#like logically i’d like to think none of them would however this is giving …. SUCH minukmuzinhyon 😭😭

[minwooks-moved]

most to least likely in bae173 to be like this :

uhm … this is mostly like .. based off vibes + knowing which of them can & can’t cook KQNQAKB — like i know minuk can however ,,,, i can still see him doing that yk 😭

muzin > minuk > dohyon > yujun > doha > junseo > hangyul > youngseo > bit !! <3

send me a group w/either ‘MOST LIKELY TO ____’ or ‘MOST TO LEAST LIKELY TO’ prompts ! ✨💕

[gifted-loser]

The Grief of Having a Trans Child

I am mother to an amazing kid.

Assigned female at birth, but — cheeky as he is in all things — he let me know he doesn’t do assigned seating.

I’ve always been an ally. I’ve always surrounded myself with unique people who are authentically themselves, despite what the majority deems traditional. And though I am a cis woman with what may be deemed a very, um, basic aesthetic, I’ve never held much stock in fitting in.

I pride myself in being a mother who does not live vicariously through her children, or see them as an extension of herself. They’re autonomous human beings who I happened to manufacture, yes. But it’s always been important to me to lay a foundation not rooted in indoctrination, but in strong critical thinking skills.

For example, I haven’t been religious in many years. However, I am from Mississippi, arguably the most religious and ignorant and most definitely poorest state. I did not want to make my children’s mind up about what, if anything, they believed about religion.

I allowed them to attend church with family when THEY wanted to. When they decided they didn’t want to go any longer, I didn’t let anyone force them. I taught them not to make knee-jerk decisions, half-cocked on partial information, but to take in all sides of any argument and use logic to make up their own minds.

And damn, I did a great job because I can hardly win an argument anymore.

My long-winded point here is: it may surprise a lot of people to know how grief-stricken and conflicted I felt when my child came out to me as trans.

As an ally, I’d never had a fraction of negative emotion concerning anyone else’s preferences. You may wonder why, then — if I was truly an ally and as open as I claim — would I feel anything but happiness for my baby becoming who they were meant to be?

And this is the part that I think people should hear that I’m not seeing often made clear from a parent’s perspective. This is because, at first glance, it may appear transphobic in nature. In my case (I’m not saying every case), it’s much more complex.

So why would a non-transphobic, LGBTQ ally parent have such an adverse and upset reaction to learning their child is trans?

Explaining to the best of my ability, first and foremost I was hurt because I realized my child was hurting.

That this body — the body I made with my body, the body I rocked and held and dressed and kissed its fat cheeks — was so perfect to me.

Yet, to my child who means the world to me, this body caused grief. This body caused heartache and dysphoria and even suicide ideation.

Intellectually, I knew this had less than nothing to do with me. But emotionally, I was distressed.

Is this my fault, that my child hates their body? Did I fail to give my child confidence to love themself? Did I not instill enough body positivity, or possibly did I complain about my own form too often, causing my baby to question theirs?

How could my child hate what I thought so amazing and perfect, and what could I have done to make my baby love themself as I had always loved them?

It wasn’t just about the fact that I’d always seen perfection there; it was the pain and turmoil that my kid not only didn’t see perfection, but literally saw their physical body as their biggest obstacle in life.

It was the pain the body caused them, that also pained me.

Honestly, it still does.

The second wave of grief came not from what was, but what would never be.

All those images in my head of what our relationship would look like. Prom dresses and manicures and wedding gowns. If I’m being honest and had been paying attention, I’d have known none of those things were going to happen — not in that cookie-cutter way — regardless.

This grief was much easier for me to get over. This year I helped him dress in his matching white tux to go with his boyfriend to prom, and I bawled my eyes out. Not out of sadness, but with happiness that he was so happy, and because he is so freaking cute.

Now, I’m left with the third wave of sadness and grief. And it all stems from the fact that there’s a great big world out there that I can’t fix for him.

He’s in danger just by walking down the street. He’s in danger just by existing. And I live with the fear that some horrible person will attempt to end my child’s life out of ignorance and hatred. Someone who doesn’t know or doesn’t care that his favorite thing in the world is kittens. Or that he makes sure his little sister gets on and off the bus safely every day, even though he pretends he can’t stand her. Or that even though he calls me by my first name to his friends, when no one is listening he still calls me Momma.

Given the murky political waters of late, that fear isn’t going away anytime soon. It is growing.

So I hope sharing my own struggles with a child coming out as trans may help other parents in similar situations understand they’re not alone. It’s okay to have complex and even mixed, conflicting emotions to sort through. It is a process. For them, and for us.

And I hope any trans person struggling with understanding their parents’ feelings may benefit. Because not everyone will deal with difficult emotions the same. It may look like grief; it may look like denial, or even rage. But it also may help to know that sometimes those ugly emotions stem from softer ones. Not everyone is able to articulate or manage such a tidal wave of intense, deeply personal emotions.

You are worthy.

You shouldn’t have to deal with disrespect or rejection of your true self. That’s not okay. But if your parents love YOU, not their idea of who you SHOULD be, but YOU — don’t give up. They may need more time than you thought, but true love always wins.

As for myself, I’m an imperfect person just trying to do the best I can, like the rest. I don’t always get it right, and I have and will most likely fail my children again at some point — not intentionally, but because that’s the nature of being human. We’re prone to errors and mistakes. None of us, no matter how well-intended, are spared from that singular truth.

However, for anyone struggling with an unsupportive family, country, world — I want to let you know that YOU ARE WORTHY. And just like MY SON is still perfect, so are YOU. ❤

[1960z]

also inspired by penny parker’s ace attorney liveblog on here, I decided to do a character tier list! I’ll add to it once I start playing tgaa 2. some explanations under the cut

sholmes and iris

honestly I felt pretty unsure about the both of them when I first started the game. I like the few holmes stories I’ve read well enough and obviously have massive respect for their impact on literature and like the character fine but I’m not someone where “holmes is a character in this story!” is a selling point. and when sholmes was first introduced he was fun but his presence also felt kind of invasive. I also found the deduction scenes to be even slightly tedious at times honestly. but by god the way they portray him he just… wore me down lmao. by case 5 I found him fucking hysterical and was enjoying every minute he was on screen. and his relationship with iris gives him a surprising emotional core.

speaking of iris, I also felt hesitant at the whole “what if watson was actually a 10 year old girl” shtick and that brand of “child genius” character tends to annoy me most of the time. but fuck she’s just so immediately loveable. she still feels like a 10 year old despite being written to be a genius and is just truly so kind and sweet and she deserves the world. she’s so smart and curious about the world but she’s also still very naive and vulnerable in a lot of ways and it very literally makes me want to take a bullet for her. I think the idea that she writes the sholmes stories and they’re actually fictional retellings of her father’s diary entries is really cool too. it adds an extra layer that’s more than just “the holmes stories are real in this universe” which I enjoy

susato and van zieks

I’m hoping they’re both going to be in “would take a bullet for” category by the end of the next game but as it stands I feel like there’s a lot about the both of them that remains to be seen. like comparing them to maya and edgeworth at the end of aa1 and the journey we get to go on with those two characters, it feels like I barely know anything about susato and van zieks in comparison. and I am expecting to find out more, I mean… why does susato know about the hound of baskervilles is definitely playing on my mind and van zieks has his whole reaper thing going on as well as the “japan has betrayed me” thing he’s alluded to however of course none of these things have actually been explored yet and I feel a little emotionally distant from them as a result. susato and ryunosuke’s friendship is really sweet though if we get to see more of that I don’t think it’ll be long before she’s bumped up honestly. I also think van zieks is extremely cunty as you all know keep it up king.

ashley graydon

tbh I was so ready to say I just straight up hated this guy and put him in boo 🍅🍅 because he just… refused to take the L and people somehow kept siding with him without much logical reason to do so and it pissed me off… but they just had to make him interesting and throw in themes of the corrupting force of wealth and becoming the very thing you hate right at the very end. very dorian grey of him, just like his character design

taketsuchi auchi

the payne bit feels pretty played out at this point honestly and it feels considerably less charming whenever it’s coming from someone who isn’t actually my boy winston. so auchi just kinda annoys me

if anyone wants me to explain any of my other choices I’d be happy to!

[autolovecraft]

Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch.

As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood.

The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy.

There was evidently, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door. Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily? I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. Perhaps he screamed.

The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. I'd hate to have it aimed at me!

The hungry horse was neighing repeatedly and almost uncannily, and he planned to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom step of his grim device, Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom. Being without superstition, he did not heed the day at all; though ever afterward he refused to do anything of importance on that fateful sixth day of the week.

The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face.

There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb, and the overhead ventilation funnel virtually none at all; though ever afterward he refused to do anything of importance on that fateful sixth day of the week.

The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. Whether he had imagination enough to wish they were empty, is strongly to be doubted. His thinking processes, once so phlegmatic and logical, had become ineffaceably scarred; and it was pitiful to note his response to certain chance allusions such as Friday, Tomb, Coffin, and words of less obvious concatenation. The light was dim, but Birch's sight was good, and he planned to save the rejected specimen, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. I thought!

The tower at length finished, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the right grave. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. Davis died. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it.

He was oddly anxious to know if Birch were sure—absolutely sure—of the identity of that top coffin of the pile; how he had been certain of it as the Fenner coffin in the dusk, and how he stepped on the puppy that snapped at him a succession of shuddering whispers that seared into the bewildered ears like the hissing of vitriol. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom. Birch, before 1881, had been the village undertaker of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. That he was not an evil man.

Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste.

Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago.

Clutching the edges of the aperture. His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four.

Then he fled back to the lodge and broke all the rules of his calling by rousing and shaking his patient, and hurling at him a succession of shuddering whispers that seared into the bewildered ears like the hissing of vitriol. Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave.

In either case it would have been appropriate; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things.

And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture. There was evidently, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. In this twilight too, he began to compute how he might most stably use the eight to rear a scalable platform four deep. Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon. He could, he was sure, get out by midnight—though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face.

For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon.

Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him.

[empressbitch]

Hamiltum involving Thanksgiving because it's almost time for good meals and food comas

Ask and you shall receive! The holiday part of your ask is at the end, so sorry if that's not what you wanted. You probably didn't want hamburr either, but alas. Here you go, I hope you enjoy it anyway.

This fic can be read on ao3 as well.

---

Many men want revenge on Alexander Hamilton. 

I’d bet on it. 

None of them, however, could do it as effectively as I. I know how to hit him where it hurts. 

Oh, but I don’t want to ruin his career, or his relationships, or murder him. No, what I want is much more subtle. I simply want to take him down a peg. Shatter his arrogance, and weaken his confidence. He has too much of both, it would only do him good to have less. It would be even better for everyone else.

Oh, he’s beautiful. Thick red hair, rosy complexion, and deep blue eyes. An attractive accent you can’t exactly place, and a trim figure that’s irresistible. 

But I can change that. 

A hit to his ego is exactly what he deserves. 

---

Fattening Hamilton up was a lot easier than I’d expected. For one so intelligent and paranoid, he accepted my offerings with no second thought. 

I started slow, of course. Dropping a cube of sugar into his coffee when he wasn’t looking, or asking him if he wanted the rest of my lunch that I’d never intended on finishing. After a few weeks of this, Hamilton’s conduct towards me was considerably less insufferable. He was almost pleasant, even. I only wish I’d known that food makes him agreeable sooner. 

To his credit, he was suspicious when pastries randomly started to appear on his desk. He caved in and ate the first few pastries, but after my third attempt, he started giving them to Troup. I had to try another strategy, though thankfully he never caught on to what I was doing. 

My fatal mistake was in catering to his ego. It was a brilliant idea on paper, but one thing I didn’t account for was the effect spending so much time with Hamilton would have on me. I started inviting him to go on outings with me. “Let’s grab lunch together, on me,” or “how about dinner before we go home?” He never declined my invitations or questioned my motives. 

Our co-workers began to think I was courting him. I answered their needling questions vaguely. The appearance of courtship would only make my plan easier. It’s not like our outings were bad, either. I even began to enjoy and look forward to them. That was what I hadn’t taken into account. 

Alexander must have thought my intentions were romantic, too. He kissed me on our tenth dinner together. I kissed back. All for my plan, I’d told myself. 

We kissed often after that. Secretly, so that no one from work would find out. They must have suspected something, though. 

The good thing about our new physical relationship is that Alexander didn’t question it when I started bringing him food. Just a lover’s gift, he probably thought. Chocolate was the obvious option, though he ate any sweet thing I offered him. 

When I hand-fed him chocolate in my bed, I still tried to convince myself that it was part of my revenge plan. I got satisfaction from stuffing him, though it wasn’t the kind I expected. 

I could no longer convince myself it was all for the plan after the first time I slept with him. I started to crave his affection like he craved the treats I gave him. 

Alexander is my boyfriend now, and I’m starting to second-guess my plan. 

---

In one of our many conversations these past few months, we apologised to each other about past transgressions. Any feeling of vengeance that was once in me is gone. That’s good, but now I don’t know how to proceed. What I do know is that I can’t tell him about what I’ve been doing. He can never know. Fortunately, I don’t think he’ll ever find out. I mean, how could he? 

I know on a logical level that I should abort my plan. If I were a better person I would confess and apologise. He doesn’t deserve to be fattened up anymore, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. A part of me wants to continue, not for vengeance, but for pleasure. 

---

I think I’ve found a nice middle ground to solve my dilemma. I may never tell him about my plan and the true origins of our relationship, but I can be honest about my current feelings.

Alexander is sleeping over tonight. We’ve been doing that a lot, lately. I would bring up the prospect of us moving in together, but it seems far too soon to be taking such a big step. 

He’s changing out of his work clothes and into something more comfortable. I’m happily drinking in the view from across the room. He’s taken his shirt off, revealing a freckles chest, soft sides, and pudgy stomach. 

Alexander looks down at himself and grabs a chunk of his side. His face reddens and he bites his lip. “Mh, I should go on a diet.”

“Why?” I ask. It comes out meaner than I intend. I hope he doesn't take it as sarcasm.

He dramatically motions to himself. I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Oh come on, you can’t deny I’ve gotten a little soft,” Alexander huffs.

“Maybe. A little. I wouldn’t worry about it,” I assure him. 

My wording was a mistake. He begins to rant. “You wouldn’t worry about it? I had to buy new shirts and trousers last week because my old ones don’t fit anymore! Do you know how annoying that is? Now my wardrobe is all out of sync! I mean, seriously, how am I supposed to match the five new things I bought? And I can’t just buy a whole new wardrobe at once, that’s expensive!”

I can’t help but smile. “Oh no, whatever will you do?”

“You mock me! It’s not funny,” he pouts, an action made only more adorable by his puffy cheeks.

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you look at me like that,” I laugh and walk over to him, placing a kiss on his cheek. I let one of my hands roam and squish his chest. He closes his eyes and sighs contently. 

“Do you want a fat boyfriend?” Alexander says it as if it’s a trick question. 

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“You say that-”

I smugly interrupt, “Notice how I only started sleeping with you when you started to gain weight.”

“Oh.” A look of realisation crossed his features. I hope I didn’t give too much away…

“Everyone has their preferences,” I add.

“Ah…I was…I’m sorry for assuming,” he replies sheepishly.

“Please, do what you want, but don’t do it on my account. I’m more than happy with the way things are,” I tug his pants down, not without some difficulty. They must be one of the old pairs. 

By the end of the night, Alexander was convinced of my true feelings about his body.

---

Fun fact about Alexander: he’s never celebrated Thanksgiving before. This year will be his first. Neither of his parents were American, so it’s only logical. We will be celebrating alone this year, just the two of us. No family: I avoid mine like the plague and his are in Scotland (they don’t acknowledge his existence anyway).

That explains the gaps in his knowledge when it comes to the holiday. We decided to split the task of providing food. I’d procure half of the meal and he’d make the other half. I am hopeless in the kitchen, so I didn’t even attempt to cook anything. I bought all of the dishes that merely required being heated up. So mostly canned vegetables and a pie from the grocery store. 

Apparently, Alexander is a decent cook. Also apparently, no one filled him in on what exactly people eat on Thanksgiving. That’s my fault, I should have told him. Although, the result is a lot funnier.

“Alexander, darling, what the fuck is that?”

“Shortbread! Mum used to make them around Christmas, so I assume they’re a good dish for the holidays.”

“We don’t traditionally eat those for Thanksgiving,” I try to stifle a laugh.

“There are specific foods?” he counters, evidently very confused.

“Yes- you know what? It’s fine. At least you cooked something. What else?”

“I made some tomato soup. Oh, and pasta! Pasta is always good, right?”

I hear an indignant huff, “Aaron, stop laughing! You weren’t specific at all!”

“You’re right, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.” Alexander slaps my arm with a dish towel as I’m keeling over in laughter. 

He surveys the “dishes” I brought to the table and begins to giggle, too. “Maybe we should have coordinated this better,” he muses. 

Soon we’re both on the floor laughing. 

“Just let me do it next year,” he manages to say between our laughter. 

“Deal!”

Eventually, we manage to lay our strange spread on the table and sit down. I intend for all of this to be gone by the end of the night. 

I only eat half a plate. Though Alexander’s portion of the meal is good, I never have a large appetite. Alexander is eating like a normal person, but that will not do. He takes seconds of the deserts, but when he finishes those he sits back like he’s done. 

“Alexander,” I try to look at him as seriously as I can.

“Yes?”

“We, and by we I do mean you, have to finish this,” I motion to the table.

He looks at me incredulously. “Why?”

“I can’t fit all of that in my fridge! I mean, we could throw some away, but I know how much you hate that.”

Alexander bites the inside of his cheek and hums in thought. “Oh. Alright, alright, good point. But why do I have to do it?” The answers seemingly comes to him seconds after asking. He blushes and looks away.

“That’s unfair…” he mutters grumpily. 

“Do it for me?” I coax. 

He sighs, “Fine! But only because I love you.”

We’d done something similar to this before, but not very often. It had become a special occasion sort of thing.

Alexander sat on my lap and managed to finish the pastries and vegetables with no help from me. I unbuttoned his shirt to alleviate some of the discomforts from the bloating. 

