#kindly this time because I admittedly was pissed before

[l0vely-w0undss]

Be so fr rn man

L0vely_w0unds respect people’s boundaries challenge

[l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft]

I Have More Rosekiller Fake Dating AU

a continuation of this drabble ( @dairekt-cat there's another)

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They ended up agreeing to all meet at the venue separately and go over the “plan of attack,”  as Barty had very cleverly called it, before going in. Regulus was the only one there when Barty arrived, which served him just fine. He flashed him a grin and a couple finger guns for good measure as he sauntered over, which Regulus promptly rejected with a scowl.

“You can’t be acting like that while we’re in there,” he said the moment Barty was in earshot. So much for friendly greetings.

“‘Hi, Barty. How are you, Barty?” Barty replied loudly, “You look so hot and sexy in that suit, Barty. Did you steal your father’s credit card to buy it?’ Why yes, Reg, I did. Thanks for asking. How are y-”

“Yes, yes, okay I hear you.” Regulus elbowed him hard enough to make Barty stumble back a bit.

Barty was still snickering under his breath as he straightened and scanned their near surroundings. Lots of expensive looking people in expensive looking outfits with expensive looking expressions of passive tolerance slowly filing into the gala venue. No sign of Pandora Rosier or the asshole who insulted his tattoo work last week, which was all well and good as far as Barty was concerned. Might be nice to slip in, swipe some of the fancy booze, and then be able to just dip and leave Regulus to deal with the upper-class as he did best.

“Think your mum will be terribly pissed if you get stood up tonight?” He asked, eyes still flitting over the clusters of people still arriving.

Regulus crossed his arms, “I am not going to be stood up.” He said.

Barty felt his face pinch rather against his own will. It was - he looked at his watch - three minutes until seven. And neither of the Rosier twins were anywhere in sight. Not exactly standup odds, but who was he to deny Regulus his delusions?

“You keep telling yourself that, buddy. But if they don’t show, just know that I’m absolutely gonna-”

Barty needed to study the uncanny accuracy of that ‘speak of the devil and he shall appear’ saying. Because not two fucking seconds after the words came out of his moth, who should show up in all their pasty, bleach-blonde glory?

Alright, fine. That was a bit harsh. Pandora Rosier was, admittedly, a rather beautiful young woman. She held herself with confidence and grace, and she had a sort of perpetual soft smile on her face that made you think she knew something you didn’t at all times. She had on a lacy, sage green ball gown type dress that Barty felt like one wouldn’t typically see at 21st century events like this and he nodded appreciatively at her ability to not give a single fuck. Subtly of course. Heaven forbid he appear like he was having positive feelings about anything related to this situation.

And Evan was…Well, sue Barty but he was hot, okay?? In, like, an asshole type of way where you looked at him and it just made you angry cos no one who was that much of a dick should look that good. He had fucking crystals braided into his hair. Who did that? And why did it look so good and bring out the flecks of blue in his eyes so well? Barty wanted to strangle him. Really.

Pandora smiled kindly when the two of them stopped in front of Regulus, and Barty was surprised to watch as she took even one step closer to pull his friend into a hug. He was practically balking when Regulus returned the hug in kind. Asshole. Regulus never hugged him. 

“It’s wonderful to see you, Regulus,” Pandora smiled, then she turned to Barty, “You must be Barty. It’s a pleasure!”

He nodded and took her hand when she offered it, but in less of a handshake way and more of a…she held his hand and squeezed it in a sort of friendly…sisterly way. It was weird, and he didn’t hate it. 

Then he looked past Pandora and his gaze met Evans and...yikes. Lots of personality and warmth in those eyes. Yeesh. The dude looked like he was a thousand miles away and had generic, pre-programmed responses for every possible conversation scenario ready to auto-play when needed. This was going to be fun. He wasn’t particularly inclined to try civility, but he figured if he was gonna be around this bloke all night he might as well at least attempt to be nice.

He put on a smile and stuck out his hand, “So, seems we’re stuck together tonight, eh? Name’s B-”

“I know who you are.” Evan cut in, neither letting him finish nor taking his hand.

‘Well fuck you, too. Asshole.’

“Evan,” Barty heard Pandora hiss.

It was fine. Barty could play this game too.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” He asked, “Had a lot of fun in my chair the other day, huh? Don’t think anyone ever really forgets their first bl-”

“Barty,” it was Regulus’ turn to snap. Barty scowled at him but dropped it. 

“We should go inside,” Pandora suggested, her voice a bit tight, “The gala should be starting soon.”

She tucked her hand into Regulus’ arm and let him lead her through the front doors, leaving Evan still outside with Barty. Eyes narrowed, he gave him a final once-over. Nice suit. Black with deep crimson roses embroidered on the lapels and cuffs. He was pretty sure the cufflinks were roses as well. A bit on the nose all things considered, but it was nicely tailored, clearly expensive, and it did look good on him. 

He made sure Evan noticed the way his eyes fell to the embroidery on his lapels before looking up at him with a smirk, “Hah. Rosie.”

Evan’s reply was immediate, “Do not call me that.”

“I’m gonna call you that.”

“Fuck you.”

Barty grinned, tucking himself dramatically into Evan’s side as they followed after Regulus and Pandora, “Oh you wish, sweetheart. You wish.”

[foxlawed]

“I want you, I want you right now. I want you here. I want you in my bed, I want you tomorrow. And I want you the next day.” (Yup. Tonights mood is drunk af declarations of love. College era. After Nathan found out who Patrick was and Patrick had to win him over again)

@ofwings-andclaws

everything was great & life was a lie.

nathan had once again fallen victim to his own heart, had let it lure him into a trap of the worst kind. lies. he'd opened his heart, had bared his very soul to patrick, only to find out it had all been a lie. everything. all of it. it hadn't been fate - it hadn't been a coincidence, it ... wasn't anything special. just a rich little alpha kid's joke & nathan was the one paying the price for that.

that entire dinner to introduce the future of both the gray's and the ruthledge's.. had been terrible. nathan had to hold it together, had to sit & smile with a broken heart, because he was raised to be proper - to always be your best self. sit straight, write properly, enunciate properly... hell, they'd made him learn standard dance before he could walk. it was all about appearances & that was all nathan knew.

being a ghost moon.. being the only white fox in the entire history of gray's... being the only one a year late at law school due to his early struggles with the voices.. he'd pretty much accepted to stay on his own for the duration of his law degree, which .. was for the best. study, classes & sleep... some nights he'd still sneak out to get drunk, but that was about the worst he indulged in. enter patrick.

he should've known, though, because no guy - no alpha could be this sweet & love at first sight.. was a myth. his parents didn't love each other when they met & they ended up great together. patrick had charmed him, it'd been his own fault for letting him. he should've known it was a farce. nathan was not the type to be flirted with a lot. he usually never went anywhere without headphones, which was a first turn-off for most & then he didn't have the most outgoing personality to make up for that.

he wasn't shy per se, just ... used to being on his own - with only himself for company. he'd never really been allowed free time after school, so friends & experience were scarce. he hoped to change that at college, so... when he literally fell for patrick he thought that it was a sign & that someone was looking out for him. boy, was he wrong.

ever since that awkward dinner... nathan had been avoiding the alpha. he didn't want to see him, or speak with him. he didn't want to hear it. it didn't matter anyway, because they were bound to each other. it wasn't final or official yet, but nathan knew that he had zero influence on the decision, whether he liked patrick or not. the ruthledges & the gray's were looking for a unison. together they could do even worse better. no, he wouldn't be asked & no, he had no other choice, but to agree. it was bad enough he was the only white fox in the history of grays, the only gray who enrolled in law school a year late due to early struggles with the voices, ...there was no way out of this for him.

back on campus, nathan decided to go out at night, find a party & drink until he didn't remember his own name, but he didn't quite get as far, because patrick was way ahead of him. nathan was determined to ignore his existence, but patrick felt a little different about that & refused to piss off as nathan had put it kindly. he didn't want to hear what he had to say, he didn't want to hear the excuses, or an explanation. he'd lied. he'd deceived him.

"i want you, i want you right now. i want you here. i want you in my bed, i want you tomorrow. and i want you the next day."

admittedly, that was the most patrick had said about them since the introduction dinner & nathan - a lot less inebriated than he'd hoped to be... couldn't help but... but... listen. no. he was a liar, why shouldn't he lie now? he'd drunk, damnit. he's telling the truth.

"you lied to me. you lied. you hurt me and let me walk into that dinner knowing it'd be a disaster. you could've told me before." he was hurt, still & ...some would say pouting. but to him it felt like just punishment & besides, cute or not, promised to each other or not, nathan was determined not to let the other get away with what he did.

that said....

".... don't ever lie to me again."

[fandom-smut-shots]

Striker x Reader - Picking Up Trash and Calling It Treasure 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

TW: Brief mentions of abuse

         Millie exhaled deeply, one hand scrubbing across her face in irritation. You nonchalantly nibbled on a fry as you sat across from her, waiting for her impending explosion in response to you confessing that you’d actually gone on a date with the rattlesnake imp. You’d opted to not tell her- or Blitzø or Moxxie, for that matter- that you’d agreed to another date until it had already passed so that they couldn’t talk you out of it or make the hours leading up to the date extra miserable.

         “Lemme get this straight,” she sighed, placing her hands on the table and slowly opening her eyes. Her irises were still narrowed into slits, but you knew from years of working with her that her anger wasn’t necessarily directed at you.

         You offered her a nod of compliance, stuffing another fry into your mouth.

         “After that cocksucker stood you up, he hit on you again, at this same bar,” she began, fingers of one hand wrapping around the neck of her beer bottle. “And instead of telling him to piss off back into the hole he crawled out of, you agreed to a date, knowing his shitty track record.”

         “Yep,” you agreed, taking a swig of your own beer. “That’s how it went down.”

         “And you didn’t bother to fucking tell me until now,” she growled, and had she not been your best friend since you first joined I.M.P. the sound would have terrified you, “because you knew I would be furious with you and tell you how fucking stupid you are.”

         “I already know how stupid I am,” you countered, crossing your arms. “I damn near slammed my head into the wall when I got home after agreeing to give that fucker another chance. I can’t help it, Mills. You know my history with guys. Something about him just… He gives me butterflies, and yeah, they’re probably murderous butterflies waiting for me to let my guard down so they can swarm and suffocate me, but I haven’t gotten butterflies for anyone in a long fucking time.”

         Only Millie could manage to look sympathetic while glaring daggers at you. “Don’t pull that lovesick puppy shit with me, (y/n). You know Striker’s only gonna do the same thing all your exes have done.”

         “Probably,” you shrugged, your gaze dropping to the table as your hands fell to fidget secretly in your lap. “Hell, he’ll probably hurt me worse than any of them. But I need this thrill, Mills. You can judge me for it all you want to, but I can’t be alone forever just because I know I’ll get hurt. Striker… He’s an asshole. I won’t lie and say he’s not. But if he can make me forget what I’ve been through, even temporarily, then it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

         She stared at you for a solid minute, reading the raw vulnerability in your eyes, and she sighed heavily. She lifted her beer to her lips and took a long swig, slamming the bottle onto the table with heatless force. “Alright. Tell me how your date went.”

           After leaving the bar, you dragged your bruised-and-battered-self home for a long, hot shower. Had Striker been a better person, you might have been worried about scaring him off with your appearance tonight. But he was a killer too, and as he’d so kindly pointed out, y’all weren’t dating. So, you had no one to impress but yourself, and your standards were admittedly low.

         Scalding water cascaded down your aching body as you stood beneath the shower head, eyes closed, running your hands through your matted hair. Blood and dirt swirled down the drain by your feet, washing away the mission’s near-failure. Your brain wandered into dangerous territory as you poured a generous amount of minty shampoo into your palm, setting the bottle back in its place on the shelf before applying the goo to your tormented hair. Your lips set in a frown as you scrubbed the soap into your locks, determined to wash out the crusted blood and whatever else your hair had accumulated during the fight.

         Images of your exes fought for prime seating in your mind. The one who took your virginity and then never called you back. The one who hit you every time you disagreed with him, then bought you flowers as a half-assed apology. The one who proposed to you, only for you to discover he’d cheated on you with every non-imp he could get his slimy hands on. The name-calling. The race shaming. The abuse. The neglect. The inevitable self-hatred.

         You hadn’t even realized you were crying until you reached for the conditioner and found your vision blurry. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to dissipate as you coated your hair in conditioner, a soft sob escaping your throat despite your best efforts to swallow it.

         You knew exactly what drew you to Striker. He was dangerous. He was cocky. He was smug. He was everything you always found yourself being attracted to, even though you knew beyond a shadow of a fucking doubt that it would only lead to heartbreak and self-destruction. But you couldn’t help it. He made you feel alive just by flirting with you. He left your entire body tingly, from your heart to your vagina. You knew it would end as badly as all of your previous conquests had, but the thrill was too much for you to ignore. You wanted to be happy, even if it was only for one date. You didn’t expect him to hold interest in you past that.

         Besides, you’d been through enough heartbreaks that you had a routine to get yourself over them. You’d be fine.

           By the following night, your nerves were building up. Just as the night you’d been stood up, the reality hit you like a train, and you wondered not for the first time if saying yes to the rattlesnake was the right choice. But now, you’d also dealt with the first attempt’s crash and burn, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d stand you up again.

         If Striker was anything, it was resourceful. A knock sounded on your front door, and you used the advantage from your high heels to gaze through the peephole. On the other side stood the Wrath-born cowboy, and a chill crawled up your spine at the realization that he fucking made it this time. You were so surprised to see him that you didn’t even stop to wonder how he knew where you lived.

         Inhaling deeply to steel your nerves, you opened the door, refusing to give Striker the satisfaction of looking him up and down. You caught his eyes doing the same to you, however, and you resisted the urge to bite down on your lower lip.

         “You clean up nice, darlin’,” he grinned, his tail rattling behind him.

         “So do you,” you offered in response. Ensuring that you had your phone, wallet, and housekeys, you stepped out onto the sidewalk and closed the door behind you, locking it before allowing Striker to lead you to his horse. He saddled up first before leaning down and offering you a hand. You took it, ignoring the tingles it sent shooting up your arm and through your chest, and hoisted yourself up onto the saddle behind him.

         “You’re gonna wanna hold on,” he informed you as he took hold of the reins. “He likes to go fast.”

         That was all the warning you were given before the cowboy’s tail slapped at the horse’s rear, and he took off down the street faster than you’d ever seen a horse run. You were lurched forward, your face pressed between Striker’s shoulder blades. Your arms wound around his waist, holding as tightly as you could manage, and holy fuck he smelled amazing. Spicy and warm, like apple cider laced with cinnamon and cut with sandalwood.

         After what felt like an entirely too short ride, the horse slowed to a stop, neighing softly. Striker tapped at the back of your hand, signaling for you to remove your death grip. You refused to meet his gaze as you returned your arms to your own body and leaned back, giving him room to dismount. Again, he offered you a hand, which you gratefully took considering you’d never ridden a horse before now and would very much appreciate not beginning your date by falling on your face.

         Fate, apparently, had other plans. Or it was the horse. Either way, your foot got stuck when you tried to swing your leg over to dismount, and you lost whatever remaining balance you had. You braced yourself for impact, to collapse on the ground and remain there forever in shame, but instead you found yourself wrapped in the warmest arms you’d ever embraced, cradled against a very toned chest that vibrated with a soft chuckle.

         “Fallin’ for me already, darlin’?”

         “Shut up,” you murmured maturely, allowing your hand to rest on his chest entirely for balance purposes. “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

         “Glad I could pop your cherry,” the cowboy grinned. He set you on your feet, allowing you to take in the sights – and wonder exactly why he’d brought you to an empty field in the middle of nowhere. You stood at the top of a large hill, offering you the most beautiful view of Hell’s night sky. Trees could be seen on either side, but they were far enough away to not feel crowding or particularly secluded.

         “Is this where you plan to kill me?” you joked half-heartedly. “Way out where no one will find me?”

         He scoffed, detaching his saddle bags from his horse. “You and I both know Miss Mildred would have my hide if anything happened to you. Plus your half-wit of a boss would send a search party through all seven rings.”

         You shrugged in response, not wanting to dampen the mood by arguing with him. He had a point about Millie, though.

         “What is this, then?” you questioned, choking on a gasp when you turned to face Striker only to find him laying a blanket out on the grass. His saddle bags were opened to reveal a bottle of wine, a few bottles of beer, and a rather impressive spread of food. He took a seat on the blanket, gazing up at you expectantly. You hesitantly took a seat beside him, warmth flooding your heart- rather than your cunt, that’s new- as you took it all in.

