to drink!” Le Million speaks up with a light laugh which sparks you back to life.

“Ok, right!” you shake your head and try to focus. “What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have coffee,” he says before gesturing to his companion. “I think you usually take hot green tea right?” The friend nods so you write the order down.

“A hot green tea and a coffee for Le Million,” you mumble without meaning to.

“Oh, I’m on my lunch break!” he corrects you with a grin. “So, you can call me Mirio.”

“Right,” you nod excitedly. “Mirio”

You do your best to function as you continue to serve him. You somehow bring black tea instead of green, but Mirio just waves off the mistake with a wave of his hand. You swear you write down the correct order for him word for word, but humiliation consumes you when his friend points out that there were tomatoes on his hamburger even though he’d asked for none. You offer to bring him a new plate but he tells you it’s unnecessary. He doesn’t even pick off the tomatoes before taking a huge bite.

When Mirio and his friend finally leave, you feel yourself deflate. You were thankful the embarrassing experience was over, but part of you wished you’d made a better impression. The universe must’ve been out for you because the next day, it decided to grace you with a second chance. Mirio walked back into your diner with his friend, taking the same table as the day before. You tried to do a better job at serving him this time but you still fumbled a few things. This continued for a few weeks. For some reason, Mirio kept coming back and sitting in your section. You had no idea why since he must be sick of your horrible service by now. You tried to think of a logical explanation for a while, but always came up empty.

“Um, Mirio,” you tell him one day as he hands you the money to pay for his bill. “I know I’m not the best server in the world, so you don’t have to sit in my section every time.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to talk to you!” Mirio replies instantly, looking taken aback by your words.

“Oh,” you hadn’t expected a response like that. “But I always mess up your order.”

“That’s all right!” Mirio perks back up, “As long as you keep doing your best, that’s what matters! Plus, I’ve been sort of biding my time, looking for the right moment to ask for your number. I think you’re really cute.” He winces a little bit as if preparing for rejection. The confession startles you and you somehow end up missing his hand while giving back his change, causing coins to scatter across the counter. Mirio just smiles and helps you pick it all up.

“I can really give you my number?” you ask in shock once the money is back in his hands.

“Yeah!” He assures you, “As long as I’m allowed to call it!” You felt yourself blush, but managed to stay calm enough to grab a napkin and scribble your number down. Mirio thanked you before heading out with his hero friend to go back on patrol. It was less than a minute later when your phone buzzed in your pocket with a message from your hero crush.

It said, “I can’t wait to see you again tomorrow!”

You’re still in a state of shock as you hug your phone to your chest. You’d initially taken the diner job as a way to save money for school, but maybe fate had brought you here for something else entirely.

#mirio x reader #fatgum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #bnha x reader #mha x read #togata mirio #Taishiro Toyomitsu #bnha #mha #writing requests #cindy's writing

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 4 years

Text

Take Your Father to Work Day (S2, E4)

As many people have said: This is one of the STRONGEST Prodigal Son episodes to date. It was incredible. My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below.

I reference Malcolm’s mental health and sexual violence in this one. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:16 - OMG. Destiny’s Child. Whoever is in charge of the soundtrack for this show needs a raise. Or an award. It’s SOO GOOD.

0:18 - How great is this montage of Martin’s prison life too? I mean the insane mundanity of it combined with “Survivor” and Michael Sheen’s incredible acting is some perfect mix between hilarious, captivating, and just brilliant.

1:06 - I feel so bad for Mr.David. He has to deal with Martin’s theatrics every day. Poor guy looks done in this episode.

1:35 - CAN HECTOR BECOME A BIGGER CHARACTER?! PLEASE. He’s hilarious and I love him. “Bro. You got your ass jumped at Sunday School.”

2:09 - Wait. What? Jerry’s getting released?!? I mean, I understand that he’s no longer in need of psychiatric care......but he still killed someone. Shouldn’t he just be getting transferred to a different prison?

2:25 - Does Jerry have a death wish?!?! He’s talking about being released in a room full of jealous murderers. Everyone looks sooooo pissed at Jerry.

2:54 - Martin is such a liar. However - Michael Sheen’s performance is astoundingly good. Like he shines brighter than usual in this episode.

3:17 - Poor Malcolm. “What’s going on?” Poor boy looks terrified.

3:23 - I love everything about this scene. I love how freaked out Malcolm is. I love you extra Jessica is. BUT HANS. Holy shit. I want Hans in every episode. He’s crazy in a good way and such a beautiful comedic relief.

