#that was the most boring and pointless meeting I’ve been to

[simple-persica]

Have some phone doodles from a meeting that I was obviously paying very close attention to.

Plus these bc I was coping with being tired and hungry

[baby-tini]

Hello, I’ve been following you for a long time and I like the way you write!! How do you think Mikey on the Toman/Canto/Manila/Motorcycle Racer scale would react to his girlfriend being possessive of him, jealous of everyone, and demanding a lot of attention? something like if she wrote “I don’t care where you are or what you are doing, come to me,” how would he react to this? thank you in advance!

TW- Implied Abuse, possessive behaviour on both sides.

Toman\OG Timeline- It pisses him off, greatly. He's a very busy man, meaning he can't give you constant attention and the sooner you get that through your pretty head, the easier it'll be for him too get home quicker. When he has too consistently stop meetings because you're constantly blowing up his phone, it makes everything go a lot slower. So he just started turning off his phone and he dares you too start an argument about it when he gets home so he can teach you the manners and patience that you were never clearly taught. Also the insecurity of constantly being jealous pisses him off even more, he obviously loves you if he's putting up with your bullshit. Does he have too fuck you in front of all his men? Because he will, if it'll stop your constant calls and texts, don't tempt him. Manila- He thinks it's cute, and by it, I mean your audacity too constantly blow up his phone. He's with you constantly, so there's no one too get jealous of because you're the only person he has interactions with. He's fine with your need for constant attention because he gets bored and would rather fuck you and have a good time rather then argue about or over pointless shit. If you guys are out, which is pretty rare, and you get possessive? Not gonna lie, he thinks that shit is pretty hot and he'll go as far as too egg you on. But if you wanna shove your tongue down his throat anytime someone tries too flirt with him, he's all go with it, he'll even let you run your hands up his shirt as you guys make-out. Kanto- He does not like that, at all. Who do you think you are too be blowing up his phone when he's busy? He has stuff too do, you are not his main priority and he makes that known, so.. if he has too get a little physical with you, he will. If you try and start pointless arguments because he missed your call, you won't be hearing from him for a while. He'll have his phone turned off and you won't have anyway of getting in contact with him. When you ask his men, they tell you they don't know where he is or who he's with, as instructed by Mikey himself. If your need for attention starts too show while he's in a meeting and you decide too just slip your hand up his thigh, he's slapping it away and taking you to your room, leaving you their so he can finish the meeting with no problem, then he'll come back and discipline you. Bonten- He doesn't really care, he's with you most of the time anyway. If he's in an important meeting and you pull some shit like that though? He's not gonna be too happy with you, and since your so worried about where he is all the time, he might purposely stay away for days. He doesn't really care for your jealousy issues, and by that I mean, he gets sick of that shit, it doesn't really make sense to him because if he wanted too be with someone else, he would be. He can be pretty hypocritical though, because he wants you too constantly send him update, he just gets annoyed when you do it. Street Racer- He thinks it's sweet that you're so possessive. It just shows him how much you love, in his head anyway. Because to him, you wouldn't constantly wanna be with him if you didn't love him, right? He does ensure you that, you have nothing too worry about, he would never leave you. He does pick up your constant calls and reply to your texts as quickly as possible, simply for the fact that he doesn't see it as a big deal and really doesn't wanna argue over a missed call. So, if he's really busy or thinks he might be occupied for a bit, he'll text you before-hand, letting you know he'll be out for a bit. He'll even send you updates, like he's getting food with friends or spending time with family.

[live-tweeting-hotg]

You Don't Think, Do You [Daemon x Reader]

summary: the princess of Dorne struggles to see eye to eye with the Rogue Prince.

warnings & content: heavy smut 18+ (minors dni), porn with little plot, non/dubcon, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, mean!dom!daemon, rough sex, fingering (fem receiving), p in v, creampie, titty slapping, he puts a sword to her neck, power imbalance, size kink, light breeding kink, degradation, dumbification, mentions of arranged marriage, rhaenyra? who's that (this is so nasty I'm not sure why I wrote this)

words: 2.5k

You let the heavy door shut swing behind you, feeling your annoyance threatening to bubble over. The crown princess of Dorne, regal, powerful, tremendously able… shipped off to this miserable rock to sign a perfunctory piece of paper. You wanted to scream, thought better of it, and let out a tight breath of air somewhere between a hiss and a sigh. 

It was almost like you were being punished for something, yet the entirely civil pretence of it meant you didn’t quite dare ask.

You stand in the room rigidly, exhausted, yet restless with a twitchy sort of tension. To your side, on the large sprawling table, you spot a set of ornate wine cups, fighting off the urge to smash one onto the ground. You were a guest, you reminded yourself, and the renewal of the treaty was necessary nonetheless. A pointless feat, but the prince seemed satisfied enough with the content, despite his bored demeanour at the meeting. 

The thought of him almost set you off again. He had spent the entire evening listening to you present the treaty with a raised brow, insisting that you explain every line to him in detail even though there wasn’t a single difference between this and the one preceding it. He smirked when you talked, scoffed when you paused, and spent the remaining time staring at the low cut of your dress. 

If this was in Dorne, you think you may have had his eyes cut out. 

The knock at your door was a welcome distraction to your agitation. You blink, realising you had spent a good few minutes standing in the middle of the empty room like an idiot, turning to answer the door. 

“Princess, I’ve just been made aware of the most interesting thing,” Daemon declares at you when you open the door, before you can even greet him. His frame almost obscures the entire doorway, the scabbard of his sword colliding loudly with the doorframe, leaving you with a strange sense of claustrophobia. He was disorientating, you decided.

“What,” you say back dumbly, after a brief pause, not entirely certain what else you could reply given the strange situation.

His frame slides forward without warning, and you move back instinctively as he lets himself into your— his— room. “I hear of unfavourable things in Sunspear,” he says, fixing you under his gaze. “I hear of treason, plots against the King…”

“Spies,” he finishes softly, face impassive, watching you intensely to gauge a reaction.

You are entirely lost. 

“I am unaware—” You begin, before he cuts you off again.

“Are you a spy, princess?” The words are soft, almost chiding, and you think you spot the hint of a smirk at his lips. 

You were so dizzy you almost felt nauseous. The context of this was absurd. He was in your room, alone and late, interrogating you whether you were spying— for who?! you wanted to scream. Your rising unease made it more and more difficult to be civil.

“Who would I be spying for?” you say, slowly, tone incredulous. “This is… most strange, and unfounded—” you find your voice rising steadily as your confusion gives way to indignation, and more annoyance. 

He hums, crosses his arms casually, and you could swear you saw his eyes twinkling. 

“—and insane!” you finish, throwing the word at him like a pointed rock. He cocks his head lazily and dodges it. 

“You’re getting very worked up over something unfounded, princess,” he remarks, uncrossing his arms, voice suddenly quieter as he stalks towards you. You don’t move back, because you want to slap him when he comes close enough. 

“If this is a jest, I fail to see the amusement,” you tell him sharply, the regal certainty seeping back into your stance, even as he towers over you. 

Up close, you notice the fine lines of his sharp, angular face, the eyes set deep into them and the coldness behind his haughty demeanour. When he takes another step towards you, you step back, suddenly uncertain.

“I think I just need to check, princess,” he says softly, almost apologetic. “if you’re carrying… anything untoward. It’ll be a formality.”

your anger flares. “I will not be subject to your ridiculous whims.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken. “It’s a simple search, princess. Hardly ridiculous.” 

“I don’t think—” your voice rises hotly, then falls flat as you’re interrupted by the sharp grate of his sword as he bares his blade, cocking his head almost thoughtfully, raising it to rest at the side of your neck. It is almost wider than your shoulder. 

“No,” he coos, smirking down at you. “you don’t think, do you.” He tilts his blade so it digs into the soft skin under your jawline. “I need to search you, princess. And I won’t ask again.”

He is clearly fucking insane, you realise. 

“…Alright,” you breathe out slowly, agreeably, the heat draining from your voice, and he hums appreciatively before sheathing his sword. 

“Turn around, princess. Arms out.” 

You stand rigidly as he moves behind you, feeling his large hands rest on your shoulders, practically breathing down your neck. A pool of dread settles in your stomach. You knew of his reputation, as did everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, but with you…?

He moves slowly, deliberately, down the length of your arms, his hand wide enough to almost circle it entirely. He returns to your waist, feeling the curve of your hips through your gown, tutting when you shift uncomfortably. “Behave,” he chides at you as he moves higher, practically palming your tits through your dress. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to deal out a harsh squeeze, huffing out a laugh as you flinch.

“I fear the princess is hiding too much,” he breathes into your ear, arm snaking around your waist as you stiffen uncomfortably, pressing you back against his firm chest. His free hand pushes down the neckline of your dress insistently. “I think she’ll need to bare some more loyalty to her prince.” 

Your face flushes as you swallow thickly. “This is improper,” you say weakly.

He shoves you hard from behind as you squeak in surprise, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Strip,” he said simply, face cold. His sword swings at his side.

You swallow again, staring at him, but he meets your gaze cooly with his strange violet eyes, watching you as you slowly unlace your dress, letting it fall to your feet with a soft thump. 

“The rest too,” he states softly, and you comply tensely, your face burning. You stare at the floor, completely bare before him as he crosses his arms again, drinking in your humiliation like a fine vintage. 

“A fine sight,” he hums appreciatively at last. You grit your teeth, sensing some vague end to his game, before he sighs again. “Forgive me for being thorough, princess.”

Your eyes widen as you hear his smirk. “Bend over the table.” 

“You can’t,” you blurt out without thinking, the colour draining from your cheeks. “Please, no—”

“You will bend over the table, or I will do it for you.” His voice is smooth and casual, as if he had been commenting on the weather. “And I promise it’ll hurt you a lot more.”

Your legs feel like lead. Your entire body feels like lead as you somehow walk yourself over, bending awkwardly over it. Like a slab of meat, you thought viciously. It is almost too high for you, and you’re left on your tiptoes, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles as your face burned. He comes up behind you, tutting. “You know what to do, princess. Legs apart.”

You feel your spine tingle viscerally as you comply, spreading yourself completely before him. The first strike catches you completely off guard as his hand comes down firmly on your bare cunt, forcing a choked scream out of you as your hips buck unconsciously from the contact. It burned your pride more than the stinging shock on your sex. Daemon only laughs as his hand finds the small of your back, shoving your hips back onto the edge of the table as you gasp in pain. 

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he mocks. “I think you need to be reminded how to behave, hm?” You yelp as he slaps you again, then another time for good measure, as you writhe and whimper under him, tears brimming your eyes. “All talk, aren’t you? Just won’t shut up in that hall, think you’re so fucking smart…” A slap landed directly on your bud, the pain making you scream out. 

The way he treated you, the painful stimulation, and the fact that he had you naked bent over a desk whilst he was fully dressed…

He slid a finger along your folds, laughing quietly to himself. “My little princess liked that, hm? My, you’ve made quite the mess.” You feel it as he spreads your growing wetness down your thigh, hips twitching at the sensitivity. You are suddenly somewhat grateful that he has your face pressed into the desk. 

“What?” he mocks again. “Nothing to say?” 

You open your mouth, ready with a retort before he shoves two thick fingers into your wet heat, ripping a pained moan from you. You were certainly wet enough, but the stretch still stung, especially with his uncaring force. 

“That’s more like it,” he snorted as he scissored his fingers, stretching you out, feeling inside you casually. “Nothing here, princess,” he hummed innocently as he curled his fingers into a particularly sensitive spot inside you, smirking as you tightened around him involuntarily, sobbing. “It’s a shame… I could have had you put in the dungeons for treason, hm? Then I’d take you on your knees, yeah? Maybe I still can… Just needs my cock in your throat to shut you up, my little whore…” 

Your mind swims uncomfortably. His voice in your ear, the cold wood grating against your abused breasts, his fingers, filling you up in the way yours never could, the wet sounds of him fucking into you… His free hand comes down to rub furious circles around your pearl, and you sob out his name. 

“Yeah, princess?” he groans into the soft shell of your ear. “You’re close, I feel you getting tighter. Come on then, fuck, my royal whore, come on my fingers…”

You come apart with a silent cry, arching your back into him, tears streaming down your face as he tears your peak from you. He fucks you through it lazily, his fingers pumping into you, slowing only when you whimper from the overstimulation. He wipes his hand on your thigh, not giving you a second to recover before he drags you back up by your hair. 

“I apologise for not believing you, princess,” he breathes into your ear, as your eyelids flutter. Distantly, you register the sound of him undoing his breeches, lowering them just enough to take out his thick, weeping cock, giving it a few impatient jerks. “You’ve proven yourself to be… quite innocent, on this matter. But it’s improper for a host to let his guest leave him feeling so empty, isn’t it?” 

You barely register his words, whimpering helplessly as he pulls your legs either side of him, your face coming to rest awkwardly on his chin. “You’re not even fucking listening, are you,” he huffs, rubbing soothing circles on your back, dipping his head closer to speak to you. “I was just telling how I’m going to fuck your dripping hole so fucking hard,” he groans, sheathing himself entirely into you with one rough thrust, “that you’ll feel it in your fucking throat.” 

You scream out at the pain as he holds you, shushing you as you cling to him, clawing at his back. You feel him through the haze, deep and firm, too big inside you, splitting you open. When the initial sharpness of the pain fades, you’re left with a strange ache deep inside you, contracting desperately around him. Daemon tests shallow thrusts into you, grunting into your ear as he lowers you onto his cock, slapping your breasts to watch them bounce. “I knew you fucking liked it, slut,” he groans, squeezing experimentally at your throat. You whimper incoherently, feeling him thrust inside with more force.

“Too… big,” you complain hazily, through a hiccup of smaller moans that he forced out of your mouth. The angle was cruel. He had lifted you up, then thrusted up into you from below, trapping you between your weight downwards and his cock upwards. His arms trapped you in, holding you to his much larger chest as he nuzzled into the crook of shoulder, laughing.

“Yeah, too big for you?” he mocks. “Hurts, does it?” Daemon bites into your shoulder, groaning into you as you squeeze around him. “We’ll just have to fuck you open until you learn to take your husband’s cock, hm?” 

You register his words dimly, unable to really do much about it as you stare up at him through dazed eyes, mouth hanging slightly open. 

He reaches down, cupping your cheek as he continues breaking you apart. “Heard that, princess? Why do you think they sent you here instead of anyone else, hm?” He laughs again when he hears you sob. “You’re crying? Fuck, I love that.” 

“I won’t…” you grit out, voice almost breaking.

“You will,” he insists sadistically, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek, licking at your tears. “see, they said you might not come willingly, but I suppose you won’t have a choice when I fuck a babe into you, yeah?” 

you whimper as he fucks into you with renewed vigour, your walls clenching involuntarily at his words. “So you can listen,” he groans into you, hand tightening in your hair to yank your head back. “keep doing that, yeah, good girl…” 

His free hand dips lower. With you impaled wide open on his cock, your bud is left vulnerably exposed, and he flicks at it mindlessly, drinking in your whines. “Gonna fuck my seed into you, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna fuck it so deep you’ll drip for days, my pretty little wife, such a good little wife for me…”

He slaps your tits once, twice, and then you’re spasming uncontrollably around his cock as your peak rips through you, feeling his warmth flood into you and drip down your thighs. You crumple into him, sobbing against his chest as he strokes your hair, shushing you. You feel his cock slip out of you as he picks you up gently, carrying you to the bed, stepping over your discarded clothes. 

You’re laid down onto the cushions softly, half-conscious, and Daemon wraps his arms around you from behind. “You might as well learn to like it, princess,” he hums into your ear as you’re flipped over into the bed, his hands on you again. “I don’t think I’ll be finished with you for a long time.” 

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love, chapter 6

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter seven ♥ summary: after the overlord meeting, zestial pulls you aside to talk to you like a grandpa about love. love? "Thou art in denial, little one." what a pointless observation. of course you aren't in love. ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: 5.8k ♥ pinterest board ♥ notes: alastor brushes reader's hair, zestial does NOT lock in ♥ no tag list rn :3

You wake up rather early to the feeling of Alastor shaking the bed. You groan. Why has he been welcoming himself into your room? When you peek, you notice his claws digging into the mattress to keep hold as he rocks the bed back and forth. "I'm awake," you sign with one weak hand.

Slowly letting go, the bed stops shaking. But the tears are still there. “And about time too, darling. I’ve been trying to wake you up for ten seconds.”

"What is it this time?" You ask, rubbing your hands across your face. "Tell me you have a good reason, please. I'm begging."

He leans and reaches out to gently ruffle your hair as if trying to annoy you further.

“My, someone’s rather grumpy so early in the morning. And I do have a good reason, my dear. I assure you of that.”

"Go on."

He claps his hands together before signing. "I've decided to take you with me, can you guess as to where?"

"I'm too tired for your games."

In a slight touch, he holds your back and guides you to sit up. "Guess. It's somewhere you loved going, for some reason."

Ah. Something you loved but Alastor hated.

"It's the overlord meeting today, isn't it?" You pipe up immediately. "And you're taking me?"

“Ah, my, how observant of you. You’re absolutely right, it is the overlord meeting today, and I am going to bring you with me.” He says, a smirk appearing on his face at your sudden guess, and he confirms the information immediately without hesitation. Ding ding ding. "And I know what you're thinking. You don’t need to worry about them accepting you or not, actually, the last time I went, they asked about you. Quite worried, they were.”

"Really?"

"No," he laughs. "I fibbed. But stand, you need to get ready."

You stand, sighing deeply. It's too early for all of this. While you head towards the bathroom, he opens your wardrobe, looking through the clothes he could dress you in. The bathroom door is slightly open, giving you some sort of comfort, knowing he will walk in rather than appear behind you. You run the brush through the end of your hair, biting the inside of your lip.

He quickly makes a small face at your wardrobe, realizing that most of your clothes are plain and boring; where were all the ones he made for you? He has half-a-mind to burn most of them and buy you all new ones.

He noticed the bathroom door was open as he looked through your clothes and heard you brushing your hair. Stepping forward, he watched the sight, and he smiled.

Your eyes immediately lock on his before you kick the door closed. And in a rare moment, you use your voice. "You're so weird, Alastor!"

He chuckles once you close the door on him, and he can hear your words from the other side. He huffs to himself, muttering. “I’m weird, darling? Now, now, that’s a harsh way of describing your favorite overlord, don’t you think?”

The lovely sound of your accent doesn't escape him. He lingers in it, standing in place with a growing smile before returning to the closet. He knows you'd hate if he lingered too long on your voice. You've trusted him enough to expose it to him. Now, which dress to pick?

His fingers run across the lace. You always looked good in lace. The red sleeves you would wear were his favorite. Do you have those here?

His ears perch when you knock on the wall.

"Which one are you going to pick?" With a brush in your hand and the other free, you continue. "Please let it be something cute. Don't make me match with you again."

“Ah, so you don’t want to match with me again?” He signs, raising a brow before stepping closer toward you, his smirk growing again. “But you looked absolutely to die for last time!”

"I know you think so," you roll your eyes. Your morning smile is more casual than it tends to be. "Imagine how silly it would be if we walked in wearing similar things. That's humiliating."

It's all teasing. More than humiliating, it would be hilarious.

He steps closer, not appreciating your words very much. A smirk appears on his face again as he gently grabs some of your hair between his fingers.

“Oh, don’t act all modest, darling. I know just how much you loved matching with me. You absolutely adored it.” He teases back, testing your tone, his smirk becoming more mischievous.

"Sure," You won't give him the satisfaction of knowing he's right. "Is that going to be your final decision, or do I get a say in my outfit?" You place the hairbrush on your dresser; he eyes it. He considering picking it up. But he quickly glances over at you once more, his smirk growing even wider than before

“My, look at you, all confident and stubborn. And I suppose I’ll let you have a choice in your outfit, after all. Give me a show!"

"Alright," You step past him, plucking certain dresses to remind you what they are. Red, red, red. Alright, maybe you're going to end up matching him. "Black? Would black satisfy you?"

He can see the exact moment you realize you would be matching with him regardless.

“Oh, don’t worry about satisfying me, darling. You always look lovely no matter what you wear. But maybe you should choose the other color.” He signs in a sarcastic yet still polite manner, crossing his arms as he watches your expression closely.

You make a clicking noise and flicker the hangers to the side. And there he spots it, a red dress with lace sleeves. Alastor's heart skips a beat. His eyebrows immediately furrow at the sensation. His chest tightened, but only for a moment. He needs to collect himself.

"That one," he stands beside you and touches it, running his fingers down it.

"This dress? It's so old." You laugh.