         “I never would have pegged you as the romantic picnic type,” you teased.

He simply smirked, pulling the bottles of wine and beer from the bag. He held one in each hand, turning to face you. “What’s your poison, little lady?”

“Let’s see if your taste in wine is any good,” you replied, nodding towards the bottle.

“I don’t drink the stuff,” he countered, unscrewing the cap and passing the bottle towards you. “I didn’t even bring a glass. So it might be shit.”

With a shrug, you wrapped your fingers around the neck of the bottle and held it to your mouth, taking a shallow sip. You paused before going back in, taking a longer swallow, pretending you didn’t notice the way wStriker’s gaze was glued to your face.

“Not bad,” you commented, setting the bottle down beside you. “What else you got, cowboy?”

He offered you a grin, beginning to unpack a wide variety of food from appetizers to entrees to desserts. Your mouth watered at the display, every single dish smelling absolutely amazing even despite being wrapped up and stuffed into a saddle bag.

“Impressive collection,” you praised, taking a kebab that he offered to you and pulling off a piece.

“Glad you approve, darlin’,” Striker smirked, taking a bite of his own. “I made it all myself.”

You nearly choked on your kebab, swallowing the offending piece of meat with a swig of wine. “No fucking way. You made all of this?”

He nodded, his smirk widening to a grin at your surprise and very evident approval. “Everything but the alcohol.”

Well. Shit. If that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard. You’d never dated anyone that could make a grilled cheese sandwich, let alone an entire country picnic. Fuck. No. Bad (y/n). Get those feels out of here right the fuck now. You are not falling for this asshole.

“Speechless, huh, little lady?” the cowboy chuckled, and you continued nibbling on your food in lieu of a reply.

“That’s okay,” Striker mused, discarding his empty skewer and turning his body towards you. He reached out, long fingers grazing your chin before gently taking hold of it. His face leaned close enough to yours that you felt his breath on your skin. “That makes it easier to do this.” And he pressed his lips to yours.

[deceitfuldevil]

Truth Serum

Pietro Maximoff X Reader

Summary: While working with Tony and Bruce in the lab you accidentally drink some very experimental truth serum, leading to some unwanted confessions with your coworkers.

Warnings: use of y/n, swearing, lots of dialogue, barely proofread, etc.

Word Count: 1.7K

—

You were busy working with Tony and Bruce in the lab and jokingly Tony placed his latest concoction next to your drink but you didn’t realize until it was too late and you drank Bruce’s experimental truth serum.

“Jesus Tony can you turn down that obnoxious music? I’m so sick of that stupid 70s rock music you’re always playing.”

Tony stopped what he was doing are looked over at you in shock.

“L/n, what the hell are you talking about? You told me you loved my music.”

“Well I lied, I lie to you a lot actually.” You looked up eyes blown wide with dear as you covered your mouth after saying that.

“I did NOT mean to say that.”

“Y/n… did you just take a sip of that beaker Tony so stupidly placed right next to your drink?” Bruce asked pinching the small space in between his eyebrows

You looked down as remorse filled your gut, noticing a small dribble of blue liquid slowly falling down the side of the beaker you obviously just took a drink from. Your eyes life to meet Bruce’s as you slowly nodded a small yes.

“Well, no thanks to Tony now we get to find out if my very experimental truth serum actually works.”

“TRUTH SERUM?!” You shouted, the last thing you wanted was for your team to have unrestricted access to your secrets.

“No thanks to me? Are you kidding Banner? This might be the most fun we have with Y/n all year!” Tony said with a cheeky grin

Your groaned and let your head fall onto the desk you were sitting at. “How long will this last?” You asked muffled

“Best case scenario for you? It could wear off within the next 30 minutes. Worst case scenario? You could be highly responsive and overly truthful for the two days.”

Tony broke out with a loud cackle as he got up from his desk and exited the lab “Good luck kid!”

“And theres no antidote?” You pleaded

“Sorry, but we were barely in the trial phases of creating this and we don’t try to make an antidote unless we know for sure that it works.”

“So how the hell am I supposed to deal with this in the meantime?”

“My best advice? Lock yourself away in your quarters for the next day or so to avoid saying anything unsavory to the rest of the team. Because I don’t have a doubt in my mind Tony left to go and tell the whole team about your little predicament.”

But before you could reply Sam, Rhodey, and Bucky all came running into the lab practically running over each other.

“Okay, I’ve wanted wanted to know. How do you feel really about Redwing?” Sam asked pushing Rhodey and Bucky aside.

“I think you should find a girlfriend so you stop obsessing over a high tech piece of metal.” You said with an unholy amount of sass, already sick of this treatment. Bucky burst out laughing but you sent a pissed off glare his way.

“Don’t think you’re safe either beefcake. You’re 106 years old and still can’t take a joke, not to mention that you’re forgetful as fuck. I mean who the hell just forgets that they have a vibrium arm? I’m not even going to get started on that staring problem you have that you think is so intimidating.” You snapped, shutting everyone in the room up. Before leaving you locked eyes with Rhodey.

“Oh hi Ego Machine! Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you. I mean who could when you tell that story of how you dropped a tank at the generals feet every single party? I mean, BOOM were you looking to be interesting?”

After shutting every one in that room down you stormed out and locked yourself in your room. You really could tell if you had taken truth serum or just a liquid curse. You never left your room for the rest of the night, not wanting to risk dinner with the team. But you woke up around 5:30 in the morning to. Very strong feeling of hunger, and prayed no one else would be up this early as you snaked down into the kitchen. You walked past Wanda sleeping quietly on the couch as Vision floated peacefully in the corner.

“Creepy motherfucker…” you whispered as you stepped into the kitchen

“What was that you said about my husband?” Wanda said, suddenly on the other side of the counter looking at you with a tilted head. You jumped almost spilling your cereal

“Jesus Christ Wanda! A warning!” You said clutching your head with one hand and the cereal box with the other. But she only looked at you and smiled mischievously

“You can ask anything you want but you’re not allowed to be upset by the answer” you stated plaining, pouring some milk into your bowl.

“Are you talking about the truth serum you took yesterday?” Wanda asked, tilting her head at you.

“Yeah, it might not wear off for another 24 hours. Everyones been dying to find how I ‘really’ feel about them since Tony ran his big mouth and told everyone about this stupid serum I drank.”

“You do remember I can read minds, right? I always know when someone’s telling the truth or lying, I just don’t always call them on it.”

“Right.” You said quietly as you stuffed your face with cereal so you could go back to your quarters as soon as possible.

You sat alone in your room unbothered for the next few hours, until you heard a rock at your door.

“Don’t come in! Go away!” You shouted turning the page of your book assuming whoever was on the other side of your door would kindly fuck off. But as a tall man with a mop of silver hair entered your room you sighed dramatically and threw your book at him, missing spectacularly.

“I could’ve sworn I said to NOT come in.” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the ever so muscular man making his way over to your bed.

“And when’s the last time I took orders from you?” Pietro said with a smile.

“You never take orders from anyone, I’m surprised you haven’t been kicked off the team yet honestly.” You spat, bitter that he wasn’t respecting your wishes to be left alone. A pit of nerves also started to grow in your stomach the closer he came to you knowing how you really felt about him, and that if he asked there’d be nothing stopping you from telling him the truth.

“Ah, you wound me dragâ.” Pietro says as he mockingly clasps his hands over his heart as if you’d shot him. You just rolled your eyes in response.

“The team tells me you’ve become somewhat of a bitch since yesterday, is that true?” He asked, sitting down at the foot of your bed.

“I’m not a bitch, Tony just tricked me into drinking some of Banner’s experimental truth serum. But you already knew that didn’t you? Either way, spoiler alert. The stupid serum works and probably won’t wear off for another 12 hours. Besides, I’m only a bitch to the team members I don’t like.” Your eyes widened realizing what you just admitted to Pietro

“I suppose that’s true, Wanda did tell me you weren’t too bad when she ran into you this morning.” Pietro said scooting up next to you in bed, normally you’d tell him to fuck off before he got too close so he would know how much you loved being in his arms but when he asked

“Is this okay?” As he stretched his arms over your shoulders pulling you into his chest

“Yeah, I love it when you hold me. Or just touch me in general, always makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.” The confession just spilled right out of your mouth, causing you to once again to clasp a hand over your lips to prevent you from saying anything else.

Pietro looked down at you with a shocked eyes but a smug smile, deciding to push his luck he asked “Then why do you always push me away and tell me to fuck off anytime I hug you?”

“Becwagh wi dwomt vhmnf to nmfh…” you said, keeping your hand over your mouth to muffle your answer. Pietro shook his head light at you as he took your hand off your lips and held it, gently caressing your knuckles with his thumb

“What was that darling?” He said as he cobalt blue eyes poured into yours. It’s like he already knew how you felt but just needed to hear you say it to confirm his suspicions. Months of pinning after you, and now here was his chance. He had no other choice but to act on it. You swallowed the last bit of pride and fear held in your chest and said

“Because I don’t want you to know how I really feel about you.” The last of your walls came crashing down as you smiled gently at the handsome man before you, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as his faced inched closer to yours.

“And how do you feel about me dragosté?”

“Like you’re the only person in the world I could ever fall in love with.” That was all Pietro needed to push aside his ego hearing how you really felt about him as he leaned down and closed the gap in between the two of you pressing his soft lips to yours. Moving gently with you as his lips slotted perfectly over yours, you breathe in his musky scent as you ran your hand across his chest pulling him closer to you. Sadly it wasn’t long before you both ran out of air and had to pull away

“So how do you feel now?” Pietro asked with a cheeky grin plastered on his lovestruck face

“Like I could kiss your stupid face all day.” You said grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him back in for a much more heated kiss.

The rest of your afternoon and week into the evening was spent in Pietros arms sharing soft kisses and fleeting touches. Although admittedly he was sad when the truth serum wore off and he couldn’t ask you any and everything under the sun about how you felt about him.

But you’d end up showing him how you felt in other ways later on ;)

—

A/N

Ahhh here’s my 4th post that will be published while I’m away at camp! Found this little bit in my notes as well and just fleshed it out enough to post! Hope this was enjoyable!

Much Love,

—Skyler

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Philophobia - Laszlo Kreizler (The Alienist)

FINALLY, I finally wrote an imagine for one of Daniel Brühl's characters after suffering a nonstop obsession with him and his work. It only took be three whole days, but honestly, I kinda fuck with this ngl.

Warnings: typical 19th century societal opinions and expectations, sexism, references to prostitution and murder, and major spoilers for season 1 of the Alienist