3:30 - OMG. “Skinny milennial” might be the best thing anyone has ever called Malcolm. Someone please tell JT and Dani - hell, even Gil. They would tease him forever and I want to see it.

3:45 - 1) Malcolm is a terrible liar. 2) Jessica knows he’s lying. 3) This story about the wine is interesting. I wonder when and how Malcolm first told Jessica the story. Was it the same night? AND HOW DID ENDICOTT’S BODY END UP IN ESTONIA?!? I WANT MORE INFORMATION ABOUT THAT NIGHT.

3:54 - “Ainsley and I came back from the hospital after Gil’s stabbing.”....we never saw Ainsley at the hospital. Was she there and left before Malcolm got there? Or is this a plot hole I need to ignore?

4:05 - The way that the flashbacks of Endicott’s murder is spliced into this scene with Malcolm’s cover story is so perfectly executed. It’s so captivating and so so well done.

4:14 - Malcolm’s eyes look quite manic during the retelling of this story. Poor guy is desperate to have everyone believe the story. Poor guy probably wants to convince himself that the story is true.

4:16 - Wait. What? Ainsley has always been clumsy? .....interesting. I’ve seen no evidence of it but I’ll believe it for the sake of the plot.

4:23 - “At least one of you has a soul.” Holy shit. hahaha Hans is brutal. I love him so much. I also love how this line makes me, as a viewer, think “does that mean the writers want me to think that Ainsley doesn’t have a soul?” ...or more likely that she doesn’t feel emotion (which can be interpreted as a lack of a soul). That she’s a psychopath like Martin?

4:27 - OMG. Jessica loves Hans. He speaks to her dramatic rich woman soul. So entertaining.

4:30 - Poor. Malcolm. This boy is always in some sort of emotional turmoil. For once I wish he was happy (but also I love the emotional whump so if that could continue that would be great).

4:44 - “It’s so much more than that.” *chef’s kiss* comedic genius. I would watch a whole episode of Mr.David making fun of Martin. But can we all just take a minute to appreciate that Martin doesn’t seem bothered at all that Mr.David is basically verbally telling him that he sucks? It’s almost like Martin thinks they’re friends?

4:50 - Martin is strangely chill talking to Mr.David in this scene. It’s a little off-putting. He almost seems normal. He’s not putting on his usual theatrics or ranting about doctor stuff. It makes you wonder how many different sides of Martin that Mr.David has witnessed.

5:01 - “Oh no. Not Jerry.” LMAO. HOLY SHIT. Michael Sheen needs an Emmy. His delivery of that line might be the funniest thing this show has ever given us. hahahahaha

5:29 - Damn. This is not Gil’s month. First Jessica dumps him. Then he has to deal with Martin Whitly in the flesh. That plus the on-going drama of worrying about Malcolm’s mental health and the stress of reintegrating into work after a STAB WOUND.

5:31 - Gil’s face. hahahahaha he’s like, “Kill me. This can’t be happening. I hate everything. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole.”

5:37 - “Yeah. Why’d you do it?” GIL. OMG. I’m so proud of Gil for dissing Martin to his face. BUT ALSO I worry that that’s going to give Martin more of a reason to hate Gil. I’m genuinely scared that the writers have Martin escaping as the pre-finale episode and Martin trying to kill Gil as the finale. Maybe Gil shows up trying to save Malcolm, AInsley, and Jessica (whom Martin is trying to abduct or hurt or something) idk I just feel like it’s going to be a likely subplot somewhere. I don’t want an attempt on Gil’s life to become a season finale tradition.

5:56 - Ew. “Gilly” That is a terrible nickname. I think I threw up a little.

6:00 - Damn. I love this scene. I could watch Martin and Gil pretending to be civil to each other for years. So entertaining.

6:29 - hahahahaha OMG. Gil’s reaction to Martin saying, “Thank you” PLUS Edrisa’s sudden excitement at realizing she’s 10 ft away from Malcolm’s Dad - a medical legend, is magical.

6:35 - Not gonna lie. When Edrisa said, “Ok. I’m gonna play it cool.” I had to pause my TV and walk away to calm down. I was experiencing a mixture of second hand embarrassment for Edrisa’s inevitable behaviour, excitement for what is to come, and fear that Martin would be a jerk to our precious Edrisa.

