#like how would the traps/torture rooms affect her and would he be trying to encourage them to stay together or encourage her to get tf out

[mlentertainment]

still thinking abt how saw 3 was originally gonna be alison and lawrence.......................................... leigh release the unfinished script i’m not playing these games

[tokoyamisstuff]

Tender Ch. 1 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Even though Loki doesn’t understand why the new member of the Avengers should be kind to him of all people, he doesn’t want you to stop either.

Warnings: Loki being depressed, the Avengers being kinda mean, mentions of Torture and Death

Words: ~2100

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

All eyes were on him again.

As soon as Loki would step inside, the previously lively room would fall completely silent. Well, it’s not like he wasn’t used to being the involuntary kill-joy...

Usually, the God of Mischief craved attention, may it be positive or negative - most of the time being the latter. But lately, after months of having all those distrustful and hostile glares piercing holes into him, he’d rather wish for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Umm, so...I gotta go.” Natasha was the first one to flee the unpleasant atmosphere, not even putting the energy into mutter anything else than a cheap excuse on her way out. Clint wordlessly followed her close after, but not without shooting the Odinson one last, spiteful look.

Loki on the other hand was picking on his hands, a nervous habit he had inherited from his mother. As much as he tried to avoid meeting their eyes, the tensioned aura they were emitting making him feel close to breaking down completely - but he would never give them the satisfaction to witness this, he swore to himself.

And yet: Maybe he should just leave. Disappear, forever.

Although he’d never admit, Loki had grown very tired of his life following this stirr path, unable to diverge into a new direction. Everything he did would ultimately bring death and destruction upon mankind, inflicting fear in the hearts of all people.

His whole existence was based on being condemned to fail - just for others to reach their ‘glorius purpose’.

“Great” Tony scoffed. “Now they’re gone. Well done, prince of nothing.” Steve cut his friend off, clearing his throat very exaggeratedly.

The god still hadn’t moved from the doorframe of the conference room, while all others were already sitting on the oval-shaped table. He didn’t got what all that fuss was about. If Steve didn’t insist him to attend this emergency meeting, he’d just have gone about his usual business and avoided everyone as good as he could.

“C’mon, brother” Thor sighed, well knowing that if his brother was to stay in the team, it would ultimatively drive a wedge between them. All that pressure in the air was straining for everyone, including himself. 

Tony on the other hand was pretty chill about everything, aside of being passive-aggressive. This was probably due to their similar coping styles.

Even though his near-death-experience back when he stopped the Chitauri was still eating on his mental health, he’d prefer glossing over it with stupid jokes and overly confident behaviour. “No sassy remark today, Reindeer Games?��

Stark was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as he rose an eyebrow on the god, who only muttered a hoarse “No...not today.”

Yeah, it was kind of his style to break the unsettling silence through puny comments or self-glorifying speeches, to distract from his own insecurity.

But right now, he was just so damn tired.

Of this planet and it’s people, as well as the humiliating circumstances he had to dwell in. The fact that he was a prisoner at the Stark Tower, amongst his worst enemies. Being forced by his brother to keep up this meaningless act, as if he’d ever be seen as a team member or ally - when in reality, he was but a slave to the people he once ought to reign.

Just like back on Asgard: Never one of them, never belonging. No way to break free - for his true self was something to be loathed.

However, first and foremost the one thing he was especially tired of was himself, for he couldn’t get out of his own skin. Not only could he never be considered a hero, let alone be redeemed.

After all the atrocities he had commited due to Thanos’ torture and the tesseract’s influence,  now that he woke up from that naive dream of power stilling the emptiness in his dark heart, there was nothing left for him - other than to be haunted by his crimes until the mercy of death would overcome him.

“Well” Steve began, slamming his palms on the desk to attract everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we are welcoming a new team member today.”

“They all know?” Of course they wouldn’t let him in on such sensitive information. Not that he minded either way - one Avenger more or less, it didn’t matter how many people hated him in here.

“Please, come on in.”

Loki cleared the entrance when he heared Tony’s words, turning around in anticipation of another dull creature like the Hulk to torment him - but his calm demeanour dropped completely at this unusual sight:

“Y-You?!”

That was simply not possible! The last time he had seen you was almost a year ago, and you were on the brink of death at that!

“For everyone that doesn’t know yet: Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She is one of the victims HYDRA experimented on, and they succeeded in forming an artificial mutant.”

Steve went on and on explaining about your powers, but Loki’s head had already turned on autopilot, the only thing he could concentrate on being how the hell you of all people ended up here.

All these months, he was desperately trying to get any information about you, all of his hints ultimately leading him to dead ends - and in the end, tragically believing in your imminent death.

The memories were still painfully vivid in his mind: It was his first mission together with the Avengers, at a HYDRA hideout with most likely no civil survivors.

Actually, he had planned to make his escape right when the others engaged in a fight, wandering the hallways of what resembled a torture chamber rather than a laboratory.

On the walls were several instructions, about a serum that might cause a human to mutate if they were exposed to unbearable stress - pain being the most effective method, apparently.

Yet instead of finding anything useful for his personal gain, he found you: A  beautiful woman, yet emaciated and lying in a puddle of her own blood. At first he thought you to be dead just like the others - but as soon as your faint whimpers drang to his ears, he burst the cell you were trapped in open, rushing to your side immediately.

“Shh...” the god scooped you up from the cold stone floor, wrapping his cloak around your broken body. “Everything is alright now. Your savior is here.”

Loki gasped as he felt your hand stroking his cheekbone, even through all your pain and weakness wanting to bid your hero this due respect.

“Hel...you humans are such fragile creatures...” Loki muttered under his breath, cursing his own lack of talent when it came to casting healing spells. “Hang in there, look at me!”

Your eyes were teary and bloodshot, yet not less fit to bring across a message no words ever could: Incredible gratitude, and admiration.

He could tell you were close to passing out when your hand left his face, falling limp to the side. But he held you firmly in his arms, not once stopping to utter sweet words of encouragement as he made his way to the ship, leading you into safety.

“Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”

Those were the words he once directed at Black Widow - but only now he understood her attempts.

Saving one person could never make up for all the lives he had destroyed - and yet he knew that for you, it would mean the world none the less.

In one way or another, with your life at his mercy, he began to finally grasp the preciousness of life, and doing everything in one’s might to protect it.

“Reindeer Games” Tony tapped on his shoulders, making Loki wake from his pondering. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t scare her away on the first day already.”

Oh.

Just now he was noticing his own grim expression, having towered over your much smaller form this whole time with furrowed brows.

“My apologies” was his firm response, but you only shook your head, trying to tell him it was not a big deal.

So this was what you looked like when you’re not imprisoned, he realized when he took in your physique.

Much to his pleasure, all of your wounds had seemingly healed, and you finally gained some much needed weight. Like this, you looked so much more healthier - and most definetly even more bewitching than he remembered you.

If people had let him know, would he have visited your sickbed, aiding you towards health again? Who knows...

Yet somehow, he dwelled in the thought of you being able to lead a happy life now that you were free - which made your decision to seek out the Avengers in wish for more battles even harder for him to accept.

“You are incredibly strong, Lady Y/N” Loki spoke firmly, everyone else rolling their eyes at his usual exaggeration - but you knew he meant every word. “Be sure of my eternal respect.” 

The God of Lies’ eyes widened in excitement when you directed a warm smile at him, knowing for sure that this one was genuine. It wasn’t like those fake smirks the other Avengers gave him out of politeness, or the mocking laughs when they were making fun of or excluding him.

No - that one was just pure affection. And it left him in awe.

“Thank you for saving me back then” you signed, just for Loki shooting you a puzzled look.

“What, I thought the all-tongue knows every language?” Tony yelled, as inconsiderate as always. Thor was quick to explain on his brother’s stead, him still being deeply invested with you. “Every spoken one, yes. ASL is not one of our fortes.”

Usually, Loki had always been a quick thinker. But right now he was to bewildered by your appearance that thinking straight was out of the question.  

What language were they speaking of? And why have you not been saying anything up until now? Maybe his presence was making you uncomfortable, after all? Should he leave on your behalf?

To make it easier for him to understand, you rolled down your turtleneck, revealing the unsighty scar that covered your whole throat.

There were not many people bold enough to come close to the God of Mischief without warning, yet suddenly you simply took his hand and slowly led it to your neck.

How could you be so naive and offer someone like him such a vital spot?! He’ll never get the human philosophy...

And yet, the flabbergasted god hesistantly let his hand run over the scar, while you opened your mouth to no avail - for 11 months already, no tone would leave your vocal cords.

“I’m incredibly sorry...” Loki whispered with a sorrowful tone, while the others just stared in disbelief. “If only I was able to heal this wound back then...”

What a puny god he was...and an even more pathetic wanna-be-hero at that...

He would try to take a few steps back, but you took a hold of his hand, squeezing it with both of yours, that cheerful smile not faltering in the slightest.

“Please, don’t be sad. I’m only alive thanks to you!” Bucky, whose cousin was mute as well, translated what you were signing for Loki. His tone sounded quite irritated, not fitting those meaningful words. “I only wanted to join the Avengers because I want to be just like you. You’re my idol!”

Those words touched him deeply, igniting a flame inside of him he thought long to be defunct. Was it hope?

Of course it was not nearly enough to pull him out of that deep, dark hole he felt trapped in for as long as he could remember - yet somehow, he now felt that it was not impossible to escape.

While the others were cringing at your declaration, making jokes about ‘choosing wrong idols’ or would plainly not believe Loki to have a positive effect on anyone, the two of you would just stare at each other in silent admiration.

Shyly, you signed yet another word for him - and this time, Loki would know what you mean from pure intuition. 

He smiled.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Loki was able to smile again, just thanks to your heartwarming welcome. And he was still blissfully unaware about what effect you could have on him, if he was brave enough to let you close.

One thing was sure: You literally had him wrapped around his finger from the very start.

[ethrenisnotthehero]

@hogwartsmystory is a predator (part 2)

If you haven’t read the first part of the callout, I encourage you to do so here. As before, the normal tags are not included in this post in order to allow this to reach as many people as possible. Potential triggers are listed below, and the main content is hidden to keep sensitive individuals from being unintentionally exposed. TW: Pedophilia, Abuse, Gaslighting, Sexual Assault, Self Harm, Suicide, NSFW Topics, Faked Illness, Faked Mental Illness, Faked Death, Victim Blaming

Ren met Jill sometime between December of 2013 and January of 2014. At the time, he was dating another staff member of the website who will be referred to as Buttercup from now on. Jill was vulnerable in some of the most classic ways a CSA survivor often is. Her home life was chaotic and difficult. She was just finishing middle school. Depression had started to surface, and, worst of all, she had just been diagnosed with a life-altering chronic disease that would require her to change significant aspects of her daily life just to survive. She just wanted a place to fit in and be welcomed, and fell into Ren’s lures without ever considering the danger that lurked behind the screen.

Up until now, it could be understandable to argue that Ren may not have been purposely grooming young girls. Creating a mature themed website might be creepy and inappropriate, but that doesn’t necessarily make someone a predator. No, what made Ren a predator were his motives, his goals, and his solicitation of vulnerable youth into grossly exploitative relationships. What remains the most disturbing to me is that his behavior consistently fits with the profile of an egomaniac desperate to have power over someone dependent on him, fitting textbook descriptions of the methods abusers employ in order to coax their victims in and trap them there.

The Act of Grooming, Part Two: Approach

Even though common luring methods of child predators are well-known within advocate and legal communities, the average person typically has neither heard of them nor is likely to recognize them as they happen. Some behaviors attached to common lures are easily identifiable: a stranger somehow uses a young child’s name to create familiarity and abducts them, or convinces a child that there are prizes to be had if they come along. Methods like these have names, and Ren is guilty of utilizing at least four to his advantage.

The Authority Lure

When Jill first told me about her first interactions with Ren, she was quick to note how starstruck she was with that fact that he wanted to talk to her at all. “I was surprised that admins even RPed down with their peasants on this site,” she told me. Interacting with staff on the site made her feel special and seen, and Ren was quick to start chatting with her. He had a particular interest in her character. Someone of great importance and authority on the site, going out of his way to interact with her out of all people. He held power over her (over most users on the site) and that was something he was keenly aware of. More sinisterly, not only did Ren himself have power over younger users, but he increased his reach and control through the creation of alternative identities. Ren’s main identities were Aaron, Seth, Carter, and Lauren, all of whom he used to form relationships with and manipulate different individuals on the site.

Seth and Carter’s accounts have since been deleted, so unfortunately I was not able to see what kind of people Ren made them out to be. However, he clearly made users believe that these were all existing people, and used their identities to build his authority. When everyone on staff is the same person, it doesn’t leave very much room for dissent.

As for Lauren? Lauren was Ren’s real identity, and the mastermind behind all of it.

As you can see in this post, as of November 11, 2013, Ren was 17 years old. Not only that, but he was in a position of power over children in real life, too. There’s no reason that Ren would not have known better; no one in that position would be able to have a relationship with a small child as a “mistake.” Frequently, Ren claimed to be a babysitter for kids as old as 14, which means that children were fully exposed to him on all fronts. Ignorance is not a viable excuse for him; there’s no way he didn’t realize what he was doing was wrong.

A person might argue that there’s no substantial proof that these identities are fake. That would be a valid question at this point. One of Ren’s supporters (and self-proclaimed partner) has admitted themselves that these “alternate personalities” did not exist. In an attempt to explain away Ren’s toxic behaviors, they offered up a Dissociative Identity Disorder diagnosis as a defense:

However, there’s one glaring issue with this claim. According to the DSM-5 classification of mental disorders by the American Psychiatric Association, amnesia must occur for a diagnosis of DID. Amnesia is defined by the DSM-5 as gaps in the recall of everyday events, important personal information, and/or traumatic events. Ren never experienced amnesia associated with the “switch” of an alter; in fact, he claimed that he and his friends would regularly do activities together, and would even communicate back and forth online with each other during the same lengths of time on AS as he switched between accounts.

I understand that everyone has different experiences with mental illness, and that illness does not have the same symptoms for every person. Regardless, Ren was clearly aware of his actions and the way he used his other accounts to lure/hurt users. Mental illness is not an excuse for hurting children, ever. Ren knew it then, and I can guarantee you he knows it now.

The Affection Lure

Another way predators appeal to their victims is with affection. Pedophiles take advantage of rocky home situations or difficult experiences to abuse the trust a child has placed in them. Jill came to know Ren well through their role-plays. They talked often. Ren made himself available to her, gave her comfort that she desperately needed, and even offered other friends who could be an ear or a shoulder to her. When Ren learned of Jill’s chronic illness, he connected her with Seth, another of his personalities. He coaxed Jill into trusting him, and their relationship became inappropriately intense. Most children are exploited by people that are close to them, by people who they trust and rely on.

At the time, Jill may not have realized how difficult her situation was for her. To her, the chaos of her family life may have seemed normal. Having to compete with siblings and neighborhood kids may have seemed normal. Falling into severe, deep depression may have seemed normal. The truth of the situation is that a vulnerable young woman was falling through the cracks, and Ren saw an opportunity to place himself as the most important person in her life. She needed to belong, so he made sure that she felt like she belonged with him. She needed to be heard, so he made sure that she felt like he was the only one who heard her. She needed friends, so he made sure that all her friends were him. 

Not only did he use her trust in him to groom her for a relationship, but he used it to isolate her. If everyone she knew was him, then he would be the only positive feature in her life. If everyone else was an enemy, then she would have nowhere to turn to but him. If he convinced her that she was his world, and that he was hers, she would never believe anyone trying to warn her about him and his behavior. Ren took advantage of a 14 year old child’s insecurities and sickness to insert himself as the most important aspect of her life.

There’s plenty of evidence that this wasn't the first time he’d thought of something like this, either. Ren had an obsession with themes of abuse, torture, and child slavery in his stories and role-plays. Much of his content centered around taking advantage of vulnerable people.

It wasn’t just his role-play ideas that crossed the line. His behavior toward other members of the site was hair-raising at best. His supporters try to paint him as someone affectionate and well-meaning, but he had habits of talking to young users in a manner that borders on profiling.

These aren’t things that someone a few months short of their eighteenth birthday should be saying to children on the internet. His behavior also delved into the realm of victim blaming, too; when a minor on the site was posting about their father going out of his way to make custody as complicated and as disruptive as possible, Ren had this to say:

A man, who would have been 18 at the time, with the audacity to imply that a child was to blame for the controlling behavior of their father. That their father only loved them, and that they might have done something to make a grown man act like a petty child during a divorce.

Ren’s idea of love was as toxic as his need for power.

The Hero Lure

This is, perhaps, the lure that Ren is mostly guilty of. An egomaniac soothed by his own words, Ren saw himself as a hero. In his own mind, he was a faultless deity who deserved no less than the complete and undivided affections of his subjects, but who fabricated false identities at every opportunity. In Ren’s mind, he is the hero. The survivors of his abuse are turned to abusers, those who dare question him are nothing but petty liars, and anyone not completely enthralled by him is nothing but an extra in his story. That’s what Ethren was created to emulate.

Ren has not grown. Someone who has grown would take ownership of their mistakes and apologize for the pain they had caused. Someone truly sorry, truly changed, wouldn’t dare to trample on the feelings of people they had hurt. Ren is no different now than he was six years ago, when he made the decision to change Jill’s life. Instead, he’s turned a survivor into the villain of his world. Instead, he faked his own death so that he could start over with his reputation on AS intact. He never accepted what he did, and instead continues to paint Jill as someone who needed to be “fixed.”

Wanting to be with someone because it feeds a need to “fix” or “help” someone isn’t love. It’s an adult man putting the weight of the world on the shoulders of a little girl. A girl already struggling to adapt. A girl already struggling to fit in. A girl who spent her second week of high school hospitalized because of a sickness that would change her life forever. Jill is a person; she’s a person who’s had to learn to live with restrictions that mean the difference between life and death. She’s a person who’s had to walk alone through the past six years battling depression and trauma completely unheard and unseen. She’s not a character in Ren’s world. She’s not some fixation to help him feel better about himself. 

Jill is a real, living, breathing human being with thoughts and feelings and a future: a future that Ren has done him damn best to make about himself for the past six years.

Ren never wanted to help anyone. Ren needed to feel important to other people to have some kind of meaning to himself. His obsession with playing hero went so far that he would torment his victims just so that he could swoop in and be what they needed. He would pretend to be sick or injured. He would go from having a cold, to strep, to pneumonia in under a day.

He would suddenly need a nebulizer for breathing treatments for his false illnesses.

His friends and loved ones would suddenly have life-threatening medical conditions and need to be taken to the hospital.

He pretended to have cancer.

He would use his identities to threaten self harm or death. He used Seth to tell Jill that he was going to send someone to kill her, making her scared for her own life. He made her a part of a world where he was the only one who could help her to satisfy his own sick need to be the most important thing to someone else.

When life caught up to him, he pretended to die.

He knew what he was doing was wrong. He asked Jill to lie about her age and told her that if anyone ever found out about them, he would get in trouble. He used his status as her hero to solicit sexual content online. He knew her age, knew how vulnerable she was, and knew how desperately she needed to fit in. He took advantage of that to fill his own desperate need to be the hero.

The legal age where a person can consent in Jill’s country is 16. When they officially began dating, she was 14. Ren was 18. He was an adult four years older than her, who would have faced charges of child abuse in his own state for their relationship. They had a sexual relationship online, which would be equivalent to soliciting child porn in his state. She never cheated on him; he was her world, because he made every effort to make sure that he was.

She never even saw his face.

She never even knew his real name.

She grappled for years afterwards with trauma, and he wouldn’t even give her the decency of having peace when they finally split. Instead, he came here with his stories. He wrote up fantasies where he was the hero, and she was the one who abused him. Jill was still a minor at the end of her relationship. When I asked her if she’s gotten help, she didn’t think a therapist would take her seriously. Ren took her ability to trust her own voice from her. He took her ability to believe that her own problems were valid. He took six years of her life and made it hell for the sake of his own ego and vanity. Pedophiles will often lie about their age, but most of them make it clear that they’re adults. Their true age might vary by four to five years (like in Ren’s case of claiming to be 21 at 17), but they always make it very clear that they’re adults. Predators know what they’re doing. They’re master manipulators. They’re adept at communication. They seem innocent on the surface, until everything they’ve done is laid out where it can be seen for what it is. Predators rely on persuasion, not coercion (Abrams 2016).

Someone I know asked me if I ever considered, even briefly, that Jill wasn’t telling the truth. I answered back without hesitation that I never did, not even once, because I hadn’t even touched one of the most important parts of my research.

Like other predators, Ren had a type. Buttercup was his first victim. When she and Ren met she was only 13-- Just like Jill.

Continue to Part 3

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 20

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow whenihaveyou.romione on Instagram if you’re interested!

Note: This chapter exists purely because I wanted to write Ron and Hermione making out in an empty classroom.

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

Chapter 20

A month later, Ron once again found himself at Hogwarts; however, this time for a good reason. It was a moment he’d been looking forward to since last September, since the moment he’d said goodbye to Hermione on Platform 9 ¾. 

After today, in just a few short hours, she would be done with Hogwarts. She would leave, and she would be coming home. 

For good. 

“I’m glad you’re so supportive of my education, Ron,” Hermione said after he’d expressed his enthusiasm of her finally being finished that morning. He and Harry had arrived early, around breakfast, to see the girls before the small ceremony began. Now, they stood in the Entrance Hall, half an hour to go, with the graduating seventh years. 

“You know I care, Hermione,” Ron said, smoothing down her robes. “But, I’m still thrilled that you’ll be finished soon. I can go back to seeing you every day.”

Hermione smiled despite herself. “I must admit, it will be good. Though, I can’t stop wondering about the NEWT results. I keep thinking about the exams and all the things I might have missed. It may affect any job —”

Ron silenced her with a kiss, to which she hastily pushed him away, very red and looking around at the snickering faces. 

“Not here, Ron,” she hissed. 

“What?” Ron asked, also looking around at the other students. “Embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“No, but, this is a formal ceremony, and you’ll mess up — Ron, where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere more private, if you’re all awkward about it.” Ron dragged her to the side of the Entrance Hall and pushed open an empty classroom. It appeared to have not been used all year, instead storing extra furniture.

“Ron —”

“Shoosh,” Ron said, and he stepped forward, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her deeply. 

“Ron, I appreciate —”

“This is the last time I get to kiss you as a student,” Ron said. “Let me have my moment.”

“Your moment?”

“Shut up and just kiss me, would you?”

Hermione stared up at him for a moment, looking torn between bewilderment and amusement. But eventually, a devious smile formed on her lips, and she stepped forward and engulfed him in such a passionate kiss that it took Ron by surprise. But he hesitated only for a second before drawing her tightly towards him and responding with just as much enthusiasm as she suddenly had. 

This was, Ron realised, a complete fantasy of his he may or may not have possessed for a few years now. Trapped inside an empty classroom, alone with her. There was an appeal to it, a romantic side that he was very surprised to find Hermione seemed to be enjoying as much as he was. 

He moved his hands from her face, sliding them down her arms, creasing up her robes, but he didn’t care, and it seemed, nor did she. 

Very un-Hermione-like. I like it.

His hands continued to trail down her robes, testing just how far she'd let him push it (she didn't seem to be asking him to stop anytime soon). He had just slipped underneath the hem when a blinding light had them springing apart.

"Sorry, Professor, perhaps I should have warned you —" Ginny's voice trailed into the newly opened room, clearly trying to stop herself from laughing.

Ron and Hermione looked up to find a stunned Professor McGonagall staring between them, and behind her, a highly amused Ginny who was covering her mouth with silent giggles.

"Well, I never…" McGonagall said. "Miss Granger! Of all the people, of all the times… not once did I ever expect such indignity from you." 

Despite her harsh tone, Ron could tell that McGonagall was far more amused than she was upset or angry.

Hermione, however, was very red in the face. One look at her, and Ron had to stifle his own laughter. Her hair was frizzier than usual, her robes all creased and ruffled, not to mention her flustered face that had very little to do with embarrassment at being caught. 

"S-sorry, Professor," Hermione said, taking out her wand and casting a spell to flatten her robes again. Then, regaining some of her dignity, she added, "Is it time?"

This time, McGonagall's amusement was in plain sight. Her lips curved up as she said, "Yes, Miss Granger, it is time. I'll see you in a moment." Her eyes fell on Ron. "As for you, Weasley, I strongly encourage you to join Potter across the lake when Miss Granger and Miss Weasley are no longer students. That way, you're both free to… do as you please." Giving another small smile, she turned and walked away.

The moment she was gone, Ginny roared with laughter. "Oh, come on, Hermione," she said, "don't go all embarrassed on me. That was funny."

But Hermione didn't seem to agree. She marched from the room, leaving Ron to follow in her wake. They got halfway to the Entrance Hall when he couldn't help himself either. He chuckled.

"Ron, it's not funny!" Hermione said, still very red. 

"Yes it is," he said. "Hermione Granger, the perfect student, will no longer be remembered for her record-breaking Outstandings she receives at NEWT level, but for being caught in a compromising position with her school droput boyfriend inside an abandoned classroom by the Headmistress." He chuckled again. So did Ginny.

"Oh, McGonagall is going to be so disappointed!" Hermione sighed.

"She was laughing!" Ron assured her as they reached the Hall. He placed a kiss on top of her head and then said, "Besides, what can she do? I'll see you on the other side, alright?"

Still grinning, Ron walked past the other students, some he recognised and waved to along the way. 

That, he decided, had been one of the most exhilarating moments of his life. He walked down the steps and onto the grounds, where he spotted Harry waiting for him. Ahead, McGonagall was directing students towards the lake where boats were waiting to escort everyone across for the very last time. She cast a very wary, very amused look Ron's way.

Once upon a time, Ron might have felt humiliated by it, but not being a student anymore, knowing that this would probably be the last time he'd ever set foot in these halls, he could only grin back at her. 

