#the way he could go from being normal to terrifying with just a single look - what an actor he is!!!

[sircolinmorgan]

Shaun Evans in Until I Kill You, episode four.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Sensitive! MC

Requested By: @fairwish

Summary: The brothers' reaction to an MC who is sensitive and gets upset about not having anyone who cares about them in the Devildom. The Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 3,064

This doesn't have Belphie because of the lesson it's based on! Sorry <3

Based on Lesson 6-15

You had been torn away from your life and taken to an unfamiliar place full of creatures that humans portrayed as scary and evil.

You didn’t know anyone in the Devildom. You didn’t have anyone who cared about you or that you could talk to about the trouble you were experiencing.

You were all alone, terrified, trying to figure out how exactly you ended up here.

And to top it all off, none of your new acquaintances seemed to care.

They all carried on without a worry in the world - as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a human to be in Devildom.

They didn’t do anything to try and soothe your pain of missing home or calm your fears of being surrounded by demons.

In fact, some one of them - Mammon - spurred them on by threatening to eat you if you didn’t listen to them or do as they asked.

You did your best to put on a brave face, to pretend as though their words and actions didn’t affect you as much as they did.

But it was hard to keep your composure when it was clear that not a single one of them cared about you.

-

You made your way to the Assembly Hall, your heartbeat still pounding in your chest.

You had just left the music room where you had a very intense one-on-one conversation with Lucifer after your near-death experience where you tried to save Beel and Luke.

“Hey, how about that Y/N, you’re alive!” Mammon stated as you entered the large room, a smile on his face that you weren’t sure was one-hundred percent genuine.

“Let’s see…yep, you’ve still got both arms and both legs. Your eyes are still in their sockets, and your ears are still attached. Guess you’re okay,” Beel added.

“I want to know what Lucifer did. You’ve got to give me the deets L-8-R, yo!” Levi said, a bit too excitedly. 

“Whaaat, you’re still alive? Well, that’s boring,¨ Asmo replied, a small frown on his face, as if he was disappointed

You want to scoff at their reponses. How could they be so nonchalant with everything that just happened. How could they not care at all that you almost died trying to protect their brother.

“Of course. Unless he went crazy again like last night, Lucifer wouldn’t hurt Y/N,” Satan stated, the mention of your name bringing you out of your thoughts.

“And do you know why that is, Y/N?” Satan asked you, a small smirk resting on his lips as he asked the question.

You wished it was because Lucifer liked you. Or at the very least because you were a human. But you the knew the answer.

“Because I’m an exchange student,” you replied, softly, casting your gaze away from the demons standing in front of you.

That’s all you were to them - a business transaction. A pawn that was being used to ensure Lord Diavolo’s vision came to light.

“Exactly. I see you have a good grasp of what’s going on here,” Satan replied, and you felt tears begin to sting your eyes.

“If anything were to happen to one of our exchange students, it would make Lord Diavolo look bad,” Satan continued to explain and you took a deep breath in an attempt to steady your emotions.

“Lucifer would never do anything to harm Lord Diavolo’s reputation,” Satan added and you felt the ties that had been previously holding you back snap.

“You know, I actually forgot about that. For a moment, I was starting to think that Lucifer might actually care about me. Thanks for me reminding, Satan,” you replied sharply, your angry eyes locking with his surprised ones before you left the Assembly Hall.

Satan hadn’t expect such sarcasm to come out of you - such wrath. None of them did. 

You had passed Lucifer and Lord Diavolo on your way out of the Assembly Hall and they could feel your irritation radiating off of you.

They didn't follow after you though, instead turning their attention to the five other demons inside the Assmebly Hall, silently demanding an explanation as to why you were so upset.

Lucifer thought that he had patched things over with you after your conversation in the music room.

He wasn’t the best at apologizing but he was sure that he had gotten his point across about how regretful he was over his actions.

He thought that you had accepted his apology and that things were okay, but after seeing you storm out of the Assembly Hall, we was no longer sure that was true.

After his brothers told Lucifer what happened before his arrival, he thought it would be best if he went and checked on you himself.

He found you in the courtyard, remnants of the tears you had previously shed streaking down your cheeks.

Lucifer wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. Mostly, because he wasn’t exactly sure why you were so upset.

It took a little bit of time, but when you finally opened up and told Lucifer about your troubles, he was surprised. 

He was surprisingly sympathetic to what you were going through, but he didn’t exactly let that side of himself show.

He had already apologized to you for his part in causing you discomfort in the Devildom and he was the Avatar of Pride, after all, so getting a second apology was a tall order, and an unlikely one.

But, you did notice Lucifer doing small things around RAD and the House of Lamentation.

It could be simple things that provided more comfort for your life in the Devildom or moments of appreciation that Lucifer treated as trivial but ended up meaning more to you than you thought it would.

After that conversation with Lucifer, one thing was clear - he and his brothers weren’t treating you right and they needed to make amends for that and correct their course of action.

Mammon could arguably be the most sensitive among his brothers when it came to certain things.

He had his fair share of moments where he felt like he didn’t matter to his brothers and times where he felt like there wasn’t a single person in the Devildom that cared about him.

So, he knew just how devastating those thoughts could be.

When you first arrived to the Devildom, Mammon’s concern was making sure that he made himself out to be intimidating and indifferent towards you so that he could have the power in the friendship.

He wanted to dictate when and where the two of you would go and how things were done. After all, if he was going to be your babysitter, he wanted full control of the situation.

But that didn’t really work out for him, and it didn’t take long for him to not only have to bend his knee to your will - but he wanted to.

The truth was he had fun with you and you always found a way to make him smile. Though, he refused to say anything like that. Hell, he refused to even think anything like that when he was around others.

But, when you had your outburst in the Assmebly Hall, Mammon had seen the pained look on your face. The same pained look that he had seen on himself in the mirror.

He followed after you almost immediately, not letting you get too far before he caught up and pulled you into an empty classroom.

He stood in front of you, silence filling the air as you did your best but failed to hold back your tears.

Mammon dared himself to reach up and use his thumb to brush away the tears that were rolling down your cheek.

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard to keep it together when no one around you cares about you,” you stated, barely above a whisper as you kept your gaze on the ground.

Mammon felt his heart shatter as you spoke those words. He knew that he was at fault just as much as his brothers.

He wanted to tell you that he cared about you, but every time he opened his mouth to speak those words, they got lost.

So, instead he pulled you into his arms, hoping that his gesture would be enough to prove you wrong.

Hoping that you would see that even though he had a tendency to act aloof, on the inside he was screaming for you to show him attention and to care about him the same way he cared about you.

Levi isn’t the type of person who knows how to handle this kind of situation.

He wasn’t even planning on going in to school today. He was perfectly content with doing his studies from the comfort of his bedroom.

But, ever since he made a pact with you, he had to admit he felt some sort of desire - a very SECRET desire - to spend more time with you.

The idea that his brothers would be hanging out with you at school while he was sitting at the House of Lamentation, missing out, was enough to spark the sin that he tried so hard to control.

And now after seeing everything that had just happened, he was heavily regretting his decision to leave his room.

Because now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On one hand, he wanted to disappear back to his otaku haven and pretend like he never saw your outburst

On the other hand…he couldn’t. He felt like he had to do something to help, and the feeling only grew when he didn’t see any of his other brothers moving to go talk to you.

His social anxiety was skyrocketing, but he couldn’t leave a fellow TSL fan in their time of need. That was the reason the told himself when questioning why he was doing this.

When he finally did find you, he once again froze in place as he tried to figure out his next move. He didn’t expect to find you crying.

He found some nearby tissues and slowly approached you with them, relaxing slightly when you gently took them from him and began wiping away your tears.

Levi managed to ask you why you were crying and when you explained it to him, everything made sense as to why you snapped at them.

Levi was almost always self-depracating. Sometimes it was easier to tell yourself that no one loved you then get your hopes up and get hurt. 

But he didn’t want you to go down that rabbit hole - because it wasn’t true.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he was going to find a way to show you how much you meant to him and his brothers.

He was going to prove how just in your small time there, you had already changed at least three of them for the better. And it wouldn't be long until the others followed suit.

Levi might not have the perfect words to say or the perfect way to cheer you up, but what he did have was a true friend.

And you may have to wait a while until he’s comfortable enough for him to tell you that. But, in the meantime, he’ll do what he could to show you that at least one person cared about you.

Satan had been the one you snapped at, so he was by far the most surprised.

For one, he wasn’t exactly sure what about his statements made you so angry.

He wasn’t trying to be rude or offensive, he was simply stating the facts about Lucifer.

For two, he didn’t think you had such rage inside. 

In a somewhat twisted sense, he dared to admit seeing you portray his sin gave him a small sense of gratification.

But, that thought was at the back of his mind. At the front, was trying to talk to you about what happened.

He took some time to properly analyze the situation. He tried to come up with every possible reason that could have caused you to lash out.

He wanted to have a response to any situation so that when he did talk to you, he wasn’t floundering for words.

He found you in the library at the House of Lamentation a little while later and he was grateful you were in a quiet and private place that he just so happened to be comfortable in.

You looked up from your book for a moment to see who had entered before returning to your fictional world. 

Satan came to sit down next to you and paused for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It was a much more sincere apology than you would expect from the Avatar of Wrath and it was enough to pull your attention away from your book.

“It’s not what you said. It’s what it reminded me of,” you replied with a small sigh.

“What did it remind you of?” Satan questioned, his eyes holding no malice but a hint of curiosity

“That I’m alone down here. That I don’t have anyone to turn to or talk to. That I don’t have anyone who cares,” you replied softly, your eyes looking away from Satan’s intense ones.

Satan had thought about this being one of the reasons, but he was stuck in a mental debate.

He was so used to being apathetic but something about the way you opened up to him melted his heart and he suddenly felt an innate desire to protect you.

“The library is a great place to go if you’re feeling lonely,” Satan stated.

It was always his comfort place, so he saw no reason why it couldn’t be yours.

Not to mention the fact, that he was typically in the library and maybe a small part of him was hoping that he could also be something you sought out when you were feeling lonely.

Asmo didn’t really understand the weight that his words carried until you were angrily walking out of the Assembly Hall.

As soon as you disappeared from sight he began questioning himself. Did he really say it was boring that you weren’t dead?

He had meant it as a joke when he first said it. It was a joke that most demons would find funny and he was so good at trying to be a people pleaser.

He was used to making those kinds of jokes because it would boost the way he looked in front of other demons and we all know how important his reputation was to him.

But your outburst made him realize how it must have sounded to you - a human who had been torn from their world and thrown into one that was vastly different. 

And a twinge of guilt poked at his heart, gradually growing in intensity until he felt like he could no longer stave off the need to apologize.

He found you in your bedroom and was thankful that the two of you would have a moment to be alone.

His apology would be so much more genuine if it was in privacy where he could drop the mask he constantly wore in public.

When you opened the door Asmo suppressed a gasp as he saw tears rolling down your cheek and the guilt only continued to eat away at him.

He had always thought that crying was such an ugly thing. But when you did it, it had a certain elegance.

You had a way of making anything you did beautiful. It was a trait that Asmo was actually quite envious of.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Asmo said, the words spilling from his lips before he had even fully registered what he said. 

You were confused by his sudden confession and as you tried to find the right words to reply with, he continued.

“I'm glad you're okay. And I'm sorry I made you cry," he added.

Asmo grabbed a nearby tissue and gently brought it to your cheek, dabbing away your tears.

You knew that what he said was probably a joke, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

You opened up to Asmo and explained why it hurt so much to hear everyone say those things and it was like a lightbulb went off in Asmo's head.

He completely understood where you were coming from and he hated that none of them even thought about how hard it would be for a human to adjust to life in the Devildom.

In an attempt to show you he cared about you, Asmo will turn up his charm 100% on you.

More compliments, more hugs, really anything he could do.

And if that wasn't enough he would take you out with him and introduce you to some of his friends.

Being lonely was one of the worst feelings and Asmo never wanted you to feel that way.

Beel felt the most guilty after seeing you so upset.

He was the one you were protecting when Lucifer tried to attack you.

You had stepped in front of him and shielded him.

He had been so thankful that Diavolo managed to reach Lucifer in time and stop him from hurting you.

And he made sure to tell you as much when you were resting up in his bedroom after the attack.

Yet, when that conversation was happening in the Assembly Hall, he said and did nothing to help you.

He could see you growing more and more upset as his brothers talked, but he continued to just stand by and listen.

As soon as you left the Assembly Hall in tears though, Beel knew he had messed up.

He immediately followed after you, genuinely worried about you.

When he finally caught up to you, Beel immediately wrapped you into his arms, pulling you closely into him.

Panic was filling every inch of his body as he tried to come up with the right words.

In the end, he told you, “My brothers were just kidding.”

You let out a small chuckle, gently pulling away from Beel and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I know that what they were saying wasn’t completely true, but Satan was right. I don’t have anyone down here that cares about me,” you replied, and Beel’s lip turned into a frown.

He looked so sad and lost at your words that you almost felt like you needed to comfort him.

“When I asked you why you protected me and Luke, you told me it was because we were your friends and we were important to you,” Beel began, and your eyes locked with his indigo ones. 

“You’re my friend too, and you’re important to me,” Beel added with a small smile that portrayed how sincere he was being you.

His expression was enough to bring a small smile to your face and you allowed yourself to open up to Beel.

You knew that the whole experience brought the two of you closer, and you knew that Beel was someone who would always be there for you and someone you could always turn to.

[11vr1]

Been Away ⭒ Miles Morales

Synopsis › You were tired of his secrets and lies, so you did the one thing you promised you’d never do and walked away. But Miles Morales wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Inspo › “Been Away” - Brent Faiyaz

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, Angst, the tiniest bit of fluff, pet names, spanish, a microscopic amount of manipulation, toxicity, going back to your ex, stalking, harassment, mentions being mugged, mentions being stabbed, mentions the police

P.S. › I do my best work when I’m sleep deprived.

P.S.S. › Reading comments and reblogs really make my day, even if you’re telling me my commas suck. Requests are also open.

Y/n pulled down the sleeves of her crocheted sweater as she stepped out of the bodega, white plastic bag of chips and candy in hand. The sun was close to setting behind skyscrapers and plunging New York City into its usual state of terror. It was dangerous to be alone on the streets, but Y/n figured she’d be fine walking a few blocks to her friend’s place. She pushed through sidewalk traffic, passing others who were just as eager to be safe in their homes.

Her phone chimed with a text.

Unknown: Turn left.

She paused, looking up to scan her surroundings. There was nothing strange or out of place. Just stores closing up for the night and people minding their own business. Despite how normal everything seemed to be, Y/n knew better. She spared a glance at the alley to her left, immediately deciding against it and kept walking.

Another chime. She ignored it and the next. Stopping wasn’t worth possibly ending up on the eleven o’clock news. At least that’s what she told herself. The less rational part of her mind had a thought. In some ways more terrifying than being mugged.

Tucked away in her pocket, her phone rang. This time she checked. Unknown. Y/n scoffed, rejecting the call.

Unknown: One more chance.

Unknown: Take a left.

Unknown: I won’t ask again.

Her phone rang once more. With a long, begrudging sigh Y/n swiped to accept. “I thought you weren’t going to ask again,” she said, her eyes darting warily to the darkening street.

“Make a left, Y/n,” a deep distorted voice ordered from the other line. Her heart dropped. Maybe the irrational part of her brain wasn’t as off kilter as she thought. The call hung up like she didn’t need anymore convincing.

The yawning mouth of an alley stared back at her. She took a calming breath, inhaling the morning rain before stepping away from any potential witnesses. Her footsteps echoed in the eerie silence of the alley. Her skin heated in either fear or anticipation, she didn’t know. “I don’t have all night,” she spoke into the open air. “I will leave.” Y/n attempted to hide the tremble in her throat.

Her ringtone was shrill in the alley. She jumped. The bright smiling photo of her friend illuminated her face. She did not hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“Thank god! You’re still alive. Are you close?”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, Ellie,” Y/n began to exit the alley. “The bodega line was long.” She rustled her haul of snacks.

“It’s getting dark. I can send my brother to meet you. Ya know he’s always had a bit of a thing for you and now that you’re single…” Ellie trailed off. Y/n could practically hear her smile.

She rolled her eyes, laughing nervously, “You don’t have to make him come get me. I’ll be—” She was cut off by her own scream ripping from her throat. A streak of darkness and neon flashed in front of her, swiping the phone from her hand. Her grocery bag tumbled to the concrete as she stumbled over her heels. Cold metal met her back. A well defined arm snaked around her waist, held her impossibly tight.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Her friend’s voice rose over the speakers.

The smooth phone screen pressed against her cheek. “Tell her you’re okay then hang up,” the same warped voice demanded in her ear.

Y/n felt her lips move before he ended the call. Some quick lie about a monstrous rat. Blood thrummed through her skull along with her ragged breaths.

“Let me go!” Y/n wrestling out of his grip with no resistance, finally turning around. She halted. Pixelated eyes narrowed at her. What had she been expecting? Was a mask better?

Getting slashed for the money in her wallet and being left for dead by a dumpster was starting to sound more appealing than her current situation.

Mechanic panels whirred and parted open. Rich, penetrating dark eyes took in every inch of the girl in front of him, peeling back layer after layer in that calculating glare Y/n knew all too well. “Hola, mami.”

She hoped to never hear that name fall from anyone’s lips. Much less his. Y/n allowed a selfish moment to let her gaze wander. His braids were fresh, obviously not her work. Fade clean. Jay’s untied. Bronze skin annoyingly flawless. He was the same, except for the faint bags decorating his eyes. His chuckle bounced off the brick walls, catching her. It was sobering.

“You have one minute, Morales. One minute before I run screaming and call the feds on your ass,” she crossed her arms.

“Morales?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Is that what we doin’ now?”

“Fifty.”

He circled her like the predator he was, each footstep deafening. “You look good, ma. Where you goin’ so late? It’s not safe.”

“You know where! You’ve been following me, remember? How long have you been doing that for? Just another secret, huh?” Y/n was on the verge of yelling, her initial fear replaced by pure rage. “You’re not even going to deny it.”

Miles dared a step forward. Y/n took two back. “You’re afraid of me.” Her lack of an answer was a shattering confirmation.

“I’m afraid of what you do, Miles,” she motioned to his suit, the spray painted insignia physically painful to see on his chest. The Prowler. She would have never fathomed the possibility if she hadn’t seen him in action herself. “You’re a criminal. You steal. You’ve killed people,” she choked trying to swallow back tears.

He dragged a gloved hand down his face. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right! I don’t get it. You changed and I don’t understand why.” Her waterline welled. Three months of suppressed feelings threatened to rear their ugly heads when he was near. Because of him, of course.

It was ironic how much he made her feel, even now. Ellie, other friends, Y/n’s family never fully warmed up to Miles. He was unfeeling, nonchalant, closed off. They couldn’t see how a girl like her could fall for him and stay. At least that’s the promise she made.

“So did you. You walked away. Left me. What happened to our forever, Y/n?”

“You expected nothing to change? In what world would I not react or feel some typa way?” She tensed. Another wave of anger seared through her veins. How dare he turn this on her? “Oh wait,” her laugh was humorless. “I was never supposed to find out.”

“I have to do this. The world ain’t right and I need to protect the people I care about,” he placed a hand over his armor, over his chest. “I couldn’t do shit about my dad, but you…” He stalked closer. This time she didn’t back away.

Miles grasped her hand, placing it over his heart. She couldn’t face his intensity for too long, not without air. He wore the same musky cologne she gifted him for Christmas.“Mirame,” he tilted her delicate face towards him. “Mi corazón, I can keep you safe. You gotta let me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do.” His chiseled features twisted, barely able to utter the words. He finally closed the space between them, resting his forehead against hers.

“One minute,” Y/n whispered. It had been more than one minute.

Without separating, he slowly slipped her phone into her back pocket, letting his fingers linger by the waist of her jeans. “Call them. I’ll stay right here and you can end this. You’ll never have to see me again. Prometo, mi corazón.”

She should have listened when Ellie told her to stay away. Undeniably gorgeous, genius level intellect, sexy accent. There was always a catch, she said. She was right. But there was one drawback not even her best friend predicted.

Y/n pulled away. Suddenly the autumn air was too chilly through her sweater. She unlocked her phone. Typed 9-1-1. She looked up through her lashes at Miles as if he would melt into the shadows and escape. She didn’t expect sheer defeat to paint his face, unhidden behind his usual mask of indifference. Her thumb froze.

Miles Morales had Y/n entranced. He’d woven himself into her being, hollowed out a space in her soul just for him. Those titanium claws were in deep and she didn’t know if she had the strength to pry them out or wanted to.

Y/n pocketed her phone. She resigned to every emotion she harbored for the boy in front of her. She chose every wrong decision. “Go, Miles.”