“I can’t,” he whined, dramatically dropping his fork. 

“Sure you can,” I coo and start rubbing his stomach. 

“You’re diabolical for this,” he says, though his fake anger isn’t very convincing. 

“Oh, really?” I lean over and put some of the leftovers on his plate. He obediently takes a bite when I put the fork to his mouth. 

“Good boy,” I whisper in his ear, eliciting a muffled moan from Alexander.

I pepper a few kisses on his neck for good measure. With continual praise, belly rubs, and kisses, he finishes almost all of our cursed dinner. 

“That was very impressive.”

“I’m glad you think so, now please help me to bed before I roll onto the floor.”

I laugh. Always so dramatic, my Alexander. 

He kicks off most of his remaining clothes once we get to bed, and I do likewise. I lay down next to him, stroking his back and stomach, and hold him close. It isn’t long before we both fall asleep, warm under our sheets. 

Before I fall asleep, I mutter, “Sleep well, Alex. You’ve earned it.”

Turns out, revenge really is sweet.

[risukadarlin]

[piofiore] tokuten drama cd: love is without reason - track one

masterpost

                                                                                             ✿

Dante: 

Piofiore no Banshou.

Special Edition Drama CD.

Love is Without Reason.

                                                                                             ✿

Dante:

The curtains finally closed on the events looming over the mafias of Burlone.

Finally, the town was able to enjoy a moment of peace.

We all agreed to share information regularly, so that the same thing would never happen again.

That day, the five of us gathered face-to-face at the Church.

However…

Yang:

Ugh…

Gilbert:

What’s wrong, Yang?

Are you worried about something we just talked about?

Yang:

I’m bored.

Gilbert:

Huh?! Bored?

Yang:

Burlone is too peaceful right now.

Not a single interesting thing is happening.

Dante: 

There’s nothing wrong with that, Yang.

There’s nothing better than peace.

Nicola:

I never thought we’d be able to talk face-to-face like this, though.

Orlok:

But… I think it’s much nicer than fighting constantly.

Yang:

It’s so boring.

I barely feel like I’m living when every day's like this.

Gilbert:

You’re like a spoiled child.

I can arm wrestle with you, if you want?

Yang:

Can we use weapons?

Dante: 

Just what do you think an arm wrestle is?

What would you use a weapon for?

Yang:

Ugh… I’m no longer interested.

Maybe I should go find a woman to tease.

Orlok:

A woman?

Do you mean… her?

Gilbert:

Oi, oi.

I can’t just let that slide.

Yang:

What’s wrong with you guys?

It’s up to me who I play with and it’s up to her who she belongs to.

Nicola:

Not at all.

I don’t mean to complain about your other relationships, but…

I do if it’s about her.

Dante: 

Yes. 

As a Falzone, I can’t just stand by and do nothing.

Yang:

Why not?

Does she belong to one of you guys?

That’s not what I heard at all.

Nicola:

That’s true, but…

Gilbert:

That’s exactly why we have a problem with it.

We’re not so boorish as to complain about her choices after she makes them.

Yang:

Such annoying logic.

I don’t understand what Italian men are thinking at all.

Orlok:

You don’t need to understand.

Just give up, Yang.

Yang:

No, I have an idea.

If I make her mine, you won’t complain about it, right?

Dante: 

Wait, Yang…

Gilbert:

Why is that your conclusion?!

Orlok:

I won’t stay quiet if you try anything.

Yang:

I don’t get why you’re so angry.

What she and I do has nothing to do with you.

Nicola:

It has everything to do with us.

We all care about her, you know.

Orlok:

It’s not fair if you keep her to yourself.

Yang:

I can’t keep her to myself but it’s okay if I give you guys all a fair chance too then?

Orlok:

Of course it isn–

Gilbert:

Sure.

I don’t see a problem with that.

Orlok:

Huh? Really?

Gilbert:

I really wanted a chance to chat her up alone, to be honest.

Dante: 

I misjudged you, Gilbert.

Gilbert:

What?

You don’t want her to yourself then, Dante?

Dante: 

Well…

Nicola:

So, Yang…

By fair, you mean we’ll all take it in turns to woo her, right?

Dante: 

Not you too, Nicola.

Gilbert:

Take turns?

I don’t know how I’d feel if I couldn’t see what you guys were up to.

The rest of you are bad but I have no idea what Yang’ll try.

Yang:

None of you trust me at all, do you?

Dante: 

If you’re that worried about it, you should try acting more trustworthy.

Orlok:

We definitely cannot leave her alone with Yang.

It’s too dangerous.

Gilbert:

Right then.

This might be a bit annoying but why don’t we do it in pairs?

Then the other person can step in if someone goes too far.

Nicola:

Sure, why not?

That sounds hard for whoever’s pairing up with Yang.

Orlok:

If we do it in pairs, someone’ll be left alone.

Dante: 

Don’t worry about that.

I’m not taking part.

Nicola:

Really, Dante?

Are you sure?

Dante: 

Of course.

What made you think I’d participate in a farce like this?

Nicola:

Because you–

Dante: 

It’s fine.

I don’t want to play with her feelings like this.

Yang:

As expected of Mr. Falzone.

You’re always so clean and upright.

Dante: 

I don’t care what you say.

Gilbert:

What about you, Orlok?

You didn’t seem too enthusiastic about it either.

Orlok:

That’s true, but…

I can’t just stand by and watch.

I’ll join in. 

To make sure she’s not in any danger.

Gilbert:

Right.

We can decide the pairs by drawing lots.

No hard feelings, okay?

[koocycle]

play thing | drabble series (ii)

pairing. basketball player!jungkook x female reader

summary. jungkook is aware of the fact that you’re not his to love, yet he’s eager to show you what you’re missing out on. 

wc. 1578

warnings. explicit language, mild sexual themes.

taglist. if you’d like to be added, please send me an ask!

previous / next

The next time Jungkook encounters you, it is during his following training period.

He is embarrased to say that he hadn’t been expecting you to show up — not after you fled away the last time he had seen you, to say the least. He felt his chest tighten for you that day, yet he should’ve known way better than to believe in that simple act of chastity you put out for him prior to today.

It’s clear that you’re over that.

Because it had barely been a full week since that happened, yet it felt as if time was passing by tremendously slowly. Jungkook hadn’t heard a word from you; barely an effortless greeting in the hallways on campus, or even a facile glance his way during your shared lectures — however you shouldn’t have to worry. He knows that you don’t owe him a single thing, let alone a simple response to his text. He’s aware of the fact that you’re not his girlfriend, by any means — he figured you had better things to take care of.

Like that jerk of a boyfriend, for example.

Today you’re back on your usual spot on the bleachers though, on the front row just besides the messy stack of smelly duffle bags the boys had thrown around earlier. And whether that is because you’re here for him or for your boyfriend today, it doesn’t matter. He guesses he already knows the answer to that question he and doesn’t want to think about it. His head is feels heavy today, and he blames none other than you for it — he’s pissed.

Jungkook doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself and see things that aren’t as real as he would have liked, but he can feel your stare burning against his form as he plays, gazing down his every move. He’s barely able to concentrate when you put him under a microscope like this, and the only reason he refuses to look back at you is because he’s not willing to lose this silent game that the two of you are playing. It’s a tough game to play, and he’s having no fun in any of this, but he feels too sorry for himself to let you win.

It's not like he’d try to go and make a move to talk to you today. Especially not when you spent your week ignoring his texts before you continue to show up to his practices and proceed to eye fuck him to an obvious extend, as if you own the damn place. And just to clarify; you don’t.

And he swears he doesn’t care, however once he sees Minho making his way over to you the second his coach calls out for a ten-minute break, his throat goes dry. Jungkook follows him anyway, and he promises himself that it’s only for his heavy duffle bag which happens to sit next to you, but both of you know better than that.

You’re standing in place once Jungkook arrives at the spot, caged in your boyfriend’s arms.

‘‘You look hot,’’ he grins smugly, ‘‘Did you get dressed up like this for me?” Minho’s hands reach down lower, reaching for your ass. And Jungkook can’t help but to side-eye the scene as he takes a rather large sip from his water bottle. Swallowing it down his throat with a lot of effort.

He should walk away now that he’s gotten his bottle, but he instead falls down on the bench with a heavy huff leaving him, forearms resting on his knees as he decides to stick around for a bit longer.

You don’t properly answer your boyfriend, you only nod your head with an unconvincing smile on your face. And Jungkook needs to hold himself back before the vile grin appears on his face, because he knows why you’re here.  He knows and you didn’t even have to tell him – he’s convinced he sees right through you. And with the swift glances you’re shooting at him when you’re still in your boyfriend’s arms, you tell him everything he already figured out on his own.

‘‘I need you to stay here for me, okay?’’ Minho tells you soon enough, eyebrows shooting up his forehead as if you’re a pup waiting for his directions. ‘‘I’ll be right back.’’

‘‘Okay.’’ You answer him sweetly, disregarded by your boyfriend once his friends call him over soon enough.

It’s barely been a second after Minho has left you alone when Jungkook can already see you making your way over to him in the corner of his eyes, but he won’t budge – he refuses to. The least thing he wants to give you is the unbearable feeling of satisfaction that will only feed on to your massive ego. You don’t deserve that kind of power over him, he thinks. Especially not when you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

So instead of giving you the attention you’re seeking for, he’s pursing his lips in an annoyed manner and allowing his sweaty strands to fall in his face.

‘‘All good, Guk?’’ Your voice is sweet before you take place next to him, the sound of the soles of your shoes on the gym floor being all he’s trying to focus on.

Fuck. You even smell good. ‘‘I’m fine, thanks.’’

A funny silence hangs in in the air, and he figures that is because you’re trying to figure out what’s going on with him. Could he be.. mad? You’re so clueless and he swears he finds it funny, yet it’s hard to laugh over it when he’s the receiving end of your dense self.

‘‘Jungkook,’’ you whine besides him, the pleading tone that’s hidden so sneakily in your voice makes him freeze on the spot. ‘‘Look at me?’’

The guy swore he didn’t care before, nor would he invest in your dirty little games for the love of God himself, but the way his head snaps over to you once these words leave your pretty lips shows you the tiny amount of self-control he still owns.

He’s slowly, yet dangerously running out each time you’re close to him, and he knows he’s not the one to blame.

‘‘Why are you mad at me?’’ You pout, looking up at him from beneath your pretty eyelashes.

Now Jungkook sees what Minho was talking about earlier. You do look hot.

He’s been so pulled into your games just earlier, so competitive to not be the weak sheep in today’s play between the two of you – he’s been too worked up to take a good look at you. And man, that was a huge mistake.

The fabric of your skirt is rising up your thighs, tight against the thin, see-through layer of panties wrapped so deliciously around your pretty legs. He could slip his finger under the stretched material of your skirt and get a glimpse of your panties, he’s sure of it. But oh, what he’d do to see your legs wrapped around his waist some day ..

And no, this skirt is unlike the last dress he’s seen you in – this one has nothing to do with your previous fashionable choice of clothing. Nothing to do with the pretty, patterned knee-length dresses you’ve worn before. Today you came to his practice with a different motive, and to say you look merciless, would be bit more accurate for a day like this.

‘‘I’m not mad.’’ He’s keeping his answer short for a reason, and you’re aware of that. You had already caught him looking down at your lap just now, right before he swallowed his thick saliva down his throat and cut off eye contact with you at all.

‘‘No?’’ You ask sweetly, scooping closer into his side until your knees patently meet, making him look down, once again. ‘‘Then why are you ignoring me, Kook? It makes me feel bad.’’

When your hand reaches out to rest just above his bare knee, right at the spot where the fabric of his shorts come to a stop, he immediately tenses up and you can hear the slight puff that leaves his lips.

God, he wants to fuck you.

‘‘Did I do something wrong?’’ Your hand reaches up just a little higher, fingertips hidden under the edges of his shorts, ‘‘you should tell me if I did.’’ You say, your voice innocently continuing on whilst your bright blue painted nails are softly scraping against the skin of his inner thigh by now, something a little naughtier than it may look like from an outside perspective. He’s utterly losing his mind once you start massaging the sore muscles hidden under your warm palms — kneading the firm flesh in your hand.

Where the fuck is Minho when you need him?

You nearly jump off your seat on the bench when his larger hand covers yours, you’re surprised he doesn’t remove them from the warm spot on his thigh, yet you feel the desperation in his grip. ‘‘Why the fuck are you here?’’ He snarls, his temper increasing.

‘’What–’’

‘‘Why are you here, ___?” Jungkook repeats himself, clearly affected under your touch. ‘‘I doubt you came here for your little boyfriend who isn’t even here right now.’’

He’s so close to you, and he knows it’s starting to have an effect on you. You suddenly look a little less confident under his gaze, especially with his grip on your hand that’s only tightening with each second of silence passing by. Yet he doesn’t have the heart to feel bad for you right now, you’ve brought this on to yourself.

‘‘What? Cat got your tongue?’’ He snickers when you don’t answer his question, unable to think of a logical response right now. You already know that he knows – there’s no need for you to lie. Thus, he ends up one point ahead of you; claiming his victory with a cocky tilt of his head. ‘‘I don’t know what game you’re playing here, love, but I’d love to accept the challenge.’’

May the games begin.

— taglist; @jinsalpaca

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things-First Day Jitters (Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None.

A/N: There will be a Part 2 to this piece based on S3E10 in order to give some groundwork to the dynamics amongst the team once the reader joins them. Enjoy reading! I had so much fun making this piece. 

The Purest Things Masterlist

au! october 2007

"Criminal profiling is more of an art than a science. Modeling a criminal profile demands the precise marrying of psychological and rational instincts with the crime scene's particulars. What steps would you take in the process of analyzing a suspect to form a solid profile," the stoic BAU Section Cheif asks.

"First, I would want to accumulate all attainable information about the crime to help explain the "how" and "why" of the offense," you counter.

"What kind of information?"

"I'd want to acquire knowledge on the victim to examine the victimology. For example, I'd determine the victim's career and place of employment, friends, family, social status, criminal records, and daily routines and habits. Then, I can look at the connection between the victim and the unidentified subject. Did they know each other, or are they strangers? Why was the victim targeted, and was it them specifically, or are they just one quarry in a tangled web of attacks?"

You look for some signal in Cheif Strauss's attitude as to whether or not you should continue. 

Let’s ramp this up a notch. 

Taking the liberty of doing so regardless, you continue.

"Then, I want to know more about the attacker. I want to classify him...or her, as well as the offense. Why did it take place at a specific location? What is the motive? Is the suspect an amateur or a professional? This collection of data helps to assemble a proper crime assessment. I can now paint the picture of what happened before, during, and after the attack. Next, I can start to hypothesize and formulate a complete profile; I can deduce the kind of person we are dealing with. This assessment includes the age range, social status, what type of career he or she may hold, their I.Q., anything that describes the attacker. Now, I can give the profile to investigators and work to capture the assailant. The profile not only helps track him down but also helps refine the interrogation process."

Pausing the video recording, David sets the remote on the table.

"Academically, she's perfect for the job, Aaron. But will she fit in with the team? She seems too well trained, too straight from the textbook."

"That's why I wanted you to see this next part."

They both watch you in expectation.

"If I may Section Chief Strauss...as much as academic training benefits a student in laying the foundations for their selected career field, all of the studying and laboring over perfect grades becomes virtually obsolete once on the job. Instead, implementing the mechanics and learning through experience, trial, and error is far more beneficial. Executing what you've learned in the real world and refining your expertise in the field is the only way to accurately reveal whether or not you are capable of doing your job."

Rossi snickers at your straightforwardness. Aaron crosses his arms, struggling to fight back the urge to smile.

"Care to expound on that?" Strauss proposes.

"You don't trust the current...organization within the BAU. You feel as though Unit Cheif Hotchner and his team pose a threat to the unit. However, I think you put more emphasis on the chain of command. Specifically, you don't trust Agent Hotchner. In the entirety of this vetting process, you have continually undermined the Unit Chief's role in selecting a new agent. He has not been included in any of our telephone calls. Never once have you cc'd him on our emails. Nor has he been invited to sit in on our in-person interviews. I think the only time I've set eyes on him was in the lobby. He seemed to be completely unaware of my presence and purpose here. I'm sure that were I to be hired TodayToday, I could walk right into his office, and he would be blindsided entirely by my arrival and position on the team. Now, if I am to be apart of this renowned group of individuals, I want to know that I will be a part of it. I do not intend to be an outsider in my field or a pawn for higher-ups' ulterior motives. So, with all due respect Cheif Strauss, I would like to withdraw my application. If any of the aspects that I have touched on prove true and impact my role within this unit, I have no interest in undermining an established team that has no place for me."

Rossi claps Aaron on the shoulder, "She'll do just fine."

**********

You step inside the lobby of the FBI Academy. Although the sight is not new to you after your intense vetting process, it now takes on a new meaning. You have a new purpose. Processing your surroundings, you regard the entryway's clean efficiency. Considering the darkness that looms over this bureau, the lobby is welcoming all the same. 

So this is what my tax dollars have been paying for.

Noticing that an elevator has arrived, you call out to the person inside one of the many lifts. They hold it open for you. The sound of your clipping heels progresses as you run across the glossy tile floor. High heels may not seem like the most logical choice for your first day of work in the FBI, but when wearing them, you feel elevated. As if the world is your stage and you are the ballerina dazzling the crowd in her pointe shoes. Sure, they are uncomfortable at times, but wearing them can almost be considered a superpower. A quintessential accessory of the iconic femme fatale.

The woman in the elevator gasps as you climb on board, startling slightly.

"Are those Jimmy Choos?" She squeals.

You laugh and shake your head, peering down at the patent leather footwear, "No. I wish, though! They're just some old Steve Madden's I got on the clearance racks." Seeing her shoes, you imitate her enthusiasm, "Those are unique! I've never seen a green...quite that color on shoes before."

Chuckling, she thanks you, "Shoes are one of the many ways I express myself. I'm pretty sure at this point I have a pair of shoes in every color for every mood. Today I was feeling a little envious, so I chose this lime green."

"Envious?" You ask.