"What's got you looking so gleeful?" Harry asked when Ron joined him by the lake a moment later.

"Nothing," Ron said, holding back another laugh. "Though I'm sure Ginny will tell you later anyway."

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow, but Ron only shook his head and said, "Come on. Otherwise we'll miss them."

Ron had never attended this small ceremony before — not even when his brothers had completed their seventh years. It wasn't too exciting, but Ron had insisted on coming to see Hermione and Ginny make their last journey from the school, across the lake in the same boats in which they had first arrived. Then, he and Harry would ride the train back to King's Cross for the very last time. 

They walked across the grounds, all the way to Hogsmeade station. There were only a few others there — a few sets of parents, some siblings and perhaps some other boyfriends and girlfriends. 

They sat down on a bench in front of the steaming, scarlet train that was currently empty. 

"I'm looking forward to riding it again," Ron said, nodding towards the Hogwarts Express. “For old time’s sake, you know? It’s a little weird to think we’re done with that part of our lives. For real, I mean. You spend so long desperately waiting for your letter —”

“Well, not for me,” Harry said. “Or Hermione.”

“Yeah, well, it was painful,” Ron continued. “Especially when you have five older brothers who all get to go before you. You think your time will never come — especially when Fred and George keep telling you you’re a Squib — and then you do get to go, and it’s over in a blink of an eye…”

“It did go very fast,” Harry admitted. “Now we’re in the real world… adults…”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “How weird.”

Steam filled the station as they sat in silence. It wasn’t broken until a parent nearby gasped and pointed. 

Ron and Harry looked up just as the seventh year students emerged onto the station, all laughing, cheering and whooping over the fact that they were done. 

Ron beamed, waving Hermione and Ginny over through the crowd. They hurried to them, Hermione throwing her arms around Ron’s neck. 

“Finally,” he said. “I can have my girlfriend back.”

“Is that all you care about?” Hermione asked lightly.

“Absolutely,” Ron said. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yes, but unfortunately on this side of Hogwarts, there’s no more classrooms,” Ginny said slyly.

“No, but there’s plenty of empty rooms at Grimmauld Place,” Ron replied quickly.

“Ron!” Hermione hissed, punching him in the arm. “Stop.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Ginny and Hermione said together, Hermione not meeting Harry’s eye. She shot Ron an appalled look, to which he shrugged and grinned at her. 

Many people around them were hugging family members, and soon, the rest of the school would be arriving, ready to go home for another school year. 

“Come on,” Ginny said. “Before all the compartments fill up.” She led the way through one of the open doors on the train. Their trunks and everything would be sent down later, so they were free to wander through the carriages, searching for the perfect compartment.

“This one will do,” Ginny said after a while, sliding open the door. She sat down, the others following, and sighed. “I can’t believe it’s over. So many years of wishing to go, begging your parents to let you go early, and then… it’s over.”

“I said the same thing to Harry just before,” Ron said, laughing. He looked between Harry and Hermione. “But these two, of course, don’t understand it. They both got a letter and then a few months later they were off.”

“Lucky,” Ginny said. “As a wizarding child, it’s torture. You just want to see it for yourself. Especially when you have six older brothers who get to go before you. Though —” she looked at Ron, “— at least none of them tried telling me I was a Squib and wouldn’t get my letter.”

“Fred and George?” Hermione guessed, looking at Ron.

“Yep,” Ron said. “I believed them, too, even though I had displayed accidental magic many times. Was terrible at controlling it, though.”

“Yeah, I still remember the time you set fire to the kitchen, all because Mum dared ask you to help with dinner.” Ginny chuckled.

“Well, at least you knew what was happening,” Hermione said. “It was rather frightening when you’re really upset and all the doors to your house fly open at once, then slam closed again, and then continue flapping.”

“Or when you — what I now realise — accidentally Apparate yourself onto a roof to escape your cousin and his friends.”

“You Apparated as a kid?” Ginny asked, looking at Harry with an incredulous expression.

Harry shrugged. “Can’t think of how else I got up there.”

“Woah!” Ginny said. “That’s really cool. The best I managed before five was turning one of my toys into an animated object for five minutes. Terrified me rather than excited me.”

“I remember that!” Ron said. “You cried for hours.”

He couldn’t help but smile as they all reminisced their childhoods, Harry and Hermione having a much different experience to his and Ginny’s. It was funny how things worked out, how a mere eight years ago he’d been an eleven-year-old boy, simultaneously excited and terrified of going to Hogwarts, afraid he’d have everything to live up to and not be able to achieve any of it. 

He’d done alright, though, he thought. He would never be Charlie at Quidditch, or Head Boy like Bill had been. He’d never be as clever as Percy, or as funny as Fred and George. But, he had helped save the wizarding world. He had destroyed a Horcrux, which led to the eventual downfall of the Darkest wizard to ever exist. And, unlike the rest of his siblings, his name would be mentioned in the history books for many years to come, right beside Harry and Hermione’s. It wasn’t what he’d expected, or even hoped for, when he’d boarded this very train all those years ago, but he also wouldn’t change it for anything. 

As the train began to move from the station, the chatter of excited students echoing down the carriages, Ron couldn’t help but smile. He really had done alright in the end. And in just a few short years, he’d be a qualified Auror to boot. What more could he ask for?

…

The answer to that question came the next morning in the hallway just after he’d woken. Hermione was already out of bed, but he found her on her way back, having just finished breakfast. 

“Morning,” she said brightly. “How’d you sleep?”

“The best I’ve slept in a long time,” Ron told her truthfully, grabbing her by the waist and drawing her towards him. He kissed her deeply. "It's because I know you're here to stay," he added once he'd pulled away. 

"Well," Hermione said, wrapping her own arms around Ron, "I do have to go and see Mum and Dad at some point. Probably later today." She stood up on her tip toes and kissed him. "Want to come?"

"Sure," Ron said. "You know I visited them when you were away a few times? We've become quite tight."

Hermione smiled, nodding. "I do. They told me. They were rather pleased to see you. They've been a bit lonely, I think, especially because all of their friends thought they'd moved away and all moved on. They're trying to reconnect, but it's been hard. You made their days when you visited." She let go of his waist, her hands falling to her side. "Thank you for doing that."

Ron shrugged. "It was nothing, really. I like your mum and dad. I, er, did bring Dad with me one time. He begged me."

"Oh, they told me that too!" Hermione said, this time chuckling. "They thought he was funny, interested in the most simple things — well, simple to them."

"Yeah, he was a little excited…" Ron grinned at her. "I think his favourite thing was a toaster. He has many of them in his shed, but I think he liked seeing one in action." 

Hermione smiled, and for a moment, they stood in silence in the middle of the hall. It wasn't uncomfortable at all — quite the opposite, actually. Pleasant, nice, like they could be in each other's presence forever and not speak and be perfectly happy. 

After a moment, though, Hermione said, "Do you want some breakfast? Harry and Ginny are still in the kitchen. I was just about to shower —"

"I just want you," Ron said, and he grabbed her around the waist again, pulling her against him once more, kissing her hard on the mouth. 

Ron didn't know if she simply didn't have the ability to refuse him, or she didn't want to (he liked to think it the latter), but she responded to his mouth against hers and threw her arms around his neck to draw him even closer. 

This was what he'd missed since last September. Just seeing her in the corridor of Grimmauld Place, or waking up and finding her next to him — or knowing that she'd spent the night there at least, considering she liked to get up earlier than him. He'd longed for this part of their lives to start, because he knew there was nothing stopping them now. Whatever happened from here on in, they wouldn't be separated anymore. 

"Oh my God, is an abandoned classroom not enough for the two of you?"

Ron reluctantly pulled away from Hermione, feeling her arms unwrap from around him. They turned slowly to find a disgruntled Ginny standing on the landing, Harry behind her, still on one of the steps. 

"What?" Ron asked. 

"Well, you're spoiling my breakfast for one thing," Ginny said. "And secondly, I don't really want to come up and see —"

"Well, last time I checked, you don't actually live here," Ron said. "So mind your own business."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't live here either!" Ginny said, though she didn't sound angry or upset.

Ron frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, that if you want to do —" she gestured wildly at them, "— that, why don't you do it in your own place?"

"This is my place," Ron reminded her.

"I don't mean this place, you idiot," Ginny said as if she were speaking to a five year old. "I mean a place for just the two of you. You know, that you have together."

Ron stared at his sister, not daring to look at Hermione. The latter didn't speak — or move at all for that matter. What was Ginny on about? Was she suggesting he and Hermione move in together? He was fairly certain that was where she was going with it, but he wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. Well, he did, but he doubted Hermione would want to consider such a thing so early into their relationship.

You've been together for over a year now, a little voice said to him.

Yeah, but most of that has been apart, he reasoned.

What does that matter? You know it's her forever.

Yes, but maybe she doesn't see it that way.

The silence grew, turning into something very uncomfortable. In fact, Ron grew rather irritated by Harry, who didn't seem to want to come to Ron's defence at all. He joined Ginny on the landing, nibbling on some toast, but saying nothing. Did that mean he agreed? Surely not! They'd had a great time living together in this place.

But that was before their girlfriends had finished school. And, to be fair, in the short time Hermione had been back, Ron had wanted nothing more than to be alone with her. 

"Oh, come on, you two!" Ginny huffed. "Listen, I can't kick you out, Ron, but at least if you have your own place you can dance around naked for all I care, and Harry or I don't have to worry about seeing it, because you've made it abundantly clear you can't keep your hands off one another."

Ron tensed, finally daring to look down at Hermione. He’d expected to see her blushing furiously, maybe even struggling to meet his eye, but to his surprise, she was looking thoughtfully at Ginny, as if what his sister was saying made sense. 

“Alright,” Ginny said when no one said anything. “Whatever. I just thought it would help all of us. You don’t see me and Harry —”

“And I don’t want to!” Ron interjected before she could finish that sentence. 

“And you think I want to see my brother?” Ginny asked. “I love you guys, I really do, but this is not something I think the four of us can live with. One day, someone is going to see more than kissing, and that will just be embarrassing for everyone.”

Again, Hermione didn’t seem phased by what Ginny was implying, which left Ron rather speechless. She wasn’t actually considering Ginny’s suggestion, was she? He couldn’t say he liked Grimmauld Place all that much, but he'd seen himself here for a few more years before… well, he supposed living with Hermione was where he'd hoped the next step would take him.

Ginny went back into Harry's room. Harry still said nothing, but gave an apologetic shrug as he followed her.

"So, is this what it's going to be like?" Ron scowled once they'd disappeared. "Ginny calling the shots and him just going along with it? He's supposed to back us up." Why had Harry stayed silent in the matter? Harry usually had no problem speaking his mind. The only thing Ron could think of was he wanted Ron out of the house but didn't want to say it.

"Come on," Hermione said, grabbing Ron's hand, her tone still thoughtful. "Let's get ready and we'll go and see Mum and Dad."

…

Harry swore loudly as the Exploding Snap cards exploded in front of him for the third time that night. Cursing the game, he threw his remaining cards into the pile.

“That’s me done for tonight,” he said, taking his wand out and clearing the ash and grime from his glasses. “Honestly, why am I so bad at it?”

“You’re just too slow,” Ginny said, patting his arm. “But I think I’ll stop tonight, too.” She yawned, climbing to her feet. “Night, Ron.”

“Night,” Ron said as Harry and Ginny left the living room where they’d been playing. Using his wand to collect the cards into a neat pile, he left them on the arm of the sofa and headed up to bed himself. 

Hermione had gone up earlier than the rest of them, uninterested in the game and saying she had something to do. What, Ron had no idea, but he had noticed she’d been rather quiet since Ginny’s outburst that morning.

At first, he’d thought she’d just been contemplating what his sister had said, maybe toying with the idea of whether or not she and Ron should get their own place together. But as the day had worn on, spending lunch and the afternoon with her parents, she’d gone very quiet, even asking her parents if she could look through the Muggle newspapers they collected.

Whenever he’d asked her if she was alright, she smiled, nodded, and said yes, so he’d given up asking her. 

He supposed now, though, he’d have to address the matter, because he couldn’t go to bed pretending that what Ginny had said hadn’t affected them. Ron had been able to brush it off, laugh at the idea even, but it seemed that Hermione was more bothered by it than he was.  

The old Ron might have been upset by such a reaction, but he couldn’t really blame her this time. They’d been together for a little over a year, but a whole lot of that time had been apart, and then the rest of it had been filled with grief and a high dependency on one another for comfort. Really, they’d probably only had a month, maybe two, of actually being in a proper relationship, and while they had spent almost all of those two months together, it was a completely different story actually sharing a home together. 

Not that that had happened yet, but if they ever felt the need to spend a night apart, they currently were able to do that. 

As he walked down the hall towards his bedroom, he noticed that a light was still flickering from underneath the closed door and couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. If Hermione had been asleep, then he could address it in the morning. 

He’d never felt nervous opening his bedroom door knowing that she was there before. At least not since the very beginning of their relationship when he was sneaking her into his bedroom each night at the Burrow.  

“Hey!” she said cheerfully, closing the book that she’d been reading while propped up against the headboard, the gas lamp in the corner flickering brightly for her. 

“Hey,” Ron said. “I thought you might have been asleep by now.” He began to undress and change into his pyjamas. 

“No, I was waiting for you to come to bed actually,” Hermione said, and to Ron’s surprise, her voice sounded even, controlled — unlike it had earlier. 

“Right,” Ron said, unable to control his voice. “I suppose you want to talk about what Ginny said earlier.” He sat on the edge of the bed, only half dressed. “Listen, I don’t think she actually meant it. She was probably just upset about catching us, so we’ll just try to be a bit more discreet in the future. I know it’s too soon for us to be officially living together or anything.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “I know — wait —” he looked at Hermione, who was looking at him with a controlled expression that matched her voice. He stared back at her, mouth open for a moment, before regathering himself. “I… I think it’s too soon,” he said, now second guessing what she’d meant by that question. “You agree, right?”

He continued watching her, waiting for her to nod and agree. But that never came, and his chest tightened ever so slightly.

“I think Ginny had a point, actually,” Hermione said, and she set the book aside, picking up her wand in its place. A moment later, three Muggle newspapers and two editions of the Daily Prophet spread out on the bed in front of them. 

Ron looked between Hermione and the newspapers. 

“What’s this?” he asked. 

“Well,” Hermione said, and for the first time since he’d come into the room, her cheeks had gone slightly pink, “I couldn’t help but think about what your sister said this morning. I know she didn’t really mean it, but she got me thinking, and as the day went on, I, um… I thought maybe we could live together.” The colour in her cheeks deepened to a red. “You know… get our own place.”

“What?” Ron asked, staring at her. “Wait, you’re serious?” he added when she said nothing.

Hermione nodded. “I am serious. I mean, let’s be honest, Ron, did either of us have plans to spend a night apart?”

The honest answer to that question was no. Hermione must have realised that because she nodded and pointed her wand at the newspapers. 

“So, we would essentially be living together anyway, just not officially. So why not make it official?”

“But —” Ron looked at the papers. “— you… you want to live with me?”

“Do you want to live with me?” Hermione asked. 

“Yes!” Ron said before his brain had a chance to contemplate a more appropriate answer. “I mean… well, yeah, I do. But I thought… I didn’t know if you’d —”

“And once again, you’re acting as if I’m not in the same place as you are in our relationship, Ron,” Hermione said, though she smiled at him. 

“Sorry.”

“I know we’ve spent a fair amount of time apart, but I love you and if we didn’t do it now, we’d probably do it in a year or so anyway.”

Ron contemplated her for a moment, fully aware of the smile playing at his mouth, and not caring one bit. “You always surprise me,” he said after a moment. 

She smiled.

“Alright, let’s do it then. If that’s what we both want.” He finished dressing and climbed fully into bed, drawing the blankets up to his waist. “Though, will you please tell me why you’ve suddenly started collecting newspapers? Is this your way of trying to tell me of your bad habits or something?”

“No,” Hermione said, “it’s me trying to find us a place.”

“Oh. In a Muggle newspaper?”

“They have sections with places to rent,” Hermione explained. “I thought it would be an option…” She shook her head. “But it was all a little complicated, even for me, so I then looked at the Prophet. There’s not much in there, but I found two small advertisements from yesterday’s and today’s editions.” She tapped both Prophets with her wand and all the words disappeared save for two miniscule ads in the middle of each one. She passed them to Ron. 

“One is in a little almost all wizard village, which looks alright, but I was more interested in the other one. It’s in Diagon Alley, which is really convenient. It’s just a little more expensive.” She looked up, some apprehension on her face at those words.

“You’re worried we couldn’t afford it?” Ron asked. He looked at the advertisement. It would cost fifteen Galleons a week for the place in Diagon Alley. The other one was only ten. 

Hermione hesitated. “Well, I know —”

“It’s alright, Hermione,” Ron said. “That isn’t too bad. Even a trainee Auror’s wage isn’t too bad.”

“I don’t have a job yet, Ron, and I won’t until after the NEWT results come in — and that’s if I get decent enough marks, of course.”

“Which you will,” Ron said. 

“Well, either way, I… it might be hard, but…”

“What are you trying to say, Hermione?” Ron asked, trying not to laugh. 

She blushed. 

“I feel really bad about this, Ron, but at least until I can get a job, you may have to —”

“Consider it done,” Ron said, closing the paper. “I’ll have us covered until then. It’s alright.”

“Ron, it’s a lot of money. I know —”

“No, it’s fine!” Ron said, grinning at her. “Honestly. I’ve never been able to be the one to pay for something for someone else. I’ve always wanted to be able to do that. And I can cover that well enough, with some gold to spare each week. Don’t worry. Besides, once you get all your Outstanding NEWTs, then we’ll be even again, alright?”

Hermione said nothing. 

“We’ll get this place,” Ron said, pointing to the Prophet with the Diagon Alley advertisement. “And, we’ll live together, and we’ll be happy. We can even throw a housewarming party once we move in. Have everyone over.”

Hermione laughed. “You’ve got it all planned out for someone who didn’t think we were ready for that step.”

Ron shrugged. “Once you get my mind on something, I discover I like it. You, for example —”

“Ron!”

“What? It’s true.” Ron shrugged, leaning across to kiss her, grinning. “Love you,” he said.

“For some reason,” Hermione said, looking at him amused, “I love you too. And I’m so excited to be living with you.”

Ron drew her towards him, kissing her forehead. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m excited too.”

And he was. He really was. 

[llendrinall]

What if the golden trio + Draco magically get sucked into a universe where Riddle was killed before the potters were. And they grow up from babes to adulthood not remembering anything until they suddenly get their memories when each reach the age of 21 and ohh imagine how hard itd be on each's parents cuz they dont know whats wrong and all. Then bam Ron shows up engaged to a muggleborn he never spoke to in school and Harry and Draco are spotted on a date in a muggle zoo. The Malfoy's flip and so do the Potters.

It'd be a lovely story of healing, connecting and love and honesty I think they deserve it after the shit they went through.

The memories come to them in dreams. At first it’s just a strange, upsetting, dream that has a bit more consistency than dreams usually have and that lingers through the day while dreams fade away before you get out of bed. By the third night they have almost all the memories back, each dream slotting nicely with the previous one. Harry is understandably freaked out. He makes a quick trip to Godric’s Hollow to go hug his parents and then spends a lot of time looking at the one family photo they have in the living room, the one in which Harry and Dudley were seven. He stares at Petunia’s smile and wonders whatever happened to give him such horrible ideas about his aunt.

He and Ron are friends, living together as they went through the Auror training and now in their first year working as Aurors. Harry talks to Ron because he can’t shake that horrible feeling of dread; all the things he could lose or maybe all the things he has lost. That’s when they realize they have the same freaking memories, the same dreams, down to the nasty details like Ron leaving during the horcrux hunt or Harry being kind of a jerk about Ginny.

Ron, being Ron, is blessed with an eminently practical and down to earth sense of life. The dreams are strange and it would be very interesting to learn how come they got the same dream-memories, if something happened to their other selves and why are they suddenly remembering now. All those are very good and valid questions that someone should investigate. For now, Ron is going to find Hermione Granger and do whatever it takes to make her fall in love with him so he can marry her.

It turns out that Hermione has been getting the same dreams, the same memories, and when Harry and Ron – those two classmates she was friendly with but not super close to – come knocking on her door, she cries and she doesn’t know if it sadness for what they lost of joy to have them back. Ron once again shows his superior sense by grabbing her hand and saying that yes, this might be a super duper weird spell, and yes Hermione is right to suspect it and want to know why and where it came from, and yes, there may be some dark forces playing around; but none of that changes the fact that he loves her and even if the memories proved to be fake he will still love her because she has the courage and smarts to suspect the meaning of these memories and basically what Ron is trying to say is that he loves all iterations of Hermione. Sorry, but she is stuck with him.

They get married that same day, with Harry acting as a witness. Then they go tell their respective families. The Grangers take it surprisingly well and don’t even threaten Ron with dismemberment if he ever hurts Hermione. Instead, they ask him to do right by her. Ron, who might be going a bit mad, makes a vow of devotion and loyalty with his actual knee on the floor and the Grangers love it. They named their only daughter Hermione, of course they love it when an actual chivalric hero comes into their living room.

The Weasleys are a different thing. They know enough about magic to be suspicious of the sudden memories. Mrs Weasleys gives Hermione the stink eye because, to be honest, this sounds a lot like a love-potion. It’s only because Harry is there with the same memories and no wish to marry Hermione that Mrs Weasley doesn’t call the Wizarding Patrol immediately. Also, the twins and Ginny dislike Hermione. The twins slightly less so because they only had to suffer her as Prefect for a year, but for Ginny it was three long years of Hermione barring her from hexing and/or beating people. It was very frustrating and she blames Hermione for every pimple she got during that time. If Ginny had been allowed to hex Parkinson or Malfoy of freaking Finch-Fletchley every time they were their annoying selves, Ginny would have been much calmer and mellower and her skin would have reflected it.

So the Weasleys are not happy but there isn’t much they can do about it other than keep a close look on Hermione and wait for Ron to see reason.

It is a very busy weekend to say the least. On Monday Harry has vertigo because the week seems awfully empty (disarming a blood hex and capturing its creator, ppft, what is that for someone who remembers fighting Voldemort?). Harry would rather have his hours full so he won’t be overwhelmed by his thoughts. There is so much death in the memories! His parents, Sirius, Remus, Peter, even Regulus who is profoundly weird and very snobbish but James insists on inviting him to events and he keeps coming despite how uncomfortable he looks. They are all dead in Harry’s memories.

There is also Malfoy, who is even more of a jerk in the memories and who grew up to become an actual Death Eater like his father, someone who almost killed Dumbledore and who, when the time came, saved Harry’s life with a lie.

On Thursday the Auror office receives a call of dark activity in Minaford Park, which is where Draco Malfoy is living these days. Harry takes the assignment and makes quick work of the boggart and the ghoul that somehow were trapped under the stairs and were screaming at each other. As excuses go, it’s not too bad. Harry is certain that Draco could have done it himself, but it is messy enough that it seems believable that he would prefer someone else to fix it for him.

Draco offers Harry tea, which he accepts. There is a very odd tension in the air. Draco is down to his shirt sleeves and has shadows under his eyes and when he looks at Harry… It can’t be said that he looks at him funny. Draco was his usual snobbish self while he watched Harry getting rid of the creatures. But there is something in his eyes when Harry takes a seat and accepts the tea cup. Something almost like sorrow.

No, not sorrow.

Compassion.

“Look, Potter”, Draco says. “I am too old to start having prophetic dreams, but this affects you directly. You figure out if someone is playing with a timer-turner or what, here it goes.” And he tells Harry everything.

As one could expect, Minaford Park has a very beautiful garden. Draco and Harry spend hours after lunch walking through it. Ah, yes, Harry stayed for lunch. Draco insisted. He still had things to tell Harry and he was growing hungry.

They meet again on Saturday, ostensibly so Harry can tell Draco what he and Hermione had learned. Ron says he doesn’t give a damn where the memories came from. He only cares what he can do with them and so far he seems to be doing pretty well, having married Hermione and encouraged Bill to ask Fleur Delacour out. Hermione and Harry are a bit more worried, but Harry will admit the research effort goes 30-70% in Hermione’s favour.

Talking with Draco is good. He seems to share the same dread as Harry. Draco confesses that he is not happy with his conduct, or rather the conduct of the Draco that could be. He talks a lot about the fear and nausea at having the Dark Lord in his house, the smell of despair that took over the manor, the mad glint in his aunt Bellatrix’s eyes. Since Draco talks about his aunt, about seeing her mad and cruel and talking proudly about torturing the Longbottoms, Harry feels that he can talk about his own aunt Petunia and Draco will understand. Lily and Petunia don’t have the closest relationship, but to think that she could treat Harry like that…

The Sunday visit to the zoo isn’t a date. As soon as Hermione learns that Draco also has the memories she assigns work pairs and tasks. She sends Harry and Draco to check the reptiles in case they see something like Nagini in there. Both of them have the most memories of her. They should be able to recognize the snake.

Nagini is there and she is surprisingly cognizant for a snake which makes them suspect that she might be a horcrux. The discovery leaves them cold, a new kind of vertigo opening before them. They didn’t live through it, they are only memories, but the exhaustion of the war feels real and they don’t want to go through anything similar again.

Draco asks to go see the penguins and it might seem silly and contradictory, but watching them helps a lot to keep the chill from Nagini away. Neither can tell who initiated, but while in there they begin to hold hands. They go to see the butterflies next, which are in the next pavilion, and suddenly everything in the world looks much better. They don’t kiss when they part, but the way they look at each other is worth at least three kisses.

On Monday Harry receives a short message from Remus that simply says he has sequestered the Prophet’s copy but he doesn’t know how long he can keep Harry’s parents from seeing the news. Harry takes the morning off work and goes to Godric’s Hollow immediately so they can learn about Draco from him rather than the salacious gossip column.

James simply says, “MALFOY? You… MALFOY!?”.