His grin was smug. “Should I call you?”

“Don’t push it, Morales.” He draped his arms around her shoulders, dragged her into his warmth. “I’ll unblock you. Sound good?”

Miles angled his head. His smile stretched to his eyes, showing those rarely seen dimples. “Sí, mami. Whatever you want.”

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 8.

Going down the rabbit hole that is your mirror a third time feels a little more normal. Even though traveling through it to begin with is the definition of crazy, you’ve started to get used to it. Just like the last two times you awaken to your bedroom, you feel smothered by that sensation of being forced under something heavy and lying on a fluff cloud. Your mirror ripples and gleams a bright white light that beckons you forward. 

You’re not exactly prepared for this, but you don’t have any time to. You throw off the odd feeling blankets and make your way to the mirror, which is sparkling in its usual white light. 

You take a deep dream breath to steady your nerves. You want this trip through the looking glass to be different this time. Instead of you stumbling through the mirror world completely blind, you need to go through determined to find answers. 

You’re smart enough to recognise the pattern. Whatever happens there seems to happen in your dreams, to some effect, have happened in real life. The painted roses, the cards soldiers, and Ace and Deuce, being beheaded by the Queen for breaking the rules. There’s a pattern and if it keeps up tonight, then tomorrow during the duel something is going to happen that will be similar to your dreams. 

Plus, there’s also the King of Hearts. He and Alice were the only ones who could see you so far, and Winston was the darling of the Queen. There had to be something that he knew that could help you. And if your dreams were really sending you back in time to meet them, then he had to know something that can help you. Even if it was a tiny detail, you needed to know.

Plus. If your deduction was correct, then Crowley had done jack all since you arrived to send you back home, then maybe you could find something out from someone like you. A darling that’s terrified. If it’ll lead back home, it's worth a shot, right?

Now invigorated with courage, you place your hand on the glass, and it ripples. And you’re pulled into wonderland.

You’re somewhere unfamiliar. As in it doesn’t look like the rose maze anymore. In fact, this place looks very different. 

The rose garden is beautiful, the hallway you’re in now is ominous. Even with the gaudy red hearts. The black, white and red are smothering here. The hallways narrow, but ornate. It’s covered with heart-covered and heart-shaped vases, picture frames, and statues. The hallway’s lit up by heart shaped lamps that glow gray, meant to give off light but feel the room feel so dark. The manic and exaggerated shapes and the monotony of the overwhelming crimson red makes you feel a little tremble. 

You take hesitant steps down the hall, scanning them for anything helpful or clues. 

“This is…new.” And so far what’s new makes you feel chills. “What is the mirror trying to show me n-”

A deafening roar of <Off With Their HEADS!!!> echoes through the halls and interrupts your thoughts and makes you jump in surprise. The roar makes the decor shake and rattle, some fall and shatter. 

You gulp nervously and your heart speeds up. This doesn’t feel right.

Another roar fills the air <SILENCE!!> makes you hasten your footsteps. Whatever’s happening you're missing it, and you need all the help you can get right now. 

You run down the hall to nowhere, finding no doorways, until the hall ends. It’s a single door, knee high and heart shaped. 

“How the hell am I supposed to-” Another roar fills the hall and breaks a nearby lamp. “Alright, I’m going!” You shove it open and crawl through, and it shrinks around you just to make things worse, After a mild struggle, you finally get through, something better be on the other side-

Something grabs you by the back of your pajamas, and you hauled up to be faced with the King of Hearts. 

And he looks angry. <What are you doing here?!> He whisper-yells, shaking you by your shoulders. 

“I-I-” 

You don’t get to put a word in, and shit must’ve hit the fan hard when you were gone because Winston starts ranting. <What are you, the Cheshire Cat!? You were there one moment and gone the next! I’m stressed out of my mind trying to keep a girl alive and you just keep popping up to make things even more stressful!!!> He pauses for a moment, to recollect himself, <H-How did you even get here?!>

“I used the door-” You turn and point to find no door or wall and instead find a sharp decline into a certain death behind the haphazard judge’s bench. “Nevermind” You quickly finish as you take a nervous step back from the ledge. 

<Well,  it doesn’t matter you have to->

<Winston, sweetheart, who are you speaking too?> The voice that pipes up is mockingly fond. As if they’re entertaining a child speaking to an imaginary friend. You look past Winston, to see a stout woman that looks suspiciously like the Queen of Hearts.

No seriously, her mocking, smiling face looks so punchable, that it reminds you of Riddle. A heart shaped with high cheekbones, and a glare that rivals Riddle Rosehearts, her black hair is tied up into a rose shape, slick backed, smooth and orderly. Her dress is extravagant even in the field of black and white, red undertones over taking the dress. Her crown is larger than Winston's, cementing to you that she is in charge and he’s unwillingly along for the ride.

She looks like a real person this time. Are your dreams progressing? Becoming more detailed?

Winston looks at her incredulously, you can hear him mutter, <C-Can’t you see her?...> Pointing in your direction confused. 

<There’s no one there, Winston. Are you imaging things again?> The King of Hearts spares you a conflicted look, before finally agreeing with her.

<I must be…..> He says after a few long moments.

<Of course sweetheart. How could you survive without me?> She chuckles to herself, and you feel the urge to punch someone again. 

A soft voice snaps you out of it. <Um…Your Majesty?> You finally notice Alice from her place down below. She looks a mix of exasperated, confused and terrified as she stands in the defendant’s chair. The Queen redirects her ire back to Alice as soon as she raises her voice. She screams like a banshee and roars like a violent loud animal. 

You take advantage of the noise to speak to Winston. “Winston I-”

He interrupts you, losing himself to his ramblings, <I’ve finally lost, haven’t I?> Winston laughs bitterly. <You’re not real, you’re just a figment of my imagination…>

“No. You haven’t and I’m not.” You push, desperate to make him see reason, “Alice has seen me before, I’m real!” You hurriedly whisper-yell. 

<Then if you’re real then you have to help Alice and you have to help me->

<HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY TO YOU!> A cake and teapots, and all the fixing that remind you of the buffet yesterday at Heartslabyul. The Queen and nearly everyone in the room are excitedly celebrating while Winston and Alice look exasperated. Seemingly exhausted from the shenanigans that are ensuing before you.

“W-What’s happening?” You raise an eyebrow in complete confusion. Yesterday an unbirthday party made sense because it was a party at a dorm then a trial room with a death sentence. 

Winston sighs in abject misery, <A trial.  I did it to save Alice from losing her head, but this nonsense is a trial. And I thought back home was crazy.>

You perk up at his words. Back home means that he’s not from wonderland so if that’s the case…Just to be sure, you ask. “You’re not from here?”

He looks at you curiously, still halfway between believing you’re real or not, <I-I’m from London, England. I came here by accident and have been stuck here ever since.>

“You know where London is?” You feel hope bloom in your chest, “Are you from Earth?”

<Yes, but->

You interrupt him in your budding excitement, “Then you have to help me! I’m stuck here, like you and Alice!”

<Regardless of whether you’re real or fake, I-I can’t help you! If Mary finds out, I tried to escape again, heads will roll! >

You haul the king up by his shirt. “Would you rather be stuck here forever?! If there’s a way out, we need to take it!” You can ignore the ‘being stuck here ever since’ part for now, because if he and Alice (who are real in this world) come from Earth and know about a way back, then that means there’s a way back to your world from Twisted Wonderland. Alice goes home at the end of the story, so there is a way back home for you in this world. And you need that way out. You just need to get to it. 

<I’ll help you on one condition.>

“Anything!”

<Help Alice. I can’t let another person die.> And then he shoves you. And then you're falling. You don’t even get the opportunity to scream as you’re pushed. Falling off that deathly edge, and hitting the floor hard. 

“Ow….” Damnit Winston, if you weren’t stuck in the same situation as him, you’d curse him out

<Miss, you’re back!> You slowly open your eyes to see Alice standing over you in worry, still completely black and white. <W-Where did you come from?>

“A place like you.” Alice lights up at your words,  “How’s your trial going?” only to deflate five seconds later. 

<It doesn’t make any sense, this trial doesn’t follow any rules.> You climb to your feet brushing off the imaginary dust off your dream self. 

“No, it does.” You’re forced to admit. “They’re just horrible rules.”

<Well, this really isn’t-> Whatever justifiable statement is cut off by the Queen being undistracted by the unbirthday celebrations. 

You don’t even know what happened next. 

One moment, Alice is pointing out the Cheshire Cat, her words, on the Queen’s head, and the next the Queen is a mess of jam and her torn flag, with a new bump on her crazy head. And Alice is holding the mallet and jam when the Queen finally clears her eyes. 

Winston bangs his head on the judges bench in defeat, at the sight of the mayhem.

“OFFF with-” the Queen interrupts herself, as Alice hurriedly stuffs her face with two pieces of something you don’t recognise. Her eyes go wide for a moment, as  her muscles twitch and her body contorts in places. She then grows over a mile high. Because of how rapidly she grew, you end up on the giantess Alice’s shoulders. 

<Oh, are you alright?> Alice asks, concerned. You give her a thumbs up in reply as the nausea in your gut trembles, before giving way. Now calmed, knowing one of her few friends here are okay, Alice focuses her attention on the tyrant whose red face has gone pale. <And as for you, Your Majesty….’Your Majesty,’ indeed!> The mushroom that Alice ate causes her to grow as tall as the trial room ceiling is high. You cling to her shoulder with your nails, not wanting to fall from this height. What crack did you smoke last night to dream this? Anyway,  Alice takes her moment to finally tell off the pompous queen, with all the confidence that a seven year old can have. 

The queen shrinks back in surprise at the seven-year old’s new size, and Alice chooses this to be the time to finally tell off the tyrant. 

<Why, you’re not a queen. You’re just a fat, pompous, bad-tempered old ty…tyrant…> As if Alice couldn’t get any more unlucky, the mushroom’s magic wears off as she starts to lay down the facts. Her confidence dies as she shrinks back to size.  You tumble off of Alice’s shoulder as she shrinks smaller and smaller. And the longer she speaks, the more the Queen’s glare gets more and more murderous.

<Mmhmmhmmhmm….> You, even at this distance, can see the fear painting across the King’s face and worry on Alice’s. This isn’t good, and the longer the Queen holds that note the more grim those looks become. You embrace the shaking girl. You can hear her whimpers of ear the longer this draws out. <What were you saying, my dear?>

A cat pops onto the head of the Queen, reminding you of Chenya even with the black and white, who parrots the, now shaking, Alice’s words. <Well, she simply said that you’re a fat, pompous, bad tempered old tyrant!> The cat cackles, as the Queen’s face turns red, contrasting the black and white.

<OOOOOOFFF with her head!!!>

You watch as the card soldiers jump from their seats to descend on the two of you as Alice clings to you for dear life, as the card shoulders dive to deliver her to her death sentence. 

But before the avalanche of card soldiers obscure everything from view, you can hear the King of Hearts beg his wife and captor to spare the poor girl. <Darling she’s just a child!>

And then the world blurs.

You’re back in your bed. Alice isn’t in your arms anymore, instead it’s Grim.

Why won’t anyone stop the queen? Someone could have stopped her.

AND THEN YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN YOUR EXIT!! FUCK!

Great. Winston had promised to help you if you helped Alice. And now you can’t go back till you go to bed! And that’s if Alice hasn’t gone home or lost her head yet! YAY!

You groan before sitting up, not expecting the violent pain in your neck. You then hiss in pain, just barely managing to massage the flesh locked under the collar. 

What a great way to start the morning. 

But there was some good news. The tyrant queen will get called out for her tyranny. That’s something to look forward to at the duel today. Still doesn’t make you feel any better though. 

“Ugh, Great.” You rub the exhaustion out of your eyes, to be face to face with Grim. 

“Hey, ____! Ah, good, you’re already up!” 

“Didn’t exactly have the best sleep.” Maybe you should tell grim about your dreams, just in case. But that’s a later thing, “Ready to get these collars off?” 

“Yeah!”

Back at the tyrant’s castle, er, Heartslabyul, the residents have all gathered in the magical battlegrounds within the rose garden. Why someone built a magical battlefield in the middle of a flammable rose maze must have been a tyrant themselves, because why someone didn’t bring up the flammable part at some point during the dorm’s construction was a question you’re not stupid enough to come up with an answer to.

Speaking of tyrants, Riddle must have gone on a power trip stoked by his tantrum yesterday. Because the number of students wearing collars, minus or plus Ace and Deuce pick one, has to have doubled in one night. Seriously, a good quarter of the audience has to be wearing collars. 

And because of said collars, this duel is going to go south real fast. Because Riddle’s already fucking cheating with his signature spell. Seriously, magic nullification should not be allowed in duels like this but for some reason it is.

But back to the duel of the century, for just Heartslabyul. The dorm residents have been gossiping since your group’s arrival….

“Did you hear? They say someone’s challenged Dorm Leader Rosehearts to a duel!”

“Riddle Rosehearts? Seriously?! Whoever it is has gotta be outta his mind. Riddle will have his head off in five seconds flat.”

…about how stupid this decision was. You mean, you agree, but they’re the ones living under a tyrant. Have a little positivity, everyone. 

Thankfully, there are few who have held onto the aforementioned positivity. 

“Still, it’s the first challenge since Rosehearts took power. I’m pumped!” In your opinion, the dorm should be like that guy. That guy has a little faith.

Also, Trey apparently didn’t warn Cater about the duel that was probably going viral on Heartslabyul’s Magicam, because he looks completely shocked as you told him about the shit preparing to hit the fan.  “You’re saying Ace and Deuce are challenging Riddle for the dorm leader’s seat?! Please tell me you’re kidding!”

You sigh, “I’m not, Cater. Wish I was.”

“We tried to stop ‘em.” Correction, Trey. YOU tried to stop them, he sat there and did nothing like with Riddle. Seriously, the bystander effect is strong with Trey; it's like he’s afraid of saying something when he needs to. Did Riddle’s mom traumatize him too!?

Cater looks positively miserable at the revelation. “Of all the stupid ideas…I just hope this doesn’t make everything worse.”

“You and me both.” Trey agrees, but now you're both curious and concerned. Just how much worse is worse?

Crowley’s clearing of his throat silences the crowd’s chatter. Kinda concerning that he's more focused on two students dueling a dorm leader than the rampant abuse of power that’s going on in this dorm, but whatever it’s not like negligence is a crime or something. Though it probably isn’t given your experience so far. 

“We are about to commence two challenges for the dorm leader position at Heartslabyul House.” He announces as grandiose as possible. “The first challenger is Ace Trappola, the second challenger is Deuce Spade. The current housewarden they have challenged is Riddle Rosehearts.”

“Now, in accordance with the duel rules, please remove the magic-sealing collars as they would provide an unfair disadvantage.” Oh, you were waiting for that.

Riddle snaps his fingers and the collars dissolve away into sparks, leaving behind red marks around Ace and Deuce’s necks. Given Ace has been stuck in that thing for two nights you can’t imagine the relief he must feel. “Ah! FINALLY, the dumb collar is off!”

Yours and Grim’s are still on though. Oh, did he just forget that you and Grim were collateral damage to yesterday’s rampage? You can feel your rage rising. 

“Enjoy your moment of freedom. The collar will be back on soon enough.” Riddle’s cocky smirk looks so punchable, and you feel an itch in your fingers. Still cockiness might be his downfall. 

But before that…..

“Hey, Rosehearts!” You call out, “ Just to point something out,” You say as sarcastically and humorlessly as possible, “could you please remove mine and Grim’s. We’re not even in your dorm!” Riddle sighs, as if you’ve been bugging him about this for hours, before finally unlocking the literal weight around your and Grim’s necks. And you breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” The ‘Asshole’ part goes unsaid, for fear of making this worse.

Now, that the cone of shame on your neck is gone you can let them return back to the pre-duel banter. “Carry on.” You say with a dismissive wave of your hand.

Riddle hmphs, returning his focus back to his two challengers. “I could hardly believe it when I heard you two intended to duel me. Is this a joke?”

There’s a “Do I look like I’m joking?” from Ace and a “I’d never propose a duel as a joke!” from Deuce. They’re not backing down now. 

“Hmph. Have it your way. Let us get this over with.” Indeed, let’s get this over with, because you might have a room to clear out when this eventually fizzles out. That doesn’t mean you won’t cheer for Ace and Deuce, Bravery is still something to praise even if it’s on par with stupidity.

But like before, Cater intervenes when he really shouldn’t, “Uh, Riddle, what do you want to do about today's afternoon tea?”

“A foolish question. You know that the rules stipulate I take my tea everyday at 4 PM sharp.” Oh, so he’s cocky that he can finish this in, what, thirty minutes. 

“It’s just that it’s already past 3:30….”

“And you fear that I will be late? All the more reason to end this promptly.” So he’s very cocky. You can only hope it will be his downfall. 

“It appears I have little time to waste. Rather than facing my opponents in succession, I will take on both at once.” Oh. Wow, he’s…..he’s arrogant if he thinks that. Well, Ace and Deuce are probably screwed. 

The cheers of the dorm residents fill the air as stiff and empty as they were yesterday. 

“You can do it, Dorm Leader!”

“Knock ‘em dead, sir!”

You can see Trey shake his head to your  right, so he still hasn’t said anything. Coward.

“Cowards,” you hear Deuce say, and you agree, because you’re looking right at one. To say that you don’t want to hurt his feelings after a hard time, when you’re letting him force that hard time onto others is the definition of cowardice.

“Myah, I got a bad feelin’ about this.” You squeeze Grim tighter. 

“I do too, Grim.” 

“Hey, at least we got a plan!” A plan that already hangs on by a thread, Ace but you’ll accept his confidence. 

“Headmaster, please give us the signal.” Riddle’s already sure of his victory even before it starts, and he might be right, but a part of you wants him to suffer, just a little.

“When the mirror, I’ve thrown shatters upon the ground, that is your signal to begin. Ready…Go!” 

“You guys can do it!” You offer them some encouragement, but….

“OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!” You saw the way this battle ends from miles away.

If you're being generous, you’ll call that another deja vu moment. This insanity of constant ‘beheadings’ is starting to become grating. But, you hope the ending of the calling out part comes sooner rather than later. 

“That was…..fast.” You say glumly, it’s sad that they failed so quickly but at least they tried. It had to be, what, 5 seconds into the duel before the collars locked on and it was over. Saddening, upsetting but expected. 

Well, now what?

“Visualization is key to spell casting.” Crowley starts an unhelpful speech about magic. It’s not really helpful in this situation, because if Riddle has his way from now on Ace and Deuce are going to be wearing those collars till Riddle graduates. “The better you are at accurately visualizing your magic’s effect, the stronger and more precise it will be.”

“They lost in less than ten seconds, you’re not helping Crowley.” You point out the explicitly obvious, because it doesn’t fucking matter about how visualisation is important when a. They lost before they cast a single spell, and b. They can’t even use their magic to practice now. “Still, it would appear Mr.Rosehearts has finely honed his magic.” Ouch, salt in the wound. Stroke the tyrant’s ego even more too. Crowley’s just batting zero right now. 

“Myah…They didn’t stand a chance.” Grim bemoans at the loss. 

You sigh, “Well at least they tried….” it wasn’t really an attempt even but at the very least. You force a smile on your face as you approach your two friends, “You guys did your best, or were going to your best..” You add unhelpfully, before giving them each a gentle smile. . You might have to just let them stay it seems.

Ace opens his mouth to reply but someone else does to add their unhelpful commentary. “Hardly. They didn’t even last five seconds.” You can hear Ace and Deuce growl as you turn to face the cocky tyrant. 

 That cocky, self-righteous brat keeps adding his unwanted opinion. “That was all you had, and still you thought to challenge me? You must be utterly humiliated.”

You glare at him, “You won already. Stop rubbing it in.”

Riddle’s too high on his high horse to seem to be aware of what happens below. “I guess my mother was right. A man who cannot follow rules is a man who cannot achieve anything.” You’re going to put a knife between that woman’s eyes if you ever meet up. Mommy undearest’s parenting has screwed him up so much that he’s doing the same thing to the people he lives with.

If Ace or Deuce actually won this battle he probably would have been run out of the dorm.

“Tch…We agree that rules should be followed. But forcing others to follow nonsensical rules like the ones you’ve enacted is tyranny!” 

“Then you agree that breaking the rules is wrong. And in this dorm, I AM the rules.” Is…is he serious? Did he miss the second part of Deuce’s sentence? “Therefore, those who cannot abide by my decisions deserve not the heads they use to complain!”

You had enough of this.

You’ve bit your tongue bloody, thanks to this brat’s tyranny.  You've been inconvenienced again and again because of his pretentious and frankly ridiculous rules.