"There is a Doctor Who convention going on this weekend, and I have meet and greet tickets for the entire cast, but I've been called in on a case. Meanwhile, three of my friends from counterterrorism are on their way to meet David Tennant as we speak. So yes, I am envious."

"Oh my gosh, I heard about that! Catherin Tate is going to be there too. God, what I would give to meet Donna Nobel in the flesh."

"You watch Doctor Who?" Her eyes widen.

You shrug my shoulders, "I'm a bit of a self-proclaimed Whovian."

Shoving her bags underneath her shoulders to free her hands, she stretches them to you, "Penelope Garcia. We are going to be the best of friends."

Taking her hand in yours, you introduce yourself, "I'm Y/F/N/ Y/L/N. I look forward to having a best friend in the building. Today is my first day."

"Oh sweetie, you are going to do amazing," she looks up at the floor number as the elevator dings, "Well, this is my stop."

Stepping off alongside her, you notice her slight surprise. "Mine too," you announce proudly.

"Wait," she whispers, holding a hand up to your face in a stopping motion, "Today is your first day. Oh! Are you the newbie?"

"Today is my first day as a profiler at the BAU, yes."

Stomping her feet repeatedly, she cheers, "Oh, this day keeps getting better! My darling, you will fit in just fine. Now come with me. There's another fellow Whovian I'd like for you to meet."

Following her through the enormous glass doors and into the department, you can't help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle. "Welcome to the bullpen," she turns around, beaming, "Oh! Spencer, come hither, the new girl is here!"

The young man spins around in his chair and raises his eyebrows, giving you a once-over; he strolls across the office to meet you. You can't tell if he is too tall or too thin. Perhaps, his head is just considerably big for his body, or his lengthy hair gives that illusion. When he nods at you, holding his hand out to greet you, he looks slightly like a little bobble-head doll.

"Dr. Spencer Reid at your service!" He melodically sings.

Nerdy pipe cleaner. I like him.

"It's a pleasure, Dr. Reid. I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N."

"I read you got a full ride through college and graduated from Berkley with a semester completed at the University of Kent for Psychology of Criminal Justice, and you have a degree in Forensic Psychology."

You nod, impressed by his research—time to dazzle him with yours.

"And you, Dr. Reid, attended Caltech. You completed your undergraduate degree at 16, and you hold Bachelor's degrees in Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy. Very impressive."

"You forgot PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering," he adds.

You nod, "My apologies."

Breaking a tiny smile, he shifts his gaze to the floor as you notice the light tint of pink shading his cheeks. Unable to resist, you feel the heat rise to yours as well.

"Ah! You must be our newest recruit—Benvenuto nell'esperienza della tua vita," a gentle voice echoes from behind you.

Turning around, you see a familiar-looking, dapperly dressed older gentlemen gliding down the stairs to greet you.

"And you are Agent David Rossi. I attended one of your guest lectures at Berkley three years ago," you reach your hand out to meet his.

"Call me Dave, and you can thank me for inspiring your career choice later. Right now, we have a case. It looks like it'll be a first day via baptism by fire for you kiddo," he lifts his thick eyebrows and winks at you. David motions for you to follow his lead, and you eagerly journey behind him.  

In the conference room, you are met with the eager faces of four other new colleagues. The first to catch your eye is the herculean adonis, whose attention fixates on you. You watch as his eyes scour you top to bottom, taking your whole body in.

Four words. Sculpted by the gods. Where has he been all my life?

"Where have you been all my life?" The statuesque man purrs, running his thumb across his bottom lip.

Ha. Jinx. You can buy me a drink anytime.

"Hiding from men who lead an introduction with that," you strut over to shake his hand. A knot swirls in your stomach as your finger-tips touch, but you quickly dismiss it as mere infatuation.

Throwing his head back in laughter, he responds, "I like you already. Derek Morgan."

"It's nice to see you again," the bright, blue-eyed young woman you recognized as the media liaison smiles, "I'm Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me J.J." On the day of your first interview with Strauss, she offered you directions to the Section Chief's office.

Next, Agent Prentiss introduces herself. Her thick, raven-colored hair elegantly falls to her shoulders and encompasses her diamond-shaped face. There is a spirited as well as clever expression in her eyes.

Finally, Agent Hotchner stands up. You are taken aback by his astute and severe manner. He's taller than you recall, although you have only observed him from afar. Like most men, he seems to have become an automaton of the modern workplace, measured and valued just for his productivity and obedience. He is tense, most likely swallowing intense trauma and concealing it so he can get up each day and do the same tedious job again and again. Most men display these traits in the way they parent, becoming domineering companions, stacking decay over destruction until their home-life collapses. What remains is a mass of bitterness resentment.

Yet, he exhibits none of this. Beneath this rather tough exterior, you can discern that he is the kind of handsome that infiltrates your bones, that exudes an air of olden times before he's even said a word to you.

Tag List:

@chellybear98​ @destiny-tsukino​ @wanniiieeee​ @sweetiecake180 @vampiracontessa​ @weexinling​ @spaghetti-dad187 @hothskies​ @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos​ @mac99martin​ @clairedragonessbaker @cecemariee7302​ @halloweenwithreid @megans-txmblr​ @theoldestguard @purpledragonturtles​ @chazubagi​ @frogrrylovebot @agentaaronhotass​ @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @mcntsee @ssagube @softhetixx @kenzies-mr-j @peachyotps @cat11-2 @prettylittlemoonlight @ravenmoore14 @gubs-boobs @spencerreidsoulmate

[skyeventide]

I’m really really fascinated by your interpretation of Maedhros and I’d love to read more of it, I saw your comment on the post about earlier versions and then was super intrigued

-@outofangband

hello @outofangband ! thank you for the ask, I'm going to try putting it into words, though I'm usually much better at fanfiction to explain how I envision characterisation — and unfortunately I don't have any Maedhros fanfic other than To die in the light (which is less about him per se, and more about the ex thrall who interacts with him; but there's a good swathe of Maedhros as well). still, to explain:

essentially, what I meant with that specific comment is that I don't attribute to Maedhros any personal unwillingness to follow along the rebellion, the first kinslaying, or the Oath, certainly not at early stages. what I instead attribute to Maedhros is an aptitude for politics and a willingness to attempt diplomacy routes and handle public perceptions of facts, no matter how facts actually are.

a lot of this is, by necessity, extrapolation. the bare bones of characterisation are there in the text, but the flesh that is built on those bones varies, and can vary a lot. so mypersonal construction is informed by a few external things too. I basically just... don't really vibe with restrained good person Maedhros, cause that feels to me like the easiest route to construct a narrative that's contrasting, depending: his father's; his brothers'; sometimes other characters' (e.g. Elwing). and like, to each their own, but it's not my thing, and I'm not into singling out the good guy out of the bunch as a trope, it simply doesn't call to me.

I'll try to explain my points about early Maedhros (much as I'd love to explain my headcanons for the whole character arc, that would be so long and complicated that I give up without even trying lmao); also I'd like to add that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence but that's where both "personal construction" and "extrapolation" come into place. essentially, this is what I construct and extrapolate, and I'm not really interested in alternatives, I don't like them, or I just disagree with them. and by contrast, people may think the same of this.

firstly, not against the rebellion and the Oath: the early text in @undercat-overdog's post is to my knowledge the only existing text that gives insight with regard to the state of mind with which the Oath was taken. now the Silmarillion says "a dreadful oath", but the Silmarillion has reason to do so by virtue of hindsight. the entirety of the speech to the Noldor, fear and gloom of the moment aside, is a speech that pushes to action: it seems extremely fitting to me that the taking of the Oath itself should reasonably be something with an upwards push, taken without full acknowledgement of its lines and what they may entail when it comes to other elves. because the stated purpose of moving war to Morgoth is very clear throughout, and even though the reality of the war hasn't hit them yet, the awareness of its approach is very present — there is, imo, a readiness for fight and an acknowledgement of intent: killing a deity.

I also feel that "these leapt with laughter / their lord beside / with linked hands / there lightly took / the oath unbreakable" meshes fairly well with the Silmarillion version, where some of this is not kept but the sons still leap at Feanor's side, this time with their swords drawn. Maedhros in this is not called out as any different — in fact, Maedhros is not called out as being different during the feud either: "lies came between them" with regard to Fingon paints the rumour-spreading among the Noldorin factions as affecting them equally, just as it affects Fingolfin ("grew proud and jealous each of his rights and possessions").

the first kinslaying: again maedhros is not singled out as against it. and again, absence of evidence doesn't equal evidence of absence, however, my preferred method in reconstructing my understanding of canon through the skeleton of its textuality is at times trying to make sense of drafts and grabbing the fil rouge of their logical development. and, when there is someone called out as acting against the Noldor during the first kinslaying, that is Galadriel. Maedhros never even is named in this circumstance.

I also think that the modus operandi of the whole situation is a remarkable early calque of the second and third kinslaying. first, other options are exhausted first: the noldor go north, stop in Araman by foot, and decide the crossing of the ice is too costly, not doable, or otherwise not something they're willing to do (more: people directly blame Feanor for the bitter cold they're exposed to, before they have to cross, if they wish to reach Middle Earth); second, there is an attempt to convince Olwe and the Teleri via words; third, a passage that is textually absent from later deeds of the same sort, but which might be potentially inferred, the leader (here Feanor) sits alone brooding on his options; fourth, action. this is the same as what happens with the later kinslayings, even though the first was not meant to be a deadly undertaking in its conception (it was a theft). but, what I mean is, second kinslaying: failed first option, the battle of unnumbered tears, part 2 diplomatic attempt, the message to doriath, part 3, not textually stated, part 4, action. third kinslaying is muddier and I won't attempt to map it perfectly other than: delayed attack to the havens; diplomatic attempt via message; [not textually stated, may be incorporated in the delay]; action.

either way, my point is: whether Maedhros is outright leader or he isn't, there isn't any fundamental difference in the story beats of the kinslayings. inb4 "Feanor and Maedhros have different character traits" — yes, to an extent. and this is where the early draft from that post returns to my aid in terms of personality building: "the eldest, whose ardor / yet more eager burnt / than his father’s flame, / than Feanor’s wrath". now, I feel there's an important qualitative difference in ardour and wrath, but that line exists and the Silmarillion doesn't contradict it: the fire of life burns in Maedhros, the eagerness here mentioned does not fade from this draft to later versions. (inb4 “the circumstances don’t overlap perfectly”: yes of course they don’t. I’m not trying to argue that they do)

now, what happens when it's time to depart with the ships? Feanor takes counsel with his sons, and the decision is to take the loyalists and go to the other side with them first. what happens when Feanor tries to burn those ships? Maedhros gives his famous lines, "what ships and rowers will you spare to return, and whom shall they bear hither first". my extrapolation here is this: I think it's obvious that the burning was not supposed to happen; and I think it's obvious that the joint decision of Feanor and his sons, dare say of Feanor and his firstborn heir, was to send back a group and carry the rest of the Noldor to Middle Earth. Feanor says lmao fuck you and the rest is history. Maedhros doesn't take well to that, and here comes forth what I think actually distinguishes him as a character: the cool-headed pragmatism that will imo really come forth post-captivity, the diplomatic abilities, and weighing his options with a level-headedness that his father lacks — and I would like to posit, these options are not weighed in a particularly moral way: he appeals to Feanor about Fingon being carried first because Fingon rushed in and got involved in the kinslaying on their behalf (there may be different readings, but they don't appear to me as textually supported as this — and for the purpose of this I am making no difference between feelings of romance and friendship; the quality of the relationship is here irrelevant, the strength of it has more bearing). it isn't "Fingon because he's my friend", or "Fingon because he's a good guy", it's "Fingon because he killed for us". and after he is on this side, actually keeping the rest of their army, an army they need to effectively wage the war they said they would wage, becomes a cake walk.

also, I go back and forth on this, but: it's possible that Fingon gained his "the valiant" sobriquet before the Darkening; it isn't a given that it was gained in this instance, his Alqualonde attack. but I still feel like it's quite telling, whether the epithet is gained now or before, that it's brought up under these circumstances. the last "valiant" deed from Fingon has been saving the day during the kinslaying. whether Maedhros is saying it to convince his father or because he truly feels it's currently deserved, he's nonetheless saying it.

a last point is the envoy with which he accepts to meet with Morgoh's forces: this is very shortly after Feanor's death, and Maedhros goes in with more warriors than agreed, though it's still not enough to counter Morgoth's own breaking of the terms. Maedrhos in this demonstrates that he's willing to pursue diplomacy despite his father's own words, but he is neither blindly trusting nor a good person who's simply out of his depth: he goes prepared to be the larger armed force and brings none of his brothers with him. it's not enough, but the attempt is there.

which reads to me as an ardour and eagerness that are kept in check by pretty solid abilities to plan, and that do not, really, counter his father's wishes in any truly consistent way. yes, the ship burning, but in the long run having all the Noldor in ME was going to be a benefit; I feel he could have well patched-up the problems without giving up any crown. yes, the parleying with Morgoth, but they just lost their father and despite that the Dagor-nuin-Giliath is a victory: he's coming as the winning party and newly crowned king, and he might, perhaps, find another route to proceed.

so these are more or less the salient points of my personal reconstruction of "early Maedhros". it'd be too long to get into post-captivity and this post is already long lmao, but I hope this made sense to you? and clarified how I understand his character with that early draft included as an aspect.

*all opinions and analyses are personal and are not attempting to establish a true canon. they make sense to me; I’d argue that I try to make them as textually supported as possible with a canon so fragmented. if my readers’ here are different, go on y’all’s merry way.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if some Cullen stayed behind on a new moon to be with Bella? How do you think the story would have occurred?

They wouldn’t.

Remember, we see the series from Bella’s perspective. We get a front row view to her devastation at being left behind, her depression, and the fact that Bella is put into more danger because of it and ultimately the Cullens come back.

At the end of New Moon, the reader goes, “What was the point of this damn novel? Why even have them leave in the first place if they just come back?!” Well, it was to show that Edward and Bella can’t live without each other, introduce the wolves without the Cullens getting in the way, and start the Volturi plot threads.

Regardless, a lot of blame falls on the Cullens for daring to leave in the first place. Someone should have put their foot down and demanded to stay (several did but they ended up leaving anyway). However, from their perspective, I don’t think they necessarily made the wrong choice

Why The Cullens Had Good Reason to Leave in New Moon

They’d been living in the precarious world for months now where a human is in on the secret, really shouldn’t be in on the secret, just waiting for something to happen.

Edward plays human boyfriend, knowing that he’ll one day abandon her (he plans it, even, from the moment he first sneaks into her bedroom). He has no intention of turning her into a vampire.

Which means, for the rest of them, walking on eggshells trying and failing to think what happens next. Because this is not sustainable.

Eventually, the Cullens will need to move. It’ll be a while yet, Carlisle will probably spend another few years as a doctor in Forks while the “children” go to university somewhere. But eventually, one day, they will leave the area.

If Bella’s human, she’s not coming with them.

And if she does come with them... Bella will be this sole aging human living with immortal creatures. She can’t do the high school routine with Edward very long, would have to find her own thing to do while somehow still moving with this family, and it wouldn’t be sustainable. Bella would live a very miserable life that’s not all that different from if they had never killed James in Phoenix (on the run moving from city to city, protecting this secret from anyone who might ask, having to hide her relationship with Edward if they even manage to keep that alive).

It would be a miserable life and not good for her. Even Bella, the teenager who wants to be with them forever, sees that. She can’t stay with Edward and be human, if she’s joining the Cullens then she has to be turned.

Adding to this, hanging around Bella is very dangerous. There’s a reason their worlds are separate. Jasper might be the one who cracks first, but something was going to happen one of those days. That papercut could have very easily been Edward. Bella could accidentally scrape herself in front of a hungry Alice. Bella helping Esme in the kitchen might accidentally cut herself. Every time Bella spends any time in their vicinity, she’s playing Russian Roulette.

She just happens to lose at her own birthday party.

Jasper’s attack, and every single member of the family besides Carlisle having to vacate the house, is a wake up call that if Bella’s staying human then this isn’t going to work.

Leaving in New Moon is their last chance to give Bella a human life and future. Bella’s young, she’ll move on and make friends and live an ordinary life in the ordinary human world. I do think, for all of the Cullens, none of them realize the extent of her depression and she staked all her self-worth on the aliens who she only met a few months ago and who barely even know her.

And that’s important and I think people forget that, Bella barely knows these people and they know even less about her.

Bella spends her time hanging around Edward and maybe Alice.

She has had one conversation with Carlisle, the night he stitches her up no less, never seems to talk to Esme at all, barely even sees Jasper, Rosalie barely knows her, and for all Emmett thinks she’s hilarious that’s because she’s just Clumsy Human (TM).

None of them have any personal attachment to her.

Then you have Edward throwing a fit. Yes, Alice is adamantly against doing this, thinks it will be a disaster, but Edward’s the one they’re going to live with. More, Edward does have a point, this isn’t sustainable, Bella has no idea what she’s getting into, and if she can live a human life with her human family then she probably should.

Little did they know that they were leaving her to the mercy of Victoria and Laurent, relying on the protection of the shapeshifters who might unintentionally maul her at any moment, or that she’d become mired in depression and eventually attempt suicide.

Well, Alice knew, but her visions are also flighty things that while holding true for a moment don’t necessary hold true for years.

So, I can see why they leave, and why characters who are dubious about it are convinced to leave.

For what it’s worth, I also think they thought Edward’s breakup with Bella was an amenable thing where he logically told her why he was doing this.

Edward, remember, does not ask Rosalie or Emmett’s assistance in stealing the stereo out of Bella’s car. He didn’t tell them about stealing her photos and memorabilia and sticking it under the floorboards. Given Edward’s behavior in Midnight Sun, I’m sure he didn’t tell them that what he actually said to her was that she was a distraction and he’d gotten bored. Given that he had a very reasonable explanation to break up with her, I’m a vampire and you’re human and this isn’t working out, I’m sure they thought he was mature and reasonable about it.

He wasn’t.

Who Would Even Stay?

More, if anyone stayed, then you know Edward would be staying with them. Glaring at them constantly for ruining his leaving town plan. HOW DARE THEY.