He seems upset. Then he freezes and for the next ten minutes James says nothing. He doesn’t move. He is just there, in the kitchen, one hand in the air and the other holding a cup of tea that is growing cold.

“Harry, dear, I want you to come to dinner today.” Lily says. She has a worried frown but is otherwise unperturbed. “And tell us everything about those memories. Even the bad bits. This is important. It can be dangerous.”

“Yes! Dinner!” James screams, suddenly unfreezing. “Bring him to dinner. Tonight.”

“What?”

“No, you are right. It might be too formal, too soon. Quidditch, then. Does he like Quidditch? He must. I remember you complaining about him while you were in school.”

“He… likes Quidditch, yes.” Harry says hesitantly because even now he is not sure if his dad is talking about Draco.

“Perfect. We shall go see a Quidditch match, the three of us.”

“James.” Lily warns.

“Does anybody in this house know when the next Quidditch match is?” James cries over his wife’s warning that he is doing it again, just like with Sirius.

“Saturday.” Remus says.

“That’s too late! When is Sirius back?”

“Wednesday.” Answers Remus and despite his transformation exhaustion he nimbly steps away from Lily’s strike with the newspaper. Usually Remus would spend his transformation at home, but since Sirius had to go on a trip he came to James and Lily’s so he would have company, which led to the fortunate circumstance of being able to take the newspaper and delay the news.  

“Honestly, Remus.” Chides Lily.

“I’m not encouraging him! You can’t call answering his questions encouragement!”

“It is decided, then.” James announces from the chair. He has climbed a chair and is speaking from atop. “Friday, you bring young Malfoy home. We will play Quidditch and some board games and have dinner in the yard. Sirius shall bring Regulus so Malfoy is not the only Slytherin.”

“James, listen to me…” Lily tries with little faith that James would listen to anyone.

That same morning, at eleven, Lucius Malfoy receives a howler from James Potter composed of thirty-two seconds of mad laughter, which means that James must had listened to Lily at some point or most likely that she was able to take his wand.

It couldn’t be said that James Potter was happy to hear that his beloved son was dating a snobbish Slytherin prick, no, but as soon as he realized that Lucius Malfoy would be equally unenthused about it, it had awaken James’s unhinged tendency towards confrontation with the established power and forced adoption of families’ black sheep. He had done it to Sirius, he had done it to Remus, he had done it to Peter (even if it failed catastrophically) and he was doing it to Regulus now. He had even befriended Severus Snape. Oh! Snape! He should invite Snape too. That way they could make teams of four.  He would come if Lily asked him to.

And afterwards they explore those memories, and Lily looks worried and so does Snape. Regulus goes very quiet for a while but then he gives his opinion of what has happened and it’s the most words anyone has heard him speak but the multiverse theory makes a lot of sense.  

The Weasleys warm up to Hermione eventually. They can’t tell why, exactly, other that Ron is beaming these days. Also, every time she comes to the Burrow she brings a gift to Arthur. It is a very obvious ploy to make them like her but it works because she sees the gift through and answers all of Arthur’s questions no matter how long it takes. The twins took notes when she gave her physics lecture. It was most informative. They created two prank artefacts out of it.

They find the few horcruxes Voldemort managed to make. Peter, who had a falling out with the Potters years ago, resurfaces and tries to steal a horcrux and bring back the Dark Lord out of spite. According to Regulus some people are dedicated to bring their own destruction and you can’t do anything about it.  Barty Crouch Jr. also tries to bring Voldemort back, but by then Lucius Malfoy has been adopted by James even though he is a powerful adult man with his own family. It makes no sense. If anything, Lucius should be the one informally adopting people and grooming them under his wing to be his devoted friends and allies. But Lucius had become James’, just like Severus warned him it would happen, so he puts a stop to that Barty Crouch nonsense pretty quickly and to any other former Death Eaters with ideas. Lucius might not like the Potters but he likes the idea of Voldemort taking over his house even less, and whatever else his happening, it makes Draco happy, so.

What little of Voldemort remained alive, it is now dead.

The four of them, they have the shadows and regrets of two lives, the fear and pain of two wars, but the happiness afterwards… Oh, it is worth it, it is very, very worth it. It is the happiness of two lives, tenfold.  

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Bad Dreams

Based off of this request: Hello! I want to request a writing (again, since you’re so talent💖) about the reader waking up in the middle of the night after a bad dream. She’s sad. Then, she starts to feel safe when she hugs Harry, but she’s crying because she’s so grateful to have Harry in her life and eventually, Harry wakes up and comforts her. Thank youu!!

Thank you to @msmarian94 for requesting! 

I’m putting a triggering warning here because I went pretty in depth with this and some of the scenes are very detailed and can trigger some people (including me which is why i took a while with this) but if you are uncomfortable with this please don’t read! i have other stories you can find on my page or send me an ask or message to request anything! <3

*gif not mine but look how cute he is*

It was when you felt like you were in front of a pit of fire when you knew you were dreaming. 

It was when you felt yourself running out of breath when you knew you were dreaming. 

It was when you felt tears streaming down your face when you knew you were dreaming. 

Dreams are a very interesting concept. Once you close your eyes, you’re taken far from reality than you can ever imagine. It’s given the opportunity for a break from real life so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything for maybe 6-8 hours (if you’re lucky). 

But in your case, when these dreams do happen, you’re guaranteed 3 hours of sleep, and if it’s your lucky day, an extra hour. 

It’s particularly you’re enemy and a nightmare. These dreams started when you were younger; dreaming about real things that were scary and felt so real. You remember the first time it happened when you were about 11 years old.

There was water everywhere. Coming in from all corners and you couldn’t get out. You were in some room in a house, but it was more like a box since there was nothing in that room; just the four walls, you, and the water. It felt as if you were trapped in a box and the box was being torturously slow as it was entering the big body of water. The water was rising and rising as you banged on the walls of the box, screaming to get out. 

“Help! Please!” You continued pounding the surface. Tears began to stream down your face in frustration. Your head started to hurt from your screams that it made you feel dizzy and nauseated. 

“Please, no. Help me, please!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as the water was already up to your chest. You felt the box moving lower and lower that it was up to your chin. 

“Mommy! Please!” You cried for your mother, begging her to help you. You tilted your head up as the water had about a few inches left before you drown. As you feel the box moving lower, you take a deep inhale from the little space you have, and lower yourself so that you’re underwater. 

As you’re underwater, you’re still trying to break your way out by kicking and pushing the walls, but you have no luck. You’re not sure when you’re going to run out of air, but you know it’s soon. 

You’re floating in the tiny box as you feel your vision blacking out on you. You blink a few times to regain conscious, but everything goes black.

You’re suddenly feel yourself being brought back to life and let out a huge exhale. 

“Baby, oh my. Are you okay?!” You see your mom right by your bed, holding on to your face. You don’t reply, simply because you can’t. You’re still trying to regain and control your breathing as sweat and tears drip from your face. 

“You were calling for me—screaming for me, and I ran as soon as I woke up and heard. Nearly scared me to death when I opened my eyes. What happened?” She rambles on as you blink a few times at her. You don’t know if you’re alive or if you’re dead, and if you’ve just been brought to the light. 

“Mom.” 

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m here.” She brushes your hair back from your sticky forehead. 

“You’re here.” She nods at you, and you nod ever so slightly, the gesture reassuring you. 

After that moment when you were 11, the reoccurred almost every week. Luckily, it’s once a week; sometimes it’ll be twice a week, but no more than two times a week. 

It was something you had to live with. Something you had to sleep with. After the week would end and then comes around Sunday—the start of the week, you wouldn’t fall asleep. Not like you wanted to anyway. So there would definitely be many sleepless nights because of your dreams. 

You were scared of sleeping. It’s not something you should be scared of, especially when you’re entering your teens and you need to sleep to help you grow as well. 

You didn’t know why they happened or what they meant. You lived a very fortunate life and you’re grateful for it. 

When you were around 18, your parents thought it would be best to see a therapist to see how you react when you hear or tell her things. But she came back to you with normal results, and that she couldn’t detect anything. So you just had to live with it. 

This kind of changed your personality and mood for everything. You felt closed off to most people—not really wanting to talk or just being shy. You don’t speak much anymore when you were a chatty bird when you were younger. It affected your mood when you didn’t get enough sleep. You were moody and practically rude to everyone, even when you don’t mean to. 

When uni came around, you were a bit nervous to attend and dorm, but your parents and counselor encouraged you because maybe you needed a change of environment. You were nervous because if you do dorm and the dreams happen, your poor roommate would have to wake up to that, and you didn’t want that to happen. So, your parents were nice enough to get a small apartment (halfing the price with them since you’re working) near campus so that you would experience living alone and that no one would experience seeing you in that state. They were uneasy about that to say the least. They knew how bad the dreams could get that you could practically die from them, but with much convincing, they caved in. 

For the first two weeks of moving in, you didn’t sleep. Sure, you took naps here and there, and you would doze off, but nothing more than 2 hours. You’ve trained your mind and body to not go over that number. It was a safe time limit for you to not have them, and so far, it’s working out for you. You haven’t had any in two weeks, and despite the lack of sleep, you felt like you were well rested. 

Although it seems as if you’ve gotten the sleep part down, it really didn’t change how your personality. You were still a shy girl as you were several years ago. You weren’t as moody because you haven’t had any bad dreams, but the lack of sleep was practically killing you. 

“Hey.” Someone breaks you out from dozing off. You blink a few times and look around you, noticing you’re in the library. You look up at the person in front of you, seeing him look at you with a small smile. 

“Hi.” You say shyly. 

“I saw you dozing off and didn’t want people to look at you weirdly, or get kicked out. So, I decided to wake you up.” He smiles softly. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t figure out where you’ve seen him before. 

“Oh, uhm, thank you.” You quickly gather your stuff, and you see him slightly panicking. 

“You don’t have to leave now! I was just here to wake you up. Doesn’t mean you have to leave or anything. I’m sorry if you think I’m a creep or-”

“No, I don’t think that. Thanks for waking me up, genuinely. I have to get going though, so I’ll see you around, I guess.” You grab your things and walk away. You turn around to give him a last look and smile. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you in bio.” 

That’s where you’ve seen him. 

You go to class the next week to see a familiar face, who you’ve learned his name is Harry. You debate sitting next to him, but seeing as you actually know no one at uni, you don’t think it’ll harm anyone if you make friends with him. So, you walk over to his seat to find him already smiling at you. 

“I-Is this seat taken?” You’re extremely nervous to even be talking to him, so it was bold of you to ask him. 

“Yeah, it is.” You feel your face turning red and you frown slightly. You whisper a ‘sorry’ before turning around. He stops you before you get a chance to walk away. “I’m so sorry, that was a joke—a terrible one at that. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I feel horrible. But you can definitely sit here.” He genuinely feels bad that he made a joke, but you brush it off and take a seat next to him. 

And it was like that for the rest of the semester. You two were seat buddies. He would save you a seat if he got to class first, and vice versa. You don’t know if you considered him as a friend since you two had only talked inside of class, but it was the most you’ve ever talked to someone, especially knowing them for so long (as in 4 months). 

By the end of the semester, Harry finally had the balls to ask you to hang out with you outside of class, which you agreed. Although, it took you about three minutes to believe that he wanted to hang out with you, he reassured you that it was you he wanted to spend his time with. 

After two months of hanging out (as friends), he grew another set of balls to ask you out on a real date, which then again took you about four minutes to believe that too. But once again, he reassured you and kissed your forehead; to which you blushed at. 

After the fourth date, he asked you to be his girlfriend, and you shyly said yes. You’ve never been happier. 

After seven months of being an official couple, you finally let him sleep with you. Sexually, you two done it four months in. But having a sleepover, it took you awhile. 

You had told him about the dreams you’ve had (which since the time you started uni, they come about twice to three times a month, so they’re still happening), but not in extreme detail. You’ve just mentioned how it’s sometimes hard for you to sleep. He just doesn’t know how bad it is.

During the months, you’ve dreamt about your apartment burning down, to which you woke up coughing your lungs out. You’ve dreamt about the ceiling collapsing on top of you; you woke up gasping for air as it seemed like it was practically crushing you, causing you to lose your breath. You’ve dreamt about looking down into the ocean as you were standing on top of a cliff, but jumped in a dark room; you fell off the bed and hurt your elbow. 

He doesn’t know how you could practically die from these dreams. 

“I’m so excited, love!” He presses a kiss to your cheek as he jumps into bed. 

“Me too.” You giggle, practically lying to his face because you weren’t excited at all. 

“Can’t wait to wake up with you in my arms.” He wraps his arms around you and cuddles up to you. You both say goodnight as he places his face in your neck. You feel hot breaths on your neck and soft snores as you scratch his arm lightly. You try staying awake as much as possible just so he doesn’t have to witness you in such a state. 

You feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep. Harry eventually got off of you and laid on his side, his back facing you as you were on your back, leaving a space in between you two. 

Once you feel your eyes shutting, you knew there was no going back. 

“Harry, please.” You cry into your hands. You hear the front door open and slam shut loudly. 

“Hey.” He says casually as if he doesn’t see you sobbing your eyes out. 

“Hi. I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been so scared-”

“I’m not staying. I’m just getting my stuff, then I’m leaving.” He quickly walks to his stuff and grabs all his belongings. 

“W-Where are you going?” 

“Gotta go to school, love. See you later.” Before you know it, he’s out the door. 

You quickly run to the door and open it to be met with nothing. It’s dark and there’s no hallway. You close the door immediately and run to the window. You open the blinds to see the same thing behind that door: nothing. You run to the bathroom window and take a peek at it to find nothing, and you run back to the living room. You sit on the couch and start crying, suddenly feeling like everything is closing in on you and you couldn’t breath. You look up to see the walls slowly moving towards you, closing the space between you and the wall. 

“No, no, no. Please.” You stretch your arms out, seeing if it'll help with the space, but the walls keep pushing in, leaving absolutely no space. You’re practically shoulder-to-wall and head-to-wall, and it’s driving you insane. You’ve never felt so suffocated in your life. You can’t even bang on the wall to call out for help because that’s how tight the walls are to your body. You couldn’t move, so you just stand there helpless, while screaming your life out. 

You wake up with sweat all over your body and you feel your eyes stinging, probably from crying in your sleep. You put your hand on your chest, feeling your heart going crazy. You’ve never felt so helpless in a dream, but it also seems like it’s reflected to your reality. You feel helpless when it comes to these; you don’t know what to do about them. And the thought just makes you want to cry all over again. 

You turn to look at Harry, glad to see him in the same position and get up and quietly go to the restroom, grabbing a towel to wipe off the little sweat off your body. You wash your face to calm you down, and you take a few breaths before climbing into bed again. 

You slowly cuddle up behind him with little movements as much as possible. You place your arm around his waist. As much as you didn’t want Harry to be in bed with you when the dreams happen, you’re glad that he’s present next to you. You’re also glad that he’s still asleep and you didn’t disturb him from your possible stirring. 

Being with Harry made you feel so happy. You couldn’t believe that he was in love with you; it shocked you everyday. He knows to reassure you all the time because it you were so to yourself in the beginning. You were scared to fall, but when you finally fell, he was there to catch you. Your heart feels so heavy with love and admiration that you start to cry as you hold him a little tighter while placing your head on his shoulder, sobbing quietly. 

You feel Harry move slightly and you try not to move. He turns around in your arms, so he’s face to face with you, and he puts his arm around your waist. This whole time you’re watching him get comfortable next to you. 

Harry woke up slightly while moving, and felt someone staring at him. He slowly opened his eyes to be met with you looking at him with tears in your eyes. He notices how red your eyes are, how damp your cheeks are, and how you sniffle. All he’s thinking about his how long you've been crying without him knowing. 

“Love? What’s wrong? How long have you been crying?” You shake your head. He holds your face and rubbed his thumb across your cheek, wiping your tears. 

“I know it’s not nothing, but I just want to know why you didn’t wake me up when you started crying.” You shift closer to him so you’re under his head, face on his chest. 

“Had a bad dream.” Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment. This would be the first time he’s there when it happened. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He says as he starts rubbing your head. 

“Didn’t want to disturb you.” Your face is practically smuggled into his chest, so he can feel your breath on his skin when you talk. 

“Hey, don’t worry about me okay? When this stuff happens, I want you to wake me up so I comfort you, alright?” He feels you nod against his chest. “Do you want to tell me about it or are you uncomfortable doing so?” You’ve always loved that about Harry; he made sure you were always comfortable, even in the littlest things like talking about a certain topic. 

“I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I...was crying and you came in like you didn’t even notice I was crying, and just walked out. T-Then the room started closing in on me, literally, and I was trapped in a tiny box.” You explain softly without crying. 

“Oh, love. I’m so sorry that happened to you. I promise you I would never neglect your feelings.” Immediately, you feel relieved to hear that. Although, you know that he would never, you really needed to hear that after your dream. “I wish that didn’t happen to you. You don’t deserve that at all. I want you to see me in your dreams as a happy thought, not something like that.” Harry says as he looks down at you. You look up at him, seeing him frown, which makes you sad.

“I always see you as a happy thought. Don’t worry, this doesn’t change how I see you. You’ve already shown me you care and love about me, and that’s all I ever ask.” You rub his back lightly. 

“I’m glad. I love you so much.” He kisses your forehead, making butterflies swarm in your stomach. 

“And I love you. Thank you for understanding.” You kiss his chest, making him blush. 

“Of course, baby. Maybe we can look into more in the morning? See if we can find someone to help you. I know you’ve talked to someone a few years ago, but I don’t want you to be scared to fall asleep.” Just by hearing him want to help you, it’s making you fall deeper in love with him. You smile and nod at him about to say more, but he beats you to it. “Let’s try and get some sleep, yeah? Or would you rather we do something else?” You see a smirk already planted on his face causing you to shake your head. 

“Oh, Styles. What am I going to do to you?” 

requests are open!

[sunchosens]

listen before i go

pairing: andreil  tw: suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts  rating: mature word count: 7,423 read on ao3

Andrew thinks about dying, sometimes.

On days when the going gets especially difficult. On days when even the feeling of his clothes rubbing against his skin risk setting him off. On days when rage chokes up in his throat and sinks back into his stomach to clinically carve a gaping wound. 

Some days he climbs onto the roof, stands on the ledge, looks down. He spreads his arms wide. Rocks on his heels. So far, yet so close. He never goes over. 

Other days, he looks at the scars on his wrists. He’d come close before, when the goal in his mind was harm but not death. He wonders, absently, if he had more purpose then. Now, all he can feel is the choking emptiness, the crushing pain. He takes a knife out of his wristband. Holds it over the pulsing vein at his wrist. Trembles. He pushes down. Not enough to break skin, but the cold steel shocks him any way. He puts it away. 

One time, he collects the leftover drugs. He’s got some stashed away, can always find more. He pours them out in front of him. Maybe this wouldn’t hurt so bad. He already hurts so deeply, filling every pore of his body, every single breath he takes. Counts them methodically. Sixteen in all. He thinks that would be enough to do it. Puts one in his mouth, then another, and then another, but the feel of the pills against his tongue triggers his gag reflex and he’s spitting them out and rinsing his mouth out with water before any of them go down. He collapses on his bed, stares at the ceiling, thinks about what it would feel like to be happy. 

Andrew gets there, some days, he thinks. He’s not sure, not having much to compare it to, but the swelling crest in his stomach feels like what he imagines being happy to be. Usually when he’s around Neil. Still, those days are far and few inbetween. Andrew’s tried everything. He tries to drown his sorrows. He tries to escape to the roof. But he always circles back to the same thing. 

Death. 

He thinks it might be the only way out. 

He can’t sleep, haunted by visions of his past, of Drake, of the doctor, of losing Neil. He sees Aaron, high out of his mind, he sees his mother, screaming at him moments before her death. They never leave him. Each of them have carved out a small piece of his heart and mind, and they’re waiting for him to give in. He keeps fighting, he doesn’t want to let them win, he’s never been a quitter, not really, but they won’t take a hint. They want him to lose. 

Andrew thinks sometimes that might be easier. In the end. Because, really, who will miss him? 

Kevin is busy lately, and he and Aaron have never been close, and Nicky’s going to Germany in a few months, and Neil... 

Oh, Neil. Neil might miss him, Andrew thinks. He thinks about the fire in Neil’s eyes and the set to his jaw and the stubbornness that coats his soul. Remembers the way Neil went to the Nest, to Riko, for Andrew. For nothing. Just another person Andrew’s let down. Andrew loves Neil, he knows, more than anything. But he’s not sure it’s enough. 

Just another all-encompassing feeling, nowhere to go, no one to trust, nothing to show. Oh, Neil deserves better, he knows. Better than Andrew, whose affections are given in half, longing glances, and stolen kisses, and knees knocking together under the table. Neil was tortured for Andrew, Neil lied to Andrew to protect him, Neil would die for Andrew. 

Andrew will die first, he knows. He cannot live in a world without Neil. 

But Neil knows, or must suspect. He catches Andrew, once. 

“Andrew,” Neil calls softly, behind him. Andrew blinks, the wind whipping against his face, his eyes burning. His hands are balled into fists, fingernails digging into the skin of his palms. “Are you okay?” 

He looks towards the sky. It’s going to rain, he thinks absently. Maybe that will conceal the tears he knows are coming. There’s a hot ball of agony in his stomach. It’s a bad day. His chest heaves. He’s trying to catch his breath, but it’s just making him more upset. “Go home, Neil,” he manages to say, and his voice doesn’t sound ragged, the way it feels coming out. It’s like spitting daggers. There’s a knot in his throat he keeps swallowing around and he rocks forward a little further without meaning to. 

“Come with me,” Neil says. He doesn’t sound any different than usual, a little hoarse, but Andrew knows he’s been fighting off a cold. “I recorded over Kevin’s Exy games, one of the Star Wars movies was on. He’ll be furious.” 

Andrew hears shuffling from behind him. Knows Neil is coming closer. The sky opens slightly, rain drips down his cheeks. He tastes salt on his mouth, knows the dam is open. He tucks his chin to his chest. Takes a couple of deep, heaving breaths. His throat aches. He’s hollow inside. 

He’s drowning in a sea of emptiness and no one can throw him a rope. But Neil is behind him, patient and willing. He can’t put Neil through this, seeing him die, not today, so Andrew raises a shaking hand, brushes the water off his face, rubs his eyes, and steps down off the ledge. 

“Sounds like fun,” he answers. Tries to inject life into his voice, even though he knows Neil isn’t expecting it, and manages to come out just as blank as he usually does. 

Blank blank blank no one looks for more no one expects more he is a blank mask and a blank soul and a blank person and one day he will crack and it will all come spilling out but that will be too late and he will be alone when it happens and it’s all too much and he wants it to end. 

Needs it to end. 

Neil’s face is pale, Andrew sees the flicker of concern in his eyes, but he holds out his arm to Andrew. “C’mon,” he says. “It’s cold.” Andrew lets Neil pull him in, lets Neil wrap an arm around his shoulder, tucks himself into the warmth that is his body. 

The whole in his chest is being filled in with the smell of Neil and the feel of Neil’s hipbone pressed against his side, but Andrew knows it’s just a matter of time before it hollows out again. 

Neil watches him extra close after that event, but Andrew makes sure not to slip up again. People look to him, expect him to be okay, the solid one after everything they’ve been through. Which, really, Andrew thinks, is where they messed up. 

Andrew never promised to be okay. He never promised to be solid. He was high out of his mind for the years they’ve known him, trapped in a happy, medicinal bubble. Andrew hates the feeling of that happiness more than anything he’s ever experienced in his life. He was screaming and clawing in his mind, unable to make a sound. 

The thought of going back to that chokes him. 

He wakes up in the middle of the night once and thinks about going into the kitchen, taking a knife, and opening his wrists. Neil is out of town for the weekend, talked into going to New York with Matt and Dan for an impromptu weekend. He didn’t want to go, but Andrew all but threw him out the door. 

No one would find him until Monday. He thinks about it for half an hour, before he reaches over, grabs his phone, calls Neil. 

Neil answers on the third ring, right before Andrew was going to hang up. “‘Lo?” He says. His voice rolls over Andrew like a balm, soothing him. He can’t talk for a second. “Andrew?” Neil’s voice is more focused now, and Andrew can hear the hint of panic in his voice. He thinks he must not be doing as good of a job hiding his true thoughts as he previously believed. 

“I’m here,” he whispers, unable to raise his voice. His mind is screaming at him. “Just...” he clears his throat. “Just missed you.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but he thinks maybe it will distract Neil from the other thoughts he might be having. 

There’s a long exhale of breath from the other side of the line. “I miss you too,” Neil says softly. Andrew can hear fabric rustling, imagines Neil sitting up in bed, hair messy and chest bare. Neil never sleeps with a shirt on. 

His room feels painfully empty without him next to Andrew, his body heat a comforting reminder that Andrew has something to wake up to in the morning. “Don’t go.” Andrew’s still whispering. “Fall asleep with me.” 

“Okay,” Neil agrees easily, his voice low. “Okay, Andrew.” 

Andrew falls back asleep to the sound of Neil breathing, the steady count of his inhales and exhales the rhythm Andrew times the beat of his heart to. 

He wakes up to Neil sliding into bed next to him. “Hmm?” He mumbles, rolling over to face Neil. 

“Shh,” Neil murmurs, pulling the blankets back up. “Go back to sleep. It’s okay.” 

Andrew blinks, still half-asleep, at Neil. “Wha’ about New York?” 

Smoothing a hand down the side of his face, barely touching him, Neil gives Andrew a soft half-smile. “I wanted to come home. Go to sleep. I’m here. It’s okay.” He kisses Andrew’s forehead, featherlight. Andrew doesn’t protest, falls back asleep with the comforting weight of Neil next to him. 

Sitting in his chair in Bee’s office, Andrew picks at a loose thread. “What’s bothering you, Andrew?” She’s looking at him softly, her clipboard off to the side. 