 Screw manners, screw survival, and screw this red-haired little absolutist pain the ass! “But that’s not right! You can’t just use the rules to do whatever you please!” You yell in fury. 

“I am the one who decides what is wrong and right-”

You cut him off. “And you’re also a pain in the neck and the ass, that pretends he’s the perfect student that can do no wrong, because mommy said so!” His eyes widen in shock as you finally, finally go off the leash you tethered to yourself this entire time. And you’re not done. “How can you be so blinded by your own delusions that you can’t even see how unreasonable it is to follow, frankly, the most STUPID of rules!?!” You can feel your cheeks warming and the blood in your ears roaring in boiling hot fury. You can feel someone try to calm your rage with a hand, Deuce’s, on your shoulder. You’re pissed and tired and angry and what does he do?

He continues talking like you didn’t say anything. “If there were no penalties, no one would follow the rules.” You;re going to punch him. 

“You!-” What he says next cuts your thoughts and words off completely.

“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules? Clearly, you were born to parents with no great magical capability. As a result…you lack even the basic education necessary to attend a school such as this. It’s quite sad.”

You blink, taken aback. The rage in you is stunned into pacification. 

He did not. 

He did not just say that about you.

“You-” You can’t even string your thoughts together completely stunned. You can forgive someone being unreasonableYou feel something different from rage, something stronger, boiling inside you. 

“You little…” Deuce releases you, prepared to pummel the tyrant into the ground but…..

“You shut your spoiled little mouth!” Ace dashes forward fist raised and-

He punches Riddle clean across the face. 

Hard enough to knock Riddle off his feet. Ace quite literally beat Deuce to the punch. 

So many voices speak up in shock and surprise at Riddle, the untouchable dorm leader, finally eating his just desserts. Right in the face too.

You don’t say anything, staring at what’s about to unfold, with a blank expression.

“That’s all I can take. Forget Riddle. Forget the duel. I’m done.” Just like Alice in your dreams last night, calls out the now stunned red sovereign.

“That hurt! You…p-punched me?!” Riddle’s genuinely stunned. Is stunned by his house of cards finally starting to collapse around him? You can’t bring yourself to care. 

Ace spits some facts. 

“Kids aren’t trophies for their parents to flaunt. And the accomplishments of a child aren’t determined by the worth of their parents. It’s  not your parents’ fault you became a tyrant -or anyone else’s. You’ve been here a year and haven’t even made a friend who will tell you you’re outta line. And that’s on you.”

“What are you even talking about?” 

“Yeah, maybe you had some rigid upbringing from a relentless helicopter-mom. Is that all you are? An extension of her? Can’t you think for yourself? You call yourself the ‘red sovereign’. You’re just a baby who’s good at magic.”

“Baby…? Did you just call me a ‘baby’?! You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know anything about anything!” But despite the honest truths that Ace is trying to make the pretentious tyrant hear for what has to be the first time in his life, Riddle refuses to listen.

“Nope, sure don’t. And I don’t need to. Your attitude tells me all I need to know- that you’re nothing but a spoiled brat!” Ace doesn’t let up on the lecture Riddle probably needed to hear last year. 

Riddle’s face is starting to turn pink from his blind anger. “Shut up, shut up, shut UP! My mother was right! And that means I’m right too!” Riddle practically roars in anger. He’s shaking from barely repressed rage. 

Trey steps between them to prevent what has to be a near disaster, trying to pacify the screaming tyrant. “Riddle, calm down. The duel is already over.”

“Mr. Clover is correct.” Crowley  The challenger has been disqualified due to physical violence. If you do not cease your conflict now, I’ll have you written up for breaking school rules!” But even with the threat of breaking his own personal rules and being a rule breaker himself doesn’t soothe his rage. It doesn’t matter here anyway, because as long as no one is willing to stand up to-

“Ace is right, though! I’ve had enough of Riddle!” A voice in the crowd shouts, and he throws something small aimed directly at Riddle’s head.

An egg cracks in Riddle’s hair. Egg goop trails down his face. You fight back a laugh with all your willpower. Well, color you impressed. The card soldiers aren't completely useless, brain dead drones. 

For half a second everyone is frozen solid. And then the egg practically cooks on Riddle’s face as he searches for the offender, completely infuriated. “Who did that? Who threw that egg?!”

And this time, the silence feels both suffocating and glorious. At least the cowards have finally stood up for themselves, at least a little. Unfortunately Riddle, instead of taking the obvious hint the egg to the face was, he laughs. And it’s not a composed one.

“Heh heh…Ah ha ha ha!”  It’s an insane one.

Riddle snaps at all of the now cowering dorm students“You say YOU’RE fed up?! I’M the one who’s fed up with all of YOU!” 

“No matter how strict I am, no matter how many heads I remove, you keep breaking the rules! All any of you care about is doing what YOU want to do! If the guilty party won’t come forward, then I’ll pass judgment on all of you!”

“Clearly, none of you value your heads! OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!!!” Like a tyrant gone wild, collars lock on to every single one of the residents' necks, save Trey and Cater, sealing off their magic.  You’re getting real tired of hearing that. 

The Heartslabyul residents scatter like headless, heh pun unintended but fitting, chickens. “Bwaaah! Let’s get out of here!” “Urrrgh!” 

Riddle, reassured that his tyranny will last,  shoves past Ace to rub in his ‘victory’ to Ace.“How do you like that, hm? Now no one can do a thing to me! Do you see now? My strict adherence to the rules was clearly the correct path!”

Crowley still does nothing to calm, or now that Riddle’s actually broken some rules, to punish Riddle for this insanity. “Cease this improper behavior now, Mr. Rosehearts. I expect better from you!”

“Crowley, could you maybe actually do something!?!” You finally point out the utter stupidity of him not doing anything while Riddle literally abuses his power. 

“Uh…Trey, if he keeps using his spell…This could get ugly, fast!” You barely hear Cater over the chaos.

Trey does, still trying to separate the fuming  Riddle away from Ace and a catastrophe. “Riddle, stop this!”

Ace might be perspective but he’s incapable of reading the room when shit really starts to go bad. “Wow, way to totally prove me wrong here, pal! I call you a baby and you immediately throw a temper tantrum!”

Riddle’s face goes deep crimson. “Retract your comment immediately, or I shall skewer you where you stand!” He yells. 

This might not be good.

Ace doesn’t let up “No way. I ain’t retraction’ squat.”

Face red, eyes full of rage and mania, Riddle’s reached the point of fury where words are impossible and yells of anger are the only sounds that can be made. “YEEEAAARGH!!!”

“Dude, this is bad! You’ve G-2-G, now!” You feel a hand on your wrist, Cater's, dragging you away from the rampaging tyrant.

And then you're blinded by the debris.The earth shakes for too long as the rose bushes are yanked out of the earth, the fragile yet heavy bushes floating high in the air. Ripped up from their earth , roots and all, and float in mid-air. The roses and their thorny brambles writhe under Riddle’s magic.

Debris and dirt float through the air, alongside the rose bushes. 

“W…Whoa…” You take a nervous step back, “Shit.” 

“The rose trees! They’re floating!”

“This is some serious magic!”

The roses and their brambles might not be the strongest weapon, but Riddle’s magical strength is powerful, as you watch the roses and branches become arrows, perfect for tearing flesh from bone and crushing the rest. 

“Mighty roses, tear this brute to pieces!” Riddle yells, completely blinded at his anger. The roses, thorns and all fly like arrows aimed directly at Ace. A deadly shot, if it lands.

“Ace! MOVE!” You dash forward, but a pair of arms are around your waist holding you back from the barrage of arrows aimed at your friend. You look around frantically and you see who’s stopping you from helping the first friend you made here. It’s Deuce. When did he get next to you? Nevermind. “Lemme go! Ace needs help!” 

Deuce shakes his head with a remorseful expression. “I can’t let you get hurt!”

Since you can’t get to Ace, “Crowley! DO something!” You yell at the Headmaster who’s done jack diddly since Riddle’s tantrum progressed into hemorrhage. All he’s done here is politely ask Riddle to stop, and Ace might actually die if Riddle keeps at this. 

“Cease and desist at once!” Crowley doesn’t do anything, but yells at him to stop, and Riddle’s already too angry to listen.

But it’s too late for any one to push Ace out of the way, 

“ACE!” You can’t even shut your eyes as the roses and brambles come down. You take back every thing you’ve ever said about Ace, and this world if it means you don’t witness him being killed….

…..By playing cards?

Instead of roses and their thorns tearing Ace to shreds….playing cards fall from the sky.

“Huh? I’m still alive?” Ace is as stunned as you and everyone else here. 

Deuce is probably as stunned as you, because his arms go limp, and you practically tackle Ace, “Are you okay!?” Your arms and legs are jelly from adrenaline, but you manage to stumble over and check him over with trembling hands. 

“Y-Yeah,”He answers and you sigh in clear relief.  What’s with all these playing cards?”

“All the rose trees turned into cards?” Deuce is right, All the roses and their brambles are gone. Instead it’s all playing cards. And nothing more. How did that even happen?!

Wait. Deja vu again, this keeps happening. Cards falling against an innocent. But there’s no time for that. 

Because Riddle’s face is murderous, and his grip on his magical staff is so tight it could have snapped in half. He raises it again, prepared to recast as “Why didn’t you-”

Deuce dives in between you and Ace, to act as human shield but Trey stops him, shielding you all from Riddle’s view. “Riddle, stop this right now!” Oh, so NOW Trey decides enough is enough, murder was the last straw. Wonderful. 

“Wait, is that Trey’s ‘Paint the Roses’?! But…how?!” You can hear a confused Cater, and thank goodness, because Trey saved Ace’s life. 

“All the magic sealin’ collars are gone!” Grim’s right, You didn’t even notice in the mayhem. Ace and Deuce, and probably all the Heartslabyul residents, all have their magic-sealing collars removed. 

“What did I tell you? My magic can overwrite characteristics for a short time. So I used it to make ‘Riddle’s magic’ into ‘my magic’.” Trey’s explanation lets you breathe a sigh of genuine relief. At least now, Riddle is defenseless.

“You can do that? That’s some kinda loophole!” And a lucky loophole to test on someone about to die.

Meanwhile in Crazy town, Riddle’s discovered his magic’s no longer his own. “N-no…Off with their heads! I SAID, off with their heads!” Every attempt Riddle makes to cut off everyone’s magic just causes more and more playing cards to fly out. But depending on how short the time Trey’s magic can work, that might not be for long. Especially with how many times Riddle tries recasting. 

Trey finally puts his foot down. “Riddle, stop. Can’t you see how you look right now?”

You can’t believe that this is what it took to finally open the eyes of the residents. Ace nearly being murdered because Riddle’s ego got bruised. At least now, their eyes have been opened to the true extent of Riddle’s cruelty. 

Which they decide to vocalize in the presence of the tyrant with the bruised ego. They’re not very smart. are they? 

“He…he was really gonna do it!” “He is completely out of control.” “He’s like some kinda monster!”

Thankfully, and unfortunately, Riddle isn’t focused on that. Instead, he’s more concerned with the fact that his magic isn’t his anymore. And Trey is the reason. “What? Was my magic overwritten by yours? Does that mean your signature spell is stronger than mine?!” He demands, turning on the only one who ever really defended him in his madness. 

“Of course it doesn’t. Riddle, take a deep breath and listen to us.” Trey tries to reason, but it’s too late for Riddle to be reasonable, with him already lost in the throes of his anger.

You start to feel a chill up your spine, like back in the mines with that monster. But why are you-

Still completely unreasonable, Riddle’s still deaf to Trey's words, “Are YOU going to tell me that I’m wrong too? After all I’ve done to protect the rule of law?! Do you know how much I’ve suffered for this?! I…I refuse to believe this!” That chill gets worse, and the ominous and malicious feeling you’re getting from Riddle gets worse. Something much darker. A line of dark blood drips from Riddle’s nose. Wait, that’s not blood. Blood isn’t….black.

You might be angry about earlier, but unlike Riddle, you haven’t lost your wits. You can tell when things are nose-diving into a downward spiral at terminal velocity. Because the longer Riddle spits his mad ravings, the more of that black stuff comes out.

You normally wouldn’t do this, mostly because you want to punch the bastard. But that inky stuff has to be a bad omen. “Riddle, you need to calm down.” You try to soothe the raging beast, even though you’re sure that this is a bad idea. “You don’t want to be a rulebreaker, right? So just calm down and we’ll talk this out.”

“Wha-OW!” Ace looks at you as if you’d gone insane too, but you elbowed him harshly in the gut. 

Riddle’s angry glare falls on you. And you could see the veins starting to twitch under his skin. If he gets any more angry, then he might have a stroke. “ I! AM NOT! A RULE BREAKER!” He yells, his own rage leaving him breathless. “AND YOU! OF ALL PEOPLE! HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!”

“I’m just trying to calm you down, you don’t really want to break the rules by hurting anyone, do you?” You hope he doesn’t actually want to hurt anyone. Plus, you’re really not ready to witness someone’s death. 

Riddle’s face is so red, it looks like it might explode. And his glare could kill you and cook the remains with how fiery it is. 

He snaps, his voice laden with venom. 

“YOU! DARLINGS LIKE YOU! ARE WHY WE NEED THE RULES! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT TO ME!”

…..What.

Did he just- 

No way, he just did. He did. 

Shit. Shit...SHIT. 

FUCK YOU, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS!

You did NOT go through all that shit for him to reveal it to everyone here in a fit of rage. No fuck him, fuck this, whatever shit he has going on can wait because you need this bastard’s neck to be the other way round. 

You feel fire burn under your skin. You’re gonna-

“Wait, wha-” You hear , and you don’t even have the ability to freeze up in terror. Because you gotta disperse the potential nightmare of Ace and Deuce finding out. Even if they don’t believe him, the doubt will remain. So you’re basically fried. 

“It’s nothing!” You frantically yell to cut off whatever Ace or  Deuce were going to say as fast as you can as you feel your heart speed up in total panic.  You’ll be lucky if they think this is a psychotic rambling of a raging tyrant. This just keeps getting worse and worse for you. 

If Riddle doesn’t get killed in this madness, then he owes you an apology and you owe him a big, fat fist to the face. 

Meanwhile as you prepare for your own mental breakdown, Crowley maintains his complete and utter uselessness, even though he probably has the power to stop this. “Cease immediately, Mr. Rosehearts! Any further attempt to use magic will leave your magestone completely tainted with blot!”

What is blot?! 

And why is Riddle-

“But….I’m right! I’M the one who’s right! There is NO! POSSIBLE! ALTERNATIVE!” Thick, black inky substance  comes out of his eyes and ears. 

“Riddle, stop!” Trey’s words can’t pull Riddle out of his madness and likely never will. 

Because all that black ink dripping out of nearly every pore, staining his skin and clothes, pools around him for only a few seconds. Before it engulfs him, swallowing him whole. 

And like a caterpillar metamorphosing into a horrific butterfly…..

…..he comes out a monster.

Like a horrible chrysalis bursting open, Riddle comes out changed. 

His skin is so pallid, the color could have been mistaken for bone. A red flame is positioned over his right eye, glowing an unnatural color. The ink that bleed out of his skin sticks to his arm and face like tar. And most identifiably, he’s dressed like the Queen of Hearts. Sort of, if she was beheaded and her body was thrown in her beloved rose garden to be torn apart by the hedgehogs. (A fitting fate in your eyes)

The tyrant has changed to match his predecessor, both over-controlling monsters. 

But that’s not the most terrifying part of it. 

There’s also the giant hulking beast tethered to Riddle’s back.  And that’s the most defining feature. Because that thing matches your dreams of the Queen of Hearts. The monster is dressed in a dress nearly identical to the one from your second dream. She’s even carrying a rose bush, torn from another world’s ground.

This is not good. And you’re suddenly very afraid of what will happen next.

The possessed? Riddle cackles, “You are fools to defy me! You are not welcome in my world. In my world, I am the law. I am order made manifest!” His voice is warped and distorted as if someone otherworldly is speaking through him.

“The only response I will accept from you is ‘Yes, Dorm Leader Riddle.’ All who defy me will lose their heads! Ah ha ha ha HA!” 

“Dear me, what have I done? I’ve allowed a student to overblot in my presence!” What the fuck is overblot!?

“Crowley? What the HELL is overblot!?” You demand an explanation to this madness, because Riddle is both a monster, and has a massive monster connected to his spine. Seriously, what the shit is this!?!

“Overblot is a dangerous condition that mages must avoid at all costs. At the moment, he is overcome by negative energy and has lost control of his magic and emotions.”

“Okay but what does that mean?!” 

“Please explain!”

“To put it in layman’s terms, he’s in evil berserker mode!”

“If he keeps releasing magical energy, we could be looking at a loss of life here- his included.” 

“WHAT!” You feel your eye twitch, “CROWLEY! WHY DIDN’T YA JUST TELL ME ALL THIS SHIT WHEN I GOT HERE!!” It can’t be that hard, can it? How hard is it to give the unfortunate transfer student from another world or dimension a simple crash-course of ‘hey, here’s some things you should know about our world!’, for crap’s sake. 

“Ms. ____-” 

“Nevermind, Crowley! We’ll deal with the evil giant monster thing now, I’ll freak out later!” And freak out you will. Riddle outed you, overblotted and could kill someone or multiple someones if this shit goes south. Forget punching him, you’re going to beat him so bad that smug arrogant face of his will be unrecognizable when you're done with him.You are fucking tired of this shit already, and when you think it’s bad it just gets worse.

“Yes! The well-being of my students is my top priority. Therefore, I must evacuate them immediately.”

“Y-You’re not staying?”. You say weakly. Was the bar for headmaster requirements in hell? Yes, there is a giant monster/dorm leader attacking the running and hiding Heartslabyul residents but this is a MAGIC school for shit’s sake. “No, but as for Mr.Rosehearts, we must restore his consciousness before his magical energy runs dry.” Damnit Crowley! “For as bad as losing him would be, there are scenarios that are far worse…” WHAT’S WORSE?!?!

“Listen well: I need all of you to seek help from the other housewardens and members of faculty.” But how the hell are going to all evacuate and summon the other housewardens if Riddle is-

While the exposition dump was happening, the beast behind Riddle follows his body movements, and still fueled by all the anger that caused this whole mess to start in the first place, raises the rose bush like a club, prepared to strike down one of the unfortunate Heartslabyul students.

Ace and Deuce finally allowed to use their magic, do what they’ve wanted to do since yesterday. Strike the pretentious dorm leader down.

“HIIYAH! TAKE THAT!” A strong magical gust knocks the beast’s weapon away from its original target. And annoys the furious Riddle. 

“Huh!? Trey, Cater and Crowley look and sound bewildered at the attack, but you feel a rush of pride. 

“I summon thee, cauldron!” Deuce takes advantage of Riddle’s change in focus to strike. With his infamous cauldron spell. Riddle manages to dodge it, but at least he’s not attacking the students any more!

“MYAH!” Grim leaps out of your arms to join the attacks, sending a wave of blue fire along with Ace and Deuce’s own attacks. 

Now even more pissed ( a surprise to be honest) Riddle fumes at their lack of submission. “What do you fools think you’re doing?”

“Um, hello?! 911? We’ve got an idiot emergency!” Cater’s internet talk doesn’t fade in times of high stress.

Grim, acting unlike his usual selfish self, actually points out the most frightening part of this, “You DID hear that part about how reeeal bad things are happenin’ with him, right?!”

“That’s why we need to stop him now! I don’t want that on my conscience!” Yah, Riddle straight up sucks but risking the deaths of others to save yourself from certain death is cowardly, and unlike the rampager, you’re not a hypocrite. 

“And I’m not givin’ up till I hear him say, ‘I was wrong and I’m sorry.’”

You’re convinced, “Yeah, he owes me an apology for the shit he put me through!!”

“All right, let’s do this. I can overwrite his magic for a little longer. In the meantime, do what you can! Headmage, please evacuate the other students!”

“Wait! This is dangerous!”

“Are you S-R-S, Trey? You can’t beat Riddle!”

“So what, you’re not even gonna fight unless you KNOW you can win?”

“Yeah, he’s right. That’s weak.”

“This is the only way we can think of to snap him out of this!”

“Yeah…I don’t want to lose him. There’re too many things I’ve left unsaid.”

“We just have to do this, whatever it takes!” You might not be able to do magic, but you’ll help….somehow. 

“Ugh, I do NOT like or subscribe to this, but fine!”

Ngh…I’ll be back as soon as I’ve gotten the students to safety. Stand firm until then!”

“Such defiance, from every last one of you! I shall take all of your heads!”

“Riddle’s body can’t take much more of this. We need to stop him before it’s too late!”

Things are going…..well enough. 

Because how in every layer of hell can you describe this? At all? It’s not everyday that you watch a magician go into berserker mode and try to kill his ‘underlings’ or really equals he’s un/knowingly been abusing for who knows how long?