And is Emmett really going to bail on Rose so he can hang out with Edward’s weird squishy girlfriend? Carlisle tell the family to go on ahead without him, he’ll catch up, while he sits there awkwardly with Bella and says “Sorry about all of this.” Rosalie, who loathes Bella, sticking around just to spite Edward. Esme staying with Bella and infuriating Edward and causing him pain (Edward’s Esme’s basically highest priority, she’d never do this). Jasper hanging around the girl he just tried to eat?

I’d say Alice is your best bet except... This isn’t the meta for it, but throughout the series it’s clear for all that Alice likes Bella, she likes Edward a lot more. Bella is nice, but Alice has her priorities in order and is more than okay with the significant odds of Bella dying horrifically if it means everything might work out the way she wants it to.

So, given that hanging around Bella would cause a rift with Edward, she’s not going to do it. Also, I’m sure the way she sees it, it’s best to get this out of the way now so that Edward learns his lesson.

And what would they even do then? If Carlisle’s family has moved then he can’t stick around town for long (maybe the premise is they moved on ahead of him to set up the house but that will only last so long). If it’s any of the “kids” they have to hide in the bushes all day as the family will have left them behind. If it’s Esme, why didn’t she go with her family and her kids to the new city?

So it’d just be them hanging around, doing nothing to... make Bella feel better? When it’s really Edward who she wants to see rather than rando Cullen she barely knows hanging out in her yard?

Basically, I can’t see a single one of them staying behind.

But if Someone Did Stay

Then, as I said, Edward would stay too.

And Edward would never forgive them for this. They would be dead to him, forever. I can imagine, in his upset rage and helplessness, Edward would say even worse things to Bella to make it clear the entire family should leave.

It’d be a shit show all around.

[maximons]

Into The Sanctum

Chapter Summary: Doctor Strange brings Y/n into the sanctum as he explains to her the situation at hand. However, the introductions to the team don’t go very smoothly.

Word Count: 3,021

A/N: Here we are with chapter 2! This one is a lot shorter than the first, and honestly the rest of the chapters will likely be around this length lol Hope you enjoy!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

“Y/n Fenton. 26 years old, acquired her abilities in 2019 after a lab accident.” Wong started explaining as he brought up multiple images and video clips of you throughout the years, using his magic. “Known abilities; Able to switch between human and ghost form at will, Invisibility, Intangibility, Flight, Able to overshadow other humans, Super Strength and Speed, Can summon ghost energy in a ‘ghost ray’, and Cryokinesis.” The sorcerer finished, leaving everyone in a moment of silence, not sure how to proceed after all that information.

“Whoa, that’s awesome.” Peter said in awe, but no-one else shared his excitement.

“We’re going to recruit a ghost...to fight other ghosts?” Loki was the first to ask.

“Fight fire with fire and all that.” Strange responded.

“How do we know we can trust her? Isn’t she one of them?”

“Yes, but she’s also human. Besides, just because she’s a ghost, doesn’t mean she’s automatically bad.” Wanda now piped up. “And you’re one to talk, Loki. Aren’t you technically a Frost Giant?”

“Yes I am, and look how well I turned out. Not exactly a good sales pitch.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Strange interrupted. “This isn’t up for debate. The ghost realm is bleeding into our world more and more every minute, and Fenton is our best shot.” Strange slipped on his sling ring and began opening a portal. “I’m going to talk to her.” Before anyone could respond, Strange stepped through, portal closing behind him.

Everyone stood in silence for a moment, before Peter spoke up. “C’mon, I can’t be the only one who thinks this is cool.”

“The very fabric of our reality being at risk and our world being overtaken by ghosts is ‘cool’ to you, Peter?” Wong asked, causing Peter to scratch the back of his neck shyly.

“Well, when you put it like that...”

Amity Park

You and Tucker were walking down the street, heading to your favorite donut shop. You stared at your phone as you walked, not really worried about bumping into anyone or anything as you used your powers to subtlety phase through them.

“Hear anything?” Tucker asked and you shook your head.

“No, haven’t heard in hours now. She’s really mad.” 

“Well, you did manage to almost get yourself killed the other day.”

“I’ve been doing this for years now, I know what I’m doing. Besides, I’m already literally half dead.”

“Not the point.” Tucker sighs. “C’mon, you’ve been dating her for over a year, and have been best friends for even longer. You should know her by now. She’s scared.”

“I’m not faulting her for being scared, but I can’t keep going through fight after fight with her for just doing my job.”

“Is it really your job though?” Tucker shrugged, causing you to stop in your tracks. Him following a second later. “I’m just saying, there are a bunch of heroes back now after the blip. It wouldn’t kill you to take a few days off.”

“They can’t do what I do. And they don’t know what we know.”

“You don’t gotta be all cryptic” Tucker laughed and you couldn’t help but chuckle along.

“Yeah, maybe not.” You shrugged. “I don’t know though, we’re the only ones who really know how to deal with these ghosts. I love helping people, but I’m tired of this too sometimes. I’d love to be able to leave Amity Park, really start my life, but...I can’t. All the ghosts come from here, and I gotta do my best to keep it that way.”

Tucker opened his mouth to form a response, but before he could, a bright orange light appeared. The light began to form into a portal and a man with white and black hair, dressed head to toe in blue robes and a read cape, appeared.

“Y/n Fenton?” He asked, which took you and Tucker aback. You looked to your best friend before looking back at the man.

“Uh, who’s asking?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, and-”

“Wait, that’s you?” You interrupted, eyes wide.

“Yes? I assume you’ve heard of me then?”

Your eyes hardened at this. You knew the name Dr. Strange a little too well. He, along with Iron Man, had been part of the reason behind the death of your parents, having been part of that fateful fight in New York. You knew logically that this man didn’t go out of his way to kill your parents, and that he likely didn’t start that fight, but still. You didn’t appreciate the reminder. 

“Yeah. I have.”

Strange noticed the shift in your tone and tilted his head in confusion. You two stood in a stand off for a few moments before Tucker coughed beside you.

“Sorry, but uh, you’re one of the Avengers right?” He asked as he started to fanboy.

“I guess you can say I was, though they aren’t really around anymore.”

“Still, that’s so cool! Hey, did you know Iron Man before he-”

“What do you want?” You interrupted as you crossed your arms, eyes still glaring at the wizard.

Strange regained his composure as he continued. “I need you to come with me. It’s quite literally a matter of life or death.”

Your hard glare faded and in turn you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Ghosts are pouring into our world, their reach is now far outside of Amity Park.” Your eyes widened when the wizard said this. You figured you shouldn’t be surprised that Strange knew of this, but you really weren’t sure how to react. “And I know you’re a little more than familiar about ghosts...considering your biology.” Now you really didn’t know how to react. You dropped your arms as you tilted your head towards Tucker.

“So much for that day off.”

Sanctum Santorum

Wanda stepped out of the room as the back and forth between the boys started. She needed a moment to herself to think, she needed air. She made her way to the rooftop and leaned on the edge, looking over the city.

She knew that her life would always entail having to deal with potential world ending threats. It was that way when she was an Avenger, and even more so now after becoming the Scarlet Witch. It got tiring, but she wouldn’t give up the responsibility. Not after Westview. Besides, it beat the alternative that Agatha had predicted for her, destroying the world.

But damn, a break would be nice.

Ghosts? Seriously? She guessed that she really shouldn’t be surprised that they exist, over the last year she’s seen some crazy stuff, but ghosts seemed like a scary concept. And not in a ‘Halloween spooky’ kind of way, it was more of a fear of the unknown. If all ghosts had the same capabilities as the Fenton girl had, she had no idea how she would be able to combat that.

Speaking of the Fenton girl, she couldn’t help but be intrigued. From what she’s seen and heard, the girl knew what she was doing, so she failed to see why she and the rest of the team had to get involved. Still, she figured that they should do whatever they could to help stop this threat.

She also agreed with Peter in that she was ‘awesome’, but she wasn’t about to voice that.

She took a deep breath as she bowed her head, calming her nerves. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe it could be easily fixed and they could all get back to their lives quickly. She knew that was unrealistic, but she had to have a sliver of hope every now and again or she’d go insane.

“Wanda!” She heard Peter’s voice in her head, way too loudly. She cringed as she held her head.

“Peter, we’ve talked about this. You don’t need to be so loud.”

“Sorry, Wanda. Doctor Strange told me to tell you to come back down. Y/n is here.”

“Okay, thank you Peter.” She felt the boy’s presence leave her mind as she picked her head up. She shook her head, ridding herself of the pain while preparing herself as she headed downstairs.

A Few Moments Before

The telltale orange sparks started forming in the main hall of the Sanctum. Soon after, a portal opened and Strange had stepped out, but this time was followed by two people. A woman who was looking around in a mix of confusion and awe, and a man who seemed to be bursting with excitement.

“Whoa! What was that!? That was so cool!” The man turned to the woman in excitement. “Was that magic!?”

“Yeah Tuck, but we gotta be cool here, okay?” The woman told ‘Tuck’ in a hushed whisper.

“Right, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I had the same reaction.” Peter piped up with a smile. He walked over to the two new figures, hand stretched out. “I’m Peter Parker.”

“Tucker Foley.” Tucker’s smile reappeared as he shook the boy’s hand excitedly.

Peter turned to the woman standing next to him. “And you’re Y/n Fenton, right?” You chuckled as you grabbed Peter’s hand, shaking it as well.

“I guess I’m famous around here.” 

“We just found out about your existence an hour ago, but I suppose you can call it fame.” Loki piped up, and you turned to him. Eyes widening a second later.

“Holy shit! Aren’t you the guy who led the alien invasion in New York?”

“That was over ten years ago, darling, let’s leave the past in the past.” Loki shrugged. “Besides, I’m doing the whole ‘hero’ thing now.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“It varies.”

“Okay that’s enough for the introductions, now-” Strange started before Peter cut him off.

“Wait, what about Wanda?” 

“Get her down here while I catch our new guests up.” Peter nodded as he began to call to Wanda with his mind. “Now, Y/n, you’ve done a lot of good over the last few years. Keeping the ghostly threat contained to Amity Park while the rest of the world remains none the wiser is quite impressive.”

“Aw, thanks.” You smirked with a shrug.

“However, those efforts might have only delayed this.” Before you could ask what the wizard was talking about, he brought up an illusion showing ghosts starting to spill through tears that were seemingly in mid air. “The Ghost Realm is starting to tear into our own.”

“Wait, the what?” You asked, causing Strange to falter slightly.

“The Ghost Realm?” He responded with a raise of his brow.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Um, where all of the ghosts are coming from? The source of your powers? You’ve been dealing with it for years-”

“Oh!” You shouted, finally realizing. “Yeah, we’ve been calling that the Ghost Zone.” You started to chuckle, Tucker joining, but everyone else remained silent for a moment.

“Right...” Strange proceeded. “Well the ‘Ghost Zone’ is starting to become a problem everywhere. We need your help.”

You coughed as you regained your composure, turning serious. “How is this even possible?”

“We were hoping you knew.”

“Look, I might know a lot about the Ghost Zone, but I don’t know everything. I’ve kinda just been dealing with it as it came for the last five years.”

“Well, it looks like you’re about to get a lot more proficient.” Loki said. Before Y/n could respond though, a new presence entered the room.

Wanda walked into the main hall where she found everyone in a heated discussion. She walked in further when she finally spotted the two new faces. A nerdy looking man, and the woman who she recognized as Y/n Fenton. She took a moment to observe her. She was in casual clothing, a white t-shirt covered with a red sweat jacket with jeans and red sneakers. A brown messenger bag slung across her body, indicating that she was on her way somewhere before she was brought here.

Wanda had only really seen Y/n in her Phantom form, since that was the only relevant part of her that they needed to know at the time, but she couldn’t help but think that the human side was captivating as well.

Wait a minute, what?

No, she wasn’t supposed to be looking at other people like this. Not after Vision. She never even thought someone else could turn her head again for one, but she also felt like she was betraying Vision and all they had by even simply staring at someone else for too long.

She coughed, as she tried to get rid of those thoughts, but in doing so she garnered the attention of everyone else in the room.

“Oh, good. Y/n, this is the Scarlet Witch. Otherwise known as Wanda Maximoff.” Strange had introduced her, and she gave a small smile along with a shy wave in response.

You, however, did not have the same welcoming response. You straightened up as your face tightened, eyes widening slightly. You recognized that name. “Wanda Maximoff...as in ‘Westview’ Wanda Maximoff?” You asked the room, however your eyes never left Wanda, who’s face now dropped.

The room stood in silence for a moment before Peter spoke up. “Yeah, um, we don’t really bring that up.”

“Yeah? Well, I am.” Before anyone could register what was happening, You changed into Phantom and blasted a powerful ghost ray towards Wanda. 

The blast hit her square on, knocking her to the ground. The witch shook the attack off quickly as she stood up. The awe that she had previously while staring at you was now replaced with anger, as she shifted from her current outfit into the Scarlet Witch. Hands and eyes glowing red, as your own hands and eyes glowed green. The two women stared each other down as the men stared in varying states of shock. 

Tucker was the only one who seemed to know what was going on as he brought his hand up and grabbed the bridge of his nose. “Oh man.”

“What the hell was that for!?” Wanda asked, almost shouting in anger. Your face didn’t waver however. You gritted the next words out, as you were also seething in anger.

“My sister was there.”

Everyone stood in silence for a few moments after the revelation, not sure how to continue. Wanda remained standing, but the red faded from her eyes and hands. Her gaze fell downwards for a moment as she straightened up. After no-one spoke for several moments, you continued. “I hope your little sitcom fantasy was worth it, cause Jazz is still going to therapy because of you.” You scoffed. “You didn’t even have the decency to give her a speaking part. Just one of your little extras.” 

Wanda sighed as tears started to spring to her eyes at the reminder. She shifted back into her normal clothing. “Look, I really am sorry for the pain I caused. I truly didn’t know at the time.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You scoffed before turning to address the rest of the room. “She’s a fucking terrorist. Actually, now that I think about it, what the hell am I doing in a room with all of you!?” 

You looked around briefly before pointing at Loki harshly. “You’re a fucking psychopath who almost took over the world!” Loki shot his hands up in surrender as you turned to point at Strange next.

“You were part of the fight in New York that killed my parents!” Strange’s eyes widened slightly at the revelation, but he didn’t get to say anything as you turned to Wong. 

“I know you were there too!” You finished by landing on Peter. 

“And you-” You cut yourself off as you realized you didn’t have anything against the kid. Still, you were stubborn and too into your rant to stop there. “I actually don’t know anything about you, but I’m sure you’re no good if you’re hanging around these freaks!”

“We’re the freaks?” Loki asked incredulously, as he couldn’t help himself. “Sweetheart, you’re basically dead.”

“Better being dead than a fucking murderer.” You seethed out. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t care. My responsibility is to my home and to those I love, that’s it. I never signed up for this life, and even if I did, I definitely wouldn’t wanna work with any of you.” You began to float and move over to Tucker, who had been watching the whole exchange in silence. You grabbed his arm, taking you up with you. “Good luck, sounds like you’re gonna need it. I’m out of here.”

With that you began to fly up, Tucker in your arms. You sped up heading towards the ceiling. You were about to go intangible to phase out of the building, when suddenly, your ghost ring appeared around your waist and separated, turning you back into a human.

Your eyes widened as you and Tucker began to plummet back to the floor, but before you both hit it, red wisps surrounded you both, breaking the fall. They didn’t last long though, as a second later the disappeared, making you both hit the ground harshly. Tucker rubbed his arm as you brought your hands up to look at them, wondering what happened.

“What the hell was that!?” You asked as you looked back up to the people in the room.

“I went into your mind and triggered your transformation.” Wanda answered, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight smirk on her face. Your face hardened once again.

“Stay the hell out of my head.”

“Alright, enough!” Strange shouted, finally putting an end to this. “Y/n, I understand your hesitation. I do. You don’t have to like us, you don’t even have to trust us, but believe me when I say we cannot do this without you. You may be angry at the world, hell all of us are, but we need you to put that aside.” 

You stood up, offering a helping hand to Tucker, but your gaze remained on Strange. You sighed, knowing you couldn’t ignore the severity of the situation. No matter how much you wanted to. You hesitated for a moment before finally speaking up.

“Okay. So what do we do now?”

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 11

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4125

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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

The longer you sat in the car the more uncomfortable you got. You knew you looked like a mess, and by the way Dabi was trying really hard not to look at you, it must be really bad.

“I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have… doesn’t make me okay with it.”

You would have rolled your eyes if you didn’t think the action would hurt your head. “I’m fine. You’ve literally stabbed and drowned me before.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “How long are you going to throw that in my face? They were both in your best interest and I’m done apologizing for them.”

His anxiety and anger were written all over his features from his tense shoulders to his cold stare at the road in front of him. You reached over to run your fingers through his hair, knowing the simple action would help ease his nerves. However, your sore muscles and possibly bruised ribs throbbed in pain and made you hiss through your teeth and your hand ended up gripping his elbow instead.

“What was that about being fine?” His tone wasn’t as antagonistic as you had thought it would be. Instead it sounded a little distressed.

It finally clicked why he was so upset. He had told you before you left that he would keep you safe. In his head he failed. You knew he had a rough time coping with failure thanks to Endeavor’s less than ideal parenting. Dabi can pretend that his childhood doesn’t affect him anymore all he likes, but you saw through it.

“None of this was your fault. You know that, right?”

The car remained silent as he continued to stare ahead.

“I’m serious. I’m not just saying it to make you feel better. If anything, it’s my fault. I let go of your hand after you asked me more than once not to. I froze when he attacked me.” Now you were just working yourself up. “And holy shit was I rusty with my quirk. Like I may as well have not used it at all. He was able to shake out of my word binding like it was nothing.”

Back in your prime you would have been able to take a guy like that down with little to no effort. You looked down to your scraped hands and knees. Felt the pain in your ribs with every breath you took. And you knew there was a decent chance you had a concussion. “How did I manage to slip this far?”