"Yes, this one. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you wearing it.” He said, taking a long moment to let his eyes thoroughly examine the dress before looking up at you again. “I still remember the first time you wore it, you looked absolutely lovely in it, darling. You still do.”

"I'll wear it then." You take it off the hanger and place it against your chest, testing the look in the standing mirror beside your bed. "It even looks old. But you like this style, don't you? I suppose the lace is a little contemporary, though."

You sign with one hand, something that always makes him smile. You would have to do that long ago when you didn't want him to know what you said. Now, he can understand it perfectly.

Without words, he walks over and stands next to you, staring at your reflection in the mirror. "Do you need help getting undressed?"

"What? No!"

But by his smile, you see that he was only joking.

You huff. "Turn around, or get out of here."

“My, my, so cruel.” He still turns away from you, giving you some privacy. He doesn't leave.

You swiftly remove your nightgown and go to your dresser for the underlayers. They're all folded neatly. Interesting. Your conclusion came quickly; he must have done that while you were sleeping. Was he watching you sleep? Of course he was.

The cotton underlayers hug you tightly. The red dress isn't as puffy as your usual ones. It's only three layers: a ruffle that appears at the bottom, the bodice, and then the overall, which shines red. There's a dip in the necklace down the center of your chest where your music can come through. The sleeves fall to your fingers, moving gently at your every movement. It still hasn't dawned on you why he noticed this dress specifically. You even give a childish swirl as you assess yourself.

You clap your hands.

He smiled brightly as he heard the rustling of clothes and fabric behind him, silently imagining what you were doing. He can almost see the exact expression on your face, ideal in his head, as you are doing so. You often have a light in your eyes when you show off your clothing to him. Old body language that he's always remembered.

The moment you clap, his smile grows wider again as he silently smiles and slowly turns around. As soon as he entirely turns, his eyes fall onto you.

“Looking as lovely as ever, darling.”

"Why, thank you." You curtsey, even going all in and crossing your ankles and dipping your head. You laugh before you look back up at him. His heart can't stop racing. Your courtesy has him silently cursing to himself at the sight; as you link eyes with him, he quickly forces a casual smile on his face as he stares at you.

“How polite! I’ve never seen you curtsy before.”

He says, trying to push down his senses.

"Courtesy of the era." You wave your hand dismissively, one of your most casual tendencies. "It fits the moment. Anyway, shall we be on our way?"

“Yes, yes, we should get going. They’ll be waiting for us after all, but before we go, I'm afraid I've forgotten something." Alastor drops his hands and takes a small step forward.

"Don't loom like that. It scares me."

“Oh, my darling, do you know that you get increasingly amusing every day? But I’m not going to do anything to you, I promise; I was just going to…help you with something, dear.” He looks you up and down for another moment. He quickly glances towards your dresser. Your eyes go up and down your body. Is your speaker dusty? Is it a ripped seam? He'd definitely catch something like that. A small patch of blood? No, there's no way you'd not notice.

His eyes follow yours as you analyze yourself.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that, don’t worry, darling. You look absolutely perfect.” Once again, his gaze shifted towards your dresser, and he walks towards it.

The hairbrush.

You scoff. "Really?"

"I just noticed your hair, do you mind?”

He said, gently picking up the hairbrush and staring at it momentarily, a smile still on his face. You hum.

"Go ahead, I won't stop you." You take a breath before turning around. Imagine how funny it would be if he just wacks you with it.

He stands behind you closely, looks at your hair, and raises the hairbrush to begin brushing it.

Him touching you feels so natural. There's even a softened tone to your music, stereotypical romantic tunes. He rolls his eyes. Where's the jazz?

He can practically sense the enjoyment radiating off of you. His brushes are gradual and gentle.

He's stalling. You reach over my head and grab his wrist, turning your body. "That's enough, my love. Are you satisfied? Let's get going."

He slowly stops, raises a brow, and lowers the hairbrush back to his side. “Oh, you have no patience this morning, my love. Don’t be in such a rush.”

You give him a small smile, leaning in, your eyes widening. "You're the one that woke me up. Don't tell me the meeting isn't for a long time."

“No, no, the meeting is early, we do have to get going soon. But we do could play with the clock…” He mimics your usual behavior by waving his hand dismissively.

"Alastor. Come on, now I'm excited for it. Your fault."

It doesn't leave your mind that he wants to spend time with you. It may be worth being a little late. It's not as if everybody is always on time. Plus, you've always loved a grand entrance.

“Of course you are. We’ll get going in a moment.”

You turn your head, furrowing your brows. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything’s fine! Why do you ask?"

"Alastor, be serious. Is something wrong or do you really just miss me?" The second option puts a lopsided smile on your face. Is the Radio Demon missing you? Missing? Missing? He has admitted feeling that way once or twice before, but having him be so obvious about it is a bit off-putting.

"Eh, just a little." When he does the sign, he squints his eye to add emphasis. When he sees your smile, your knowing smile, and he just can't keep up the act any longer. "Maybe."

"We'll be together when we walk. Alastor, please. You're stressing me out." You grab his hand, making bold contact, trying to pull him along.

He is caught slightly off guard. He stays in place momentarily before sighing and finally giving in, letting you pull him along until he steps forward and opens your bedroom door for you. When you step through, his shadow closes it for him, and he walks by your side. He patiently intertwines his fingers with yours.

It doesn't last long. When you leave the hotel doors, Alastor pulls away, straightening his tie and repositioning his smile. "Let's get a move on."

"Thank you."

He side-eyes you, rolling his eyes, stepping along with confidence only an overlord can have. You follow along with the same conviction. The city feels different when your chin is lifted and a smirk on your face the entire time. Your music draws everybody away except Alastor, who is pleased with your impact on the weak souls around you. Good girl.

You end up walking ahead of him, a skip almost in your step. That tall building that you love so much comes into view. And as you step through the alley, he glares at the security cameras. His eyes narrow, and he stares straight at it in a challenging manner before looking away and continuing to follow after you. Ridiculous.

You turn to him. "Will everything be okay?" You take a deep breath, but your smile doesn't leave your face despite your anxiety. "I need to hear it."

His head tilts, staring at you in a somewhat confused manner. "There is nothing to worry about."

His eyes soften, only just a bit, but it's something that you'll always notice. He wants to make sure you are satisfied with his answer.

"Perfect, thank you. That's all I needed to hear." You turn on your heel, not even giving him a chance to respond before clicking the button for the elevator, waiting and staring up at it. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and your speaker even pulsates a bit. You never dreamed you'd be able to come to another meeting.

He is tempted to keep talking, to try and say something else to you, but there's no way he would break your concentration.

He stays silent then, just watching you as he waits with you.

The elevator takes a long time, or is it because time slows when he looks at you? Your smile remains on your face; is it because of him?

He bites down the urge to touch the low of your back, to hold you like the gentleman he is.

It's almost as if you can tell if you felt his eyes on you. You step closer to him, bumping your shoulder into his, but the elevator dings before you can do anything further. He motions to it, and you race him inside.

"Are we on time?" You glance down at the alley below as it starts to get farther. "I hope Camilla doesn't get upset."

“We’re on time, don’t worry. Camilla won’t get upset. She’s still very…very particular, is all…”

"I know that much."

His urges get the best out of him. He holds your waist, turning you around when it's time to exit the elevator. Immediately, the sight of the long white table sparks happiness. And all of your former friends sit together. Control yourself. You raise your chin, saunter, and hold your hands before yourself. When Camilla straightens, you just give her a nod. Her eyes flicker down to your speaker, looking back at your face.

What does my music sound like? Oh, goodness me.

Alastor obnoxiously drags a chair from the end to one next to his. The second person you look at is Zestial. He interlocks his fingers when he sees you, sending a slight nod your way, which you smile as you return. Elder to elder.

Camilla's large hands lift, her signing a bit rusty, but she manages to convey the simple.

Angels, angels, angels. Of course that's all it is. That's all it ever seems to be. But this time is different. A dead one? That's new. You eye Alastor, who just stares at her. He's known this.

The most exciting part of the meeting is when it ends, not because of the excusing but because of how Zestials lifts his hand, addresses the others, signs to you, and asks you to stay, alone. It's similar to when a teacher asks you to stay after class. You turn to Alastor, your bright smile granting him no pleasure. He's going to wait outside whether you like it or not. He's on his way regardless, standing guard by the elevator, eyeing you while you sit next to the oldest overlord.

When Zestial lifts his hands, your shoulders relax. He signs in the way you signed growing up. His hands hang low, and his head always faces you. It has a touch of French, it's proper, and it's lovely. But the best part about it is how Alastor will never be able to understand.

"What hath compelled thee to venture back?"

Your mind flickers your memory to Alastor's discreet name sign.

"Oh, just Alastor business. The typical things. I've missed you dearly, old friend. I've missed your accent. It's treacherous to try and sign to these children."

"Alastor? T'is of no surprise, I suppose. He hast ever been full of whimsy and caprice. Pray tell, hast he roped thee into his wild plans?"

Your heart skips a beat. His plans? What has he planned? Zestial has always been more knowledgeable than you and always will be. He can read people like no other. And he knows something you don't. "As always, you know him. And you know me. I'll go along on whatever trail he drags me through."

"How predictable. Though art truly a sap to his antics, as thou has always hast. Such fun he has with the strings of thy heart, pulling and tugging, dancing you about, like one of his radio plays."

Though he pierces you, you just roll your eyes. "Is this what you wanted to talk about? Not what I imagined for our reunion, dearest you."

He chuckles and sips his tea, swirling it around in his cup. "A fair query, little one. This conversation art simply a preamble. I desire more knowledge, to quench my curiosity."

"Go ahead."

"Thou art always a bold one. Very well, I shall entertain."

But he stops at that, taking another sip of his tea as if dwelling on something.

You interrupt, trying to stop him from what seems to be the worst sentence you'll ever process in your life.

"I change my mind! Shall we change the topic? Don't you remember how beautiful the snow was? I miss it. Do you miss snow?"

He nods and grins faintly, his expression softening at the memory. "Ah, yes. The snowfall... I recall it vividly. How Hell's time doth fly..."

He gazes at you with curiosity when you get antsy over Alastor, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Little one, I am sure Alastor's antics have led ye to this point. Though there is a query, little one, I wish to ask of ye."

Another 'go-ahead' almost makes its way to your hands. "Anything."

He hums to himself, tapping his claws against the side of his teacup. He then looks back at you, his gaze gentle and warm.

"Little one, what is the extent of thy love for Alastor?"

An audible woah leaves your lips. But you cover it up with a sly smile. "Why would you think I love him?"

He takes a long sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving yours. He puts it down. "Because of the way thou art around him. The way thou smile in his presence. The way thou speak with him, how thy eyes light up in his company. How thou would jump at the chance to do something for him. All signs point to love. And thou seem shocked and surprised for some reason. Ah, how have I forgotten. Your lullabies."

You close your eyes; he's undoubtedly testing your patience. But over what? Counterproductive accusations? Though the memories of Alastor's small caresses and willingness to put himself out of his comfort to make you smile play on repeat. Love, what a silly word. "Perhaps I love him in the slightest bit. But he's a dear friend, and don't be fooled, dearest. Nothing will ever come from it."

"Thou art in denial, little one. Doth thou truly think I cannot sense the stirring in thy heart when thou art around him? Love is a powerful force... though I imagine it may frighten and confuse one such as thyself." He smiles, mildly scolding.

"I would certainly never die for him. That's a part of love, isn't it? Devotion. I haven't devoted myself nor have I given my soul to him. We are companions. We will always be." There you go again, pessimistic towards the future.

"Devotion is a part of love, yes. But there are many different kinds of love, little one. Not all require the sacrifice of one's soul. However, companions you say, is that all he is to thee, then?"

No. "Yes, of course." The response is short. You focus your stare on Zestial's. You've definitely missed these conversations very much, no matter how annoying they may be. Talking to Zestial is like having a coffee with a distant friend. "A companion."

"Companion... that is what thee claims, but thy heart say otherwise. Dost thou recall the saying "denial is the first stage of grief"? Because it fits quite nicely in this condition." He grins, enjoying the banter. His little counterpart is getting so frustrated over something so simple.

"Zestial, excuse me, if you are so certain I am in love then what do you say I should do about it? What do you think? Bestow upon me your words, but make them kinder, please and thank you."

"Very well, little one. If thou truly wish for mine advice, I shall give it. Be warned, though... it may not be the answer thou is expecting." He pauses momentarily, "Thou art hesitant to admit it, but thou do love the radio demon. That much is clear to see. Doth thou wish for the chance to... act on thy feelings?"

And then you finally give in, not fighting it anymore, sighing and placing a hand on your temple, massaging it while you piece together words. You start to sign. "He'll hate me if I do."

Zestial is taken aback by your expression and how vulnerable you seem. You have never let him see this emotion. You add, "I'm being serious."

He nods in acknowledgment and sighs gently. "I see... thou art more serious than I thought. Dost thou truly fear his rejection and hate, then?"

"I just wonder if he'd disappear again. He say he'll always be here with me, but you know how he is." You huff. "Empty promises. But who can blame him? Maybe it's my fault for always believing him."

He nods again. He knows Alastor's nature well, the empty promises, and the endless chaos he brings.

Zestial basks in at the pain in your eyes. Your music affects everybody around you; that much is an unmistakable fact. It's probably torturing the people outside as you speak. He remains untouched.

"Ah... so thou are worried he will disappear once more, leaving thou behind. Is that the true fear within thy heart?"

"That's all there is. I don't know anything else he would do, realistically. Let's not play with the impossible."

"Thou are a wise one, little one." He pauses, contemplating his words, standing from his seat before continuing. "Let us speak in hypotheticals, then. Just humour me this one time, my dear melody."

"I know what you're about to say, but proceed. I won't stop you. Though, don't expect me to answer." You try to act stubbornly, but your smile still comes.

"Very well. Then let us play a game of 'what if'." He says and starts to pace around you, his eyes studying you closely as he signs. "What if, just presume... the unthinkable happens. And for in this lifetime, Alastor actually reciprocates your feelings..."

"How would I tell? And I'm not going to say my feelings outright." You put a hand on your chest. "Goodness me, I'd rather die a second time. What a nightmare that would be."

"Ah, so thou would rather perish than confess thy feelings. Very well, I understand. Then, let us consider another path. Let us suppose that Alastor gives... a portent."

With the best of your ability, you lift your shaking hands. "His indications are a bit hazy, I'm afraid. Between the caresses and the kindness, there is a constant sense of confusion if that's his form of friendship or if he's treating me as if I'm special."

He stops pacing and stands in front of you. "Ah, yes. Alastor is certainly known for his puzzling ways. It can be difficult to decipher his intentions. Is that part of the reason why thou art so hesitant and fearful, because thou cannot be sure of his true feelings for thee?"

"I didn't know you were a therapist, Zestial. Is that a new trait?" Your smile twitches, and your eyebrows furrow. You sit on the table, keeping your eyes on him. "It's appalling."

"Ah, thou art trying to evade the question. But I see right through thee. 'Tis futile to try and hide the truth."

He steps closer to you, his expression sincere.

"Thou art frightened by the uncertainty, are thou not? The fear that Alastor does not truly share thy feelings."

"I think anybody would feel the same." Your eyes glance at the floor momentarily before looking up; a special glint is in them. "He picked this dress for me this morning. I think it holds a special memory for him. But I don't think I can even guess what it is. I can't place a specific time I've worn this before."

He looks you up and down, intrigued by the memory it holds. He hasn't the slightest clue, either.

"Ah, so he picked this dress for thee? Interesting..."

He muses to himself.

"And thou do not recall the specific time thou wore it before? Have thou ever worn it in his company?"

Your face starts to heat. Quickly, you realize that this is why you couldn't remember. "Perhaps I wore it whenever we went out. Maybe that's what it is. Every time we'd sit together at a cafe and just talk for hours. It's a good memory." It gives you a sinking feeling in your gut, and the memories spark that sick, dreadful feeling of love.

"Ah, that doth explain it. The memories thou share with Alastor, the hours spent conversing in cafes. It seems thy mind has chosen to associate this dress with those joyous moments."

He observes you closely, sensing a hint of something else stirring beneath the surface. A sinking feeling, a fear, perhaps? But of what?

"But I've worn other dresses too." It's your turn to pace. "Unless there was a certain spot we went to! No, we tended to stay in the same area. Maybe it was a murder we committed, a special one? Have I gotten this dress bloody before?" You look down. "No, I'd never."

"Thou art a detective now."

"Be serious." Your hands move frantically. "If you picked out a special dress for me, what reason would it be? What would you relate it to? Help me here, it would mean the world to him if I remembered, I know that."

"Very well, let me indulge thy curiosity for a moment. If I were to pick out a striking dress for thee, and thou were to associate it with a particular memory... A special occasion, a moment that holds meaning and emotion. Not a situation, but a moment."

A moment. You point out memories in your head. A kiss? No, you've never kissed. I love you? You've never said that, either. A hug? Is that significant enough? You two hug all the time now.

"None seem to resonate with thee just yet. Mayhaps there is something that thou is overlooking. A detail, small but meaningful." He takes a step closer, his eyes scanning over the dress.

"Do you know? Are you teasing me, Zestial?" The confusion on your face drops just a bit to accommodate your soft smile. "Has he talked to you about me?"

"Me? Teasing thee?" He feigns outrage, the notion warming your heart. "Perish the thought, my dear! But to answer thy question, yes, Alastor has spoken of thee. Many times, in fact."

"Oh goodness, what does he say? Good things, I plead." You stand directly before him, staring at him, matching his posture.

"Ah, little one, rest assured, it is nothing but good things he speaks of thee. His praise for thee knows no bounds. That is all."

"Has he mentioned the dress before? Ever? Knowing Alastor, what would you suppose his connection to this damn dress is?" It's bothering you more and more. What if Alastor gets hurt that you don't remember? Or is he betting that you won't? Oh no, what if it's something ridiculous?

"Ah, little one, thou art so eager to get to the bottom of this mystery." His shoulders drop as he sighs. "Alastor has never mentioned the dress itself to me. I apologize that I cannot assist further."

You stare at him for a long while, eyes locked on his. He holds your gaze. He's not lying. This is so frustrating.

"Alastor's waiting for me." You take a step back, hesitant to end the conversation. "I'm afraid I must go."

"I understand. Thou must not keep Alastor waiting." He holds back a chuckle at the thought of Alastor's impatience. "But before thou go, may I offer thee a parting thought?"

"Of course, dearest you. Continue." You place your hands behind your back, clenching your fists.

"I must ask you to consider the possibility that thou may never remember it. At least not right now."

When you think he is done talking, he grabs your attention again by putting a finger under your chin and tilting your head.

"And little one, have caution. Thou aren't worth the suffering."

You laugh, put a hand on your speaker, and feel your rapid heartbeat. "Is that all?"

"Do not allow the weight of thy own expectations, or the expectations of others, to overwhelm thee." He dips his head. "Farewell, my dear."

Your body works with automatics as you curtsey to him. He stares at you as you do. He smiles. Others have lost their manners over the centuries, especially to royals like yourselves.

"Farewell, Zestial."

You let out a breath as you step away. He's staring at your back. All you can do is hope that he's been letting you off easy, relieving you of a longer lecture.

Alastor stares at you, face neutral, his smile offering no context to his emotions.

Zestial eyes you, his eyes flickering to Alastor's before he makes his way towards Carmilla's chambers.

You smile, missing the notion. "Well, did you miss me? We can be on our way now."

Internally annoyed that you had spent so long talking to Zestial in a language he didn’t understand, his annoyance turned into slight confusion as his eyes briefly followed Zestial’s gaze.

“Ah, darling…did you have fun talking to Zestial again?”

"Always. He's a good friend." You press the button for the elevator, reaching in front of him to do so. You enter before adding on. "Perfectly so."

Perfectly so, hm? His irritation slowly grows. He stays silent for a moment, waiting with you in the elevator for a moment before he finally lifts his hands, his posture growing more tense, and his smile is slightly strained.

“You enjoy talking to him a lot, don’t you?”

"Don't be jealous, Alastor. It's just different. He'd never be able to replace you." Holding him softly, you reach out to his cheek, and he leans into your touch. He has a warmth that your body could never imitate. His cheeks are soft, the corner of his lips brushing against your thumb. But then you pinch his cheek, smiling at him as if he were a child. "Somebody your age wouldn't get it."

He swats your hand away, ears pinned to his head. "Your on the verge of death, my dear."

"Always so."

"Well, I hope you had fun, because you are prohibited from doing that again."

"I'll do it again eventually."

He snarls. "And I will eat you alive."

"I'm sure you will."