6:44 - Edrisa and Martin interacting was everything I’d hoped. It was strange, funny, sweet, and disturbing at the same time. The sweet, eccentric girl who attends cuddle parties is getting buddy-buddy with a literal serial killer. Hilarious. Even better is Gil’s background reactions as he desperately tries to keep Edrisa away from the psychopath. hahaha <3

7:12 - Gil is currently living in a nightmare. hahahahaha

7:47 - I love this. I love how Malcolm and Ainsley interact. Malcolm is such a good big brother. IDK something about these two adult siblings chilling on a couch and warning each other about Mom’s current rampage reminds me of myself and my younger brother. <3 Warms my cold dead heart. <3 PLUS has anyone else noticed that (as long as Ainsley isn’t hounding Malcolm about a story or airing out his mental health diagnoses like the bs from Q&A) Malcolm is extremely calm around Ainsley. Like maybe the calmest we’ve ever seen him?

8:20 - “Oh Ainsley, that’s a horrible idea.” This is adorable. Malcolm is totally acting like Ainsley’s surrogate dad. He’s trying so hard to protect her. <3

8:42 - There’s something about the way that Malcolm says, “Hey Gil” that makes my heart swell. Idk why. I just their father/son relationship. So much. And it makes me so happy to see Malcolm having semi-normal interactions with people in general.

8:48 - This. Is. The. Funniest. Episode. Of. Prodigal. Son. To. Date. Holy shit. The comical dread on Malcolm’s face. Martin’s glee on the phone. Gil’s general “done with life” body language. Ainsley’s utter joy at her luck. MALCOLM DRAINING THE ALKA-SELTZER. Ainsley saying “chug chug”. So perfect.

9:27 - Is it just me or has Jessica been showing way more concern for her children’s well-being this season? At first I thought it was because she was so happy with Gil....but that’s not a thing anymore (because Jessica is a MORON - seriously if this show gets cancelled before Gil and Jessica are living happily ever after I will riot) so now Idk.

10:02 - EDRISA WHY DID YOU NOT TELL GIL AND MALCOLM THAT THE SURGEON WAS ON THE PHONE?!? For a hot second, poor Malcolm looks like he thinks he’s hallucinating.

10:40 - Gil hanging up on Martin and then telling Edrisa that she needs to make new friends is everything. It’s vicious. Gil looks absolutely furious in this scene and I love it.

11:07 - Yo. Edrisa’s got some baggage. hahaha Malcolm looks soooo uncomfortable with her outburst.

11:18 - I would pay good money to watch Martin and Gil have a pissing match in front of Malcolm every episode. It’s amazing. They’re constantly trying to one-up each other. The tension is palatable. And someone Malcolm is the only one acting like a mature, working adult. Malcolm. My mentally unstable, skinny millennial.

11:34 - OH SHIT. Martin did not just bring Jessica into this. Oh SNAP. Does Martin know that Jessica dumped Gil?!?

11:56 - “I’m going to need a little more than that.” Damn. Malcolm looks pissed here. Pretty sure he hates that Martin just brought up Gil/Jessica. Malcolm’s bio-dad and real dad are fighting and it’s very clear that Malcolm is on Gil’s side.

12:17 - The look that Gil and Malcolm share here is perfect. I love it so much. You can see how annoyed they both are, how much they hate that they need Martin on this case, how much neither of them want Martin’s help. <3

12:23 - SOMEONE GIVE GIL A MEDAL. This man just grit his teeth, smiled, and let MARTIN WHITLY - the man who tried to KILL HIM work on his case. Why? Because Malcolm silently asked him to. Because Gil loves Malcolm and knows that it’s better for Martin to work with them officially than for Malcolm to work with Martin in secret. At least this way he can look out for Malcolm.

12:42 - “It’s taken Dr. Marsh years...” soooo was Dr. Marsh the name of the Asian doctor leading group therapy last season? Is this just a new actor, same character scenario? OR am I supposed to forget that Asian doctor existed last season?

13:04 - I can’t tell if Gil hates this whole “father-son in group therapy idea”. He looks kind of like he hates it (although he is looking at Martin in the shot). I’m inclined to think that Gil is worried. He doesn’t like how nice Martin is acting toward Malcolm. He doesn’t want Malcolm to get hurt again. BUT I also think there’s probably a part of Gil that thinks group therapy might be beneficial for Malcolm’s mental health? I mean it was only ever going to be terrible or amazing. Nothing in between.