3.9k words🤙🏻 (so close to 4k but not quite, ah!)

~~~~~~~~~~

You had been working as an apprentice and assistant for Doctor Laszlo Kreizler for over a year now. Ever since you were a child, you had always had a fascination for the human mind, what makes people tic. You had been fortunate enough to even gain some level of respect from the Doctor, even to allow you to watch him work and occasionally ask for your impute if he were to have a case that could use more than one perspective.

You were proud that you were, most likely, one of the first women to ever be allowed to work with someone as proficient in his field as Doctor Kreizler. Though, of course, you had certain obstacles you had to overcome, like people not taking you seriously simply because you were a woman. You knew Laszlo respected you as an individual, but it did take some time before he allowed you to help take on the more severe, violent cases he had.

The murder and mutilation of the young boy prostitute on the Williamsburg Bridge had been one case you begged the Doctor to let you help with. John Moore, a friend of Doctor Kreizler, was very adamant that a woman should not be subject to such horrors. You had known Mr. Moore since you were a child, he was fairly older than you and was like a brother to you, which is why you had no qualms with telling him to kindly piss off, for you knew that a woman could do anything a man could. From then on, you became a member of Laszlo's team.

You very quickly came to realize your rapidly growing affection for Doctor Kreizler during the investigation. Well, truth be told, ever since you started your apprenticeship, you found the Doctor to be quite handsome and found his passion for helping his patients admirable. You loved watching how he behaved with his patients, how he treated them with the respect and kindness that their parents might have never given to them. You tried not to let it distract you, the last thing you wanted was for Doctor Kreizler to see you as some air headed dolt that wasn't fit for the job of an alienist. But on the contrary, Laszlo saw you as anything but.

Admittedly, Laszlo was a bit hesitant in allowing you to take on learning this way of life, which could be difficult, especially since alienists were already misunderstood and ostracized. His first impression when you two met, he saw how beautiful you were and instantly proved you were intelligent, he couldn't imagine why you would choose a career field such as his. Of course, he was glad you were interested and engaged in his theories unlike other simpletons he wasted his breath on. He saw you were truly passionate about psychology, almost as much as he was. It didn't take much convincing after that.

When Laszlo saw how involved you wanted to be with his team set to find the murderer of the young boy on the bridge, he didn't know why he felt a sharp tinge of fear in his chest. At first, he was just convinced that it was because you were considered the weaker sex, according to society at the time. And yet, Sara being an integral part of the investigation didn't give him the same fear. Laszlo just couldn't bare the thought of you getting hurt because of this case. When he made sure that everyone on the team knew that the killer's onslaught of violence could very well spill over onto them, he made sure to make direct eye contact with you; but you didn't let his opinion sway you. You were determined to stop this monster, just as much as everyone else, and nothing was going to stop you from doing just that.

It took countless hours and sleepless nights to locate and finally catch this John Beecham, just in time before he murdered another innocent boy, Joseph.

You, John, and Laszlo raced to the Croton reservoir, which was a drastic change of the plan from what you and the rest of the team had been told; but with Byrnes stalking Laszlo and the police at where you all originally thought the killer would strike next, Laszlo was one step ahead of everyone else it seemed. But upon reaching the reservoir, you were ordered to stay behind, John and Laszlo both agreeing that it was too dangerous.

You stood outside the building, pacing and tapping your foot impatiently. No, you were too on edge. You needed to see this through, and you didn't care about the danger.

You lit a candle upon entering the reservoir, dimly lighting your path through the maze of tunnels throughout the building. You felt your heartbeat thump in your ears as you followed the sound of distant footsteps and shouts, the slowly melting wax stinging your hand but helping you ground yourself to reality as you got closer and closer to the commotion.

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw the killer hovering above Laszlo, holding the Arkansas toothpick right to his face, John and Joseph passed out behind them. "I could take your eyes…" You heard uttered from the killer's mouth.

Over my dead body.

You didn't think as you pounced on the killer, swinging your arm across the man's neck and squeezing as tightly as you possibly could, hearing him let out a strangled gasp. Though your hold on him didn't keep for long. The man being much more stronger and bigger than you, he quickly reached his arm backwards and grabbed a fist full of your hair and slammed you into the concrete floor, knocking the breath out of you from the impact and the swift kick to the stomach you received afterwards. You could've sworn you heard Laszlo call out your name, but you instantly felt dizzy; you must've hit your head.

You thankfully recovered after a minute, but not soon enough. You scowled as you saw captain Connor standing in the corridor, holding a freshly fired pistol smugly. "Looks like I walked into a bloodbath." He smirked, keeping his gun raised directly at you and Laszlo, both of you rendered defenseless on the ground in pain. Connor grinned darkly at you, causing you to cringe in disgust. "Well, looky here, if it isn't Laszlo Kreizler's pet bitch. Shame I'll have to kill you too, what a waste of a pretty face."

You didn't have time to snap back at the Irishman, Laszlo much quicker in his response. "No, don't!" Laszlo shouted, his expression of anger so fierce it gave Connor slight pause, but he quickly shrugged it off with another smirk.

"Aw, don't worry, Doctor. I'll make her death quick and painless, I'm not a monster, after all." As time seemed to slow as Connor raised his pistol to your forehead, the sound of the hammer pulling back and twisting the cylinder was distant, and your first thought was that you couldn't believe you were going to die by the hands of a pig.

A shot rang out, echoing through the desolate halls of the reservoir.

You were wide-eyed in shock, staring up at the similarly shocked face of the captain Connor, bright red blood slowly seeping out of his mouth and promptly dropping to the floor, clutching the fresh bullet hole in his stomach. You looked to see Sara, holding her own pistol, smoke pouring from the double barrel. "Are you alright?" Her meek and timid voice spoke, gently dropping to her knees and laying a hand on your shoulder.

"I am now." You smiled breathlessly, reaching out and giving her a grateful hug. "Thank you."

Sara then went to John, waking him up and making sure he was okay too. You looked back at Doctor Kreizler, him staring at you with an intense but unreadable expression. He looked back and forth between you and the ladder that went up another level of the reservoir, noticing the killer wasn't there with everyone else anymore. You nodded to him, signaling that it was okay to pursue him, and off he went quickly.

Unfortunately, the bullet wound in the killer's back caused by Connor drained the life from him too quickly, Laszlo not being able to get the answers he was seeking. Now, no one would ever know why John Beecham murdered those poor boys. It was frustrating, and you couldn't even imagine how Laszlo must've felt, to spend all that time and effort, having nothing to show for it. But at least you stopped a serial killer.

Laszlo didn't speak to you at all after that, even when you all arrived back at the institute so the Isaacson brothers could run the autopsy. It felt as though he was upset with you, which, you couldn't really blame him for. You did refuse to listen to his requests, but you knew you made the right choice. Any minute longer and you might've actually walked into a bloodbath as Connor said. But the sharp pain in your side and severe headache that you suffered tried to convince you otherwise.

As the Doctor's assistant as well as his apprentice, you were immensely thankful that you had your own private bedroom that you could wallow in. After everyone went home and left you and Laszlo alone, you tried to go up the stairs to your room, wincing every so often when you accidently overexerted yourself.

Looking in your full body mirror after you undressed, you saw the black and blue bruises decorating the side of your abdomen. It looked as bad as it felt, you supposed. You started to regret your reckless ways, thinking of what you could've done better than to just tackle the murderer.

You jumped at the sudden knock on your door, quickly dressing yourself in a thin robe so you weren't completely naked as you opened the door, seeing Laszlo's face immediately calming your heart. Though upon seeing your lack of decency, quickly uttered an apology and turned to leave but you reached out and gently grabbed his arm. "I, uh, just wanted to see if you were alright." Laszlo spoke softly, noticeably trying to not let his gaze slip lower than your face.

You smiled weakly, nodding your head. "Yes, I'm alright, thank you." You lied. Due to the night you've both had, you didn't want to worry him, he deserved some peace and relaxation after the long investigation. But you quickly noticed how Laszlo's brow furrowed, his mouth upturned in a frown, his once concerned gaze turning cold. "Are you okay?" You asked back, even though it was completely obvious what he answer would be.

Laszlo tilted his head slightly, a tight-lipped irritated smile on his face. "You could've gotten killed tonight, you know that, don't you? If not by captain Connor, Japheth could've done more than just slam you on the ground."

You lowered your head in shame, not that you were ashamed of your decision, you just hated that you were correct on your theory that Laszlo was actually upset with you.

"John and I told you not to go into the reservoir with us, yet you deliberately disobeyed."

You couldn't help but scoff. "That man almost killed you, Laszlo! Who knows, if I had arrived one second later, you might've been killed."

"Japheth wouldn't have killed me."

"Really? How do you know that?" You asked irritably, rolling your eyes when Laszlo couldn't find the words to respond. "I don't regret my actions, Doctor. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." But as your next heartbeat pounded in your ears, another wave of sharp pain resonated through you, causing you to almost double over in pain, the only thing keeping you upright was your hand on the doorframe.

"Y/n?" Laszlo asked, panicked. "What's wrong?" Laszlo quickly helped you to your bed, even sitting down being almost too painful. You clutched your side, biting your lip in attempt to keep your whimpers silenced. But Laszlo noticed right away, reaching for your hand, giving you a tender gaze. "Let me see."

You internally sighed as you listened to him, hesitantly removing your hand and allowed Laszlo to gently open your robe. You heard him gasp quietly as he finally saw your side, his body tensing up almost as if he could feel the same pain that you felt. "Why didn't you say anything?" Laszlo scolded.

"I didn't want you to worry." You mumbled nervously, Laszlo's sullen face making you feel guilty. "I'm sorry."

Laszlo shook his head lightly. "Don't. Just lay down, you need to rest. I'll call for a doctor in the morning." And with that, he left your room in a hurry, shutting the door hard enough to make you flinch. You didn't want disobey his direct orders this time, plus, your body craved sleep.

As Laszlo said that night, he called for a doctor for a house call. Thankfully, your bruises weren't anything to be concerned about as long as you stayed in bed for awhile. Which wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for the fact that you were pretty restless in general, so you knew you were going to have a hard time being on bedrest. And Laszlo was still upset with you, so that made the situation even worse.

Stevie and Cyrus were gracious enough to help take care of you instead of Laszlo, but you couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not. On one hand, it would've forced Laszlo to deal with his feelings toward you, but you also didn't want to have to deal with his issues while dealing with your own, and you didn't know if you would've been able to handle the more intimate moments that came with being cared for if it was with Laszlo. Though, you decided that being ignored was worse.

Even when you were cleared to walk around, Laszlo rarely ever spoke to you, only when necessary, which irked you. You figured enough time had passed for him to get over your actions at the reservoir, but apparently you underestimated his ability to hold a grudge. You just couldn't understand why he stayed so mad at you, you were at your wits end and you wanted answers. And almost like Laszlo himself could feel your frustration towards him, he decided to go to the opera in attempt to escape.

Laszlo sighed when he saw you sitting patiently on one of his chairs in his living room, mindlessly flipping through one of his books. "What are you doing up? It's late. You should be in bed."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black, Doctor." You stood up from the chair, a bit too quickly, wincing at the now dull pain, still reminding you that you had to pace yourself.

"How are you feeling?" Laszlo asked, for the first time since the doctor's visit.

"Oh, so now you care?" You scowled, allowing your bitterness seep through in your tone.

Laszlo huffed, gripping his cane tightly. "I never said I didn't."

"Well, you sure have been acting like it." You chuckled bitterly.

"Surely, I don't know what you mean."

You scoffed. "Really? You really don't know? You've been ignoring me for weeks, Laszlo. I just want to know why? And if it's really because I followed you and John, then I must say, you've been quite unfair to someone who just might've saved your life. Or maybe I just should've died then and there." Now, you knew that was a bit overdramatic, but once you started speaking your mind, you couldn't stop the word vomit.

You flinched when Laszlo threw his cane to the floor in anger, a loud clang echoing through the room. "I-" Laszlo started to shout, but quickly stopped himself, balling his hand into a fist and taking a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure.

Laszlo hadn't meant to snap at you, truly he didn't; and he wanted to tell you that, but all words escaped him in that moment.

Back at the reservoir, Laszlo had a realization. When he saw you getting hurt by Japheth and almost killed by Connor, he felt terrified, terrified that he was going to lose you. Up until that point, you were just his apprentice and a friend, nothing more. He didn't realize how important you were to him until he almost lost you. Laszlo didn't want to feel this way, he figured he had suffered enough trauma and having unrequited feelings for someone would just add on to his list of problems. But you…you were so good, so pure of heart, someone who deserved much better than him. Maybe he had known that he had feelings for you, but he kept those feelings under lock and key, ignoring them and eventually, ignoring you.

Laszlo had a tendency of blaming himself for most things, you being hurt on the job was no exception. He should've had you go with Sara and the Isaacson brothers, you would've been okay if he had. Seeing your injuries just made his fear even more palpable, and he couldn't handle it. He completely shut down, locking himself in his own room, trying not to think about how he was leaving you alone to deal with your pain by yourself. And seeing Stevie and Cyrus hustle about the house, doing whatever they could to make your life easier just added on to his guilt. But ultimately, he knew it wasn't fair to you; and seeing your frightened expression, he knew he couldn't ignore his feelings anymore.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to shout." Laszlo sighed, removing his fur coat and setting it down.

"Please, Laszlo, tell me why. I…I miss you, talking to you." You felt your face heat up at your words, a simple confession that could just be interpreted as friendly, but you knew otherwise.

Similarly, Laszlo felt his heart beat faster than normal, not just by your words but your pleading soft gaze that he couldn't look away from even if he tried. Laszlo started by taking a deep breath, "I never meant for you to feel ignored. After all that happened, I needed time to think. About the case, about Japheth...about you. I didn't truly understand my feelings until that night, and as much as I hate to admit this to myself, I was scared. As soon as you were involved, nothing else mattered to me, not the case, not John, not the commissioner; as long as you were safe. And I know how terrible that sounds, but it's the truth."

You stepped forwards cautiously, reaching out to take Laszlo's hand in yours. He hesitated for a moment, and you stopped to look into his eyes with all the kindness you could possibly muster, and you were relieved to see him relax, untensing his shoulders and connecting his hand with yours with a sharp exhale. "The environment in which I grew up, it's difficult for me to open myself up to...this." He stared at his hand intertwined with yours, gently grazing his thumb over your soft skin. "I thought I could push these feelings away, but it seems I've failed at that too."

You gave his a sympathetic smile. "I understand." You didn't know the full extent of his childhood trauma, but you understood well enough how much it could affect a person, especially an innocent child. "I, too, tried to push my feelings away." You chuckled weakly, the feeling of Laszlo's smooth hand lightly brushing up your arm, causing you to shiver.

"And did you succeed?" The question was so simple, but the almost sultry expression in his eyes so fixed on yours told you he already knew what your answer would be. And you stuttered, unable to speak from how intense his gaze was; and you were almost convinced that you saw a ghost of a smirk when you gave up trying to come up with a response. "I suppose that gives me my answer."

Before you could attempt to respond once more, you were stopped by Laszlo's hand reaching up to gently caress your cheek, tracing a line against your jawline before coming to rest on your chin, lifting your face to meet his. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his breath on you, mixing with your own, his lips so close that you could almost feel them brush over yours in a feather-light motion. "Tell me to stop, Liebling. Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll stop."

You exhaled shakily, bringing your hand to rest atop of his shoulder, feeling the fine fabric of his velvet waistcoat. "I don't want you to stop." You trembled, wavering but not reducing the weight of conviction in your voice.

Now sure of your desire, Laszlo shifted forward, connecting your lips with his with a vigor even he didn't realize he had in himself. You raised your hand to cup his cheek as he moved against you, his beard tickling your face, but it didn't bother you in the slightest. His lips were so soft, tasting of champagne that only added to the allure to the passionate moment. His tongue danced expertly with yours, making you weak at the knees, his hand gripping your waist tightly sending a rush of electricity throughout your entire body. The moan that almost escaped your mouth forced you to realize how quickly you both were getting carried away, and as much as it pained you, you slowed down and gently pulled away, a lightheaded smile playing at your lips.

"Not to be cliché but, I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that." You admitted bashfully, earning a light chuckle from Laszlo. He kept his hand on your waist, not ready to let go.

"Now that I've had a taste of you, I don't know how I'll be able to keep myself away from you." He half joked, causing you to blush even more furiously than you already were, but you could hear the underlying tone in his voice, the fear of what the future would hold for the both of you.

"Well, luckily, you don't have to worry about that, cause I'm not going anywhere, Doctor."

Laszlo shook his head slightly, hesitation coming back into his expression. "If we get a case like this again, if I can't protect you-"

"Hey," You interrupted softly, forcing him to look into your eyes. "this won't happen again, okay? I've learnt my lesson, and I'll be careful next time, if there's a next time. And I'm not helpless, you know. I know how to take care of myself."

"I just wish I could be the man you deserve, someone who makes you feel safe." Laszlo grabbed onto his bad arm, the distain for his physical handicap clear.

You smiled softly, kissing his cheek with a similar tenderness. "You already make me feel safe, Laszlo, only having one strong arm isn't going to change that. You're perfect just the way you are. I mean that."

Laszlo's heart swelled, your words making him feel just as warm as your hand on his jaw, gently tugging on his beard. He hadn't felt this way about anyone in a long, long time. He could have told you he loved you right then and there and he would've been genuine, but as the relationship was only just beginning, he decided to refrain, as hard as that was. But he smiled, knowing that one day your relationship with him would develop further and you both would be comfortable enough to tell each other anything and everything about your lives and how you felt.

And when that day does come, Laszlo vowed to himself to spend that whole day telling you how much he loves you, over and over again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The urge to write smut was stronggggg, but Laszlo is absolutely a virgin and I'm too down bad to write sweet first times, at least this time.

[bindi-the-skunk]

There are other ways to make LxG film fics "closer to the comics" other than making Hyde a rapist, which, in the end, was done for no reason but to make Hyde seem more evil, heck, freaking Griffin in the comic was a pedophile raping schoolgirls and shit.

It serves no purpose, especially if you want us to at least partialy stomach them as part of the hero group and comic!Jekyll seemed like the type who couldn't even take a piss without asking permission first, much less have RAPE fantasies he wishes to live out through Hyde.

Hyde IS Jekyll, don't give us this weak and pathetic worm of a man and expect us to believe a rapist cannibal erupted from him! (And no just because Movie!Jekyll has more agency does not mean he can be labled a better canidate for a rapist, when sources say it is his TEMPER that made Hyde, not lust or anything like that) it serves no purpose to do this and should only be reserved for characters who will later get their testicles burnt off in a beaker of acid.

Nemo's comic version was very much a psychotic blood knight, perhaps have him enjoy fighting a few baddies a bit TOO much and start to slip back into his own ways and has to be pulled back by the rest of the League.

Heck, this could even apply to NemoxJekyll fics, Henry is BRITISH, from a people who Nemo spent almost his whole life despising and wanting dead (women and children might be an exeption to this given his movie reaction to the idea of using them as hostages as "monsterous" but movie!Nemo has a moral compass that seems like it would work most of the time)

Since even comic!Nemo paid Jekyll a compliment on his genius (and I don't think Captain Nemo of all people would use that word lightly) but I can see him sometimes slipping back into old habits on bad days, not out of malice, but old habits die hard as they say, and book!Nemo already suffered from a mental break once, so he could have moments of coldness despite legitamitly loving his new friends or drama from Jekyll thinking he might just be a replacement for Ishmael (or in MinaxHenry fics thinking he is a replacement for Jonathan) instead of being loved for himself

Movie!Quartermain could have had a drug habit after losing his wife and son, but got clean by the time of the movie but someone tries to lure him back into that life by bringing up bad memories

There are ways to make the story itself "darker' without having to go the rape route, or if there is rape, kindly do not make it someone we are supposed to ENJOY watching or reading about.

Or if you did wanted to toe other issues, Sawyer could mistake one of Nemo's crew for Injun-Joe in the dark and panic, having to explain the story and maybe bringing up his friend Huck helping a runaway slave (Sawyer did not seem racist in the film despite when he was supposed to come from so PTSD not racism would be the cause of the fear)

Or Nemo letting Janni think he is dead because he feels she would be happier that way (do people just assume ALL foriegn parents are sexist assholes to their girls? I do admit that several families are awful to girls, but I'm sure not ALL were like that even back when the story takes place, and especially not in modern!AU) And Movie!Nemo did not seem to mind Mina at all even before she revealed the ability to rip out necks, and even saved her life in the library scene )

Tom seems like the sunshine child, but he would be a PTSD ridden MESS after what he has gone though in both the book and in the canon backstory of his best buddy Huck finn being KILLED pre-movie )

Mina has lost EVERYTHING, her husband, her humanity and perhaps even her child and other friends from either time, illness or wanting to keep them safe from her condition, her taking Dorian and possibly others as lovers admittedly sounds on the surface like a woman embracing her sexuality and not fearing it.

And yes that can be seen as true, or you can look at her like another version of Nora Fries from the Harley Quinn show, as in taking lovers as a way to disconnect from the pain of losing her husband

So many ideas but people just choose to fall back on rape…ughhh

sorry just needed to rant...

[avenging-criminal-bones]

After All This Time || Chapter Three

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 1659

Summary: You being a new recruit pissed SSA Aaron Hotchner off. You being smart enough to give Spencer Reid a run for his money pissed him off even more. Really, he just despised your presence. Hated your every move.

Until one day, he just… didn’t.

Warnings: panic attack, mean hotch, cocky reader at the end, this is kind of filler-like to keep the story going

TAGLIST

@kingofthetwats @wanniiieeee @uwu-sebastianstan @piggyinthesea @yoshigguk @scootankle @thatisthemagic @errorcosplay67 @ivebeenthinkingboutu @big-galaxy-chaos @rynfoxsleeps @phoenixsnape1 @mojofun @pachiibatt @enjoymyloves @thenewnormalforensicator

* * * * * Chapter Three As soon as the team went in the next morning, there was a call into the precinct reporting another body.

The police chief walked into the office that the BAU team was set up in and said, "Alyssa Wilde, age six, no connection to the other victims."

Remembering the note that had been appearing, you asked, "Was there any sort of note or sign left with her body?"

"Yes, actually," he shuffles through his pockets and hands it to Derek, who is standing the closest to him.

"Thanks man. That's all for now. We'll let you know if we need anything else." The chief walks away then, shutting the door behind himself.

"Derek, what did the note say?" JJ asked with a grim expression, hating that they were up against a child murderer. Everyone hated these cases. Everyone.

He reads from the note softly, trying not to be perceived as blunt or uncaring, "As we know, the unsub left the previous notes about God being with him, cleansing the Earth, and the children being impure. This note says, "You demons can try to stop me, but Alyssa was impure. God will not let you stop me, for I am doing his work." This could mean a few things since he is so heavily religious."

"Does anyone-"

"Reid. What school did the kids go to?" Hotch interrupts you, effectively ending your attempt at the same question.

Spencer looks at you slightly before sliding quickly into his 'remembering-detail' face.

"You know, Hotchner. I was about to ask the same question when you interrupted me."

Rossi and Derek both raise their eyebrows at hearing you speak up against Hotch.

"Well, Agent L/N, maybe I would't have to interrupt you if you would just learn your place on this team. Stop trying to pitch in where you're not needed. The briefing and the deliberations call for experienced agents." He looks up from his papers then and stares right into your eyes. "The only reason you're on this team is because you are admittedly a better shot than everyone else here besides me."

You look down, feeling the tips of your ears heating up with your anger. Emily tenses beside you when Hotch takes a step closer to you.

"Look up, Agent." Reluctantly, you obey his command and meet his eyes. "We don't need you on this team. I decided to be nice and gave you a spot because you're a good shot, but that doesn't mean I want you here."

You feel tears well in your eyes and glare at the taller man in front of you. Something flashes in his eyes when he notices that he made you so upset. It's not malicious though, he almost looks... remorseful.

Whatever.

It doesn't matter. He was a dick.

"I'm going to do some research on my own. If someone needs me just call me."

"Y/N, wait," you spin around to see JJ walking towards you, but you hold your hand up to her.

Shaking your head you sigh, "It's fine. I'm just gonna go. Call me later."