He contemplates not answering, but knows she’ll see right through him. The words lie on his tongue, hot and heavy, a weight pinning him to the ground. They strangle him, wrapping around his throat like vines, stealing his breath away. He opens his mouth and pauses, closing it again. Saying it aloud makes it real, makes it irrevocable. He can never close this door once it’s open, can never take the words back. 

“Andrew?” Bee prods gently. “You’ve been unusually quiet the past few months. I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

That’s all anyone’s been asking him lately. If he’s okay. Obviously he’s not okay. His chest aches with every beat of his heart. He has no way forward, and he doesn’t know how to manage this pain. He clears his throat. Bee has never led him astray before. Neil doesn’t like her, but he’s been encouraging Andrew to make his weekly sessions, when the last thing he wants to do is get out of bed. He clears his throat. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he says finally, staring at a point to the left of Bee’s head. It’s easier that way. 

She waits a moment, clearly seeing if he’ll say anything further. “Thinking about what?” 

Andrew blinks. His eyes are dry. He licks his lip. His mouth is like a desert and his palms are sweating and he longs for something cold to run along his skin. He feels like he’s going to erupt into flames. 

“Dying.” 

Bee makes a noise of understanding, and his eyes flicker over her face long enough to see an expression of acceptance on it. She knows, then, or suspected at the very least. “Have you tried anything?” Her voice is deceptively calm, especially for the question she asks. 

He shrugs, moving his gaze back to the wall. “A few times. I can never go through with it.” His voice hitches, against his will, and he hates himself a little bit more for it. 

“Andrew,” Bee soothes. “We are going to get you through this, okay?” 

He swallows down tears and nods. If there’s anyone he trusts to keep him alive, Bee is one of the few people. 

“...third time he’s skipped practice this week! You can’t keep covering for him, or this will fall on the both of you.” 

Andrew can vaguely hear Kevin’s raised voice through the wall of his bedroom. Neil must have let him into their apartment, although Andrew can’t fathom why. He’s been laying in bed, the curtains drawn, for the past several hours. He’s not sure how much time has passed. 

“Fuck off, Kevin. I mean it.” Neil’s voice is so low Andrew has to strain to hear it. He sounds furious, in the way Andrew knows he gets sometimes. “I told you he was sick. Accept it at face value and move on.” 

“No!” Kevin’s voice is getting louder, and Andrew thinks he might be coming closer to the room. “I’m not going to let him slack off. You should no better than to enable him. I don’t know what little conspiracy you two are concocting in your love den or whatever the fuck this is, but I’ve had enough. Dan and Coach agree with me.” 

“Take one more step and you’ll regret it.” There’s a pause. “I’m serious, Kevin.” Andrew knows that tone of voice means Neil means business. Silence, and then the sound of a brief scuffle. Kevin yelps in pain. “Get out. Tell everyone that he’s sick and to fuck off and mind their own buisiness. I mean it.” 

More silence, followed by the slam of the front door. A few moments pass, and then a shaft of light falls over Andrew as the bedroom door opens. It’s gone as soon as it comes, Neil shutting it behind him, and the sound of his shoes getting kicked to the floor. “Andrew?” 

Andrew rolls onto his back. His eyes are dry and his head is throbbing and he feels too heavy to move. “I fuck up your Exy obsession?” The words are harsher than he means them to be, but he’s so exhausted. Neil has been walking on eggshells around him for weeks, never quite meeting his eyes, and Andrew’s riling for a fight. He wonders if it’ll make him feel more alive. 

Neil laughs softly. “Not even close,” he answers, and the other side of the bed dips as he sits down. “They’re just worried,” he says, but Andrew can hear the steely anger in his voice. Neil’s not half as good as concealing his emotions as he wants to think he is. Usually, that amuses Andrew, but today, it exhausts him. 

“What time is it?” He asks after a long silence. He’s not sure what Neil is doing, and he’s not sure he wants to know. The bed moves as Neil shifts. 

“A little after six.” 

Andrew’s missed all of practice then. Not for the first time this week. He’s not surprised Kevin’s so pissed. He would be too, if the roles were reversed. But now the only feeling it elicits is exhaustion. He closes his eyes briefly, feels the pounding of his head, wishes he could fall asleep. 

The wind takes Andrew’s breath away. It’s cold, and he’s rocking back and forth to keep his blood flowing. “Where the hell are we?” He asks Neil, who’s leaning over the hood of the car, a map spread. Neil’s bundled up in a large coat, his hair is windswept, and his chinks are pinker than usual. He’s distractingly attractive, and it’s driving Andrew crazy. 

“I think... Missouri?” Neil drags a finger down the map, furrows his brow, and tilts his head. “We might have drifted into Illinois somehow. I’m not quite sure how that’s possible.” 

“You’re truly inspiring confidence,” Andrew grumbles, tugging his coat tighter around him. He can’t bring himself to be truly put-out with Neil. The further they get from campus, the better Andrew feels. 

This whole endeavor was Bee’s idea. In one of their sessions, after the topic of dying came up, Andrew mentioned how trapped he felt at Palmetto State. How all the expectations of everyone were crushing him, and the heavier they became, the less he wanted to rise up to meet them. So she suggested he get away over winter break. 

Andrew brought the idea up with Neil, about taking a road trip together, just the two of them. Andrew was fine leaving everyone else behind, but Neil was who he leaned on. So, thirty minutes after Neil’s last final, Andrew handed him the keys and they were gone. 

They drove straight through the night, only stopping when they had put a few hundred miles between them and everyone else. Now, Andrew feels the weight lifting off him, so he can finally breathe. 

“Do you want to read this?” Neil asks, scowling. He glances up, catches sight of Andrew, bundled to hell and wearing two hats, and his face softens. “Besides,” he says, voice the same level of antagonistic even though he now looks like he wants to kiss Andrew, rather than strangle him, “when was the last road sign you saw?” 

“Who cares?”Andrew asks, shuffling a little more to keep warm. “Let’s just get in the car and drive until we see one and worry about it then.” 

Neil looks back down at the map like he wants to argue, but eventually gives in, rolling it up. “We should have asked for directions at the last gas station, like I wanted,” he grumbles, rolling the map up. “Then we wouldn’t even be in this position.” 

Andrew rolls his eyes. Neil’s been worrying about their location for the past few hours, and Andrew eventually got so fed up with it, he made Neil pull over. To him, it doesn’t matter where they are. The further away they are from anyone else, the better. He slides back into the car, his fingers tingling, even through the gloves he’s wearing, and his face frozen. He turns the heat on high, and his body begins to defrost in a distinctly painful experience. 

“I hate you,” he tells Neil once he’s back in the car. Neil stares ahead, sitting in the driver’s seat, shakes his head once, and laughs. 

He glances at Andrew, that unbearable fondness still present, and smiles. Andrew’s taken aback by the sheer level of affection in the expression. Neil rarely smiles, not real ones anyway, and whenever he does, it’s like he’s smiling with his whole body. His eyes crinkle, and he gets a dimple in his right cheek, and it’s like he’s radiating warmth. “You’re a terrible liar,” Neil says softly, shaking his head again. He pulls off the side of the road. 

Andrew reaches out, where Neil’s hand lays on the armrest. He hovers his hand over Neil’s, hesitating for a moment. Likely sensing his hesitation, Neil flips his hand over so his palm faces up. Andrew settles his hand on top of Neil’s, tangling his fingers with Neil. The contact grounds him, reminds him that he’s present in this moment, that whatever waits for him when he falls asleep can’t find him here. Neil applies the tiniest bit of pressure and Andrew returns it, something approaching happiness swelling inside of him. 

They eventually find a motel and a gas station so Neil can fill up the tank. He was right earlier, and they wound up in Illinois somehow, so they decide to visit Chicago the next couple of days. They’ll have to return to South Carolina soon, but Andrew’s doing his best to not think of that at the moment. “Should we try to find somewhere to eat?” Neil sounds dubious, and Andrew rolls over to see him peering out the window, frowning. “I think it’s going to start snowing soon.” He sounds disgusted, and Andrew feels disgustingly fond. 

“Stay in,” Andrew answers. He pats the bed. “Come sit.” 

Neil glances over his shoulder at Andrew, sprawled out across the bed. The desk attendant had given them a weird look when they bought a room with one bed, but hadn’t said anything outwardly rude. Andrew’s death glare might have had something to do with that. Neil moves towards him, kicking off his shoes in the process and collapsing on the bed next to Andrew. 

“This makes me think of when I was younger,” Neil says after a few minutes of silence. They’ve moved, so Neil’s head is resting in Andrew’s lap, and he’s sitting with his back against the headboard, fingers tangled in Neil’s hair. He tugs a little harsher than usual, the words taking him off-guard. He knows immediately what Neil is referencing, his years on the run with his mother before she died. 

He continues after a few moments, more tentative than before. “Good or bad?”

Neil makes a considering noise, practically arching so he’s pushing his head into Andrew’s hands, encouraging him to continue. “I don’t think it’s one way or the other. Just haven’t been in a motel as shitty as this one since then.” 

Andrew stays silent, choosing instead to focus on on raking his fingers through Neil’s hair. Neil will continue to talk, unprompted, if he’s comfortable enough.  “It’s strange,” he says finally. “Being alone with you like this. Or alone at all, I guess. I haven’t since then either.” 

Andrew pauses again, not quite sure what to do with the information Neil is offering him. When nothing further is forthcoming, he relaxes. Neil is so cryptic, Andrew is often caught off guard when he does offer information freely. He wonders if this is Neil’s way of encouraging conversation about Andrew’s struggle. “Good or bad?” He asks again, instead of going into what’s on his mind. 

Neil doesn’t immediately answer. “Good, I think. It can all be a little much sometimes. You’re never like that.” Andrew feels a little mollified after that. He knows, logically, that Neil enjoys spending time with him, but he always manages to doubt himself. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Andrew says driely. Neil makes an offended sound and twists under his hand, rolling over so he’s on his stomach, instead of his back. Andrew widens his legs in response, allowing Neil to slot himself in between them. 

“Is this okay?” Neil asks, pushing his body up so his weight is resting on his arms, rather than Andrew. He nods silently, embracing the warmth of Neil’s body on top of his. Neil slowly lets himself down, so they’re lined up, body to body. Neil’s still laying down, while Andrew’s sitting up, so Neil’s head only meets Andrew’s chin. “You’re confusing,” he says, once he’s comfortable. 

Andrew rolls his eyes, tucking two fingers under Neil’s chin and lifting it, so Neil meets his eyes. Neil lets Andrew manhandle him, pliant under his hands. It’s one of the things Andrew loves most about Neil. He’s placed all his trust in Andrew, trusts him implicitly not to abuse it, not to abuse him, and Andrew guards that trust close to his heart. They moved past the yes and no stage in their relationship, comfortable with casual intimacy. Neil still is gentle with him, announces his movements before he does anything, rarely startles Andrew with a touch. Neil knows when Andrew is open, knows when he needs space, and in return, never abuses that knowledge. 

It’s because of this, Andrew feels confident to dip his own chin, pressing a kiss to Neil’s mouth. Neil parts his lips slightly, inviting, and Andrew follow his lead. He kisses Neil again, moving one hand to cradle the back of his head, while he grips Neil’s chin more firmly with the other. He traces Neil’s mouth, feels the insistent press of Neil’s tongue against his, thinks he could stay right here, in this spot, for the rest of his life. He never wants to leave. 

His eyes are half-open, so he sees when Neil closes his, breaking the kiss. Neil moves his mouth to Andrew’s neck, quickly finding his pulse point, where he frequently dedicates his attention. Neil mouths over his skin, hot and wet, and Andrew arches his back, making a noise he’s not ever going to admit, feels Neil smile against his skin. 

“Your fetish is not attractive,” he pants. “Haven’t we been over this?” 

Neil breaks away from his neck for a moment, looking up at Andrew with a devilish glint in his eyes. “Who said it was my fetish?” He answers, breathless. His mouth is redder than usual, his eyes are slightly glazed and his hair is mussed from where Andrew was running his fingers through it. 

Andrew pinches his shoulder gently. “If you’re so insistent, there’s something else you could put your mouth on,” he says, straight-faced. Neil rolls his eyes, but Andrew can see the hint of a smile playing around his mouth. 

“Unbelievable,” Neil says, already shifting so he’s on his knees, hands moving to Andrew’s belt. He glances up at Andrew, eyes alight with humor, and grins. Andrew wants to live in this moment forever. 

He sits straight up in bed. Andrew’s heart is racing, and there’s a clammy feeling in his stomach, and he can’t quite catch his breath. 

He tries to count to five, tries to remember what Bee told him to do when he was panicking, but all he can think about is the dream he was having and the way his body is betraying him and the catch in his throat when he tries to breathe normally and he can’t breathe and everything is spinning and oh god he should be doing something but his hands are shaking so bad he can’t stop and he tastes bile and it’s so dark in here and he can’t see and he can’t breathe and 

“Andrew,” Neil says urgently, moving next to him. The sound of his voice breaks something in Andrew’s head, and he flinches violently, still struggling for breath. There’s rustling next to him and light floods the room as Neil switches the bedside lamp on. Andrew can’t quite focus on him, and his hands are still shaking, and each breath is a struggle to push out. 

“Count to five,” Neil says, moving off the bed and coming around to Andrew’s side. He kneels on the ground beside Andrew, not touching him, which Andrew is unfathomably grateful for. “Just count to five in your head, you can do it. It’s okay. Here, I’ll follow with you, okay? One, two, three, four, five. Okay? One more time. One, two, three, four, five.” 

Andrew nods, repeating the words in his head. He’s rocking slightly, but the counting helps calm the rapid beat of his heart. Neil’s voice is soothing, low and emotionless, and Andrew matches the pace of his breathing to the pace of Neil’s counting. “One more time,” Neil encourages. “One, two, three, four, five. Just like that. It’s okay, everything’s okay.” 

Slowly, the world stops spinning, and his heart stops trying to jackhammer out of his chest, and he can breathe normally again. His mouth is still dry and his head is pounding, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out anymore. “Water,” he manages to whisper, and Neil moves away from his side. He wishes briefly he hadn’t said anything, wants Neil to return even before he gets up, but when Neil pushes the cup into his hands, he drinks gratefully. 

“Everything is okay,” he says, once he’s caught his breath enough to speak normally. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

Neil is staring at him, brow furrowed, but his face wipes clean of any emotion. “Okay,” he answers, moving to stand. “Don’t apologize. If everything is okay...” He trails off when Andrew climbs out of bed, pulling sweatpants and a sweatshirt on. “Where are you going?” 

“I need some air,” Andrew says, pulling on a hat and gloves. He shoves a carton of cigarettes into his pocket, forces his feet into shoes. He’s halfway to the door before Neil says anything else. 

“Andrew, it’s 4am. It’s freezing outside.” He doesn’t sound reproachful, just tired. Andrew grinds his teeth together, staring at the wood of the door. He can’t look back, knows seeing Neil will keep him in the room, when all he needs is to get out. 

“Go back to sleep,” he orders, moving forward without looking over his shoulder. He steps out into the cold air, slams the door behind him. He’s not sure where this anger is coming from, not sure why he’s so mad at Neil, who’s just worried about him. But staying in that room, four walls boxing him in, would have set his teeth on edge. 

Maybe it’s his dream that’s sending him careening off-course. Neil had been in that too, and it isn’t something Andrew wants to think about. What he wants to do is smoke the rest of the cigarettes in the box, find a roof, and contemplate throwing himself off it. 

Andrew finds stairs that take him up to a locked door. He jams the lock open, makes it to the edge. He lights his first cigarette, hand shaking, takes a deep inhale. Exhales the smoke. The smell grounds him, even though he still feels half-there. He climbs up onto the ledge, looks down at the ground. It would be so easy, he thinks, to go over. Neil’s not here to stop him this time. All he has to do is lean forward. 

He takes another drag of the cigarette. It’s burning down, heat licking his hands. He watches it, the flame flickering red, and flicks it off the roof. Lights another one. Takes a drag. He’s still on the edge. Still feels like blades are running down his spine. He feels uncomfortable in his own skin. Wants to tear it off and start anew. 

Andrew steps off the ledge. Sits on it instead, lets his legs hang over the edge. He watches the sun rise from that position, doesn’t move until he’s half frozen and stiff. Neil never comes to look for him, and Andrew sits until he thinks he’ll catch hypothermia if he stays there any longer. 

When he steps back into their room, their bags are on the bed and Neil’s in the shower. The bed is neatly made, and it’s like they were never there at all. Andrew opens Neil’s bag out of curiosity, sees everything neatly folded and tucked away. He thinks some habits die hard, and Neil’s never been one to break routine. 

Andrew changes, is standing by the door when Neil finally comes out of the bathroom, dripping wet. He doesn’t say anything to Andrew about where he’s been all night and doesn’t mention what happened. He just grabs his bag and heads back into the bathroom. Andrew looks at the scars on Neil’s back as he goes, wonders if Neil’s ever wanted to escape life on this earth the way Andrew does. 

He doubts it. 

They go to breakfast at a small diner down the road. The coffee is terrible, but Andrew pours three creams and 6 sugars in it, stirring it methodically. Neil gets hot water and tea, as well as a large stack of pancakes for them to share. Normally, Andrew would be ravenous, but his stomach claws at him uncomfortably, and the thought of eating makes him sick. They don’t say anything, and the cheery music playing overhead makes Andrew want to shift uncomfortably. 

He knocks back his coffee before the food even arrives, and is well into his second cup by the time it comes. Neil must notice that Andrew’s not eating anything, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Andrew’s coming out of the bathroom, headed to meet Neil at the car when he overhears him. “...didn’t eat at all,” Neil’s saying, hushed, into his phone. He’s got his back to the restaurant, standing at the car, and Andrew can barely hear him over the wind. He moves closer, but Neil’s so distracted with whatever the other person is saying he doesn’t notice. 

“I tried, last night, did the counting thing like you told me. It seemed to help, but he left right after. Never came back. I thought he might have died.” Neil’s voice is growing in volume as his emotions rise, and Andrew wonders at the thought that he’s affected Neil in this manner. 

Andrew waits until Neil says goodbye to whoever he’s talking to, hands shoved into his pockets. “Who was that?” He asks when Neil turns, surprise barely registering on his face. 

“Kevin,” Neil lies smoothly, his face blank. “Ready to go?” Andrew nods silently, sliding into the driver’s side. He guesses he should probably be more angry with Neil for lying to him, but the ever present exhaustion seems to have slid back into his bones. 

Andrew stairs at the space on the wall above Bee’s head. He’s slumped down in his chair, picking at his thumb. His skin has been crawling all day today, and the room is uncomfortably hot. Bee’s sitting across from him, scribbling on a piece of paper. They’ve just finished their session and she grilled on his trip with Neil. 

He’s suspected she’s who Neil called from the diner, but he hasn’t brought it up. Neil still hates talking to Bee, refuses to go with Andrew to her office, so he’s not sure why or when Neil started talking to her of his own free will. 

“How was the trip?” Bee asks, finally looking up from her papers. She’s especially perky today, and it’s setting Andrew on edge. 

He shrugs, the closest thing to an answer he has for her. She just smiles at him, used to his silence by now. Andrew frowns, still feeling unsettled. “Why don’t you ask Neil. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to tell you,” he says, the words coming more like a sneer than he intends. 

She looks up quickly, her eyes wide. “Andrew?” 

He settles back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been talking about me behind my back.” She doesn’t immediately answer. “Haven’t you?” 

Bee shakes her head, face pale. “Andrew, Neil is just worried about you. He didn’t mean anything by it.” 

Andrew wants to roll his eyes, wants to scowl, wants to let her know how much this angers him. Instead, he swallows it down, stiffens his spine, and steels his face. “If he’s worried about something, he should come to me about it. Not run behind my back to you. We’re not in kindergarten.” 

“I agree,” Bee says, nodding. She pauses. “Maybe... Neil doesn’t feel like he can come to you about whatever it is he’s worried about.” Andrew doesn’t respond, preferring to stew in his anger. 

The rest of the session continues, polite, if not a little strained. Bee is clearly trying to mend whatever she thinks is broken, but Andrew couldn’t care less. The more he thinks about it, the angrier he becomes with Neil. Good intentions or not, this is a direct violation of Andrew’s trust. 

“Oh, Andrew, here,” Bee says, as he’s rising to leave once the hour’s up. “I think you should consider this.” She holds a piece of paper out to him. 

He takes it unthinkingly, only pausing once he looks at what’s written on it. “A prescription?” As much as he tries to stop it, a hint of betrayal seeps into his words. “You want to put me on drugs again?” 

“Andrew, you’re dealing with depression and suicidal urges. These will help stop that. They’ll make it better.” Her voice is gentle, soft, like she doesn’t want to startle him. His fist clenches, but he shoves the prescription into his pocket to be forgotten, and turns to leave. 

Andrew’s ditched practice for the fifth time that month when Neil decides to take another course of action. Things had been frosty between them for a few weeks, especially seeing as Andrew’s fairly certain Bee told Neil that Andrew knew. They never talked about it, but Neil had been back to his normal self and stopped tiptoeing around Andrew like he thought he was going to break. 

He’s taken to taking long walks around campus and town, instead of going to class or practice, and he’s just returning home when Neil calls him. He picks up seconds after it starts vibrating. “Wanna get lunch?” Neil asks, not wasting breath on formalities. They both gave up on that, seeing as it wasn’t really necessary, and also because it made Kevin unexplainably mad. 

“Now?” Andrew checks the time on the stove clock. “It’s 3:30.” 

Neil sighs. “Practice was rough. Dan’s being especially stubborn when it comes to drills, and my legs are going to fall off. I could eat a horse.” He sounds breathless, confirming his story. 

“Yeah, okay. Text me where.” 

“See you soon.” Neil hangs up before Andrew can answer, and soon his phone is buzzing with an address of a local sandwich shop. 

When Andrew gets there, he slumps down in a booth with his back to the wall, facing the door. Neil’s running late, which is unlike him, but Andrew guesses he got caught up with Exy stuff. 

The bell above the door jingles, drawing Andrew’s attention. He frowns when he sees Aaron come in. “What are you doing here?” He asks, once Aaron’s sat down at his table. 

Aaron looks bored, just as uninterested in being there as Andrew is at having him there. “Neil asked me to come,” he says, sounding like he’s wondering how that got him there. 

“And you agreed?” Outside of their monthly meeting with Bee, this is the most the two of them have spoken in weeks. 

Aaron rolls his eyes. “He asked nicely. He also gave me this.” He pushes a piece of paper across the table towards Andrew. “Cute.” 

“Is this some kind of fucked up joke?” Andrew shoves the paper, Bee’s neat handwriting for a prescription familiar. “No one’s laughing.” 

Aaron nods, like he expected this reaction. “No,” he agrees, looking down at the table. “No one’s laughing.” 

A wave of fury crashes over Andrew, and he pushes himself to his feet. He needs to walk this energy off before he ends up doing something he regrets. “Sit down,” Aaron tells him. “Shut up and listen.” 

His hands still trembling with anger, Andrew does as he says, ready to leap up and leave at the drop of a pin. 

Aaron looks up, meets his eyes. There’s a burning intensity there that’s unfamiliar to Andrew. “One of the worst days of my life was seeing Drake on top of you.” Andrew flinches at the mention of Drake despite himself. Aaron shakes his head viciously. A muscle in his jaw flexes. “You’re my brother. We’re supposed to protect each other. And I failed.” 

Aaron pauses, like he’s considering what he’s going to say next. “Neil told me you tried to kill yourself.” 

Andrew flinches again. The words are callous, and somehow having Aaron say them out loud makes them more real. Aaron doesn’t seem to be paying attention to his reaction. 

“I was angry when he told me. I thought he might be lying at first, like another fucked up way of trying to get us to connect. But he showed me that. And I realized he wasn’t lying. Was he?” 

Aaron’s eyes meet Andrew’s. It’s like staring into a mirror. Andrew’s always hated his own reflection. Shows too much of himself. “No,” he says, toneless. “He wasn’t lying.” 

He nods like that was the answer he was expecting. “Looking back, I should have known the second you stopped coming to practice that something was wrong. But I was stupid. I thought maybe you were rebelling against something, that Neil was just covering for you.” Aaron’s fist clenches. “You’re scared of this, aren’t you?” 

He pushes the prescription towards Andrew. “I’m not going to take drugs,” Andrew snaps, heat licking at his voice. He doesn’t mean to lose his handle on his temper, but he feels like pins and needles are pricking his skin. “Never again.” 

Aaron nods. “You know, when you locked me in that bathroom, I hated you more than anything. After what you did to Mom, I never thought I could forgive you. I was happy to hate you for the rest of my life, or until I could leave. I don’t want to hate you anymore, Andrew. It’s exhausting and it’s pointless, and you’ve always been trying to protect me, even if it’s a fucked up kind of protection. But I’m scared if you go through with whatever suicide plan you have, I’ll resent you for the rest of my life. I want to protect you, for once, but you won’t let anyone in close enough to do that. Me, Neil, Bee, we just want you to be okay. It’s up to you. Do it or don’t do it, but I’ve said my piece.” 

Aaron slides out of the booth, standing up. “You don’t always have to do everything on your own.” 

Andrew watches him leave. Once the door shuts behind him, he reaches out to pick up the prescription. He smoothes the paper, before folding it neatly and tucking it in his pocket. 

Much to Andrew’s displeasure, trying to get back into shape after barely going to practice for the past few months is a very unpleasant process. He’s winded after three laps, but they have another seven. Neil sticks by his side, even though Andrew knows he’s the fastest on the team. 

“I don’t need your pity,” he snaps, but the words lack the bite he intended, mostly because he’s struggling to draw enough air into his lungs to breathe. Neil just laughs, cheeks slightly pink from exertion. 

“I know you don’t,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Ready to go?” He takes off running, drawing Andrew after him. He’s going to be damned if he lets Neil Josten out-run him. Just because Neil’s been running for his whole life doesn’t mean Andrew’s going to let him beat him. 

He notices Dan watching them sprint around the court with a fond smile, and wishes the rest of the team would learn some subtly. 