13:12 - “They hate you don’t they?” GIL BRINGING THE FIRE. hahahaha angry Gil is really funny.

13:43 - OH HELL YES. More Hector. <3

13:46 - hahaha YES. Hector this is Malcolm - the son. You know, the one you had to role-play? hahaha I feel like Hector is a really cool dude (aside from the murder).

13:53 - Damn. Hector pays attention in group. He has a lot of info about Malcolm. I would’ve thought the other inmates would just tune Martin out when he starts his monologues.

13:59 - “He’s got a thing with hands?” hahahaha OMG. How did I never connect the hand thing. DOES Malcolm have a thing with hands? ....I kind of want that to be cannon?

14:00 - “You’re crazier than me.” Ouch. That must’ve hurt. Think about it - Malcolm is ridden with guilt about Endicott. He’s haunted by what he experienced as a kid and by what his father is. Malcolm believes he’s broken beyond repair. On some level Malcolm thinks he’s crazy. Now a literal killer just told him he’s crazy. That just affirms what Malcolm already believes about himself. :( PLUS right after Hector tells Malcolm that he’s crazy - the camera pans to Martin. MARTIN looks scared. Martin is losing control of the situation and he doesn’t like it. Martin knows on some level that he ruined Malcolm’s mental health. He almost looks a little guilty?

14:31 - FINALLY. We have a cannon occurrence of someone calling Malcolm “Mal” (or “Malc” if you’re going by HULU’s subtitles?). I hope the writers start having people call Malcolm by Mal/Malc more often.

14:35 - I can’t ignore it anymore. DID HECTOR HAVE THAT SCAR ON HIS FACE LAST SEASON?!? I DON’T REMEMBER IT.

14:38 - YES YES. Malcolm looks angry. I LOVE IT. Scream at him Malcolm! Give him hell!

15:03 - Yikes. Malcolm sounds like he’s about to cry here. :( My heart breaks for him. .....I wonder if this is the first time Martin has ever heard how much pain he caused Malcolm straight from Malcolm? Martin looks hella uncomfortable here.

15:25 - The inmates (literal murderers) empathizing with Malcolm is twisted, beautiful, and haunting. These guys understand how much it sucks to hang out with Martin. These guys can see the real pain in Malcolm’s expression. They know he isn’t lying. Part of me honestly wonders if one of them is going to try and hurt Martin for Malcolm. They looked pissed enough by the end of the conversation that I kind of believe they might.

16:00 - Malcolm is not acting here. For once he’s not projecting his problems onto potential suspects. He’s just venting to suspects. No pretence. I love it. BUT 100% of me wants to know where Gil is during this session. Is Gil listening? Is the session being recorded for evidence? There’s no way Gil (or Dani) wouldn’t confront Malcolm about this. Even if they just asked him if he’s okay.

16:10 - hahahaha look at Doctor Marsh. He’s like “ooookkkkkaaaayyyy. I’m a psychiatrist in a psychiatric facility for people who have committed violent crimes. BUT THIS IS THE NUTTIEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN.”

16:12 - Look at the way Martin narrows his eyes. He’s trying to figure out if Malcolm is acting. He’s finally realizing that Malcolm truly hates what Martin subjected him to as a child. I honestly think this interaction will cause Martin to shift his “become a murderer like me” agenda from Malcolm to Ainsley. He’s finally seen the depth of Malcolm’s hatred and pain and knows deep down that Malcolm will never turn into a serial killer. But there’s still hope for Ainsley. That’s not to say that Martin won’t stop gaslighting Malcolm - he totally will.

17:10 - Martin has been at Claremont for 20 YEARS. How is it that he didn’t know a gold card existed?!?

17:21 - I honestly thought Marsh was going to get shanked. For the gold card. No other reason.

18:07 - It’s not supposed to be funny but Burt freaking out and punching Marsh is HYSTERICAL. hahahahaha

18:10 - That guard who pushed Malcolm out of the room and into a safe area? He’s in my good books. Every time I watch him push Malcolm to safety I want to give him a hug. Just for doing his job. What the hell is wrong with me?!?

18:18 - UGH. I hate that creepy, satisfied look that Martin gives Malcolm. It’s the same look he gave baby Malcolm in the pilot. It’s the “we’re the same” look and it clearly bothers Malcolm. :(

18:26 - Oh look. 18 minutes into the episode and we finally have a Dani appearance!! annnnnnd no mention of JT. I mean, I get it. He’s on paternity leave. I’m happy for him. BUT TWO EPISODES WITHOUT A JT APPEARANCE IS TORTURE. At least give me a throw away line about how happy JT is or about the baby!?? Honestly - it’s my biggest gripe with this episode.