“Oh, you just love pushing my buttons, don’t you, darling…”

You just shrug, watching the familiar alleyway become ground level as the doors open. "It's the most fun a girl can have around here."

And with that, you walk off, not checking if he followed behind. He didn't; he didn't take a single step, sinking into his shadows to appear right in front of you. You catch yourself before bumping into him.

"Oh, no, no, no. You can't escape that easy."

"I wasn't trying to."

With how close his body is, you can only think of Zestial's words. Love. Is it true?

"Good. I'd never let you get away."

His warmth engulfs you as he wraps one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders, bringing you in for a hug. You don't know where to put your hands. Does he want you to hug him back, or is this only for a second? When his grip tightens, you softly place your hands on his shoulder blades, feeling their sharpness even through his coat.

And then he pulls away, tightening his bowtie. "Now that's done, let's head back. I have a lovely recipe I'd like you to try!"

"I'm excited."

Your body holds no signs of love. That's the way it should be. Even when he has you, you won't portray any emotion like that to him. He'd take advantage of it; you know he would.

Such fun he has with the strings of thy heart, pulling and tugging, dancing you about, like one of his radio plays.

Ah, you realize. Is he already?

.

.

.

ft.

LOCK IN ZESTIAL!!!

[lala3244]

A SURPRISE BIRTHDAY

It was my birthday a few days ago. I never had a surprise birthday party so I decided to give myself a fictional one with our dear Duskwood friends.

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Lilly: Hey! It’s your birthday next week right?

Me: Yes! How do you know? I don’t think I have told you? 

Lilly: I don’t know you might have mentioned it to someone… What are you planning for your birthday?

Me: I don’t think I did but alright… I have the week off and my best friend is coming over today. We will probably stay home. Why?

Lilly: No, I was just wondering. We don’t really know how you live or what you do.

Me: I know, right? I guess with Hannah’s disappearance and the investigation, we didn’t really have time to talk more. How’s Hannah doing?

Lilly: She is doing okay. She gave her statements with the kidnapping and with what happened with Jennifer. She will face some charges but we don’t know what or when.

Me: I understand. I have to go, my friend is here 🙂. I’ll talk to you soon

Lilly: See you!

I put my phone down and run to the front door. I open the door and there she stands. My best friend! I haven’t seen her for months and we have a lot of catching up to do. She enters with her bags, I grab one and show her her room. I let her settle down and get some drinks ready. I set everything down on the coffee table then she joins me on the sofa. I serve her a cup and she smiles at me. “So what have you been up to?” I smile back “Not much. You know I haven’t been working lately. It’s been a bit boring. Except…” And I explain what happened from the beginning with Thomas’ message till the day Jake went to the mine. “So this Jake, he sounds interesting? Have you met him yet?” I shake my head “No and I don’t think I will any time soon.” She scowls “Why?” I shrugged “Well, first of all, we are in different countries from each other and he… I am not supposed to tell but I trust you, he is supposedly wanted by Interpol and other governments so he can’t show himself and lastly I haven’t heard from him since the day in the mine and I don’t even know if he is ok.” She hums “I see. Ah it’s a shame, it looks like you like him.” I blush “Maybe a little but it’s pointless to like him.” She giggles and I change the subject “And you? Do you have anyone” and she proceeded to tell me about her dating life. 

We spend the rest of the evening talking on the sofa, snuggled up under some plaids. We talk late into the night. The next day, we wake up and go shopping for my birthday. She studied cooking in high school and in college. She is making the most beautiful cake I’ve ever seen but I am not allowed to help so I just watch her baking while talking about our lives. Suddenly, she seems pensive then asks “Would you like to meet Jake?” I blush at the question but fortunately she is too concentrated on her baking to notice it which I am glad about. I clear my throat as I am not sure how to answer this and as I am taking too long to answer she looks at me then raises an eyebrow. “I… I… I don’t know…” I lower my eyes. “I guess, yes I would like it but if I do meet him, it means that he hasn’t tried to contact me for months now… I think I would be a bit pissed at him.” She smiles “Did you try to contact him?” I nod and grab my phone. I go into my inbox and click on his name. “Look! For weeks, I sent messages… Never once was he online. I don’t even know if he got out of the mines alright but my friends told me they never found a body and Lilly doesn’t seem worried. So I imagine, I was just a means to an end.” She puts her hand on my arm and I smile at her “Don’t worry, I got over it, my life doesn’t revolve around him.” She hums and returns to her baking. After that discussion, I’ve noticed that she is often on her phone which is not unusual but she looks secretive, which I find really weird. I shrug it off as she is here and I am so happy to not spend my birthday alone. 

The day of my birthday is finally here! My family had sent a lot of presents as they couldn’t be present so I have a few gifts to open! My best friend prepared a breakfast and set it in my garden with some homemade raspberries cupcakes and awesome coffee. We are still in our pyjamas when we hear a group of people walking up the stairs next to my house and garden, they all are speaking in a foreign language and they stop at my garden’s door. I can’t see them because of a shed but I hear my name, I look at my friend and she has the biggest smile plastered on her face, phone in hand then she looks at me with mischievous eyes. She types something on her phone and she stands up. She starts walking over the door where the group is and she turns around “Don’t you want to know who’s behind that door? I think there is a surprise for you.” I frown but I come over. I open the door slowly, a bit suspicious. They all quiet down and look at me then they scream “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”. It took me a few seconds to realise who they were. My brain can’t fathom that my friends from Duskwood are here, in front of me. I don’t say anything while still processing what is going on and my friend nudges on my arm for me to do something. I smile “Hi guys! What are you doing here?” I step towards them and they come forward for a group hug. As everyone is close to me I see a man who stays behind the group with a smile, I wonder who that is. After the hug, everyone pulls away except Jessy who clings to my arm. “Well, we are here for your birthday, of course!” I tighten my grip on her “Really? Where are you staying?” Jessy giggles “We were hoping that you had enough space for all of us. We brought air mattresses and sheets, we are easy!” I laugh, glad about that surprise. I turn to my friend “Did you know about it?” She nods, proud of herself. “Yes, we have been talking for a few days”. “I see, well please come inside” I grab Jessy quickly and whisper “who’s that guy?” She smiles brightly “That’s Jake! He was the one doing all the planning!” She goes inside and Jake is the last one to arrive at the entrance of my house. He stops in front of me.

I look up at his face, I scrutinise every inch of his face, I see a couple of small scars and then I settle on his eyes. They are kind, warm and I could look at them all day. He smiles “Hello, Happy birthday”. I blush a bit “Thank you, Jake.” He smiles wider “You guessed?” I shake my head and laugh “No, I asked Jessy. I didn’t really have time to ponder who you were before you came inside my house.” He laughs, it is a beautiful laugh from a beautiful man. I can’t believe he is here in front of me. We stare at each other for a few seconds but then Lilly comes outside “You have to tell us where we sleep! We’ve already decided who sleeps with whom. But we need the rooms.” I smile at her, I am glad they feel comfortable with me even though it is the first time we are meeting. I follow her inside and Jake follows behind me. I show them the rooms and I tell my best friend that she can sleep with me. She grabs her stuff from the room she was sleeping in and brings it to my room. I turn to Jake who had stayed in the living room. “And what about you?” He shrugs “I can sleep on the sofa if you don’t mind?” “Of course I don’t mind. I will bring you a pillow and some sheets''. I am so flustered by his presence that I stumble on my way upstairs. I join my best friend in my room and yell-whisper. “Oh My GOD! Did you know Jake was coming?!” She bursts out laughing “Yes I knew. He talked to me in private after adding me in the group chat after you’ve told Lilly that I was coming. He wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be too mad at him.” I grab a sheet, a pillowcase and a pillow. “Mmmh, I see.” I go back downstairs and Jake is sitting on my sofa. I put the bedding on the windowsill as he doesn’t need to sleep yet. He smiles at me as a thank you. “Well, here is everything you need. I’m going to change.” I am still wearing my pyjamas and feel a bit self conscious. It is almost summer and it is already warm. I am wearing a short and a large T-shirt but I am not comfortable showing as much skin to people I barely know. I go to the bathroom upstairs and get dressed. 

My friend joins me in the bathroom. “Are you mad at me?” I turn to face her “What do you mean?” She shrugs “about Jake?” I shake my head “No, of course not. If I might be mad at someone it would be him, not you.” I am starting to realise that I am getting mad at him for not texting me at all and also disappointed that nobody else told me he was alive. I try to calm down, they are here, it is the most important. I hear someone coming upstairs and it is Jessy “Hey lovelies! What are you doing up there?” I smile at her, I am so glad to see her “Getting ready, I am almost done.” She smiles back “Good” She turns to my friend and holds her hand out “Can you come with me please? I need to ask you something.” My friend nods and they leave me alone. I wonder what they are planning. I take my time getting ready, I could hear them whispering and laughing quietly then they call me. I join them and I can see some gifts set on the table. They all scream “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” and my friend arrives with the cake and a lit candle on it. Jessy says “Make a wish before you blow on the candle!” I make my wish and blow on the candle. They all clap and I go to hug them, thanking them for coming and that is the best birthday ever.

================================================

THE END

[meanderingfamilytree]

Content warning: Bailey, threats, non-consensual kissing

No one expected you to leave. After all, you were the dumb little orphan always caught in the wrong places at the wrong time, naked photos of your body circulating the internet, well fucked-out by most perverts in town. Their favourite thing about you was how you were always so pliant, crying meekly and breaking into hiccups, even while moaning softly from the stimulations. They looked at you and thought that in a few years, you would end up a proper slut, a regular in the brothel, fucking whoever willing.

You made good money for Bailey. Bailey always made sure of that with all his threats and sharp words. No matter how bad the week turned out to be, you always turned up with the money he demanded for. Apparently you had learned a good, hard lesson after not meeting his demands the first time. You didn’t repeat your mistakes.

It was hard to save up. It was even harder to escape the town. The meagre extra cash after paying Bailey always went towards the goddamn clothes that ripped so easily. But you managed it, somehow, perpetually in sleepless fevers as you did the bare minimum in school, worked, stole a few times, worked some more, and held your savings close to your heart. It was the only thing you really owned. Escaping the town wasn’t done with a single train ticket. You had to offer enough money to all the right people, and those people had to be trustworthy enough. But you managed it, didn’t you?

And now look at you. Your life isn’t easy, and you don’t think it’ll ever be, but it’s better. The police actually gives a fuck about real crimes in your new town, and your little flat may not be soundproof or have good heating, but it’s yours. You pay real rent now, to your landlord, not your old orphanage caretaker. Work is boring but bearable, you’ve even been on a few dates with people who don’t know, because how could they, how could they ever know, and life is good.

Until one day, the doorbell doesn’t ring. No, Bailey doesn’t have the proper manners nor the patience for that. He is just sitting in your own flat as you return from work, looking perfectly bored, holding a lit cigarette. The first thing you feel isn’t surprise. It’s more akin to irritation, because that is your chair that Bailey is sitting in. And well, didn’t you expect this to happen some time along the line? Bailey came to find you always to collect his due. It’s still amusing how far he did come.

“No smoking in here. It’s not allowed.” It’s strange, demanding something to Bailey. It had always been the other way around. Bailey only then looks up, cigarette smoke dispersing in the cool air. He raises his eyebrows.

“You’ve grown,” he says, as if it’s some accusation, “I didn’t expect that.”

“Maybe it’s the fact that I actually get some proper nutrition and sleep here.”

“Mm. You’ve missed your payments. We’re going to fix that.”

Well, fuck Bailey. Because it has been three fucking years, three whole fucking years, and you aren’t about to start slipping into old habits. You scoff, shaking your head, instinctively walking backwards. Bailey still haven’t put out his cigarette yet. You contemplate for a moment whether you should turn and sprint away, but that feels pointless when he has already found you. Bailey somehow sees right through your thoughts, and in a couple of strides he is pushing the door shut, pushing you against it, holding down your shoulders. You don’t know when you’ve started to shake. He slowly blows out cigarette smoke on your face, leaving you coughing and wincing. It feels both in spite and a warning.

“Listen, you stupid brat. You’ve run away, congratulations. I still want my money. I’m now going to send one of my men weekly to collect them. Or I’ll come myself, depending on my mood.”

“What if I just run away again? You couldn’t find me for three years.”

“I’ve already congratulated you on that. Good. Seems that you are smarter than you look. And maybe, maybe you’ll succeed in running again. But I fucking swear that I’ll find you again wherever that is,” he pauses, always a fan of dramatic intimidation, “and that time, I’m dragging you back to where you really belong.”

You let out a shaky laugh, before stopped by a jolt of pain. A sharp sting burns through your arm as Bailey rubs the end of his cigarette against it. He stares intently into your eyes, your eyes that now water with either pain or desperation, you can’t really tell, and oh god, it’s this all over again. As if you slip through time, you relive the past where it bites its own tail in a continuous loop, a never-ending cycle.

Bailey looks pleased at your tears, the fucking asshole. He delivers his point clean, by taking your chin in his fingers and kissing you. It’s a deceivingly gentle kiss, barely there, a flutter of lips that taste like smoke and salt. You know this is no spite, no warning. Do you not remember all the sleepless fevers that you ran as you delayed your payments, as you fucked and fucked and fucked him again?

The flat feels oddly empty once he leaves. You are too tired to clean yourself up, so you crawl into bed under the covers. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll escape. Maybe.

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 37

“Impossible.” Blood spattered from Yuuka’s mouth, her breathing pained. Yet, Miko only tensed. Somehow, the briefest weakness she’d sensed had vanished despite the Devil Princess seemingly being on the ropes. 

“Finish her!” Takako said.

“Got it!” But Seina tensed, clearly reluctant to deliver the killing blow. After a moments hesitation she gritted her teeth and leaped forward. Before her punch connected, however, it froze in place. Seina squirmed, finding herself unable to move. 

With a graceful spin, Yuuka ripped herself free of Takako’s ribbon. Blood stained her mouth and fireman’s outfit, but the Devil Princess only gave a malevolent smile. 

“Nice try!” Yuuka said. “You see. I stole the moment of my death. Thanks to my ability, I’m unkillable! Your little plan was pointless. Nothing can stop me.”

“Oh, crap.” Miko shivered, terrified out of her mind. What had she been thinking striking a Devil Princess?

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” Yuuka said, giving Miko a baleful glare. “I don’t appreciate traitors, intendant. It should fill your heart with rainbows to give your life for my pleasure. Why else do you think we keep you around? I’ll make sure your death is a most agonizing one.”

“Hey, leave her alone,” Seina said, standing protectively before Miko. 

“Huh?” Miko blinked, confused why the other girl would do this considering their checkered past.

“So you can steal your ability to die? So what?” Takako said, joining the protective stance before Miko. “Now stop boring us and fight already.”

This causal dismissal raised the Devil Princess’s hackles. But her annoyance turned into a smirk, knowing something they didn’t.

“I changed my mind. I won’t transform after all. Too dull. Besides, I like this false hope. It’ll make it much more fun when I crush you.” Yuuka said. 

“Yeah, get them!” Her fairy partner said with a cheer.

The Devil Princess stretched, cracking her neck. Yuuka flicked out a hand and, much to their collective amazement, summoned her two-handed broadsword. “Let the devastation begin!”

Seina was the first to meet the Devil Princess’s wrath, Yuuka’s oversized blade striking like a snake. While the girl was nimble, Seina couldn’t avoid the blazing speed of the attacking broadsword. Steel met flesh, leaving a deep gash across the girl’s torso. 

“Now, I’ll steal your ability to act on your own, foolish girl,” Yuuka said with maniac glee. She clapped as Seina almost clipped Takako with a sudden swing.

“Hey! Get a hold of yourself.” Takako summoned her ribbon around herself, deflecting a blow that would have crumpled her skull. 

“Sorry!” Seina said, her eyes fearful. “I really can’t control myself.”

“That’s right,” Yuuka said. “And now you’re going to kill all your friends!” 

“No!” Tears stung Seina’s eyes, unable to resist Yuuka’s commands. From the sidelines, the Devil Princess watched like a happy peacock as Takako barely deflected Seina’s blow. 

How had the situation turned so disastrous, so quickly? Miko kept searching but found no weaknesses as Yuuka stood with her arms crossed. 

A pained grunt escaped Takako’s lips as a punch slipped past her defenses and struck her full in the chest. The girl’s breathing turned pained as the blow crumpled her chest cavity into dust. 

“Yep, that’s the Seina I remember!” Takako said through bloody teeth, smiling from some private joke. 

“I’m sorry!” Seina said, eyes widening in horror.

“Never fear. It isn’t your fault.” Takako replied, giving the hateful Devil Princess a baleful glare. “But I can change that.”

Before Seina could slip away, Takako wrapped her ribbon around the girl’s waist. Instead of ripping the compromised ally to shreds as Miko expected, it tightened its grip instead. Seina blinked and tested her fingers, surprised they operated again under her own power. 

“Now, go get her,” Takako said, her breathing pained as she started to heal. “I’ll just rest over here if you don’t mind.” 

“Understood,” Seina said, summoning her wand and whipping a bubble toward Yuuka. 

“What the?” The Devil Princess barely dodged away, staggering as the bubble burst with the force of several explosions. Miko winced, her ears bleeding from the sheer noise of the blast. Yuuka fared little better, howling in pain as Seina used the distraction to deliver a punishing blow to the gut. 

“What?” Yuuka said, eyes widening. “I stole your will! You can’t act on your own!”

“I imagined it back, sorry,” Takako said, beaming from her resting place. 

“You! You!” The Devil Princess seethed, stamping her foot on the ground, furious someone had undermined her game. Her blade danced in the air to take Takako’s impudent head, but Seina intercepted it with her odd wand. 

“I won’t let you harm her,” Seina said with a frightening glare, striking with a blow that sent the Devil Princess reeling. 

Incredible. While the Devil Princess was an implacable foe, Seina was hurting her. But Miko knew their fortunes might change at any second. All Yuuka needed to do was touch Takako’s ribbon, and she’d nullify its power with a thought. 

Yuuka lunged forward, but Miko chose this moment to strike. While the Devil Princess slipped away from her kunai knife, it kept Yuuka from stealing Takako’s power. 

Not that Miko’s luck lasted for long. She almost lost an arm as the blade dug into her right biceps. She gasped as her body fell limp, like a marionette with its strings cut. 

“Not so tricky now, are you?” Yuuka said, pulling up one of Miko’s limp arms and playing with it. “Sorry, but I’ve stolen your ability to move. Classic, right? Well deserved for a traitor!”

Panic set in as Miko stared up helplessly at her tormentor. The Devil Princess made it clear her demise won’t be gentle. But once again, the mad Seina took a protective stance above her. What the heck was with his girl? Why fight to protect an enemy? And it cost her too, Miko watching in horror as Yuuka’s two-handed broadsword almost bisected the girl. 

Yet, she approached her doom without fear. Yuuka stared in astonishment as Seina grabbed hold of the giant weapon, despite its blade piercing several centimeters of her flesh. Yuuka tried pulling it free, but Seina refused to budge. 

“Are you stupid or something?” Yuuka said. “I’ll just repeat what I did to that intendant. I was bored with controlling you, anyway.”

“Now!”

Yuuka howled in shock as a blade dug itself deep into her chest from behind. She turned to find Paliah grinning at her. The Devil Princess snarled, stretching her talon-like fingers out to grab hold of him,but was forced to jump away as a blade of energy slashed toward her neck. Ume grunted in annoyance, certain she’d have the killing blow. 

“Hey, that’s cheating trying to gang up on us!” Yuuka’s fairy said in protest. 

“Fair.” Ume said, snorting in derision. 

“Next time, call sooner!” Paliah said, readying his weapon. “You scared me half to death!”

“Yeah, I suppose so. But we needed her vulnerable.” Seina tossed the enormous sword aside, holding tight the open wound across her middle. 

“Two more? Pointless! Pointless! You still can’t kill me!” But the Devil Princess’s breathing turned labored. Unlike Takako’s blow from earlier, Paliah had pierced her heart. 

“And I have an ally,” Yuuka said.

They watched in horror as Takako’s ribbon slipped away from Seina’s waist, re-enabling Yuuka’s control. Miko cursed, realizing she’d missed that the Devil Princess’s earlier slash had sliced a piece off.

Paliah howled in pain as he received a sudden blow from his partner, blood pooling from where it had crumpled his armor. He watched in terror as Seina bared down on him, eager to crush his skull. 

“I’m sorry, Colten. I can’t control myself!” Seina said.

“Don’t worry about me. I got this,” Pariah said, dodging a wild blow aimed at his head. Ume joined the scuffle, preventing Seina from hurting her partner more. 