You don't give them enough time to try and convince you to stay before you're walking out of the room. As you pass the police chief, you murmur that you'll be back later.

The station is a short walk from the hotel that the team is staying at, so you use the opportunity for fresh air and kindly refuse the car that was offered for you on your way out of the precinct.

Once you get into the hotel room that you shared with Emily, you sat on the bed and fell back. The anger that had been building up inside of you finally broke out and you cried. You cried hot, angry tears, constantly willing yourself to 'toughen up' like your dad would always say to you.

Rubbing harshly at your eyes to try and stop the tears, you thought about the case and pulled out your individual case file.

Four kids now. All found in the same area. Three with notes. This unsub clearly thinks that he's doing God's work.

It reminds you briefly of a case from your hometown. It ripped through your city in a month-

Breathing was hard right now. The air wasn't coming in like it should. It wasn't. There was no air. Nothing. Your brother. Images of your brother flashed through your head as you sank down to the floor.

Your fists grip in the rug beneath the bed. You're hyperventilating. The door opens, but you don't look up, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

"Agent- Y/N? Are you okay?"

There are hands on your arms, gripping just a little too tight.

"No- I just. The case, my bro- It's just- I can't breath... I can't. I can't- I can't- I-"

"Hey, shh. You're okay. You- Okay. Just try and breath with me." The voice, which you distinctly pick out as a man's, floats around you and then you feel your hand being grabbed and moved to rest against something hard.

"L/N, can you open your eyes? Look up, Y/N."

"Look up, Agent."

Your eyes flash open and you jerk your head up to look at Hotchner. All traces of your panic were gone now, and you scrambled to slide away from him, yanking your hand off of his chest.

"I, uh. I'm sorry... for that. I didn't-"

"It's fine. Are you- you're okay?" His voice is softer than it usually is around you, but his gaze is still hard and uncaring.

Nodding you push yourself up off of the floor. "Why are you here?" Your moment of weakness was over and you're reminded of how he's been treating you lately.

"The team had been trying to call you for fifteen minutes. On both your persona and work phones. They were worried." You don't miss how he says 'the team' and 'they' rather than including himself in the worry. Momentarily, you catch yourself wondering why he was the one to come check on you.

He rises from his kneeling stance in front of your bed and reverts back to SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"The team has dispersed to their fieldwork for the day, you and I were assigned to work together," you hear the bitterness in the statement, followed by another quick jab at you, "I was really trying to avoid it, but I guess it's our lucky day."

Without another word, he spins around on his heel and starts walking out the door, leaving you to catch up to him if you wanted to actually be a part of the case.

"Asshole," you murmur before taking off in a half jog-half walk to try and catch up and look like an equal.

As you start to catch up to him, you call out, "I'm driving."

"No, you are not, Agent." Hotchner's words sounded final, but you ignored him and sat in the driver's seat of the SUV when the two of you approached.

You shut the door and held your hand out for the keys when he sat, albeit reluctantly, in the passenger seat.

"Thanks, Hotch," you wait for him to correct the nickname, and when he doesn't the smirk that's been hiding for a few minutes started to peek out in the corners of your mouth.

"This is going to be fun."

"Drive, L/N."

[santastic]

the big, bad wolf || hwang hyunjin oneshot

》》 pairing: hyunjin x female reader

》》 summary: every year, you and the boys celebrate halloween with a party at hyunjin's - who just so happens to be your mortal frenemy. every year, you all dress up. this year, however, you decide to make it a bit more interesting: everyone picks an outfit for their random secret santa partner. it seems like a bit of innocent fun, but felix has an idea...

》》 word count: 2.4k

》》 genre/tags: halloween au, not quite e2l but e2 like...sexy tension???, suggestive themes (mostly just implications), a little bit of crack lmao

》》 warnings: cliche cheesy dirty flirting (come on hyunjin you're better than this), thicc romantic and sexual tension, reader is a simp in denial, suggestive themes, implied smut at the end, talk of biting but no actual biting, reader has dom vibes, hyunjin is bold until someone else is bolder

》》 notes: my first oneshot on this blog! I already wrote a halloween drabble, but I felt like writing something bigger than that and my friend (I see u vi) inspired me by suggesting some spicy hyunjin content. n e ways, happy halloween everyone! and if u don’t celebrate halloween, I hope u have a lovely weekend <3

navigation || skz masterlist

Halloween is always fun with your friend group. I mean, it's fun anyway - lots of cheap candy, neighbourhood celebrations, an excuse to get way too drunk - it's just a lot more fun with eight other crackheads.

You guys have a sort of tradition going by now, even though each year is a bit different. Hyunjin throws the party, Minho brings the alcohol and hides it from Chan until it's too late to stop everyone from getting shitfaced, Jeongin and Felix bring ungodly amounts of candy, and Jisung is a skeleton (literally every single year - it started when you called Tate Langdon's skeleton makeup hot, and it never ended).

Everyone (except Jisung) keeps their costume a secret - unless they're Chan and Felix, in which case they do couple costumes and keep it a secret from everyone else. Sometimes you even decide on a theme, like the year before the last, where everyone was supposed to dress as their favourite Pokemon. This inevitably led to intense fighting roleplays to assert dominance as your respective type, and in order to spare your reputation in the neighbourhood, you decided the next theme would be a little less wild.

This year, the theme was 'secret Santa costumes', meaning you each picked a random name from a hat to decide who you would be buying a costume for and a few days before Halloween, you were given your own costume to wear to the party by whoever pulled your name from the hat of destiny.

Technically that's not how secret Santa works, but no one questions Chan when it comes to holiday business.

You just so happened to get Jisung, and while the temptation to keep the skeleton thing going just for the meme was definitely there, you ultimately decided he should be a classic bedsheet ghost - except with no eye or hand holes cut out. You know, to add a little sprinkle of chaos to his already very chaotic life.

The lovely boy who decided your spooky fate was Felix, who had coincidentally been in charge of buying Hyunjin’s costume too - when you asked why, he said it was because the number of people was uneven, so he had kindly volunteered to take on an extra. You had honestly expected him to pick something weird or wild for you, so you were quite surprised by the outfit he had settled on.

"Is this...little red riding hood?" you had asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you stared at the dress and hood in your hands.

"Yep! I saw it the other day and I thought it would be nice to go for one of the classics, you know?" he had explained, smiling as if he was ever so proud about his decision. Something about the hint of mischief in his eyes made you suspicious, but you had let it slide. "You don't mind, right?"

No, you didn't mind. You had given Jisung a ghost costume, so you didn’t really have room to speak on the originality of Felix’s decision. Besides, the dress didn’t look too cheap, nor did it look especially short, and the hood-cape made you feel way too powerful for someone wearing a $20 Target costume.

So you really didn't mind at all, until it came to the day of the party. Now, as you stand in the doorway to Hyunjin’s apartment, you suddenly mind a lot more.

”Lee Felix, I’m going to decorate the lawn with your fucking intestines, oh my god!” you whisper-yell to the boy who conveniently manages to dart away with the excuse of needing to help Jeongin open all the candy bags. Your angry eyes follow his retreating blue form - Chan picked his outfit this year, and of course he decided Felix should be an Among Us character.

Everyone in the group knows about the slight tension (read: obvious beef) between you and Hyunjin. Technically speaking, you’re friends. He invites you to his parties, you hang out with him when he’s with the boys. It’s just that neither of you can stand each other, because you’re both very bold and even more stubborn.

Whenever the two of you are together, you bicker like children and it’s pretty much endless. You could probably throw insults (and the occasional murder threat) at each other all day if the other members didn’t interrupt, and on those days you’d be more than happy to teach Hyunjin a lesson with a nice, strong punch in the nose if the opportunity were ever to present itself.

So, with this in mind, it’s quite clear why you’re planning Felix’s murder when you see Hyunjin walking around as the big, bad wolf.

You’re genuinely considering sneaking out the front door before anyone else sees you and running back to your apartment (because Felix just so happens to be your ride home), but fate decides to mess with you and suddenly, Hyunjin locks eyes with you from across the living room.

The way a huge smile instantly graces his pretty face sends a rush of butterflies, followed by anger, through you as you stare back at him. His clip on wolf ears are admittedly quite cute, but the fake fangs he’s wearing send your thoughts in a very different direction. As he makes his way over, you suddenly wish you had followed Felix to the kitchen - at least they keep the alcohol in there. In his living room, you’ve got no choice but to deal with Hyunjin while sober.

”Well, would you look at that? Seems like I found my little red riding hood.” he teases with a wink, leaning against the wall beside the door.

When you scoff at him, he gives you another big grin and you can’t help but stare at the fangs again. The vibrant blue contact lenses he’s wearing make his gaze feel intense even when he’s smiling, and the way his long, blonde hair falls freely gives him a glow that’s both angelic and positively demonic. He looks so annoyingly handsome, as per usual; if only his personality wasn’t the personification of the words ‘cocky asshole’. You can’t help but think it’s a huge waste of beauty.

“Excuse me-” you begin, ready to start the first round of arguing, but he cuts you off like the annoying brat he is.

“You’re excused,” he says, thinking his comment was very smart, and if it wasn’t a night meant for fun and games, you might’ve killed him on the spot.

“Fine, excuse you. I’m not your little red riding hood. In fact, I’m not your anything, thank you very much,” you snap, brushing past his tall figure as you head to the table the boys have set up to the side. There’s an array of Halloween-themed food, prepared by Chan, and you settle for a red velvet cupcake decorated with black frosting and what you assume are meant to be cat ears poking out of it.

“Right, sure, but we’re still matching tonight. It’s kind of like-”

This time, you cut him off. “It’s not like Chan and Felix. It’s not. We’re not wearing couple costumes, so don’t say it.”

He shuts his mouth (finally) and you take it as your cue to leave before he says something else to piss you off. Unfortunately, he seems to have the desire to ruin your night further and chooses to follow you on your journey.

“So anyway, I guess this was Felix’s plan, right?” He gestures to your costumes. “Unless you had something to do with it, that is.”

You don’t bother to address the second part of what he said and instead just nod, scanning the room for the previously mentioned mastermind. As soon as you can get your hands on that boy, you swear you’ll slaughter him for subjecting you to Hyunjin’s torturous teasing all night.

“He was already on thin ice after trying to tell me Bulbasaur is a better starter than Charmander, but now he’s actually dead to me,” you growl out once you spot him sitting beside Minho, laughing happily with his classic red solo cup and a slice of chocolate cake. Jeongin sits beside them, tearing open bags of candy with no assistance from Felix, because of course he was lying about helping him earlier.

Hyunjin laughs softly and you curse your heart for skipping a beat at the sound. Sometimes it feels like your head hates Hyunjin while your body is stupid enough to like him, and it’s part of the reason why you hate talking to him so much. Every time you stop throwing insults and sass at him and instead sit back and listen to what he has to say, a part of you realises you don’t exactly have a proper reason for disliking him. He’s not all that bad, and sometimes you even find yourself laughing at his jokes and witty remarks.

But you’d really rather not go through the endless cycle of those thoughts right now, especially when the cause of your problems is standing beside you eating a chocolate bar.

“I have to say, though,” you comment as you turn to look him up and down, “the big, bad wolf concept suits you pretty well.”

Before he can accept the compliment, you continue. “You’re both big, hairy beasts who dress like grandmas.”

The obvious offence on his face is so satisfying you almost wanna snap a photo to reflect on this moment in the future, but you refrain from doing so. He would just pose anyway, and the photo would probably end up making your stupid heart flutter again.

“Well, at least you think I’m big. Besides, if dressing like a grandma gets me closer to eating you, then I suppose it’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make,” he whispers in a husky, seductive voice that kind of makes you want to choke-slam him, but you suspect he might enjoy that anyway.

It angers you when he makes flirty comments like that, because as annoying as they are and despite you knowing full well he only says it to get under your skin, it still makes your heart race every time. Maybe in another universe, Hyunjin is a sweet boy who innocently flirts with you and brings you roses instead of a big, bad bitch who’s just acting like a horny teenager. Annoyingly enough though, you think you’d fall for him either way.

You turn away with the intention of finally escaping to the kitchen to grab something to drink, hoping to settle the thoughts dancing around your head, but he reaches for your wrist. The feeling of his fingers pressing warmth into your skin just makes your head spin even more, and you’re so distracted you don’t pull away from him.

"Aw, don’t run away now. Are you scared of me, little red? There’s no need to be, I’m just joking. I won’t bite unless you beg me to."

You pull your arm back as soon as the words leave his mouth. Hyunjin has a lot of things (a severely irritating personality, a stupidly handsome face for such an asshole, a loud voice solely meant for pissing you off on a daily basis, the list goes on), but the thing he definitely has most is the fucking audacity.

However, the most annoying part by far is the way you feel your face heat up when you register the last thing he said. You’d rather die than let him make you flustered, so you shake your head slightly to clear those thoughts from your mind and look him in the eye again.

"Scared? Me?" you scoff, staring him down with a steady glare and if he was anyone else, he'd probably shiver in fear.

Unfortunately, he is not anyone else. He is Hwang Hyunjin, and Hwang Hyunjin does not shiver; he beams with a smug grin and makes your blood boil.

"Mhm. Look at you. You’re basically dressed as my prey tonight, babe." He purrs the pet name like the absolute fuckboy he is. "And sure, the real you is feisty, but you're all bark and no bite."

The overly confident, proud smirk on his face makes him look like a damn peacock flaunting its feathers, and you decide then and there that you'll do anything to get rid of it.

"All bark," you echo his words, walking towards him slowly, "and no bite, huh?"

You swear you see his eyes widen for a split second at your change in demeanor before the stupid smirk returns, and the little rush of victory you feel from catching him off guard is enough to keep you walking forward.

His gaze never leaves yours, especially when you're standing on the tips of your toes in front of him, noses just barely brushing against each other. Your hands grip his shoulder to balance you, and you run a finger over his collarbone up towards his cheek, where you gently cup his face. The small distance between the two of you means you can hear his slightly uneven breathing and see the curiosity swirling in his bright blue eyes as he waits for your next move.

You reach a hand up and thread your fingers through his long, bleach blonde hair, and his breath hitches when you gently tug at it. Even his wolf ears almost seem to droop submissively. He doesn't dare move, but his eyes keep flicking down to your lips and back up again.

"Now, that's just not true at all, is it?" you whisper, tilting your head as if waiting for an answer, but he can't find the words to form a witty response. It’s about time he learned some manners, really, even if he needed your guidance for that.

"I'm warning you now," you continue, "you might wanna watch your tone. I might look like your prey, but I promise I bite harder than you do, babe."

You make sure to emphasise the pet name, purring it in the same way he did minutes before. He bites down on his bottom lip, and the way his fangs press into them makes you lick your own lips nervously. It seems as though he can't take the tension anymore, because he goes to lean in and finally close the distance between the two of you as his hands find your hips.

Of course, you'd never let him have that control, especially after his bold attitude from earlier. Even though the temptation to lean in is certainly there, you step away from him and smile sweetly.

"Learned your lesson yet, puppy?"

He doesn’t respond for a moment, clearly still taking in what just happened. When he registers your question, he tilts his head to the side as if in thought - the way a dog might, funnily enough - before he hums quietly.

“I’m not sure. Maybe you should teach me once more, little red,” he suggests, voice low and slightly breathless, “but preferably a bit more in depth this time.”

- ᴇ ɴ ᴅ -

(A/N: AHHHHH I haven’t written a oneshot in SUCH a long time oh my god,,,,, it was a lot of fun tho even if I’m not super confident writing full things. this one was short anyway so I kinda feel like it doesn’t count, but I’m still v happy to finally post my first skz oneshot! I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading <3)

© santastic  —  all rights reserved. reposting, translating, copying and/or stealing is prohibited. ask permission if you wish to create anything inspired by my original ideas.

[docholligay]

Divided by Four: Thirty-Six

 I AM DONE WITH THIS YOU ARE FREE OF HAVING TO SEE IT

Lena Oxton would never have another birthday, and this was an odd thing to think about. 

It was one thing, for Tracer, to know that she was dying--she had known that for what seemed like an age now--but quite another for her to know that there were some things she would never do again. The early ones, she hadn’t known, really. The last time she would get on her motorcycle. When she would last trust herself to fly. That final walk down the hall without help from anyone or anything. These lasts had come without announcing themselves, and so Tracer had not gotten the chance to savor them appropriately. It was a mistake she was trying not to repeat, as she felt the sand slip through the hourglass now. 

So it was comforting, in a way, to know that this would be her last birthday, even if it felt strange to admit. Tracer had resolved to drink in every instant of it. 

She’d told everyone that it was silly and a little wasteful to bring her gifts, given the reality of the situation, and really all she wanted was to be around her people and drink a beer or two, have a few laughs, and for no one to get too misty-eyed. There were a number of things about dying that Tracer didn’t particularly care for, but one topping the list was the way people mourned her before she was gone, when all she wanted to do was enjoy whatever she had left without sadness. There was no point, so she thought, in being so sad over the last bits of something lovely that you ruined it for yourself. It was rather like a child whimpering while eating the last squares of a chocolate bar. So the only gift she had asked for, was for no one to cry in her view, and on that they had delivered. 

But also, people had brought gifts. Nothing fancy, really, mostly soft pajamas and blankets, a nice lotion, a particularly plush backrest pillow she was already making use of, things that spoke to both the reality of the situation and the inability of the people who loved her to let it pass by without making the most of it. Her uncle had made her a coconut strawberry cream cake, and she’d even managed to eat some of it. Pharah had made sure to tell her she had better live long enough to use the thick flannel pajamas she’d bought, as she’d had her father send them from Canada. 

“Or you’ll do what, exactly?” Tracer had grinned as she said it, “Piss on me grave? Well, I’m being cremated, so even that’ll feel a bit ‘ollow, now won’t it?” 

Everyone had laughed, even Winston, who seemed to taking the whole thing rather hard, however much Tracer joked that he’d been taking care of her for the last ten years and really should enjoy his retirement. But mostly, it had been a good day for her, and if she was feeling a little misty herself, it was nothing but the idea that she was so deeply loved, and that not everyone got to experience that in their lives.

She was born under a lucky star, and the last year or so was only a bump in that road near the end of it, a bit like the jar before you leave the pavement. And even that was only her health, wasn’t it? 

Moira could take her life--and as happy as she was knowing Moira died never knowing how badly she had hurt Tracer, it did sting a bit to know that was how it would go down in the books--but Moira had never managed to take anything more dear to her. Her family. Her friends. The general sense that she was loved and cared for. Even her mind was sharp and busy as ever, which admittedly made her body’s disobedience a bit more annoying, but she was grateful to have her wits. People would remember her as herself. That was important. 

If anything, the relative frustration and pain of the last few months had made her feel all the more loved. Had showed that it must be true.

So nothing was all bad, really. 

Night had fallen over London, and as tired as she was, Tracer still could not bring herself to go to bed. Winston had asked gently if she was ready, and she had just shook her head and told him she wanted to stay up awhile. It was nice, this deck she and Winston had put together on the roof of the place. He’d doubted her, when she’d suggested the project, and wondered how he would ever possibly use it, and told her there was no need to put the work in. Sometimes Winston had to be talked into having nice things for himself. He probably would have approved the project so much earlier if he’d known how much time Tracer would spend up here. 

The smell of London filled her lungs. She should be more afraid of death, she supposed, but she could never quite let go of the idea that even when she was gone, she wouldn’t be. Not that she believed in an afterlife, really, but she also didn’t not believe in an afterlife, and she’d seen London built on its own ashes so many times, that she had to imagine that even when she was gone, the bombed out wall of what was left of her would be built around, become part of a Pret or a pub or even just a ruin where the pigeons nested. 

What was tough was knowing when the building needed to come down, which she hadn’t yet quite figured out for herself. It was one thing to be gone in an instant, a bomb dropped, a moment and then just the rubble. It was another to sway into disrepair, to try and pinpoint the day you had to tell those who had lived in your heart that there were homes elsewhere, and it was time to seek them. When the little joys of being were outweighed by the reality of decay. 

“Lena?” 

The lightness she felt at hearing her name in that soft brogue was enough to tell her that day had not yet come, and she would keep on for awhile yet. Tracer thought she might live one hundred years, and never tire of hearing Emily’s voice. It was impossible. 

“It’s grown late. You’ll tire yourself.” A kiss on the top of her head, and then Emily sat down on the edge of the daybed where Tracer found herself spending much of her time lately. 

Tracer chuckled. “Too late. Doesn’t take much anymore, it’s just,” she shook her head, “a bit aggravating, right? There’s so much I’d like to do in a day, not that I can do much of it anyway, but I’d like to at least imagine it. I get frustrated so--” 

Emily nodded kindly as she rubbed Tracer’s shoulder, tight with the constancy of spasms that ran through it, but as Tracer’s eyes flicked upwards, she saw the tears on the edge of Emily’s eyes. Not the time to talk about it. Never seemed to be.

Emily would miss her, and there was no real getting around that, no matter how she tried. Tracer had already spent plenty of time writing and rewriting a letter to be published when she was gone, Pharah sitting alongside her on her small laptop, to try and let Emily know in the most public way that she’d like her to move on, and wasn’t only saying it, that she meant it, nagging over the words until Pharah had offered to remove the burden of waiting for death from her. 

Pharah joked like that, more than most, because Pharah was kind, in her way, and knew Tracer needed someone to be able to joke with. It was a favor to her. When Tracer had told her, she had asked to be treated the same as ever, and to Pharah’s eternal credit, she came very close. 

“Never mind me.” she grinned “Tired and rambling, right? It was a wonderful birthday, Em. Marvelous, really. Been thinking back on me birthdays---I’ve been so lucky. I am so lucky. Thank you, for everything you’ve done, for it.” 

She was tired, and her body jerked and shook, but she was still, in this moment, the master of a failing plane, and managed to but her hand on Emily’s leg. Emily curled up next to her and rested her head on Tracer’s shoulder, letting out a little sniffle as she drew her arm around her.

“It’s not fair for you.” 

“Me?” Tracer kissed her forehead “Oh, none of that now. Not for me. What’s fair, any’ow? Should ‘ave been killed a thousand times over, love, but I wasn’t, Was I? Plenty were,” she muttered, half to herself, “And I noone in whole of me life ‘as ever wanted to ‘ear it but I’ve ‘ad the sense for years that I wasn’t precisely meant to get me pension. Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy if you like but I--really, who it isn’t fair to is you. Life’s been more than fair to me.” 

Emily said nothing, but wiped her eyes and took Tracer’s hand in hers. 

“I mean really, think about it. Not a bad life at all, on balance. Pilot. Top Flight Instructor. Commander. Bloody ‘ero of London. I lived more in thirty-six years than most people would if they ‘ad twice the time. So it’s all right. I made it all count. Course I want more, but, I do tend to rush through things, don’t I? Just me way, don’t stop to admire the view much. Some people are like that, like fireworks, or, oh I don’t know, a stick of gum. And,and at the fag end of it all, I get to be in London, taken care of instead of sent away, when by rights I should have been shot down, or shot through, or lost forever. To be sitting on a London roof in a pile of pillows? Not precisely the gulag, love, and I won’t be greedy. Em, look at me, please.” 

Emily sat up and looked at her, and Tracer squeezed her hand. 

“I lived long enough to find you, and to love you.That’s all that matters. I ‘ave led a bloody charmed life. I ‘ave. Truly. I could not possibly ask for more.” she grinned, “That’s a lie actually,  would ‘ave loved to get all the way through to the King so as I could watch his bloody face when I refused the knighthood publicly, but,” she chuckled, “We can’t ‘ave everything.” 

Emily gave a little chuckle and shook her head. “You’re awful, Lena. Happy Birthday. My prince charming.” 

“And it really was, Em. It is! What do you say,” she winced as she tried to sit up a little, her body jerking her back against the back of the daybed, until Emily balanced her, “What do you say, we ‘ave Win come up with that last bottle of champagne? Toast to ourselves till midnight? Just the three of us?” 

Emily nodded, the teeth poking thought on her smile. 

“That’s what I’d like to see, tonight. Thank you love. Just us three, and your smile.” 

The clouds and fog and too much light of London parted for a moment, just a few stars peeking through the grey and haze. They sparkled down on Tracer, who sparkled back a bit, the diamonds of the natural world. Bright against the night. 

Bit of light in everything.

[ziggyzagreus]

Bitter Revival

[Pairing: Zagreus/Thanatos - Fandom: Hades (Video Game)]

[Rating: Teen+ Audiences]

[Important Tags: Light Angst, Argument, First Run Spoilers]

[Fic Type: SFW Drabble]

[AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493994 ]

[Summary: Zagreus made it to the surface for the first time, only to be dragged back under.]

[Note: This is basically one hour of me being pissed off after my first run, coincidentally the first time I met Thanatos, too! Great timing.]