Here’s the good news. 

Trey’s magic makes the fight easier for them. Replacing Riddle’s UM makes the battle actually possible. 

Cater’s Spilt Card, makes the perfect distraction ones, that he can use as human shields as Riddle strikes.

Even Ace, Deuce and Grim’s inexperience manages to turn the tide. Wind, cauldrons and fire join a barrage of more sophisticated and more complicated spells of the third-years is the perfect combination of brute strength and complicated strategy. 

But here’s the bad news. 

Riddle’s fast. Very fast. 

For every one spell the others cast, Riddle can cast two. and moves twice as fast to replace every one Trey replaces. Which should be impossible with all of his magical energy and life force being drained away but it seems whether he’s a horrific monster or a tyrannical dictator, he’s still a magical prodigy.

What your friends need is a distraction. And they need one fast. And while you might not have magic, you’re not completely powerless here. 

Why? 

Because Riddle’s earlier pique was kind enough to dislodge plenty of stones that once were the floor of the battle ground. Small and light enough for you to carry. Large and heavy enough to leave a nasty bruise or a nice headache.

All you hope is that you have good aim. Because this better land right in the face. 

Even with the hail of magic sending wind, ice, fire, cauldrons and other magical bursts in Riddle’s direction, you’re safely hidden in the background and the beast attached to him is otherwise preoccupied with the aforementioned magic, so it’s easy to sneak away. 

You wrap your hand around one of the loose stones of the destroyed battlegrounds, and sneak behind the bushes till you’re a good distance away from the others with a broad distance away from him and that monster. “Hey Rosehearts!” You yell.

He turns to you with a death glare that could actually cut off your head. But as soon as his gaze has fallen on you, you throw the stone as hard as you can.

It hits him square in the forehead. 

Riddle doesn’t even have the time to cry out in pain, as he and the phantom monster stumble back, dazed.

“HA! Take that you controlling bastard!” Sure, you’re saving his life in the process, but considering he just outed you, kicking his ass through this is actually one hell of a relief.

Everyone takes advantage of the distraction you made to send another barrage of magic against Riddle. Still dazed from your strike to his head, probably combined with the damage the overblot was taking on his body, he’s much slower. 

So now, every strike lands without fail, and Riddle barely has time to retaliate now. And that changes the tide of the battle. 

With every new strike, the monster’s body starts to distort and parts of its body start to writhe and twist. The darkness glowing underneath starts to distort and warp. The roots holding it to Riddle's body start to sever. The monster’s distorted roars start to soften, turning weaker. 

“Is it over?” You ask. You feel safe enough to go closer, now that the monster’s body starts to sway and collapse. Riddle looks like he’s about to pass out. “Is he going to die?”

“He better not. He still needs to apologize to me!” Ace 

You sigh in relief for half a second. And the blot around Riddle swarms him. 

You don’t know what switched on within you. You hate this guy. You want to see him suffer a little, or more specifically a lot.

“Henchman!” 

So you don’t know why you ran when you did, or why you grabbed Riddle’s wrist like a vice right before his body disappeared into the mess of dark ink. You grabbed on as tight as you can,  just as the monster finally burst. 

Thick ink, scalding hot like Riddle’s burning rage, hits your skin and burns your face. You scream in reflex, and your mouth burns from the hot, bitter ink entering it. You choke on the blot. It burns. It coats you, covers you, drowns you and your vision swims. But your grip doesn’t let up. 

“_____!!!” You hear many voices screaming your name. But you can’t see them. The burning black ink falls like rain, obscuring your friends from view.

All you can feel is that overwhelmingly painful and smothering burn of the ink…but the last thing your senses pick up on before you pass out isn’t the burn on your skin, the bitterness in your mouth, or the voices of your friends.

It’s a voice.

“I…was wrong?! But that’s…impossible…”

A sad, anguished voice. The sad, anguished voice of Riddle Rosehearts.

“Isn’t it….Mother?”

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

hey there! you’re like the one of few blogs that still write for bigby! you’re single handedly keeping my obsession alive with him. do you have just any random head cannons about him that you can share!

I'm doing it just for you pookies >:) Ima give you some romance headcanons

If Telltale won't give me more Bigby, I will always deliver

Also FUCK i missed doing headcanons, please send in some ideas

🌙This man is fucking dedicated to you and only you. As much as he hates the jokes about being a loyal dog or even a lap dog, it's kind of true when you both get serious.

🌙He cuts down on his smoking as much as he can. Bigby often smokes to dull his supernatural senses just to avoid sensory overload. However, when you both got together, Bigby noticed something worked even better than Huff n' Puffs: Your scent. What's the point of smoking upwards of almost two packs a day when he can inhale that sweet sweet scent of yours?

🌙Bigby tries to make himself more presentable at first. He feels like he has to make a good impression despite you both knowing each other for centuries. He shaves more to keep his ever-growing stubble at bay, he keeps himself groomed and washed, he starts to use his cologne more, he even puts more effort into his laundry to get the ash and whiskey stains out of his shirts and pants.

🌙He is a sucker for kisses on his cheek. Whether you have to stand on your toes or bend down, you can find him faintly blushing and looking away sheepishly from the act of romance. If you kiss him on the cheek while he's smoking, the poor cigarette would burn up fast and Bigby would almost choke on the smoke.

🌙Bigby's love language is definitely acts of service. Bigby loves doing things for you, especially the little things that really drive it into him how much he craves a domestic life. Unfortunately, Bigby is sometimes too busy to be there for it to be quality time - but fuck if he doesn't absolutely love every minute he spends with you. He isn't good with words at times which has lead to very awkward moments and even funnier ones. Bigby never had an eye for gifts and has little experience with them, but he fucking loves whatever you get him even if it's a new tie.

🌙Bigby loves dates where it takes place in nature, especially at night when there are less people out and about. Walks through Central Park, night treks through botanical gardens, going down the boardwalks in Staten Island, resting on the cold sand of the beaches. There was one date you both went on at the beach at night where it was just the two of you along the balmly coast. You and Bigby were messing around near the waves when you both somehow ended up knee-deep in the waves. Bigby had you in his strong arms, holding you close as you both laughed and kissed before you playfully splashed water on him. It was safe to say you both ended up at his apartment soggy.

🌙If you ever wanna make this man blush heavily: Compliment him. And do not let up. Bigby likes the act annoyed at first, hiding his face by turning away and playfully scoffing only for him to break and flush at your sweet words. He loves it especially if you compliment him on the things that normally make people uneasy. His gaze, his strength, his wolf.

🌙Bigby, at first, was uneasy turning with you around. He was worried that you would be terrified of him, and that was something he couldn't handle at the time. Despite the fact that you knew what he was before and now after the Homelands and even seeing all of him, he still wasn't excited to show them at first.

🌙You're the only one who can say things that someone would say to their pet pooch, but only to a limit. Saying stuff like 'Good boy' however is a good way to rile him up, especially if you say it all sultry.

🌙When you hang around his office, he likes it when you put on a true crime podcast for Mundies. He had somehow crammed a couch into his office for you to lounge on as you both listened to how fucking crazy those Mundies could be, especially from the state of Florida. Some of the stories you both listened to were so outrageous, that Bigby stopped what he was doing and completely forgot about it because he couldn't believe what he heard as you cackled at his expression.

🌙Ever since you two started dating, Bigby finally started to use his bed again. His poor chair was left abandoned at night when you both would go to bed unless Colin passed out on it. There were times where you would pop in and see Bigby passed the fuck out on it still. He definitely sleeps like a victorian boy with the plague.

🌙Bigby loves going over to your apartment just to drown in your scent. He often doesn't want to leave your bed at times just so he can bury his head in your neck or in your pillow if you had gotten up. If he could, he would want to spend all day in the sheets just lying with you.

🌙Another one of your favorite dates to do if the weather is shitty out is snuggling up together on your couch and watch Mundy cop shows, especially the ones with bad acting and writing. You like to ask him what he would do in the cases shown and Bigby's usual answers have to do with punching the crook or sarcasm.

🌙If Bigby wolfmans out, he loves it when you stroke his fur and scratch at the raw skin beneath, especially around his neck. He can't really speak like this but he's sure to groan and growl in pleasure. He loves how your hands roam freely, without a trace of fear, around his hulking body. He loves it when you compare the size of your hand to his clawed one.

🌙When it's a full moon, Bigby gets a little weird. He's not forced to turn thanks to whatever spells the witches on the thirteenth floor put on him, but he does act differently. He needs to be around you, needs to have you in his sights and he needs to smell you or else he feels the beast inside of him go crazy. Don't be surprised if Bigby gets excited that night.

🌙He loves it when you look into his eyes when they're all wolfy and yellow. He can see the faint glow reflecting off of your eyes and it makes his chest feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

🌙If you're a fable that can change forms, you both often turn behind closed doors and drawn curtains for both fun and comfort. Sometimes keeping the beast pent up for too long can drive Bigby crazy and he knows it's the same for you. There have been times where you both would wrestle for fun.

🌙There have been times where Bigby would come home bloodied and bruised. He hates seeing you so worried for him and he hates it even more that you always clean and patch him up. You shouldn't have to do this, you shouldn't have to take care of him like this but you do. Bigby would sit on the toilet seat silently and watched as you worried over him. He hates making you worry.

🌙Bigby sometimes gets into these moods where he feels like you could do so much better than him. He doesn't even tell you at first when you gently ask him if he was alright, but he eventually breaks. He feels like you shouldn't be with a monster like him. You get shit for being with him and he hates that. His thoughts get shut down quickly by you pressing a firm kiss to his cheek and tell him how much you love him and how you'll always love him.

🌙Bigby loves it when you compliment his strength. He never thought about it before until he had to hoist up a truck to help Flycatcher with no problem. Just hearing you compliment his strength made him almost drop the truck on the poor frog prince below. Ever since then, Bigby likes to show off here and there just for you to coo and oogle over him.

🌙When you both sit together on the couch, he loves it when you either sit in his lap or have your legs stretch over his own with his hands stroking them. If you're in his chair, he loves it when you straddle him, pinning him back against his chair with the tv forgotten about behind you.

🌙Play with his hair. Play with his hair. Just do it, trust me. He will be putty in your hands if you play with his hair, especially as you're kissing. Scratch your nails gently against his scalp, twist his thick locks between your fingers, tug on it. You won't be sorry.

🌙Bigby loves it when you wear his clothing, especially his button-ups even if they don't close up. It started one fall when the temperature dipped below what was originally forecasted. Bigby saw you shiver once from a gust of wind and off came his coat. And that's when it started. He claims it's another scent thing, but just seeing you wearing his clothes really stirs something inside of him.

🌙When you two kiss, he loves it when your hands paw at his body. He loves it when they travel along his brawny limbs and dance across his broad chest and shoulders and crawling down his trim stomach. It drives him crazy as he snarls into the kiss. Oh, and if you sink your nails into his skin? Nip at his bottom lip? You're tipping him over the edge.

🌙He rests so much easier now with you by his side. He's never felt like this before with anyone, his little crush on Snow doesn't even come close to the love this man feels for you. The ring hidden away in his desk was proof of that.

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

CoD Headcanons: Back From a Mission Gone Wrong

A/N: Hello friends! So sorry for not posting in a while. Will try to post some hcs and fics more often!

Please check out my 200 follower giveaway if you want a chance to win a customized fic!!

Ghost:

He's so pissed

At first, he doesn't say a thing 

But finally he explodes

Yelling, getting up close

He won't back down until he's got it all out

And once he does, he just walks away to cool down

"You're fucking insane! You're a trained soldier, not some war hero in a movie!" 

"LT, it was just-"

His voice raised even higher until he was shouting. "No excuses! It was fucking reckless and you know it!"

"What, and you don't get to-"

"Shut the fuck up! This isn't a fucking game! I'm so sick of you trying to pull these stunts. You wanna be punished for insubordination? This is the third fucking time you haven't listened to me! And I'm so fucking sick of it!"

You felt your face growing hot. Everyone stared at the two of you as Ghost continued to yell at you. It felt so unfair. You were just doing what you thought was right. But now he was acting like you have never done a single thing right. With a thick swallow, you lowered your head. You couldn't say a thing. He eventually stopped. And once he did, he walked away, leaving you to face the stares of everyone else.

Soap:

Absolutely in shambles

He was so scared that you were gonna die 

He's dealt with this before, but not in a way like this

Soap has never been so terrified

So as soon as he sees you, he clings onto you

Soap's arms were wrapped securely around you. Normally, you wouldn't mind the affection. But now that your arm was in a sling and you were trying to eat lunch, this was more of a nuisance. You groaned, trying to shake off your clingy boyfriend. He didn't budge. It's been only one day since you came back, but he's acting like you'd disappear in a puff of smoke.

"Soap, I need to eat."

He shook his head. "Five more minutes."

"Are you not embarrassed? We're literally in the cafeteria and everyone is staring." You tried pushing him off once again. No luck. 

"I don't care. I almost lost you, so I'm never letting you go again."

Gaz:

He tries to make it seem like he was calm

He knows your strengths and how you manage to pull through

But Gaz can't help but let out a sigh of relief when he sees you in the infirmary

Gaz would sit down next to you and flash you a smile

Crack a joke about how you're immortal

"Well, well, well. You made it back. How unlucky." Gaz sat next to you on the cot. 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Wow. I love your concern for me."

"I can't be concerned." He reached out, grabbing your hand. "I know you'll always come back to me."

"Of course I will."

Price:

A mix of anger and concern

The type to be super silent 

That's when you know you've fucked up

Lecture in his office

Will hug you after

The office was silent except for the ticking of his clock. You watched as Price sat back in his seat, smoking a cigar. Your uninjured hand tapped nervously against your thigh. He had just spent the past twenty minutes lecturing you on being more careful and vigilant on missions. But now was the scary part. The silence.

"Captain, I'm really sorry." You finally managed to speak. "I thought I was in the clear. They just came out of nowhere, and I-"

Your words were interrupted as he suddenly got up from his desk. He stalked over to you and leaned down. He hugged you tightly. Cigar smoke curled around the both of you like a second embrace. Your body relaxed.

"Captain…"

"Don't ever do that again."

"Yes, sir."

Alejandro:

He's there when you arrive on base

Immediately looks you over to make sure you're okay

Will mutter under his breath at how reckless you are

But praises you for getting out of there alive

Alejandro was staring at you with his arms crossed as you limped off the aircraft. You could already see the gears turning in his mind, deciding if he should scold you or immediately send you to the infirmary. When you finally stood in front of him, he lifted your chin with his fingers.

"Look at you. How reckless." He mumbled under his breath. His eyes traveled over your face.

"Sorry."

"I know. But you did good, getting out of there alive. I'm proud of you."

König:

The type of anxious guy that has to be doing something

He knows your hurt when you come back, but he isn't there to see you

Instead, he's in the gym, working out

You actually have to find him 

When he sees you, he just kinda breaks down a bit

König wasn't waiting for you when you got back from the mission. You wanted nothing more than to collapse in his arms and complain about how everything went wrong. And yet, he was nowhere to be found. You searched practically the whole base before finding him in the gym, lifting weights.

"I'm back." You said, walking closer to him.

His back was facing you. "I know."

"Can you look at me?"

He turned around. You could just see his shoulders deflate as he looked at your injured body. You sighed and walked up to him. He buried you in a tight hug, his cheek resting on your head. He squeezed you as tightly as possibly. You felt almost bad for messing up on the mission and worrying him.

Keegan:

Calls you idiotic, but brave

Has a bright smile on his face

Can't believe you got out of there alive

Tells you to not do that shit again

Keegan's hands slowly ran down your arms as he looked over you. His eyes were shining with pride. You had just come stumbling out of the Humvee, dizzy and disoriented. After throwing off your helmet, you stare up at Keegan.

"I didn't die!"

"No, you didn't. You're so stupid."

"But brave, right?"

"Right."

Graves:

Will make fun of you

Never thought you would fuck up a mission that badly

Will be incredibly annoying about it

Doesn't even offer to help you?!

Bitch

Graves couldn't stop laughing. He was doubled over, his hand clutching his stomach. You stood in front of him, battered and bruised. A glare was on your face as you waited for him to finish. Of course he wasn't concerned. He was an asshole, why would he be?

"I can't believe you fucked up so badly!"

"Graves…"

"You crashed into a ditch!"

"Graves, I am bleeding profusely! Shut up and help me!"

[1d1195]

Honey VII

Read Honey here | ~6.2k words

From me: I just want Harry to be jealous literally all the time. I'm sorry that's so toxic. I know Cece has aged like two months in a very short frame. But we're gonna slow time down a little. Only a few days are passing (if any) right now.

Warnings: angst - some more Miss Honey trauma, pining (both parties), fluff and some MORE angst

Summary: “Say bye, bye Daddy,” she whispered to her and kissed the top of her head. “Say bye, bye,” she repeated. Cece just giggled making her heart fill to the brim with love.

“Bye Miss Honey,” he hummed and hung up. “Well, Cece,” she turned the little one toward her and held her out in front of her before bringing her close. “I don’t know about you, but I think Daddy needs a pick-me-up."

It was incredibly awkward for the next three days.

The weather was still crummy. The power continued to go out at random intervals. Harry had been working nonstop, coming home to see his baby before she went to bed but then getting right back to work in his home office. His goal was to make it so that when he took his leave, he wouldn’t have to do anything extra outside of the days he was going to go in. He decided he would have to go to work two days a week. Which days were best was still something he was figuring out.

Regardless, Miss Honey was leaving for the first two weeks of his leave, in which he would have uninterrupted Cece time. While that was grand, he was already dreading the days without her around as well.

He hoped the days he was home with her and Miss Cece were the days he was going to make her fall in love. Make him trust her. Make her believe that he loved her for her and not what she did.

How the fuck was he going to do that?

The awkwardness was most palpable when he got home from work. Mostly because she didn’t change a single thing about her routine. Dinner smelled delicious. The house was always clean, his laundry was folded. He found Cece and her giggling on the floor as they played with her toys.

All he wanted to do was kiss her and thank her for doing those things and being herself.

Then he wanted to strip her in the middle of the kitchen and enjoy her body like it was a meal she prepared especially for him.

But instead, he gave her space. He didn’t beg her to sit around and watch TV with him. She went to the basement and ran on the treadmill. When the pipes whined from her shower, Harry wondered if it was normal for him to be jealous of a shampoo bottle that got to see her naked form. Instead, he thanked her for dinner and asked how her day was. He tried not to think about how pretty she looked coming on his couch and how her smile made him feel like he had won a trophy.

They didn’t talk about their night together.

Even though it was just about the only thing he thought about when he was alone and not actively worrying about Cece. It was definitely the only thing he had been dreaming about.

Hopefully, when he took his leave, and she returned from her trip he could convince her that this wasn’t some one-off. This was something he was very serious about.

*

Having sex with Harry was simultaneously the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced and also the dumbest thing she had ever done.

Whoever settled down with him was a lucky lady. She already envied the blissful feeling that woman would experience probably on the daily. It made his heart skip a beat. She was an idiot, fucking her boss. Who did that?

When she woke up holding the little baby that she loved wrapped in the arms of a man who made her feel... good and cared for... All the thoughts of her first nanny family came rushing back. It terrified her and made her spiral. This was almost worse in some ways. At least last time she wasn’t painfully aware of how attractive her boss was.

Harry was right, she didn’t talk to her best friend very often. But Eliza was a busy woman, and this was an idiotic thing to do. It seemed silly to bother her when she didn’t even know what she was doing. But she texted her anyway. It was probably a phone call worthy conversation, but she wasn’t sure she could have it without giving up part way through.

I slept with Harry🤦‍♀️

OBSESSED WITH JUMPING RIGHT TO THE GOOD PART.

NICE 😍

Eliza. Seriously.

Was it good?

Oh who am I kidding, I’ve seen pics of him of course it was good. Wow I’m getting tingly for you.

E L I Z A

I’m just want to make sure I understand. He’s hot as fuck, babe. Good for you.

No. Not good. That was stupid. I just complicated my career.

Did you force him?

No of course not!

So what are you worried about? You OBVIOUSLY like him

...Tell me it’s not obvious please.

I mean... It’s obvious to me. But that’s only because he’s so goddamn hot

You are supposed to be helping me!

I AM helping you

Do you think he didn’t like it or something?

Oh, sweet Jesus. She hadn’t even thought of that. I think I have to end it.

What your job?

No my life 😭

Oh, for the love of God 🙄 You’re a grown woman and you slept with your boss. So has almost a third of the country has too.

Not helping.