Now it was his turn to reach out and put his hand on your thigh. It was almost humorous how quickly he could shift moods when he thought you needed him. “Just a small hiccup. It was your first real fight in years. That guy was a trained assassin, and you still managed to incapacitate him. Next time you won’t hesitate. We’ll work on it at home, if it makes you feel better.”

You intertwined your fingers with his and nodded. “I think I’d like that.”

The rest of the car ride was quiet as you both let yourself stew in your own thoughts. Your thoughts were a dangerous place to be. Not only where you having a minor melt down about your recent fight, but you were still trying to cope with the fact you just watched Dabi murder someone.

As a hero that was something that was a massive taboo. You only did it if you absolutely had to and even then, you were still scrutinized. The man was paralyzed and couldn’t mood. You could have called one of the guys to come pick him up. Dabi insisted that if you let them put the man in prison, it would just be handing him over to the same people who were looking for you. Right now, no one knows that you’re with Dabi. That kind of information would be invaluable to both heroes and villains who were currently looking for you.

There was a sick feeling of despair that was settling in your stomach as you started to realize that Dabi might have been right. You didn’t want to accept it though. Your whole life you were trained to value human life, even if that life belonged to a bad person. But at this point you couldn’t figure out how much of your life as a hero was even real. How much you still agreed with. You were finding it was hard to even differentiate who was bad and who was good. It was enough to make your head spin.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head on the cold glass window as the spinning only seemed to increase.

“Hey… Hey don’t do that. Keep your eyes open and stay awake. You probably have a concussion.”

“If I keep my eyes open, I’m going to throw up. My head is spinning.” You put your head in your hands and rubbed your temples.

“Okay… so you definitely have a concussion. Hold on we’re almost home.” You didn’t open your eyes, but you could feel the car pick up speed. For a while the only sound in the car was the low hum of the engine as Dabi sped home. He knew it’d be easier to calm down once you were safe within it’s walls.

Before long the car slowed down as it approached the garage. You kept your eyes closed as you listened to Dabi’s quick steps around the car. He opened your door gently to keep you from falling out of the car. You heard his breath catch and you wondered if you really looked that bad.

“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.” Out of instinct, you reached your arms up to him just like you did when he carried you everywhere. Without a moment’s hesitation he slotted his arms under your knees and behind your back and pulled you out of the car. It sent jolts of pain through your ribs, but you bit your lip to keep yourself from making a sound.

The trip from the garage to the bathroom was shorter than you would have liked. You were enjoying the feeling being caged in his strong arms, snuggling into his warm chest. He gently set you on the toilet, brushing some hair away from you face, careful to avoid any area that might be bruised or bleeding. “I’m going to turn the water on, but real quick, while the water heats up I’m going to go get the groceries out of the car.”

If your eyes were open, you would be narrowing them at him right now. “…You’re worried about the ice cream aren’t you?”

There was a moment of silence that just confirmed it. “Shut up…Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be sad if you couldn’t have ice cream after the shitty day you’ve had.”

You snorted, “I’d rather have a shot… but I have a feeling you won’t let me because of the whole mild head injury thing…. So…” You opened your eyes and waved towards the bathroom door. “Go get it before it melts. I can take it from here.”

He sprinted out of the bathroom yelling “Don’t fucking move until I get back!” as he left. He said not to move, but you could at least try to start undressing yourself. That shouldn’t be too hard.

You started with your shoes. Easy enough, just kicked them right off with no problem. Now it’s time for your dress. That was a whole different story. You tried several times, but you couldn’t seem to be able to pull past your chest without some part of you hurting.

You desperately wanted to get undressed and into the shower yourself. There was probably some part of you that was still feeling a little defeated and insecure after your fight. You had this weird need to prove you could do it by yourself even though realistically you couldn’t, and not only that you didn’t have too.

You knew Dabi would help, hell he would probably be pissed if you tried to do this without him. Just as much as you wanted to do this alone, he wanted to take care of you probably even more. He was also still feeling the sting of perceived failure. So, what were you going to do?

You surprised even yourself when you sighed and leaned back deciding to wait for Dabi. Logically you knew the only you were going to do this without hurting yourself further was to let him help. It was what was physically best for you. It also would help him get over his own pity party, so in a way it was what was best for him too.

“Oh wow… you actually listened.” Dabi was back and making his way towards you with a first aid kit that looked like it had seen some shit.

“Not on purpose. I tried to get my dress off… but it just hurt, so I gave up and decided I’d wait for you to do it for me.”

He placed the kit on the counter and squatted between your legs. “I’m about to say something that I know you’ll think is sarcastic, but I promise it’s not… Thank you for giving up.” He gently pulled the hem of your dress up until he could pull it over your front. If he was affected by the fact that you were sitting in front of him in only a pair of underwear, then he didn’t show it.

He quietly appraised your injuries with a serious face. “Other than your head and your ribs does anything stand out at overly painful? Can you rotate and bend all of your joints?”

One by one you checked your wrists, shoulders, ankles, knees, and lastly your neck. “I think they’re all fine. Sore in some spots, but nothing too bad.”

He nodded as he started to clean the dried blood off of your forehead. “You have a lot of scrapes, but those will be fine. I just want to get this nasty cut on your forehead cleaned up.” He bit his lip, “I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m supposed to do for your ribs though… or what you’re supposed to do for concussions.”

You winced as he pressed a little too hard onto the gash in your forehead, “It’s fine… that’s what Google’s for right?”

He apparently didn’t think that was very funny. He just grunted as he continued his dabbing. When he considered himself done, he put a bandage over it. “I was kinda hoping you could show off your surgical staple skills. We could be twins.”

“That’s not funny.” His blue eyes fixed on you, you could see something cracking in them. “Okay maybe it’s a little funny… I might laugh about it tomorrow… but right now… not funny.”

He reached a hand into the shower to test the temperature. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up. We just need to try and keep your bandage dry, if that’s even possible.”

He was helping you stand up to get into the shower, but you stopped him right before you got in. “I’m sorry… I feel like ever since I got here all you’ve done nothing but take care of me.” You took a step into the shower. “I promise I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

He quickly stripped out of his clothes and got in behind you. “Stop with that shit. It’s like I said earlier today, just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.” His fingers started massaging into your sore muscles in your back, “I promise I don’t mind. I know you’re a big girl, I know you’re capable, but you’re also mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”

His fingers moved to base of you scalp and started rubbing firm circles, and you practically purred at the action. It felt so damn good. He leaned over your shoulder and pressed a kiss just below your ear. “I know you got a little beat up today, and I know you’re a little disappointed, but at the end of the day you’re the one who walked away. I’m still proud of you. You fought hard against someone who has been trained to kill top ranked heroes. Next time I’m sure you won’t even need me.” He kissed your shoulder and his hands ghosted around to your hips. His fingers so soft you almost couldn’t feel them. “I’m going to start training with you.” His fingers brushed up your sides, his thumbs brushing the sides of your breasts. “We’re going to turn you into someone they wouldn’t dare fuck with again.”

His hands heated up slightly as they very gently hovered over your ribs. The warmth felt great against your aching bones. You closed your eyes and leaned back against him and let him take his time rinsing all the blood and dirt from your body. Every once in a while, his hands would linger, rubbing small circles or massaging your sore muscles.

When he turned the water off it felt like it had been hours since you stepped in and your limbs felt like jelly.

That’s how you ended up wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, lying on Dabi’s chest with his arms around you. You don’t know when you drifted off but thankfully there were no bad memories waiting for you when you did. You slept deeply and soundly, making up for the restless sleep you had last night. When your little mid-day nap ended you woke up still feeling sore, but well rested.

You stretched the best you could, before blinking your eyes open. You had expected to see Dabi curled up next to you, but was surprised to find an empty bed.

He better not have snuck out again to track people down. You weren’t in any shape to take care of him if he came back hurt again.

Something felt weird as you sat up, there was a weird pressure on your neck, almost like you were wearing a heavy necklace. Your fingers flew up to find a collar and your eyes immediately welled with tears as the memory of have having the medical collar on in the lab pushed to the front of your brain. Your fingers dug into it trying to rip it off, but you couldn’t. In your panic your nails dug into the skin of your neck. There was no latch that you could find, and it was leading to a gnawing fear in the pit of your stomach. “DABI!!”

Your voice sounded hysterical and terrified even to you. But you couldn’t help it.

The door to his room slammed open a few seconds later as he ran inside. His eyes assessed the situation and settled on the source of your panic. His hands replaced yours pulling your nails away from your neck. “Hey shhh, calm down. You’re safe. Just breath.”

You tried to do what he said, but your breathing was getting tighter. “I-I need it off! I cant- I cant breath!” You felt a tear slip down your cheek. “Please! Dabi get it off of me!”

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “No… no you are stronger than this. It’s just a glorified necklace. It can’t hurt you. Look at me y/n!” Your eyes met his cool blue ones. “It’s just a pretty collar for my pretty girl. I told you earlier today if you let go of my hand again, I’d put you in a collar. You did, and it ended up in you almost getting kidnapped.” His thumb rubbed your cheek, soaking up some stray tears you weren’t aware you had shed. “I don’t make idle threats… and besides if you let me show you, I think you’ll actually like it.”

Your breathing slowly started to even out as your eyes started to look more focused. “Good girl. See there’s no danger here.”

When you felt yourself come back to reality you slapped his chest. “Asshole! You had to have known that wasn’t going to go well! You should have asked first!”

He grabbed your hand before you could slap him again. “I mentioned it earlier and you didn’t say anything. If anything, you looked turned on… so sue me.” He took your hand and led you over to the bathroom.

He placed you in front of him so you could see. It was a pretty shade of pink with a metal heart looped in the front. From the heart hung a tiny Sakura flower. It really was pretty.

“It’s not just a fashion statement okay, it’s functional. Consider it support gear. It has a chip in it that can only be tracked if you turn it on and only by people that have the code. Don’t worry it’s currently turned off.” He pointed to a little metal button on the side. “There’s another button over here that lets you record something and then play it back louder so it reaches more people. It also acts like a communication device. You can connect with me, Minimight, Squirt, and the angry Pomeranian. It’s voice activated.” He tapped the button and held it down until you heard a beeping noise. “Call backup plan.”

You heard a ringing before an angry Katsuki answered the phone. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Hey! Lose the tude it’s just me!”

Before he could answer you, Dabi cut him off. “It’s her new com device. Save it.” Then he clicked the button ending the call.

He looked smug. You’d have to figure out how to reprogram the names later. “It also can track your vitals, but before you give me the look I know you’re going to give me. It only sends updates to the people you have programmed into it, and only if it registers that you are in critical or life-threatening conditions.”

Your fingers came up and touched the flower that dangled from it. “Ok… but how do I take it off?”

Happy you were warming up to the idea of it, “Voice command. Just push the button and say ‘naked’ and the latch will open. You can also say ‘attack’ and some pretty little spikes come out, keeping anyone from putting their hands around your neck. Pretty cool right?”

You sighed, “I can admit it’s cool… but can you please admit you should have asked first? I had to wear a collar for years in the lab… it’s what kept me under their control.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the way you looked in the mirror. Totally naked other than the collar. His eyes looked practically feral. “I regret that it scared you. But I warned you and you didn’t tell me it was a limit. That is due to a lack of communication on your side.” His hands slid around to your front pulling your back against him so you could feel how hard he was through his pants. “God you look so fucking hot. Bruises and all.”

He began to grind against your ass, and you found yourself leaning over the sink and pushing back into him. You knew you were already wet, and you needed some friction to relieve the ache between your legs.

“Oh fuuuuck baby girl. You want it? You want me to bend you over this counter and take you?”

You whined and pushed back into him harder, “Please… but- but.” You groaned as his hand came up to tweak your nipple.

“What was that? Come on use your words.”

You arched your back, pushing your breast further into his hand. “Be gentle...”

His lips found your neck, “Of course baby. I’m not a monster.”

You felt him push his shorts down to his ankles and moments later you felt the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “You’re already so god damn wet.” He pushed into you slowly. Almost too slowly. It took everything in you not to shove yourself back onto him. You had asked him to be gentle, and that’s what he was trying to do.

You let out a moan of relief when he was fully inside you. His chest pressed tightly against your back his hands reaching out to yours and lacing your fingers together.

It was slow, it was slow and sweet. You thought at first it would drive you crazy, but you were eventually overwhelmed at the intimacy of it all. He wasn’t just fucking you. He wasn’t just chasing his own high. He was gentle, and loving, and every stroke felt like a promise. His lips were kissing every part of you he could reach. Your temple, your cheek, your neck, your shoulder.

“So perfect.” He groaned at the effort it took to keep his hips from picking up their pace. “Such a perfect girl for me. So fucking pretty and strong. Ahhhh” His hips stuttered just slightly. “Fuck baby, you have no idea what you do to me.”

You tried to control it, but it was almost impossible. Your quirk activated. Your feelings spilled over through your touch. His gasp got stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry I can’t control it right now. I just feel – ah- so fucking good.”

You were both sweaty messes at this point, practically glued together. “Shit don’t apologize. It’s crazy how much I love that. I love making you feel good, show me how good I make you feel.”

You hummed at the pleasure that was singing in your veins. You were so close and Dabi could feel it. Both through your quirk and the way your walls started to flutter around him. You were about to beg for him to let you come when a beeping sound came from your collar making him slow down nearly to a stop. “Fuck.. no no no. I was so close, please.”

Dabi chuckled. “Someone’s calling you, say hello.” Your eyes bulged open as he hit the button to answer the call.

“Uh.. hello?”

“Y/n? What the fuck was that earlier? Did staple dick get you a phone?” This was not good. You looked at Dabi’s devilish grin in the mirror as he slowly started thrusting into you again as he mouthed, ‘talk to him’

You bit a moan back absolutely mortified. “Hey Kats. Something like that.” Dabi’s hand wrapped your long hair around his hand and pulled to make you look at him through the mirror. His pace picking up. You could hear your breath begin to sound labored and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he pieced it together. “Now’s not the best time, can I call you later?”

“Y/n… are you okay? You sound like you’re out of breath?”

You coughed in an attempt to cover up one of your moans, “I’m fine, just tired. Dabi and I are… training.”

There was a beat of silence on his end as Dabi continued his hard, slow thrusts into you. “Training my ass. Call me when you guys are done fucking… The mic on whatever you’re using is really good. I’ve already heard more than I want too.”

You went to hit the button to end the call but Dabi grabbed your hand and put it back on the counter preventing it. “Ah- Sorry Kat-SUKI!” Dabi pinched your clit with his other hand causing you to moan in response. Your face turned a dark shade of red at the fact that Katsuki had just heard that.

“Dabi… I know you’re listening and you’re a fucking asshole.” You sighed in relief when you heard the sound signaling that he had hung up.

Dabi started laughing loudly as picked up his pace just slightly. “Teach him to want what’s mine.”

You felt tears start to leak from the corners of your eyes as your orgasm built to its breaking point. “DABI! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum. AH!”

You felt your orgasm rip though you and it was intense. Dabi cooed praises in your ear that you couldn’t quite hear as he continued to ride you though it. “Good giiiiiirl!”

“I’m close doll, where do you want it?”

Your eyes almost rolled back, “Inside. Cum inside me please.”

“My baby girl want’s my cum. Of course, she does. What my girl want’s she gets!” He slammed into you a few more times before you felt his hot ropes coating your insides. “Gonna bread my pretty girl one of these days. Gonna put a fucking baby in you.”

He collapsed but managed to keep his weight off of you. After a few moments of the both of you panting he sat up, pulled out of you and kissed the back of your neck. “God I love this collar.”

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

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99

[blockgamepirate]

So we were talking on Discord about a DSMP superpowers AU, specifically Syndicate as an anarchist superhero team who are perceived as villains by pretty much everybody. (There were a bunch of people involved in the brainstorming but I wanna particularly credit @macachee for the idea for Techno’s superpowers, even though I ended up using a slightly different version than theirs.)

Anyway I know I don't really write fanfic anymore and I'm extremely rusty but uh... my hand slipped?

(CW: nothing major but there are repeated mentions of fire and some pretty tame violence)

×××

"Professor Underscore, I presume?"

The distinctive deep voice of an infamous supervillain was really not something anyone wanted to hear after 14 hours of last minute bug-fixing on a prototype superweapon in a secret laboratory. Especially when all your assistants had already called it a day and gone home.

Without even looking around, Tubbo reached for the gun in his desk drawer but before he could pull it out, a blade smashed into the wood right next to his hand.

"Nope", said the voice, "you don't get to have weapons, I get to have weapons. And speaking of weapons..."

Tubbo carefully turned around on his chair to face his attacker. As expected, it was a huge, hulking pigman dressed in flashy red and a golden mask.

"You are Protesilaus, aren't you? From the Syndicate?"

Protesilaus blinked at him. "You're a LOT younger than I expected, professor."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"I mean it's very impressive though, good for you."

"Thanks."

"So anyway, I'm here for the weapons."

"The weapons are kinda reserved already. You know, for the military."

"Don't give a shit", said a voice from the door. "Gib."

Protesilaus sighed. "Zephyrus, you're supposed to be the secret back-up."

The man hiding by the door frame laughed. "We already took care of the guards. There's nobody here but him, it's fiiine."

"But what if HE has his own secret back-up? What then? Well, it's too late now so just keep a look-out, alright?"

Zephyrus laughed again. "Sure."

"Alright." Protesilaus pointed his sword at Tubbo. "Show us to the weapons."

×××

There wasn't much he could think of doing to stall except try and tap in the pin codes on the doors as slowly as humanly possible. To be fair he didn't even really know what he was stalling for exactly. Secret back-up would have been nice but if they’d really taken out all the guards then none was likely to come.

Protesilaus was following him, sword in hand, making random small talk on the way as if he didn't know how to deal with the silence. Tubbo had only caught a few glimpses of Zephyrus, the winged man, in the background or in reflections. He seemed to be tampering with the security systems on the way, meaning that Tubbo really might be completely alone on this if the sabotage was successful. Zephyrus was also pulling along a big wheeled container of some sort that was probably intended for the weapons.