“Damn, what does it take to break Yuuka’s curse?” Takako said. Even with her power of imagination, she couldn’t match the Devil Princess. 

Am I stuck this way forever? No, Yuuka’s ability must have some counter. Focus Miko. You’re the one best suited to this task. You can find its counter!

 “Come on, kill each other! What’s wrong, little knight? Can’t protect your damsel? What a shame!” Yuuka said, clapping in delight as Seina wailed her fist at her fairy partner. And laughed harder as she crumpled Ume with a single blow. 

“I’m coming!” Takako said, freezing as Yuuka blocked her way. 

“I won’t let you use that annoying trick again.” The Devil Princess said. “Tell me, can you imagine where you don’t end up as a crimson smear on the ground?”

Before Takako could reply, she gasped in shock as she suddenly found a hand piercing her chest. Without a sound she collapsed imobile on the ground, not even breathing. 

“Takako!” But Ume dodged away as a sudden kick slashed toward her head. Only her reality-warping powers saved her from a follow-up attack. 

The two engaged, Yuuka howling in delight as she chased the girl around, making her incapable of helping her friends. 

No! No! No! Tears stung Miko’s eyes, realizing how little of a chance they’d actually stood against this monster. Even if Emiyo and Chō rushed to help, they’d be just as useless. Then, like magic, Miko blinked as the latter suddenly appeared. 

“...”

“What have you been doing, anyway?” Miko asked, curious why the girl hadn’t appeared since the battle started. Instead of replying, Chō showed her notebook with half its pages missing. The girl smiled, wiping sweat from her brow. 

“What have you been scheming?” 

Chō pointed towards the sky. Miko gasped as thousands of the girl’s distinctly designed robots appeared in mass, each slashing or shooting at their enemy at once. As usual, each had a distinctive design and appendage for battle. Chō was always the artist. Unprepared for this sudden onslaught, Miko watched in awe as the Devil Princess got shot from the sky. 

“Worked better than I thought,” Emiyo said. Like Chō, she appeared exhausted from some effort. To answer Miko’s unasked question, Emiyo elaborated. “I desynced Chō’s creations from time. Annoying to coordinate, but effective.”

“You little!” Yuuka howled in fury, slashing into the robot horde with her two-handed broadsword. But they kept coming, stabbing and shooting the Devil Princess. It forced Yuuka to recall Seina to aid her against so many opponents. While Miko didn’t doubt it was only a minor respite, it was a welcome one. 

“Now it’s up to you, Miko,” Emiyo said, her tone serious. “How do we counter her stealing ability?”

As the Devil Princess fought, Miko focused her senses, searching for weaknesses and oddities. Few, to be honest. But something caught her eye, making her wonder. On Yuuka’s belt were tiny specs of color, each sparkling in the sunlight. Wait, were those there before?

If she steals something, doesn’t that mean it needs to go somewhere? It couldn’t be that simple, right?

“The gems on her belt,” Miko said with renewed confidence. “Destroy them, and I think it will restore anything she stole.”

“Is that right?” Miko jerked as she suddenly found Paliah standing above her. “That makes this simpler.” 

“You… you have my power,” Emiyo said. “I can feel it.”

“Yeah, that’s the freaky fairy I told you about!” Miko said with some vindictiveness. 

Her friend’s expression turned hard, thinking the fairy’s existence was blasphemous. Emiyo snorted and turned away. “We can worry about that later. First, we stop that monster.”

“Works for me. Together, we can accomplish the objective.” Paliah said. 

While this sickened Emiyo, she nodded in agreement. “Chō, watch over Miko.” Then the two disappeared. 

Together, the two proved a formidable team. The odd pair worked in tandem to assault their foe, pressing her hard. They flickered around the arena, never appearing in the same spot twice. Their attacks confounded Yuuka, who still suffered from the mechanical onslaught. Yet, the Devil Princess kept her waist out of reach, each swipe missing its target by a hair.

“Got my power figured out, do you?” Yuuka said, her tone containing open mockery. “Too bad. It’s too little, too late!”                             

“No, I don’t think it is.” A voice said, poofing into existence from empty air. The Devil Princess jerked in surprise. The shock gave both Emiyo and Paliah the opportunity they needed. Yuuka howled in pain, her belt slipping from her waist as an energy blade cut it, while Pariah’s sword pierced through her arm. Himari plucked it from the air and zipped away. 

“Enough of this.” Himari’s bracelet jingled, and shards of leather exploded in every direction as the belt burst to pieces. “It is done.”

“Thank you!” Seina said, experimentally flexing her hand. She beamed, gladdened to have her autonomy restored to her. 

“This is really ticking me off.” Yuuka’s fairy said. “How many of you are there!?”

“Please stop this pointless fight,” Himari said. “Go home in peace. There’s no need to fight anymore.”

“What?” The Devil Princess said, bewildered. “Me, surrender?”

“Please, this doesn’t need to end badly,” Himari said, trying to stay reasonable. 

“No! You are all dying here! All of you! This entire planet. No universe. No, this sector is going to burn! Burn! Burn! Burn!” Yuuka said, losing her composure. 

Fear stabbed at Miko’s heart, the Devil Princess wasn’t joking. 

Before anyone could stop her, Yuuka resummoned her brooch. But it slipped from her hand, her injured arm unable to hold its weight. 

“Don’t worry, I got it!” Her partner said, snatching it from the air. 

Yuuka gasped as Himari thrust a palm into her chest. Kindness gasped, suddenly falling from where she’d been perched.

 The Devil Princess flailed, her body losing cohesion and breaking up into particles which dissipated in the air. Genuine fear flickered over Yuuka’s face but before she could utter a curse, the Devil Princess vanished into nothing. 

“It’s done,” Himari said, her tone grave.

“Yuuka!” Her partner said, shaking from shock. 

“You destroyed her?” Miko said, wide-eyed. While injured, it shouldn’t have been that easy! What the heck was this girl’s power? 

“No, I threw her body into a higher universe,” Himari replied. “Sorry it took so long, but that trick Ume suggested took longer than expected to learn. I kept destroying the test object by accident!” 

“And it worked just as I hoped,” Ume said, smug. “It isn’t death, but an eternal prison is a nice second.” 

“What? You didn’t kill her?” Emiyo said, incensed. 

Miko had to agree. What kind of stupid plan was that? Yet, despite Yuuka’s injuries, the Devil Princess’s weaknesses were minuscule, almost nonexistent. Even in her civilian form, she might have been too insurmountable a foe. 

“...”

“Yeah.” Miko had to agree with Chō. The hypothetical questions didn’t matter as long as Yuuka was gone. “So, she’s stuck there forever?”

Himari only shrugged. “I found my way back, but I doubt the Devil Princess can. At worst, it’s a slight delay at least.”

“You… you!” Kindness said, beyond furious. “You won’t get away with this! She’ll be back and kick all your butts!”

“And I will, I guarantee that!” A voice said, pure terror, making Miko’s spine go rigid. Impossible. They all turned to find Yuuka standing there in her magical girl outfit. Impossible! She found a way back already?        

But there was something wrong about the Devil Princess, wronger than usual. Her usually prim haircut was free-flowing and disheveled. But it was her expression that showed true wrongness. Her face twitched, incapable of holding still. Any self-discipline and self-control had vanished, unleashing the mad beast within. What the hell had happened to her?

“You thought I couldn’t escape. But I did, I did! Searching, searching, I went, and I found. I knew I’d find it, eventually! And I did!” The Devil Princess said. “I found you!”

Miko retreated a step, taken aback by Yuuka’s incoherent ramblings. She spoke so quickly, Miko only caught a word or two. 

“This isn’t good. She must have spent eons in the upper dimensions!” Himari said. “Time flows differently there. It must have damaged her already fragile mind.”

“Yuuka, what’s wrong?” Kindness said, rushing to her partner’s side. But howled as Yuuka slashed dagger-like fingernails toward her. In her madness, she couldn’t even recognize her best friend. They all watched in shock as the fairy exploded into dust and nothingness. Impossible, she’d killed her own fairy partner.

“Death! Death to you all!” Yuuka howled. “I stole everything that gave that fairy life! I wonder whose partner it was? I hope they didn’t need their power!”

[the-al-chemist]

Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Chapter 7: The Most Powerful Puffskein at Hogwarts

A/N: I had THE most fun writing this chapter. Happy Halloween. Kudos to @cursebreakerfarrier for changing the furby’s eyes in the above photo. Warnings: mentions of grief/loss, and a savage beast.

October was growing more autumnal by the day, with the sky painted grey and the grounds covered in leaves in every imaginable shade of umber, orange, and yellow. The giant pumpkins in Hagrid’s garden were almost ready to be picked, and the students had started to don their knitwear. It was a typical autumn term at Hogwarts, in almost every way, except for one thing: the thief was still at large.

With more items going missing daily, and still no luck finding the culprit, Corey Hayden the Head Boy was arranging more and more prefects’ meetings, which Artemis was finding more and more tedious.

“Honestly, this is pointless,” she whispered to Charlie, as Corey announced - yet again - that he still had no leads. “If they’ve run out of the good sandwiches by the time we get to lunch, I’m going to be livid.”

Charlie made a low, sympathetic humming noise, and Artemis crossed her arms over her chest as she looked out of the window at the rain falling steadily on the surface of the Black Lake outside. On the shore, a single white swan was grooming itself and ruffling its feathers. It was miserable weather outside, but Artemis still would have gladly traded places with that one wet swan, if only to avoid having to listen to Corey droning on.

“I’ve been re-reading all my detective novels,” Corey was now saying, “and I think we really should consider the possibility that the thief is one of the people who reported an item stolen.”

“Why would a thief report a theft that they committed?”

“In order to shift the blame from themselves. In The Detective Files of-”

“You’re using tips from detective novels to help you find out whose been nicking a few girls’ jewellery from around the school?” said Victor Ketsueki, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “What’s your next theory? A Niffler did it?”

There were a few muffled snorts of laughter from around the room as Victor rolled his eyes and Corey bristled. Artemis pursed her lips. Though she found Corey insufferable, she disliked Victor just as much. She also hated these meetings, but at least she had the good sense to sit through them in surly silence and not try and draw attention to herself. Besides, it wasn’t just ‘a few girls’ jewellery’ that had been lost. These were things that had meant something to their original owners, and still did, such as Murphy’s Golden Snitch pin badge and Talbott’s mother’s old necklace. 

She narrowed her eyes at both Corey and Victor before returning her attention to the view from the window. The rain outside was falling more heavily now, and even the swan had disappeared from view, presumably having grown as bored of his own situation as Artemis had of hers.

“Well, if you all wouldn’t mind speaking again to the people in your houses who claim to have had things stolen from them, that would be appreciated,” Corey said. “You’re all free to go.”

At last, Artemis thought. She slung her yellow rucksack over her shoulder and followed Charlie and Badeea across the classroom. She got to the door at the same time as Victor Ketsueki, who stepped in front of her as if he hadn’t noticed her there.

“Excuse me.” Her mouth dropped open. “I was just-”

“Well done. You remembered the words I taught you,” said Victor. He gave her an insincere smile before turning his collar up and walking away down the corridor in the opposite direction to the rest of the prefects.

Artemis frowned as she watched him leave. Why was he not going to lunch in the Great Hall like everyone else? What was he up to?

“He’s probably meeting a girl,” said Badeea, as Artemis caught up with her and Charlie. “They all seem to like him these days.”

“Why?”

“I expect it’s because of the poems. You should see him in the Common Room, he’s always scribbling away. Tulip and I asked him what he was writing the other night, he told us it was a haiku.”

“Bless you.”

“It’s a kind of Japanese poem,” Badeea laughed, not unkindly. “Short but sweet, you know?”

“She knows about one of those things,” muttered Charlie, and he left for the Gryffindor table. 

He was already halfway across the Great Hall before Artemis understood the joke, and so she tutted to herself as she took her own seat at the Hufflepuff table with her dorm-mates.

“How was the meeting?” asked Penny. “Are you any closer to finding out who the thief is?”

“No.”

“Well, did you tell Corey about mine and Talbott’s Animagus theory?”

Artemis shook her head. As much as she agreed with Penny and Talbott that their theory made sense, what with the fact that ingredients needed to make the Animagus potion had been stolen from Professor Snape’s storeroom, she didn’t see how her sharing the idea with Corey would help find the thief, or if he’d even listen to her in the first place.

“Corey’s got it into his head that one of the people who’ve had something stolen might be the thief,” she told the others. “He read about it in some detective story.”

“For Godric’s sake.” Tonks rolled her eyes. “He does realise that stories aren’t real, right?”

“I’m more interested in why someone would steal all these things in the first place,” said Chiara, her pale eyes furrowing. “I understand the potion ingredients to make an Animagus potion, but the rest… There doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to it. Jae told me in Divination that half of it wouldn’t even be that valuable. Perhaps we are looking at some sort of sudden onset kleptomania. It might be spell or trauma induced.”

“In which case, we’d need to look into anyone acting strangely or out of character.”

“Like Victor Ketsueki,” said Artemis, her teeth grazing her bottom lip. “Everyone who knows him says he’s been acting differently since we’ve been back at Hogwarts.”

“Well, yes.” Penny’s blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she shook her head. “But that is because he’s been turned into a vampire.”

“Has he, though? Or is that just a big lie? Because as far as I’ve seen, he’s not vampire-like, he’s just rude and full of himself. And, I just saw him skulking off somewhere by himself at lunchtime. Why would he not go for lunch unless he was up to something?”

“Because vampires don’t eat like regular people. And he is a vampire, not a kleptomaniac.”

“Can he not be both?” Artemis asked, and Penny sighed deeply. “No, but think about it. If he is a vampire, like you say he is, then he would be able to steal things easily, wouldn’t he? He can go anywhere he likes, as long as someone invites him in. Loads of girls like him these days, they might do it, or he could just fly into all the dormitories as a bat.”

“If someone had invited him in, then they’d know he was there to steal things,” Penny reasoned. “And him already changing into a bat would mean that he wouldn’t need to become an Animagus.”

Artemis frowned. Penny had a point. Still, there was something not right about Victor, she was sure of it. Penny clearly could see that she had out-argued Artemis, because she gave her a wide smile and returned to her lunch. Artemis sighed before picking out some sandwiches for herself. Her stomach had begun to rumble almost as loudly as the thunder outside.

After lunch, Artemis had a double Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Having finished her sandwiches and bade farewell to the other girls, she made her way through the wet and windy grounds to the outdoor classroom, where she found all the rest of her classmates standing under the wooden shelters as they waited for Professor Kettleburn to arrive.

All except one, that was.

“Where’s Merula?” Artemis asked. Her question was met with a chorus of non-committal noises and Charlie Weasley’s shrugging shoulders. “Ismelda, you’re Merula’s friend. Do you not have any idea where she is?”

“No,” muttered Ismelda. “I dunno where she is, and I’m not her friend, either.”

“But I thought-”

“You thought wrong, didn’t you?” Ismelda sighed, a dark look in her eyes. “Merula and I hardly even speak these days. She went all of last month without saying a word to me. I’m not exaggerating.”

“She isn’t,” said Barnaby, nodding his head enthusiastically. “Merula didn’t speak to anyone last month at all. She didn’t even tell me I was stupid. I thought that maybe I was getting cleverer, but she is talking again now and she’s called me stupid three times in the last week. So I don’t think I am getting cleverer, after all. Look, a Bowtruckle!”

Barnaby walked off to look at a nearby tree with a spring in his step, apparently nonplussed by Merula’s behaviour. Artemis frowned.

“Wait,” she said, turning back to Ismelda. “So, Merula didn’t talk for a whole month?”

“Yes, Hexley. I’m surprised that you didn’t notice.”

“Do you know why?”

“No. All I know is that she’s now talking again,” Ismelda scowled. “Talking too much, if you ask me. Keeps reciting lines of poetry or something in Latin at dawn and dusk every day. It’s irritating.”

As Professor Kettleburn trudged through the mud to meet them and the lesson began, Artemis found herself struggling to concentrate. As the class went on with no sign of Merula, something kept niggling at the back of her brain.

“Earth to Artemis,” said Charlie, waving his hand in front of her face. She blinked, realising that she had not been paying attention. Charlie frowned. “You alright, mate?”

“Yeah, I just… Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Er, what?”

“Merula,” Artemis said. “I mean, she stops talking for a month, and then she’s speaking odd Latin words, and now she’s not here.”

“I guess,” Charlie shrugged, and used the sleeve of his robes to push rainwater off his face as yet another roll of thunder echoed in the distance. “Maybe she just doesn’t like the idea of being out in this rain.”

“And the Latin?”

“I dunno. A spell, maybe? I don’t know what kind of spell you’d need to do every morning and evening though.”

Artemis’ eyes widened. She actually did know of a spell that had to be recited every morning and evening without fail; she had recited it herself for a while shortly before her fourteenth birthday, the night she had become an Animagus. Thinking about it, she had also spent a month not talking as part of the ritual, having held a mandrake leaf under her tongue for an entire lunar cycle.

There was another great rumble of thunder, and Artemis bit her lip, hard. The final stage of the Animagus ritual had to take place during a storm. If her suspicions were correct - and she was certain that they were - Merula would be attempting to complete the spell as soon as the storm reached the grounds. 

The second Professor Kettleburn dismissed the class, Artemis set off at a run. She had to find Merula, and quickly. The Animagus spell was complicated, she knew that from her own experience, and if it went wrong, the effects could be catastrophic. Artemis had only been able to do it with the combined help of Rowan, Penny, and Talbott, and as far as she knew, Merula was doing it alone. 

Once she was sure she was out of sight of her peers, she transformed into a cat and ran through the wet grass across the grounds. When she had completed the final part of the Animagus spell, she had done so on the Quidditch pitch, a good open space that was out of sight from the castle or Hagrid’s hut. It seemed a sensible place to look for Merula, and surely enough, when she got there, she could see her standing in the centre of the pitch.

“Merula!” Artemis called out, girl-formed once more, and Merula turned around to scowl at her.

“What do you want, Hexley?”

“Are you trying to become an Animagus?”

Merula’s scathing look became one of surprise, then one of mistrust.

“How…” she crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at Artemis. In one of her hands was a small potion vial that might have been made of crystal. “What’s it to you?”

“You know how dangerous that is, right?”

“Only if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Do you know what you’re doing, though?” asked Artemis, and Merula rolled her eyes. “I mean it, Merula. You’re messing around with really difficult and-”

“Sod off, Hexley. Stop interfering in things you don’t understand.”

“Actually, Merula, I do understand.”

Merula scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah,” said Artemis, and she sighed deeply before transforming into a cat and back again. Merula’s jaw dropped open. “Right.”

“Okay, so you’re a hypocrite,” Merula told her, quickly regaining her composure. “You don’t care about me. You just want to be the only person at Hogwarts who can change into an animal.”

“I’m not…” Artemis shook her head, stopping before she let Talbott’s secret slip. “I just wanted to make sure that you have help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“I needed help.”

“Well, I’m not you,” snapped Merula. “Just go away, Hexley.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to help you whether you want me to or not.”

The two girls glared at each other stubbornly for a few moments, until a roll of thunder - louder and closer than any of the ones preceding it - made Merula give in.

“Ugh, fine. Just don’t get in my way,” she said. “And don’t say anything. You’ll only annoy me.”

In response, Artemis pressed her forefinger to her lips. Above them, ominous dark clouds had gathered, and the rain was falling so heavily that Artemis wasn’t sure that Merula would hear her even if she were to say something. There was a flash of lightning, and the potion in Merula’s hand turned red. Merula looked from the potion to the sky, and then at Artemis, who nodded grimly.

“Bottoms up,” Merula shouted over the sound of the thunder. She pulled the stopper off the potion vial and brought it to her lips, drinking until the liquid was drained. She pointed her wand to the centre of her torso.

“Wait,” said Artemis, already breaking her silence. “You have to point at your heart.”

Merula frowned, but moved her wand upwards and to her left, before reciting the incantation: “Amato Animo Animato Animagus!” She paused, and seemed to battle with herself before turning to Artemis and asking, “Now what?”

“Now you transform,” Artemis told her. “You should have an idea of the animal you’ll become, like you can see it behind your eyes. Imagine yourself transforming, and then do it.”

As Merula closed her eyes, Artemis crossed her fingers, already wondering what - if any - animal Merula would turn into. If she were to guess, she would have said that Merula might be a wildcat, or a crow, or a skunk; something untamed and savage. More than anything, she hoped that Merula had managed to complete the entire ritual correctly, and would not end up permanently misfigured. 

Artemis closed her eyes as well, barely able to watch, and when she opened them, Merula was gone. She looked down at the ground where Merula’s feet had been to see something small, spherical, and completely covered in thick brown fur.