~~~

Zagreus had been frustrated with dying before – of course it was irritating to be put through excruciating pain again and again, only left to drag himself from the sticky river of blood and do it all over again. Expelling the irritated tension in his body, he would chat briefly with those that supported him, catching them up and once again saying thanks for their tolerance. Then the prince would stop by Cerberus to apologize for this tease of disappearing indefinitely only to come back and give the big mutt false hope.

Afterwards, he would take the berating from his father with an eyeroll and a shrug, and be on his way. A simple routine, mundane and frustrating, but never angering. In fact, more or less it just gave him something greater to undertake than that blasted paperwork.

But this time was different. This time, the prince seethed. The house was quiet at his return, the usual milling number of Shades absent. Even the ever-present scratching of his father’s quill seemed softer, more distant. Hypnos’ snores were not present either.

It was quiet, and Zagreus lie there in the river for a moment before dragging himself up the steps, the wet and sticky sloshing sound grating against his ears, the sound repulsive to his pounding skull. He pushed a hand through his thickly soaked hair, almost cursing when some dripped down his forehead around his eyes.

Zagreus took the few steps out of the Styx, glaring at the ugly trim carpet and how smoke rose from its fabrics when his feet met the floor. The rushing sound in his ears made him feel as though he was still in the river itself; and admittedly, the prince would rather lie down for another moment before pushing forward yet again.

He had made it all the way through – to the surface, past his father, to his mother… and for what? To be gone in moments? It was unfair. Why death always came to him was like a curse, and the thought of putting up with it again made Zagreus’ blood boil for the first time since he set out.

Death approaches. It always did, eventually.

The prince barely managed to stop short before knocking into someone, spotting the hovering, bare grey feet adorned in golden anklets. Of course. Normally, Zagreus would sigh with a fond exasperation, quickly thinking of excuses for his past actions. The leaving, the lies, all that.

But now he resigned to close his eyes briefly, biting back a growl, and raised his head to meet the piercing gaze of Death Incarnate himself.

“Zagreus.” Thanatos said simply, his tone dull and dampened, yet echoing all at once. “You made it to the surface.”

“I did, Than,” Zagreus replied, only his own words came out more scornful, harsher than he had ever intended. Well, suppose it was warranted in his current state. It was the sentiment carried forward from his true feelings.

“I’m sorry to see you back here then, although it possibly could have done some good to mention to me where you were off to. I could have been present along the way.”

“Oh, you were plenty present, Thanatos. I don’t recall being spared any of the pleasantries of a full death ticket,” Zagreus did not have time nor energy for this. He pushed past Thanatos, tried not to notice his gaze boring into his back.

Thanatos followed behind, his own glare then tangible despite persistence unlike his usual disposition. “I risk much for you, wasting my time out there when I have enough to do on my own. The least you could have done was informed me of your departure. Or consult in me about your brief success. Zag.”

“Shove off, Thanatos, I have to go back. I don’t have time for this.”

“You seem to have plenty of time to run out there and destroy things again, things I need to help fix I’m afraid.”

“Thanatos,” Finally halting his pace, Zagreus groaned again and turned around, threading a hand through his now dry hair, pushing it back from his forehead and letting the brief pain of the pull at his roots ground him. “Consider for a moment that I don’t care much for logistical things like that. Consider, maybe, that the only thing that matters to me is reaching my mother, my birth mother, and asking her the questions that have plagued me for… however long it’s been. Please, I’m asking you to see that and maybe leave me be when I go back out there. “

Thanatos had ceased drifting forward to meet him, instead regarding the prince with stoic expression that solidified like the hard edges of a marble bust. A change flickered in the golden light of his eyes, somehow the shade turning slightly darker. “Mother Nyx was just as much a mother to you as she was to us, Zagreus. But is that all we are now, a ‘logistical’ matter? I would have expected more from a lifelong friend.”

“Some life this is then, being lied to.” Zagreus scowled, for Thanatos was turning his words against him. Surely, as his lifelong friend, Zagreus knew that Death Incarnate was aware exactly of his thought process; that he never took his friends and family for granted, that those who cared for him such as Thanatos and Nyx were the few things that made this claustrophobic Underworld experience bearable. But no, Thanatos’ own grudge towards the prince himself for attempting to leave on impulse must take the foreground, always a quarrel with them. “I’ll be frank now, then. Kindly leave me alone, Thanatos, keep your death far away from me. Because I’m going back to her, to Persephone.”

Thanatos did not flinch, but his upper lip twitched in the tease of a scowl, and that was as good as a recoil. Zagreus took little pleasure from inflicting cruel words, but something about this defiance felt good. He raised his chin, glaring Thanatos down, and could have sworn those hovering feet drifted ever so slightly further towards the ground.

Golden eyes darted over towards the great desk of Lord Hades, but the busy deity seemed lastingly unperturbed. Still, Thanatos spoke softly. “You know I cannot help you, Zagreus. I… I have a duty to stick to, and I cannot stray from that. Even for you.”

An unspoken hesitation in his words spoke volumes, and once again a shift in hue of those beautiful eyes made Zagreus’ heart stutter, something beat and clench in his chest. Still, if Thanatos would stew over a grudge for this long, then two could play at that game. Zagreus’ own started today, or night, whenever it was that his presence was ripped from his mother after all he worked for. Dragged under by the cold and cruel hands of death itself, colder than the wind and snow that whipped about Greece on the surface, again and again. But that time it had hurt even more, an injustice for once clearing the prince of blame for his own passing.

Zagreus knew exactly where the sudden surge of anger came from, but not why or how he allowed it to burst out, right to Thanatos’ unsuspecting face. “Fuck off, Than, truly. You do your work, that’s fine – You do what you are meant to do. But I? I don’t know, I hardly do, and here I must find my mother. Maybe, if I had more than a few painful, bleeding moments with her, then I’d feel some sense of belonging and drive akin to how you treat your work, yes? And if considering you as a logistical obstacle hurts, well, I’ll have you know I’m quite insulted to be seen as your work as well then. My constant death is monotonous to you, and for that, I say please fuck off.”

The House was so quiet. Zagreus’ strange eyes burned, and he would be remiss if not to mention that a cruel little vengeful glee spiked his adrenaline when he saw the way Thanatos looked, features stolid but the well-memorized tells of his timidity betraying him. For the first time since they began speaking, Thanatos looked away, another sneaking glance to the grand desk at the forefront of the room.

Hades had ceased writing for a pause, watching his son before a rumbling scoff left with an exhale of breath. Then, the scratching of the quill resumed.