“Close the goddamn window, would you?” Neil grumbles from behind Andrew. Andrew’s got the window propped open, sitting up in the window sill as he smokes. The air is still cold in the morning, even though the seasons are shifting. 

“I can if you want the apartment to smell like smoke,” Andrew answers, exhaling smoke. 

Neil comes up behind him, bundled up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, both the hideous PSU orange. He wraps his arms around Andrew’s middle, pressing his forehead against Andrew’s shoulder. “That’s all you smell like anyway.” 

He reaches up to take the cigarette from Andrew and Andrew lets him, enjoying the press of Neil against him. “I hate you,” he says, almost without thinking of the words. 

Neil snorts, and his hair tickles Andrew’s neck. “Liar.” He presses a kiss to Andrew’s neck, and the coldness of his nose makes Andrew flinch slightly. “Can you even smoke on the meds?” 

Andrew shrugs. “Never saw anything that said I couldn’t.” 

He’d eventually given in and started taking the medicine that Bee recommended. He’d been nervous at first, of being trapped in his own mind, unable to express himself, but thankfully all they did were keep him grounded. He no longer felt so empty all the time, even though he still woke up in a blind panic on particularly bad nights. Bee said it was all a process the last time he talked to her, so he’s hoping she’s right. 

The apartment falls quiet as they pass the cigarette back and forth, Neil still wrapped around Andrew. “I love you,” he says, so quiet Andrew almost doesn’t hear him. It’s not the first time they’ve said it, but it doesn’t come out often. Neither of them have lived lives that embraced love and openness and Andrew’s still trying to learn how to be vulnerable with Neil. 

“I love you too,” he says, just as soft. 

He still doesn’t feel right all the time, and sometimes he wants to escape to the roof, but he’s getting better. He thinks the good days are starting to outnumber the bad days. Andrew wants to freeze this moment, here in the apartment he and Neil have made for themselves, with Neil holding him, like he’s holding Andrew’s pieces together. Neil’s never been afraid of getting cut on Andrew’s sharp edges, and Andrew thinks that might be what he loves the most. 

[queencatherynerhys]

Taken - Part 10 TRR AU

A/N : I apologize to all of you, my loyal followers! I love you guys and I hate disappointing you, but life has just been so crazy lately that I haven’t found the time to write. I was going through my drive and reading this story and was inspired to finish this unfinished chapter. It sat in my files half finished for the longest of time. I don’t think this is very well written, but I wanted to publish it anyway. Sorry!

Summary: How does the gang cope after Catheryne’s rescue? How will she?

Tag List:  @devineinterventions2 @madaraism @theroyalweisme @drakewalkerwhipped @laniquelovewrites @drakesfiance @hhiggs @hellospunkiebrewster @alicars @mrswalkerreynolds @mfackenthal @simplyaiden-blog @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cocomaxley @boneandfur @lizeboredom @crayziimaginations @umccall71 @zarina-x-zig  @ranishajay @heatherfilliez @flyawayblue56 @captain-kingliamsqueen

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Catheryne eerily feels the motion around her. She is unconscious, but she registers what is happening in her surroundings. Liam is carrying her through the corridors of the palace. He lays her down on her king-sized royal bed and cocoons her with a warm blanket. She can feel him sitting on the edge of her bed and hears the soft tone of a dialing phone. She wills her eyes to open, but her brain doesn’t respond.

She hears Liam’s conversation. Her heart breaks when she hears the distinct, recognizable pain of his voice, “Please, doctor, just tell me what it is.”

A good few minutes pass by. Catheryne connects the dots and figures that Liam is talking to Dr. Mallon about her recent episode. She could hear the faint mumble of her old ally’s voice. She couldn’t make out what he was saying but it sounds serious.

“Thank you, Dr. Mallon,” Liam whispers and hangs up the phone. Catheryne hears him release a deep sigh. She can hear the stress and the burden in his breath. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for making him that way. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. We were supposed to be happy and planning our wedding right now, but instead they were growing farther apart every day from the strains of Catheryne’s condition.

The bed shifts as Liam lays down beside her. He whispers in her ear, “I promise, Catheryne, I promise that I will fight beside you through all of this.”

She hears the sincerity in his voice. She has no shadow of a doubt that Liam will do anything for her. He will fight for her. He will die for her. He would give her the world, and she knows it. But could she allow him to waste his life on a broken woman like herself? Could she, in good conscience, let him sacrifice himself for her?

She decides to stop her worry for now. For the time being, she just wants to be close to Liam just the way they were before she was taken. After a little while, she hears the rhythmic breathing of Liam sleeping. She tried to go to sleep, but she was afraid. She is afraid of the images that she sees when she closes her eyes. She is afraid of the screams that she hears; mostly hers. So, she lays in the moonlit room with only Liam’s steady breathing to occupy her mind.

In the moon light, Liam’s features are almost angelic. She has never seen him so peaceful, so calm. The creases on his forehead are nonexistent. The stresses he carries from being the monarch gone as he lays there dreaming.

It was in that moment that she realizes she can’t burden him. She can’t stay with him in her condition. She lost herself in that tunnel and she needs to find her again if they were ever going to work.

Catheryne watches him sleep and lightly traces his cheek. Liam subconsciously gravitates toward her touch and inches closer to her. She smiles at the action and lay her head on his chest. Being in his arms is the safest she’s ever felt, but she couldn’t…she doesn’t feel safe…not anymore. The sad and terrifying thing is that the reason is because of herself. She might have escaped the tunnels, but Amir won in the end.

As she lays there in the dark, she decides to temporarily sleep her problems away beside the man that she loves. Morning will come and new complications with it. For now, she wants to just feel like the old Liam and Catheryne before that dreadful night, before she was taken.

The next day Catheryne wakes with an empty, cold bed beside her. She rubs her eyes open and finds a note on the pillow. She takes note of the neat Liam’s penmanship before reading, “Good morning, my love. I apologize for leaving so early, but there are matters I must attend to. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let the staff, guards, or our friends know. I love you.” She admires his limitless of affection for her. Even through all he’s seen of her, he never stops loving her. She doesn’t doubt that he will ever stop.

Two months have slowly crept by in the palace and things have taken a routine around Catheryne. She had fully healed physically, and her episodes are less frequent. In the morning, she is awoken by the giddiness of Maxwell’s voice and personality. He forces her to a walk around the palace. By this time, the press has all but left and she can venture to the front of the palace and walk the garden mazes once again.

Ever since the events that transpired, Maxwell couldn’t seem to break through her walls. He’s tried different tactics and approaches but none of them works. He does understand why she is guarded. The pain and torture she went through is unfathomable. He just hopes that over time her mentality will also heal.

After their walk, Hana comes by to join them at breakfast. Maxwell leaves to let Hana try to coax Catheryne out of her shell. They walk up to Catheryne’s room and Hana tries to talk to her. She talks about some design ideas she has for Valtoria since Catheryne offered a place for her at her duchy when she was dealing with her family’s fiasco.

When they talk, Catheryne mostly sits by the window and watches the horizon with unreadable eyes. She nods and gives her opinion when asked, but more often than not she sits quietly as Hana fills the room with her divine voice and words. Sometimes, she offers words of encouragement such as “hang in there” or “it will get better over time”.

Will it? She wonders to herself. She has watched as the world adjusted around her. They don’t treat her the same. They keep her at arms lengths, are careful with their choices of word as they know one wrong move can send her to an episode. They look at her with wary and hesitation. She has contemplated one decision since the day she returned from the hospital and as time went on that decision became more solidified in her mind.

Liam visits her that night after two weeks of not seeing him with excuses such as too many paperwork being the reason. She understands he’s the king, but she also knows that he is limiting the time she spends with her. She can’t figure out why. In the moments that she needs him the most, he isn’t there. Is it because of fear? Shame? Embarrassment? Whatever the reason being, it still hurt.

She can still feel and see the love he has for her as they spent the night in each other’s arms, but there’s a tangible distance between them. One that they know should be spoken and addressed, but also knows how delicate the situation truly is. Catheryne holds onto Liam tightly afraid to let him go, unprepared to say goodbye. She feels the rise and fall of his sleeping form and memorizes it. An hour and a half go by and she makes sure that he is in deep sleep by whispering his name.

“Liam?” No response.

She rises from the bed and head to her closet to retrieve the backpack she has packed with essentials days ahead for this and settles it by her desk. She turns on the dim lamp and begin to write her final letter to her king.

My Dearest Liam,

When we first met in New York, I told you that what I wanted most in life was to fall in love. I lived and saw how my parents never failed to love each other even with the…lifestyle…that they chose. Coming to Cordonia for you, I was able to make that dream come true.

Falling in love with you has been the greatest adventure. I know with the recent events you blame yourself. You probably wish that you can turn back time and not meet me that fateful night so I wouldn’t come here, and I would be safe, but Liam I wouldn’t trade this for anything. I wouldn’t trade our love for my safety or anything in this world.

I know that you’ve been avoiding me since I woke up from the hospital. I don’t comprehend the reason why you would, but I forgive you. I know this isn’t easy for you. I guess putting distance is easier than having to deal with the situation. Ignorance and avoidance are far easier. I don’t blame you.

By now, you must be wondering why I am writing you this letter. The painful reason is to say goodbye. I am not brave enough to tell you in person. If I did, I could never fathom leaving you. Please understand that this is the hardest I’ve ever had to make. It is the most painful thing I’ve ever had to do, and I’ve been tortured.

You must be wondering why I am doing this. It’s for you. I can’t stand watching the world change around and for me anymore. Everyone looks and treats me differently in the palace. I can see fear in the eyes of our friends, and in your eyes. I can no longer be ok with being the person that holds you down.

I also need to leave for my own self. I can’t heal being trapped in the palace. I lost my old self in the walls of those tunnels. I must find who I am, how I fit into this world, into your world again. I don’t know if we will ever see each other again. One thing I ask of you is to live your life. Be happy. If not for yourself, for me.

I love you, Liam. I will always love you. You own my heart, now and forever.

Catheryne

She folds it and lays it gently on top of her pillow. She bends low and kisses Liam’s forehead and gaze at his moonlit face and memorizes it the best she can. A teardrop falls from her eyes to his cheeks and he shifts slightly. She wipes it away with her thumb as she lowers a light and gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” she whispers to his ear.

She walks away and slips quietly out of the room into the dark corridor of the hallway. She maneuvers the various turns that lead to the staff’s entrance and quietly steps out of cool night air.

She heads toward the stables and is startled when she hears a voice.

“Knightely? What are you doing here?” Drake asks.

“Oh, Drake! I didn’t even notice you were here. I didn’t know you would be here so late. What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was going to take Nightingale for a night ride. Couldn’t sleep,” it wasn’t a complete lie. She was going to take her magnificent black horse for a ride. She just wasn’t returning with her.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Oh no, uhm, you don’t have to do that. I just wanted to be alone, if that’s ok,” she hurriedly says. Come on, Ryne, you were taught to lie for a living and to survive, surely you can lie to one of your best friends just this once.Drake sees through her and squints his eyes suspiciously.

“Knightely, what’s going on? You don’t seem like yourself. And what’s with the backpack?”

She sighs. Nothing gets past him. She might as well be honest. He’ll be able to help Liam when he wakes and finds her gone.

“I’m leaving, Drake. It’s for the best.”

“What are you talking about? What do you mean you’re leaving? Where are you going?”

“I’m not the same. I have to go find myself and I can’t do that while I’m here and when I’m surrounded by people who look at me every day with pity in their eyes. Like the one you’re giving me right now,” she spills.

She watches as he paces the length of the stable and back to her, running his fingers through his hair.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Does…does he…does Liam know?”

“No, he’ll find out when he wakes,” she admits shamefully. “I can’t say goodbye to him, not in person. There are many things I can take, Drake, but not that. I won’t be able to forgive myself when I see the hurt in his eyes. I won’t be able to live with myself. I wouldn’t be able to leave.”

“Then, don’t. You don’t have to do this, Catheryne.”

The use of her name startles her a little. She knows he means it if he uses her actual name and for a second, she doubts her decision, but then she remembers the countless reasons why she must go.

“I have to, Drake. For me. My body has healed, and now it’s my mind’s turn. Please, Drake, you gotta let me go.”

“God, Catheryne. Do you know what you’re asking me? When Liam finds out that I let you go, he might never forgive me. Don’t you understand that I have to try to convince you to stay?”

“But you know you won’t”

A moment passes before he whispers, “I know.”

“Go,” he whispers so quietly into the night that Catheryne might not have heard it all if her focus hadn’t been so intent on him.

“Thank you, Drake.”

“Will we see you again?” he asks as she opens the gate to Nightingale’s pen.

“I don’t know. I hope so,” she answers truthfully.

He stays quiet as he watches her prepare the horse for the ride. When she was finished, she turns to him.

“Take care of him. He’ll need you now more than ever. And tell him…tell him, I’m sorry and that I love him more than anything in this world.”

She mounts the horse and gets ready to take, but he grabs the rein before she can flick it.

“You know he’ll never stop looking for you, right?”

“I know, but if there’s one thing my parents taught me, it’s how to disappear. Goodbye, Drake. You were the best friend an outsider can ask for.” She places her hand on his shoulder and squeezes it lightly.

He places his hand on top of hers. He didn’t need to say anything else. She knew what he meant with that simple gesture and he lets go and watches her as she became nothing but a dot on the dark horizon.

[namjuicyy]

Forbidden - Chapter Six

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst.

Word Count: 2.7k.

Summary: Prince Hoseok had never been told “no” until his father lay on his deathbed. Hoseok was ordered to marry, but his eyes were set on the one woman he wasn’t allowed to have.

WARNINGS: Implied smut; conspiracies; talk of death; mentions of violent sex; mentions of attempted suicide; domestic violence; general violence against women and female prisoners; character death; trauma.

If you are triggered by any of the warnings given, please DO NOT read this chapter. Your emotional and mental well-being is more important than a story. If you feel yourself slipping and need to reach out to someone, my DMs are always open. Please come and talk to me. It can help.

Previous / Next

Hoseok found his way into your bed that night but this time he asked your permission before he used you to take his stress away. Of course, you granted him the permission he needed and ended up breathless for the majority of the night, your insides sore from all the pounding your lover had done. However, this was a good sore - a sensitive sore because despite his need to de-stress, he still thought of you and your pleasure. You couldn't count how many times he made you cum that night and you were too exhausted by the end of it to even try and count. Instead, you lay on his chest and listened to his heart beating rapidly under its sweaty shell.

"I fear I am addicted to you." Hoseok confessed in the darkness. His voice was tinged with sadness.

"Tell me of your troubles, my love." You requested.

Hoseok sighed. "My brother knows about us."

"What?"

"He promised me he would keep it a secret and my brother is good with his word. No one shall discover us from his lips. Though his silence comes with a price."

"It usually does. What do we need to pay him?"

"You need not do anything, my queen - but once you leave I am to forget your existence and pretend I do not love you. I must be a good husband to Jieun."

"I should be a better wife to Taeoh."

"Nonsense. He does not treat you as you deserve."

"So, you expect Jieun to be unfaithful?"

"I encourage it. I am an awful husband to her and I cannot expect or believe that she would remain faithful to me when she could be happier with someone else."

"I wish Taeoh had your beliefs."

"I do too. Then I could keep loving you the way I want."

"If Taeoh shared your thoughts, how do you think our lives would be different?"

Hoseok thought for a moment. "There would be much back and forth between the kingdoms and it would still be done privately, but I would be waking up in your arms as often as I am able. I would not have to wait for special occasions or invitations to hold you. I would take you away to summer homes and winter palaces and we would start our own lives away from the rest of them. Jimin and Taeoh can run our kingdoms without us. We would have many children, but that would be connected to my staying deep inside of you for all of our waking hours." Hoseok paused. "If I knew that you were free - or at least felt free enough - I would whisk you away from here. We would live as paupers in the forest or in a neighbouring kingdom and never see any of these people again."

You sat up slightly and looked at him with sadness and love in your eyes. "Taeoh is the only reason I am trapped."

Hoseok cupped your cheek and a mischievous grin appeared on his face. "The only solution is to kill him."

"Hoseok!"

"What? I know of someone who can provide us with poison. Just add it to his tea and he would die. You would be free. Though, they may suspect you or one of his lovers."

You were quiet. "Not unless I add it gradually. He would get sicker and sicker until he eventually stopped breathing."

"When did the jesting end?"

"I do not think I ever considered this to be a fool's conversation. How soon can you have the poison ready?"

"Before you leave. No one would know."

"We should do this."

"My love, are you sure?"

"I have never been more so. I never wanted this life. I never wanted to be the queen of a kingdom, to be sold to another man by my own father for money. Taeoh is a horrid husband and I cannot be happy with him. As long as I can bring Eunjae with us, I do not care about anything else. She is the only family I truly have now."

"Eunjae is always welcome."

"Then it is settled. Taeoh is to die."

Many nights throughout your marriage you had thought about the death of your husband. Unbeknownst to anyone, you had even snuck into his chambers a few times after he had left you torn in two, holding the first heavy or murderous object you could find and held it above his head in the dark. You had been so close to ending it; to finishing his life and ending your troubles as they lay sleeping in the bed but it was too obvious. Everyone would know it was you. Not that you cared sometimes. On your darkest of nights, you too wished for your death and thought the death of your husband would trigger it as all of your attempts to end your life had been futile; and so you woke up morning after morning forcing yourself to live a life that kept you caged and miserable.

You know Hoseok was joking about your husband's death, but little did he know this was the perfect solution to your troubles. This was a genuine way out for you. The throne, as you had no children with Taeoh, would be passed to his nephew, Kihyun. Kihyun already had a wife and children, so you would be free to live out your days alone, rich, and with the one man you adored. Hoseok had mentioned in previous conversations that he couldn't abdicate without ascending the throne first, which meant he would have to stay in his kingdom until the death of his father - but once he was able he would pass down the throne to Jimin. There was no doubt in either of your minds that Jimin would take a wife soon, and she would fall pregnant with the next heir to the throne. The two of you would be able to live out your lives in blissful exile; doing as you pleased, saying what you wished, and living a life you had both chosen for yourselves.

All of your belongings had been packed in suitcases and brought to the copious amounts of carriages accompanying you and your servants to and from Hoseok's kingdom. Your time in his palace had come to an end, and all too soon you were whisked from your chambers and slotted at Taeoh's side, bidding farewell to the King and Queen and thanking them for their kind hospitality. Of course, no one but Eunjae and Jimin knew about your relationship with Hoseok, so he had to be as professional to you as he possibly could. So, his goodbye to you wasn't with a long, romantic kiss. Just a simple, polite kiss to the hand. He held your hand, kissed it and walked away from you, leaving you holding something else. A small vial of clear liquid and a note folded into tiny squares. The poison. Suddenly, your heart began to race. You couldn't believe you were going through with this.

The ride back to your kingdom was long and tiresome, especially as Taeoh had decided he wanted to tell you of all of the things he hated during your stay. He complained about Hoseok's parents and brother, and even about Hoseok himself. He complained about the staff and how incompotent they seemed to be. He complained of the food - the party. The only thing he didn't complain about was the Princess Jieun. To his own wife he mentioned how he would like to take the Princess's innocence for himself and keep her locked away where no other man could find her and have her. Alas, he was stuck with you. His wife who never made any noise when he fucked her or seemed to show him any affection.

As soon as you arrived at your palace, he dragged you up the stairs and into his chambers. He bent you over his bed, tore your dress off you leaving you naked and vulnerable and rutted inside you. All throughout his torture, he mentioned Jieun. How he wanted to fuck her and everything he would do to her and how she was better than you. Though this angered you, a simple thought of Hoseok had you gushing around your husband. You didn't cum. His disgusting cock could never make you cum; but he did. Inside of you, of course, hoping you'd be with child soon. Before he had the chance to send you away, you left of your own accord, strolling out of his room naked as the day you were born with your head held high and your ruined dress in your hand. His days were numbered, you reminded yourself.

Taeoh's first cup of tea was delivered to him by his favourite fuck toy. She had no idea she was giving him the first drops of poison that would kick off his slow and painful death. You had managed to distract the dumb girl long enough to slip a few drops in his tea before sending her on her way.

Taeoh had a following five cups of tea the day after you arrived home, and by the third day he was already coughing and spluttering about the palace. You would hear him coming before you saw him. He mentioned his sickness to you, and you suggested it was simply a travel cold and that it would pass soon enough - but just to be sure you would write for the doctor to arrive. You did as you promised, the doctor checked Taeoh over and found nothing wrong with him, meaning the poison was just as undetectable as promised.

It was within the first week you noticed things taking a true turn. Taeoh's temper had been growing shorter and shorter by the day - his sickness taking a toll on him emotionally. He hadn't tried to enter you since you arrived home and as far as you knew, he hadn't tried it with any of his regular whores either. So not only was he furious with his sickness, he was furious with his lack of orgasms and needed some kind of release. Shouting seemed to be providing him with that release. You were unconcerned with his new behaviour until a new woman entered your room one morning in the place of Eunjae.

"Where is my usual maid?" You asked. This was extremely unusual for Eunjae to not show up to work.

"You didn't know?" The new maid asked.

"Know what?"

"She stole from the King, Your Highness. She is awaiting her trial which will be some time this week. Forgive me, ma'am. I thought you knew."

The new girl dressed you quickly giving you the time to run to your husband's office and barge in on his meeting, completely unphased by the government officials who were in attendance. Your anger had been triggered, never had you felt such rage before. "What is this I hear from the staff about my maid?"

"Not now, woman. Can you not see how busy I am?"

You picked up his ink pot and threw it at the wall, allowing it to smash into tiny pieces and staining everything the liquid touched. "I do not care how busy you are! How dare you accuse one of my maids of theft. I have known her for many years and can assure you she would never do such a thing. Revoke your accusations at once!"

Taeoh stood from his seat and slapped your face. "How dare you speak to your superior in such a manner. Were you not taught a woman's place in the home? Or need you be reminded of such a roll?"

"Revoke your accusations at once!" You ordered again.

Taeoh grabbed your hair and pulled it. His face was merely inches from yours. "I will do no such thing, whore. I caught the wench stealing from me, and she will be punished accordingly."

"And what is the punishment for a crime she did not commit?"

"The punishment for theft is death."

It was as if your whole world had stopped turning. Everything moved in slow motion, including Taeoh releasing you from his grasp and pushing you away. He had said something to you but you couldn't process the words as your mind had gone into shut down. He planned on killing your family - the only person who had been there for you from the beginning. You began to beg and plead with your husband, forgetting that all the members of parliament were sat in the room watching this happen, but instead of showing you any compassion you were dragged away by two guards who gently pulled you out of the room and back to your chambers.

When you had composed yourself, you left the palace and headed for the prison. You were terrified of losing Eunjae and so your fear had manifested itself into anger and dominance. You were no longer the quiet wallflower Taeoh married. You were unstoppable and demanding, especially when the warden of the jail initially refused to let you see her. When you did see her, you wept.

Eunjae sat chained to one of the stone walls, wearing the clothes she was arrested in but they were all dirty and torn in places. What skin you could see had been cut and bruised where the officers had taken it upon themselves to beat her. If there wasn't a bruise on her bare skin, there was dried blood where no one had bothered to bathe her. She was exhausted: you could tell so just by looking at her. There were dark circles around her eyes which were void of emotion as she'd seemingly cried out all of the feelings she had until she was left a numb shell in a damp prison.

"Eunjae!" You cried her name desperately, and when she looked up at you all the colour returned to her face. Hope appeared in her eyes. She stood (weakly) and moved as fast as she could to the barred door where you were waiting for her.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry!" She cried. Tears had began to flow once more as she apologised to you over and over again.

"Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong."

The way Eunjae looked at you was almost as though she was shocked you believed her innocence. It didn't surprise you, though. Of course no one would believe her innocence, the King was against her. What he said went no matter what. "I let you down, ma'am."

"What nonsense. You could never. You have done nothing wrong. I will try and fix this. I will try and get you released from here, I promise."

"If you don't-"

"I will."

"But if you don't - you should know, ma'am, that you are such a wonderful person. You have been my best friend for many years and it's been a pleasure dressing you every morning."

"You are not going to die. I'm going to talk to the guards and get you released. You will have to go somewhere else, you won't be able to stay in this kingdom but I shall join you soon."

"Ma'am?"

"I have a plan. We will be living in Blossom Manor House just outside of Qedian. I cannot tell you everything, it is too risky. I just need you to go there and wait for me, okay?"

"I do not understand. How?"

"I cannot tell you now but all will be revealed in due course. Please, hold tight. I will find a way to get you out of here."

You grabbed hold of Eunjae's hands and held them for a little while before silently saying goodbye to her and rushing towards the warden's office. He wasn't there to barter with, and the guards were seemingly distracted, so you were able to take the key from the warden's desk and break Eunjae out that way. You ordered her to go out the back door so she wouldn't be seen, and would be able to slip into the streets undetected. Of course, she obeyed and was on her way to safety as soon as you'd departed.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Love Potion Extravaganza Ch. 6

Note: Songs featured are Love Kernelshttps://m.youtube.com/watch?v=bkAjUBtn_TM, Sex with a stranger https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=p13clQPzK1g, We should definitely not have sex right now https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Yh5kyAmoFrg, Maybe you’re not the worst thing ever https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=sLYiyK7uqUE, Off with his shirt https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=sB6Wu-dwENM and Love is strange https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=vNy16_OJVkI. 

Isabel jumped up and tried her hardest to focus on what was in front of her. Reality not the wedding day dream.

Gabe was 19 years old. She was 12. She was way too young for him. She barely got to spend time with him now as he was either doing adventures with her sister or doing guard duty.

By the time she would be old enough to date him, she might be in college somewhere else and he would get married to someone else.

Logical conclusion, this was a ridiculous crush that she needed to get over with quickly. She couldn’t be a stammering, blushing mess every time he came to the palace. That would be so embarrassing.