“A Puffskein!” Relieved and amused, Artemis laughed out loud. Puffskein-Merula looked up at her, and she laughed harder as she realised that even in Puffskein form, Merula had retained her orange fringe, violet eyes, and grumpy expression. “Sorry, I just… You’re a Puffskein!”

Puffskein-Merula made a high-pitched angry chirrup that only served to make Artemis double over with laughter. When she managed to stop and get her breath back, Artemis could see that Merula looked even grumpier than ever.

“Honestly, Merula, I’m just relieved that you managed to do it without hurting yourself,” said Artemis, biting her lip to stop herself from giggling again. “Right. Turn back so we can go back to the castle and out of the rain.” 

Merula chirruped again, remaining in her Puffskein form.

“Oh, come on. It’s cold and I’m soaked through,” Artemis rolled her eyes, and Puffskein-Merula screwed her own shut. She still did not change back. Artemis’ eyes widened in horror. “You can change back, right?”

Puffskein-Merula screwed up her Puffskein face again and again, clearly trying her hardest to transform back into a human, to no avail. There was no doubt about it: Merula was stuck as a Puffskein.

“Merula, I think we need to get you some help. Look, I’m really, really sorry about this, but…”

Grimacing, Artemis bent down and picked up Puffskein-Merula, tucking her under her cloak and ignoring her loud and indignant chirrups as she carried her back to the castle.

Artemis’ first thought had been to take Merula to Professor McGonagall; as the Transfiguration teacher and an Animagus herself, she was bound to know how to return Merula to her human form. However, even as a Puffskein, Merula was able to make her opinions on this matter clear. After Artemis had gained a set of Puffskein-sized tooth marks on her lower arm, she decided that maybe Merula was right, and it would be better to try and solve the problem without any help from the school staff.

Unfortunately, neither the general counter spell nor the detransfiguration spell McGonagall had taught Artemis in her second year served to help Merula at all. She tried taking Merula to the library to see if she could find anything in the books Rowan had used to research the Animagus spell in their third year, but was thrown out by Madam Pince the librarian after Merula attempted to do her own research, using her mouth and hairy body to turn the pages of the large, leather-bound tomes.

“I will not tolerate pets being allowed to handle books, Miss Hexley!” Madam Pince said, glaring at Puffskein-Merula. “Look at this. There are toothmarks on the page!”

“You should see my arm,” muttered Artemis, but she did as Madam Pince told her. She scooped Merula up and carried her out of the library and down to the Hufflepuff Common Room. “Chiara did her work experience in the spell damage ward at St Mungo’s,” she whispered. “She might know what to do.”

Merula exhaled loudly, but did not try to bite. Artemis took that as a sign that she was happy with this plan. She found Chiara revising Herbology with Penny and Tonks in the corner of the Common Room, and plonked Merula down on the table in front of them. 

“You know how you thought that the thief was hoping to become an Animagus?” she asked Penny, who nodded. “Well, we were right. The thing is, now Merula is stuck like this.”

“Wait, Merula was the thief?” Penny asked, her blue eyes wide.

“She was. Now she’s just a Puffskein,” said Artemis, and Merula let out a series of grumbling chirps that made the others start to giggle. Merula narrowed her round eyes at them, and Artemis rolled her own. “I don’t know what you’re so annoyed about, Merula. It’s not our fault that you look ridiculous. Chiara, any ideas on how to get her back the way she was?”

Before Chiara could respond, the girls were interrupted by the arrival of Bea Haywood, who rushed over to the girls with one of her friends, both of them barely able to conceal their excitement.

“Is that your Puffskein, Artemis? Can we play with it?”

Artemis shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Bea and her friend went to pick up Puffskein-Merula, who puffed up her fur, bared her teeth, and growled at them. The two younger girls squealed with delight.

“Oh, my goodness!” said Bea’s friend, both her hands placed to her cheeks. “It’s so cute!”

“You know, they have a point,” whispered Tonks, as Bea carried a squirming and chirruping Merula away. “Do we haveto put her back the way she was?” 

“Ethically, yes,” said Chiara, though she looked tempted.

“Shame. Guess I’ll just have to find something else to use for Beater practice.”

“Do you know how to change her back?” Artemis asked Chiara, who shook her head.

“No, human-animal transfiguration is far too complicated for me to reverse. You should probably take her Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey.”

“I did try that, but she wasn’t too keen on the idea.”

“I’m not surprised,” Penny huffed. “Really, she could get into an awful lot of trouble for this. Not just the spell, but the stealing, too. I wonder why she’s been doing it.”

“We’ll never know if we don’t get her back in a shape where she can tell us,” sighed Artemis. “I guess I’ll just have to persuade her that McGonagall is the best option. In case she won’t listen, can I borrow a pair of Herbology gloves from one of you? I didn’t realise such tiny teeth would hurt so much.”

Eventually, Artemis was able to prise Merula away from the third year girls, and between the threat of being stuck as a child’s pet forever and the promise that Artemis would take the blame for her transformation, Merula was far more amenable to being taken to Professor McGonagall. The Transfiguration teacher was not best pleased with the situation, nor with Artemis’ explanation that Merula’s state was the result of a duel gone wrong. After a lecture about school rules and ‘knowing better by now’, Merula was sent to the Hospital Wing and Artemis back to the common room, both Hufflepuff and Slytherin having lost twenty house points each.

Merula was still in the Hospital Wing a week later, much to her disgust. Artemis had been curious to know how her detransfiguration was going, but so far, Merula had declined visitors. 

“She’s finally stopped chirping,” Chiara told her friends over dinner after having spent the evening volunteering in the Hospital Wing. “But her eyes are still round and her forehead is a bit hairy. Madam Pomfrey is hopeful that she will be out in time for the Halloween feast on Wednesday, though.”

“Well, that is good,” said Penny. “I’d hate to think of anyone missing their last Halloween feast.”

She aimed her last sentence at Artemis, who pursed her lips tightly. So far, she had managed to miss the majority of every single annual Halloween feast during her time at Hogwarts. It wasn’t her fault - each year something had happened to prevent her attending - but in Penny’s eyes, missing an event like Halloween was close to sacrilege. Still, being her last year, Artemis was fully intending to not miss the feast this time.

“I’m guessing that no one has been able to ask Merula about the stolen stuff if she’s only just stopped chirping?” Tonks asked, and Chiara shook her head. Penny frowned.

“Artemis, you did tell Corey about Merula being the thief, didn’t you?” she said, sighing heavily when Artemis shook her head. “Well, you really had ought to tell someone. You know, that necklace was given to Talbott by his mum before she died. It has a feather on it from her Animagus form.”

“I know, it’s just… Well, why would Merula steal that?” Artemis wrinkled her nose. “I know she took Snape’s potions ingredients and broke into the greenhouse, but we haven’t got any proof that she took anything else. I’d rather speak to her about it myself before I get Corey involved. He’ll only stick his nose in where it’s not wanted and take over.”

“I suppose so. It could be that there are two thieves, after all. Talbott did say that Tulip was telling Badeea that she saw someone trying to poke around the Whomping Willow the other day.”

“What? But that’s mad!”

“I’m just telling you what Talbott said Tulip said,” Penny said. “Apparently it looked like they were leaving something under the roots, or picking something up from under the roots. You never know, it might have been the thief hiding their loot.”

Artemis couldn’t imagine that anyone, thief or not, would risk hiding anything under the vicious tree, but she nodded anyway. It was something else to bring up with Merula once she was free from the Hospital Wing. Until then, she had plenty of other more exciting things to think about, like Quidditch practice and Halloween. 

But by the day of the feast, Artemis had stopped feeling excited at all. She woke up on Wednesday morning feeling strangely apathetic, with a small niggling doubt that grew as the day went on, despite her being unsure what she was doubtful of. It was only as she walked into the Great Hall and saw Penny, Tonks, and Chiara sitting at the pumpkin-decked Hufflepuff table beneath the bat-ridden ceiling that she realised exactly what was bothering her: something - or rather, someone - was missing.

Suddenly, Artemis didn’t fancy going to the Halloween feast at all. Thankfully, her friends hadn’t seen her yet, so she slipped away before they could beckon her over to sit with her, and left to sit in the quad, looking at the stars and listening to the sounds of the other students in the Great Hall from outside its walls. 

A set of footsteps broke her peace and quiet, and she looked up to see that someone else was walking away from the feast. She squinted to see who it was in the darkness, and though she couldn’t make out their facial features, she recognised the leather jacket they wore over their robes.

“Victor?”

“What are you doing out here?” asked Victor Ketsueki, stuffing his hands into his pockets and he walked towards her. “Don’t you have a feast to go to?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Artemis told him, and he laughed sharply.

“Yeah, I don’t really see the point. Like, pumpkins and skeletons are cool when you’re eleven, but we are adults now,” he said, shaking his head so that his hair fell away from his face. “There are better things I can do with my spare time.” He cocked an eyebrow at Artemis and leaned towards her as he added, “Talking to you isn’t one of them. Sorry, Hexley.”

He skulked away, leaving Artemis to glower at the back of his head.

“Where are you going?” she called after him, and he laughed again.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Artemis, thoroughly annoyed now, crossed her arms and scowled. What did everybody see in Victor Ketsueki? He wasn’t mysterious, he was just arrogant. Were all vampires like that? And what was he up to, sneaking around when everyone else was at the Halloween feast? A suspicion re-entered Artemis’ mind; perhaps Victor really was the thief. She didn’t care what Penny said about it not making sense, it made sense to her. No doubt he was off to steal things right now.

Artemis’ mind was made up. She was going to follow him and catch him in the act. She went back inside the castle, where she could hear footsteps echoing down the corridor, and she followed the noise, her lit wand in her hand. She must have been gaining on him, because the footsteps were getting louder. Speeding up, she turned the corner and-

“OW!”

Artemis stepped backwards, rubbing her forehead where she had crashed into the person who had been walking around the corner. Apparently, the footsteps had been getting louder because their owner had been walking towards her. 

“Sorry,” she said, looking up at the person she had crashed into. The other person glared back at her with narrowed violet eyes.

“Watch where you’re going, Hexley,” said Merula, rubbing her nose. “You nearly broke my face.”

“Like I said, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Who?”

“Victor Ketsueki. I was trying to follow him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls now,” Merula said, rolling her eyes. “And I thought I couldn’t possibly have any less respect for you…”

“It’s not like that,” Artemis shook her head. “I think he might be the person who’s been stealing all the stuff from the dormitories.”

“Ketsueki? Nah.”

“Why not? He’s been acting strangely ever since he came back from the summer,” said Artemis, but Merula looked unconvinced. “I think it’s more likely to be him than you.”

“Me?” Merula looked almost offended. “Why would I be nicking stuff from people’s dormitories?”

“I dunno. You nicked stuff from Snape’s store.”

“Only the stuff for the Animagus potion.”

“Penny thought that maybe whoever was making the potion was trying to to become an Animagus so they could steal things more easily.”

“That’s because Haywood is a moron.”

“She isn’t,” Artemis’ nostrils flared. “Okay, then. Why were you trying to become an Animagus? There must have been some reason.”

Merula pursed her lips before answering. “I just wanted to see if I could.”

“You what?”

“It’s one of the most complicated spells there is. I wanted to prove that I was powerful enough to do it.”

“Well, that worked out just great, didn’t it?”

“Shut up, Hexley. I almost got it completely right.”

“Almost,” Artemis raised her eyebrows at Merula before peering up and down the corridor. “I wonder where he’s gone. Maybe to the Whomping Willow.”

“What?” asked Merula, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Apparently someone has been hanging around the Whomping Willow. They think it’s the thief.”

“Why would they think that?”

“Because they were hiding things under the roots. Like maybe stolen stuff,” Artemis shrugged. “But don’t you see? That’s why it makes sense for it to be Victor Ketsueki. Most people would be scared of getting whomped, but if he’s a vampire, he’s hardly going to care about a tree, is he?”

“I guess not,” Merula said, looking deep in thought. “I thought he’d made up the whole vampire thing, but maybe you’re right for once, Hexley. It might be him.”

“I’m sure it is. Do you want to help me find him?”

“He could be anywhere now, and it’s the Halloween feast,” replied Merula, hesitantly. “Shouldn’t you be there, too?”

“Oh,” Artemis averted her eyes. “I dunno. I’m not sure I want to go, really.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Either it’s stupid enough that you don’t need to worry about it and you should just go, or it’s not stupid and… Well, maybe you might want to… I dunno… talk about it?”

Artemis tilted her head. “With you?”

“Maybe. I guess. Yeah.”

Merula huffed, but her face was sincere and not mocking. Artemis sighed.

“Fine,” she said. “It’s just that every year I’ve missed the feast, and the one year I’ve been able to enjoy it, I can’t because Rowan’s not here to enjoy it with me. I went to go and I suddenly felt really guilty, like I should have gone before and been there with her, and now it’s too late for that and…”

“You’d rather not go at all than go without her,” Merula finished Artemis’ sentence for her. Artemis nodded, and Merula frowned. “Why not? I mean, if Khanna liked the Halloween feast so much, she’d hardly want you to sit out here and mope about instead of going, would she? And anyway, it’s not like you’ll have another chance to go. It’s our last one. You say you regret not going before because it’s too late, you know that next year you’ll regret not going this year either, and it’ll really be too late.”

“I suppose.”

“Ugh, I hate that you’re making me do this,” muttered Merula. “Hexley, if you don’t go, then I won’t go.”

“Do you not want to go?” Artemis asked her.

“Obviously I want to go. I love the Halloween feast. It’s the best night of the year, I can’t believe you’ve been missing out all this time.”

“But-”

“But you stayed with me in the rain to make sure I didn’t get horrifically misfigured, and you took the blame for me turning into a Puffskein, so… I owe you one. If you’re not going, I’m not going.”

Merula’s face was stubborn, but Artemis was sure that she could see a faint glimmer of triumph in her violet eyes. Artemis sighed.

“Well then, it looks like I don’t have much choice but to go, do I?” she said, and together,  the two girls walked back through the darkened castle towards the Great Hall, where the Halloween Feast was just about to begin.

[wandaromanova]

Can u do a fic where fem!reader and Nat are broken up and they’re pretty hostile with each other but when one of them gets hurt on a mission they realize they’re still in love and get back together thank u if u write this :)))))))

I Love You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, violence, that’s it i believe

A/N: hi! i hit 300 followers! i posted my very first story 3 weeks ago and only had like 10 followers then. i can’t even begin to express how grateful i am that i’ve been able to bring people joy (or pain lol) with my stories. thank you. not proofread. <3

Summary: Ex-lovers Natasha and Y/N dance around their feelings for each other. They decide that hostility was the best course of action.

Word Count: 2.5K

(gif is not mine)

You and Natasha dated for a year and a half before you guys decided to call it quits. It was a mutual agreement, but there was still some sort of bad blood between the both of you that was painfully obvious. The tension could be cut with a knife.

You guys were going great at first. You both understood each other on a level that no one else could. You would do typical couple things in order to compensate for the lack of stability and domesticity you’ve both had in your lives. Movie nights, designated date nights, cuddle sessions in the late hours of the night, and literally every other cliche there was in the book.

However, you and Natasha were both raised in similar environments. From young ages, you guys were trained to conceal your true emotions and that love was for children. So, communicating with one another was something that the both of you didn’t know how to do.

You didn’t try to communicate and neither did she; and there lied the problem. Natasha would absolutely freak on you if you so much as looked at another person. You would get upset if Natasha went on a mission without informing you first. There were so many pointless arguments that occurred between you and Natasha. Arguments that could’ve been avoided or solved if you guys were able to just talk to each other.

You would say that you guys did talk… just in a higher volume than normal conversation. The yelling between you both could be heard throughout the compound. Most times, you would get so fed up and tired from the arguing, that you didn’t even know why you guys were fighting anymore. It wasn’t healthy and you knew it.

You and Natasha never once told each other the big three words. That was a line neither of you dared to cross. Like the Red Room and The Academy taught you both, love was a weakness and was nothing more than a concept believed by children. You’d like to think that actions spoke louder than words, though.

You could feel the love between you both in the way you would hold onto one another after a mission had gone wrong. You could feel it in the way Natasha worried and panicked when you’d come back from a mission with so much as a scratch above your eyebrow. However, you still could not bring yourself to tell her how you felt. Not that it would matter now, considering you guys had broken up.

It’s been five months since the breakup, and at first your plan of action was to be civil with your ex-girlfriend, but she had other plans. Natasha would bark out snarky remarks whenever you would speak up during team meetings. She began to give you cold glares whenever you walked into a room. God forbid you would even breathe in her direction, she would storm out of a room at the speed of light if you did so.

So, you began to act the same way she was. Okay, yes, it was extremely childish thinking. You should be mature, regardless of how Natasha was treating you, but you couldn’t be civil anymore. So you would treat her just as harshly as she did you. You’d send her sharper glares than she would give you. You’d never listen to anything she had to add during mission meetings, being sure to make it obvious you weren’t paying attention. And you would always counter her hostile comments that were directed towards you.

The team was currently sat in a meeting. You and Natasha were meant to be sent on a mission together, to which you both immediately objected.

“Steve, do I really have to go with that over there? I’d rather go myself and risk dying than go with her.” Natasha pointed in your direction and you were immediately offended by her statement.

“No, I would rather go and die than have to hear one more word out of your god damn mouth. You’re such a bitch.” You spoke as you stood up from your seat, Natasha following suit. Natasha walked across the room and stopped in front of you. She harshly shoved a finger against your chest.

“What the fuck did you just call me? You better take it back before I make sure you never talk again.” Natasha glared at you intensely as she stared into your eyes. You returned her stare with a bored expression on your face.

“I said you’re a bitch. What are you going to do about it, Widow?” You asked her challengingly. Natasha moved to pounce on you, but Bucky, who was sitting next to your spot, sprung in and intervened.

“Let her go Barnes. I’d love to kick her ass.” You smirked as your words only enraged Natasha more. She struggled against Bucky’s grip, trying to free herself so she could pound your face into the floor, but she couldn’t break free.

“Okay! Enough. Natasha, you’re off the mission. Y/N, you’re with me. We leave in 10.” Steve spoke with conviction in his voice, fed up with the pair of you. Natasha stopped resisting Bucky’s hold as he slowly let her go. You looked at her with one harsh glare before you took the mission file that was on the table and walked out of the room. As you left, everyone in the room stared at Natasha. She huffed and stormed out of the room as well.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

You and Steve were currently staked out in a van. You guys were spying on one of the leaders of Hydra and an infamous weapons dealer. The man was currently having a lunch with the dealer. You had been sitting there together for about an hour. You were bored out of your mind and pissed that you couldn’t get Natasha out of your mind. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for thinking about how hot she looked when she pissed. The way her eyes would widen, showing off more of her green irises as her eyebrows furrowed together in anger. The way her chest rose and fell as she took deep breaths. God, she had such nice boobs.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Fury’s voice coming in through comms. “Okay, we evacuated civilians off of the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Remember, wait until they’re in front of the alley before you attack. They may have weapons.” Fury informed you both and you looked onto the monitor to confirm the empty street. Sure enough, there wasn’t a civilian in sight; good.

Steve replied with a quick “okay” before movement from the door of the restaurant caught your attention. “Steve, there they are. Move out, now.” You spoke as you loaded your gun and attached it to your hip. You and Steve jumped out of the van. Steve threw his shield and hit both of the men with it. His shield came back to him as if ricocheted off of the men.

Your gun was pointed at the both of them as you guys approached them. “Meeting in broad daylight? Doesn’t seem like a smart move for two supposedly genius people.” You spoke as Steve searched the two men for any weapons. They didn’t have any. That should’ve been a red flag, but you weren’t in the right state of mind right now.

Suddenly, another van pulled up in front of the alleyway, right behind the vehicle you both had just exited. Hydra Agents with semi-automatic guns filed out of the van. Fuck. You guys were set up. Steve shared a look with you before he threw his shield toward the men and knocked the guns out of a few of the agent’s hands.

You began to fire towards the men with your own gun. You shot them in the shoulders, sending them flying to the ground in pain. You and Steve made quick work of the men and soon enough, there were unconscious men littered across the floor.

You and Steve turned back to the two men you had previously captured as they laid on the floor in shock. They really thought their little stunt would work? Pathetic. Unfortunately, one of the Hydra agents was still conscious. You and Steve failed to notice the movement behind your backs. The man pointed a nearby gun at you and fired 5 shots at you. He missed three of them, but managed to land two into your abdomen.