Thanatos swallowed, looking back to Zagreus.

“Fine,” He whispered, that voice steady at this low volume. Zagreus wondered how it would sound should he speak louder. “I shall leave you entirely to your devices. Expect not to hear from me until I come to collect you back to the river. And that means you will receive little of my help, too.”

“As if you were helping from the start.”

“Zag, please don’t take that tone with me again.”

Zagreus wavered then, his brow relaxing as a soft sigh left his lips. But he could not apologize, he could not relent merely minutes after such an outburst. Squaring his shoulders, he  nodded so briefly it was hardly caught. But Thanatos saw. And Zagreus turned on his heel.

Death Incarnate disappeared with a burst of green and grey. The prince only fleetingly wondered on what business he originally came to the House, to leave without finishing the original task.

Unless coming to gloat was the initial intent. No, gloating was not in Than’s nature… Zagreus scrubbed a hand over his face with a guilty groan, and marched right through his room into the tiny courtyard to the rear of the house.

And Centaur Hearts were scarce going forward in his escapes; with the added pact from his father, Zagreus cursed the odds he had accidentally and foolishly stacked against himself.

[themidnightfarmer]

Bushwhacked || Mina & Jared

Timing: This past week sometime.

Location: Town somewhere

Tagging: @drowningisinevitable

Description: Found hiding out, Mina kindly helps Jared commit a crime.

Triggers: None <3

He was incredibly tired, but he hadn’t been able to get the thought out of his mind. Jared left the farm for the first time in a week only to find himself in the bushes outside the general store in town. It was ridiculous really,  but all 6 foot 1 of him was currently hunkered down as low as he could get without being completely flat out. He wasn’t very good at hiding like this, he wasn’t very good at ‘sneaky’ at all really. So it was no wonder when his protruding foot caught the attention of a passing person by tripping them up a little. In the nymphs panic about being potentially caught by his target he shushed the woman and waved a hand for her to get down as well. “Down, down!! I can’t get caught, come on help a guy out!” he pleaded in what he hoped wasn’t as pathetic a tone as he heard himself. “.......you didn’t happen to see the man in the long coat did you? I can’t see anything from in here…”

Walking was kind of awful, especially when Mina did it for too long. But it was nothing that she hadn’t felt before, and it was nothing that she couldn’t grow used to. She simply had to push through it. She was so busy putting one foot in front of the other that she didn’t even notice the large foot poking out front behind a bush. She tripped, her bad leg giving out a bit as she stumbled, trying to catch herself. She was so startled she didn’t realize that she was near another Fae until she was on hunched down next to the man, trying not to grimace against the pain. “I-- alright, alright!” She stuck her head out, trying to see if there was anyone around them that matched his description. “I didn’t see any sort of man, unfortunately, no.” She crouched back behind the the bush. “Is there a reason we’re-- you’re looking for a man in a long coat?”

Jared was usually very intune with others, if he’d been paying attention like usual he’d have noticed that the other was uncomfortable in her place beside him and apologize for causing any issues. But as it was, he was very intent on finding out anything he could about where the man in the coat had traded his goods. Eyes on the door to the store again he absently responded to the woman. “He’s trading illegally, and what he’s trading isn’t being treated right.” Jared felt the tingling in his fingertips then as he readjusted his position to poke his own head out the top of the bushes once again. It distracted him a little and he looked back at the woman curiously, finally giving her the attention he should. “....you’re uh…?”

“What is he trading?” Mina asked, now more than a bit interested in what was going on. She’d been languishing in the pool for far too long, unable to train or help anyone in anyway. She felt useless. But… if someone, some man in a trench coat, was doing things that he wasn’t supposed to be, well… perhaps she could help out. She looked at the store, then back at the man next to her. The Fae next to her. She swallowed a bit and smiled weakly. “Yes, and so are you?” She didn’t go into detail about what she was. They were both Fae, that was supposed to be all that mattered, right? She did have to fight against the unease. Fae weren’t wrong. She wasn’t wrong. She had to keep telling herself that. Her dad had just been confused. She was beginning to like Deirdre, and she thought of Felix fondly. This was fine. “I’m, ah, Mina. My name is Mina.”

“Animals.” was the simple answer. And it was what Jared decided to stick to, even if the other was fae as well that didn’t mean they shared the same outlook on his kids. His trust in his kind had been shattered recently and it was going to be hard to claw back. He did however nod back in agreement when asked if he was as well. No need to hide it, they could tell if he was one just as he could tell if she was. “Jared.” he introduced in return. “That guy has passed on a poorly treated animal to someone and I want to find out who and take it back…. It’s a little bit like dognapping but...for the best of the animal if that makes sense?” he left out the part where he could feel the anguish of the creature still so it must be semi close to their location. “Will you help me? I think that guy is getting really suspicious of me….but if I had a new face it might work out. Not asking you to do anything wild just help me keep an eye on him?” It was a lot to ask a stranger, but she hadn’t stood up and left so he had hopes that she was at least intrigued enough to help him watch for a while.

“Animals,” Mina repeated back slowly, before giving the man a nod. She could work with just the word animals. She’d helped her dad with jobs that had less information than that. She took in his name, but that was secondary to what was going on. So, what Jared was doing was illegal. But… what happened before also seemed illegal. Was this two wrongs making a right? She didn’t know Jared, and she had no naturally innate abilities to figure out whether or not he was truly honest in his intentions, but-- but he seemed earnest. He seemed to genuinely want to help this animal, and he also seemed to genuinely want her help. And Mina wanted nothing more than to be useful. She really wanted to be useful. “Okay, I’ll help you with this,” she said carefully. She lifted up her the leg of her pants, showing him the bandages wrapping her leg. “I won’t be able to do any sort of running or anything like that, but I can offer a fresh pair of eyes, and I can… handle my own should any sort of situation happen.” She hoped it didn’t come to that. She had no idea to hurt humans, even if they were bad. “I want to help you.”

The nymph smiled widely when she agreed to help him with this. It would be much easier to keep an eye on the man when one of them didn’t have to be hiding in bushes all the time. Jared was pretty noticeable because of his height, not to mention he was confident he’d been spotted at least in 3 different locations by the man only today, and that can’t be taken as anything but suspicious. “Thanks, no need to be doing any running or anything wild, we’re all stealth today I just want to know where he gets the animals, and maybe see the person he just left the dog with.” He tripped over the word dog noticeably but tried to play it off with a small fake coughing fit just after. He is pounding on his chest as if the coughing had been real only to stop abruptly and whisper frantically. “We gotta move he’s off into the next store!”

“No need to thank me, really,” Mina said, remembering Deirdre’s thoughts on thanks. She was trying to curb herself on saying that word, on owing people and having them owe her. And Jared seemed kind, and he seemed to care about the animals that they were trying to find. He didn’t need to owe her anything. “Are you alright?” she asked as he started coughing. She reached out, only to stop short instead of patting his back. He might not like to be touched. It was rude to just touch people without their permission. However, he straightened up relatively quickly, and she looked to see that a man matching Jared’s description was leaving a store. “Okay, okay, let’s follow him. And, ah, try not to look too suspicious? Casual. Let’s try to look casual.” Mina had been a part of enough stakeouts and tailing situations that she knew how to look casual in situations like this. They left the cover of the bushes and started following after the man in question, keeping a reasonable distance away from him.

Looking casual was easier said than done. Jared couldn’t seem to get his limbs to remember how he walked on a day to day basis, he was half creeping like a silent film villain and half taking long strides to keep up. He kept his head looking to the side, he was certainly not made for stealth like this. Not in the daylight and on the street at least. When the man in the coat turned to look back Jared fully ducked into a doorway. Despite his suspicious action he wasn’t seen and the man in the coat drew up alongside a car and leaned down to speak to the person inside. A wriggling blanket seen in the car trunk through the glass. “Look look, there’s the animal! I knew he hadn’t been paid yet, of course they’d linger around.” He hissed before looking at her worriedly. “Do you think we could….it’s a lot to ask but…. distract?”

Equal parts amused and bemused as she crept after the man with Jared, Mina followed after him as best as she could. He was much taller and nimble, despite his awkward gait, but she managed to keep up with him. As soon as the saw the man struggling with the animal, though, she was decided. She said she would help. This solidified it. The worried look on Jared’s face, the way that the poor creature had been put in the boot of a car. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. “We can definitely distract, of course we can. Just… how do you want to do this?” she asked. Her palms were sweating a bit, scales breaking out on the backs of her hands. She rubbed at them. “I could throw something, or we could try and talk to him.” Potentially promise bind him into giving them the animal back, though she had no idea how that would go. It could go very, very well, like when she’d managed to promise bind a man all those months ago in the Stacked Deck. Or it could go, for lack of a better phrase, piss poor. Mina didn’t have the best track record with promises.

“I don’t think this guy is very dangerous, just really shifty you know? Deals in things he shouldn’t. He’s seen me before being…..admittedly equally as shifty while I was following him but he doesn’t know you at all, he looked back at you and didn’t say a word do you think...you could ask them for directions? I could pop the trunk and have the critter in my arms in no time. Of course you don’t have to if you feel weird, I do know it’s a lot to ask of someone I just met.” Jared tried to explain his plan but felt rather guilty. He'd understand if she didn’t want to do it, but it was all that came to mind. He was actively horrible at being a fae, and as such he hadn’t even considered attempting to promise bind anyone. He always seemed to resort to human movie tactics, and they surprisingly worked a lot of the time. He figured this was likely because no one expected anyone to employ them in real life.

“Shifty, right, got it.” Mina could handle shifty. Truthfully, a lot of humans, people in generally, really, in this town were quite shifty. She herself was occasionally shifty, had done plenty of shifty, even harmful, things in her life. She couldn’t fault Jared for being shifty, not really. “I can distract them, yes, just… I need a moment. But I’ll walk over and, ah, start talking. I’m pretty good at rambling, so… You should have plenty of time.” Mina was a very good distraction, and she could do this. She gave Jared a nod and then limped, a bit over exaggeratingly, over to the two men talking. They stopped when she arrived, frowning and staring at her, and she gave them a nervous smile. No acting was needed for that. “Hi! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m just-- I hurt myself a bit ago, and it’s still kind of sore and-- I’m really lost--” The first small lie made her immediatly start to feel sick, but she pushed through it, “Do you think you could point me in the direction of a gas station, maybe? Again, I’m so sorry, I’m really sorry. I’m usually not so scatterbrained! But I’ve got all these test coming up, and I don’t feel great, and, wow, is it kind of hot out here? Weird for December, huh?” She fanned herself, the two men appearing increasingly concerned with every word that came out of her mouth and, oh, there it was. Her nose started bleeding. They rushed over to her as she squeezed her nose, trying to stem the bleeding. She hoped this bought Jared enough time.

He watched her go with trepidation, Jared didn’t want to put someone in harm's way with this issue but he was pleased that he was allowed to be right about some strangers, not everyone was so bad. She was kind to be helping with such little information. Mina started to rumble and Jared stifled an encouraging grin so as not to distract her. With both mens eyes on her he crept up behind the car. With as little sound as he could he reached up to press the button on the trunk. Hand on the lid he eased it open, glancing through the back window as he stood up to check on his accomplice. He was shocked to see blood and instantly got a move on. He took off his coat and bundled it over the top of the creature in the back, discarding the blanket over the top of a toolbox in the hopes that it would fair as a decoy. Standing up straighter he tucked the moving bundle under one arm and tried his best to cover the noises with a cough, coming around the car to put a tentative hand on Minas shoulder. “Hey, I’ll give you a ride home okay?” he offered kindly. Looking up at the suspicious dealer, and the curious buyer in turn and then hoping Mina would catch on. “Been looking for you for ages you know? Here.” he handed her a handkerchief with his free hand for her nose and tucked the creature behind her back with the other as he stuck close. Managing only bearly to hold the creature with one hand as he pretended to put a comforting hand on her back. 

“Oh!” Mina startled as Jared came up behind her, so busy with her ramblings that she hadn’t even noticed him. She took the handkerchief appreciatively and used it to stem the bit of blood coming out of her nose. “Goodness, there you are. I was just telling these gentlemen that I was lost. I’m so glad you’re here. She looked at the men, hoping that they were too confused by her and this entire situation to attempt to try and talk to them much more as she walked away with Jared, using her body to shield the little bundle he was carrying with them. “Don’t look back at them,” she murmured. “I’m going to laugh like you said something extraordinarily funny,” and she did, though it was in part because of all the nerves. “And we’re just going to keep walking until we’re far enough away.” And they did, though her ankle was killing her. Mina had walked through far, far worse conditions. This was nothing. She was just glad to help Jared, as she looked curiously at the squirming thing that he was holding. “You were able to get the animal, I see.”

Jared was incredibly anxious as they made their way down the street, he couldn’t even manage to play along very convincingly as she laughed at nothing. His own returning laugh was so strained he felt it must have gained them unwanted attention, which just served to make him more antsy as they moved. They walked and walked, Jared could have sworn he heard the car engine turn on as well but he did as he was told and didn’t even attempt to glance behind them until they were around a corner and out of sight. Flattening his back against the wall he clutched the bundle to his chest and sighed in relief. He could feel the creature in his arms, sedated but alive. “We did, crap we totally pulled it off.” He shifted the blankets in his arms a little and a small patch of frizzy fur was exposed before a small nose poked out of the fabric. “And she’s gorgeous, a little battered but she’ll heal.” He beamed at Mina then. “You did me a huge favor just then.” the idea of being in debt to her was heavy on his mind so he offered instead. “I’ll have to get you some coffee or flowers in return, sound good?”

“We did, well, you did! I just helped!” Mina smiled at the other fae. This was nice. This was pleasant. He wasn’t a monster, she wasn’t a monster. There were just two people, helping a small animal. “Oh, no, it wasn’t a favor. I just helped to help. You don’t owe me for this, I assure you.” She’d done this because she wanted to, not because she ever thought this would end with her gaining something. Mina didn’t like when people owed her; it made her feel strange. Instead, she got a closer look at the creature in Jared’s arms, only to leap back, stumbling a bit. “Oh my,” she said, eyes wide. She looked up at him, perplexed. “That’s-- You--” He had a monster. He was holding a monster, and he wasn’t trying to kill it, and what was she supposed to do with this information? “What?”

There was a wash of relief when she released him from the sense of owing her a favor of some kind. It was nice to think that not all fae tried their hardest to trap others in their words. He tried so hard not to himself after all, he’d thought maybe it was a leftover trait from growing up in a human household. Her reaction as the pup snuffled her way out of the blanket blearily caused Jared to recoil from MIna, just as she had from him and the bundle. He rushed, he wanted this kind fae to understand. “I’m a nymph. Vicious creatures...she’s like a part of me, I couldn’t just leave her to be mistreated… you can understand that right?” He looked at her pleadingly, if this went poorly she might just turn the corner and flag down the car setting out to drive away. “She doesn’t deserve to be mistreated.”

Swallowing tightly, Mina looked at the Fae in front of her with new eyes. A nymph of vicious creatures. A nymph of beast. But the creature in his arms didn’t look particularly vicious. It was small and gentle-looking, and Mina felt a bit sick that her first thought upon seeing it had been that it should be hurt. But a beast was a beast. Except when it wasn’t. If the two of them, she and this kind fae who had been nothing but polite and only wanted to help small creatures, could be considered as something more than monsters, if she could be friends with zombies and werewolves, then could a beast like the one before her be something that didn’t need to be put down? Dogs only needed to be put down when they were rabid, when they were a danger. This creature didn’t look like a danger. Not presently, at least. “I understand,” she said, truth in her words even if her voice was slightly strangled. “You-- it-- She doesn’t deserve to be mistreated. No matter what she is.” Mina felt somewhat faint. The longer she was in this town, the more everything that she’d once understood to be truth seemed to be twisting and turning itself into something she could no longer properly recognize. “I understand.”

The hint of a smile returned to Jared's face as he seemed to have encouraged the other fae to really think about the situation. She was quiet for a moment and then she spoke in confirmation of what he’d said. It felt wonderful to have changed her mind in this moment, even if it was ONLY this moment, he’d take it. The car drove past the corner of the street they were standing in and Jared covered over the blanket in his arms with his coat, hoisting the small creature closer to him as she began to wake up properly. “I really appreciate all your help, she’s going to get the care she needs because of you. It’s a kind thing you’ve done for us.” Looking up and down the street Jared stepped away from the wall he’d been leaning on and one handedly dug around in his pocket for his phone. “Can I give you my number, if you ever run into anything you need help with creature wise I can take a look for you or something. But I really have to get her out of the sunlight, people might talk if they see her you know.”