But when she came to that conclusion, her chest grew tight and tears came to her eyes. She wanted to be with him and every time she said she couldn’t it just made her heart hurt. She needed advice from someone else, she was too emotional to see this rationally.

She had no idea where her sister was and even if she did, she wasn’t sure she would be helpful. After all, Elena probably didn’t think t anyone deserved to have her. She needed someone who had less of a biased opinion. Someone who was realistic about these matters, but kind.

She went to the library since that was where her abuelos usually went when they wanted to give Elena time to talk to fellow royals about non-political things.

Instead she was met by the sight of her cousin, clad only in boxers, pressing Doña Paloma against the shelves.

Isabel’s immediate question about abuela flew out of her head, and she gave a shocked squeak, “Are you wearing Esteban’s robe?”

The adults looked at her in surprise and pushed away from each other. Doña tightened Esteban’s red silk robe around her and answered curtly, “Do you need something?”

“Where’s abuela?” Isabel murmured, scuffing the toe of her shoe on the floor, feeling the intense urge to look anywhere but at them.

“Probably napping.” Esteban answered and Isabel fled.

As she went along the hallway where the family rooms were she already heard her abuela’s voice singing, “Dig that lush pectoral lawn. Drink in those lats and traps and delts

And after that who knows what else

Oh, off with his shirt!”

Isabel paused and without changing her speed, ran back to the library.

“On second thought, Cousin,” She entered the library again, making sure to lower her eyes, “You might be able to give me better advice on my problem.”  

Esteban groaned in exasperation at the second interruption, “Isa! Can’t you see we’re doing something far more important than your problems.”

Isabel could imagine it, but she didn’t care. The image of Gabe’s smile flashed through her mind followed by the mocking words of “You can’t have him,” repeating over and over in a torturous montage. She sat down on one of the comfy chairs and said, “I have a problem. I have a crush on a boy which I can’t have because...”

Esteban sighed, “Fine, let’s get this over with.” He picked up a guitar that Abuelo had left in the library, and began to tune it. “I know these feelings may seem strange to you. You think boys are gross and had cooties and you want to resist these feelings of affection toward them. You need to embrace them. Take Doña and I for example. Whenever..”

He strummed the guitar and began to sing, “I see her mouth start moving and God, I need a drink. And then, from out of nowhere, I look at her and think maybe she’s not the worst thing ever.

Worse than crabs. Worse than scurvy

Worse than lice or plague, But truth be told

You're growing on me just like mold.

And though, you're so annoying,

So. . .”

Isabel interrupted him when he took a breath to start the next verse, “I don’t think boys have cooties! I’m not five!”

“Then what’s your problem?” Esteban scowled.

“I was going to say,” Isabel replied tersely, “I have a crush on Gabe which I cannot have. It’s entirely illogical. He’s too old for me and I don’t know why I have a crush on him-”

Doña stopped her babbling with a firm hand over her mouth, “Love is strange and it doesn’t matter how logical it is.” 

“I wouldn’t say I’m in love.” Isabel said pulling her hand away.

“Well whatever feelings you have for Nunez, why are you trying to change them? It’s a natural part of life. Plus it feels wonderful. Yes, it’s an emotional whirlwind but you just have to go and enjoy them as they happen. Just be with Gabe if he makes you happy. Even if he annoys you because that is love.” Then she began to sing, “It blurts out things that make you wanna smack it's stupid face. And it's awkward and confusing. It annoys you half to death. Then it grins that stupid grin and you can't catch your breath.”

Esteban began the next verse and leaned over to look at Doña, ignoring Isabel completely, “Love is strange and sometimes sort of smug. And it's really really bossy. And it messes with your head till you're a hopeless basket-case.”

Doña tugged at his beard, “And it’s stubborn.”

“It’s insulting.” Esteban shot back.

“It’s obnoxious.” Doña retorted and it just made Isabel glad that whatever feelings she had towards Gabe, she wasn’t going to insult him all the time.

“It’s the worst. You keep pushing it away and you fall in head first. Love is strange and often-” They were about to continue when Isabel cut them off by snatching the guitar out of Esteban’s hands causing the couple to glare at her for ruining the moment.

“Fine! I see I can’t change my feelings. But I really wish I could. I want to date Gabe but he would never date me, he doesn’t feel that towards me.” Isabel sighed, feeling even more dejected than when she had been forgotten at the university.

“How do you know that? Maybe he does and you have missed the signs.” Esteban suggested, pulling Doña into his lap on the chair across from Isabel.

“What do you mean?” Isabel asked intrigued. Her heart leapt to her throat at the hint of some hope for her and Gabe.

“How do I explain this in a way for your analytical mind to comprehend.Oh!” An idea came to him, “You have to be like a cactus. Listen to his words and store them in your mind so you can take apart the subtext. Little kernels of subtext can go a long way.”

At first the sentence did not compute to Isabel. She had thought maybe he was making random tactics up so she would leave him alone but as she turned it over in her head it made sense.

He gives me love kernels!

Each little crumb a little tasty clue!

Love kernels!

Cause if you read between the lines

He’s saying "I love you"!

Isabel jumped up and did a little excited twirl. Thinking of all the situations she had been in with Gabe, the answer seemed so clear. He liked her back! The subtext said so.

Gabe putting her on his shoulders during olaball showed that she was the top of his world.

Gabe showing her how to make icing flowers was a sign of him wanting to spend time with her. Well her, Mateo, Naomi and Elena, but mainly her!

Him rescuing her today showed how he valued her safety above all else.

He loved her!

“Love kernels!

Save those kernels up to make a bowl of popcorn!

Love kernels!

A handful is the proper serving anyway.”

She turned to Esteban, and cried “Thank you so much, Cousin!”

Her thanks startled the adults who had been preoccupied with not keeping their hands off each other. They were about to resume when Isabel kept poking him until they promised to listen to her list the evidence.

I know when he says:

"I want to go back to Ophidan Island sometime."

It means he’s thinking 'bout the future with me!

She made a brief squeal before she went on,

“I know a visit to my school means I was in his thoughts during guard duty!

She hugged herself thinking back on Gabe’s daring rescue.

And I know he cares when he says “I'm going to go over battle plans, Rico’s sick wanna help?

It means I'm the most important person in his life...next to Rico!”

That was less romantic but she explained how it was, “He trusts Rico with his life in battle so that's saying a lot...”

She looked back to the seat which was suddenly empty and a flash of red silk leave the door of the library.

“Hey, rude!”

But her anger was brief for the warm fluttery feeling that was rising and throbbing inside of her seemed to double when she pictured Gabe’s face. He had been secretly showing his love for her this whole time. How could she have been so blind?!”

“I'd do anything for those love droplets!

Like a hamster in a cage! Slurp, slurp!

Love droplets!

Each a letter on a page in the novel of our love!

Love droplets!

Falling down from the sky...and when I mix it in

with the tears I cry it makes a full glass of water!

God, I'm thirsty after all that popcorn!”

Feeling more encouraged about the affection between her and Gabe,she ran out the library doors and went to her room to find one of her fancy ball-gown dresses. She wanted to look good when she went confess her mutual love for him.

“I'll be patient until the droplets become a river that needs a dam!

I'll be patient until the kernels rain down like candy

Whatever you got I'll take it baby.”

She continued singing loudly down the hallway, not caring who heard her.

"What are you up to today?"

I'll take it.

"The palace smells like lemon."

I'll take it.

"Where's my sword?"

It's a stretch but I'll take that too.”

She bumped into Naomi and Olivia who were running in the opposite direction, chasing a butterfly holding a honeysuckle.

“Don’t hurt it!” Olivia cried as Naomi savagely grasped at the air for the butterfly.

“We need that honeysuckle!” 

Isabel shrugged at the two’s weird antics and continued out to the palace doors to the stables.

“I'll take all your love kernels!

Love kernels!

Love kernels!”

–––––----------------

“So we never see each other again?”

“Yes” Carla purred, rubbing herself tantalizing against Alonso’s chest, pushing him onto the bed, “One fantastic time of two strangers with their bodies rocking the bed until it breaks; undeniable heat between them and thrill in their hearts. And then we go our separate ways.”

Alonso gulped. It was clear that he was conflicted with waiting for Naomi or just going for her so Carla jumped on top of him. She kissed him, tongue pressing against his lips but when he refused to open his mouth, she settled for nibbling on his bottom lip.

She didn’t think it was her best work, but Alonso melted under her gaze when she pulled back. His voice went husky with lust, “Let’s do this.”

Then instead of throwing her on the bed to ravish her until she forgot her name. He began to sing. “Steppin’ in the club

All those eyes on me

But there’s only one pair that I see

She’s got a tight ass bod,

Big violet eyes

Come on, cutie get between my thighs

‘Cause I...

I don’t even know your name

Why...

Don’t we just call each other baby

It’ll be simpler.”

“Uh yeah that’s great.” Carla muttered, pulling out his shirt.

He winked at her, “You’re impatient. I like that.”

Yet despite admiring her urgency, he still continued to sing. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was staring past her as if to an imaginary audience and enjoying every minute of it.

“Hey sexy stranger, come back to my place,

And I hope you’re not a murderer!

Kiss me, baby, all over the place,

And please don’t be a murderer!

Please don’t be a murderer!

Pl-Pl-Please don’t be a murderer!” 

“What?” Carla interrupted, her heart skipping a beat at how those lyrics hit close to home. Did he know? Did Elena warn him about her family?

“Sorry...oh yeah. My dad is always going on about not dating fans in case they may be crazy. It kinda popped into my head right now and-“

Carla didn’t bother to let him finish. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into another kiss.

Which was horrible.

He barely opened his mouth so when she did try to slip her tongue he almost bit it! His lips were dry and he kissed with such force it felt like he was trying to smother her. Their noses kept bumping together and Carla couldn’t help but smell the yeasty bread odor of his breath.

Forcing herself to choke back the instinctive reflex to make a face, she tried to move the kissing to other physical opportunities yet Alonso got distracted by catching his reflection in the window. Well at least he stopped singing, Carla wryly mused to herself.

Taking that as a cue to switch tactics, Carla gently but firmly pushed him away. That got Alonso’s attention as he tore his gaze away from his image. Before he could even open his mouth, Carla shook her head with a small smile to show that she was teasing him.

Trying to copy the sultry whisper she had often heard her mom use, Carla turned her back on him, pretending to look at her nails. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. After all, you hardly know me. Having sex with a stranger. So many would consider it forbidden. Taboo.”

Carla sneaked a glance at the reflective window and could see Alonso’s peaked interest. Classic. Tell a guy something is forbidden and that’s all he craves.

Alonso’s eyes gained a hungry glint that made Carla’s stomach go aflutter. This was the look she craved. To have a man’s complete focus on her, using all his energy and muscles as he ravished her. Her, as the only one he could ever desire.

Continuing her sultry whisper, Carla casually draped herself onto the bed and pulled down her sleeves, “We should definitely not have sex right now,

We should definitely not have sex right now

It would complicate the situation.”

Alonso leaped onto the bed, spooning against her side while his hand unceramoniously bunched up her skirt to roughly grab clumsily her thighs. Winking he continued her song, “It's the adult thing to not have sex right now. We have the common sense not to have sex right now.”

Carla lost the urge to continue teasing and singing to him as he unskillfully groped her. He had no focus as his hands stroked her stomach for one second before moving to grope at her butt for two squeezes and then running his hands through her hair. It was like he was trying to touch all of her at once which only made her feel like he wasn’t touching her at all. Unfortunately, with her sudden silence, Alonso took that as a chance to resume his lackluster kissing again. She hoped his other skills would be better than this. She really really hoped so because with the sensation of Alonso’s awful kisses, Gabe returned to her mind.

When she had kissed Gabe, Gabe knew how to kiss back. The way his tongue fought hers made her wanted to melt. He was someone who was strong and someone who wouldn’t let something go unfinished. If he showed that same motivation in bed...shivers ran up her spine to think of it.

“Yeah baby..” Alonso muttered as he finally slipped off her dress barely getting it past her knees before turning his task to sucking her breast.

Oh right, she was with Alonso. She would have to be careful about what was coming out of her mouth, she bet he wouldn’t like it much if she ended up saying the wrong name.

The rest of the activity was pleasant enough. She thought he enjoyed it. He moaned a lot and his eyes rolled back in his head which she thought was a good sign. There was some pain for her as they bonded together and that in Alonso’s eagerness to get closer, he bumped her head against the headboard.

But there had been pleasurable moments for her too. She had to give him credit for knowing what he was doing in the chest area. Although it was primarily when she closed her eyes and pictured that it was Gabe leaning over her in all his fighting glory that she could get into the mood. The one moment when Alonso had gently nibbled at her nipple and she pictured Gabe doing it, she was surprised to find out that her mother was right. Certain body parts could get melty and she was even more surprised at the uncontrollably loud moans she was capable of emitting.

Of course, just as she realized that in order to get the most ecstasy out of this- that she had to close her eyes the whole time and only imagine Gabe growling in utter hunger for her body- it was over.

Alonso rolled over to lay next to her, and gave a dazed smile to her, “Was that as good for you as it was for me.”

“Great,” Carla managed a fake titter which seemed to satisfy Alonso enough that he closed his eyes. He sighed with contentment, “That was the world’s best kiss.”

Carla winced. He thought they had the world’s best kiss? Whoever kissed him must have really been blinded by his prince status.

As Alonso started to snore next to her, she sang softly to herself and began to redress herself.  

“It was the world's “best” kiss

Save for the awkwardness

And how we fit...which I admit...felt sort of weird to me.

And in my dreams I bet I can taste it

Slightly yeasty

Oddly musty.”

She grabbed her tamborita, half hidden under the bed and brushed some lint off it.

She got her wish. She screwed over Naomi and got to be with Prince Alonso.

Unfortunately she still had Gabe in her head and her heart still fluttered at the thought of being in bed with him instead.

There was no denying it.

She had drunk the love potion and even though the tug of her heart hurt a lot, the giddy feeling she got whenever she thought of Gabe felt nice too. If she had an antidote she wasn’t sure if she would take it.

She liked having this crush feeling. She never felt that way about a person before. Usually she just felt disdain or envy for others.

Or in this case, a wish never to kiss that person again.

She really needed to get back home and talk with her mom about this. She needed someone with a rational perspective. “It was an awful kiss

Kind of a total miss

Clumsy and forced

Way too much teeth

Messy and wet.”

She went to the door, softly singing her song to a sleeping Alonso, “Far from the world's best kiss

Still I can tell you this:

It was a kiss I won't forget.”

She blew him a kiss and closed the door behind her.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “The Matchmaker” Part 2

If there’s something Bane loves on this earth more than mayhem, it would be his younger sister: you’ve been away for six years and finally returned to Gotham a few weeks ago. So many rumors about you out there and The Joker is about to find out if they’re true: he never met Y/N and he’ll finally have the pleasure at today’s meeting.

Part 1

“Take a left here,” you tell The Joker and he turns, slowing down on the unpaved road leading to the safe house where Bane awaits with his crew and Mia. You keep on biting your nails, happy and anxious to see your little girl after six long months of thinking she might be dead.

It’s a three day drive to Los Angeles, but your brother traveled back towards Gotham, this way you can meet faster. When you didn’t answer the phone, Bane called the men appointed to guard the mansion in his absence and found out you left with The King of Gotham. J was immediately contacted and offered to accompany his matchmaker when the news about your daughter and ex was brought to your knowledge.

“I wonder if she looks the same…” you whisper, gazing ahead without seeing too much.

The Joker doesn’t reply, realizing you’re talking to yourself.

“Look, the trucks!” you point towards the convoy parked alongside the path leading to the cabin hidden inside Arden Forest. They are all marked with “Vanport Transportation” logo, a ghost company your brother uses when he needs to safely move around the country.

“Are we getting closer?” J asks, noticing a bunch of armed henchmen clearing the path when they realize it’s Y/N he has in the passenger’s seat.

“Yes, we’re very close; just a couple of miles to go,” you reply, getting more and more impatient.

After a few minutes, you see the cabin emerging from behind the trees and open the door, wanting to get out even if the car is still moving.

“Just wait,” J tries to stop you but your right foot is already out and he has no other choice but to halt.

You jump out of the SUV and run towards the cabin, not feeling the pain from the stilettos you’re wearing. Bane comes out to meet you, struggling to breathe since he has no mask on.

“Is she inside?” the worried mother inquires.

“She is,” your sibling affirms and you know him so well words are not necessary.

“How bad?...” you ask, not really wishing to hear what he has to say. Bane sighs, trying not to upset his younger sister more than she can handle.

“She has bruises…some older, some new; a black eye that’s almost healed, skinnier than she was last time we saw her. She was very hungry and we fed her. Anna gave her a much needed bath and clean clothes; Mia was scared, that’s why I took my mask off, so she can see a familiar face.”

“Did she recognize you?” you wipe your teary eyes, hoping for a positive reply.

“She remembered me,” he confirms and wants to reassure Y/N that everything is under control:

“We got her back, ok? My niece was abused and neglected, but she’s safe now. Richard carefully examined her, confirming that she’s alright.”

Bane coughs, wheezing louder and louder: he really needs the mask back on.

“Where’s your mask?” you caress his cheek, knowing how hard it is for him without the device that filters the air before getting to his lungs.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I can make it a bit longer.”

Your eyes search around for The Joker and you notice he’s sitting on the hood of a blue Toyota, tired and cranky after driving for so many hours. A few of your brother’s men approached, probably to offer The Clown Prince of Crime coffee and whatever else he might need.

“I want to see him,” you lift your chin up, deciding to face your ex before reuniting with your daughter.

“This way,” Bane leads the way towards one of the trucks that’s perfectly sealed, not that the prisoner has any chances of escaping anyway. Your brother enters the code on the pin-pad and the door opens with a hissing sound.

Bane lifts you up in the truck, deciding to remain outside.

Your high heels click on the metal floor, the sound making Jax come back to his senses; he’s tight up on a chair, without shoes and shirt, biting on his mouth gag while defiantly staring you down. Bane wanted to kill him and barely contained himself from committing another murder, knowing how much his sister would love to confront the asshole herself.

“Why did you take my baby?” you stop in front of Jax, nothing else on your face besides disgust and hate.

He mutters something you can’t decipher, which prompts a revolted mother to continue:

“Why did you hurt her? Do you think anybody cares you don’t want to be a father?”

You bend over in order to be on the same eye level with him.

“Who the hell asked you for anything?” you pant, more and more enraged. “Why did you take Mia away from me? To punish her for being born?! How is that her fault, you son of a bitch?” and your voice dies out in a whisper: “She’s just an innocent little girl. “

More mumbling and you forcefully grab his face, digging your nails in his skin.

“I have questions, but I am not interested in your answers. Do you get it?”

He would probably like to say so many things, but that privilege is long gone.

“My brother can’t understand why I’m always torturing myself with these stilettos. The answer is because I hoped I will really get the chance to do THIS!!!” you shout and step on his left foot, the sharp high heel cutting through flesh, prompting him to wiggle and scream in pain. His mouth gag prevents the noise to resonate outside the temporary prison, the ruckus contained by the sound proof walls.

“Does it hurt?” you slap him as hard as you can, balancing your weight to inflict even more damage on the wound that’s getting deeper and deeper. “You hurt my helpless baby more.”

His hands are tight up in his lap and elbows confined to the back of the chair with thick rope, making it impossible for Jax to move. His thumbs are brutally bent backwards by the enraged Y/N until the snapping of broken bones is heard. He squirms and cusses in agony, saliva dripping down his chin: your ex-boyfriend resembles a rabid dog trapped inside a cage he can’t break.

“Does it hurt?” you hiss in his ear. “Not nearly what you deserve, I assure you.”

You pull out the bloody heel out of his foot, carefully considering your next action. His eyes follow you as you stomp towards Bane, signaling for his knife.

“And yet…you’re lucky you’re my daughter’s father,” you quickly return to his side, cutting the restrains around his ankles and elbows with the blade. “You have 40 seconds to get out of my sight.” Your face gets close to his and Jax squints his eyes, thinking you will slap him again. Instead, all he feels is your lips on his forehead as you encourage him to move:

“Run honey,” you calmly enunciate and he hesitantly gets up, limping until he jumps out of the truck, losing equilibrium and almost falling on his knees. Your brother makes way for Jax and so do the other henchmen on campus because they know there’s something going on and they shouldn’t interfere until further orders.

The Joker is still sitting on the hood on the blue Toyota, sipping on coffee.

Is that him? J wonders when he sees a man jumping from the truck you entered earlier, struggling to walk as fast as he can but he keeps on stumbling and looking back, panicking when he realizes your brother is pointing a gun at him. The wind carries your voice far enough for The Joker to hear some kind of countdown you’re shouting while taking your sandals off:

“31, 32, 33, 34, 35…”

The gun shot echoes in the stillness and the man collapses to the ground, certainly a goner since the bullet went through his brain in a split second.

“Clear up that mess!” Bane instructs his people, helping you down from the vehicle. The Joker watches you talk to your sibling for a few moments before sprinting towards the cabin, probably eager to finally meet your daughter.

*************

You tiptoe in the living room, calling out her name:

“Mia?...Mia?... It’s mommy, sweet pea. Mia?...”

You hear sniffling coming from behind the couch and she cautiously emerges from the hiding place, not sure on what to do.

“Mia, it’s mommy; come’ere sweet pea,” you carefully approach and her tiny feet thumping on the hard wood floor make your heart beat faster.

“Mooomyyyyy,” she whimpers and races in your opened arms, giggling when you lift her up and hug her tight, not believing you’re holding your baby again.

“Oh my God,” you cover her in kisses, upset to spot the bruises Bane was talking about. “I missed you so much,” and you continue to peck her face, especially the black eye that’s still healing. “Mommy missed you,” you repeat and want to check if Mia still knows the answer:

“Who’s mommy’s little angel, hm?” you ask, touching her nose with yours.

“Me,” the squeaky voice admits and Mia cups your face with her small fingers, enjoying her mother’s affection.

How can somebody hurt something so pure? The thought makes you cringe, yet you keep the wide smile on your lips, grateful your child is alive.

“That’s right, you are. Such a smart girl, you remembered,” you turn around and walk towards the exit, Mia cuddling to you even more. You lift her higher in your arms, not feeling the weight of the sweet burden you carry, not sensing the sharp stones under your bare feet once you’re outdoors again.

*************

“Let’s be quiet, ok?” you go on the other side of the king size bed where The Joker is already sleeping, helping your daughter get in the middle.

Bane has one of the trucks set up as a mobile bedroom he can use on long hauls, this way he can rest while on the move. You, Mia and J are using it while being taken back to Gotham, totally drained and running on fumes after being awake for countless hours.

You crawl under the covers, snuggling with her.

“Do you know your birthday was two days ago?” you gently caress Mia’s hair and she yawns, having no clue about it. “You’re four years old now, sweet pea.”

“Four?!” she shows you three fingers because that’s what she’s used to.

“One more,” you whisper, teaching her the correct way to display the number. “Mommy will but you lots of toys and cake to celebrate, anything you want, alright?”

“Toys?!” she gasps.

“Yes, so many, just for my little angel.”

She rubs her eyes, yawning again.

“Let’s go to sleep, sweet pea. Wake me up if you need to go potty or if you’re thirsty, yes?”

“U-hum,” she closes her eyes, listening to the song you’re humming.

J woke up a few times because Mia cried in her sleep and he heard you soothe your daughter throughout the night.

“Sssttttt, mommy’s here…don’t be scared, it’s just a bad dream…”

The tiny fists clenched to your t-shirt, then relaxed under your touch.

“My precious angel,” The Joker distinguished his matchmaker’s words before plunging back into nothingness.

**************

He opens one eye and closes it back when Mia sticks her tongue out, ignoring the attention she seeks. She keeps on staring at him, smitten by his physical appearance and slides on his side of the bed because shyness doesn’t run in your family, no matter the age.

“Wha’s your name, hm?” she softly yanks on his pillow.

“Jay,” he mumbles, hoping she’ll go back to sleep.

“Jake?” she squeaks, pocking his star tattoo.

“Jay,” he reinforces the moniker.

“Hmmmmm,” Mia makes that cute sound you love when she’s debates on things. “I got boo-boo,” her little finger with a barely-there cut almost reaches The Joker’s lips.

“She wants you to kiss it to make it better,” you stretch, woken up and amused at the silly conversation.

How is The King of Gotham supposed to know about that stuff?!

“Here, let mommy do it,” you pull her back in your arms, kissing each finger multiple times. “Better?” you kiss the tip of her nose.

She nods a yes, her attention turning towards the enchanted green haired companion.

“Jake, you want beckfast?” Mia rolls over near him again, her piercing green eyes meeting the icy blue gaze belonging to The Clown Prince of Crime.

“Breakfast sounds good, Pest,” he growls, displeased she’s not getting his name right.

“Nooooo, my name is Mia,” she corrects him and pouts; you burst up laughing because she doesn’t understand his sarcasm. “I’m four!” she adds, showing three fingers.

“One more, sweet pea,” you remind her and another tiny finger shoots straight up in the air to make up for the difference.

“Ugghh,” J covers his head with the blanket, not in the mood for anything. He’s not a morning person, that’s for sure. “How far are we from Gotham?”

“Only a couple of hours away. The convoy has been moving since yesterday so it’s not far. My brother is driving this truck, that’s why you can barely tell we’re in motion: he’s an excellent driver.”

“Wake me up when we get there,” it’s his way of letting the girls know he’s done with the discussion.

******************

After a week, The Joker stops by the mansion because you have some dating prospects for him but he isn’t aware of your plans yet. He would probably just say no if you text or call him about it so meeting face to face is better. Everyone’s in the kitchen since you are cooking dinner: Bane’s favorite - Calamari pasta in white wine sauce.

“What are you doing with all this crap?” J points out towards the various flower vases and expensive presents scattered all over the place sent over by your numerous admirers.

“I like the flowers so I keep them, but the gifts I don’t need: I usually donate everything,” you lift Mia up on a high chair between her uncle and The Joker.