The two of them were the known members of the Syndicate, a team of anarchist terrorists who gave nightmares to the local police forces, the national guard and occasionally the military, but it was also widely theorized to have a secret third member with fire powers. Nobody had ever managed to catch them in the act, the only evidence of the secret member's existence was the trail of smoking ruins following the pair, their targets always burned down in a blaze of extremely memorable pink flames.

Tubbo had a theory that there were actually two secret members in the Syndicate, because if you're going to have one secret member you might as well have two, right? Maybe even three! It just made sense.

His assistants hadn't seemed convinced by this logic.

They arrived at the large hall leading up to the main vault where the prototypes were hidden and Tubbo finally had a plan. Somebody (probably him, honestly) had left the remote control of his battle bots lying around on a sidetable. He took advantage of his captors checking the space for surprise guards and inched slowly towards the remote.

"Everything good up there?" Protesilaus called out to Zephyrus who had flown up to the rafters.

"All good."

"Alright, seems safe enough", said Protesilaus. "Now, open the vault."

Tubbo just needed to stall a little bit longer until he could grab the remote undetected. "Actually, maybe I just won't be able to live with the fact that I let you guys get your hands on superweapons? What if I'd rather die than let you have them?"

Protesilaus sighed. "Look, don't worry, it's for a good cause, I promise."

"I mean, you guys are supervillains."

"Oh yeah sure, you're literally making weapons for an imperialist government but we're the villains?"

"What about that orphanage you burned down?" Tubbo kept moving towards the sidetable, trying to make it look like he was just pacing nervously.

"I have NEVER burned down any orphanages, I do NOT have an irrational hatred of small children, in fact I LOVE orphans in particular, you can ask anyone."

"You did, though! That was like two years ago, back when you were part of the Sleepy Bois Inc!"

Tubbo actually knew quite a lot about the Sleepy Bois, the infamous villain team who were particularly known for conning people into taking part in some sort of strange experiments, like that time they somehow transported a hundred people to the moon and told them to terraform a random area. The group had broken up a while back and two of the four had since reformed. Well, more or less reformed anyway. Actually not really reformed, but they were at least sticking to smaller crimes these days.

Anyway Mr. Business was now one of Tubbo's best friends, although nobody was supposed to know that. And Dirty Crime Boy seemed like a surprisingly nice guy. He was out there running what seemed to be some kind of a drug van but Tubbo had chosen not to worry about it too much.

The other two members, however...

"Sleepy Boys? Doesn't ring a bell." Protesilaus' face was suspiciously blank.

"You know, back when you called yourself the Blood God."

"Nah nah nah, I'm Protesilaus, not the Blood God."

"Come on, you're OBVIOUSLY the Blood God."

"I've never even heard of that guy."

"You're LITERALLY a pigman with superhealing powers and a shiny magical sword, you wear a crown AND you're hanging out with a blond guy with wings who looks just like the Angel of Death."

"Wow, wild coincidence", said Protesilaus

“Not gonna lie, the Angel of Death is a really cool name“, said Zephyrus.

Tubbo ignored them. "And you sound exactly like the Blood God."

"I don't hear it", said Protesilaus.

"You said you don't even know who he is!"

"Exactly."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'EXACTLY'??? THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!!!"

"Well I can't hear it if I've never even heard him speak. That's just logic."

Up in the rafters Zephyrus was cackling like a madman.

"You annoy me so much", said Tubbo.

"Aaaanyways, just give us a little peek into the vault, alright? Just out of curiosity, you know."

Tubbo had made it to the remote, he just needed one more distraction to cover for him grabbing it. "Uh..." Then he had an idea: he just took a quick sudden glance at the exit, as if he'd seen something over there and sure enough both of the criminals immediately turned to check. It was just long enough. He got the remote. "Okay fine, you can see the vault."

"Nice, nice." Protesilaus was still glancing around suspiciously but he had no idea what he should have been suspicious of.

Tubbo was more than happy to open the vault now. It might be holding the prototypes but it was also filled with a small army of robots.

All of which came to life with the press of a button.

"Ah", said Protesilaus. "There's his secret back-up."

"Oh Jesus", said Zephyrus. "I think we fucked up."

"You could say that", said Tubbo. "If you just leave peacefully I might let you go", he added in a sudden fit of uncharacteristic levels of confidence.

Protesilaus raised his sword. "Well you see, I really want those weapons, though."

"I guess you'll just have to fight the robots for it then", said Tubbo, configuring the targetting system.

"Mate, they've got guns on them", Zephyrus called out from above.

"Take cover then", said Protesilaus, very much not taking any cover at all himself.

Tubbo, pretty sure the bots knew which people to fight, released them on the criminals.

Protesilaus immediately managed to dodge the first few lazer bolts from the bots, but the third hit him on the arm. He flinched a bit but didn't seem too bothered. "Ouch. Okay so they can actually aim."

Still dancing around the shots, he held his hand to the wound and once he took it off, only the singed hole on his sleeve remained. The Blood God had been known for some kind of healing powers and coincidentally Protesilaus of the Syndicate, who apparently definitely wasn't the Blood God, just happened to also have healing powers. This fight was going to be hard even for thirty robots.

The pigman finally took some cover, hiding behind a pillar. The robots would have to move closer and Tubbo could already tell that if he'd manage to single them out, Protesilaus would easily take them down one by one.

Even worse, Zephyrus had hidden behind a different pillar up near the ceiling and was sniping the bots from above. They were supposed to be bulletproof but the man was absolutely cracked and managed to keep hitting them in the joints and in the eyes.

But at least the bots had given Tubbo some room to work with. He bolted into the vault and headed straight for a very specific section.

"So I just wanna know, professor", Protesilaus called out from the hall, "how are you NOT the evil mastermind here? You have a LITERAL horde of robots in your control that you can just let loose on people!"

"What do you MEAN? They're for fighting people like you! In this exact kind of situation!" Tubbo found what he was looking for and quickly unbuckled the huge harnesses holding it in place. He had to get a stool to reach the highest ones and nearly tripped on it in his hurry.

"Oh and how many of these have you sold to the government? And what if they just decide that they'd be very convenient for taking care of dissenters?"

"Well if the dissenters are literal supervillains, that sounds great." He climbed the ladder on the wall up to the platform by the mech suit and jumped inside.

He couldn't hear what Protesilaus responded after he pulled down the dome of the suit over his body. The sounds of fighting and the bulletproof glass drowned it all out from this distance, and the sound system wasn’t turned on yet. Now the odds should be a lot more even, though. Let’s see how they deal with this, he thought. He settled in and launched the mech--

... and then maneuvered awkwardly through the mess of secret weapons and machines inside his vault. He was pretty sure he didn't break too many things on the way, it was fine. In the corner of his eye he thought he saw a flash of pink and for a second he worried that the pigman had followed him into the vault where it would be almost impossible for him to fight in the suit but luckily he could still hear the sound of sword clanging into metal from outside.

He moved over to the vault door as sneakily as he could while piloting a 12-foot-tall machine in a tight space and looked out into the hall. The floor was littered with broken robots, and there were several blinded ones aimlessly wandering around and getting in the way of the ones that still functioned properly. Protesilaus was towards the back of the hall, stabbing a bot in the armpit and tearing off its arm, Zephyrus on the other hand, still perching on the rafters, had moved around the pillar he had hidden behind, now aiming away from the vault. Neither of them were looking at Tubbo. He took aim and shot at one of the huge grey wings.

"Ah! Fuck!" Zephyrus spun around. "You little shit!"

"Zephyrus, are you okay??" Protesilaus immediately looked over to his ally and took another hit himself.

"I'm FINE, dude!" Zephyrus sounded exasperated but fond. "Look out yourself! Also the kid has a fucking mech."

"A what?"

Tubbo slammed the vault door shut. Good luck getting in there now, Syndicate. Then he tossed aside some robot carcasses to clear out the floor and threw one at Protesilaus who dodged it easily but in the process took another hit from a different robot. He was starting to look tired and he was obviously distracted by Zephyrus getting hurt. That was promising.

Tubbo started climbing the pillar up to the ceiling. Zephyrus cursed again and tried to hop around the pillar to run across to the other side but his hurt wing didn't open properly so he lost his balance, slipped up and fell. "Shit!"

"ZEPHYRUS!"

The man managed to open his wings and soften the fall but the injury made him veer dangerously to the left and crash into a pile of broken robots. Protesilaus leaped over to him, dropping his sword and laying his hands on his friend's wing and back. A faint red glow emitted from the touch points.

Tubbo jumped back down to the ground and stormed at them. He punched the pigman right in the chin, sending him flying across the room. He then tried to grab Zephyrus but the man had already slipped away and had apparently managed to pick up his friend's sword. "You motherfucker", the man said, "I'm going to take that fucking suit apart and then it's your turn."

"Zeph!" Protesilaus called from the side and Zephyrus tossed the sword to him without taking his eyes of off Tubbo. Then the man pulled up his sniper rifle again and Tubbo quickly covered his weak points with his armoured arms and jumped behind a pillar. He needed to disarm Zephyrus ASAP.

Behind them, Protesilaus was taking care of the last few robots. Tubbo didn't have much time, but he couldn't do anything until Zephyrus would have to reload, the guy was just too accurate...

"Oh fuck", said Zephyrus suddenly. "Prot, the door!"

They all turned to look at the exit.

There, at the door, was Ranboo, widened eyes flicking between Tubbo, the broken robots and the Syndicade. He was holding a bowl of biscuits and a cup of tea. "Uh... hello? Hi?"

Ranboo was actually NOT allowed in the vaults but how do you stop someone who can literally teleport anyway? Tubbo was glad to see him sneaking in, though.

"Ranboo! Help! They're trying to steal the weapons!"

"I..." Ranboo seemed frozen in place.

"Ranboo!" Tubbo was starting to get worried. His husband wasn't even taking any shelter. He drove the mech over to him to at least give him some protection.

"I just came to bring you cookies? Coz I thought maybe you were staying late to make the deadline and I thought--"

"Ranboo, I'm being attacked by supervillains right now!"

"Look, what if we just talked this through? I'm sure everybody here would rather not kill each other, right?" Ranboo was tall enough to lay a hand on Tubbo's shoulder even when he was wearing the mech suit which kind of pissed Tubbo off to be quite honest.

"Sure", said Protesilaus, "I love negotiating. Give us the weapons and their blueprints and we're more than happy to go."

"See? That's good, right? Tubbo, we can just let them have the weapons."

"Ranboo, sometimes you're a bit too quirky for my liking. Stop being quirky, help me fight them. You can use your... T-E-L-I-P-O-R-T-A-T-I-O-N powers."

Everybody just stared at him for a second.

"Shouldn't it be T-E-L-E?" said Protesilaus.

"Tubbo, you realise they can spell words too, you know, like most people who graduated elementary school?" said Ranboo.

"I'M SORRY! I'M TIRED, OKAY?"

“You could have just said ‘use your powers’, I mean, I know what my powers are.”

“IT'S BEEN A REALLY LONG DAY!“

"Zephyrus, I think this guy might be too much for us, I've never met such intimidating intellect", said Protesilaus. Zephyrus seemed to already be dying of laughter and his ally's words did not help.

"Now that's just rude," said Tubbo.

He'd barely finished his sentence when a horrible whistling sound hit them all like an invisible cargo train. After a second Tubbo managed to reassemble his braincells long enough to figure it out: "The fire alarm!"

Then he noticed the grin on his enemy's face. "Well, good job, everyone! Let's go home, Zephyrus", said Protesilaus cheerfully.

"Sure, mate."

The secret third member of the Syndicate, Tubbo suddenly remembered. The container they'd brought with them was gone too. Well, fuck. "This whole thing was a diversion??"

"Yep." The Protesilaus was already at the exit and Zephyrus was following right behind him. "See ya, losers!"

Something inside the vault exploded, making a muffled bang through the door, as if just to prove where exactly the fire had been lit.

"Oh man..." Tubbo flopped down on his seat. "I spent SO LONG building all those things!"

"Tubbo, we need to get out." Ranboo took him by the hand of his mech suit and pulled him along.

"No, we could still go in and save the--"

"No, Tubbo. Let's NOT run into the vault full of dangerous chemicals that's literally on fire, actually."

×××

By the time the fire department showed up, pink flames had enveloped the entire lab complex. The terrorists presumably had at least one of the prototypes now and all the remaining ones were a lost cause.

It's not like all the work was gone to waste, they'd made some backups at least, but it would be a pain to find a new lab and order all the extremely volatile chemicals again. So much paperwork. Tubbo was really not good at paperwork.

"Well, there goes my summer holidays I guess", he said.

"Yeah", said Ranboo. "There they go."

×××

"So... Lethe", said Techno at the next Syndicate meeting, "you never happened to mention you were friends with Professor Underscore."

Ranboo shifted nervously in his chair. "I mean... in my defence, you never said you were going to raid his lab?"

"True, true. It didn't seem like relevant information at the time I suppose. You know, because you're kinda more in the group just for the book club and Bake Off Fridays and not so much for the vigilante thing."

"How do you know Professor Underscore, Lethe?" asked Niki gently.

Ranboo looked around the table. He was fairly certain that the others wouldn't kill him for fraternizing with the enemy. He was pretty sure anyway. At least 70% sure.

Also they were all staring at him now.

"Uh... he's my... husband?"

The staring continued.

"Oh!" said Niki.

"Well", said Techno. "This is awkward."

"Uh huh?" Ranboo responded, his entire body tense and slightly wobbly.

"Techno", Phil said softly. Techno brushed him off.

"So uh, are you attached to him, Lethe?"

"Y-yes?" Ranboo straightened his back. "Yes." he said again, more firmly.

"Alright. I guess in the future we should try not to kill him then."

[tarithenurse]

In the eyes

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader Content: Feels. Angst. Loss. Love. Reference to killing (war and murder). Captivity. Sorrow. Hope. Anger. You name it, it’s there. A/N: I just want to say in my defence that this story isn’t my fault. Blame @maladaptive-ninja-returns​...it’s her birthday present (yes, I’m late)!

In the eyes

The steam is long gone together with your interest in the drink when you drain the cup of tea as the black-haired man gets up to leave. The cape hides what he’s missing – if only it was his leg instead – that way you wouldn’t have to keep the distance to the bare minimum, constantly risking him discovering that you’re following him. It doesn’t help to complain, though: he’s alive and mobile...and you have to watch your every move.

Volunteering for the assignment has probably been one of the more masochistic choices you’ve made, but you just couldn’t let the last Uchiha go yet.

For years, watching the kid grow older had kept a wound alive that no one knew about. It festered, saturating you with a sickening, rotten, sadness that never washed off but wasn’t detected by your peers. You should have let it heal. Should have moved on. But there had always been something keeping you from accepting what everyone else had decided must be true.

You weren’t the only one dealing with grief, of course. The life of a Leaf ninja was to say goodbye too soon and then to live with the numbing ache, renewed each time memories stirred.

Before the fourth war, the newfangled gossip of the dead returning was treated as ghost stories by most people until the climax of it all, when too many stood face to face with loved ones. Lost ones. And you were too weak to prevent the hope from being rekindled, so once peace was a reality and all the shinobis prepared to celebrate in the chaotic haze of the aftermath, you made a decision.

That is why, three seconds after the door closes behind Uchiha Sasuke, you get up...

...and sit right down again to avoid pressing against the sharp blade of the person suddenly appearing beside you.

The newcomer’s face is hidden partially under the wide-rimmed hat and the rest behind a dark and tattered cloak. Glancing down, a hand with purple-painted nails slips the kunai into the darkness of the cloak, leaving you with the knowledge that it’s there.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this is a shinobi. Where did you come from? Admittedly, there are others frequenting the little tea house because it’s a popular stop at a major crossroads...even if it mainly services those without national affiliations. None of the rest of the clientele reacts to the scene unfolding discreetly and you have no wish to catch their attention before you know what and who you’re dealing with.

“What do you want?”

It takes a second before you realize the question isn’t asked by you. Another one to recover from the smooth dusk that is the stranger’s voice. A voice with a hint of familiarity in the timbre which you decide must be your mind playing games.

“Nothing. I’m no enemy of yours,” you try to placate them, silently counting the seconds worth of head start separating you from Sasuke, “and I hold nothing of value...you should let me go.”

The tickle of a laugh surprises you. “If I’d wanted your possessions, they’d already be mine. I want answers, Konoha-girl.”

The headband you carry is hidden under your clothes, well out of sight from any prying eyes. Finally giving up on stalking your initial target, you turn your undivided attention to the person who has seated them-self before you.

The little skin you can see is pale, and a few black strands have escaped the slack ponytail and fallen in front of the face where only chin and jawline is visible. As if knowing your annoyance, the head is tipped slightly, allowing you to glimpse soft, gently smiling lips. Kissable. The thought jars you.

“I recommend you give up that wish.” No one should be able to hear the nervousness in your voice...but the stranger smirks. “My business is my own.”

“Not when it involves him,” they says, inclining the hat towards the door where Uchiha left.

You’re out to get him? You almost feel sorry for this fool who clearly doesn’t have a clue about the one-armed ninja’s identity.

“Don’t be mistaken,” the person smiles as if reading your thoughts, “I know who he is and what he’s capable of, after all...he’s my brother.”

Calmly meeting your gaze, the eyes meeting you flash red.

...

“Don’t look an Uchiha in the eyes”. It was the warning that was whispered into your ears as soon as you were big enough to run errands on your own. Naturally, you had to do it, and what met you was not as demonic as the warning stories had made you think – rather, they were kind, and wiser than the smooth face hinted at – although you never looked another Uchiha in the eyes just to be on the safe side.

It was impossible to discern the colour. Some days, they seemed leaden as if the rain clouds were gathered inside the boy too. A few times, in the morning when he watched where his fists struck the wood, the sparks from the cozy fire of the evening before still lingered in the warmest of black. What you loved the most, though, was when the gaze was locked onto infinity and they were soft like liquid.

...

Everything is different: the stuffy tea room with its noisy patrons has been replaced by somewhere deserted that seems to be carved out of grey stone.

How did I get here? Careful to move as little as possible, you take in the new surroundings only to find the place empty and with only one way in and out. A dull cold has already seeped into your feet as you stand there, lost as your bearings have nothing to latch on to – the only light is a torch in a wall sconce to your left.