You fell to the ground as Steve whipped around and actually knocked the man unconscious this time. “Fury, we need backup! L/N is down!” He spoke frantically into comms as he applied pressure to your wounds. Your eyes were open in shock as you tried to process what just happened. You were shot. It really did hurt like a bitch. What are those black spots? God, I want Natasha right now. Wait, what? No, it’s just the blood loss talking.

You fell unconscious as soon as the backup S.H.I.E.L.D agents appeared on the scene. You were rushed back to the Avengers Compound in one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s vehicles, Steve following you after ensuring the two men were detained. As soon as the car made it to the compound, your unconscious body was placed onto a gurney and you were being rushed to the medical wing.

As your body was being rolled through the halls of the compound, you were pushed by the doctors past Natasha. She did a double take and quickly turned around to confirm what she had just saw. Her heart sunk to her stomach at the sight of your limp, blood-covered body. She ran after you without a second thought, fear and dread taking over.

Natasha tried to enter the medical wing where they had just taken you, but she was stopped by a strong hand abruptly placing itself onto her shoulder. “Nat, we need to let them take care of her. We’d only be disturbing them and we need their focus to 100% be on Y/N.” Steve said in an attempt to convince the redhead to stop her plan of barging into the room like a madwoman. Natasha took one last glance at the door before she heavily sighed and walked to the wall across the door. She slid her back slowly against the wall and placed her head in her hands.

“What happened, Rogers?” Natasha asked, afraid of hearing the answer. Steve went over the events of the mission, and all Natasha could think was that she should’ve been there with you. She would’ve jumped in front of that bullet to save you in a heartbeat because she loved you. Wait. She loved you? Holy fuck! She loved you!

Natasha’s heart rate increased rapidly at her self revelation. She has loved you this entire time. God, she was so fucking blind. How could she not see what was right in front of her? She was madly in love with you. She let the things the Red Room drilled into her affect your relationship. Now, she wasn’t sure if she’d have the opportunity to make it up to you. That thought scared Natasha more than any mission ever could.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

1 hour later

An hour later, and the entire team was sprawled across the hallway of the medical wing. Wanda sat beside Natasha on the floor, comfortingly holding her hand. The rest of the team just stood, anxiously and impatiently waiting to hear about your status.

At the sound of the medical bay door opening, Natasha shot up from her spot on the floor and looked towards Helen Cho. “What’s her status? Is she okay? Did she make it?” Natasha immediately fired off questions at the Doctor. The team stood firmly behind Natasha as they looked at Dr. Cho, their eyes asking her the same questions Natasha did.

“She coded on the table a few times. The bullets hit some major arteries, but we managed to stop the bleeding. If she had arrived even a minute later than she did, she wouldn’t have made it.” The relief of the good news radiated off of earth’s mightiest heroes. Natasha almost let tears escape her eyes, but quickly blinked them back.

“Can I see her?” Natasha asked desperately. “Yes you can, but shes still asleep. The anesthesia was very strong so she’ll be out for a few more hours.” Helen spoke as she opened the door for Natasha. She entered and let out a sigh of relief as she caught sight of your chest rising and falling steadily. Natasha grabbed a nearby chair and placed it right beside your bed. She lightly stroked your hair before she gripped your hand.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

3 hours later

You groaned as you slowly open your eyes and were met with an obnoxiously bright light hovering over you. You heard some shuffling before the light was shut off. You turned your head towards the other person in the room and you rolled your eyes at who it was.

“If you’re here to be an asshole, please leave. I’m not in the mood for it.” You spoke as you watched Natasha sit back down in the chair next to your bed.

“I’m not here for that. I wanted to apologize, Y/N. You were right, I was a bitch. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you, but I was just afraid.” Natasha began to speak as she seemingly appeared nervous. You’ve never seen her nervous before, you’re pretty sure no one ever has.

“I was so terrified because I love you. Everyone I love ends up leaving me, and I couldn’t watch you leave me. So, I thought it was best if I beat you to the punch.” Natasha looked down to her lap and played with her fingers absentmindedly. Your eyes widened as far as they could go at Natasha’s words. She loved you. She actually, verbally said it. That’s a huge fucking deal.

“I know my logic may not make the best sense, but what does make sense is the fact that I love you. I always have and I was just too stupid to tell you. I’m sorry, I love you so much.” Natasha spoke as she tore her gaze from her hands and up to your eyes.

You reached your hand out for hers and she shakily took your hand in hers. You almost let out a gasp at the contact, you missed her touch so much. “I won’t ever leave you, Natasha because I love you too. I’m sorry too. I was just as afraid as you were. We were both stupid.” You let out a little laugh at your last words. Natasha let out a chuckle as a tear fell from her eyes. Oh god, you’ve never seen her cry either.

“You scared me. I thought you weren’t going to make it. When I saw your body being wheeled down here…. all the blood… I-“ Natasha words were cut off as you smashed your lips against hers. You winced as the pain from your gunshot wounds radiated across your body, but you couldn’t care less about that right now. The only thing that mattered in this moment was that the woman you loved, loved you too. You’d never be afraid to express your love for her ever again.

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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[sothasil]

On art, the Khajiit, and portraying a fictional culture ingame - a Beyond Skyrim interview

Now comes the second part of the Creation Mod Con interviews. Originally written for a niche panel that was later scrapped in development, much to my dismay, as it is very much my area of expertise. This was a set of questions for artists and leads around the simple theme of “how do you portray the culture of the fictional land you are creating?” Enjoy!

Describe (in a couple of sentences) what makes the races or people of your province / project unique.

Since Morrowind I've always felt like the Khajiit had a personality that set them asides – sure they have a funny way of talking and they look distinct, but there's a sort of … invisible ingredient on top of that that makes Khajiit characters stand out. Usually, from Ra'virr to M'aiq, you're going to get bold, eccentric and therefore memorable NPCs, and to me that always hinted as a strong culture, a unique lifestyle.

Khajiit lore also benefits from having kept most of it's old-game weirdness, even with their presence in ESO who's made attempts at cleaning it up big time, there's been no main game sized lore retcon into something more boring like what TES 4&5 did to the previous wild lore stuff.

How do their clothing and objects reflect their beliefs and culture in terms of style?

For the Khajiit only here – they don't see the point of being rich just for being rich – if you have money, flaunt it or bust. No sitting on piles of gold in Elsweyr, that's pointless unless everyone can see them. So in terms of clothing and adornment in general, they wear their wealth. Everything Khajiit you'll see from us is super decorated and the richer you'll go the crazier the level of details and the materials used goes with it. Even everyday items are colorful, patterned, personalized. I like to imagine that a lot of that personalization is done by individuals – a warrior sewing some pearls they bought in a faraway town in the shape of a flower on their armor, a thief wearing a coin from each purse they've swiped away braided into their hair. Of course, we can't make every item unique, it's unfeasible asset-wise, but we do have them decorated, and some of these decorations you'll see are hand drawn by artists for each piece.

Another big thing with the Khajiit is their faith – they are very pious and supersticious people. The most important part of their worship is the moons of course, and you'll find them references all across the province's art. To not slap moons on every item we have less obvious ways to reference them in abstract patterns, and we've also made up a specific art style for everything official and religious (which is pretty much the same for Khajiit) that'll show up now and then.

Last thing you'll find in Khajiit culture reflected in our Elsweyr is how they live, the social aspect. It's a culture based around clans, or family, it's very collective, so many of their items are going to be based around that. Houses that are vast shared spaces, where everyone eats and rests together, meeting/socializing spaces being a given in towns, of course different ones for different uses. Places to have fun, to fight, to barter, to pray... It's all very open and messy, lived in.

Clothing related only but we've thought these through so here's a list of the little touches that are more or less noticeable:

Khajiit clothing covers the chest in priority! The rest isn't as important. It's perfectly fine to wear a shirt and nothing else. More open outfits will have a tunic-like underwear. This isn't inhouse, but based on lore from the PGE.

While Khajiit society doesn't go that hard on gender roles, it's not the same in Rimmen. The common clothing for Khajiit will be unisex, but the Rimmenese ones are gendered, and they have their own “ideal silhouettes”, one for male, one for female. Some roles in their society are explicitly outsides of that binary and those will feature exaggerated elements of both silhouettes.

Khajiit clothing accomodates for their ears, tails and claws.

For provinces with multiple cultures / peoples how do you distinguish them from other peoples / races?

The province of Elsweyr has three main cultures – the ne'quinal Khajiit (Anequina, in imperial speak) and the pa'alatiin Khajiit (Pellitine in imperial speak), and the Rimmenese, who as their name states, are humans. These three cultures exist in the lore, but we've developed the background of each into among others, culturally specific art, visuals, to tell them apart.

To start with the Rimmenese, they're Imperials who believe they have Akaviri ancestry. Now wether that's true or not I won't say and you can go ask them if you're brave enough, but they're really proud of it, and Akavir, specifically the snake-like Tsaesci, has a huge impact on their art. Three motifs you'll find everywhere on them: snakes, gold, eight. The city is shaped like an octagon and that shape is everywhere in their stuff. They also use a rich purple and red colors alongsides the gold. All this is very old world fancy and regal, and SUPER expensive. The rim-men are this rich because they exploit the locals. They live in their own walled up city in their own tiny culture and capture Khajiit and enslave them. They live apart from the rest of Elsweyr. They'll have their own style, unique clothing, weapons, architecture, everything... Based on that cultural background, that huge ton of money, and the oppression that supports it all.

Our inspirations from Rimmen mainly draw from three things. First one is imperial Rome, referencing actual historical romans and not the sort of idealized depictions of them popularized later. Second one is Japanese art – this one we try to not overdo, as it's a bit cliché to have the Akaviri just be guys with katana and samurai armor, so we kind of... take secondhand inspiration from the cliché visuals from the other TES games, and mix it with looking up lesser known practical stuff from old Japan. The last and most important one is art nouveau, who ironically also has roots in ripping off Japanese art in a bad way, but it's iconic, and you'll find that gracious, statuesque sort of style with more realistical natural elements mixed in.

Now, the Khajiit themselves!

Anequina is the north of Elsweyr, it's a hot arid place, that's where the desert is. Traditionally, the Khajiit from there are nomadic. They're a hardy lot, who live in rough conditions, and are more... martial than in the south. The southerners see them as old timey barbarians, and they see the southerners as lazy and decadent. The harsh environment they live in shapes their lives and it's reflected in their stuff. Their art style is more abstract and geometric, you'll find feline and lunar motives of course, they're still khajiit, but expect strong lines in there. While they're not all nomadic, the ones who are have their everyday items made to last, and to be easily transportable. Anequina is pretty much landlocked so the materials they use are locally sourced, it's a lot of leather, some wood, some stone and bone, and the colors are muted from the use of natural dyes, a lot of earth tones. Crafts like metalworking and field farming are less of a thing, because it doesn't work with a nomadic culture. You're also going to see less big cities in Anequina, and the differences in riches between people is a bit dimmer.

Pellitine is the tropical south, still hot but way more humid. The people there are sedentary, and have both farming and international trade. There's huge cities in the south, Senchal being the biggest in all of Elsweyr, and with that comes ultra rich higher ups and imported materials and cultural influences. Their art is less abstract, it's a lot of flowy lines, with patterns from the nature around them, lots of flowers, they're in the jungle after all. While all Khajiit stuff is colorful, here they have the materials to make stuff outright VIVID – if you see a total eyeburner outfit, it's probably from Pellitine. They can craft stuff using feathers from jungle birds, shells from the sea, tropical wood... and compared to Anequina crafting that needs established production sites is big there.

What devices or tools do you use / have you developed to ensure that your team understands the culture, beliefs and style of your province / project?

Elsweyr has always had rich documentation – before I arrived on the project, it consisted of lore primers that compiled information for each culture and region, stuff like what materials they use, what colors they like, with visual references. Regions also had color palettes, for stuff like landscapes, textiles, woods, metals.

Now when I arrived on here I came with my own huge pile of headcanons to flesh out the culture and they were welcomed in; and since I love explaining stuff, I started writing it all down, as well as the stuff that's mentioned in the lore books and not always remembered. I wanted to make sure all that info was in the same place and easily condensed and readable for anyone who needed to check that stuff out, instead of having to look up pages of google documents. I wrote it down in a book format and illustrated it with some illustrations and concept art work I made, both project artwork and my personal stuff, as well as writings and art from other devs who were better at explaining stuff than I was. When some things needed visual explanation, I drew examples and the like. It took me months and I ended up putting what I had that wasn't province spoilers in a good looking pagination and making it all public as a holiday present to the fans, idea I had after seeing the amazing artbook born from the Hammerfell new lands mod from the folks over at Tamriel Rebuilt.[1]

What are your favourite things about your provinces / projects people?

The personality! Khajiit are just plain FUN.

Also, since at least parts of them are desert warriors in cool colorful clothing, I can reference fantasy art from my personal favorite illustrator, Moebius. Would have been hard to shoehorn that kind of influence for the frozen peaks of Skyrim!

With the release of ESO did this change your perception of the culture / style of the races / people in your province / project?

No. I'm stubborn as all hell and cling to the direction we had before ESO. They did do some changes and I'm not a fan of them. To ease on the shade, basegame ESO does have my favorite Khajiit lorebook, about the dro-m'athra, and the twilight cantors. While visually it didn't look very good, the idea is great. But it doesn't change the Khajiit style, just adds to it. The ESO Khajiit visuals, especially in the Elsweyr expansion, are too close to their real life references to me, and we don't do that on the team, we try to invent and be original.

What challenges did your team face when designing objects for the races / people in your province / project?

A number of fans are starting to notice how deep we go in when designing clutter for Elsweyr. As I mentioned before, there's a lot of color and decoration going on, but that's the cherry on top. We try to have everything...work? To have all those item concepts be thought out in detail, based on their use. We'll invent the tools for invented jobs if needed.

The Khajiit exist in a huge variety of morphologies, the furstocks as we call them, and we plan to have all 16 of them. Some look like house cats, some are giant humanoids. Since it's a communal culture, they all work together, coexist in the same place, that's a uniquely Elsweyr thing, and for this reason, every item that'll be used by Khajiit has to account for that. It forces you to rethink everything. Take a simple thing like a door – it's a tall rectangle with a knob for us, but not in Elsweyr. That tall rectangle shape is made for humans, the knob is made for a human hand, not a cat paw, so we have to reinvent what a door can look like, based on what you need a door for in the first place. Would Khajiit even have doors? Etc ...

On items used by individuals and not shared, we don't double down either – it's in little details, like several size of bowls, clothing sets designed for quadrupedal khajiit, tools of trades based on morphologies. The Senche-raht are the biggest Khajiit, and they're so big and strong others will ride on their backs in combat. Imaging designing an armor for a warrior like that, a guy who's also a cat so big he's his own combat mount. There's an infinite amount of possibilities when designing for Khajiit, and a HUGE list of things to keep in mind. I have to thank the 2D and 3D art teams for putting up with me through all this!

What are the common public misconceptions / stereotypes about the dominant race / cultures in your province / project and how to do attempt to ameliorate them in terms of their culture?

Khajiit got the short end of the stick in Skyrim – they had the fantasy stock role of “the exotic thieves” in previous games but Skyrim really surfed on that in not a great way and added to the stereotype the whole lore about the caravans and them being outcasts. It's the main thing I want us as a team to prove wrong, and it's not because it's a stock fantasy stereotype, but because that stereotype is a harmful one with racist origins, namely from the treatement of the Romani people. Now we aren't the TES writers, and can't fix Skyrim's harmful stereotypes, but we want to write without them, and show an alternative in a way, that you can make Khajiit content who doesn't parrot the oppression of real life people. And since it's common stereotypes we're dealing with, we hope it'll make the writing more interesting for everyone, to write without them.

The other Khajiit stereotype I'll see a lot is flamboyant slut. That ones kinda true. They're real open about these things in Elsweyr.

Aside from the cultures / peoples in your own province / project, what stylistically is your favourite cultures / people?

Big faves are the Redguard. Counting together official games, unreleased material and fan projects, they are at worst a lazy mishmash of north african cultures, and at best a cool fantasy people who's several past and present cultures bring in an array of styles... Redguard, the game, had the pre-Morrowind cheesy sword and sorcery style to it mixed with early TES lore weirdness, which I dig. ESO got lazy and ripped off a lot of Islamic art, but I'm a fan of that art, so I still dig! Beyond Skyrim does my favorite style of all with the Yoku culture. I don't quite have words for how to put it, but the visual identity to that style is my favorite thing, and their assets are really well done so it's always a pleasure to see anything coming from that.

Coming close are the Dunmer. TES3 takes so much inspiration from things I like and managed to weave it into a quite iconic and unique blend. Morrowind is my favorite TES game so I have a soft spot for them.

Actually, my second favorite next to the Khajiit are the Bosmer, but there's no BS Valenwood project so I can't comment on that. I know there's one cooking from an independent dev team, and I'm really excited to see what they come up with. ESO nailed giving them their own cultural visuals, the Bosmer zones are the best I've played, it was their first time being in a game and it was done right. Wonder if that Valenwood team will be surfing on them or inventing their own Valenwood. Both are good directions to take that promise a lot.

Footnotes

[1] Find the TR art book here https://www.tamriel-rebuilt.org/files/TR_Artbook.pdf.

Find my BS:E art book here.

[mercy-burning]

Laundry Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer meet again in the laundry room and decide to have some fun. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, slight exhibitionism?/potential of getting caught, slight degradation) Warnings: sex, language. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings. I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3k

Note: Surprise!! I was going to wait to post this on Saturday but Taylor Swift had me feeling like dropping a surprise, what can I say? 😂 Anyway, I wasn’t going to make another part to Pretty Please, but for one thing, it did way better than I was expecting, so thank you all for your kind comments and tags! And also, @rainsong01 mentioned something that gave me an idea for a laundry room scenario, so you can thank them for this one! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it! Thanks for all the love! 🥰

***

Y/N hated laundry day.

There was nothing more boring to her than loading clothes into the washer, waiting, then loading them into the dryer, waiting, and then folding them and putting them away, not to mention the laundry room was kind of dingy and felt like being in a gross, scary basement.

Thankfully though, years of living in the same building had given Y/N a pretty decent schedule of when the laundry room was empty. It wasn't like she disliked talking to people, but laundry made her cranky enough, and the last thing she wanted was human interaction, making small talk with building residents that acted like they cared to know about everyone else's business.

So it was Friday night, 7 pm, which meant that depending on if she had to work, the only other person in the laundry room would be Olivia from down the hall, someone Y/N had only had a few conversations with, either in the laundry room or on the way out the door.

She walked in, silently thanking the laundry gods after hearing complete and utter silence as she made her way to the washer and dryer to the far left of the room. Then she reached into her pocket and realized she forgot her phone. Cursing, she settled on basking in the silence as she loaded her clothes in the washer one by one, at least grateful that no one would be bothering her with pointless small talk.

Until she heard the door open, as if the laundry gods decided they were angry at her. She tried not to outwardly groan, hoping that whoever it was would just say, "Hello," and leave it at that. Or better yet, not say anything at all and let her do her own thing. So she closed the washer and entered the quarters, knowing that it would be a long ten minutes. She could have went back upstairs to her apartment and waited there if she really wanted to, or grabbed her phone at least, but it felt like it would have been pointless, and so she just hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Maybe I'll just go walk around the building aimlessly for 10 minutes.

But the laundry gods had other plans, apparently.

"Y/N?"

She turned around and saw none other than Spencer Reid, clutching a large cloth bag, presumably filled with laundry.

"Spencer? Hi," Y/N greeted, a small blush forming on her cheeks. The two of them hadn't really talked since their... escapade about a month ago. Most of the time Spencer was at work, but whenever he was home there hadn't been anymore thin wall scenarios or overhearing something she shouldn't. They'd seen each other in the hallway a few times, winking as they passed, but that was it. Y/N had to wonder if maybe it was just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, being absolutely fucked into oblivion by your neighbor so good that you couldn't walk for two days.

Thinking about it made her cheeks burn hotter, so she cleared her throat and only slightly avoided eye contact. "I thought you did your laundry on Sundays?"

Spencer shrugged, walking over to the machine set next to hers. "Normally I would, but I just got back from work and I needed clean clothes. It's... pretty empty in here right now."

"Oh. Yeah, that's why I do my laundry on Friday nights whenever I can. Everyone's either out or staying in relaxing. Laundry's already boring enough, right, who needs annoying small talk?"

He laughed, opening the washer and putting in some of his clothes. "Touché."

Y/N wasn't really sure what to say after that, so she sat on top of the washer and crossed her legs, swinging them a little as she waited.

"Look, I know you've already given your stance on annoying small talk, but... What are your plans for the weekend?" Spencer asked, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"Um... Not a lot, really. Other than some grocery shopping and a few other small errands, I was going to have dinner with my mom on Sunday for her birthday. We might have to cancel though because she might have to go into work, but we'll see... What about you?"