“My sister is an excellent cook, a perfect mother and a saint,” your brother states with such conviction there is no room for any type of doubt. 

“Uncle Ben, I want water pwease,” Mia whines and The Joker snorts because it sounds funny.

Bane helps her drink from the sippy cup, fixing the bow in her ponytail also and wants to retaliate for J’s reaction when the charming Y/N avoids conflict at the last second.

“Say honey,” you cheerfully get The Joker’s attention and distract your brother from the rant he’s about to start, “you need a perfect girlfriend and I have two words for you: Poison Ivy. I can make a date happen tomorrow.”

“I don’t like her!!!” J frowns and the smile freezes on your lips.

“Why not?!” you sulk because she already texted she’s interested in him.

“She tried to kill me last year!” he snarls, adamant in not accepting your perfect match proposition.

Your cell vibrates while receiving a text message from Alaina, your back-up plan in case it doesn’t work with Ivy.

“Is he circumcised?”

Your eyes get big, not believing what you’re reading. You look at The Joker, then back at your phone, then at him again, undecided if you should laugh or get angry at the useless question.

“How the hell should I know? Why does it matter??? He’s a good catch,” you text back.

“I only date guys that are. Can you ask him?” the reply follows and you scoff, reckoning the two of them getting together will probably end up in a complete disaster if she blurs out something dumb he’s not gonna like.

“You’re stupid!!!!!” is the last sentence you type before blocking Alaina’s number.

Why is it so difficult to find him a woman?! Your matchmaking aptitudes are surely put to the test with this difficult project of yours.

“Dammit!” Bane checks his phone and jumps from his seat, annoyed with the message popping on the screen. “I gotta go!”

“Where are you going?” you shout, disappointed at the sudden emergency.

“The shipment in San Diego is compromised; I have to go and see if I can save whatever is left before FBI messes up the whole operation. I’ll return as soon as I can,” your brother grabs a huge backpack from the pantry. “You’re the boss, ok?” he leaves you in charge again even if it’s not your favorite job on the planet. Your brother winks at his niece and she drops from her chair, wanting to follow him but you signal her not to.

“Be careful!” you have time to say before he’s out of the house and you discern his deep voice barking instructions at his henchmen before the sound of engines takes over.

Mia goes in the living room, searching around for her doll and you chit chat with J since you can’t leave the kitchen yet.

“How often do you have to dye your hair, honey?” you check on the oven to make sure the garlic breadsticks are not burning.

“I don’t; it just grows like this after the Ace Chemicals incident.”

“Does it really?!” the surprised Y/N instinctively turns around to gaze at the neon green locks.

“Yeah.”

“You know what’s awesome? Since your genes were obviously modified, I think that if you decide you want children, there’s a very high possibility they’ll have green hair.”

“You think so sugar?” J suddenly gets interested in your idea because he never thought about that.

“Yes, I do. They would be so cute,” you snicker just thinking how adorable a green haired baby would be. “Do you have any plans tonight, honey?”

“Nope,” a bored Joker sighs.

I mean, he was kind of thinking about robbery, but then you invited him for dinner and that sort of ruined the mood for chaos.

“You can stay with us if you want to,” you offer since your daughter seems to like him and she needs to be distracted after her ordeal. “We have 7 spare bedrooms in here, you can use one. After we eat, we’ll watch cartoons until she falls asleep. Nothing fancy.”

“Might as well,” The Joker approves the suggestion, prying in your personal affairs a bit. ”How come you don’t have a date or anything? Pick one of the guys that keep on sending you gifts. You have plenty to choose from: seems half of Gotham’s male population is in love with Bane’s sister.”

“My affection is to be earned, not to be expected because I am being sent lavish presents. Do you know none of them bothered to actually come and ask me out in person?”

“That’s because you’re intimidating,” J huffs, teasing his matchmaker.

“No I’m not!” you defend yourself.

“You’re very beautiful and beauty is intimidating. As an extremely handsome person myself, trust me, I know.”

You want to continue the discussion but your daughter comes back in the kitchen with a framed photograph she found, impatient to show J.

“Jake, Jake! Look! I was in here,” she places her finger on the image depicting a very pregnant Y/N.

“Why does she keep on calling me Jake? How is that easier than Jay?!” he complains, addressing the delighted mother.

“She just turned four,” you give him the best explanation there is. “She’s gonna call you whatever is easier for her, just like she calls my brother Ben.”

“I was in here,” Mia jumps up and down, hyper her Jake is paying attention.

“Were you?” he lifts his non existing eyebrows.

“U-hum, in here,” she pokes at your tummy in the picture, happy to share on what you told her so many times. The frame slides off her grasp and smashes on the floor, shards broken at The Joker’s feet.

Your daughter jumps, scared about what she did.

“Are you ok? “ you come around the table to make sure she doesn’t step in the mess.

Mia looks absolutely terrified as you approach.

“What’s wrong, sweet pea?” the concerned mother rushes to hold her because she’s shaking like a leaf. Your daughter covers her face with her tiny arms, starting to cry.

“No mommy, no!”

Your heart sinks when you realize she’s afraid you’ll hit her just like her father did after she was kidnapped.

“Oh, my poor love bug,” you hug her tight, trying to calm a child tensely shivering in your embrace. “Mommy would never hurt you, don’t you know that? It’s totally fine, it was an accident. It’s ok, don’t be scared,” you kiss her temple while she’s sobbing on your shoulder, hugging you back.

The Joker is not crazy about the crying; it needs to stop.

“Give her here,” he pats the table in front of him and you’re hesitant to fulfill the request. “Come on, put her here,” he moves the empty plate to the side, making room for Mia.

She keeps on whimpering and you hold her hand, not guessing on what he wants to do.

“Why are you crying, hm?” he interrogates the little one. “ I break into banks all the time, do you see me crying about it?”

How can a four year old understand the subtle connection? Where is he going with this?!

She rubs her eyes, wanting to go back in your arms when J swiftly pushes the empty plate to the edge of the table until it falls to the ground, the exquisite porcelain shattered to pieces.

“See? I break things too. So? Why cry about it?”

Mia’s mouth opens in awe, sniffling and curiously glaring at the broken item.

“Here,” he pushes his empty cup of tea towards her, “you break this one.”

She looks at you for approval and you nod a yes before she does it. My God, that innocent smile flourishing on her face is worth the world to you!

“See? It’s fine. You can break things, nobody cares Pest,” The Joker concludes and you are so grateful for his unique approach that nothing else matters for the moment.

“My name is Mia,” she corrects him again and you snicker, carrying her in your arms towards the stove because food should be done by now.

***************

The Joker fell asleep on the couch in the living room, watching cartoons with you and Mia; something so monotonous was bound to do the trick. He has insomnia pretty often, but kids stuff on TV is the best sleeping aid he ever tried without even being aware.

Your daughter is napping in your arms, her legs in J’s lap. She kicks him from time to time, probably dreaming about her pink unicorn again.

“Brat…” he mumbles in his sleep, not moving though because you’re cuddled to him and it feels nice and warm. 

A very unconventional small gathering, also known as Jake, The Matchmaker and The Pest.

Also read: MASTERLIST

[seventyfiveapples]

Shaken

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bright / Nick Jakoby x OFC

Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven.

Story Summary: Nick receives an unexpected invitation from a charming middle school teacher with a mysterious past. 

Billie took a gulp of the stale diesel fuel the hospital was passing off as coffee and sat up straighter in the scratchy waiting room chair, attempting to will herself awake as she waited for any news about Lucy or Gilda.

For the last two days, Billie was either at work or at this hospital, waiting and drinking this shitty coffee.

Lucy was going to be okay, at least. The plaster had cracked into smaller pieces before hitting her, resulting in mostly surface injuries: a head wound that bled profusely but that was easily stitched, a concussion, a broken shin, and numerous cuts and bruises. Remarkably, she did not require surgery and would most likely be released in another day after a bit more observation. She was in and out of consciousness, but Billie was grateful she would pull through.

Gilda was another story. Her injuries were far more severe and she hadn’t yet opened her eyes since the earthquake. 

Billie had insisted on riding in the police car as Nick drove to the ER, applying pressure to Lucy’s wounds as they rode so that she wouldn’t bleed out on the way, and trying to keep both as still as possible.

At the ER, one of the intake nurses asked for Gilda’s next of kin... and Billie was gutted as to realize that Gilda didn’t have a single name to enter. She’d lied and given her own name, saying she was an aunt. No one questioned her.

Since then, she’d kind of thought of herself that way, and since Lucy was more or less stable at this point she was glued to Gilda’s bedside. Every few minutes she looked up to scan the child for a sign - any sign - of movement. Nothing so far. She sank back into her chair and resolved to wait as long as needed.

Her heart broke at the possibility of Gilda waking up in her hospital room completely alone. How could such a good-natured kid have no one to look out for her?

It broke her heart even more to think she might never wake up.

Like most orcs, family was everything for Billie. She grew up idolizing her two older brothers, hoping to become a Fogteeth member herself someday.

When she was Gilda’s age, Billie was a real tomboy and was often treated as “one of the guys,” or at least like one of the guys’ little brothers. They used her as a "lookout" for some of their small-scale robberies and she was ashamed to remember feeling proud about that. As a kid, she saw her brothers as The Good Guys, no matter what, and the rest of the world - humans, elves, etc. - were villains. She'd justified some of their criminal activities by the idea that anything that benefited orcs and hurt humans was somehow righting the injustices she saw around her.

As she go a bit older, she started to understand that the world didn't work in absolutes. The more she understood about the world outside of her neighborhood, the more all the stories she told herself grew cracks, and those cracks spiderwebbed out, connecting facts and shattering long-held assumptions. Maybe, she was forced to admit, maybe her brothers weren't The Good Guys.

The first time she wondered who, exactly, her brothers really were was the first time she saw them actually hurt someone, punching and kicking a shop owner they were robbing. He hadn't done anything to draw their attention, he just happened to run a convenience store. The second time, the time she really pulled back, was when her first girlfriend had been shot in the leg by a stray bullet. The third time was the final straw. She was serving as a lookout for another convenience store robbery, and a small human child - no older than 6 or 7 - came up to her and asked who the men were who were talking to her daddy. Billie knew the child couldn't hear the sick thuds of body blows that her orcish ears detected, and she just stared at the child, unable to speak.

She went home that night and cried harder than she'd ever cried in her life, feeling guilty, torn, and trapped in a life she was finally starting to understand and resent.

Oddly, it was through the encouragement of a human teacher in high school that Billie built up the courage to confront her brothers. Her teacher saw real promise  in Billie and encouraged her to apply for college, something no one else in her family had done. She passed along scholarship opportunities and articles about how to strengthen college applications. She asked her every week about her plans. Without that teacher, Billie didn't know if she could envision a different life than the one that was slowly taking hold of her.

Because of that teacher, Billie had made it her life's mission to be a positive influence on others, especially other orcs. She knew the impact that a teacher could have and teaching became her goal.

For their part, her brothers supported her in her decision not to follow in their footsteps, even though she never hid how she felt about their criminal activities. It was an uneasy version of "agreeing to disagree" that seemed to somehow work: Billie drew clear boundaries and her brothers respected them. The three of them had enough love and devotion to keep that commitment... at least, that’s what Billie hoped.

 Nick walked into the hospital after his shift with arms full: flowers for Lucy and Gilda and a cup of what he hoped was “some decent fucking coffee,” per Billie’s request.

He walked in Gilda’s room and held out the coffee to Billie.

“Sweet Jirak, thank you,” she told him, shaking her head to wake herself.

"You’re welcome. Any news?”

"Lucy's been awake, off and on all day. She'll be thrilled to see you. No change for Gilda."

"And you? Have you been here all-"

"I'm not leaving," she snapped. It sounded harsher than she meant it. Nick didn't take her response personally. He placed Gilda's flowers - a small pot of violets - on the windowsill.

"If you want," he said in a soft voice, "I can come in here after I visit with Lucy so you can take a break, get a bite to eat or something."

Billie nodded but said nothing. Nick patted her shoulder gently before leaving the room.

To his delight, Lucy was awake when he came in, and all smiles.

"Hey, cutie!" she greeted him. 

"Hey, yourself! These are for you," he said, placing a large flower arrangement on the counter facing her.

"They're beautiful! Come here and kiss me so I can thank you!" Nick happily obliged. "The doctors said I might get to go home tomorrow. Are you free? Maybe I could make you some dinner or something." He smiled as he relaxed into a chair by her bedside. Seeing her covered in bruises and cuts was torture, but he knew she wouldn't want his pity, so he tried not to stare.

"That would be nice. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know, like a building fell on me," she smirked. He reached out a hand for hers and slowly brought it to his mouth, kissing it. If he had sustained the kind of injuries she had, he'd already be back at work, thanks to orcs' healing abilities. Then again, if the debris had fallen on his head, as it appeared it would, he wouldn't be here at all. He couldn't believe she had risked her life for him.

"Well, do me a favor and try not to leap in front of any more falling debris."

She shrugged. "I can't make any promises. Hey, at least when I'm in here, there's people everywhere. I don't have to worry about Dave for a few days." She looked at him and tried to affect a casual tone as she asked, "Any news on that front, by the way? My car is back at the house - anyone get close to it?" They'd decided to leave the GPS tracker in place on her car now that they knew about it, in the hopes that they could use it against him at some point.

He just shook his head. All of their leads seemed to evaporate, and he felt like he was letting her down, time after time. 

Worrying about Dave was both terrifying and exhausting for them both. She thought of ways to change the subject. She started to wonder how Nick would react if she pulled him down into the hospital bed and started a vigorous make out session...

Some commotion from the hall stopped her from finding out.

“GUYS!” cried Billie from several doors down. “It’s Gilda- she’s awake. She’s awake!”

A day later, and Dave was ready to make his move. He’d already spent more time on this than he’d thought possible, and he was more than just angry, now. He wanted to be sure that bitch paid for it. He prepared two syringes full of sedatives, wrapped up a knife for good measure, and headed to the hospital in order to arrive before the orc cop’s shift ended.

He looked in a mirror: his disguise wasn’t perfect but it didn’t have to be. The plan was to be in the hospital for five minutes, tops.

This bullshit would end today.

Sunshine! 

It felt so good, Gilda thought, raising her face to the sky and breathing in deeply. She was outside for the first time in three days, and she was trying to enjoy every second. Ms. Billie would be here any moment and Gilda wanted to surprise her by casually sitting on the bench outside, although the nurse was anxious to get her back in.

”FIVE more minutes, please?” Gilda pleaded, then pulled an over-dramatic face. “I almost died.”

The nurse rolled his eyes but smiled and relented. Gilda smiled and got ready to relax on the bench again, when suddenly - BAM.

A man rushing past had crashed right into Gilda, knocking her on the ground. He was tall, with a lean frame, and he didn't even pause to apologize as he rushed in. He was dressed in scrubs, but they didn't smell like they'd been inside this hospital before, ever. In fact, the smell lingering after him was altogether... peculiar to Gilda.

“Hey asshole, watch where you’re going!” Called the nurse, helping Gilda up. Gilda wasn't hurt but she felt unsettled. The man radiated hostility and anger. He wanted to hurt someone, she thought, but she didn't know why. 

Sniffing her arm where he had bumped right into her, she sensed an odd combination of smells. First, the ocean. She could smell seaweed and the kinds of fish that swam close to the shores. Next were the smells of fuel and creosote: odd chemical smells orcs could spot a mile away. Hovering just behind those, however, was something else that seemed completely out of place. Maybe she was mistaken? The last smell was something... sweet. Cookies? Pies? 

She forgot about it as the nurse helped her back inside to her room.

"What do you fucking mean, someone knocked her over?!" Gilda heard Billie shout on the other side of the door. She'd been out there for a while, at first talking to Gilda's social worker, and now yelling at the hospital staff. "Aren't you guys supposed to help her get better, not get her more fucking injured? You know that girl's a goddamn hero, right?!"

Gilda's heart swelled as Billie yelled. She was almost able to stop wondering what Billie and the social worker had been talking about. The dormitories at Saint Emydius were nice, and there were a few other students who stayed there, but she loved being in this hospital. There were so many people around all the time, and they all seemed to care about her.

Especially Ms. Billie. She was funny and even though she cussed a lot, and brought her homework - seriously, homework in the hospital, Ms. Billie? - Gilda knew she really cared about her. She tried to remember if this was what it was like living with her orc family...

After a few minutes, Billie came in. She walked right up to the bed with an excited expression that made her face look like it was lit from behind. She tried to talk in a serious was. 

"Gilda, the doctors say you are almost ready to leave the hospital. What do you think about that?"

Gilda's heart fell. She knew Billie was expecting her to be happy about this, and forced a smile.

"Oh... good news!"

"Well, the bad news is... the dormitories at school took some damage from the quake, and it will take at least a month to fix. I talked to your social worker, and she says - if it's all right with you, and if I pass a home inspection - and of course if you want to, you could come and stay with me and Miss Harris for a while." Billie looked nervous as she spoke.

Gilda had never seen Billie nervous before, she thought she was pretty much fearless. It touched her to realize how much she was hoping for Gilda to say yes. "What do you think?"

Gilda's eyes filled with tears and she couldn't speak. This was the best news she could have imagined. She sat up straight and pulled Billie into a tight hug.

"Yes! Yes! I want to stay with you, Ms. Billie!" 

Only a quick moment later, Billie burst into Lucy's room, beaming, and ran right up to her bedside. She was so excited that she didn't even notice the stricken look on Lucy's face.

"Lucy, honey, guess what? Gilda's going to stay with us for a couple of weeks!"

Lucy opened and closed her mouth, seemingly in shock.

"I know, I know. I should have talked to you about it first. Aw crap, is this a problem? What are you-" Suddenly, her heightened orcish senses realized that something was very wrong in this room, and it had nothing to do with her news.

She realized Lucy was trying to draw her attention to someone or something behind her.

Billie tried to turn around slowly, casually, but this small movement was all it took for the strange man in scrubs to leap towards her and plunge a syringe into her neck. Lucy tried to scream as her friend slumped to the ground but Dave’s hand was already covering her mouth. He had another syringe in his hand, pointed towards her.

"Miss me, Jennie? Or should I call you Lucy now?" Before she could respond, Dave plunged the syringe in her neck and deposited her unconscious body into a hospital wheelchair. He tucked the orc's body behind the hospital bed and pulled the door mostly shut, then, as casually as possible, he wheeled Lucy down to the elevator and piled her in his car.

Nick had requested to leave a little early that afternoon, and he headed to the hospital. Lucy was getting discharged that day. He wanted to drive her home himself, and spend a little time together. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, with no sign of cloud or - he sniffed the air - earthquakes. He strolled onto the hall where Lucy's room was and noticed that her door was shut. He rapped a few times and waited for a response.

"Hmmm..." came a sound from the room. The voice sounded female, but it didn't sound like Lucy. His brow furrowed as it became more clear. "Heh- help. HELP!"

Nick flung the door open and saw Billie's hand waving from behind Lucy's hospital bed as she struggled to stand. "HELP! SOMEBODY!"

Lucy's bed was empty.

@beastlybfs @bonnietakesnosh-t @cinnamonroll-issues @abigfanofyours @fantasticauthoroafzonk

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

Hi honey!! I love your blog soooo much!! I was just wondering if you could do something based on this: Lukes girlfriend works with the BAU and she was once kidnapped and held for months but nobody in the team knows. They only found out when a case comes up with the same man who captured Lukes girlfriend. And the team find out what happened to her?? Sorry if this makes no sense😂 I love you!! 💗

Unknown Subject

Fandom: Criminal MindsPairing: Luke Alvez x ReaderPrompt: Request

Description: A case that arrives on the BAU’s table is a little too familiar for your liking. With it comes revelations regarding an traumatic incident you had hoped to forget.

Awwh thank you so much sweetie! I hope you enjoy this one! I changed it up a little, just to make it flow easier (instead of being held captive for months, it was just a few days)!

It was a perfectly ordinary day at the BAU as the team gathered around the roundtable, eager to solve another case that had been referred to them. There was no warning at all to prepare you for the horror that lay ahead.

In fact, your day had gotten off to a pleasant start. A peaceful sleep and waking up to your boyfriend blazing a searing trail of kisses down your body had ensured that you had been in an exceedingly good mood as you strolled into the office with one another.

You hadn’t missed the knowing grins your colleagues had flashed your way, well-aware that the two of you had made excellent use of the late start to the day.

At work, you and Luke were true professionals. It was important to you both that your relationship didn’t interfere with your jobs. However, your fellow profilers could easily deduce that the two of you cared for one another. All it took was one glance at how you looked at each other to realise that you were in love.

Unfortunately, your blissful morning came to a swift end as Garcia ushered you all into the meeting room – fretting over the details of a disturbing case that had just been sent in.

You smiled softly as Luke brown eyes met your gaze, his lips curving into a wide grin as he noticed your slightly ruffled hair curtsey of his earlier attentions. He was clearly still proud of his achievements, pleased to give his girlfriend the ‘best wakeup call’ of her life. A blush crept onto your cheeks as he played winked at you.    

Thankfully, Garcia’s voice provided a reprieve from his teasing.

“This one is particularly ghastly, so buckle up crimefighters.” She announced, gesturing to the screen as she grimaced in horror at the information glaring back at her.

“The body of a woman was discovered in Baltimore last night. She had been tortured and killed.”

The team began to ask questions, trying to determine cause of death and all the other essential pieces of information. However, everything seemed to fade away as you glanced down at your tablet. The entire room shifted out of focus and all you could hear was your heavy breathing as you stared at the screen in shock.  

It was too familiar.

Your heart thudded sickeningly against your chest as you noticed the similarity in appearance of the painful cuts on the victim’s body to the ones you had carefully concealed from sight of your colleagues for the past few years. They were the same.

“The local police think she was held captive for a long time prior to her death, judging off the extent of her injuries.” Garcia told them sadly, averting her gaze from the gruesome pictures in a show of respect.

“The kidnapping and torture suggests that we’re looking at a sadist.” Tara muttered in disgust.

Suddenly, it felt difficult to breathe. The room appeared to be getting smaller as the overwhelming emotions came flooding back. It felt as if you were trapped back in the darkened room, the knife pricking against your skin.

You had to get out.

“Y/N?”

Prentiss’ firm voice pulled you from your nightmare, her eyebrows raising in surprise at your anguish. Some cases had the ability to get to all of them, but you were the last team member she thought would be deeply affected by this one. You had always been the best at compartmentalising…until now.

“Is everything okay?”

The pressure of their concerned gazes only added to your distress, your hand trembling in fear as you dropped your tablet to the table with a loud bang. Your vision began to blur as the tears stung your eyes.

Luke murmured softly beside you, but you couldn’t understand him. You were too paralysed to move.

A warm hand rested lightly on your back as he gently guided your head down, whispering soothing reassurances against your hair as you struggled to fight off the unbearable sense of panic surging through your body.

“Just breathe.”

It took a while, but his voice seemed to be able to reach you in the midst of the darkness. A raspy gasp escaping your throat as you choked on the tears streaming down your face.

“I know this unsub.”

Your stammered words were met with confusion from your colleagues as they exchanged bewildered glances with one another.

“You’ve worked a case like this before?” JJ asked quietly, her eyes full of sympathy as she tried to understand what was troubling you.

A strangled sob escaped your lips as you finally lifted your head to meet their concerned eyes.

“I was the case.”

There was a tense silence as your confession echoed around the room, everyone too stunned to respond.

“I don’t remember much. Everything’s still hazy.” You whispered, your fingers clutching onto the necklace around your neck. The one Luke had given you last month that had quickly became a source of comfort. “It happened years ago, I was leaving work late and then…”

Your eyes fluttered shut in an attempt to block out the disturbing memories. Even after all this time it pained you to think of that night. Perhaps part of the reason why you were so dedicated to your job was because you wanted to do everything you could to protect others from suffering the same fate.

“He kidnapped you?” Spencer asked quietly, his voice filled with hurt at the prospect of someone harming his friend. He too had been on the receiving end of an unsub’s brutal treatment, knowing that the same had happened to you was truly heartbreaking.

You nodded, the tears continuing to spill down your cheeks as you took a deep breath to compose yourself.

“All I remember is the pain.”

You gestured towards your torso, too nervous to shown them the damage that had been done. It felt as if the agonising wounds were burning at merely discussing the trauma.

“He used a knife to cut me…the same ones that our victim received. But, a lot less severe than hers.”

The rest of the team glanced at the screen displaying the horrific photographs, wincing as they thought about the pain you had gone through. You felt Luke tense beside you, his jaw clenching in anger at the revelation.

“Your scars…” He asked, his voice soundly oddly strained as his gaze fell to your shirt. Even your boyfriend had been unaware about the origin of the faded marks, accepting your vague explanation without hesitation as he tenderly traced the lines one night as you lay in bed together.

You squeezed his hand comfortingly, his warm brown eyes softening as he met your gaze. It killed him to think about anyone hurting you and he would willingly unleash his fury on the unsub one he got his hands on him. However, you needed him right now and he would be there for you.

He pressed a tender kiss to your palm as the rest of the team tried to come to terms with your confession.

“How did you get away?” Matt asked, his tone gentle as he gazed at you sympathetically.

Perhaps it was strange that none of them had ever discovered the trauma hidden in your past. You had always been the best at hiding your emotions, they wouldn’t have been able to read you as easily as others. Yet, your empathy and compassion towards victims now made sense to them all as they considered what you had been through.

“He let me go.” You told them quietly, frowning as you fixed your gaze of your hands. The worst thing about the entire thing had been the immense fear of being powerless at the hands of the unsub, knowing you could do nothing to stop him from imposing his will on you.

“He held me for a couple of days and then released me. I couldn’t see his face the entire time, the drugs kept me in and out of consciousness. They never caught him”

Although you had been lucky to escape with only scars, it had always haunted you that he had that control…and that he continued to have it even after your ordeal had ended. How many times had you been paralysed with fear to go to sleep in case you returned back to that hopeless room in your nightmares?