Feet. They are bare, and a quick pat-down reveals that all of your weapons, your belt, and your headband have been stripped from you too. The sensation is uncanny, akin to nakedness. The logic behind it is obvious as it reduces the chances of a successful escape even if you were to make it out and establish a route.

On the other hand: you’re unharmed and unbound.

Turning, you have no doubt that the wooden door is locked but of course you go over to try, heart frozen near your throat when you push against it with your shoulder. Surprisingly, it does open and the screaming hinges sets the tiniest hairs on your body on end.

“Not wasting any time, Konoha-girl.”

You recognize the voice and the decorated nails on the hand that appears to pull open the door completely, and not just from the rest stop but from years of aching recollections that have been warped by watching Sasuke grow up with this man’s shadow lingering over his life. Over your life.

No. There’s no way. He died. Now your heart jackhammers a frenzied rhythm.

It’s a fool’s hope that powers the jab towards his neck. An idiot’s dream urging you to sprint past him. At least I tried, a bitter thought comments the moment both attempts are thwarted as a rib-crushing kick sends your tumbling backwards and you land sprawled in the middle of the room.

The ceiling is still spinning, it seems, when you sense the man’s presence loom over you. The fingers are cool (and surprisingly gentle) as the curl around the back of your skull, fingers digging into your hair to grant a tight grip to pull you closer by. Very close. A hand’s length separates the tips of your noses and you want to be oblivious to the way his mouth curves softly.

“You’re not leaving,” he whispers, “until I say so.”

Feeling and strength are beginning to return to your arms, including a sharp ache in your chest that grows with every shallow breath which you try to ignore. Should have restrained me, fool...and the thought dies there as everything shifts and the ground swallows your limbs.

“N-no...how...? No!”

He watches your struggles lazily before releasing his grip and sitting down next to you on the hard floor. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

But you did. Wait...no! You haven’t...it wasn’t you...it can’t have been...

“You lie about your identity,” you scoff, regretting the outburst immediately as pain stabs coldly into your side, “so excuse me for not trusting you on this either.” There is a little smile there on his lips, full of sadness and regret that makes your insides cringe momentarily until you have the breath to explain to him (or yourself) why it can’t be true: “Uchiha Itachi has been killed!”

“Yes...and then I was brought back.” He’s impossibly calm as though he’s simply discussing the weather. “Twice.”

Double reanimated? As if! The war had been a horror to live through and would have been without people facing their deceased comrades and family members on the battlefield. However, once destroyed or sealed, none of the animated dead had walked again and all of them had been dealt with properly in the end.

Looking at the ninja, none of the signs of reanimation are prominent. On the other hand...even if they had been, you might not even notice it now that you meet the man’s gaze and the liquid infinity there.

“I could show you...but I’m afraid your mind can’t take the strain in your current state,” the so-called Itachi explains.

Mind, your aching heart still reels from fear of being broken once more, this is all in my mind.

Zoning out everything else, you focus on the flow of chakra within. Calming it, soothing it, until abruptly forcing the flow to revert. It feels as if your very soul drops for a second but the moment it returns to its place, the world is no longer made up of lies and imaginary sensations...and you’re still lying on the ground in a room made of stone, your ribs feeling as if they’re speared by frost. The only improvement is that at least your limbs are free.

And Itachi? Yes, you have to call him that because deep within you can’t deny it any longer.

The official reports hadn’t been released by the time you left Konoha and you’re not high enough up in the ranks as a shinobi to get the juicy information unless it’s necessary for a mission – and since your missions tend to be B or simpler A rank...well, I guess my current mission’s a bust but this is an important discovery!

A silky chuckle refocuses your attention. “Very good...I suppose I must strengthen my genjutsu against you.”

He’s so close, you could touch him. Shifting to lean against the wall, he rests his arms casually on the knees and begins to pick at the chapping nail polish.

“No need to,” you bite back a groan as you roll over to sit up, “I take it that’s how you got me here?” Pretty eyes are watching your every move as he nods in agreement. “Hm. It’ll probably be useless to ask where we are, so...why? Why show yourself now?”

Sitting cross legged, you find the pain lessens if you pull your clothes and arms tightly around your torso, restricting the depth of your breathing. Broken or bent ribs? Not that it really matters. First of all, he would be able to beat you in a fight anyways; secondly, even if you got out of here you wouldn’t know where “here” is; and third (but not least), you don’t really want to run from him.

Rather than answer, Itachi stands up and holds out his left hand for you. Puzzled, you take it. Soft fingers curl around yours and he pulls you to your feet, studying your movements and the twisting facial expressions.

He doesn’t let go.

Not when he guides you out the door and into a hallway shaped of the same kind of stone as the room was made of. Carved from.

Not when he slows down at the sound of the squeaky breathing the pace forces from you.

There doesn’t seem to be many rooms along the winding path. Here and there a door bars the way or you catch a glimpse of a dead-end that looks as though the excavation was abandoned or even disrupted by cave-ins.

You do your best to memorize the path, but frankly, your mind is getting fuzzy from pain and exhaustion. You have no sense of time, just hunger and tiredness weighing you down to indicate the loss of many hours.

“Just a bit longer, [Y/N],” Itachi soothes.

When did I tell him my name? You want to ask or at least protest, but it would be a choice between talking or getting to wherever he’s leading you...and you doubt he’ll let you pause.

A few dozen steps later and a short flight of stairs up, he ushers you through a door into a room that looks like a mix between a kitchen and work station. A fire is the only light and heat source (the smoke venting up through a chimney too narrow to be an escape route), casting a warm glow over the solid wooden table and chairs. Everything else is hewn from whatever mountain you’re inside.

“Sit,” your captor finally releases the grip and points at a chair near the fire and you obediently do as you’re told.

There are shelves and niches almost hidden in the dancing shadows at first holding with boxes, bundles, and various utensils. He knows where everything is, grabbing a few items before returning and laying it out in the light. Bandages. His movements are fluid and elegant, just like you remembered.

He motions towards your upper body, then turns to tend to the fire. “Strip.”

“That’s really not -”

“Some of your ribs are broken. Restraining them will minimize the pain.”

He’s right. Of course he is.

With clipped movements, you pull off the layers until you hesitate at the poor excuse of a bra. Despite the now roaring fire, the cold from the stone still seeps into your body and raises waves of goosebumps and tightens your nipples. It would be easier to apply the bandages correctly without the last bit of clothing in the way, but right now it feels like the only shield left at your disposal as Itachi turns back to you.

“We’ll work around that,” the man offers softly.

He works quietly at first. Hands winding the linen bandages around you adeptly, pausing each time the ministration intensifies the pain and causes the discomfort to escape as stubborn hisses. The purple nail polish is mesmerizing – simultaneously a contrast to the horrific stories of a killer and perfectly fitting the pretty, nearly feminine, traits you see. Especially the eyes. Sure, they’re filled with a bottomless sadness that you don’t feel comfortable acknowledging, but they’re beautiful. Haunting.

“You’re staring,” he hums without looking up.

Shit. “No. I just -...let’s say you’re who you claim to be,” you try to recover, “why’re you back?”

“To be his watcher.”

“Says who?”

This time, he stops and looks you dead in the eyes. “Otsutsuki Hagoromo, the Sage of Six Paths.” There are very few proper comebacks to that, so your captor continues without giving you a chance to think of something, “Otsutsuki told me about the bonds of families and that it can transcend blood. He knows hatred can cause – and has caused – too much harm...but something rekindled his hope that it can be overcome.“

I don’t have an eye on Uchiha constantly, but... “Does Sasuke know?” Returning to his work, Itachi avoids your gaze. “He doesn’t...”

“He’s finally found peace and is on the right path...I can’t risk undoing it.”

Bullshit! “Or you’re a coward who doesn’t have the guts to fa-” the rest is cut off as soft fingers tighten around your throat.

Blood-red eyes pierce your mind, numbing you for an eternity or a millisecond.

...

They were a means to reach the goal but their words still hurt as you followed meekly in their footsteps. Snobbery. Disdain. Considering how proud your two team members clearly felt, they had very little to show for their reputation as Uchihas and frankly, it was your skills rather than theirs that ensured successful missions and still, you never once looked them in their face. Instead, you kept an eye out for two other of the clan.

Where one was, so would the other be. Thick as thieves, the boys had found a companionship that complemented their differences in the same manner as the sun and the moon. But as opposed to your teammates who swooned at the brightness of the sun, you were drawn to the night and the calmness it brought whenever that boy was near – each time he met your eyes, time became meaningless.

...

The two of you sit in silence as the steam from the soup caresses your face. Your mind is blank, slowly starting to pick up on the absence of stone walls – wood has replaced the cold surfaces, making it almost unbearably warm with the bandages underneath your layers of clothes – and a plethora of questions begin to press against your conscious only to be held back as most of your thoughts get derailed whenever you look at the man before you.

Without the hat and cloak to conceal him, it’s impossible to ignore all the details you’ve nurtured in your memory for ages, such as the slight pull of his lips as he thinks or the elegance of his movements now that he gets up and refills his bowl from the pot hanging over the fire.

“Why are you following Sasuke?”

You should be diplomatic. “I could ask you the same.” You’re not.

“I already told you,” Itachi shrugs.

“Well I...I don’t believe you.”

But you do. There’s no denying anymore that this man is who he claims to be and so, why would he lie about his purpose? The sad smile. The quiet mannerisms. The idea that Itachi would somehow transcend death to watch over his little brother? That’s a mysterious intricacy that fits with your memories of him from before that night.

“You do...but something else is bothering you.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Am I not what you expected?”

No, you’re not. However, he’s what you remember with a layer of sorrow added on top. He doesn’t get to be sad. The little spark of anger is what you need. You nurse it, feed it until it flares up hot and bright and consumes your regrets and self-pity.

“Expected? I don’t know what I expected from someone like you!” Your voice is rising, shaking with years of frustration. “Clan killer. Murderer. I never told anyone but I was in love with an Uchiha! That night, I’d gone to bed, finally sure that I was gonna tell him but when I woke up...” Something inside you had broken that day and it still hurts now. “They told me how you’d left Sasuke alive...but the boy I loved was gone and no one knew I was mourning. Each time I saw him -” you can’t hold back a strangled sound and you realize, you’re crying -”I saw the ghost of...” The bowl of floating vegetables looks blurry until you blink angrily. “Ugh! But what does a teenager know of love, right? They’ll grow up. Get over it. Except I knew you were out there still and that you had all the answers. Why? The Itachi I remember wasn’t a mindless monster! I was told a story, but it doesn’t make any sense. If all the monster wanted was power then why spare Sasuke? Why did everyone else have to die?”

The inhalations are shallow and rapid, making you dizzy as you cling to the table and the spoon. It burns in your lungs and cheeks.

“I am sorry for the pain, I’ve caused you.”

Your gaze snaps to his face and you know he’s speaking the truth but it doesn’t matter right now.

“Sorry? Sorry?! You don’t get to be sorry! I missed y-...the boy, I loved was gone and it took ages before I could let go and stop mourning, finally accepting the truth had died with you and now...now you’re here? And it’s all back and I don’t understand! How could you?” Itachi doesn’t flinch as you launch the bowl towards him – he doesn’t have to because your aim is off and it clatters to the floor in a shower of shards and wasted food after hitting the wall behind him. “How? The boy I loved was not a monster! He wouldn’t do what they s-”

The echoes of your wheezing shouts ring through the room after the abrupt stop. Holding your breath, you wait for the ground to swallow you whole or for the man at the other end of the table to react and the fear is colder than the burning in your chest.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” Itachi eventually whispers, “they were just people who had been wronged and misguided until their arrogance made them blind.”

What? That’s not exactly what you had expected. Without explaining further, your captor gets up, handing you his bowl of food before beginning to clean the mess you’ve made.

“Don’t...I’ll get tha-” you begin.

He only has to look at you.

...

The dew had soaked your toes, cooling and soothing them after each kick that you landed on the wood stump. Pine. The new splinters refreshed the scent as they fell to the ground and you knew that birds would rummage through them in the hope of finding a morning snack once the training grounds were free of people again – they were already gathering at the edge of the clearing except for where Itachi stood.

The realization made you stop mid-kick, gaze locked with his and heart fluttering in your chest. How long had he stood there?

“They’re wrong.” You could barely believe he was talking to you. “Your teammates...don’t listen to what they say.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Itachi was gone and maybe it had all been your imagination running free.

...

Sitting up abruptly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to get used to the low light of the dying embers. Where am I?

Salt and drying seaweed is heavy in the air, somehow worming its way into what appears to be yet another room of stone. No...it’s a cave. You’re sitting on a bedroll splayed out onto the sand filling the place and you have no memory of arriving.

The dark form on the other side of the fire pit makes no move as you slip a hand underneath your shirt to confirm what you already know: the bandages are gone and there’s only a muted tenderness as you prod at the ribs. How long has it been?

“You’re safe,” Itachi’s gentle voice assures, and you feel your pulse slow despite the ominous situation, “go back to sleep.”

Yes. Sleep...hang on! Shaking your head, you fight the urge to succumb to the fuzziness that weighs your thoughts. “Why’re you doing this?” you mumble.

It doesn’t make sense why the man wouldn’t simply get the answers he want and then dispose of you or at the very least leave you locked up somewhere while he keeps following Sasuke from the shadows. Instead, your captor has put an effort into keeping you comfortable. Feeding you.

“I remember you.” His eyes reflect the red coals as they burn into your soul all over again. “Memories don’t do your justice, though.”

...

There is no world beyond the walls of the garden but a red sheet of sky dotted with storm clouds. The sliding doors have been pushed aside, opening the hallway to the view, and you know the wood beneath your bare feet should be silky from decades of use. You can’t feel it. There are no scents either, no breeze to toy with the soft fabric of your yukata, nor insects clicking from the rhododendron.

“This isn’t real.”

“No,” Itachi confirms from behind you, “but here I can create what you need. Who you need.”

Turning at last, there’s no reason to shy away from meeting his gaze even if it matches the fake sky. He looks real – as opposed to the familiarity of the home of your childhood that surrounds the two of you – and the ghost of a smile kindly tries to hide the sadness.

“...need. For what?”

The black strands falling into his face are strangely dull in the nightmarish light. “Closure.”

“That’s not possible.”

Wanting to leave, to run away and avoid what Itachi intends, you find yourself rooted in place by an invisible force. Even turning your face away is impossible and you pray that he doesn’t understand the well of emotions he must be able to see in your eyes.

“This is a chance for you to say goodbye to the one I killed. The one you...love,” he pauses to scrutinize your expression and you try to remain neutral, “because you do. You still love him.”

“You have no right...” swallowing hard, you fight to keep the words back, “no right t-to claim to know what I need!” Finally, you manage to close your eyes but they snap open again at the touch of his fingertips on your forehead. “This isn’t something you get to fix like -”

...

The world has shifted again and you’re back in the ocean side cave. You can feel how uneven the sand is under your knees and shins even with the bedroll to soften the press and some some the grains have found their way in between your toes...but none of that matters because Itachi is still right before you, his fingers gently resting on your brow.

A pop-and-crackle from the fire pit is the only sound other than your shallow breathing. You know, he knows. Eyes widened in nigh-comedic understanding, it’s as if he sees you for the first time.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N].”

You barely manage to whisper, “for what?”

His fingertips send shivers along your spine as they trace a path, allowing him to cradle the back of your neck in his palm.

“Everything” Itachi’s lips brush your cheek, “for breaking your heart in so many ways and for making you think your love was unrequited.”

[the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo]

Missed Opportunities - Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 2

Here it is! I'm managed to whip up another part to this story. I hope you all enjoy this next bit!

If you missed out on Part 1, it's here.

Word Count: 2300 and some change

-----

Side Note: Obviously, I have taken some liberties with the plot and timeline of TFATWS. So this will be loosely based on the timings of what has happened, but will not be a chronological order of events occurred.

Much love to you, and thank you for the inspiration! And yes, there will be a Part 3 because this was more of a set-up chapter. So hopefully you won't be too disappointed with this one.

~Sandra~

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As things turned out, your conversation with Bucky and Sam went surprisingly well. Once you were finally able to say your own piece and explain the entire story, a lightbulb seemed to have gone off within both of them.

Sam, of course, was the most understanding, realizing that the reaction Zemo had was surely due to the intense trauma of what happened. He went on to explain; he had seen those types of emotional outbursts between complete strangers who had similar experiences when The Blip happened. They would come into support groups to tell their own stories, once upon a time when the world began trying to make sense of what happened.

He said it was normal. And Sam was right, he's always right. It was a perfectly logical explanation, and those are the things you look for and stood by.

Except, this.

Nothing about Zemo's reaction felt normal. The connection upon seeing him again twisted up your insides and set your nerve endings on fire. None of your previous interactions ever gave you pause like this. No, this was different. Seeing the raw emotion on his face. The intensity of how closely he wrapped you into his body, as if he were trying to consume your entire being. You were held so closely to him, you could felt the beat of his heart, hear the raggedness of his breath, and sense the tremors beneath his fingertips.

Clearly what happened had changed you both. It would be hard not to given the enormity of the event. Again, you tried to think back to your time visiting him over the past couple of years in prison. Was there always a connection between you? Simmering beneath the surface? And The Blip was simply the catalyst to uncovering something hidden? You scoffed. Now you were just entertaining nonsense. Yes, it was emotional, but this was Zemo we're talking about. There's always a reasoning behind his actions, and they're usually executed in ways that only benefit him.

And just like that, logic and sanity had finally returned to you, like a cold bucket of ice water dowsing you over the head.

You remember looking to Bucky after Sam had finished his explanation and acceptance of everything that had transpired. You had sagged in relief noticing he had taken the information in stride and was no long on the defensive. However, in the following days after, you would always catch him now and again eyeing Zemo with some sort of suspicion. You figured with how manipulative the slightly unhinged genius could be, James was simply keeping a watchful eye on him. And why should he? We all should. Zemo was not to be trusted, and yet - deep down, you felt as if you were lying to yourself. That when push came to shove, you could trust him.