18:56 - soooo either Dr. Marsh is a terrible psychiatrist OR you can’t “cure” murderers.

19:08 - The NYPD knows that Martin cured Jerry?!? HOW? Did Mr. David get Martin to admit to shocking him? Did Mr. David tell the police?!? I don’t remember Martin telling Malcolm. I specifically remember Malcolm saying, “I don’t want to know”

20:02 - Damn. I want Ainsley to go dark so badly. I want to see how badly it would destroy Malcolm and Jessica. I am evil.

20:52 - Malcolm’s burgundy jacket is gorgeous. That is all.

21:10 - Malcolm knows that Martin wants to escape. This is good. I love this.

21:55 - THERE’S A WOMENS WARD?!? REVOLUTIONARY INFORMATION. I THOUGHT THEY HAD A SEPARATE HOSPITAL.

22:00 - Oh wow. Finally - a perk to gender inequality.

22:52 - This Brightwell scene is so cute. I love watching Malcolm be excited about solving the crime. I love watching Dani gently tease him about how weird he is. I love watching them subtly flirt. Is Malcolm ready for another relationship - hell no. Do I think Dani has forgiven him - not totally. If they got together now it would end badly. But I do want them to be endgame.

23:11 - Andre is really suspicious throughout this whole scene. I’m convinced that if Dani and Malcolm weren’t too busy flirting Andre would’ve become a suspect really fast.

23:15 - Why do people get released from psychiatric prisons?!? This is a genuine question. I would’ve thought that everyone in Claremont has committed some seriously heinous crimes and only a very small portion of them are actually sick. The rest of them just pleaded insanity and had good lawyers. But even if they are/were sick. I don’t think the types of mental illnesses that drive people to murder and/or rape is something that can be cured. Sooo why are they getting released? I guess I just wonder because there’s this guy that’s been in my local news on and off for like 10+ years. He’s molested/raped many young women between the ages of about 16-25. He’s been arrested and released multiple times. He keeps getting released to different major cities in my province (usually a city with a big University) and reoffends within 6 months of being released. Most recently he was arrested last month after being released in October 2020. Clearly he’s going to keep reoffending - so why does he keep getting released? I guess I just don’t understand what the criteria are that allow an inmate who has committed that sort of crime to be released. Here’s a link to one of the more recent news stories if you’re interested: https://vancouverisland.ctvnews.ca/police-warn-of-high-risk-sex-offender-moving-to-victoria-1.5149264

23:23 - hahaha Andre is like, “Yo. This dude is freaky.”

24:15 - Look at how proud Malcolm is of his whole “lobster = murderer” profile. <3 So freaking precious. <3 and Dani looks so amused with him. <3

24:37 - Sooooo Mr. David isn’t listening to this conversation? He left the room?

24:40 - Jessica going to Martin for parenting help is terrifying. This is a woman in crisis.

25:20 - But Jessica was right to be paranoid in 97′. She wasn’t being cheated on romantically but her husband was murdering people.

25:24 - Martin is so selling his kids out here. He knows it. He doesn’t care. He’s having too much fun torturing Jessica. He’s rejoicing at the fact that he gets to play the “I turned the kids to the dark side” card.

26:40 - Poor Jessica. She looks suspicious and scared. Scared that she raised a killer even though she tried desperately to prevent that very behaviour.

26:56 - Damn. Martin is having a really good day. First he gets to annoy Gil Arroyo in the flesh. Then Edrisa talks medical with him. Then he gets to work with Malcolm. THEN his ex-wife calls him and he gets to toy with her mind. THEN his daughter, who has literally murdered someone comes to visit him. He is a proud Dad right here and he’s having an amazing day.

28:00 - Rhonda is terrifying. This girl has perfected the “I’m sweet and unthreatening” while lying and manipulating people. I swear she’s a teenage Queen B personality with a side of violence.

28:30 - I love how protective Malcolm is of Ainsley. Look how positively livid he is that Marin is talking to her. Malcolm is terrified that Martin is going to purposefully and successfully turn Ainsley into a serial killer. Malcolm doesn’t want to lose his sister. He doesn’t want Jessica to lose her ‘stable’ child.