He shook his head. "I don't have anything planned unless I get called into work either."

"Oh... Well, if you ever feel like having some company, you know where I live," she joked.

Spencer laughed. "I might just have to take you up on that. Things at work have been kind of... stressful."

Despite her better judgement, she smirked. "I seem to recall a similar conversation between the two of us not that long ago, Bud. You're not trying to fuck me again, are you?"

She just couldn't help herself. Admittedly she was a little worried she was too forward, but in the end it paid off, because he turned to look at her, shutting the washer and grabbing quarters from his pocket. "Would it be so wrong of me if I wanted to?"

The low tone of his voice made Y/N clench her legs tighter together, her mind racing with all the things that could happen in the next few days, the next few minutes even... She thought back to the last time he'd fucked her, seeing his face between her legs as he completely unraveled her. She felt herself growing wet at the thought.

"Absolutely not," she finally managed to respond. She hoped he would come over to her in a few long strides, pulling her in and kissing her right there, but instead he simply said, "Hmm," and turned back to his machine, putting in quarters.

He could have been playing games with her again, but she didn't want to take the chance. So she grew bolder and leaned back on her hands, puffing out her chest to the air and tilting her head to the side, letting her hair fall and exposing her neck to him. "Well, we have some time to spare, babe. What do you say we make the most of it?"

She was genuinely surprised to see him blush and freeze in his tracks, fumbling with the last few quarters as he inserted them into the machine and started the timer. "R-right now?"

"Duh," she replied, giggling.

"Somebody could come in... O-or hear us." A twinge of worry dripped from every syllable as he spoke, and though Y/N's first instinct was to apologize for suggesting it and letting it go, she thought better of it after remembering what got them into this situation in the first place.

So she scoffed. "Oh, please. You weren't the least bit worried about someone hearing us before. Y'know... When you promised to fuck me so hard I would scream your name and everyone could hear, and then I did? And besides, even if someone walked in right now, they'd probably just leave and come back later. People probably have sex with each other in here all the time."

"I doubt that, this place is filthy. Hardly the right setting for something so... intimate," he replied more clearly, obviously trying to win this argument. Though, something told Y/N he really was a little bothered about how dirty the laundry room was.

She shook her head. "You and I both know that what we did wasn't intimate. It was downright filthy, so if anything it works perfectly for where we are."

"Y/N, I don't know..." He chewed on his bottom lip and shuffled on his feet, refusing to look at her.

"Well, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do, obviously, but... You can trust me. I've been doing my laundry here basically every Friday night since I moved here, and since Olivia is working tonight, she won't be here, and neither will anyone else."

"Well, I showed up, didn't I? Anything could happen."

She sighed, a little tired of arguing but still wanting to win. Her body tingled and practically ached at the sight of him, needing to feel his touch yet again. Maybe it was slightly pathetic, but if there was just the slightest chance that he would fuck her like that again, she had to try her damnedest.

So she had another trick up her sleeve, silently praying to the laundry gods that they would take pity on her and grant her this one thing. "You're right, but don't you think that you coming down here just moments after me was bound to happen? Like after everything we've experienced, we were always meant to have a quickie in the laundry room of our apartment building?"

He genuinely seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Truthfully I think it's more of a coincidence than anything that we showed up here at the same time."

There's your chance, Y/N, don't fuck it up, she thought to herself, hoping that with the seductive tone in her voice and the puppy dog look in her eye, it would be enough to get her what she wanted. "I was joking. Of course it's a coincidence, I just want you to fuck me."

He only stayed silent, fiddling with his hands and his eyes flicking between her and the floor before he caught her eye. In another attempt to entice him, Y/N batted her eyes and slowly spread her legs wide, scooting back a little so she could rest her heels on the top of the washer. "Don't you want to fuck me into the washing machine, baby?"

That was the last straw, the thing that pushed Spencer over the edge. He whispered, "Fuck it," to himself before striding over to her and cradling her face in his hands, bringing her to him and kissing her hard. She initially yelped at how harsh he was, but after a second she melted into him, leaning forward and bringing him closer.

She tried to wrap her legs around his torso, but he grabbed them by the ankles and kept them spread open, pulling away to look into her eyes. "Keep 'em open, pretty girl." The old nickname made her whimper, just like he knew it would, and his gaze burned into hers hotly for a few seconds before he bent down, kissing her inner thigh just below the hem of her shorts. She sighed as he trailed his lips and tongue along every inch of skin, switching to the other leg and giving it the same attention until he was ready for more.

Rather than pulling off her shorts and underwear, Spencer simply pushed the fabrics aside and immediately licked a long, flat strip up her pussy, to which Y/N sharply inhaled and reached out, grabbing his hair. He explored her just as thoroughly as he had the last time, his fervor unmatched and absolutely intoxicating as he pushed himself closer and closer, practically living between her legs. Due to the short time constraint and fear of getting caught, he didn't waste time teasing her, and he seemed determined to finish before the buzzing of the washer signaled clean clothes.

Naturally though, he couldn't not tease her, so just as she was about to finish with his lips wrapped around her clit, he pulled away and left her breathless and frustrated.

"Really? We're doing this again?" she huffed, pouting.

Spencer unbuckled his belt and raised his eyebrow. "All in due time, sweetheart. Come here."

Unsurprisingly, she did what she was told, jumping off the washer and waiting further instructions. It didn't take long for Spencer to move, only a few seconds passing by before he turned her around and pushed her against the washer, to which she instinctively bent her torso over it. She gripped the sides of it tightly as he ran his hands up her shirt and caressed her back, eventually using one hand to grip her waist and the other to lift her leg up, setting it on the washer. She readjusted, reaching her hands forward to grip the top of it as he slid his hand down her leg and toyed with the fabric of her shorts.

"Listen carefully," he said, causing Y/N's heart to pound harder in her chest. "I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yes," she stated simply, loud and clear, though adding a hint of desperation as to hopefully speed the process along. She knew this communication was important, but damn if she didn't just want to be railed into next week already.

"Birth control?"

She swallowed nervously, hoping it wouldn't change his mind. "I'm not on it."

"Noted," is all he said, before deftly moving her shorts and underwear to the side and slamming into her with no warning. She yelped, leaning her head back as he pounded into her, the cold metal of the washing machine digging into her skin. It was the best kind of painful pleasure, only made better when he gripped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanked her to him, deepening his angle inside of her and hitting that sweet spot every time.

"Spencer, I'm..." She could barely breathe, and she loved it, already feeling herself start to unravel.

"Close already, pretty girl?" he purred in her ear, right before pressing a wet kiss to her neck as he craned her head to the side for better access. "Figures... You've always been so easy to please. Such a good, needy little slut for me, huh?"

Y/N groaned at the new name, and it spurred him forward, encouraging him to push them both further into the washing machine as he moved his hips harder. "Please," she gasped, only seconds away from losing herself.

"Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke as clearly as she could, not caring how loud she was being. "I wanna cum! Please, Spencer, please!"

"Do it," he grunted, giving her a few more deep, purposeful thrusts to aid in her high. "I got you, pretty girl." That's what did it for her. She yelled out as her body tensed and her walls fluttered around him, everything absolutely burning and blinding until eventually she was spent.

Spencer held himself inside of her for a few seconds, bringing himself closer to the edge before he roughly pulled out and away, leaving Y/N empty and alone. She was tired as hell and completely fucked out, but still she wanted more than anything to help him, ever the needy little slut, as he'd so eloquently called her. So she turned around, peeling herself away from the washing machine and dropping to her knees in front of him, not waiting for him to say anything.

She promptly leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around his cock, wasting no time hollowing her cheeks and setting a fast pace sucking him off. It had somewhat taken him by surprise, but he welcomed it, gathering her hair away from her face and watching as she went to work, practically worshipping the ground he stood on. Eventually she pushed herself all the way forward, allowing him to hit the back of her throat. Instead of pulling back to breathe, she held herself there and gagged, looking up at him with tears in her eyes before removing herself, taking two deep breaths, and going right back to work.

"Look at you," he mused, his voice barely there but with enough volume that allowed Y/N to hear him. "You look so good, pathetic and choking on my cock. Such a good fucking girl, fuck—"

In no time he was gripping her hair tighter and his breathing started to falter. Y/N held herself still as he came in her mouth, most of it hitting the back of her throat and all of it coating her tongue. She moaned around him, blinking tears away and running her hands over his ass until he pulled away from her and let go of her hair.

Standing up, Y/N swallowed most of his cum but purposely let some of it spill out of her mouth and down her chin, to which she used her middle finger to scoop it up and slide it back into her mouth. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, watching as his tongue flicked over his bottom lip before he bit it softly.

Once she was done cleaning herself up, Y/N ran a hand through her hair and smiled. "See, that wasn't bad at all. No trouble."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only trouble is you. Eavesdropping, making me fuck you in a semi-public place, et cetera..." He laughed as he pulled his pants up and re-adjusted himself as though nothing had happened.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Y/N teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. He laughed against them, pulling her closer by her waist and resting his hands there when she pulled away.

As if to signal the end of their... whatever they were going to call it, Y/N's washer buzzed and she turned around to attend to her laundry. As she transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer, Spencer came up behind her and brushed the hair away from her neck.

"You know, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything when I... called you a slut. I would never want to be mean to you or anything, and I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

Y/N almost laughed, amused again by how dominant he was during sex but then immediately a big 'ol softie once it was over. It was such a fun contrast, and truthfully, as much as she loved his dominant side, she wanted to see more of his softer one. So she turned around to meet him and caressed his cheek, smiling kindly. "I know you don't mean it to be mean. It was hot. And I appreciate you checking up on me, it's sweet. You're sweet."

Before he could say anything, his washer buzzed. So he settled on leaning forward, kissing her cheek, and walking away to do his laundry.

The two of them worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company until they realized they both had to wait for the dryer. 20 minutes.

"Round two?" he asked her with a mischievous grin.

Y/N returned it and took a step towards him when the door opened, laundry gods be damned.

"Oh, hey guys!" Olivia from down the hall chirped as she walked in, striding to her own station.

At least they had the rest of the weekend.

[sofoulandfairaday]

The ultimate How I Met Your Mother Finale rant

I know this has been done before, and I know I'm several years late to the party, but I don't care, so IN THIS ESSAY I WILL tell you about why this finale takes the spot as the second-worst finale in TV show history (because Game of Thrones is still, to this day, unbeatable, and it will probably stay like that forever). 

But first, a little context: I've just finished binge-watching HIMYM. This binge has been going on for three days straight (my final exam of the semester is in a week and I should be studying, so the fact that the last few days were a partial waste of time makes me so mad). Second thing: I already knew how it would end, and yes, kids, it does ruin the show for you. It ruins the show so much it makes your blood boil when you rewatch certain scenes, but I will get to that. 

You might want to make yourself a drink because this is a complete list of all the reasons why HIMYM's finale sucks - I'm warning you, it's gonna be looong.

It completely invalidates the entirety of season 9

This is one of the complaints people most often have with this series, and I have to agree. It would have been so much better if the last two episodes never existed, and they just showed Barney and Robin dancing at the reception after walking out of the chapel, Ted noticing Tracy and then the platform scene. "And that, kids, is the story of how I met your mother". Cut scene. Honestly, I don't get the hate people give to season 9, barring the last 2/3 episodes, especially since season 8 was so much worse (except for a few honourable mentions, like The Robin). S8 was slower, less funny, and less deep, and while the authors took a risk by making s9 happen in the span of a weekend it paid off: they took their time introducing the character of the Mother to the gang and fleshing her out. They make sure to highlight all the little ways in which Ted and Tracy are perfect for each other, and even tie up loose ends, like with the Slapsgiving episode, that was a filler but it wasn't boring to watch (although it may be problematic for different reasons, I'm not Chinese, so I can't say for sure if it's cultural appropriation or just the authors making fun of a particular movie genre). 

Some episodes were arguably great: "Daisy" was amazing, and that whole fight between Marshall and Lily was so realistic and well thought out, "Sunrise" was extremely important for Ted's character development, same goes for Tracy and "How Your Mother Met Me", "Bedtime stories" was impressive, "Rally" was incredibly funny and proved once again what a beautiful character Barney Stinson is, so much so that even Robin never has doubts that he (the guy with the biggest commitment issues on the planet) will bail on her before the wedding, and says to Ted that "he always comes back". Daphne's character is super funny and the right amount of annoying, the shenanigans of the gang are well thought out and all of the characters (not just Barney) complete their arc in this season. The last two/three episodes butcher that.

Marshall and Lily

Marshall and Lily, arguably the world's most solid couple, are the only thing this God-awful finale gets right, especially Marshall, who is my second-favourite character, that finally gets everything he deserves. But what about Lily? They never mention her career after Italy, and I refuse to believe she goes back to being a kindergarten teacher as if her year in Rome meant nothing. I also refuse to think she becomes nothing but a political wife, the equivalent of Zoey, but without saving the world. We know she has three kids, but her postpartum depression is never really talked about much and they definitely had the screentime to delve into it. 

Barney

 Where do I even begin? Barney Stinson is, without a doubt, the best character in this series, the glue of the whole gang. I think the message they were trying to give is that, since his trauma stemmed from the absence of a father figure in his life, he could only truly heal by becoming a father as well. People also say that n°31 had to stay just a number, because who could match up with Barney Stinson? First of all, I call BULSHIT on that last point, because Robin wasn't the only girl Barney could have ended up marrying. I used to think that too, but it's just not true: that is the equivalent of saying that Barney was incapable to truly love a woman and commit to her, even after all the development he got, and that he only got one shot at love in life, and that's it. This goes against the point the showrunners try to make by having Ted and Robin end up together AND by having Tracy get with Ted in the first place: "it's never too late, you always have another chance at love, etc." And, let's face it, Barney and Robin are legendary, but Barney and Nora (hell, even Barney and Quinn!) were pretty good together too. 

Second of all, if they wanted to give Barney a kid, they could have easily done that, before Barney married Robin. Barney's "redemption" starts when he gets with Robin the first time, hell maybe even when we meet James for the first time: Nora, Quinn, finding out who his father is, the episode dedicated to the lies his mum told him/finding James' father, him getting to know his own dad, etc... those are all steps along the way. The s9 episode where Barney accepts the relationship between Loretta and the reverend proves how far he's come. So why not give him a daughter BEFORE he proposes to Robin? Have him cheat on Nora/Quinn with n°31, giving him a relapse, and having him get closer to Robin while struggling to be a dad to Ellie. That would have been great. 

Or, you know, don't give him children. What's the point of burning the Playbook if you're going to have him write the second edition? What's the point of having him do a complete 180 in the last few scenes and acting like having a kid is the only thing that makes him change? What's the point of doing that when the show spends entire episodes berating Marshall and Lily for "changing too much" when they have a kid?

Also, Barney is the "challenge accepted" guy. He loves his wife so much, he spent years wanting her, and then he gives up because there is no WiFi in his hotel. How does that make any sense at all? This is Barney Stinson, the "I will fly out to San Francisco and buy Lily a plane ticket", the "I will steal every girl from my best friend just to save him for Lily", the guy that wrote the Playbook (it takes effort to pull those plays off), the guy that planned for weeks his proposal, the guy that waited years to get back at the man who stole his first girlfriend, the guy that makes every night legendary... are you telling me that that guy becomes the equivalent of a bored housewife instead of living his best life while travelling the world? Come on. They don't even try to make it believable.

Ted

While watching seasons 7 and 8, I felt that Ted was becoming the worst character on the show: he was boring, depressed, basically had no good storylines, the whole thing with Victoria was pointless and inconclusive (and the whole "stop being in love with Robin" was completely out of character for her), but whatever, we could have accepted that because it passed the message that two people could be good together, without being soulmates - which, by the way, renders the TedxRobin ship pointless, because they were right for each other, but Ted and Tracy were soulmates. Him being hung up on Robin in the latter seasons is almost pathetic, and the thing he does with the locket is insane, not romantic - BUT I will say this: it can be seen in two ways, depending on who's watching. I personally like the two as friends, so I see the whole thing as a "Dahmer" situation, but I get the people who see it as a "Dobler" one and see what he did as a grand romantic gesture. 

The problem, though, is that the whole TedxRobin ship gets pretty old, pretty fast: it's an annoying on-and-off thing, that should have ended with the locket. Because, yes, Ted was in a dark moment, yes, he was probably depressed, yes, he thought Robin was his only shot at happiness, but he changes during season nine! He spends entire episodes letting go of Robin, including the one where she transforms into a balloon and flies away. Ted is the good guy, ultimately. He is the guy that is genuinely happy for his best friends. In one of the deleted scenes from the finale, he meets Robin years later and says that he's so happy with Tracy he never thought about Robin in that way anymore. All of that gets thrown in the trash. Why do that? To use a Harry Potter metaphor, Ted is Severus Snape, while Barney is James Potter: the former loved the girl of his dreams with all his heart, even to the point of creepiness, but they weren't meant to be together. 

Robin

This, along with the next point, is the worst of all: Robin is the worst character of the entire finale. Her relationship with Ted in season 2 is wonderful, and I say that as a full-on Barney/Robin shipper. There was never a problem in their relationship, apparently, but they then break up because they have an "expiration date" and ultimately want different things in life. Except that Ted is not her soulmate. The only times when Robin wants Ted are the times where (1) she can't have him because he's either trying to move on or (2) the times where it's convenient, for example when they become roommates again and they solve their disputes again. Around that time, we see perfectly that Ted had moved on and that the person getting hurt was Barney. It's one thing to see Ted and Robin in the finale as two people picking up where they had left off after they dated. But this is not the case. 

In season 7, we have the exchange that should have put an end to any and all TedxRobin drama, and that completely invalidates whatever the writers wrote after that about the two of them: Ted declares his love - "I think you know how you feel about me now. I don't think time's gonna change that. Just tell me: do you love me?" To which she answers "No". And Ted also says later to Marshall, that he's "happy because he can finally move on". 

What a load of crap. 

Getting over someone is hard, believe me, I would know. And, oftentimes, it doesn't happen until we find someone else to love (and from the moment he meets Tracy, there is no one else for Ted). But by giving Ted feelings for Robin after this moment, it takes away from the beauty of it- because it's one of the most heartbreaking feelings in the world when you declare your love to someone and they don't love you back. Ted and Robin were both honest at that moment, and it was the last genuinely good exchange between them. After that, during season 8 they try to show us Ted trying to get over her (and failing) and in season 9 Ted getting over her completely. This is also weirdly paced because at the beginning of s8 both are in happy relationships with other people and there's no jealousy (which is good, because at least they weren't toxic) and they seem just friends (when Robin leaves Nick to go see him in the middle of the night, she implies that she would do it for any of her friends), but after Ted breaks up with Veronica because of Robin everything is weirdly coated in this sort of tension between the two: first Ted loves her, but she doesn't, so when he helps her by taking her to Barney's proposal ("which means my best bro in the world has given me his blessing"). 

And, by the way, every time they try to paint Ted as the guy that comes through for Robin after this moment, they dumb down Barney's character. And still fail to make Ted a better guy than him (see: the carousel in Central Park). 

Yes, Robin and Ted have some chemistry, but it is nothing compared to what Robin and Barney have. Every time Robin is jealous of Barney, it doesn't seem like a stupid whim, just because some other child is playing with her toys (except, perhaps, during The Robin). Robin and Barney's relationship would need a whole other post, and the next time I rewatch the series I will write down all the things that make them perfect for each other, but, to me, the biggest difference between the two relationships is this: in season 6, when she's not dating either one of them, Ted accuses Robin of never making him feel needed while they were together, whereas Barney praises her for it. Those are elective affinities: that's what Barney and Robin have, and what Tracy and Ted have. 

Barney and Robin have more or less the same arc: they both get over their fear of commitment and they do that with each other. Time and time again, we are told that if they're ever going to settle down, it would only be with the other. The first time they break up is honestly so stupid, and even when they are broken up, they are the best of friends, which also makes Robin's behaviour in the finale look so stupid. The way the two of them fit together is unparalleled, both in a romantic and a platonic way. 

Think about it: Robin makes Barney a better man, while she makes Ted a worse one. 

Also, the whole point that there are different seasons in life for everything gets thrown out the window: apparently, Ted and Robin (that were a couple that ultimately worked in their young twenties) are the same people in their forties.