It had only been because of his choice that you had even survived. That was the thought that terrified you most.

“I was his test run. He was building his confidence.” You told them, your profiler instincts telling you that if he had chosen to kidnap you later on then you would have met the same fate as the victim displayed on the screen.

Luke’s hand squeezed yours tightly as if trying convey his promise to keep you safe. The only thing overshadowing the immense fury he felt was his concern for your wellbeing.

No wonder you had been nervous working on past cases involving kidnapping. All the times you had been extremely grateful for him accompanying you to your car after a late night at the BAU made his heart ache in hindsight.

If only he had known.

“That’s one hell of a cooling off period.” Rossi commented, his voice slightly pained as he tried to focus on the case at hand rather than the emotions he was feeling. You had always been close to him and finding out that you had been at the mercy of a sadistic killer made him upset.

You glanced up to see the shocked faces of your colleagues as they attempted to flash you smiles of encouragement. Silent tears were streaming down Garcia’s face as she stared at you in horror. It was never easy when it was one of their own.

Prentiss frowned heavily as she glanced down at the folder clutched tightly in her hands. You could sense her reluctance as she began to talk. “I don’t want to have to ask-”

You cut her off before she could even ask the question. “I’ll do it.”

Surprisingly, your voice was steady and firm as you gazed at her defiantly.

“I’ll give you everything I have.” You promised, already anticipating that the team needed every detail you could provide them with in order to catch this unsub. It didn’t matter if it was uncomfortable or painful, you had to do it for the others.

She nodded slowly, her eyes filled with admiration for your courage as she ordered Matt and Tara to conduct your cognitive interview.

Luke’s grip on your hand tightened as his eyes filled with concern. The last thing he wanted was for you to have to relive the most traumatic experience of your life. Not to mention that your involvement could potential put you in danger again.

“Are you sure Y/N?” He asked quietly, running his thumb gently across your knuckles as he met your gaze.

The determination in your eyes caused pride to surge in his chest. He had always respected your strength, but witnessing your bravery firsthand was something else entirely.

“If I can help catch him…I want in.” You replied, your voice completely calm as you squeezed his hand comfortingly.

It ended here.

[jakelace]

2017 IN FILM - PART 1 (84-71)

It’s the most wonderful time of the year again! No, not Christmas. It’s Awards Season, my friends. The time of year where we look back at the films that graced cinemas over the calendar year, and where, just like last year, I tell you all about every new movie I saw in that time. With the announcement of the Academy Awards nominees I’ve decided that we’ll begin our journey today with the worst of the worst that 2017 had to offer. Over the course of the year I saw 84 films. Some were good, some were bad, and still others had Emoji in the title, so without any further ado, my ranked list of every 2017 movie I’ve seen.

84. The Emoji Movie

“We’re number two! We’re number two!”

The Emoji Movie, despite being at the bottom of my rankings, is not the worst movie of 2017. That’s because this ninety minute misstep isn’t a film, it’s an advertisement. While it might seem silly to make such a distinction (there is a plot that actually makes a shred of sense, it’s at least feature length, etc.), it’s incredibly hard to get past just how often this advertisement detours from its central plot just to make a cheap and out of touch product placement for an outdated app like Candy Crush. The Emoji Movie’s greatest offense, however, is when it tries to capitalize on the inherent meme culture that surrounded itself from the pre-production stage by creating a new dance called ‘The Emoji Pop’, that I am absolutely certain they thought was going to catch on with the youth of the world. Sony Pictures Animation’s latest cash-grab is an unoriginal, unfunny, and morally questionable mess. At least the animation is decent?

83. Unforgettable

“There was a time when I thought we were on the road to getting back together...but then he met you.”

Here it is, my lowest rated film of 2017! While a lot of times a movie can be bad for being incoherent, unoriginal, or offensive, I often say that the worst sin a film can commit is being boring. Unforgettable commits that sin. While I can admire Rosario Dawson’s commitment to this truly awful retread of the “crazy ex-wife” trope that was popularized by every Lifetime movie ever, its Katherine Heigl’s performance that makes the film somewhat endurable. It’s over the top in all of the best “so bad it’s good” ways. After thirty minutes of being bored out of my mind I found the best way to get through this cinematic torture was to watch for the next hilariously overacted bit of poorly written dialogue that would come out of Heigl’s mouth. In the end though, you can’t blame her for trying to make the best out of such a predictable and horribly paced film. Unfortunately it would seem that Unforgettable is by far the most forgettable film of 2017.

82. Phoenix Forgotten

“I just want to apologize to Mike's mom, Josh's mom, and my mom. And I'm sorry to everyone.”

Do you remember Phoenix Forgotten? No? Neither do I...yes I know that’s two jokes about forgettable movies with some form of ‘forget’ in the title in a row, but I just couldn’t help myself. Just like the screenwriters for this film couldn’t help themselves from stealing every plot point in the movie from not only the 1999 horror classic The Blair Witch Project, but also taking several ideas from last year’s sequel; Blair Witch. It’s absolutely shameless how little originality can be found within the film’s eighty minute runtime. The film follows three college high-school students lost in the woods desert, searching for a witch aliens who terrorize a town, while footage from the present day follows the protagonist’s brother sister who is still haunted by the sudden disappearance of their sibling. All of this blatant plagiarism wouldn’t have even been so bad had the movie at least been decent, but who needs to make a good film when you can just ride on the coat tails of a horror film that is already beloved? No other release this year sparked such a passionately heated response from me which shocks myself the most considering I’m not even that big of a fan of The Blair Witch Project in the first place! Oh well...at least they don’t fight about a map in this one...or did they?

81. The Bye Bye Man

“Don’t think it! Don’t say it!”

If Phoenix Forgotten is horrible for being unoriginal, then The Bye Bye Man is horrible for being completely and laughably incompetent in every way. The entire film is based on the premise that if you say or think his name then he will come and...make you go bye-bye? The rules are completely unclear, and that’s a huge part of the problem. The threat of the Bye Bye Man (I seriously hate that name) is hindered by the fact that it’s impossible to understand what his powers are. Sometimes he can make our poorly acted main characters see things that aren’t really there. Sometimes he can possess them. Sometimes he can...make them impotent? Who encouraged the thought that that would be a good thing to include in their supernatural horror film? Like, I get it, erectile dysfunction is a serious and scary thing that affects more than three million American men every year, but it’s not really the kind of fear I’m looking for in a movie called The Bye Bye Man. I’d continue to discuss this one, but, I mean, it’s all in the name. Also in this scene from the movie. Enjoy.

80. Amityville: The Awakening

“God gave up on us, sweetheart...”

I had been watching the post-production and release of this film very closely for years before it was eventually released this past October. While that might not seem too out of the ordinary, you have to keep in mind that this was filmed in 2014. That is three years of reshoots and pushed back releases. However, when all seemed bleak and I thought I might never get the chance to watch what was sure to be a glorious train wreck, the film was released to own for free on the Google Play store. However, even with my rock bottom expectations, I was still disappointed by Amityville: The Awakening. While I was expecting something laughably bad, what I got was an end product that was more boring than anything else. And while I haven’t seen any of the other films in the Amityville franchise, I can’t help but feel contempt for its continued use of a real family’s suffering all in the name of making money. I guess it’s a good thing this one only made $742 dollars on its opening weekend then, yeah?

79. Wish Upon

“Hold up, you dig on multiverses?”

One shot. I liked one shot in this entire movie. Everything else is lazily written drivel. It’s not all that hard to get me on board for a movie with Final Destination style deaths. I love how silly and over-the-top those films are, and I’ve always thought that bringing that style of Rube Goldberg death traps into more films could provide for entertaining new ideas. This movie has none of that. Its biggest offenses, however, come when it also tries to tackle the well-worn “be careful what you wish for” message. Besides the weird moment where Joey King’s character wishes that her dad would become cooler which then in turn leads to her friend wanting to to sleep with him, the moral of the story is so trite at this point that even adding a horror element into the mix can’t save this from being nothing but bland. Looks like the director should have wished for a better movie.

78. Rings

“There's a mark on your hand. It says ‘rebirth’.”

If Rings was an attempt to bring the horror franchise into modern technology by presenting Samara’s video as a metaphorical computer virus, or even commenting on the state of internet content as a whole, then this movie completely fails on that front. Seriously, the only time this movie even brings that aspect into play is in the last two minutes of the film. No joke. Everything else up to that point is a senseless retread of the previous two American films in the franchise. On top of that, it is easy to tell that Rings fell victim to countless reshoots and rewrites. There is no finer example of that than the fact that this film has two cold opens. It’s almost as though they had the plane cold open (the one from all of the trailers) from a previous version of the movie and thought it was just so good that they couldn’t leave it on the cutting room floor. If it were up to me I would have left the entire film on the cutting room floor.

77. The Mummy

“Sometimes it does take a monster to fight a monster.”

How do you kill an entire cinematic universe in one fell swoop? Ask The Mummy. Sure, that might be a low blow, but The Mummy is one of the most sorry excuses for a blockbuster I’ve ever seen. When the entire conflict of your entire supernatural action flick can be boiled down to ‘who would Tom Cruise rather sleep with? A mummy or an alive woman’ you know you went wrong somewhere down the line. The worst part about this is that there are moments where you can see where they’re coming from and what they’re trying to accomplish, but they just can’t seem to make any logical sense of it. Scenes are often rushed or dragged on for far too long and it becomes clear that nobody involved had any grasp on how a film should be paced...or written...or acted...or made at all.

76. Rock Dog

“Dad, I’ve decided to become a musician.”

I barely remember this movie. There is a dog. He shoots lasers out of his hands (not kidding). He rocks I’m guessing. I know I watched this, but everything about it was so generic and well-worn that I felt like I had seen this before, just done a lot better. I had never seen laser dog hands before though. Sure the moral about following your dreams and standing up for what you believe in is good, but when it comes to children’s entertainment you can do so much better. Unless you want to see a dog shoot lasers out of his hands. This movie has got you covered on that.

75. Fist Fight

“Teachers can’t fight!”

I wanted to really enjoy Fist Fight. It’s filled to the brim with actors I find quite funny, like Charlie Day, Jillian Bell, and Kumail Nanjiani, but it’s hard for these comedic talents to find anything to work with when the plot for the film is so bare-bones. Outside of the original comedic value in thinking of teachers fist fighting in the schoolyard, it’s hard to find much else to do with that premise. Nothing speaks more to the failure of this film than the fact that I didn’t laugh even once. The story is dumb, the jokes are played out, and worst of all the director wastes some of the best comedic actors in the industry on a movie that barely even functions.

74. Split

“Someone's coming for you, and you're not gonna like it.”

Controversial Opinion Alert! When I first saw Split I felt like I was alone on my island of disapproval of this film. The world seemed to be completely sold on M. Night Shyamalan’s most recent directorial endeavor, but something just felt off to me about it. It took me a few months and discussions with my friend Aaron when he finally cracked the case wide open; while everyone was expecting the film to vilify individuals with mental illness, the exact opposite comes true in the final act. Split goes so far as to glorify mental illness and being ‘broken’ in a way that feels unbelievably gross to me. If you want to read more of my thoughts about the exposition-heavy writing side of the film you can do so here, but I can’t even begin to explain how horrible of a message this is, so let’s just move on, shall we?

73. Sandy Wexler

“You can’t stop a shooting star, scientists have proven this.”

If it weren’t for its ungodly long runtime and constant detours into meaningless garbage, Sandy Wexler might actually be alright. In fact, this film does something that an Adam Sandler film hasn’t done for a very long time: it made me laugh. Sure it was just once and every other attempt at humor is just as overdone and juvenile as anything else he’s made, but a small step in the right direction is still a step. Last year for my ‘year in review’ I covered another Adam Sandler flick called The Do-Over, and in that mini review I called Sandler’s recent string of films a downward spiral in quality and ability. Now, if that was true, then Sandy Wexler is the first step towards getting out of that creative hole he’s found himself in. What can I say? I’m an optimist.

72. Despicable Me 3

“You told me my father died of disappointment the day I was born!”

Despicable Three (yes I’m calling it that and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me) is the same brand of gutter trash we’ve come to expect from Illumination Studios. The story is nonsensical, the animation is sinfully simplistic, and the Minions...my god...the Minions. Once again, I have to ask how Illumination Studios have become so popular with American audiences? I truly do not understand. Every character, every plot line, every joke feels focus tested to death. There is no originality in any of these frames. The heart and soul of the original is gone and replaced with Minions merchandise. Every decision seems to be based around how merchandisable they can make every second of their sensory overloading piece of garbage they have the nerve to call a film. I hate Despicable Three and everything it stands for. That being said, I love hearing Trey Parker’s voice come out of a children’s cartoon. 

71. The Circle

“Knowing is good, but knowing everything is better.”

I love how much I hate The Circle. If you’re looking for a basic description of what this YA fiction masterpiece in preaching is all about, then imagine Black Mirror, but remove all of the subtlety and nuance about a world run by tech and replace it with a caveman grunting “technology bad.” There you have it, a screenplay worthy of Tom Hanks and Emma Watson’s time and talent. Just kidding. Why would they ever agree to this? Maybe they too hate the dangers of social media so much that they can look past all the good it can do. The worst part about it all though is that the film constantly insults the intelligence of its audience by claiming that there is no healthy middle ground to take between being completely obsessed with technology and living off the grid entirely. Which reminds me? Why are you reading this online? Go make weird deer antler ornaments or something you tech junkie.

That’s all for today, but join me tomorrow as I cover three bombastic blockbusters, two unsettlingly bad thrillers, and one movie about a baby that’s also a boss...no hints.

[gilbirda]

Human courting is confusing. Chapter 12

Yeah. I’m late. But this was a really difficult chapter. From here on the plot will go places I have been planning these days, so I hope I get the next chapters done faster.

And yes, this is 3k words long. I had lots of things to say.

My body needs rest. Forgive the mistakes you see here, I’m seeing double right now.

[FF.net][Ao3]

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Day 12: Make out.

The weight in his chest pulsed for a moment as his eyes rested on the turned face of Yako, who was laughing so hard at his expense that the urge to at least jab her on the ribs as a temporary punishment was overwhelming. She was vulnerable, easy to attack, easy to torment. Just a little kick and he could choke her with his legs against the ceiling, just a little push and she was out of the window, just one movement of his hand and her neck would crack beautifully in an inhuman way.

But, as he thought those possibilities, deep down the paint that guided him in this alien human courting process was urging him not to do that. Which was stronger, you say? His sadistic side, of course. It was absurd to presume the opposite.

"Ah…," sighed Yako out of breath, "I haven't laughed like that in ages!" She sighed again as she rolled until she faced Neuro, fixing her eyes on his face from her position, weirded out by the sudden thought of her being the one upside down.

Neuro was looking down to her, a neutral expression on his face, not telling her what could be passing through his mind in that kind of intimate moment between them. She was used to be alone with the demon in close quarter and usually this didn't bother her in the least as he had told her clearly his little interest in her flesh; but with those new thoughts dancing on her mind lately she couldn't stop the slight blush flooding her cheeks. Maybe everything was in her imagination, maybe Neuro is acting weird for any demon-related reason. Do demons have the awkward teenage phase? She remembers he said that he was quite young.

"Yako," he called her, and her heart jumped in her chest. His green eyes still didn't give her any information about what could be crossing his mind, but she assumed that she was bothering him by being on his legs.

"I know, I know. I'll let you alone," as she moved to stand up his gloved hand pushed her down against his legs. She yelped in surprise as his big hand pressed her face with a bit too much force, crushing her nose and blinding her for a moment.

"Do not dare to move, maggot. I think I found a good use for your insolence," she heard his voice and couldn't see him until he removed his hand, but it was too late to dodge his approaching lips to her person. Shocked, Yako found herself being kissed again by her demon. She hoped that Neuro wouldn't get used to this new form of torture, because she knew that out of all the repertoire he usually threw at her, this was the most hurtful one.

After discovering the effect he had on her heart, she knew she wasn't ready for it to be crushed. She was no fool, he growing crush on the blond sadistic demon was a fact she could not deny, but as soon as Yako registered her new feelings she fought to forget them. Anything with him could not be good. He was dangerous, evil, sadistic and selfish; and none of that was boyfriend material. In the rare case of involving herself romantically with Neuro, she could see a future of pain and one-sided affections. No hugs, no kisses, no loving touches.

A demon does not understand the mechanics of love.

"Hey! Stop!" the woman shouted, pushing him. Yako stood up and stepped back until she was touching the opposite wall to her bed, a hand on her attacked lips and a wary look on her eyes. He stood up slowly, smiling his up-to-no-good smile, reminding her of a big cat stalking its prey. "Why did you do that?"

"I told you not to move," he... purred? Yako was on the verge of a breakdown. This was not Neuro. This was not how she thought tonight was going to be. A stalking demon in a crappy anime kitty kigurumi looking at her like she was a delicious mystery? Nope. No way in Hell.

"I don't know what the heck are you trying to do, but please stop," the detective pressed herself harder against the wall, her heart going a mile an hour. He was at an arm's length now, the smile still in place.

"Now you give the orders?" Neuro circled a hand around her neck, forcing her to stay in her place and incapable of turning her head away from his. His warm breath and crazed emerald eyes frightened her, as it was usual, but this time he didn't look menacing at all; instead, it was like he was evaluating her reaction, waiting to see something. It reminded her of when he kissed her in front of the inn back at the tiny village with the tengu problem. "I think not."

She blushed. She didn't want to, but her heart was acting with a mind on its own. The air in the room was heavy and no sound could be heard apart from the rapid beating of her heart, her blood noisily flowing behind her ears, her head swirling with incoherent thoughts between fear and an unwanted arousal.

"Ah?" she could muster, his lips approaching hers again, this time she could do nothing to stop him before they touched.

Yako closed her eyes tightly, not wanting this to happen ever again. Please, stop, she cried inside trying not to feel good or anything like that. After all, this was Neuro playing with her body and her human emotions. He knew enough about humans to detect her body reactions to his touch, but he couldn't act as if he cared like he was another human man. He wasn't normal, he wasn't suitable to be a boyfriend, he wasn't for her.

Suddenly, it happened. She felt something wet and raspy touch her lower lip, and she presumed it was his tongue. Oh God. She felt like she was going to faint, part from the lack of air and part from the weird things she was feeling in the pit of her stomach, her legs trembling under her and no longer supporting her weight. Yako opened her eyes and clawed at the hand on her neck, which was really choking her now.

Neuro withdrew a little, just enough space to let her breathe, and watched her take a few greedy gulps of air with inquisitive eyes. What was she thinking? Did she like it? Was he properly kissing her? Was his slave going to "fall in love" with him anytime soon? He wanted to confess his intentions, that's what the tutorial advised at this point in the courting. It's supposed to help the woman realise her feelings or something like that. And that's why he used the piece of information that Yako provided him not long ago: "And it's not about claiming, is more like showing your partner that you care and love them". The need to keep her alive and protected by his side counted as "care", right?

"Neuro," she managed to say after a minute, her eyes cast downwards as she tried to calm herself. He still had her trapped against the wall with his hand, he could not afford to let her scape now that the perfect opportunity presented itself. "Why the hell did you kiss me?" the blonde asked lifting her head to face him.

And he was going to smile and say a smart remark, something about doing whatever he wanted to his favorite slave, but the words caught up in his throat when he saw the fire in the teary eyes of his human. She looked furious, scared and tired. This was not expected at all. This wasn't on the tutorial. Neuro felt at loss of things to say, his mouth closed tight as he was looking for things to say. He considered lying, leaving this as it was and try another day; but the angry blazes in her brown eyes told him that she would see right through it and probably there wasn't going to be a "next time".

"And well?" she arched an eyebrow waiting for any smart and logical explanation other that "I felt like it". Neuro looked confused and at loss, reminding her of that fateful day when he returned to Hell, three years ago. But right now she was too angry to care about her little victory in being the only human who could put that face on him. "Are you going to-"

"I need you," he interrupted her, the same shocked face, his gloved hand slowly retreating from her person. But she couldn't move, not yet. Did she heard wrong?

"What?"

"I need you, Yako," Neuro blinked and looked at her with a slightly confused expression, like he was also weirded out by his words. "I want you."

A tense moment passed between them, the chilly air coming from the window cooling down the previously heated room, as they looked at each other in shock. Wow, Yako thought, just wow. What is going on here?

"Can you repea-"

"I won't repeat myself, maggot," he said going back to his usual bossy self, but Yako could see the glint of doubt on his green eyes. Another moment of tense silence passed.

"Is that true?" she asked softly, trying hard to believe it. It could mean a lot of things, he could be doing a big practical joke, he could be using her to experience a 'human thing' just to be faster in solving puzzles, he could be laughing at her for being weak.

"I do not lie about this kind of things," Neuro stepped back a little, watching her with a frown on his face.

"Then… do you love me? At all?" she found the courage to ask the needed question. "Wanting" or "needing" wasn't the same as "loving", and she needed to know the truth. And by the way he tilted his head with a faraway look on, she expected the answer.

"I'm not capable of 'love', Yako," she closed her eyes already feeling her heart break, "but lately I have been having trouble controlling myself. I need you by my side more than before and I get this annoying pressure in my body if I don't know if you are well or your irritating usual self."

Yako took a deep breath. This was… something unexpected. She could work with that. It wasn't love, he wasn't lying, but at least the detective was sure he was saying the truth about those 'new' feelings.

"And…?" she encouraged the demon with a soft voice, taking a step towards him. She wasn't as angry anymore, just a little annoyed by being forced to kiss him, and know she could see the awkward young demon who didn't know what to do with his own body.

"And," he glared at her, but Yako couldn't take him seriously with the kigurumi on, "I want you to love me."

"You want what?" alright, this was more than unexpected. He kept glaring, clearly irritated to be questioned like this. She didn't care, she wanted answers. "Ok, ok, you don't repeat yourself." Yako raised her hands in defeat. She couldn't be angry anymore.

She sighed and weighed the situation. Neuro awkwardly confessed, or something like that, and tried to french kiss her. In a kigurumi. While choking her. She was sure that tomorrow this would earn a laugh or two, but right now it was like being in a weird nightmarish dream.

As she stood in front of the much taller demon, the young woman looked up to his face searching for answers. Maybe… maybe she wasn't so hopeless after all. Could he love her? The answer was no, but… She could be cherished, wanted, respected. Neuro saw a worthy partner in her and despite the constant abuse and trash talking. And he could understand her in a way that no other man on this Earth could. She has evolved into a quick thinking person, a bright detective, and no many men were interested in a glutton detective woman.

To Neuro that wasn't important. He saw in her things that humans couldn't see, a new perspective, as clear as she could see the real demon underneath the bossy and sadistic behavior. Maybe…

"What is taking you so long, dishrag? Just say whatever you are going to say," he took her head and got closer to her face with a scowl, getting impatient.

"Yeah," she said smiling a little. The Brain Eater arched and eyebrow and squeezed harder his grab on her, demanding a more elaborate answer. "I say yeah, I like you too, Neuro. But!" she raised a finger, silencing whatever he was going to say with the digit. For a brief second she thought he was going to bite it off by the intense glare he gave her. "Tomorrow we are going to talk about this in detail. I don't think you are very clear in how 'human courting' works and I'm sure that there are a few things you should tell me about demon ways. I don't want to wake up one day and find myself in trouble because you 'forgot' to tell me something important," by the toothy smile she was sure it was right on point. Oh boy, he was going to be the end of her.

"I expected nothing else, detective," Neuro commended sarcastically, attempting to bite her index finger, but for once Yako was faster.

"And by the way, this is how you french kiss," before he could ask what was that, she kissed him with more enthusiasm that the two times he had kissed her. It was nothing like those times before; this was intense, hot, consuming.

She demanded his whole attention as her lips moved against his, her hands pressing his shoulders down to keep him reachable, her eyes closed in a focused expression that he thought suited her very well. He wanted to see this face everyday, so close to his.

"Aren't you going to kiss me now?" she mocked him, seeing that he was frozen in his place.

She shouldn't have taunted him, she really shouldn't have. Because with the usual forceful way in which he treated her, Neuro grabbed her legs and put them around him, leveling her for a more easy access. This was something new and Yako was excited to find out how this could work out. She closed her eyes, letting the other senses take lead. Now the woman expected the rushed contact from the inexperienced demon on her lips and embraced it. She was a newbie herself, but it didn't stop her enjoyment of her (official) first kiss with her kind-of-boyfriend bird demon.

She almost laughed when she felt what she thought was the wall against her back, only to find it was the ceiling. But, for once, she wasn't afraid. Sure of the demon's hold on her legs, she was adventurous and cupped his face with her hands, letting herself enjoy the soft touch of his smooth skin. Yako always wanted to touch it but was afraid to lose her hand in the process.

Again she felt his wet tongue rubbing her lower lip, and this time she let him in. For a moment she expected some kind of burning sensation, as his acidic saliva wasn't a joke matter, but after a few seconds she only felt his raspy appendage explore the inside of her mouth. It was like a cat's but weirder. She had only kissed someone once, and it was before the boy had to pay her restaurant bill, so she usually tried to bury the embarrassing memory. This was nothing like what she remembers.

An involuntary moan escaped her mouth, overwhelmed by the intense experience, as well as trying to breath some air. He reclaimed her mouth once more, greedy to have more of what they were doing, pleased to see her reactions. That sound was positive, right? He wanted to hear more of that, he wanted more of this, he wanted more and more…

"N..Neuro.." she managed to say, pulling her face from his and opening her eyes. "I need to breathe." He opened his eyes as well, giving a hard squeeze to her thighs clearly displeased to have been stopped. A sound between a grunt and a growl came out of his swollen lips, awakening a weird tingling sensation on her belly. Yako prayed that she was not developing a kink out of that.

"Then breathe, human. But we are not done for today." He whispered in a husky voice. A shiver ran down her spine.

She smiled nervously, realising that the floor was really far from the ceiling. The bed was right under them, but still she hoped that Neuro wouldn't drop her.