Swallowing, Mina took Jared’s phone, putting his number in hers before handing it back to him. She sent him a text, a simple “this is mina” to let him know her number. “I--” She’d done it, originally, to be kind. No creature should suffer. She’d grown up believing that. But she’d also grown up believing that creatures like that were monsters. The only way to ensure they didn’t suffer, didn’t hurt themselves or others, was to do away with them. “I try to be kind,” she said quietly, looking away from him. “It was good to meet you, Jared.” And it was, good in a way that didn’t feel particularly good, though it did feel eye-opening. She looked back up at him and gave him a small smile. “I will keep that in mind, I appreciate it. Go. I’m sure you need to get i-- her somewhere safe. You stay safe,” she said, meaning it. Jared seemed like the kind of guy to get himself into trouble trying to do something like this. It was a little worrying. But she gave him a wave, made sure that he and the little creature were not being followed, and then started walking away, shaking her head a bit. Mina didn’t really know how to feel.

[inavagrant-a]

don’t ever do that again.

prompt | @cruxtide​

Oh, he can feel the captain’s ire from where he stands. Even the most dense individual on this planet would be able to read the room and the looming threat in this general space. It was quite the sight, to see her expression shift from a mixture of shock and horror to one of boiling rage. 

“Is something the matter, captain?” He asks with innocence made out of glass. “C-Captain Beidou I’m sorry! I-I was drunk, I didn’t know where I was going.” A crewman of hers, who’s on his knees before Scaramouche, squirms at the hold Scaramouche has on his hair, having long given up on struggling or trying to pry the Harbinger’s claws for that only earned him more injuries, more hurt, and more torturous pain. A few of his teeth missing, a bloody nose, and an eye sealed shut, almost like it was beaten to a pulp until the nerves could no longer hold on and have given up. “Oh him?” The harbinger inquires, pulling on the man’s hair. “I caught him in places he shouldn’t be and then he began to give me a very hard time when I so kindly told him to please excuse himself out. So... I had to teach him a lesson, I’m sure you understand.” This idiot was getting far too close to research material he shouldn’t have been able to even catch a glimpse of. Admittedly it’s a fault from the subordinates from Scaramouche’s end, but damn him if he’s just going to let some idiot roam around because he was piss drunk. “He belongs to you correct?” He asks like he doesn’t know the answer to that already. She’s practically killing him with her eye which is quite entertaining. “Here you go,” he lets go of the man’s hair and with his foot kicks him forward which makes him fall face first before he tries to scramble to where Beidou is. Fortunate for him all Scaramouche damage was his face and nothing else.

Scaramouche tries not to laugh at this pitiful sight. A grown ass man scrambling to hide behind a woman, how pathetic. “Oh?” He crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head slightly to one end at her words that drip with venom. “Then make sure that never happens again.” His friendly and oblivious demeanor fading into thin air as his eyes lock with hers, a threat of his own tucked neatly in between. The next one might not be so fortunate, but he’s hopeful there won’t be a next time.

[calpalirwin]

Blood is Thicker Than Water

Summary and A/N: Our little family has a very strong understanding that biology only goes so far. The rest of the world seems to be a little bit slower at grasping the concept, especially now that the twins are born. AKA: the pissed off Ashton fic

Word Count: ~1k

And away, and away we go!

__

“So, before we delve into the interview here, congratulations are in order. Ashton, you just became a father. How’s that’s been adjusting to being a first-time father to twins?”

“Biological dad,” Ashton amended, his jaw tensing ever so slightly. “Uh, but it’s great. A little hectic admittedly because there’s two of them this time around. But, my wife and I couldn’t be happier with the newest additions to our family.”

“And are the twins going to call you ‘daddy,’ or are we still sticking with ‘papa’ like your stepkids call you.”

Again, Ashton’s jaw ticked, tongue clicking in his cheek, his fingers curling into fists. “Henry and Hope will eventually call me ‘Papa’ just like Mason and Bailey do now,” was the tightly controlled response.

“Wonderful, wonderful. And I bet Luke’s being plenty helpful in showing you the ropes of how to bond with your kids, like he learned to do with Posy.”

“I’m sorry?” both men asked, leaning forward slightly, certain their ears were playing tricks on them. There was no way their interviewer could be this dense.

“Well, Luke, I imagine your bonding experience with Posy was different from yours with Lily. And I imagine Ashton’s is very similar.”

“No,” Luke shook his head quickly. “No. The bonding experience I had with Posy was the exact same one I had with Lily.”

“Yeah, and I was in the hospital with my wife when she had Bailey. I’m not sure what you’re trying to insinuate here. That our bond with our ‘step’ kids is somehow less than the one we have with those who share our DNA?” Ashton put air quotes around the word ‘step’ and physically gagged on actually saying it.

“Well…”

“That’s such bullshit…” Luke muttered under his breath, giving a sad shake of his head.

“Say that louder, Luke,” Ashton encouraged, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“That’s bullshit,” Luke repeated in a stronger tone. “There’s so much more to being a parent than DNA, and to suggest otherwise is downright insulting.” The blonde unclipped his mic, setting it down on a small end table beside him, before rising to his feet. “We’re done here.”