29:09 - This scares me. This is the kind of Ainsley behaviour from last season that made me believe she is the Whitly child most like Martin. Her ruthlessness and lack of a conscience when it comes to looking for a news story is extremely upsetting.

30:11 - What the hell happened to Tevin? AND WATKINS?!? We got no closure on those guys. Are they dead? In prison? Is Tevin still in Claremont? Were they transferred to facilities outside of New York State?

30:28 - Malcolm yelling at Martin is perfect. *chef’s kiss* Finally this boy is being honest with his father and he isn’t holding back.

30:40 - Michael Sheen is an incredible actor. This is an Emmy worthy scene. By Sheen AND Payne.

30:48 - I love how you can see Mr. David just chilling. Sitting outside the door and staring across the hall during this scene. It’s just....can’t he hear the screaming?!? Is he just like, “I can’t take anymore of this today. Not my circus and not my monkeys.”

30:55 - Soooooo this is Martin showing his true colours. There’s definitely a part of Martin that hates Malcolm. I honestly wonder if that part of Martin actively tries/tried to emotionally torture Malcolm now and throughout his childhood.

31:00 - “And your mother. And you ruined HeR!!!”....does this mean Martin was trying to make Ainsley a serial killer? Maybe after the camping trip when he realized Malcolm was too “weak” to kill anyone? Is this Martin saying that Ainsley is ruined because she didn’t become a serial killer? Or that Ainsley is ruined because she killed Endicott?

31:05 - “But that’s not me.” hahaha OMG. Michael Sheen just flipped between two personalities like nobody’s business. Respect.

31:08 - Martin’s outburst hurt Malcolm. Badly. You can see it all over his face. Even now, when Malcolm is being strong and showing some backbone to Martin, Martin can wound Malcolm with a single phrase. :(

31:41 - soooo where has Gil been for the past 10 minutes of this episode?

32:02 - Sooooo did Andre kill Jerry for Rhonda? Or did he just know about the murder and keep quiet for Rhonda? Or is his oblivious to the fact that Rhonda killed Jerry? I’m honestly confused here.

32:20 - Holy shit. Rhonda is crazy. Andre is dead now. Right?

32:48 - Wait. Why did Andre have a gold card? Mr. David only has red. What kind of qualifications does a guard need to get a gold card vs blue, green, or red?!?!

32:55 - Claremont isn’t a punishment for Martin. Solitary is. Martin should live in solitary. He deserves to suffer for his crimes (and the ongoing torture of his son).

33:05 - How messed up is it that Mr. David’s job is to protect a serial killer? I don’t think I’m brave enough to do something like that. I also don’t know if I could do that for moral reasons.

33:14 - Damn. That elevator looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since it was installed. It’s sooo much nastier than the hallway outside of the elevator.

33:50 - Sooo does this mean Martin is eventually going to try and murder someone down here?

33:54 - HE CALLED FOR BACKUP <3 <3 <3 OUR BOY IS GROWING UP AND I’M SO PROUD. <3

35:40 - FINALLY SOME MALCOLM WHUMP. <3 THIS SEASON HAS BEEN LACKING IT.

36:00 - This is really interesting to me. I honestly wonder if Martin has some sort of split personality disorder (personality #1: murderous, selfish, psychopath; personality #2: loving, concerned father and lawful doctor). You can see how desperately he wants to escape. But also how much he loves his son. I honestly thought he was going to leave Malcolm to die.

36:06 - Ugh. Look at his whumped face. <3 <3 <3 ....one thing that I couldn’t stop thinking during all the tazing (which was amazing FYI, I’m not complaining) is this: in QxA (1x07) Mr. David says that he only has a single shot tazer. Why did Andre have a multi-shot tazer? Is this a gold card vs red card thing?

36:40 - WHY THE EFF DOES BACKUP NOT INCLUDE GIL?!?! I KNOW HE’S STILL IN THE BUILDING.

37:03 - MARTIN, IF YOU TOUCH A HAIR ON DANI’S HEAD I WILL PERSONALLY HUNT YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU MYSELF. He honestly looks like he wants to murder her.

37:50 - Martin’s speech is not going to help Malcolm’s mental state. At all.

38:31 - No. No. No. Martin you do NOT get to talk to Dani on a first name basis. Look at how much Dani hates it.