And that scared you.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

All of you were gathered around the kitchen island discussing tactics on where to locate Karli. Bucky had pitched we should be looking in isolated and abandoned areas, but Sam had different feelings on the subject. He felt they should be looking in more highly populated areas, as he believed they would want to try and blend in with the community like normal citizens.

So of course they start bickering, again.

You wanted to roll your eyes at them in utter exasperation, but held back. Instead you settle for a face palm as you continue to map out possible routes Karli and the Flag-Smasher may travel to stay accessible, but not completely visible to the public eye.

As you were zooming into a particular area that looked promising, you felt the brush of someone's hand against yours to the right of where you were sitting.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was. Sam and Bucky were still debating who's idea would bring around to most promising results in the short amount of time we had before Karli decided to strike again.

You peered up at Zemo thinking he was hovering to catch a glimpse of what you were working on, but instead you were surprised to see he had simply poured you a cup of tea and set it next to you.

The brush of the hand was deliberate though. This you knew for a fact. Over the past few days since your little reunion, you noticed Zemo had been silently giving you brief bouts of physical contact. Nothing overtly sexual in nature. In fact, they were quite light and fleeting. Sometimes, it was a brush of his hand against yours, a soft touch at your lower back or the slide of his fingers against a hip as he walked past you.

You weren't quite sure what to make of the actions. They certainly didn't disrupt you, but your body always took immediate notice when he did it.

The chair you were sitting in had swiveled when you went to look at Zemo. You had planned on quietly thanking him, but he had already moved to the opposite side of the island to observe the land markings Sam had drawn up on a paper map.

You gently picked up the tea cup and brought it to your lips. The warmth of the tea emanating from the cup was a balm for your hands. Before taking a sip, you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent of the tea. Ah. Cherry blossom. Apparently, a favorite of his according to James.

When you opened your eyes, Zemo was now watching you. You tilted your head to the side and smiled graciously at him, mouthing a 'Thank you' in reply to his kind gesture.

The corner of his lip twitched up in response to your thanks, nodding back at you. He held his gaze as you took a sip of the tea.

Your eyebrows shot up as you swallowed the tea. It was quite delicious. You pointed to the cup and nodded your head up and down in quick succession to show your appreciation.

You could tell Zemo was holding in a chuckle, but refrained from expressing himself fully. You had narrowed your eyes, and thought about calling him out on it, but ultimately decided against it. Instead you motion your head to Sam and Bucky acknowledging their ridiculousness. Zemo just dismissed them with a, 'What did you expect?' type of look.

Finally you had enough of the two knuckle-heads on the other side of the kitchen and decided to intervene on their behalf otherwise they would never accomplish anything today.

"You guys planning on coming to a conclusion any time soon, or should I start selling tickets to this show?"

James stopped his rant and turned to you, "He started it," pointing his finger at Sam. "Sam just doesn't want to admit that my prospective places have added value that his don't."

"Now wait, that's not entirely true Bucky. I just think -," Sam started in again, but you had cut him off before he could finish.

"For the love of - how old are you two? It amazes me Steve got as much done as he did with you two around," you shook your head in feigned disbelief.

You might have felt bad about your slight outburst, but it was absolutely worth it to witness the sheepish expressions on both Sam and Bucky's faces. You wished you had snapped a picture. Definitely would have made it your new lock screen on your phone.

"If it's okay, I'd actually like to offer a third option," you said, motioning them over with a flourish wave of your hands.

As Sam and Bucky moved over to you, you shifted your eyeline to Zemo, "You too Zemo. Let's get your opinion on this as well since you are a resident to the area and more familiar with its surroundings than we are."

Zemo rose from his place and came to rest at your side, hovering, but not in a suffocating manner.

Even though Zemo had kept a reasonable amount of distance between you, Bucky seemed to show some displeasure as you saw him scoot him a bit out of the way as he tried to put some distance between the two of you.

You bit back a comment in favor of going over what you had discovered and turned to Sam, "I know we want to locate Karli as quickly as possible, but there are too many variables to account for when scouting buildings that they could be hiding out in. I propose we search in hidden pathways that could quickly get the Flag-Smashers in and out of different parts of the city without being readily detected."

"Alright, that does make sense, so what are you suggesting?" Sam tilted his head in agreement before gesturing for you to continue.

"Take a look at this map," you swipe your hand up the computer screen to show a holographic image of an underground rail system.

"Those look like the old track lines from a railway project that was never completed. If I remember correctly, the government abandoned the project when they ran out of money. Most of the tunnels were built, but never quite finished," Zemo interjected.

"Exactly," you turned to him beaming.

You moved your hands animatedly as you were excited by this prospect, "These tunnels travel throughout the entire city. Karli and the rest of the Flag-Smashers can easily maneuver where they need to with these routes. If I were to put money on it, I'd bet you could find their insignias left on the walls of the tunnels below as a potential guide that could -"

"That could lead us straight to their hideout," Zemo finished, smiling with what could be described as something akin to pride, clearly impressed with the astute observation you made.

"I see where you're going with this. You know, you might be onto something. Especially with our truncated time table," Sam chimed in. "Bucky? What do you think?"

You turned your chair around so you could face the three of them fully.

"Yeah, I agree. I think there's a legitimate chance we could find some clues at the very least," Bucky replied, leaning in over your left shoulder to get a closer look at the image.

Memorizing it most likely.

"If I may suggest, here?" Zemo said, pointing to a location not far from them.

You saw Sam and Bucky turn to each and nod in agreement of the starting point.

"That's good. It's also close to one of the last places we spotted Karli, so it makes sense to check it out first before branching off somewhere deeper," Sam assented.

You turn back around and start typing on the keyboard. A few moments later a ping erupted from everyone's phone.

"I sent the map to all of us, so we each have a copy," you stated.

You closed the laptop and hopped off the chair you had been sitting in, packing your stuff up into your backpack off to the side.

"Whoa. Whoa. What are you doing?" Bucky said, placing his vibranium arm on your shoulder to pause your movements.

"Getting ready to go?" you questioned slowly, as if your actions weren't obvious.

"You're not coming with us," James stated sternly.

You turned to look at Sam.

"Listen, Bucky's right," Sam answered. You saw him hold his hands up in the air and shrug before placing a hand on your shoulder before continuing, "I know, it's a shocker, having Buck and I agree on something - but when it comes to your safety, we both feel the same."

You chewed on your inner cheek, knowing this was going to most likely be a losing battle. You pursed your lips, closed your eyes slowly, and sighed before lolling your head to the side in defeat.

Sam grinned knowing he won and dropped his hand from your shoulder, as he left the kitchen to go get his gear.

Bucky came up from behind you and gave you a quick hug and kiss on the head.

"Thank you," James murmured before moving to the door.

"You can't fault them for caring," Zemo said, voice carrying softly through the air.

You pivoted around to where Zemo was, watching him adjust his holsters and making a move for his coat.

"I know," you begrudgingly admit.

Zemo put on his coat and walked over to stand in front of you.

"It may not be completely dangerous, but there's always a chance, and it's not one your friends are willing to take with you," Zemo stated.

You drop your head slightly to stare at the floor. He was right. Sam and Bucky just wanted to look out for you, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be helpful down there. You do know some self defense. You spent 10 years around Steve and various Avengers over time, it's not like you weren't going to pick anything up.

"Zemo let's go," Sam said briskly, as he walked past them to meet Bucky at the front door.

You lifted your head up and saw Zemo give a curt nod to Sam before focusing his attention back on you.

Zemo started to walk by you, but paused to lean into, grabbing your wrist to gently rub his thumb over your pulse point and whisper, "And neither am I."

With that, he abruptly walked off to join Sam and James.

Your wrist was tingling with sensation even after Zemo had left your side.

Before they all left, you managed lean over the island to strangle out, "Please play nice with each other and come back in one piece!"

You could hear the huffs of laughter as they left and the door clicked shut behind them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[makebank]

secrets & suds

request: long request but to summarize jj is involved with a kook but hasn’t moved past hooking up, he gets in trouble for pope sinking the boat, and she decides to help out. 

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of smut but none, cussing, typos, angst, fluff

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as he throws his shirt over his disheveled head. His skin is slightly damp and glistening and some of his tufts of hair plastered to his forehead. “Gotta bounce, see you tomorrow?”

You beam at the blond from across the room and send him a smirk, “You always do”. He rushes out of your house just before dawn. JJ was always good about making sure to leave before your parents woke up, specifically your dad. You never minded the class division, but it was easy to say from your spot on the kook throne. You take a moment to regain your breath then toss yourself back onto your silky king size bed. Your satin pajama set lay wrinkled off the side of your bed, you knew he was going to love ripping off the matching outfit as soon as he saw you. 

For some time now you and JJ have had a little arrangement. And by arrangement that meant he came over most nights to fool around. Sometimes you’d get him to watch a movie or cuddle, but it was always interrupted by your parents waking up or his friends texting him for something. You weren’t exactly sure when you started to fall for the troublemaker, but it came with ease. He seemed so rough and mysterious, which is what amplified your want for him in the first place. But after closer observation, he is kind, gentle, and would do anything for you. Of course you knew it would never happen. He is too caught up in the division and himself to even want anything more than this. Not that you don’t love the time you get with him, but you crave more. 

You sigh as you stand up wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe. Peering out of your bedroom window, you watch JJ sprint across your lawn and expertly hop the high gate. 

-

Alternating between mindlessly scrolling through your phone and checking out your window, you grow impatient. JJ had never missed coming over without texting. You were worried something happened or maybe he was just bored of you. It was getting late, so you send a single text hoping he was okay and try to lull yourself to sleep.

-

The next morning you wake up and for a moment your fears weren’t there. Slowly blinking your eyes open, it all comes back to you. You reach for your phone hoping for some relief. To your dismay no new messages were from him. You jump out of bed and rush to take a quick shower. Some slight snooping wouldn’t hurt. 

You definitely weren’t close with any of JJ’s friends, but you did know where to find them. You enter the Wreck looking overwhelming overdressed in your designer shoes and this season’s newest sundress. You find a vacant booth and make yourself cozy until a curly haired girl you recognize as one of his best friends comes to get your drink order. After she introduces herself, it clicks. Kiara right you had a class with her freshman year of high school. Hm small world. She comes back with your coffee and asks what you’d like to order.

“Have you seen JJ lately?” you awkwardly ask. She shoots you a confused look before settling into a glare. “What’s it to you?” You stumble on your words, “Oh… nothing. He just normally mows our lawn on Wednesday mornings, but he didn’t show up. Just thought I’d ask”. She seems semi satisfied with your answer and doesn’t press for more detail. “Well, he’s busy. Not that it’s any of your business anyway. So do you want something to eat or not?” You weren’t sure why she was being so hostile it's not like you two ever had any direct problems. Maybe she was just being protective of her friend. You weren’t going to take it to heart. 

You slump down in your seat resigning to the fact you weren’t going to get any answers from her. “No, I think I’m good with just this. Thanks”. She huffs whatever and walks away. Just as you're about to leave you see a frantic boy rush up to the counter to Kiara. You knew it was Pope from the pictures JJ has shown you. He looks like he’s on the verge of meltdown. 

“I can’t believe JJ covered for me. Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. I feel so bad! What do I do?” He’s running a mile a minute and Kiara tells him to lower his voice. She brings him into the back room to comfort him away from eavesdropping ears. However, you heard it all and can’t comprehend what happened that he would owe that much money. Nonetheless, you conclude that you’re going to find a way to help him, wherever he is. You drop a couple twenties leaving a hefty tip and rush out of the restaurant. 

Walking down the street you bump into the three bozos that rule your side of the island. They ogle you and shout their vulgar ‘compliments’ at you. You scoff but are well accustomed to their barbarian-like nature. As you strut away, you overhear Rafe yelling at Topper. “Dude, get over the boat! You won’t even hit on y/n with us. That Maybank kid will have to pay one way or another”. What was with today and perfect timing? You thought you were going to have to dig a little deeper.

You walk home to think of a plan. You had lots of money, but your parents would notice if you took that big of a chunk out without something nice to show in return. There was no way you could get that much, but you could find a way to get fifty percent. That would be enough to get the authorities off his back and give you time to talk down the Thorton’s. You decide you could easily sneak a couple thousand without your parents noticing, but you were going to have to figure out a way to come up with the rest. 

It dawns on you after spending all your childhood watching teen rom coms. A car wash! Everyone was always searching for one after a storm. Plus, it wouldn’t take much but a simple tweet and an instagram story to have people lining the block. You immediately text the girls’ group chat to set the plan for tomorrow. 

- 

You wake up with a spring in your step ready to put your plan into action. You frown a little knowing it was another day with no word from JJ. You hope he’s safe and just taking time to himself. 

Putting on your skimpiest bikini and shorts you gawk at yourself in the mirror. It’s not like you had a problem with showing yourself off, you just knew the attention you were in for today regardless. You were doing this for JJ though, you wanted to help him out and show him there’s a lot more to you than having money and pretending to be perfect. 

You greet all your friends and start setting up. As cars start to line up, you can’t help but giggle to yourself thinking of the stereotypical ‘Cherry Pie’ or “Milkshakes’ playing in the background of every car wash scene. You get to work flirting and scrubbing cars as you all work for every dollar. The nice thing about Figure 8 was that they were willing to spend whatever. Just as you were about to head to another car you hear someone shouting your name.

You whip around to see a red faced and furious JJ. “You’re alive!” You try to lighten the tension. “What the hell are you doing y/n?” You frown in confusion. “What do you mean? A car wash?” He doesn’t seem satisfied with your sarcasm. “You're half naked out here and all these guys can’t keep their hands to themselves,”  he remarks annoyed while flailing his arms. You grin for a moment realizing he’s jealous, then it dawns on you, “First of all, you just disappeared off the face of the earth for days. No text or anything. Second, since when you do you care about what other guys say to me?” He crosses his arms over his body clearly irritated by your logical retort. “It’s none of your business. And I don’t care”. All the energy drains from you at the impact of his words. “Fine. Then keep not caring and leave me alone.” You swivel around stalking off to another car leaving him alone. Even if he didn’t want you, you were determined to finish your job and then move on.

You turn over your shoulder to see JJ storming off in the other direction. Your heart aches at seeing him actually leave. At least you knew he was breathing now. The next car pulls up with Pope in it. “What was that all about?” Your eyes widen at one of his friends catching you. He chuckles, “It’s okay I know about you guys. He tells me everything”. You soften knowing you weren’t a complete secret. “I’m not sure. He’s upset with me though.” He sends you an empathetic smile, “Don’t worry. He’s dealing with a lot right now. He’ll cool down eventually.” You nod your head, “Yeah, I heard about that. That’s actually what this is all for,” you admit sheepishly. Pope’s eyebrows raise with confusion. “My mom had me bring the car, because she said it was raising money for the high school”. Yikes. “That’s my bad. I kinda said it was for whatever people would listen to, so people would come”. He laughs, “Quick thinking y/l/n. You want some help?” Now it's your turn to laugh. “I’m sure we could find you some short shorts somewhere.” He parks the car off to the side and grabs a sponge to contribute. 

The rest of the day goes by with a breeze while joking with Pope and the girls. The last car drives off and you all plop on the curb for a break. You dry off your hands and start counting the money. You could almost cry happy tears. You raised over four thousand dollars. You thank everyone and promise to buy them mimosas at brunch tomorrow. For spoiled rich kids, they sure knew how to help someone in need. Pope pulls you into a side hug, “Thanks for doing this for him”. You smile squeezing him back, “thanks for helping”. 

After putting on some real clothes you stalk off to the Thorton’s. They promise they’ll leave JJ alone about the couple thousand left so it can be paid off slowly, now that they have a down payment for another boat. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you did all you could. 

-

JJ was relaxing at John B.'s when he got a call. After hanging up, he’s elated and full of energy. He yells to the pogues, “Guys they said I don’t have to serve any time for the boat!” They all jump up excited and ask how. “They said over half of the debt has been paid, so they said I’ll have to sign up for some payment plan. But this means it won’t be on my record or anything”. They all join him in a group hug congratulating him. John B. pipes up, “Who paid it?” JJ stops for a moment considering that it wasn’t just magic, and the only person he knew that had money that knew was Kie. “Did you have your parents do it Kie? I seriously can’t thank you enough,” he picks her up into a giant hug. She shakes her head once he lets her down. “No, I wish I could’ve though. Sorry man.” 

Pope is smirking thinking about his day yesterday trying not to blow his cover. JJ notices. “What do you know, Pope?” He just shakes his head not budging. JJ throws his arm around his neck putting him into a choke hold wrestling move. Kie and John B. are enjoying watching them fight until Pope taps out. “Fine! It was y/n. That’s what the whole giant parade of cars getting washed was”. JJ freezes speechless. He turns on his heels and instantly busts out of the chateau. 

Meanwhile, you’re getting into comfy clothes preparing yourself for a lonely movie marathon tonight. Just as you settle into your thousand thread count sheets, your door swings open making you jump. “JJ you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?” He crosses your abnormally large room beelining to you. He grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss. Your hand naturally falls to his arm as you allow him to passionately lead your lips. You pull away gasping for air. “What was that for?” 

He sits down next to you. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry for disappearing and not texting you. And I’m really sorry for being such a dick yesterday at the car wash. I didn’t know you were doing all that for me. Either way though I shouldn’t have acted like that. Thank you for what you did. It means a lot. I’ll repay you I promise”. You smile rubbing your thumb against his hand. “I forgive you. You don’t need to repay me, we worked for it. You were right though, it wasn’t my business”. He shakes his head, “I wasn’t right. I like you a lot. I’m stupid for not saying it before. I just didn’t know how to tell you about all my issues and thought I’d scare you off.”

You lean over kissing him on his cheek to soothe his obvious tension. “You can’t scare me off. And I really like you too. You can trust me with your secrets, but I’ll try not to meddle anymore if you don’t want to tell me.” Grabbing your arms to scoot you closer, he brings you in for another long and deep kiss. “Don’t worry. You can know all my secrets now,” he winks as he pulls his shirt off easing you back onto the bed. 

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