Her phone rang with a FaceTime call. Eliza looked like she was at her house. Hopefully alone. She didn’t need her husband knowing all the details of her epic fuck up. “What do you want out of this?” She asked. Eliza was her extraverted, bold, wonderful friend. She was the one that dragged her to parties and was the dad-friend to their group. They were a team, and it was nice to have her. She got right to the point. Hence her congratulatory text. She perched the phone on the floor, resting it against the bottom of the entertainment center while Cece rolled on the floor. “Oh hello,” Eliza cooed. “Cece, you are so precious,” her face looked on with adoration a faux frown pulling her lips down.

She smiled proudly, unable to keep it in. Like Cece was hers which only made things worse. It was like her first nanny family but worse. Maybe it was because her second family didn’t have little babies, just children. She had been with Cece for extremely formative months, helping the little baby discover the world. The last time she was around a baby for these formative months, she became too attached. What if something happened down the line where she and Harry were something and then weren’t? It wasn’t like last time.

Her whole life was wrapped up in Cece and it had been hardly any time at all.

“Eliza,” she whispered, her throat catching on her name as tears overwhelmed her. “I love Cece. So much.”

“So tell Harry,” she said softly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you on FaceTime, he adores you.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “What if...”

“It’s not like last time,” Eliza finished already knowing where her spiral was going. She swallowed and looked away from the screen locking eyes with the sweet baby who babbled nonsense and giggled about her feet. “Babe?” She asked. “It’s not like last time. You know that, right? Harry appreciates your opinion. He wants you there. He is kind and thankful to have you. He wants you there. But he wants to be there too.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“He would let you love her completely.”

“If her mom was alive,” she whispered.

“Then you wouldn’t have met him, okay? Don’t... don’t do that. This is different. This is something good that you deserve. You love Cece. You love Harry. And quite frankly? You were going to love whatever baby was lucky enough to have you in their life so it may as well be Harry. I get why you got so worked up over Tucker,” she said. She flinched hearing his name. Her sweet little friend. “This is different. You’re lucky, of course. Harry adores you. You could have this. It wouldn’t be selfish. He’s nothing like Cody thank fuck.”

She smirked and watched Cece she rolled onto her tummy and then pushed herself towards her. “Cece!” She shrieked.

“What?!” Eliza asked, alarm falling over her face.

“She crawled!” She gasped. “Oh, my goodness, Eliza, I have to call Harry, I’m sorry!”

She didn’t even say goodbye before she hung up and called Harry. She never called him so she should have realized he probably would have answered immediately—worry etched on his perfect features. “Hi, love is every—”

“C’mere Cece! Show Daddy what you just did!” She cooed and held the phone out at Cece’s eye level turning so it was in a selfie position pointed at her. Cece scooted toward her (and Harry) again and her hand went to her throat.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Harry praised. “Look at you, baby,” his voice was so soft and happy. “No solid food, but you’re going t’crawl, hmm? Jus’ determined t’make me sad with y’growing up,” his voice was a little forlorn. But he was happy and proud. She was glad she couldn’t see him, she would probably cry. She wiped the corner of her eye, as it was. Cece giggled rolling onto her back as she got close to the phone.  Harry chuckled. “Thank you, love. That was really nice t’see,” she turned the phone back to her. When she answered she didn’t see Harry’s face. He was in his office, the sunlight hitting his face and hair so perfectly. His dimple and smile made her melt. The adoration was plain on his face. “M’not having a very good day,” he admitted. “I was nervous t’see y’calling. But that was... that was really nice.”

She grinned shyly. “Of course. I wanted you to see it.”

“Thank you,” he repeated. “I think m’going t’be late,” his beautiful smile turned into an exhausted, frustrated frown. “Y’don’t have t’leave any food out or anything,” he said. “I’ll order something here later,” he assured her.

But she knew he would forget. Because she texted Niall to make sure he ate lunch or dinner or whatever you called the half-assed meal he sometimes ate between lunch and dinner time. Most days Niall said he didn’t. “If you’re sure,” she said quietly. “I don’t mind.”

“I know, kitten,” he had been using kitten now that he had made her come three times in one night. It made her heart flutter. Made her feel flushed and happy. “Thank you,” he hummed. “If...if you go t’bed before I get home, I hope y’have a nice night and sleep well.” Her heart felt achy knowing he was having a bad day. “Can y’show me Cece again? I want t’say goodnight t’her,” he smiled, unaffected by his bad day with the thought of his sweet girl. She scooped up the little babe into her arms who was crawling into her lap at that point without her even noticing in because she was so focused on Harry’s worry.

“Good night, my love,” he smiled. “I love you so, so much. Be good for Miss Honey,” he winked and waved at her.

“Say bye, bye Daddy,” she whispered to her and kissed the top of her head. “Say bye, bye,” she repeated. Cece just giggled making her heart fill to the brim with love.

“Bye Miss Honey,” he hummed and hung up.

“Well, Cece,” she turned the little one toward her and held her out in front of her before bringing her close. “I don’t know about you, but I think Daddy needs a pick-me-up,” she stood from the floor and headed for Cece’s room to get her belongings and change her before she attempted to make Harry’s day better.

*

Niall invited himself into Harry’s office while he was eating lunch. His sticky note with his name and a heart in her handwriting was pressed on the collar of his shirt like a badge of honor. “Hey,” he smiled. Harry’s eyes narrowed at the thoughtfulness of her sending lunch to Niall. He hated that they chatted. Hated that she laughed at his text messages.

Because Harry was jealous. Extremely, completely jealous and felt it was unfair she could talk so breezily with Niall and walked on eggshells around him. “She doesn’t like me,” Harry grumbled and continued looking through the documents on his desk and all the meetings and schedules.

“I doubt that’s true.”

“Oh?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “You and your new best friend talk ‘bout me?” Curiosity was in his voice but so was his unwavering envy.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” Niall grinned. “Are you jealous of her or me?” He asked. Harry kept his eyes on his work again. “Don’t worry Harry, I’ll always be your best friend.”

“If you caught on fire, I wouldn’t help,” he grumbled.

Niall put a hand over his heart. “So sweet,” he smiled. “Why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

Harry sighed and ran a hand over his face and glanced at his open door behind him. Niall shut it with a kick of his foot and then sat in the chair across from Harry. Then Harry began pacing. Running a hand through his hair as he explained all the sweet things she did and the power outage (he mentioned but glossed over the things he did to her body). Niall didn’t even flinch. Unsurprised and simply kept eating his meal. When Harry finished rambling, he smiled, delight in his eyes. Then his expression softened at his friend. Because the teasing, while hilarious, wasn’t so funny at the moment. Harry didn’t just like her. He didn’t just enjoy her personality or even her body.

“You love her.”

Harry dropped to his own chair and laid his head on his desk ignoring what Niall said. He couldn’t love her already. Right? But maybe Niall, with an outside view, knew more than he did. “Niall, she’s gorgeous, funny, sweet, and she’s probably the smartest person I know,” he swallowed. “How can she think I only like her for the stuff she does?” he asked.

“Maybe because that’s all anyone has loved her for in her mind?” Harry frowned knowing that he was probably right about that too. She said just as much. “Do you love her for only the stuff she does?”

“Of course not!” Harry grumbled. He frowned and ignored the fact that Niall said love again. “S’kind she cares so much. She doesn’t want t’be noticed; s’not t’say she’s helpful. She just is. But it’s the only thing I notice. Maybe people only loved her in the past because of the things she did but I love why she does it,” he didn’t even pause to think about the L-word. “She jus’ genuinely loves the people in her life. S’probably her love language or something,” he shrugged.

Harry and Niall talked about a lot of stuff together. They discussed their business, golfing techniques, music, new restaurants, girls, and sex. They gushed about their families and even video games.

Talking about how he felt about someone so lovely was new to Harry. He had been in love before—or so he thought. This was different. She was different. Niall could see it. It wasn’t anything in particular. It was just her.

Harry swallowed. “She probably thinks she’s convenient,” he murmured.

“I mean...” Niall shrugged. “She is, isn’t she?”

Harry scowled. “Whose side are y’on? You’re supposed t’be my friend.”

Niall shrugged with a smirk. “I am. It’s just... you’re thinking about how you feel. Not the way she feels.”

“She’s not convenient,” he repeated.

“Harry, she is your nanny, and she does... everything,”

Harry frowned. “Did she say something t’you?” Harry was going to unceremoniously gouge a paperclip in his eye if he made her feel less than.

“I had no idea you had sex with her, if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t wait to Lord that over her for another three months’ worth of lunches.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know I’m stuck with you. Why is she friends with you?”

“Oh, we just bond about how much we love you, Harry,” he winked.

Harry’s phone beeped with his secretary at the other end before he could respond to his friend. “Mr. Styles, are you in a meeting?” He asked.

Harry liked Stephen well enough. He was well aware of the procedure for his daughter and Miss Honey. He was organized, punctual, and good at his job. He liked to golf like Niall and enjoyed chatting with Harry about music. He fit in well and it seemed like a great addition to his office. Especially after it took several weeks of temp people to find the right fit after he fired the incompetent woman he had before.

“No, Stephen. Jus’ talking with Niall. S’matter?” Harry gathered the papers he was reading in his hands prepared to pause his conversation with Niall, regardless, so he could get home at a semi-reasonable hour. Which was already going to be hours later than he wanted.

“Please don’t fire me, Mr. Styles, but your nanny is really gorgeous. And she’s here, asking to see you,” Stephen had a smile in his voice.

“Oh man, poor kid is toast,” Niall chuckled as Harry wrinkled the papers in his hand.

“She said your door was closed and didn’t want to disturb you, so she let me know. She’s in the break room with your daughter... is she single? Holy shit, I swear I’m blushing.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Harry growled. “Can’t have a woman because she’s jealous of her, can’t have a man because he’s obsessed with her,” he rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath before he did something insane like smashed the button on the phone to answer Stephen. “Please refrain from drooling over her, Stephen,” Harry’s voice was clipped. Niall snickered. He put the lid on his Tupperware and left it on Harry’s desk for him to take home so that it could be refilled with her next yummy creation. He watched the agony on Harry’s face as he listened to Stephen talk about the girl he adored so much.

“I’m trying not to, but holy shit,” Harry knew all the inappropriate thoughts he was thinking because he thought them himself. “Watching her with the baby?” he sighed dreamily. “I think I’m ready to start a family.”

Harry yanked the phone cord out of his phone so hard, he was lucky plaster didn’t come with it. He shoved his chair back with so much force as he stood it tipped over and without caring he strode out of his office. All while Niall cackled behind him. “You.” He pointed at Stephen angrily as he approached the main desk on the floor. “Don’t even fucking look at her,” he strode past to the breakroom. Stephen stared at him wide-eyed and confused while Niall laughed behind him.

“So she is taken?” Stephen asked.

Harry turned to glare at him, but Niall leaned down on his desk. He mumbled something, quietly to Stephen, his eyes nearly laughing as hard as he did in the other room. Niall waved him off toward the breakroom again and Harry turned toward it but bumped into someone as he spun back around sharply.

“Oh!” She wasn’t prepared for Harry to be so solid (even if she knew he was) or for him to be right there as she approached him hearing Niall’s loud laughter before she saw either of them. Nor was she prepared for him to be mid-stride with the momentum of him turning and walking sent her already unbalanced body while holding Cece knocked her entirely off kilter. Which landed her right back onto the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry grabbed his crying daughter immediately even though she was perfectly fine, Harry watched her clutch Cece tighter to her chest as she fell, even though it meant she landed so hard on her butt and back it had to have killed. “Niall!” He snapped.

Niall didn’t have to run far but he did all the same. “Hey, darling what an entrance,” he reached for her but Harry passed him Cece immediately before his hands met hers. Niall didn’t pay any mind to the change in which of Harry’s girls he held but he smirked thinking about how Miss Honey was one of his girls anyway. “Oh, I know, Miss Cecelia,” he cooed and kissed her temple. “That was a big fall, hmm?”

“Are y’okay?” Harry asked, crouching and grabbing her hands to help her sit up. “M’so sorry, love,” he cupped the side of her face. “Are y—”

“Is she okay?” She asked brushing Harry’s hand away gently. Her eyes were watery. Maybe it was the impact of falling or the embarrassment—Harry wasn’t sure. But if she was in pain, she didn’t seem to care. Her gaze was trained on Cece, alarm all over it.

“She’s fine, love,” Harry promised, ignoring Cece’s dramatics for the moment while he looked at her. “Are y’sure you’re okay?” He repeated.

“I’m fine, just embarrassed,” she put a hand on her face and winced as she stood and turned to Niall. “Are you okay, pretty girl?” She cooed. “Did I hurt you?” She frowned.

“No, not even a little,” Harry put a hand on her lower back. “Y’hit the ground hard, love. Are y’sure you’re okay?” He repeated.

“Harry, I swear I’m fine.”

Cece reached for her tearily, trying to wiggle her way out of Niall’s grip. “Aw,” he clucked. “You just want to make sure Miss Honey’s okay, little Miss?” He asked with a wink in her direction. As soon as her arms were around his daughter, Cece nuzzled into her embrace against the front of her shoulder; her little hands gripped either side of her shirt right around her chest. It was adorable and Harry was very jealous of the attention his daughter could give her like that.

“Are you alright?” Stephen approached.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harry’s voice was quiet as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m fine,” she kissed the top of Cece’s head and rocked her gently. “Just pretty embarrassed. Any chance you can erase that from your security cams?”

Stephen chuckled at her. “No one gave me a straight answer, I’m sorry to be so blunt—I know it’s poor timing since you just had a little tumble there...but I have to know. Are you single? I would love to take you on a date. You are so beautiful and—”

“Alright, Stephen,” Niall gripped his shoulders and steered him back toward his desk. “If you want to keep your job you’re never going to speak to her again,” he winked at the blushing girl over his shoulder. Harry was trying not to scream, fingers pressing to both his temples and covering his closed eyes. He was taking deep breaths to quell the angry jealousy that was boiling in his blood. How did this get so goddamn messy in such a short amount of time?

“Are you alright?” She asked.

He exhaled deeply, totally frustrated. “Am I alright? I asked y’that at least three times,” he grumbled.

“I told you I’m fine!”

He opened his eyes after rubbing his hand over his face. “What are y’doing here?”

She frowned. “Do you want us to leave?”

“God,” he wanted to slam his head into a wall. This day couldn’t be worse. “Can we get out of the fucking hallway?” He asked.

She nodded, her cheeks turning red again. The moment he entered the breakroom with an angry expression on his face, the few of his employees in the room made a swift exit. He pulled a seat out for her and watched as she winced as she sat. The table had a plethora of bags on it. A food bag, the diaper bag, the car seat, and her purse. “M’going t’ask if you’re okay, again,” he said quietly. “Please don’t lie t’me if y’feel uncomfortable.”

She smiled and nosed at the top of Cece’s hair where she was still snuggling. “I feel a little awkward telling you my butt is definitely going to be bruised.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. But at least she told the truth. “Are y’okay?”

“Other than a little embarrassed and a little bruised, I’ll be okay.”

“Good,” he sighed and ran a hand on the back of Cece’s head. “Hi baby girl,” he cooed, smiling for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Who’s that?” She asked. “Is that Daddy?” She giggled. “Do you want to give Daddy some of these snuggles? He’s having a bad day and needs one, I think,” she whispered and turned Cece toward him. She went willingly—excitedly, snuggling just as easily into his embrace. It felt like a warm glow settled over him. All the frustration he felt dissipated, and happiness started to bubble through him.

“That’s better,” he mumbled and kissed the top of her head. The only way it would be perfect was if he could hold her as well.

She smiled. “I brought you dinner,” she reached for one of the bags.

“Just Harry?” Niall asked from the doorway.

“Get. Out.” He growled.

Niall snickered closing the door behind him, which made her laugh as well. Harry rubbed his hand up and down her tiny little body while she set the food up—she even cut up Harry’s food into bite sized pieces so he could continue to snuggle his sweet daughter while he ate with one hand. She munched on whatever she purchased as well. “This is good,” he mumbled. “Where’s it from?”

“There’s a restaurant down the road. I stopped once after one of our visits,” she explained. “I would have made something myself, but I wanted to see you sooner rather than later.”

If he was questioning his love for her before, when Niall had asked earlier...

There was no question now.

He loved her with every breath. Every atom of his body.

He loved her.

So.

Very.

Much.

*

Day four and five post power outage came and went without much fanfare. Harry worked late. She brought Cece to the library and made sure she was entertained, learning, and growing. When Harry got home late, he said goodnight to an already sleeping Cece in her crib before he returned to the kitchen where the woman of his dreams was setting a plate of food out for him.

They didn’t speak much those two days, but he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t leave the kitchen while he ate. She packaged the food neatly for him and Niall the next day. She cleaned the dishes and counters. Hardly looking at Harry while he watched her. His eyes roamed over her body as she worked, desperate to see what was underneath her clothes again.

“Are you staring at me?”

“Mhmm,” he didn’t even bother hiding it. She had to know how much she meant to him.

“Harry,” she sighed, turning around and leaning against the counter. Her skin was flushed that pretty reddish pink tone that made him imagine the other three times he saw her skin change to the same color.

“Yes, love?” He smiled innocently. “Jus’ thinking ‘bout your bruise.”

Her skin turned a shade darker. “I bet.”

He took another bite of his food, smiling less than innocently. “Are y’okay?” He asked. That was serious.

“I actually don’t have a bruise. Or at least surface wise,” she explained. “The bone is still sore,” she admitted.

“I could rub it for you,” he offered. She turned back around without letting him see what shade of red she was turning. She braced her hands on the counter and tilted her head up to the ceiling.

He smirked.

But that was nothing compared to breakfast. Harry came directly to the kitchen in nothing but his towel making her put a hand on her throat. She put Cece in her highchair and turned to the fridge. Was she cooling herself off in there? Harry wished he could find out.

This had to qualify as sexual harassment in the workplace. It was her workplace after all.It wasn’t that Harry didn’t care if it was harassment, of course he wanted her to be comfortable. But she was comfortable. Wasn’t she? He didn’t imagine that chemistry between them. There was no way he imagined it!

Her tank top looked so pretty showing off so much of her soft cleavage that he just wanted to bury his face against her body. There was so much more than just her taking care of Cece or taking care of him. He wanted her to crumble. Only because he wanted her to crumble right into his arms. He would give her everything she wanted. Whenever she wanted it. They could make another baby right then. Right at the kitchen counter (or maybe after she put Cece down for a morning nap).

Harry stood and moved beside her next to the fridge. “Harry,” she whispered. “Please...”

“Please what, kitten?”

Her cheeks burned bright red and she looked away holding yogurt in her hands for Cece to try next.

“Do I make y’uncomfortable? Because I’ll stop,” he promised.

Ever so slightly, she shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “You’re just... making it really difficult not to flirt with you.”

Harry chuckled his mouth close to her earlobe. He inhaled along her hairline aching for her pretty smell. “Y’can flirt with me any time y’want, love,” he assured her. He pressed a hand on her arm, squeezing just above her elbow. It was the least erotic place but it made her heart skip a beat and the heat between her thighs spread throughout her body. Her eyes fluttered close, and Harry moved back to Cece leaving her cold and ridiculously turned on and he didn’t even do anything other than exist.

She was so. Goddamn. Screwed.

*

Harry’s stupid, insanely hot body was the only thing she could think about while the rain poured outside. More of the storms that lined their region wreaked havoc over the last couple of days. Which meant she was stuck inside with no escape from all that smelled like Harry, reminded her of Harry, and screamed of how much she wanted to kiss Harry until she died from breathlessness.

Sitting on the sofa where he made her come was a poor choice. She put her book over her face briefly before she sighed, unable to read any of the words that were in front of her because all of the letters on the page seemed to turn into the same five letters over and over. Just her brain screaming for the beautiful man that was kind, sweet, utterly adorable with his daughter.

And also, really good at making her come.

Cece had just fallen asleep in her swing for her afternoon nap. The soothing back and forth motion made it easy for her to drift along with the sound of the rain against the house. She had a book in her lap and was listening to the quiet instrumental playlist she had playing to keep Cece asleep. A cup of coffee was right beside her and other than her heart freaking out that she had slept with her boss and now it was really awkward, it was really peaceful.

For half an hour.

The power went out again. Fortunately, it was a little lighter out than it was during the storm where she let Harry pleasure her. Despite the swing turning off from lack of electricity, she noted Cece hadn’t stirred an inch. Frowning, she grabbed her phone to let Harry know.

There was no service. The storm must have knocked out the cell towers as well. Or maybe someone hit the pole outside Harry’s quiet neighborhood. Or maybe still, a repairman had knocked it out again trying to fix something to prevent further damage.

But when she peered out the drawn curtains, she immediately realized that the streetlight at the end of the driveway was still on. “Huh,” she hummed trying to piece it together.