38:35 - I love how soft Malcolm looks as Martin lifts him up. Look at how Malcolm gently leans into the touch. It breaks my heart. After 20 years Malcolm is still comforted by physical contact with his father. :(

38:37 - “Put your hands on me again Dr. Whitly, and I’ll blow your head off.” OH HELL YES. Dani is my hero. Iconic. Also - anyone else notice that Dani is chewing gum in this scene (I don’t think she’s chewed gum on camera since the pilot?) it makes her look like so much more of a badass in this scene.

38:55 - Oh look. The rest of the backup finally showed up. Where were these assholes 5 minutes ago when DANI WAS ALONE? AND WHERE IS GIL?!?!

39:00 - Malcolm thanking Dani is so so precious. And the fact that he’s clearly struggling to breathe and stay conscious is giving me life. ALSO Dani saying, “YOU’re welcome.”?!? *chef’s kiss* :) :) <3

39:30 - So Malcolm definitely knows that Martin almost left him to die so that Martin could escape.

39:33 - ......Ainsley is currently living with Jessica. Why is Ainsley not at the family dinner? We literally see her in the house in like 30 seconds.

39:35 - Malcolm in a polo shirt. Malcolm in a polo shirt. Why is it so attractive?!? He looks like a baby cinnamon roll? <3

39:51 - WHO THE EFF LET AINSLEY INTO THE MURDER BASEMENT?!? WHY AM I EXPECTED TO BELIEVE THAT JESSICA DIDN’T RE-SEAL IT AFTER WATKINS?!?!

40:15 - Jessica desperately tearing apart the living room is heartbreaking. :(

40:29 - Question: Did Jessica send her staff home before she tore apart the living room? Because I can just imagine two of them staring into the living room from the hall like, “She’s finally snapped. Should we call someone?”

41:00 - Jessica is the queen of drama. HOLY SHIT. This reveal was so extra and so perfect.

41:13 - “I killed him.” “You’re lying.” I love this interaction between Jessica and Malcolm. Malcolm has spent his whole life trying to convince people that he’s not a murderer. To protect Ainsley, his baby sister, he will say the words “I killed him”. Even though that is literally killing a part of Malcolm. Jessica knows it. I love that Jessica can see that Malcolm is lying. She’s not trying to convince herself that he’s innocent. She literally just accused him of murder. She’s scared. Because Malcolm just admitted to killing someone - his biggest fear - and it was a lie.

41:35 - Watching Bellamy Young’s facial expression as Jessica realizes that Ainsley killed Endicott is a thing of beauty. This woman needs an Emmy too. HELL, CAN WE GIVE THIS WHOLE EPISODE AN EMMY?!?!

42:00 - Poor Jessica. The guilt she must feel. She’s always thought that Malcolm was the one at risk of being a murderer. He’s a boy (they’re statistically more prone to violence than girls), he was older than Ainsley, he remembers terrible things, Malcolm had continued exposure to Martin throughout his childhood (Ainsley didn’t - I think?). But the child she neglected, the child she thought was safe, the child she thought remained free of Martin’s evil killed someone. It’s a plot-twist that just ripped Jessica’s heart into a million pieces.

42:30 - Yep. I promise you Malcolm has been psychoanalyzing Ainsley’s past behaviours since the moment she killed Endicott. He’s found traits common to serial killers and he’s terrified that she’ll become one if she remembers what it felt like to kill Endicott. He’s probably kicking himself for not noticing sooner. He’s probably questioning his ability as a profiler and as a big brother. AND the fact that MALCOLM has to protect Jessica AND Ainsley is heartbreaking. It’s way too big a burden. No wonder Malcolm’s mental health is on a downward spiral.

42:33 - This is the moment Jessica begins grieving for Ainsley. The fear, disbelief, and horror on her face. It’s torture that I can only describe as someone telling a mother that her daughter is dead. Because Ainsley is dead. The person Jessica believed Ainsley was - that little girl is dead. Because Jess just found out the truth.

42:55 - Jessica is now terrified of her own daughter. That is maybe the most upsetting thing this show has given us.

43:00 - I saw an interesting theory about how Ainsley is regressing back to her childhood (crawling into bed with Mom, moving back in with Mom) and I must say - that would be a really interesting way for this story to go. Ainsley regressing to a child-like state as she is convicted of murder. As a result she ends up in the women’s ward of Claremont because she can plead insanity.

This episode was amazing. Seriously, one of the best Prodigal Son episodes to date. Definitely the best of season 2 so far. If you’ve read this far - thanks for hanging out.

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