“Exactly,” Ashton nodded in agreement, but not rising to his feet before taking his chance to give the interviewer a piece of his mind. “In my opinion, there is a huge difference between being fathers and being dads. I have a father. But, I am a dad. To all four of my kids. The same way Luke is a dad to both of his daughters. When you’re there for these kids every day like we have, there’s no ‘step’ anything about it. So, I believe, what you meant to say was ‘Hey, Ashton, congrats on the twins, how is it adjusting to having two at once compared to one at a time?’ because I am a parent to four fantastic kids, not two. Period. End of discussion. And end of interview.” With his final words, Ashton rushed to his feet, ripping off his mic and dropping it on the floor, before following Luke out the door.

~~~

News of Ashton and Luke storming out 10 minutes into an interview hit the tabloids like a tidal wave, to the point where the two men were directed by management to lay low for a while. It was heavily suggested that the men make a formal apology for their “unprofessionalism” and get an interview rescheduled, but after some more choice words, and backing from Calum and Michael, an apology was never made and interviewing through that particular channel again was quickly scratched off from future promo lists.

Laying low, however, didn’t stop paparazzi from finding Finn to get his side of things. “Mr. Campbell!” one of them shouted as Finn walked from his office to his car. “Could we have a quick word?”

“About what?” Finn asked, neither slowing or quickening his pace. 

“Did you find it at all irritating of Ashton referring to your children as his?”

“Do you have another team out pestering Cory with your inane questions?” Finn asked in lieu of answering. Then, “Actually, don’t answer that. No. I’m not the least bit irritated at Ashton referencing Mason and Bailey as his. Or jealous because that’s the actual word you’re looking for. No. Ashton’s relationship with Mason and Bailey doesn’t diminish my own with them, anymore than mine diminishes his. I fully agree with what Luke said about there being more to being a parent than just simple DNA. I think it’s very easy to paint biological and step parents as sworn enemies, and it is unfortunate that that is some people’s experience. But that is not my family’s experience. Nor will it ever be. And honestly, the fact that the world cannot seem to wrap it’s head around the idea that children can have 4 parents- and you’ll be smart to notice that I’m omitting ‘biological’ and ‘step’ and I do that for a reason- is frankly baffling. Actually, I would argue that it has far more to say on those who would willingly shit on the concept of children having multiple parents who love than unconditionally than it will ever say about how my own family operates. Now, if you’ll kindly excuse me, I’m on my way home to see my wife and kids.” Finn’s calm and steady tone gave off the impression that he was bored rather than annoyed, his words holding no malice, only simple fact. 

He opened his car to get in, but paused briefly. “Oh,” he added, a thought coming to him, “and when you put this in the latest celebrity/entertainment news, if there is even the smallest indication that you diminished anyone of my family member’s relationship to another family member’s, or twisted my words in any way to suit your own narrative, I will personally make sure you see the end of this riveting career you call journalism. And yes, that includes any mention of the word ‘biological,’ ‘step-relationship,’ or, God forbid, ‘real.’ And if you have to think about whether or not it qualifies, chances are it doesn’t. Any questions? No? Good. Have a nice rest of your evening.”

__

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[itsclydebitches]

Geralt and Yen: Relationship Dynamics in The Last Wish

Hi, @dottirselena​! Hope you don’t mind me tagging you. I’m very much a meta person, so when your comments popped up in my email I thought I’d waste some time this afternoon diving into Geralt and Yen’s relationship a bit. For those of you who don’t know, I’m referring to a silly ship post I made and this question attached to it: 

“I’m reading the Last Wish and I don’t understand “Nenneke establishes that Yennefer treats Geralt like dirt”? In fact, it’s the other way around. Apparently they were together and he ditched her without telling her why and she’s furious with him. HE treated HER like dirt. The crystals are supposed to be some sort of half-assed half-baked barely-there “atonement” for his mistake.” 

So far The Last Wish is the only witcher collection I’ve read and thus my knowledge/analysis of the relationship comes purely from that text (the 2007 paperback edition, translation by Danusia Stok. Also beware of spoilers for the short story’s ending from here on out). Admittedly, it would have been far more accurate for me to say that how Nenneke discusses Geralt and Yen’s relationship establishes that she treats him like dirt. Because I don’t think she’s a very reliable witness here. We don’t get to see this fight for ourselves. Rather, we hear Nenneke’s interpretation of it: Geralt “ran away” from Yen, behaved “in a manner not particularly worthy of a mature man” and is now using these gems to “wipe away [his] guilt” (270). That’s what she says, but that’s not necessarily  what happened. There are two sides (at least) to every story. 

Indeed, Geralt immediately refutes two points. The first is when he re-characterizes “running away” by pointing out that Yen was “too possessive.” He’s asserting that he didn’t just ditch her for no reason. Or even a bad reason. His language here suggests that she was mistreating him. He says that “She treated me like---” but notably Nenneke doesn’t let him finish. We don’t get to hear what Yen treated him like---a possession? A slave? A fool? A child?---because Nenneke cuts him off, outright saying, “I don’t give a shit how she treated you,” thereby denying Geralt the right to explain his side of things and, likewise, the reader’s right to get the full picture. He’s attempting to justify leaving and is straight up not allowed to do so. Geralt likewise asserts that the gems are not an atonement for what Nenneke perceives are mistakes, but rather him just trying to help Yen out despite their differences: “You misunderstand. I’m not thinking of appeasing or bribing her. I do owe her something, and the treatment she wants to undergo is apparently very costly. I want to help her, that’s all” (270). Rather than grapple with whether she believes in Geralt’s altruism or not, Nenneke instead goes on to tell him that the money would be useless to Yen anyway. She can make far more far quickly. Thus, the reader doesn’t get to see Nenneke potentially revoke her earlier assumptions. She, again, ignores Geralt’s attempts to explain, likewise leaving the reader with a very strong assertion on her end and only the words Geralt has been able to get in edge-wise on his. This story is imbalanced. 

Nevertheless, by the end of the conversation we’re left with two distinct viewpoints. Since we don’t get to see the fight for ourselves, we have to decide what interpretation we buy into. Do we believe Nenneke, asserting that Geralt treated Yen badly, ran away from his mistakes, and is now trying to get past it in an insulting manner by paying her off? Or do we believe Geralt, asserting that Yen treated him horribly, he left because of that, but he still wants to help her by offering some money for this treatment? 

Personally, I believe Geralt and not just because the person in the relationship probably has a better perspective on the situation than a priestess who sees them only a few times a year and who, notably, spoke to Yen first. We learn that Yen arrived two months ahead of Geralt and thus had that time to sway Nenneke to her version of events before Geralt even showed up. Her view of the situation was set before he ever got the chance to tell his side and, as we’ve established, Nenneke isn’t interested in hearing that. Nevertheless, even though we don’t get to see this specific fight, we do get to see how Geralt and Yen interact when they first meet... and I think Yen treats him like dirt. We see throughout this encounter that she’s a manipulative, vain, and incredibly power hungry person: 

She attacks Geralt. Not because he was in her bedroom but because he dared to be sarcastic towards her, asking which question she wants him to answer after she shoots out three in a row. It’s only Geralt’s witcher abilities that save him, something Yen doesn’t know about when she decides to attack. So she’s willing to greatly harm others when she thinks they’ve been a bit rude (291). 

She clearly values her own beauty and comfort over others’ lives. Geralt reminds her that “time is of the essence” and she still insists on a bath before seeing Dandelion (293-4)

We see how she likes to taunt men and then blame them for the situations she set up. Yen insists that they bathe together, despite Geralt not wanting to bathe at all when his friend is in trouble. She insists that they should be mature about this, “I don’t faint at the sight of a naked man” (294), and is agreeing to have him there while she bathes, yet will later punish him for this. Geralt offers to turn around while she washes and Yen insists that she needs to see his eyes, so she makes herself invisible instead, thereby demanding that he look at her even if he can’t fully see her. Yen also insists that he fasten her dress. She is, in short, flirting with him and Geralt, already being attracted to her, finds himself distracted by the washcloth and soap outlining her form. He doesn’t act on anything and, notably, keeps trying to set up a new situation wherein she can bathe in peace: let me leave, let me turn around, etc. Yen refuses. Geralt keeps trying to be the gentleman, Yen keeps forcing him to engage with her in a flirty, sexual manner using Dandilion’s life and/or voice as the blackmail. Then later Yen re-characterizes this ‘I forced you to bathe/look/touch me’ into Geralt deliberately going after her in an inappropriate manner. She plays the victim: 

“My accounts in Rinde could be settled by anyone, including Chireadan. But you’re the one who’s going to do it because you have to pay me. For your insolence, for the cold way you look at me, for the eyes which fish for every detail, for your stony face and sarcastic tone of voice. For thinking that you could stand face-to-face with Yennefer of Vergerberg and believe her to be full of self-admiration and arrogance, a calculating witch, while staring at her soapy tits. Pay up, Geralt of Rivia!” (310, emphasis mine) 

The thing is, Yen is full of self-admiration and arrogance. She’s so arrogant that for her a punishment of taking away Geralt’s autonomy and framing him for her crimes equals his “crime” of being sarcastic towards her and looking at her breasts while she very deliberately paraded them with the hope that he would look. Because then Yen has an excuse to punish him. This is, notably, a fraught interaction to analyze in this day and age because we’ve grown used to men insisting that women “forced” them to do something. She was taunting me, she clearly wanted it, I couldn’t help myself, etc. It’s a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to blame him in any scenario because sexual violence against women is so prevalent. However, this is not a case of a woman, say, wearing something skimpy and a man deciding to sexualize her while she’s just getting on with her life. Idk about anyone else, but if I insist on taking a bath at a very inappropriate time, insist that you take this bath with me, insist that you have to look at me while I wash/disregard the offer that you’ll turn around, deliberately flirt with you the whole while... and then get pissed that you looked at my breasts? I’m setting up a trap. 

Speaking of traps, when Geralt thanks her for curing Dandilion he finds that there’s another trap set up.  He’s clear about being willing to pay Yen in whatever way she pleases. He’s not trying to get out of this transaction by just offering gratitude, going so far as to say that Yen “treated him more kindly, albeit in a calculated manner, than the majority of your brethren would have done” (307). Which based on what we’ve seen so far is a really low bar. Yet Yen has decided she only wants the genie and is willing to endanger both Geralt and Dandelion to get it. As we know, she uses Geralt as a tool to attack all the men who have slandered her, getting him arrested, beaten up, and thrown into jail. Alongside the innocent Chireadan. It’s only Yen’s likewise “magnanimous” last wish that she has Dandelion make that ensures they won’t both be hanged. We learn later that Dandelion doesn’t actually have control of the genie, his wish is useless from a magical standpoint, but Yen didn’t know that. The story presents a last minute ‘Okay. I guess I won’t let them hang you’ as a kind act... even though it’s Yen’s doing that their lives were in danger in the first place. 

Finally, we see precisely how much a lust for power and her own arrogance has warped Yen’s ability to read the situation she’s in. Geralt insists that the genie will kill her, she haughtily claims she’s not so easy to kill. Yen opens a portal for him to escape through but insists that she doesn’t need to use it. They fight and all Yen can think about is how the genie will get away. She learns that Geralt has the last wish and taunts him with his witcher mutations--- “Humanity,” she said suddenly, smiling nastily” (341)---playing on his emotions to try and get him to make a wish so she can finally try to capture the genie. Key word being “try” considering that we’re told her spells are fading and her legs are shaking. Yen, with even more arrogance, insists she’s still up for the task. Only Geralt can see how that arrogance is going to get her killed. And killed for what? Pure power. We learn earlier on that only a few have ever successfully bottled a genie and with that power you can literally move mountains. As a former hunchback, Yen is desperate to be everything: the most beautiful, the most respected, the most powerful. As far as we know so far, Yen doesn’t want that power for some noble reason like, say, saving a loved one from some otherwise fatal disease. She just has a drive to possess it and she doesn’t care who she has to trample in order to achieve that. An opportunity arises to keep someone from the noose, or to open Geralt a portal? Sure, she’ll do it, but only if it’s convenient. If, you know, saving them from the noose also gets rid of the last wish so she can have her shot at the genie; only if opening a portal also gets him out of her hair so he won’t stop her from attempting to achieve this power. Yen is one of the most selfish characters I’ve come across in a long, long time. Based on what we see in The Last Wish, Yen is only out for herself.  

In contrast, this story establishes that Geralt really is altruistic in many respects. The whole setup here is that he’s willing to do anything, even meddle with a sorceress others are afraid of, to save his friend. Yen agrees to help him before breakfast (again, how magnanimous) because Geralt thought of a “thirsty woman” and brought her apple juice, even with everything else going on (294). The conclusion is Geralt attempting to save Yen despite everyone insisting that to do so is suicide, despite what she’s done to him mere hours before. Geralt likewise uses his last wish to bind them so that Yen will survive her encounter with the genie. That’s admittedly not pure altruism---he clearly desires Yen and wants her to survive for that potential relationship---but the fact remains that he could have wished for anything and screw the woman who used him and a dying friend to gain power. 

All of which is a very long-winded way of saying, yes. Yen does treat Geralt like dirt. She enjoys hurting others if they don’t show her what she perceives as the respect she deserves. She enjoys the attention her new beauty brings her while likewise enjoying punishing men for giving it to her. She wants power above all else and will sacrifice others to achieve it---most notably Geralt. She’s cruel, arrogant, vain, and power-hungry. 

So when we return to where we started, Geralt and Nenneke’s conversation, I know who’s side of the story I believe so far. We’re given two distinct perspectives, Geralt the abandoner now trying to pay Yen off with gems vs. Geralt the mistreated who wants to help Yen despite the horrible way she’s treated him. The Last Wish shows us the dynamic Geralt claims is the truth. The Last Wish provides far more evidence that we should believe Geralt’s side of the tale rather than Nenneke’s: 

Yennefer saw him, jumped up and raised her hand. 

“No!” he shouted, “don’t do this! I want to help you!” 

“Help?” she snorted. “You?” 

“Me.” 

“In spite of what I did to you?”

“In spite of it” (331) 

Based on what we know I think it’s the same situation this time around too. Yen did something---“She treated me like...”---and Geralt is trying to help her “in spite of it,” this time with money for the procedure she desperately wants. We only have Nenneke’s word that Geralt is in the wrong here and her word doesn’t stand up to his explanations or what we get to read for ourselves. 

[hardforbenhardy]

journey | rogerxfem!reader

summary: your life with roger from beginning to end

warnings: really really fluffy stuff, a mention of a miscarriage and death but only in a sentence or two

word count: 3.4k

this one is a bit different to the others; it’s more like a reminiscence from the reader kind of thing but it’s super fluffy and i liked it so i thought i’d post it! :)

Roger and I had been close ever since we were children; I remember so vividly the day I moved into the house next door to his in Truro. Everything was different from that point; I had to go to a new school, make new friends, and lose my old friends. I was deadly afraid, social situations not being my strong point in any way. Being only 5 years old, my parents encouraged me to get along with the other children as they bonded with the adults. Thankfully, this meant Roger and I were practically forced to become friends from the moment we met which was at a welcoming barbeque Winifred and Michael kindly threw for my family. Roger was a few months older than me, so I was obviously very intimidated by him; but surprisingly, he was kind and tried his hardest to make friends with me. From that moment on, we were best friends and we spent every minute we possibly could together. There were moments of joy, laughter, love; but also sadness, despair, embarrassment.

Like when I was 11, we were having a sleepover at his house but I started my period that night. Just my luck. And of course, I had absolutely no idea what was happening when I bled through my pyjamas and onto Roger's bedding. My natural instinct was to cry and scream - I mean, you would too if you thought you were dying. Being an 11 year old boy, Roger barely knew what was going on with me, his only idea being that I had started my period; he only guessed because they had a sex ed lesson a few days before. Unfortunately, all they were told was that was that girls bled from their vagina because of their menstrual cycle. That was the limit to the knowledge schools really believed the men should know; not how to help a woman, or how a woman should use a pad or tampon, or even what those things were. Though he found it extremely awkward, he tried his best to comfort me, hugging me tightly and telling me it was going to be okay. Thankfully, Winifred heard the commotion and helped clear up; informing me of everything I needed to know and providing me with some pads and well needed chocolate. Roger and I were able to laugh it off, him ensuring me that he wouldn't judge me and that it was all natural, and everything was going to be okay.

Or like the time I got my first boyfriend at age 14, and Roger of course acted like he was my big brother. The guy, Adam, was your classic wanker; he knew he was good-looking, he knew he was funny, and he knew he could get any girl in the school. Roger of course noticed this, and warned me against it, yet I ignored him. Throughout the whole relationship, Adam and Roger had an ongoing feud of who could get the most attention off me; which was actually what ended our relationship. Adam thought I was cheating on him with Roger since we were so close, and therefore thought it was suitable to cheat on me. Yet again another occasion which resulted in Roger comforting me whilst I cried and despaired. What surprised me with this was that not once did Roger say "I told you so" or take the piss because he was right and I was wrong, he just made sure I was okay.

Or maybe our first argument. I wasn't even sure why I took chemistry in the first place, I couldn't do it and I didn't particularly see myself going into a scientific career pathway. Maybe it was because Roger took it, and I wanted to prove to him that I could be smart too. But as soon as the end of year trial exam came along, I was shitting it. I knew nothing, and I had no chance of learning it all in one night; though that wasn't going to stop me from staying up the whole night with the power of 5 coffees and lots of energy bars to read the textbook over and over again. Not that it worked at all, I learnt nothing and ended up passing out in the middle of the exam; whether that was due to the stress, the overload of coffee, or the lack of sleep I didn't know. What I did know, however, was that I was failing my exam and also in for a bollocking off Roger. After the exam was over, Roger was non-stop interrogating me with questions asking "What happened?", "Why did you just waste your whole exam?", "Why the fuck did you do that to yourself?", "Do you know how unsafe that is?" and constantly nagging that I knew I shouldn't have done that to my body. And of course I knew, but I had no choice – I was failing Chemistry anyway and if I didn't take any chance to pass, my parents would murder me. I think that was the first time Roger and I had actually had an argument where we were both shouting at each other. But undoubtedly, it still ended in Roger's arms wrapped around my waist tightly as I sobbed into his school shirt, staining it with mascara marks, blabbing about how I was failing chemistry anyway and how it isn't fair that Roger is so smart and how my parents would kill me when they found out. And undoubtedly, Roger took me back to his house to get some proper food in me (Winifred's special meal which she knew I loved so much), and consoled me that everything was going to be fine because I still had my business and media degree to work towards.

The time when Roger had to move away. He had decided to go study dentistry at London Polytechnic; he had achieved so much so far, having a-levels in Biology, Chemistry and Physics. He was a really smart guy. He deserved the recognition he was receiving, so as hard as it was to let him go, I knew it was the right thing to do. I mean, who was I to keep him away from such an opportunity? I myself had to find a university to study at, deciding to carry on my business and management to study it at Bath University. The last day Roger and I spent together before I had to leave for an early start was an extremely emotional one. He had this whole thing planned; there was a small riverbank a few miles down from our houses, at which he had set up a picnic fit for a princess. He had prepared all my favourite snacks, some of Winifred's special meal, and an array of drinks. It was perfect, I almost cried at the sight. We chatted for hours, like we always did in each other's company and by the end of the day we were lay next to each other watching the stars in the night sky. He had pointed out that the alignment of the stars that night perfectly matched the alignment of the day we first met, and how it was basically fate that this was happening. We would soon be reunited, and that everything would be okay.

The day I learnt Roger was basically a rock star. Rog and I kept in contact after splitting from each other, sending the occasional letter to and fro, filling the other in on what was going on in their life. What Roger had failed to mention was that he had joined a band with 3 other lads; John, Brian and Freddie. A band named Queen. I discovered the band after seeing an image of them in the newspaper about their new hit single "Keep Yourself Alive". That was the moment I decided to travel down to see them because I had achieved my business degree and was looking for something to do with my life; reuniting with Roger was my first concern. When I met the other boys, we got along immediately; John was extremely sweet, and so caring. Brian was immensely smart, and such a gentleman. And the only way I could possibly describe Freddie was as a character; he was animated, larger than life, hilarious, and overall an enjoyable person to be in the company of. Rogers's relationship with the band was a strange one; they claimed to absolutely hate each other but I could just tell that Roger cared for each of them just as much as he cared for me. And I knew he cared for me because he was always letting me know.

The day I got a job. After moving into London to be around Roger a lot more, I was in desperate need to find some source of income. Roger had let me move in to his apartment after deciding to relocate permanently, so I had weeks of rent building up that I needed to pay Roger as soon as possible. What I didn't plan was to actually get employed by Roger, well Queen. With the band needing some management, and me having just finished a business course, it was a perfect opportunity for me to do what I truly loved. Freddie was the one to suggest the opportunity, claiming how he needed a woman around the studio to save himself the pain of the other 3 men, and that I was the perfect woman for the job. I gladly took it, and it was a dream to work with the boys, but also an absolute pain. The main benefit was that I was able to boss Roger around, and tell him what to do, which of course he wasn't happy about but it was too humourous to pass up the opportunity. But Roger didn't really care, because he too found it a little funny, and he knew it made me happy.

The day I realised I loved Roger. That day was a big one. On two levels, considering it also happened to be my 23rd birthday. The band had been recording for a while their first album for the past year or so, and Roger hadn't seemed to remember that that day was my birthday, so I figured it would be better to just keep it on the down low and let the boys finish recording. Admittedly, I would've loved to spend the whole day with the boys having fun, but any chance they could get to record was a golden opportunity so I wasn't going to spoil it. It was late in the evening at that point, I was sorting through piles of paperwork and accident forms after Roger had let his anger get the best of him and took it out on his drum kit. Though he burst through the door while I was halfway through signing it off, holding a small box, panting deeply after running. He explained that he had already left to go home, but suddenly remembered that he was yet to give me his gift. He remembered - and not even my parents had called to say happy birthday. He had got me a small teddy, which at first glance meant nothing at all, until I realised what it was. When I had first moved to Cornwall, I had a small teddy that I took everywhere with me; a form of comfort blanket. However, I ended up losing it when Roger and I went to the town fair one day - I presumed someone took it or it was left in the field and still there to this day; however, it apparently wasn't. When I asked where Roger had found it, he explained that he found it in a charity shop the other day and that he knew it was mine because it still had my initials written on the tag in permanent marker. He had remembered how much that bear meant to me, and though I got over it, he had gone out of his way to find it. That was the moment I realised that my friendship with Roger was much more than a friendship; he had remembered my birthday and had remembered the bear. And now I had to find a way to keep it hidden from him.

The day Roger loved me. Another big day - one I certainly didn't see coming. It's simple knowledge that Fred cannot keep secrets, but I don't think Roger quite expected Freddie to spill this big of a secret. We were sitting around the recording studio, lounging on the couch with my head resting lightly on Roger shoulders, almost drifting off after a long day of tour preparations and planning for the band. The boys on the other hand had spent the whole day practicing, so of course the odour of whiskey and sweat filled the place; though I couldn't deny the scent of it combined with Rogers natural fragrance turned me on. I had almost fallen into my slumber until John shouted over for my help, having dropped all his music sheets on the floor around him. I approached John to help him pick the pages by bending over, completely forgetting I was wearing a rather short skirt, when Freddie perked up from the other side of the room saying "Sight for sore eyes, eh Rog? You've picked a commendable one to fall for". Roger immediately told him to fuck off, cheeks reddening and eyes darting anywhere but my puzzled face. I questioned what Fred actually meant, but before he could reply, Roger asked if he could have a word outside. I followed him out but as I went to open my mouth, Roger but in - "Look, before you say anything, I just want to bring to attention that Fred's a wanker. But what he said about falling for you was true - I didn't realise but I've loved you for years now, in fact I've loved you since your cunt of a boyfriend Sam; didn't you ever wonder why I was so protective? It was because I wanted you to myself, and I see now that I was selfish, because I knew that you'd never like me back. How could you? You are literal perfection and I'm the exact opposite. I-I'm sorry you had to find out this way, if I could have my way Fred would be pushin' up daisies right now. But it's the truth and you deserved to know that I really do love you". I was not expecting it to say the least, but I had never heard a more meaningful collection of words come out of Rogers mouth. I never predicted that Roger would have the same feelings for me, considering he was widely known to sleep around. But if he had loved me since we were 14, why would he sleep around and get in other relationships; maybe to distract himself, I don't know. I planted my lips firmly against his, the sensation feeling completely unreal and new to anything other kiss I had ever felt. It was perfect.

The day I got pregnant. Well it wasn't the day I actually got pregnant, that's a whole different story, but in fact the day I found out. I had spent the previous week suffering through early mornings over the toilet emptying my guts. Thankfully, Roger was a very deep sleeper so he wasn't able to hear me, meaning I'd be able to crawl back into bed and act like nothing happened. I had an inkling what could be going on, but I rang Veronica considering she had already had children by this point. She suggested I visit the local doctor and get a test; which I did reluctantly. It all came back positive. I was shitting it; Roger and I had been together for a year and a half, but I did not feel ready to be a mother at all. And with Roger touring all the time, or recording, we were not a couple who could confidently raise a child. Though I wanted nothing more than to have a family with Roger, he would still be an amazing father and he was the man I wanted to spend my life with. Not to mention, this may have been my only chance to have a child; the one thing Roger did not know about me is that when I was 18, I was told by doctors that I had limited eggs, meaning that I had very small changes of actually getting pregnant. This was my one chance, and I was going to go through with it; it was the telling Roger that I was scared to do. Veronica had helped me, telling me everything was going to be fine and that I should take him out for dinner to tell him the big news; therefore, I decided to take him down to his favourite restaurant and then tell him on a walk later on. While strolling down the beach, arms locked with Rogers, I was busy staring off into the sunset that I did not take notice of the rock in front of me, causing me to trip forward on the floor. As I laughed it off, I noticed Roger's face drop which was when I realised; the pregnancy test had fallen out of my pocket and on the floor in front of us. I quickly stuttered "shit shit, y-you weren't meant to see that yet. I-I was going to tell you in like 5 minutes, it was going to be special and you were going to be happy and we were going to have a happy family. But that's not going to happen because you don't want this baby, a-and we might never get another chance but you probably are angry at me because I didn't tell you and I'm so sorry." until I observed a small smile growing on Roger face which was still focused on the '+'. He was happy.

The day we got married. He had proposed a few months after finding out we were expecting, which I of course said yes to, but explained that I was not going to get married while looking like a balloon so we'd wait until I had given birth. Thankfully, I was 7 months in so it was a matter of time until our gorgeous Ophelia was to be born, and we were to get married. The day was like no other; seeing Roger at the end of the aisle, dressed in a rather enticing suit, set off a feeling in me that I didn't know existed. Throughout the whole wedding I couldn't stop thinking about how I truly didn't deserve this much happiness in my life. A dashing husband who did nothing but care for me and love me. A month old child that we had brought into this world. Our friends and family gathered around us, supporting us in everything we do. It seemed too perfect.

Which, in hindsight, it was. I was stupid to think for a moment that I deserved this happiness. A few weeks into our honeymoon, I received a call from back home which explained that my mother had passed away; at the time no one knew how, or why. Then, I found out I was pregnant again, making me think that maybe everything was going to be fine. Until I was woken up in the middle of the night to find a puddle of blood pooling around me. Then, we found that Fred had got an awful disease which would have meant his death was to come in the near future. Which it did; as Rog and I were driving over to visit him, he got a call to say it had happened, to which our reaction was to just pull over and cry. It began to seem like nothing was going right for me, that the world was just saying that my happiness was all just a prank. It seemed like it was.

But there was one person who I had been with my entire life, who never gave up on me, who never thought my moments of despair were stupid or senseless, who comforted me and stuck with me through everything, who showed me love every single day of my life. Roger