Of course she wasn’t a mother. But having children around in her life and taking care of them for so many years, she felt she had developed some kind of mother’s intuition that someone else wouldn’t have if they didn’t have her job. She didn’t want to see it, but she swore she saw something move. Someone. Something like a shadow but worse, and it moved along the side of the house just out of sight.

No. No more crime dramas before bed. She thought to herself.

No one would come here to harm them—to harm Harry or Cece, right? They were just ordinary people.

Right?

More than ever, she was grateful for the soundly sleeping baby—she prayed the six-month regression she was going through wouldn’t make its appearance known. She hurried to the living room, scooping her out of her swing. She grabbed her favorite stuffy too. She took the stairs two at a time, careful to refrain from jostling Cece and waking her. She brought her to Harry’s bedroom. She refused to go in there after... She shook her head at that thought. That blissful, perfect thought. Harry was going to be home in no more than a couple hours, but it didn’t make this any easier.

“Okay Cece, you need to dream for a while,” she whispered. “I love you so, so much, okay?” She placed her in the middle of Harry’s closet floor, found a notebook on his nightstand. She tore a blank page from the back and scribbled a note on it hoping Harry would understand she was doing what she needed to do. She left the note in the closet as well. “Just sleep,” she whispered and kissed her soft little forehead.

Silently, she prayed for Chloe knowing she would be around. Quietly begging her to keep Cece safe while she dealt with the sound of a window smashing on the floor below.

She hurried downstairs with a pounding heart. Two men were climbing their way through the window. “What are you doing!?” She shrieked.

One held a gun up at her. Her hands went up instinctively. “Who are you?”

“I-I’m the nanny. What are you d-doing?” She repeated her heart in her throat interrupted her normal speech.

“Where’s the baby?” The other one snarled.

She shook her head. Terror pulling at her in every direction.

No, she’s just a baby. They can’t want her. “She’s not here,” she croaked praying her lie wasn’t obvious. She would throw herself in front of them, by all means, but she wasn’t dumb. They were a lot stronger than her. They couldn’t get past her. “She’s... she’s with her aunt,” she prayed that Harry wouldn’t hate her again. She would do anything to protect Cece. Harry already lost too much and if he lost his baby girl…

She shook her head at that thought, willing it out of existence. Harry’s worst fear was leaving Cece alone and she had just left her in a closet. Even if it were for the greater good of her safety it killed a piece of her to do that. Worry strung her mind wondering if there was another, better option. Leaving her alone without a bottle? What if she was there for hours? How long would she sit in her diaper? What if she cried so hard she dehydrated herself? God, how was anyone supposed to make this kind of decision?

“Jesus Christ, you said she was here!”

The man without the gun looked nervous. Clearly, he wasn’t the one in charge, but he had been right. She was there. Hiding in the dark. She prayed that she didn’t wake or make a peep. She just needed them to get out of the house.

They almost ignored her while they talked through a plan, the gun never straying from her vision. Slowly, she made way for her phone just out of reach. The man chose that moment to remind her that they hadn’t forgot about her. He walked closer to her making her throat close around a sob. “Let’s go,” he ordered darkly.

“Go?” She whimpered. She was going to be sick. “Go where?”

The one not in charge glanced at his own phone. “We have three minutes.”

“Walk,” he ordered and shoved her toward the door.

“Wait, please let’s just talk about this—”

“There’s no time to talk. You’ve seen too much. Either I shoot a bullet through your brain right now, or you get in the car.”

“You don’t need to do this!” She was glad the tears and sobs were quieting her voice. It was anything but fake. “I won’t tell anyone—”

“Save it,” he snapped and put the gun on the back of her head. She choked out another sob. “Can you take us to the baby?”

Her heart ached something fierce. Like someone had ripped it in half. “No, I don’t know where his sister lives,” at least that was true.

“Then you’re stuck with us,” he snarled. “You better be worth a pretty penny.” Kidnapping? Kidnapping her? She was good at her job. But not that good. Harry wouldn't take out a ransom for her. Would he? No... his daughter, of course. But not her. She was just the nanny. Someone he slept with out of convenience. Harry would be glad that Cece was okay. Even if she left her alone after she told him he never would. God, her heart hurt. “We only have another minute. Kill her or don’t. We have to go.”

A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes as they walked out of the house. “Okay, okay! I’ll go.” She sobbed. She hoped they didn’t notice they were tears of relief.

--

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[varpusvaras]

Jason always breathed better in the kitchen.

There had been a few rooms in the Manor that had been more or less his. His own room, the library, and the kitchen, at the top of the list. Everyone had quickly learned how much having his own room meant for him, and they had learned to knock and wait for his permission to come in, instead of just barging inside, with loud words and harsh hands. Even Dick respected the quietness of the library, and if Jason had been in there, reading, no one had dared to disturb him, at least most of the time.

Still, Jason's favorite place had been the kitchen.

Maybe because Bruce and Dick had been squarely banned from ever coming in, giving Jason a space to go to if he truly wanted to be left alone by them. Maybe because that was where Alfred was, and Alfred was always safe, with no reason or intention to lecture Jason or argue with him. Maybe because in the kitchen, with the cupboards and the fridge full, and a cup of tea always ready for him, no matter the time of day, Jason had felt like everything would be alright the most.

There was no Alfred in the Queen family kitchen, it was open for everyone in the house, and there was no tea.

Still, Jason felt a little better as he leaned against the counter and breathed.

He could still hear the others in the house, somewhere, and if Jason really concentrated, he could, for a moment, delude himself into thinking that if he just stayed in the kitchen, he would cease to exist for the rest of them for the time being.

Not that Jason...wanted them to forget him, but it was easier that way, just for a moment. In a moment, Jason would be able to come out of the kitchen, and the day would continue like normal, and Jason could again pretend that he belonged there.

Jason breathed in. Lian and Mia had baked snickerdoodles earlier, and the kitchen still smelled like warm sugar and cinnamon. Jason imagined that they would go great with tea. Everything went great with tea. There were teacups in a cabinet on one of the kitchen walls. They didn't have the same pattern as the ones Alfred always used. The ones in the Manor had a golden rim and a red ribbon around them, and Jason had always been terrified to touch them. The cups in the cabinet had teal flowers on them, and they looked like they hadn't been touched in a long time.

There wasn't an Alfred in this kitchen, after all.

God, Jason missed Alfred.

He missed the kitchen in the Manor, with Alfred in it, Alfred who would not lecture him or argue with him, Alfred who always had a cup of tea for him, no matter the time of the day.

If Jason could just magically appear in the kitchen and skip the rest of the Manor, he would go there in a blink of an eye.

But he could not.

So not kitchen with Alfred and tea in it for him.

Jason breathed. Warm sugar and cinnamon. Teacups with teal flowers. Voices somewhere in the house.

How much longer it would take, to him to not have this either?

They haven't kicked you out yet, a hopeful voice in his head told him. They haven't told Roy to not bring you with him, either. That has to mean something.

Bruce also offered Jason help, once, Jason reminded the voice. And that Jason had said no.

But you haven't said no yet, the voice pointed out. You haven't said no a single time Roy has asked you to come here with him.

No, Jason admitted. He hadn't.

But it didn't mean anything.

Sooner or later, they would realise that Jason was not one of them. That there was no place for him here.

Just like Jason had realised that he wasn't part of the family anymore.

They wouldn't, the hopeful voice said. Look, Roy is happy here, he can come here, despite-

No, Jason shut the voice down. Do not bring Roy into this. Roy was sick and hurting. Roy needed help. Nothing about it was Roy's fault. Don't you dare compare yourself to Roy ever again.

The voice understood what was good for it and stayed quiet.

Jason breathed. Warm sugard and cinnamon. Teacups with teal flowers. Voices somewhere in the house.

Jason, in the kitchen, desperate the follow the voices.

Jason breathed. Warm sugar and cinnamon. Teacups with teal flowers. Footsteps, coming towards the kitchen.

Jason snapped his head around, tearing his eyes of the cabinet with the teacups.

Oliver stepped into the kitchen.

"There you are", he said, like seeing Jason in the kitchen was something he had hoped for. "Dinah is taking pictures."

Jason could not decipher the way Oliver had said the latter words.

"Yeah?" He said. "Roy said so."

All the kids were in the house, and Dinah wanted to take pictures with them all in it, to update the photowall in the living room. Roy had jokingly complained about it when he had mentioned it to Jason earlier, in a way that made it clear that Roy didn't actually mind sitting down and posing for the camera with the others. That he actually liked it, having his picture taken with his family in said picture with him.

Roy had left to fetch Lian, in order to make sure that she would be presentable for said pictures, and that had been Jason's cue to leave. To find somewhere that would be just for him for the time being.

Of course, the kitchen here was not the same as the kitchen in the Manor. It was not a place just for Jason. Jason had known that.

Oliver raised his brow, and Jason felt, for a slip second, like he was fourteen again, standing in the Manor's kitchen instead of this one.

"Yeah?" Oliver said back to him. "Chop-chop, everybody's waiting. Lian wants to have more cookies, and Roy promised her those after dinner, and Dinah wants to take the pictures before that."

Jason blinked.

"Oh", he said, because his brain was suddenly empty, and he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Oliver looked at him for a few seconds longer. There was something softer in the way he looked at Jason, now, like Jason, standing in the kitchen by himself, was something to be given softness.

Then Oliver stepped closer, and threw an arm around Jason's shoulders, like it was the most normal thing of him to do, and he dragged Jason out of the kitchen.

Jason tried not to think too much about how good it felt.

Everybody was gathered in the music room, which Jason knew most of the pictures already on the wall were taken in. It wasn't used much for playing music anymore, and it had the best lighting during most of the day, as far as Jason had understood from the house tour he had gotten when he had visited the house for the first time. The couch, which usually sat against the wall nex to the window, had been dragged to the middle of the room.

Roy, Lian, Mia and Connor were already sitting down, with Dinah standing next to the camera, checking the settings on it. She paused when she heard Oliver and Jason coming in.

"And there's the rest of them", she said, giving Jason a quick smile. "Jason, sit next to Lian, so she's between you and Roy."

Lian grinned at that, and quickly scooted closer to Roy, and she patted the empty space next to her eagerly.

Jason nodded, a little numbly. Connor scooted closer to Mia as he made his way towards the couch, giving Jason more room to sit down, and he sat on the edge of the couch, resisting the urge to clench his fists.

Lian leaned lightly against him.

"Jayjay, come closer", she said, wrapping her hands around Jason's forearm and tugging. She had lately started calling him just Jay more often than Jayjay, like she had when she had been a bit younger, and Jason immediately relented. He shifted closer to her, situating himself a bit more properly onto the couch, instead of right on the edge of the seat.

There was weight again on his shoulders, where Oliver's arm had been the whole way from the kitchen to the music room. Roy had thrown his arm over Lian's head and onto Jason's shoulders, boxing him in with them.

It was grounding, the weight of Roy and Lian, both pressing against him, the presence of Connor and Mia just on the other side.

Jason breathed in.

He dared to look over at Dinah, who was still adjusting something on the camera.

"This would be much easier to do with a phone", Mia said.

"We can take more pictures with a phone later", Dinah said. "I want a good-quality one for the wall, especially since this is the first one with the whole family in it."

Jason blinked.

There was a lump of something, in his throat, and the breathed around it.

Roy tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and Jason turned to look at him.

Roy didn't say anything. He just looked at Jason, with a gentle smile on his face, the one he used every time he wanted to say that everything was alright without using any words.

Lian slid one of her hands into Jason's and wrapped her fingers around Jason's. She squeezed.

Jason squeezed back.

"Okay!" Dinah said. "Everybody look alive."

She and Oliver moved to the couch as well, with Dinah coming to stand next to Mia, while Oliver made his way behind the couch. Jason watched him pat Roy on the shoulder, and Roy hummed happily under his breath. It was a nice sound, and Jason savoured it.

Roy was looking at the camera, and Jason turned to look towards it as well. Roy squeezed his shoulders, and Jason felt him lean a little closer to him.

"Smile, Jaybird", Roy whispered, his own smile still evident in his voice.

Jason breathed. Roy's arm was a comfortable weight on his shoulders, Lian's hand the same in his hand, and in that moment, Jason could make himself truly believe that he belonged, right there.

Jason breathed, and smiled.

[aretheysorasorta]

Danny Fenton is Odd

————————————————————-

Danny Fenton was odd

It was a fact no one in Amity would dispute, then again the boy was raised by ghost hunter, he had Fenton blood in his veins, their wasn’t much of a chance for him to be anything but odd from the beginning

But Fenton odd wasn’t what they meant anyway

Danny was a straight A student, he was a Fenton though so that much was to be expected from a family of geniuses, yet for some reason Danny’s grades started to tank, he slept in class all the time and skipped classes when he never used to

It was sudden too, there was no slow decline or odd tiredness that a teacher could ask about, it was just…

One day the boy had perfect grades, the next he couldn’t seem to keep his grade above a C if he was lucky

Of course grades aren’t the only thing that was strange about Danny, there were a lot of things off with him

Like the fact that in the past when he’d always agree to help people study, like the jocks when they had an important game coming up or the goths when they needed to pass a subject to get their teachers off their back, he hadn’t done that in months

Danny used to hide people too, if someone didn’t want to go home? Danny’s house was both large enough and his parents weren’t aware enough to notices some more kids that weren’t their own in the house, only rule was not to go into the basement, as if any of the kids wanted to anyway

There were spare pillows, blankets and padding in the ops center, Danny lent some of those with worse off homes keys, a constant invitation, he hadn’t asked for them back but most had taken the hint and stopped using them

If you were having mechanical trouble? Was your phone acting up? Was your dad’s car totalled and you didn’t have enough money to pay for repairs and were too scared to tell your dad? Danny will have it fixed up before the end of the school day, hell it might even work better than before you gave it to him

Now, Danny didn’t do that, he was too tired to, it wasn’t normal tiredness either, it was like Danny had just given up, like he no longer saw a reason to keep trying

Danny had been on his way to the space program

Danny had wanted to be an astronaut

No one remembers the last time Danny brought up the stars

Danny was odd, in the way that his eye sometimes seemed to shine a toxic green, just for a second never longer, or the sudden fight or flight reflex he kicked into gear in most people, it was mostly fight, it was mostly from Dash

Danny was odd, he felt too large, like too much was condensed into one being and the universe was just now realising that this was a bad idea, but it be couldn’t stop anymore

Danny was odd, he felt too small, skinny stick arm and a lanky body, his family’s height seeming to just barely skip over him, Danny was small, like the world was terrified of anyone looking too close so they shrunk him down, but they didn’t realise that he was still overflowing with wrongness

Danny was odd, in the bruises student see him hiding and the Med-kit he always had on him, the clothes and supply’s stuffed in his locker, the way he looked around as though he was going to have to run any second now

Danny was odd, all of Amity park knew this

Danny was odd, in the way where his voice seemed to echo and a single glance your way could have you frozen stiff in fear

Danny. Was. Odd…

But that wasn’t anything new, Danny was always odd wasn’t he? Why look into something that doesn’t matter? Danny can take care of himself, he doesn’t want help so don’t give him any.

Danny was odd, in the way he’d avoid Dash like the plague, yet when he was caught the boy wouldn’t fight back, the boy wouldn’t even feel fear

Danny was odd, he only had two friends, he only had one sister

One sister? No, no, Danny has two, doesn’t he?

Danny was odd

Danny was Danny

Danny was odd, he knew the mayor, his godfather, yet he hated him, Danny would complain, call Vlad a fruitloop and insult him to the Zone and back

It was strange right? That Vlad was so obsessed with Danny?

It was odd, how uncomfortable Danny got whenever Vlad was around, or how often Vlad tried to find him

…….wasn’t that wrong? No, concerning, that was the word, Vlad was an adult, what did he need with Danny? Shouldn’t someone look into it? Shouldn’t someone help-

Don’t think too much, it’s fine, after all, Danny is odd isn’t he?

Right, no need to think too hard after all

Danny

Was

Odd

Danny was odd, his parent were ghost hunters but he was afraid of ghosts, the first to run after ever sighting, pathetic, but then again…..Danny never did look scared did he?

Don’t think too much, this is an odd place, and he an odd boy, doesn’t that go hand in hand?

Right, Danny is odd but no odder than Amity

Danny is odd, in the way he seems to not be there, he wasn’t easy to forget, no, that was impossible to do, but he wasn’t quite here either….was he?

Danny was odd, in the way he bleed green

Green? No, the boy bleed the galaxy, all stars and supernovas seemed to flash with every shift of his eyes, as though the universe had created them just for him, just for this

But people don’t bleed green or stars, they bleed red, they bleed blood

Danny was human…..wasn’t he?

Danny has never bleed anything other than red

Oh, that’s true

Danny was odd, in the way the world seem to tilt towards him, as though the entire world was here to be devoured by him

But Danny was odd, he wouldn’t do that, he loved this world too much

Danny was a black hole, sucking everything into his orbit, into himself

Danny was a Super Nova, a colosale explosion that could burst at any moment and wipe them out

Danny was a star, without him this world wouldn’t exist, they relied on him, his warmth, his protection

But Danny was human, so he couldn’t be a star…can he?

No, he can’t

Then why does it feel like this?

Danny is odd, but so is Amity

Danny is Amity’s, no one got to take him

Danny is odd, in the way he hadn’t shown up for days, in the way that teachers had sent hundreds of message’s home yet no one responded

Danny was odd, in the way a body hasn’t been found yet their already declaring him dead

Danny was odd, in the way someone saw the government hauling Jazz off somewhere

Danny was odd, in the way that had their skin crawling like bugs had crawled into they skin while they slept

Danny was odd, and his sister was missing, his friends had vanished, presumed dead the GIW had said

Danny was odd, in the way his parents only seemed worried about Jazz

Danny was dead……but he always was…….wasn’t he?

[denaliwrites]

Don't Blink

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Summary: Going home was meant to be a vacation from all the aliens and monsters.

Part 2: Don't Turn Your Back Part 3: Don't Look Away Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

Warnings: Weeping Angels, babes.

You hadn't slept in days.

It started innocuous enough -- some nerves as you crawled into your bed, for once. You'd assumed it was because you were so used to the TARDIS that home didn't feel as much like home anymore. You thought that maybe, after a day or two, it'd get better.

It got worse.

Waking up the next morning, you were confronted with the feeling of being watched. No matter where you went -- your mum's, the shops, the cellar, even the restroom. Everywhere. All day. By the time you dropped into your bed that night, you were exhausted from being on high alert the whole day.

You didn't sleep well that night.

Nightmares plagued you -- they were nebulous, slipping just out of focus every time you thought you could make out even just a single detail. But despite that -- or maybe because of it -- you were terrified.

You awoke drenched in a cold sweat, covered in goosebumps and with a stomach churning with unease. You felt feverish, but when you took your temperature the thermometer flashed with a perfectly normal number.

Going about your day felt like a monumental task. While your limbs felt weighed down with lead, the rest of you felt light, jittery... panicky. Any attempts to focus for more than thirty seconds at a time failed miserably.

Maybe it was just your heightened state, but you could've sworn that everyone could see that you were starting to lose it.

That was the first night you didn't sleep.

The second night, you finally caught sight of the predator in the underbrush -- the thing that had been stalking you since you arrived back home. Only for a brief, blink-and-you-miss-it moment, but it was still long enough for you to know that it was the cause of your sleepless nights and worsening mental state.

You weren't sure how a perfectly ordinary angel statue could cause so much distress.

The third night, you noticed the statue had moved -- just a couple inches -- but it was enough for you to see the difference. Finally, you called the Doctor. Not five minutes later, you heard the TARDIS materialize outside.

You turned away for all of one second, but when you looked back, the angel had gone.

Well, "gone" was relative. It was out of line of sight, you could say that much for sure. But you knew it was still lurking nearby -- you could still feel it watching you.

The Doctor didn't bother announcing himself as he barged into your flat -- the TARDIS brakes were announcement enough. The sonic screwdriver was held aloft, its light moving in erratic circles in the darkened flat as the Doctor gradually made his way to you.

"Where is it?" he asked once he finally reached you. "Did you blink -- did it move!?"

You weren't sure how to answer. He had told you not to take your eyes off it, you recalled that now that he was here, yelling at you about it -- but you didn't even remember looking away just moments ago you were so exhausted.

In the back of your mind some little part of the normal you knew that the Doctor was just worried, but that little piece was dwindling with every moment you continued to lose sleep.

You'd moved right past delirium at this point -- and, hell, you weren't even sure how much of this was real. What if you were hallucinating? Angel statues that could only move if they weren't being looked at? That was a little crazy, even for the Doctor.

He turned to look at you when you remained silent, and when his eyes met yours they melted into pure, unadulterated concern and some dam inside you broke.

Sobs wracked your body and you collapsed. The only reason you didn't hit the ground was the Doctor surging forward, arms wrapping around you and holding you steady.