But that's not even the worst part. The worst part is that the two final episodes butcher Robin's arc as well: episode 23 starts with Lily saying "I want this girl to be in our lives" and we know Robin never made other friends outside of the gang, because she didn't need to, and now she walks away from everything because of fucking Ted?? This is saying "hey, Robin was only in the group for Ted, who brought her in, and now she leaves because he's not her puppy anymore". Robin was the one that was eternally indecisive between Ted and Barney and you're telling me that three years and many many life experiences later, she's still not sure? 

The point of her story is learning how to get over her fear of commitment, learning how to be there for her friends (there's an entire episode dedicated to that, and it's the one where Lily's pregnant and we meet Robin's ex-best friend in Canada), and how to balance her job and her life. Also, the way her character is treated is un-feminist and un-progressive: she becomes Ted's consolation prize. She is passive throughout s9. She cannot, ultimately, win the modern-day struggle most women have and balance out career and love life, so her true life, her "happy chapter" begins after she has already accomplished everything she wanted to and she's free for Ted. She doesn't even go back to him, she just the prize the main character wanted for all his life and only got in the end because his wife died (ONE SCENE, people, ONE SCENE!). Also, this makes Tracy the "broodmare" that gives him the kids he wanted, and his "happy family" experience before he goes to be with his one true love. 

The mother

This. This makes me so mad. One whole season spent on building up Tracy's character, just for it to go to waste. It would have been so easy to screw her up, but she is hands down the best thing about s9. She's the perfect woman for Ted and the episode shot through her perspective is the sweetest. By the end, I liked her more than Robin and Lily. She was the perfect addition to their group, she fit together with them in a perfect way, and they show us the biggest moment of her and Ted's life... for what? To have her die in a few sentences? And I don't care if they shot a funeral scene, I don't care if the finale was supposed to be 40 minutes long, because, in the end, it wasn't. The scene where Ted meets her is the second most beautiful one (after Barney's proposal to Robin) and the climax of the whole show, but they ruin her... and for what? The chemistry Ted has with her, he has with no one. The joy she brings him, the way she understands him, is unlike any other. I am sure that one of the reasons they killed her off was the shock value and I hate it. 

I cannot stress this enough: Tracy makes Ted a better person. When he's with Robin, Ted is "the nice guy" in the most selfish and narcissistic version of the trope. When he's with Tracy, love comes easy to Ted. Also, the scenes between the two of them are arguably the best Ted scenes of the show.

The kids' reactions (ugh)

It's not really what they say- it's the way they say it. The end of HIMYM was not supposed to be funny, even though the show is a sitcom. It was supposed to be bittersweet and beautiful, because it's the end of an era, and the writers must have known that. So, Ted finishes telling his story, reveals to the audience that their now-beloved Tracy is dead, and the reaction is: "No, ahah, you totally have the hots for Aunt Robin" (their words, not mine). Like, what the actual fuck? I cringed when Penny said that. It's tasteless and not fun at all. Even if it has been six years... It's still your fucking mum, show a little bit of sadness at the thought of her. 

The reason the show ended this way

What makes me especially mad is that I know for a fact that the reason they went with this ending is that it was the original one, always intended for the show, from season 2 onwards. And, if you watch it right after s2, it makes sense. But if you consider the eight years that passed and the massive character development, then no, it's not the best possible one. So many things hadn't been decided yet back in s2, especially about Barney, Ted, and Robin, and I hate that they didn't dare to scrap their work. This ending probably had sentimental meaning to the writers, but authors have to do what's best for their characters, not themselves. It's like with GoT, in a way: I think that the authors were all too aware of the impact of HIMYM and didn't believe that their finale would live up to the expectations... which compelled them to make the worst decision possible?? Every single character is OOC during the episode. Oh, and Marshall and Lily moving in the last episode is a ripoff from Friends (or maybe a tribute? Idk). Anyway, I believe that the authors were too attached to their sentimental version of "what should have been" and didn't give the characters the endings they truly deserved.

"Life works this way" // "Life only moves forward"

Some people say that the show is realistic because that's how life works. But I call super-BS on that. That might be true, and yes, people do get sick and die (Max, Marshall's dad...) and life does go on. But then, you don't frame it the way they did. It's just bad storytelling if you do it like that. And the problem is not the structure of season 9, because the characters develop in that season. The problem isn't even the mother's death. The problem is Ted ending up with Robin because that's not life moving forward for him, that's him, doing the same thing he did in 2005, 25 (twenty-fucking-five) years before! 

In conclusion, this finale is incoherent and inconclusive, and not satisfying at all. The only character that gets a good ending is Marshall: why is that? What makes his ending great? It's the fact that his character arc is respected and he finally gets what he's been working towards for more than ten years.

[youryanderedaddy]

Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

[strangerthings4theories]

The Demogorgon Is Billy’s Dark Reflection

At first glance, the Demogorgon seems irrelevant to the question of whether or not Billy’s coming back. But as I aim to prove, it has everything to do with it. 

Stranger Things deals heavily in the theme of reflections and opposites. Characters are designed to mirror each other, embody the opposite of each other, and sometimes both at once. Hell, the Upside Down is presented as a reflection of the real world. Literally.

(Damn. They ain’t subtle.)

By the term “dark reflection,” I mean a relationship like that between the Upside Down and the real world. The two are almost exact copies; the Upside Down has all the same landmarks, down to Will’s fort in the woods. But the Upside Down has been corrupted by the Mind Flayer, its inhabitants turned into unthinking monsters.

It’s like us. But it’s everything we hate about ourselves, everything we’re afraid of becoming.

When we probe relationships between characters, we find that pattern replicated across the board. I don’t have room to explore it in full here. However, Billy and the Demogorgon are one of the most obvious examples.

With the exception of El, the main character of the show, no one else has been compared to the Demogorgon like Billy has.

>>Billy fills the “monster” role in S3 that the Demogorgon filled in S1.

In S1, the Demogorgon stalks the inhabitants of Hawkins, kidnapping and killing them. In S2, we find out Demogorgons do not act alone, but are the puppets of a greater monster: the Mind Flayer. 

In S3, the Mind Flayer possesses Billy, turning him into His puppet. Billy then stalks the inhabitants of Hawkins, kidnapping and taking them to his master, which ultimately results in their deaths.

In S3, the Demogorgon wears a human face.

>>Like the Demogorgon, Billy is the puppet of a greater monster... even before he’s possessed.

Max tells us as much in Runaway Max when she’s watching Billy beat the life out of Steve:

I remembered how it had felt the first time I’d watched the Hargroves in action. Neil standing over Billy with the belt in his hand. Neil calling me a stupid little girl for having the guts to try to stop him. Making it so clear that he thought I was small and weak and pointless. And knowing Neil believed that still wasn’t as bad as the way Billy had hated me for trying to help him. He was damaged. Broken, maybe. And even if he’d been coherent enough to argue with, it wouldn’t make a difference. I understood now that Neil was in his head, and that meant he was just as dangerous as his father. (p 218)

This implies not only that Billy is the Demogorgon, but also that Neil is the Mind Flayer. The ramifications of that idea are... oof. Just oof.

Remember the definition of “dark reflection” that I gave you. A dark reflection is something that’s like us, but represents what we hate or fear most about ourselves.

The Demogorgon is Billy’s dark reflection because it represents his fear of losing his humanity to an abuser. 

>>Runaway Max draws on the grossest scene in S2 to give us a Billy/Demogorgon parallel.

In S2, Dustin finds a baby Demogorgon and names it D’Artagnan. At first Dart seems harmless. Then he molts and, in a scene I hate to watch, eats Dustin’s cat.

Keep in mind that Dustin’s cat is orange.

In Runaway Max, Billy seems harmless at first. Then, in a flashback to California, we’re told of the day Billy “molts.” 

One afternoon, he’s hanging out with Max and his buddies Wayne and Sid on the scrubby hill behind the Hargrove house. He’s bored and pissed at Sid for besting him on a history paper. Pulling out his lighter, he starts playing with it.

We learn there’s a corpse of a cat nearby:

There was a dead cat that had been lying under one of the sweet pea bushes for a while. A mangy orange tom with one white foot. (p 63)

Billy stalks over to it with his lighter. In a “hard, bright” voice, he talks about giving the cat a “Viking funeral.” Then, over Max and Sid’s protests, he drenches the corpse in butane and lights it on fire. The flames race down the hill, and the others have to stomp them out before they spiral out of control.

Max notes Billy’s reaction:

Billy just watched, standing over the burning cat, smiling that small, tight smile he got when something seemed funny to him....

After that, I knew.

Not that Billy was crazy or out of control, exactly - it wasn’t like the cat had been alive. But the fact that he’d done it meant something. (p 67)

Yeah, this scene means something, alright. Symbolically, Billy - a baby Demogorgon - has just eaten a cat. And, like Dustin with Dart, Max realizes he’s a monster in the making.

>>The show’s plot and cinematography choices emphasize the Billy/Demogorgon connection.

1) El first meets them in the Void. They’re both crouching, and literally or symbolically feasting, as she approaches from the right.

2) They stalk after the kids, shoulders hunched. In the Demogorgon’s case, the kids are trapped. In Billy’s case, he thinks he’s trapping the kids, but they turn the tables on him.

3) When the Demogorgon is activated, a crack rips through the tile wall of the lab. When Billy is activated, we see cracked tiles on the wall behind him.

4) El pins them against the wall with her powers. Then she screams in their faces before she deals the “death blow.” In the climactic shot, she’s on the left, they’re on the right. Mike and/or her friends are behind her.

All of that ^ is the equivalent of the Duffers banging pots and pans. “Hey guys! Billy is like the Demogorgon! The Demogorgon is like Billy!” When I first noticed it, it told me to look for other examples of “mirroring.” Do we get any other shots that juxtapose the two?

Turns out we do. Oh my god, we do.

Study this pair of shots very, very carefully.

In the first, the Demogorgon is approaching the Byers' house. It's in the center of the frame, moving straight toward us. We see woods in the background; a lamp post is on the left side.

In the second, Billy is running away from the sauna. He's in the center of the frame, moving directly away from us. We see woods in the background; a lamp post is on the right side.

I’ve already talked about how the Upside Down is the deep sea. However, it is ALSO the woods. In fairytales, the woods are a place of mystery and monsters. Some of the most famous tales happen there, such as Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel. (If you want to read more about this topic, here’s a Wikipedia article to get you started. Also a cool article on Medium)

With that in mind, we can describe this pair of shots as follows:

In the first, the Demogorgon is emerging from the Upside Down.

In the second, Billy is going to the Upside Down.

Interesting, right? Ah, but that’s only half of the story.

Study this pair now and tell me what you see.

Yep... they’re related.

In the second shot, Billy is swimming into the ocean. It’s the last glimpse we have of his young, happy self before the Mind Flayer kills him. He’s in the center of the frame, moving directly away from us, just like the first shot.

With that in mind, we could say...

In the first, he’s going to the Upside Down in its ‘woods’ manifestation.

In the second - OUR LAST GLIMPSE OF YOUNG BILLY BEFORE HE DIES - he’s going to the Upside Down in its ‘ocean’ manifestation.

Interesting how we've only seen him leave. Yet we have this iconic image of the Demogorgon, his “dark reflection,” emerging from the Upside Down and coming to us.

I have a spooky vibe, y'all, that we're missing a final shot.

And we're going to see Billy... 

coming to us... 

from the water.

I have so much more to unpack here, but this post has gone on long enough! In future posts, I’ll lay out more evidence suggesting Billy will return from the water. I’ll also explore the mythological implications. They’re mind-blowing :3

»»————-　✼　————-««

P.S. I mentioned El has a unique relationship to the Demogorgon too. I’ll try to explain that eventually~~

»»————-　✼　————-««

The “Billy Is Alive” Meta Series (So Far)

Billy Is Not a ‘B’ Character In Stranger Things

The First Rule of Analyzing Stranger Things: The Upside Down Is Symbolized By Water

The Lifeguard And The Rip Current: Our First Big Hint That Billy Is Alive

Why Haven’t We Seen Dacre On Set?

Frequently Asked Questions

For updates, follow the hashtag #billy is alive meta

[therewasatale]

go back

On Ao3.

Summary:  Would you go back? Would you leave him?

It was quiet, for once. And you were alone.

Sitting in the doorway of the wide barn, you could still feel the slow throbbing of the huge factory beneath through the ground. As if something gigantic was slowly inhaling and exhaling deep below. If you would have focused more, you might have heard the of tapping knocks, crackles, and rhythmic clicks as the plethora of machines did their thing ceaselessly.

The noise of the place has seeped into your very being. You didn’t really think you’d get used to the place so soon

You pulled your black coat closer to yourself while you watched the storm. The rain fed the puddles with fat drops. The drops fell into the water, creating big bubbles on their surface. It will rain for quite some time.  At least that's what your parents always said. By now, it seemed like a memory from a different life.

The wind rose and you took a deep breath. The sound of approaching footsteps mixed with the monotonous thumping filtering from the factory and the raindrops on the roof.

"Finally found you." Heisenberg stopped, then sat down next to you without question. "God damn it." This wasn't address to anyone, or more like it was addressed to everyone. A huge sigh escaped him and you two sat like that next to each other for a while.

"How was the family-meeting?" You glanced at the man. Even with his glasses on, you knew he rolled his eyes.

"I told you not to call it that." He pulled out a cigar from the depths of his coat and lit it expertly. "Bunch of freaks gathering so they can worship the mother." He almost spitted the last word.

You watched from the corner of your eyes as he slowly blew out a cloud of smoke, your gaze lingered on his lips for a few moments.

"The Dimitrescu daughters said hi..." Heisenberg grimaced and took a deep breath from the cigar. "They annoyed me until I promised I will relay this to you. So there." He pointed theatrically at himself and then bowed his head a little. "Now, no one can say I don't keep my word. God damn, annoying bugs."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and at the same time as a pleasant warmth feeling spread through your chest. So the three of them haven’t forgotten about you, they even think of you time to time. "Thank you, it's very kind of you."

"I know." He grinned slightly. However, his smile didn’t last long when he looked at you. "I still have a hard time believing how long you managed to put up with them." His voice was unusually serious.

"I think they think the same thing about you now."

Heisenberg snorted. "Smartass."

"Thank you." You pushed him softly with your shoulder then you ran your eyes through the landscape behind the pouring rain.

It's been half a year since you got here.

You and Lady Dimitrescu still haven't talked yet, but you thought it was for the best. The Lady could be very convincing, sometimes intimidating and you were afraid you couldn’t have said no if you found yourself facing her again. She could be scary, but the same was true for Lord Heisenberg. You secretly hoped that the difference was that, while Lady Dimitrescu would have been able to hurt you, it would not be true of the man sitting next to you.

As you thought in silence, Heisenberg also found himself sinking in his thoughts. He would never have admitted it, but in a strange way he was able to calm down now. Somehow, everything seemed more peaceful when he was with you, or even just around you. At times like these even his anger subsided. He rolled the pressed cigar slowly between his fingers and tried to lengthen this moment as much as he could. Nevertheless, he was never a patient man.

"You…don't want to go back to them?"

"Hm?" You asked glancing at him.

The man didn't look at you.

"Alcina looked less mad than sad when her kids asked how are you doing. Maybe she would-" he stopped when his gaze met your eyes. He didn't tell the whole truth; he couldn't get himself to do it. How his so called sister stopped him before they returned home.

 'You should give them back.' Lady Dimitrescu raised her voice, which almost trembled with emotion.

'Give them back?' He, on the other hand, wouldn't even tried to hide his annoyance. 'What are ya talking about? (Y/N) perfectly fine with me. Besides, if I remember correctly you were the one, who threw them out.'

His sister rolled her eyes. 'Oh, please. Maybe I've made a mistake. But-'

'No,' Heisenberg snarled. 'It was not just a mistake! You have no fucking idea how much you hurt (Y/N), but I'm not going to let you do it again!'

'They are mine!' Her voice became more filled with darkness with every word 'You don't know anything about them!' As always she stepped closer towering over him, trying to intimidate by her size. 'They are mine! You don't know anything about them!'

However, Heisenberg couldn’t care less, and was getting really riled up too.

'Shut your mouth! They chose to leave you; they don't need a giant SELFISH WHORE LIKE YOU! ' He knew he didn't supposed to be this angry. But he heard your muffled crying just one time too many. His fingers tightened around his hammer. There was more than enough metal around him to use, if its needed. He couldn’t really help with easing your pain, but if he could get rid of the source of your pain, maybe, just maybe, it would help.

The woman's eyes burned with anger, and her blades were ready to cut through anything that got in their way. Lady Dimitrescu leaned closer. 'Maybe they chose to leave, but they will choose to come back. They're not yours. They still belong to me and when they realize this, they will come back to me. I was the one who helped them, who took them in. A weak man-thing like you could never make them happy. And if it's needed then I'm going to take them back from you, you miserable wretch!'

'Go ahead and try, you big piece of useless TRASH!' The hammer moved behind him by itself and rose into the air.

'You two, enough of this non-sense!' Mother Miranda had been waiting silently until now. She couldn’t let two of her most important subjects start a pointless fight and get one of them injured. 'Go to your place. Now! '

There was a sharp wind as black branches burst out of the ground separating Lady Dimitrescu and Lord Heisenberg.

 "No, I don't want to go back." You leaned back on your hands, not even noticing as Heisenberg's shoulders tightening.

You let the smell of tobacco and rain creep into your thoughts. "I was happy there, most of them time."

The man felt his chest grabbed by an icy hand. He took a deep lung full of smoke from his cigarette again.

"Actually I had to, be more cautious there to keep myself safe, but when Lady Dimitrescu took me as her personal maiden. Well." You scratched your head. "Everything was alright for a while." You shuddered, you could still recall the Lady’s touch in your memories and on body vividly to this very day. But it all didn't matter now. "But, you know, after a while I started to think…I was really just a toy that they got bored of, maybe not for the daughters, but for the Lady? Certainly."

You didn’t have the strength to look at Heisenberg. If you had seen some sign of the same thing in his eyes now...If you were just an object, and he maybe started to find you less interesting now…Would he do the same?

"I knew it was going to end like this. It's fine." You lied with a fake smile.

Dense smoke rose from his lips. "So, that's why?" He almost sounded annoyed. "Why are you still here?" So maybe you would go back?

"Hm. Partly…maybe."

"Get to the point, (Y/N)." He muttered under his breath, but he was still listening seriously.

"I love being here, Heisenberg. This place is amazing, I got used to the sounds and the smell and I can do a lot more than in the castle. I don't want to go back because I can be better here, maybe even happier next to you."

Heisenberg felt his heart skip a beat.

"I can be an asshole."

"Yes, you can." Your smile became more earnest.

"So?"

You grabbed his coat with one hand, took the cigarette out of his mouth with the other, then pulled him in a kiss. You could smell the bitter, smoky taste of cigarette on his lips. He snorted in surprise but hugged you closer with one arm. After putting your cigar aside, you caressed his face gently. He kissed you the way she behaved, without holding back or acting nice. Couple of minutes later you had pull away, fully out of breath. Panting and deeply blushing you faced him.

"You are an asshole. But you are also mine." You carefully took off his glasses so you could look into his gray eyes. "Would you hurt me, Heisenberg?"

"No." The lord grinned widely, still, deep in his eyes you could see true warmth hiding there. "Only if you want me to, if you're into this kind of stuff." Pulling you into his lap, he kissed you again."

Around you, the noises of the factory and rain were pushed into the background, and you could only focus on the man's smoky lips and his strong arms, embracing you.

[jinxed-games]

❛ i’ve got a date with destiny, and it won’t end in a kiss. unfortunately. ❜ with the healer^^

angst

---

It only takes you until noon to figure out something is wrong. Normally they find a way to bother you. Normally they do so multiple times a day, a smug grin etched on their face as they make pointless conversation.

A day doesn't even pass before your visiting the Palace's chapel to ask for them. Only to be told that they are not receiving visitors.

Though you know within the day. Two. Three. Four days pass by without a word. You visit the chapel every day. Every day you are turned away.

It is the fifth day when you finally hear them saying your name again, "Oh how I have missed you. It was so boring." The wrongness is there still, when they don't rush to put their arm over your shoulder. When they lean close after they catch up to you, but not as close as they did.

"Did you miss me?"

"Yes, I asked about you-" Out of habit you move to wrap your arm around theirs and they wince. "What-"

Their smile is still warm and genuine, "It doesn't matter. Really I'm not even supposed to be out yet. I just wanted to see you." As if on cue you see several initiates come around the corner, chests heaving like they had been running.

The Healer brushes a quick kiss against your cheek, breathing you in, "I'll see you soon. I’ve got a date with destiny, and it won't end as pleasantly as this meeting did. Unfortunately."

They don't dash off, but instead walk calmly towards the initiates, laughing as if they had pulled off the most amazing joke.

You don't see them for another week.