"Oh, dear," he cooed, holding you close. You buried your head into his chest, your cries still rocking through you, though the Doctor's arms kept you pretty snugly in place, and his clothes did an excellent job of muffling your blubbering.

You could feel one of his hands running comfortingly through your hair, while the other rubbed soothing circles into your back.

Miraculously, you calmed. For the first time in days, you felt like you could relax. Breathe. Hell, maybe even sleep.

It was with that thought that you felt yourself being effortlessly lifted. The Doctor carried you, bridal style, back to the TARDIS, through the doors and the console room and the halls, until he reached your bedroom and settled you carefully onto the bed.

"What about the angel?"

"You're completely safe in the TARDIS. I promise."

You knew that he knew that you had meant something different, but you were too tired to argue. Now that you were safe, sleep was coming to claim you rather quickly.

Once you fell asleep, you were haunted by nightmares again, but you were just so glad to be getting any sleep at all that you didn't care.

You found the Doctor in the console room the next morning, looking over something on one of the monitors. Without even so much as sparing you a glance, he dived right into it.

"That's no ordinary Weeping Angel."

"What do you mean?" you asked with a yawn and a bleary blink in his direction.

"See, normally a Weeping Angel wouldn't waste any time -- you blink, you're dead. Well. Teleported to another time so that they can feed off the energy that the displacement causes. But this... this is..."

"It's torturing me."

It wasn't a question -- how could it have been? You and the Doctor both could see what it was doing to you.

"Yes," he confirmed sadly.

"Reminds me of something," you said with a shrug.

"Oh?"

"Oh, do I get to be the brainiac for once?" you teased with a smirk, leaning back against the console beside him.

"I guess we'll find out," he teased back, mirroring your expression and bumping your shoulder lightly with his own.

You blushed, suddenly self-conscious, but you forged ahead anyway. "So, usually when a predator becomes a maneater it's because it's sick or injured and almost always starving, and humans are really easy prey compared to deer and antelope and stuff."

He was watching you with such rapt, adoring attention. You could barely stand it.

"But," you continued, "sometimes there are outliers. Predators that kill humans for unknown reasons, reasons that don't align with what we know about typical maneaters. The maneaters of Tsavo -- they were these two perfectly healthy, normal lions by all appearances, that killed anywhere from -- realistically speaking -- twenty-eight to thirty-two people, but reportedly they killed over a hundred. And no one really knows why they did it. There are theories, of course, but because they were healthy, and it happened over a century ago, there's no way to really confirm one way or another why they killed all those people."

You paused, thinking.

"Well, no way for the average person."

The Doctor beamed at you. "Oh, you are clever, aren't you?"

"I try."

"So you think maybe this Angel is an outlier?"

"Yeah, it's possible."

"No indicators of illness or injury, no signs of weakness or starvation. Just..."

"Sadistic tendencies?"

"But why?" he asked no one in particular, leaning back to stare at the monitor again.

"And..." you started thoughtfully. The Doctor turned to look at you again. "Why me?"

"Why you?" he repeated cluelessly.

"I wasn't here when it arrived, and it couldn't have known I was gonna be coming back anytime soon. It's possible it's been waiting for days, weeks for me to come back -- and it could've been waiting even longer if I hadn't decided I needed a break. That's a lot of waiting for a random person you don't know is coming back."

Realization dawned on the Doctor's face. "It's targeted."

"But why?"

"Why indeed?" he asked in that tone that was meant to sound casual but only served to let you know that he was deeply worried. "Let's find out, shall we?"

[toournextadventure]

a novel life pt.3

Summary: You admit a few things to Sam, and finally she starts to feel a little more normal. Almost as if Ghostface was truly a thing of the past. Almost.

Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: mentions of Scream-typical violence, mentions of trauma, light swearing Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x GN!Reader (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5)

Oh you had messed up. You had messed up so badly. Why hadn’t you told Sam about Ghostface all those weeks ago? It was certainly far too late to tell her now, it had happened last year. Okay, slight exaggeration, you had simply passed into the New Year last week but still!

And now it was too late. You didn’t know why, it just was.

“Can you hand me that pen?” Sam asked.

You hummed and handed her what was on the table, still staring off into the distance. The television was on in your apartment and you couldn’t have told a single soul what was on. Perhaps it was the news. It was usually the news, you liked to keep up to date with everything.  If you had time, you would even split the screen between all news stations so you could compare all sides of information.

It was a miracle you had managed to keep Sam as long as you had.

“I think I’ll fuck J on the coffee table in an hour, is that okay?”

“Yes darling, whatever you want,” you said as your mind continued to race through possibilities.

You straightened up and quickly turned to look at her.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, her words finally forcing its way through the plethora of thoughts to the forefront of your mind. “No, it’s absolutely not okay.”

Sam smiled and placed the remote on the table. Which you supposed you had handed her instead of a pen. Because of course you had, why would you hand her the pen she had so clearly asked for? She placed a warm hand on your jaw and you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“What’s going on in your head?” She asked far softer than she had any right to. “You’re usually not this distracted.”

You didn’t want to tell her. It felt like a betrayal of her trust that you hadn’t told her right after it had happened, how could you come back from it now? What excuse did you have other than you were afraid? Being afraid certainly wasn’t going to win you any favours, not with the Ghostface Murder family.

A mental note popped up to never, never call them that to their faces.

You should tell her.

No you shouldn’t.

Yes you should.

No.

Fine.

“I saw Ghostface the night I was buying your stockings,” you said rather unceremoniously.

Sam looked at you like you had grown a second head. Oh lord, had you grown a second head? Oh you bet you had, you absolute fool. Your mother had told you time and time again, there were consequences to lying. And now that you had finally come clean, you were facing the consequences. You hoped Sam still liked you with a second head.

“You saw Ghostface?” She asked in a whisper.

“I know I should have told you,” you said quickly, “but to tell you the truth, I was too afraid to tell anyone so instead I simply kept my mouth shut.”

Sam still said nothing. She almost looked afraid, which you could understand. You yourself were rather afraid as well. There had been no news of Ghostface running around New York again, but you knew for a fact he was out and about. And judging by the look on Sam’s face, she knew it was the truth as well.

Oh, this was precisely why you had kept it from her! You hadn’t intended to terrify her, oh no, quite the contrary. You wanted nothing more than for her to not fear the masked delinquent that habited wherever she existed. It was rather unfair when you started to think about it. No surprise at all that Tara was untrustful of… well, everyone.

“Promise me you won’t try to find him again,” Sam finally said, her voice far more vulnerable than it had any right to be.

“My dear,” you said, doing your best to emulate her tone. You reached out to hold her hand in a tight grasp. “I would rather defend my thesis a second time than try to find that… hoodlum again.”

Her laugh, though nervous, was beautiful. There was nothing quite like the sound of Sam’s laughter. Even when unsettled, there was a heartiness to it that called to your soul. It touched the deepest parts of you, coaxing them out of their hiding spots until you were laid bare before her, eagerly awaiting her next move.

“I don’t think anyone has ever called Ghostface a “hoodlum” before,” she said before squeezing your hand.

“Well they should,” you said, all joking put aside. “Or perhaps even a coward,” you continued. “Only a coward prevents their victim from seeing the face of their attacker.”

Sam leaned against your arm as she grabbed her textbook again. “You’re talking pretty big for someone who was supposedly terrified of him.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t get within one hundred feet of him,” you clarified. “I’m bold, not brave, my love.”

Her weight settled into you a little more as she pulled her knees up and rested the textbook on top of them. She was doing her best to stay calm; that was what gave her away. The faux-relaxation and attempt to act like you hadn’t just been talking about the person that had terrorised not only her, but her family for years.

And shame on you for bringing it back up again.

You wrapped an arm around her, allowing her to truly sink into you as you both continued your studies. It was not, nor would it ever be, an easy thing to live with. You hadn’t experienced it long, but you could already imagine the constant horror. There was something horrific, not about the immediate threat, but about the ever-looming fear that it could be a threat.

Maybe Tara’s suspicion of you was making more and more sense.

—---

Days passed by without even the slightest hint of Ghostface returning. You kept the news on (when Sam was away) in case there was talk of any familiar murders, but there was nothing. Well, nothing outside of the usual murder and carnage that could be found all over New York City. The more you watched the local news, the more convinced you were that you were not living within a safe city.

Then there was the neverending curiosity that desperately clawed itself up from the deepest recesses of your brain. You hadn’t wanted to think of that… that criminal. Not his motives, his history, none of it. There had been an attempt to push it back down. You had even asked your mother for advice, not wanting to bring it up to Sam in an effort - however futile - to keep her away from it all. Again.

She had not been on your side.

“Just ask her, dear,” your mother said. In the background of the call, you could hear Jeopardy playing on the old television. “If you want the knowledge, you ask the expert.”

You sighed as you flopped down on your own couch. “I don’t want to upset her though.”

Subconsciously, you turned on Jeopardy to watch it with your parents. Just like old times.

“She’ll tell you if it upsets her,” she said. Then, quieter, “what is Metamorphoses.”

“Gosh darn, hon, at least give me a chance to guess it,” you heard your father say. It was a faux complaint; his laugh gave him away.

“He needs to guess faster,” you mumbled, not entirely to anyone in particular.

“Did ya hear that?” Your mother started to blab. “Our little Doctor says you need to guess faster.” She barely contained her giggle.

“Don’t tell him that,” you huffed.

“Well I’m sorry we’re not all fancy pants doctors, kiddo,” he said, far too loud. He still couldn’t really comprehend how phones worked. At least he tried. “Takes some of us a bit of time to think, ya know?”

“What is the knee,” your mother said.

“See?” Your dad groaned. “Got me all distracted, I can’t keep up.”

“Then let me let you go,” you said quickly before either one of your parents could say anything else.

“Don’t forget to ask Samantha,” your mother said with an air of nonchalance that you only dreamed of achieving.

“I will,” you said. The commercial had ended and you knew if you waited much longer, you’d hear your parents arguing over the answer again. “I’ll talk to you both tomorrow.”

“Tell Samantha she needs to watch Jeopardy with us some time,” your dad called out.

“Good night,” you insisted.

“Night, hon,” both of your parents mumbled before you finally managed to end the call.

You loved them, you really did. But the last thing you were going to do anytime soon was invite Sam to watch Jeopardy. You wanted to keep a girlfriend, not lose one. Although maybe it would be the mundanity that she needed. There was nothing less exciting than watching game shows with your parents, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Who is Castro,” you mumbled to yourself before the screen showed your exact answer.

It was truly amazing you had kept a girlfriend for as long as you had so far.

—---

“You’re quiet,” Sam said softly.

You looked up from the abyss that was your wine. The restaurant of the week was a bit more luxurious, “fancy,” as J called it. Tara called it “ridiculous,” but you kept your mouth shut; she would be going on a date to the same place within the month. Her opinion didn’t change the fact that it was a lovely restaurant, only made more beautiful by the woman sitting across from you.

“I’m sorry,” you said just as softly. “I’m just thinking.”

She leaned forward on her arms. “Anything in particular?”

Yes, your mind started, would you truly consider yourself a child of Ghostface? After all, Billy Loomis is technically the forefather of the Ghostface lineage, but he didn’t raise you. Would you still consider him your father? Or, perhaps he is your father but not your dad. Some people make that distinction, you know. Does such a thought bother you-

“-My parents are coming to visit in two weeks,” you said with a calm smile that contradicted your internal monologue. “Would you like to meet them?”

Now that made Sam freeze. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at you. If you looked closer, you almost thought you saw her jaw nearly drop. Oh, so she could fight off Ghostface twice and yet she couldn’t meet your parents? They weren’t so bad! Well, not really, just in a different way. Okay, maybe they were a little intimidating, but not in a bad way!

“Are you afraid of my parents?” You asked as you both sat up, sitting back far enough for the waiter to place your food before you. He pursed his lips and attempted not to smile.

“I’m not afraid of them,” she said indignantly. “I’ve just,” she shrugged, “never had to meet someone’s parents before.”

“Never?” You asked. It was easy enough to maintain eye contact - which your mother claimed was important during serious conversations - while picking at your food. “Not once?”

“Not really, no,” she said. She, however, was not making eye contact. “I mean, there was a boyfriend or two in highschool, but I already knew their parents so it doesn’t count.”

“What about Agent Reed?” You asked before taking another bite of your dinner.

Sam smiled softly. “Already knew her parents too.”

“Right, right,” you said with your own nod before finally looking down at your food. You had nearly forgotten what you had ordered to begin with.

You supposed you couldn’t blame her for being worried. No, you couldn’t blame her at all. Though not quite on the same level - although it completely was - you had been as terrified to meet Tara. Though not her parent, Tara was the only family she had left, aside from the twins. That was terrifying enough without technically being a parent.

Then there was the fear that, although you knew Sam would never admit it aloud, she was afraid of parents. Perhaps it was from the fear that they wouldn’t approve of her as her own mother had made painfully clear. There was no gentle way to tell her that her mother was not a good mother. Parents were rarely disappointed in their children, even on the worst days.

Not every family was as tragic as hers.

“Would it help if I told you about them?” You asked slowly. “Then you can decide if you would like to meet them or not.”

Sam chewed her food thoughtfully before looking up at you through her eyelashes. You hated when she did that, truly you did. It made you fold within an instant. She knew it too. Samantha Carpenter knew what she could do to you, and she used her wiles shamelessly. A femme fatale indeed.

“That would actually be nice,” she finally said. There was a raspiness to her voice that she kept reserved for whenever she wanted something.

You didn’t know what exactly she wanted, but you would have given her the world just to find out.

“Alright then,” you said softly, almost inaudibly as you swallowed harshly. “Where to start?”

Throughout the rest of the evening, you told her of your parents. Of their childhoods, or at least what you were aware of, and their accomplishments. You spun tales of their “wild years,” as they had called it back in the ‘70s. She slowly scrolled through the photos on your phone, the ones you had scanned from their physical photos.

By the time you had ordered dessert - a tiramisu that was to die for - you had moved your chair closer to hers. You had told her of their professions; your mother was a librarian at the small elementary school, and your father worked at the local pharmacy. Nothing fancy, nothing to brag about, but they were proud of their jobs.

All the while, Sam listened intently. You could feel her eyes on you the entire time you talked. It was as if she was staring into your soul, trying to pick apart what could be a lie and what was fact. A painful realisation of just how deep her familial trauma ran, even though she and Tara would never admit it aloud.

“That’s about it, really,” you finally said with a shrug. The signed check had been sitting in front of you for far longer than you could say. “My parents’ entire story in the span of a singular dinner date.”

You… wouldn’t think too hard about the fact you had spent an entire dinner date talking about your parents.

“They sound like good people,” Sam said. Her hand was warm in yours.

“They’re rather eccentric in their own way,” you said, “but they mean well.”

You didn’t ask the question yet. It would be up to Sam whether she wanted to meet your parents or not, and you certainly weren’t going to push her one way or another. This was wholly her decision, you had simply laid out enough for her to make an informed decision of her own.

“Would they like me?” She asked softly.

There was a desperation on her face that she rarely let show. Sam was a tough woman; not just physically. But something about this was making her second guess herself and her own abilities. It was preposterous, though you knew one couldn’t fight their own insecurities so easily. The very look on her face broke your heart.

You lifted her hand to cup her cheek, which she eagerly leaned into.

“My darling,” you said gently, “they already do.”

The smallest of smiles lifted the corners of her mouth. Just as with every time you saw her smile, you knew you would do anything for her if she but looked at you the way she was in that moment. All bright eyes and carefree smile and as beautiful as the day you had first seen her.

“I want to meet them,” she said. “If it’s alright.”

You leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. “It’s always alright.”

—---

Your parents loved Sam.

On top of that, your parents loved Sam and Tara. The literal moment they had found out Sam had a little sister, they had demanded you have her over as well. You had done your best not to eavesdrop, but when Sam called it was clear Tara wanted no part of it. However, for better or worse, the decision was made and Sam agreed to bring Tara over the next evening.

Then you all made the mistake of mentioning J. You should have known better, truly you should have. You knew your parents and their proclivity for practically adopting everyone into the family. They had picked it up in the ‘70s and had never gone back. Tara was practically blackmailed into bringing J with her the next night.

Your parents took to all of them like they were blood.

“You three better start practising,” your dad pointed out when the three newest family members were unusually silent while The Price is Right played in the background. “We only take it easy on ya the first time.”

“Dad,” you warned as you continued putting up Trivial Pursuit.

Your mom had wiped the floor with everyone, as usual.

“Don’t listen to him, hon,” your mom said. She was sitting proudly on her Winner’s Chair, as she had dubbed it after only the second win of the night. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

“You sure about that?” J asked, their accent almost a comical contrast to your mother’s. “I felt like a fish outta water.”

“Practice makes perfect,” your mom said with a smile that was far too cheery for the humiliation she had instilled upon you all.

You would never forgive her for embarrassing you in front of Sam.

“We should get going,” Tara said rather reluctantly. “We have to be somewhere in the morning.”

“Where?” J asked.

The disappointment on Tara’s face was worthy of a picture.

“Brunch with your parents,” she said quietly.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” J said. Their voice, on the other hand, was far too loud for the situation. It was rather comical; you didn’t know how those two had ended up together, but their contrast was a work of art. “We gotta go.”

“Before ya head out,” your dad said as everyone stood up to tell them bye, “we gotta hug it out since we’re leavin’ tomorrow.”

J and Tara shared a look before looking at you. Right. None of them were really touchy-feely people. Being around your parents for the week had erased that possibility from your mind. With your bunch, you were all touching, hugging, patting each other on the back, whatever you could get away with. There hadn’t even been a thought in your mind that everyone else was a bit hesitant with their physical affection.

“You don’t have to,” you said softly with a shake of your head.

“Oh, are ya not a hugger?” Your mom asked.

“How’s about a handshake, bud?” Your dad said just as quickly.

“Handshake works great,” J said with their stereotypical toothy grin.

Your parents shook both J’s and Tara’s hands, telling them how lovely it was to meet them, inviting them over for Christmas and Easter and 4 of July and every other holiday they could think of. You walked the both of them out of the apartment while your parents continued to shout invitations to them.

Come over if ya need to get away for a weekend.

I’ll mail ya both some homemade cookies soon.

Expect somethin’ for your birthdays.

They didn’t stop offering things until the door closed behind the couple and it was only Sam left. Not that it stopped your parents, of course, they just simply turned their invitations towards her. Your parents were overwhelming, you knew they were. They meant well, they were just… a lot.

Yet Sam managed to handle it with grace and charm, and you simply fell more and more in love with her. She had your parents laughing, smiling, cracking jokes that they normally wouldn’t when they were alone with you. Something about her brought out a slightly less reserved side of them that you didn’t think you had ever seen.

And when she looked up and met your eyes as they continued talking with her, there was a familiar sparkle that you didn’t see as often as you would like, especially after hearing that Ghostface was back. She looked like your Sam, the one who had joked with you and teased you about your proclivity for books. The one you had woken up with last summer without a single care in the world.

The one you were utterly devoted to and would have sacrificed anything to make happy. That was your Sam once again.

—---

It was a beautiful late-winter day. The air was still a bit chilly, and you were bundled tightly in your warm coat that went down to your ankles. One of your hands was shoved deep into the pockets while the other held a small bouquet of flowers. The sweet bodega owner on the corner of your street was notorious for having the most beautiful flowers, and you now had to agree.

You were supposed to be home grading essays while Sam studied. One of the few relegated nights a week where you were both at your own homes. But you had missed her during the day, and you wouldn’t apologise for it. On the walk home, you had decided you would surprise her. After all, everyone loved flowers, didn’t they?

The streets were as busy as they usually were, but that was alright. It was a rather lovely evening, and it gave you more time to think about Sam. There was no doubt in your mind that anyone, possibly everyone would have teased you for how much of a… what did J call it? A simp you were for her. Yet you didn’t mind. You would have done anything for her without an ounce of hesitation.

Your mind started replaying the nights you spent with her. Some more exciting than others, though none of them a bore. The nights you spent together in each other’s bed, keeping quiet at her place while not bothering to do the same at yours. Or the nights you would just lay there, tracing scars and telling stories. Hers were far more interesting than yours, that was for sure.

Would it be too soon to start questioning if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her? It had been nearly a year, if your memory served you well. Not the longest length of time, but you knew plenty of people that had questioned it much sooner. Would you want to spend the rest of your life with her?

Yes. Yes, you would. Being able to wake up to Sam every morning, hair splayed out on your pillow even as she insisted she was on her own. To be there for her when the nightmares and fears became too much. A shoulder to lean on, to cry on, a hand to hold when she needed it. You wanted to be by her side through it all, the good, the bad, the fun, the terrifying.

Nothing sounded better than being able to call her yours for the rest of your lives.

You didn’t bother buzzing to be let in; someone already downstairs let you in, having recognised you, you supposed. It wouldn’t have been too far of a stretch, you had frequented the apartment complex often enough. You were almost certain you knew the Carpenters’ neighbours better than they did.

Each step up the stairs had your heart racing faster. You were of the mind of a giddy school child, seeing their crush for the first time after the weekend. It was a little silly, but you didn’t care. Your parents had instilled in you the ability to be proud of your tendencies that most would find a little ridiculous. And you would never be shamed for wanting to see your girlfriend.

There were a few muffled voices behind the door when you approached the apartment. It wasn’t unusual, they were the centre hub for their friends. Sometimes the twins would come over, sometimes Anika would come around for a short escape, sometimes all three would arrive at once. On occasion you had even seen Quinn, though she had moved out some months ago and only frequented the bigger gatherings.

You opened the door quietly, doing your best not to disturb whoever else was inside. Slowly slipping into the apartment and easing the door shut, you did your best to keep the flowers as presentable as possible. After all, that was the surprise you had spent so long picking out. It would do you no good to mess them up before you could even give them to Sam. You turned around-

-the flowers fell to the floor with a thump.

“Oh shit.”

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Victory Tastes Damn Good - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 3384>

warnings - smut, under 18s dni

"Come on Carlos, come on," you muttered, feeling sick with nerves that you thought you might throw up. It was the final lap of the Singapore Grand Prix, and Lando was doing a great job as he backed up the final of the two Mercedes.

You couldn't help but close your eyes as they hurtled down the homestraight, unable to watch just in case it went wrong. But, the angels were looking down on you and granted your wishes, as you heard through your headphones, "Carlos Sainz has won the Singapore Grand Prix!" 

The team were screaming and jumping for joy, and you couldn't help it as tears escaped your eyes and down onto your cheeks. Even more tears flowed as you sang along with Carlos and his engineer, in celebration of the smoothest of operations. 

You rushed out to parc ferme, but couldn't get anywhere near the front due to the masses of Ferrari personel that were out there. You didn't even care though, as you got to watch Carlos get out of the car, finally victorious. He had been close in Monza, but that didn't matter. 

You may not have been able to see his face, but the pure joy that radiated from him could be felt from the distance you were at. While everyone was occupied at parc ferme, you headed straight to the podium.

Seeing him stood up there was magic. There was no easy way to describe how you felt, but it was like drowning in a sea of golden delight, and you didn't know whether to open your eyes or let it take you away.

It was like you were in a dream, and a part of you was terrified that you were going to wake up. You just couldn't tear your eyes away from him. You thought he was going to fizzle away, and the Spanish anthem would turn Dutch, and Carlos would turn blonde. 

But, it didn't happen. The anthem finished, and the Scuderia finally got to hear the grace of the Italian anthem. Carlos simply couldn't wipe the grin off his face, and you didn't want him to. It was the embodiment of everything he had worked so hard to achieve, and his brilliantly clever and down right genius racing had brought him to where he deserved to be.

At the top.

Watching him hoist his trophy high wa bliss, and it was like a King in front of his people as the whole of the Tifosi beneath him cheered and screamed. As the champagne flowed, Carlos and Lando showed everyone just how precious Carlando was, and you adored the friendship they had. 

Just as you had managed to stop crying, you finally got to see Carlos properly, and he had finally found you. He was looking for you, but was too caught up in the moment to properly search. You didn't know what to say as you looked at him.

He was stood right in front of you, and you couldn't muster a single world. "I just-" you fumbled, putting both of your hands on his face and squishing his cheeks lightly, trying to check if he was actually real. 

"You just fucking won, Carlos!" you squealed, violently shaking him by his shoulders, before yanking him into your arms. "Did I? Huh, I was wondering where the trophy and champagne came from," he deeply chuckled in your ear. 

"I think someone slipped something in my drink this isn't normal," you laughed, ruffling his hair slightly. "It's called being extremely fucking happy, baby, I feel it too," he said, kissing you as he picked you up and twirled you around. 

"We are getting so fucked up tonight," you beamed, itching to get celebrating as wildly and extravagantly as you wanted. "Well, you might be," he cheekily smirked, winking at you. 

"Wasn't what I was talking about, but since you've done so spectacularly, I'll consider it," you smirked, spotting the mischievous glint in his eyes. "I doubt you'll be having to do much considering," he whispered in your ear, backing you up and pinning you against the wall of the motorhome with his body. 

"I think I deserve it, don't you?" he lowly asked, his breath tickling your ear. 

"Oh you do, but you'll have to wait," you mused, knowing that you had absolutely no control in this moment, but you knew he liked it when you thought you had the upper hand. "Winners don't wait, baby," he coyly grinned, leaning impossibly closer to you and peppering a few light kisses down your neck.

"This one is going to have to, this isn't the right place," you said, gently pushing him away with a tap on the shoulder. "And why is that?" He asked, gazing down at you as he still pressed you against the wall. "You know why,"

"Maybe I do, but I want to hear you say it," he leered, knowing the exact reason why you didn't want to do anything with him right here, right now. "Because I'd have to be quiet," you muttered. "And why would that be such a challenge, my love?" he teased, tucking a lock of loose hair behind your ear.

"I don't think I'll be able to refrain from telling you just how brilliant you are. At racing, and other things," you giggled, snaking your arms around his neck. Judging by his reaction, you knew you had told him exactly what he wanted to hear. 

"Well, I guess that would be an added bonus to finding somewhere away from here," he winked, stepping away from you when footfalls approached you. "Carlos, race debrief in five," Charles said, practically stomping past.

"Alright, thanks," he nodded, waiting for Charles to round the corner at the end of the corridor. As soon as he was out of sight, Carlos lunged forward and captured your lips with his. His hands found their place on your waist, one of them slowly trailing down your body.

"Hey, patience," you said, tugging his hand away by his wrist. 

"Sorry, I just can't keep my hands off you," he said, forcing himself to walk away, because if he got his hands on you again, he wouldn't be able to get them off. As he backed away, he shot a wink towards you with a smug grin, "I'll see you later, baby,"

"I'll see you later, Carlos," you smiled, leaning back against the wall and giving yourself a minute to catch your breath. Carlos made you feel like a rowdy teenager all over again, and he never failed to surprise you with his antics. 

You were in for one hell of a night. You thought back to when he won in Silverstone last year and what happened after that, and there was no doubt in your mind that tonight was not going to be any different. 

You didn't really know where to go to wait for Carlos, so you just sat on the couch of the motor home, posted pictures of him on every social media platform known to man and tried to wipe the huge, goofy smile off your face.

There was pride still bubbling in your chest, and it was a tingle that you never wanted to shake off. You checked the time, seeing that they had been in the team debrief for about fifty minutes. It had been a while, and you wanted to stretch your legs.

The general public had gone, leaving the track staff and team workers in at the track. It left you to wander around the paddock freely, without reporters fishing for a quick headline, or people constantly surrounding you as you shuffled through, shoulder to shoulder.

You could walk past the motorhomes, as the lights lit up the path, the air feeling warm on your skin. You smiled at the few people that walked by, none of them stopping you on your travels around the paddock. 

Most of the teams and people were in their motorhomes, still going through their debriefs. After some time, you saw a stream of papaya walking out of the doors, and you figured there would soon be a river of scarlet to follow. 

"Hey Lando, great job out there, you smashed it," you smiled as the curly haired boy passed by, a huge grin plastered on his face. "Thanks, it was a great race," he nodded, "Hey, you free tonight? You look great," he smirked. 

"Don't let Carlos hear you ask that," you laughed, used to Lando constantly flirting with you. He had done it ever since you had met him, and Carlos knew it. "He's fine with it, he knows a pretty lady like you gets plenty of attention," he charmed.

"Are we talking about the same Carlos?" you raised an eyebrow at him, knowing how possessive Carlos could be at times. He liked to have you all to himself, and you wouldn't have it any other way.  "Why only have first place when you can have second too?" he continued, leaning against the wall behind him. "It's happened before, it can happen again," he said.

"OK Lando, I'm going to go and see if Carlos is ready now," you side-eyed him, brushing off his comment as a joke and hoping it was nothing more. 

Lando just chuckled at you, waving you away as you walked. More teams were filtering out of their motorhomes for the night as you strolled down the path, no sign of anything red. Just as you reached the outside of the Ferrari motorhome, a hand was held over your mouth as another hand positioned itself on your stomach, tugging you back.

You went to scream, but the hand muffled the sounds. You tried to kick away, hoping to catch the attention of a passerby. "Baby, don't struggle, it's just me," a voice whispered in your ear, and your struggling muscles instantly relaxed.

"The hell are you playing at?" you whisper shouted, spinning around to face him. He still had his race suit on, and his skin was still sticky from the champagne.

"I just needed to see you, needed to touch you," he murmured, pulling you as close as he could. "Wait until we get back, we've been over this," you sighed, trying to ignore the feeling of his hands roaming your figure.

"But I need you now, baby," he spat, pinning you against the wall in one swift movement. "Everyone will hear and anyone who walks past will see," you told him.

"As soon as the last few guys from ours leave, we're the only ones left," he explained to you.

"There are security cameras everywhere, Carlos," you told him, your eyes darting around the space surrounding you, checking for any sign of surveillance. "Nothing can see here, I checked," he smirked.

One of Carlos' hands braced on your waist, the other trailing over your hip bones. "Fuck it," you mumbled, pulling him in by his neck and passionately kissing him. "That's my girl," he breathed against your lips.

You realised that people had stopped wandering out of the track, and you poked your head around the corner to see if there was anyone there. Much to your delight, the path past all of the motorhomes and across the paddock was like a ghost town. 

Most of the lights around the circuit flicked off as the final staff left for the night, leaving you alone at the track. There was a rush of excitement surging through you, curious to do whatever it was that Carlos was so hell bent on doing out in the open, where anyone could potentially see.

No more words were exchanged as you nodded at him to give him the all clear, to give him permission for whatever he was wanting to do. He hungrily took your lips with his, not even giving you the chance to breathe.

It felt like you were in a stormy sea, only able to capture a small gasp of air every now and then, but the burn that lingered in your lungs was like cold air on a winters' day.

Carlos' hands slithered up the sides of your thighs, sneaking under the material of your dress. His touch left tingles in their wake as his fingers brushed the skin on your hips.

"Can I?" he asked, hooking his fingers into the thin side of your underwear. "Of course," you nodded, pulling at his neck to bring him back into a kiss. Once you had stepped out of the lace, it was kicked to the side and discarded.

His lips moved across your jaw and delicately down your neck, across your shoulder. "Unfortunately for the both of us, we need to keep this on, just in case anyone decides to ruin our fun," he smirked against your skin, tugging at the material at the waist of your dress, "I don't want anyone else seeing you the way I get to,"

Normally you'd be alarmed at the prospect of someone seeing, or catching you in the act, but you were too caught up in it to care. Too fuelled with desire to be bothered. Too needy for him to think.

His lips still roamed slowly down, his hand sneaking back under the skirt of your dress and dangerously close to you. His fingers teased the skin of your upper thighs, and the temptation to push yourself closer to him was nearly unbearable.

But then, a thought struck you. "Hey, tonight is about you, allow me, I think you deserve a reward, no?" you breathed, pulling his face within a centimetre of yours by grabbing his chin. Your other hand snaked down his chest, all the way down to where his race suit was rolled down.

Carlos grabbed your wrist, pinning it against the wall. "If it's about me, then it's about you too. Getting to see you squirm for me, getting to hear how much you need me is the best reward you could give me," he smugly grinned, sinking to his knees in front of you.

His lips placed feather light kisses up the insides of your thighs, flitting from one to the other. "Fucking hell," he groaned, seeing the effect he had on you. "It's that easy, huh?" he teased, still kissing the insides of your thighs. "You're just too good," you lightly chucked, a hint of desperation in your voice.

"Say it again, it sounded good," he told you as he pushed your knees further apart. 

"You are so fucking brilliant, I don't even- Fuck," you breathed out as he teased you with his tongue. He slowly circled your clit as you pushed your hips into him.

"Tell me baby, tell me how much you want me," he told you, lightly running his tongue over you. "I need you, Carlos, I don't think I can wait," you pleaded, and it was music to his ears. It was the fuel that kept him going.

Without further hesitation, he started lapping and sucking at all the right places. Those special spots that he had mapped out in his mind. You both held the dangerous assumption that there was not a single soul around that could hear or see what you were doing.

"Am I doing a good job?" he asked, not ceasing with his movements. With his every action, the fizz in your lower abdomen became closer and closer to bubbling over. "Fuck yes you are, please don't stop," you mewled, tangling your hand in his hair, pulling at his dark locks. 

You couldn't help but buck your hips towards him, desperate for more. Carlos let out a low chuckle, "So I'm that good, huh?" he teased, adoring the way you tugged gently at the strands of his hair. "You're a winner for a reason," you said, your back arching off of the wall. 

Tingles were slowly spreading across your body, and the ever more desperate moans you were letting out told Carlos everything he needed to know. "You close, baby?" he asked, half mocking, half serious. 

He could tell the answer of the question quite easily, your legs were starting to shake and your hands were slowing their movements in his hair. "Fuck yes, I-" you managed to get out, the pleasure hitting you in a wave that spread across your body.  

It was like electricity pulsing through your veins, and your legs were buckling underneath you. Carlos rose from his knees and captured your lips in a heated kiss, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. "You know what that is? That's the taste of victory, and I think it's pretty damn good," he told you, caressing your sides.

"You OK to keep going?" he asked, despite is desperation. Even if he needed you more than anything else right now, your comfort was still his top priority. "Mhm, I don't wanna stop," you told him, and that was enough for him. 

You pushed his race suit down his legs quickly, knowing just how much both of you needed it. "Jump," he instructed between kisses, hoisting you up as your legs locked around his waist. He held you against the wall as he guided himself into your entrance. 

"Shit you feel good," he groaned, burying his head into your neck as he rocked his hips into yours. His lips left purply-red splotches on your skin, and you could feel them forming. Every time he thrust into you, you both let out groans of pleasure as you came closer to release. 

"Oh my god you're good, so fucking amazing," you rambled, and your praises fuelled him on more. He started to thrust into you deeper and harder, and he touched that spot that made you see stars. 

"You're the best reward I have ever gotten," he spat through gritted teeth, trying to hold himself together. "You deserve it," you breathed, your thighs burning from being clasped around his waist for the length of time you had. 

"Carlos, I-," you fumbled, unable to form legible words as you felt the pressure in your stomach build up to an unbearable level. You didn't need words to tell him, he could feel the way your walls wrapped tightly around him. 

"Carlos, I'm going to-," you started, but you were silenced by Carlos smashing his lips against yours, "Me too," he groaned as his pace picked up, hungry for release. Both of your moans were muffled as the release of pressure made your vision black out. 

It was like ropes of energy shooting through your abdomen, as you cried out and threw your head back against the wall. Your nails scratched over the skin of his neck, leaving red streaks in their path as the skin turned raw. His hips slowed to a halt as you were both left, breathless and exhausted. 

"Are you OK to stand, or do you want me to hold you for a bit longer?" he asked, his eyes turning from hungry to soft. "I should be fine, you can put me down," you said, Carlos gently lowering you back down to the ground. 

Your legs were kind of numb, as you leant against the wall to catch your breath. "We're still going to get pissed, right?" you asked, not ready for your night to be over. Carlos pulled his race suit back over his hips and stood in front of you, staring at the hickeys he had left on your neck. 

"You're probably going to have to cover these up, but then again, I'd love for everyone to see what I get when I win," he smirked, his hands gripping your waist. 

"Then you're probably going to have to cover these up," you laughed, running your fingers over the red scratches on his neck. "Let people see, I don't mind," he laughed, ignoring the sting they left on his skin. 

"I don't know if I want people knowing what we get up to," you chuckled, leaning against him as you started to walk out from in between the motorhomes. "True, I don't want anyone imagining you like that, that's all for me," he said, gripping you tighter. 

"Tell that to Lando," you quipped, since you knew Carlos knew how flirtatious he was with you. "He's an exception," he winked, checking to see if there were any people around. A blush tinted your cheeks as you realised that Lando's comment from earlier might not have been a joke. 

A/N - It's been a week, I know, I'm sorry. I've been really busy, so think of this as a one week anniversary gift. But in all seriousness, it still doesn't feel real, and it makes Forza Ferrari-ing through the pain that little bit easier. That was the smoothest of operations, and could not be prouder of our chili 🌶💖

|masterlist|

[disillusioneddanny]

A Place in this world

Danny took a breath and let it out slowly as he started to get ready for the day. It had been six months since his parents lost custody of him since he had been welcomed into the folds of the Wayne Family. Since Batman himself had saved him from his parents’ experimentation table. His parents were now safely locked up in Arkham Asylum where they would spend the next ten years serving their punishment and Danny was safely living within the confines of Wayne Manor.

Things had been going rather well so far. The Bats had been insanely understanding about Danny wanting to live a normal life now that the portals had all been shut down. The most they requested from Danny was the occasional help on their gadgets and Danny was more than happy to help with that. He had more fun working on the Batmobile and Batplane than he ever did being a vigilante.

And they had encouraged his special interests! They even indulged him in it, letting him have his own little study dedicated to just his experiments and inventions. It had been amazing when Bruce had first shown him all of the spaces that were just for him. He had a bedroom that was as big as his parents' old living room and had an entire space dedicated to his inventions. And on top of that, Bruce had encouraged him to build his own portal so that if he wanted to go to the ghost zone he could. He had even made a space in the Batcave that was just for him if he ever decided to build it.

Six months in and he hadn’t decided yet if that was something he wanted to do. He hadn’t gone ghost a single time since he had moved to Gotham. He was starting to miss it if he was going to be honest. There was something about his ghost form that was just truly comforting. It just felt wrong, though, almost like it was taboo to do such a thing. Which he had no real reason to feel that way. Batman or well, Bruce, had assured him multiple times now that he was more than welcome to change into his ghost form whenever he wanted. Had just requested that Danny let him know if he was going out when he was Phantom so that they wouldn’t think he was a new rogue or anything of the such.

He was missing it, though. The longer he went without shifting into his ghost form, the tighter his skin felt. It was starting to feel like he couldn’t fit in his human form anymore. He could feel himself growing more restless as the days went by, and could feel himself fraying at the edges.

Which was why he was letting himself spend the day in his Phantom form even if it was kinda terrifying the more he thought about it. It was the first time since Batman had saved him and none of his new family had ever really seen him in this form before. It was nerve-wracking but he was going to do it.

He let the bright rings wrap around his body and breathed out as he felt himself change into Phantom, it felt like taking a deep breath on a cold winter’s day. He let himself phase through the door, using his powers a little more than he used to dispel some of the pent-up energy.

The Fenton’s had hypothesized that ecto entities relied on ectoplasm to live, that they needed it like humans needed oxygen. But that wasn’t quite right. Ghosts were ectoplasm. Despite the fact that they were sentient and sapient-looking beings, they were more closely aligned with plants. They created their own energy to survive. And Danny had been letting the ecto that his ghost form created build up inside of him and now he was just about ready to burst from all of it.

“It’s fine,” he breathed out before floating out of the room. His feet were mere inches from the ground as he made his way down the stairs and into the breakfast room where he could already hear the rest of his family sitting around talking and preparing for their mornings. The only people who lived in the manor were Alfred, Bruce, Damian, and Duke. So it wasn’t like everyone in the Wayne family was going to be there to see him. Jason lived in Crime Alley, Dick was in Bludhaven, Steph lived on campus, Cass was in Hong Kong and well, no one actually knew where Tim lived now that Danny was thinking about it.

Why did no one know where Tim lived? He shook his head, he was distracting himself from the matter at hand. And that was having breakfast with his new brothers and adoptive father.

Things quieted as he floated through the wall and gave them an awkward smile. “G’morning,” he mumbled, dipping his head down as he took his usual seat beside Damian.

Bruce gave him a small, proud smile. “Good morning, Danny. Or should we call you Phantom when you’re in this form?” He asked and Danny felt his cheeks blush, a bright green color when he was in this form.

“Danny’s fine. Phantom’s just what I went by when I was out as a hero,” he said, stabbing at the pancakes placed in front of him. “Sorry, I just–”

“No need to apologize, Daniel,” Damian said, a small smile on his face. “We are happy that you feel comfortable enough to show us this side of you.”

Danny gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I uh, I realized I’m needing to take better care of my ghost self. And you guys are safe, I don’t have to worry like I did with the Fentons,” he said quietly.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Bruce asked him, arching a brow in curiosity.

Danny let out a quiet hum as he cut up his pancakes, frowning at the slightly strange texture. Dick had warned him that Alfred’s pancakes weren’t the best but he wasn’t expecting them to be like straight-up rubber. Jason had said that no one had the guts to tell him that they were gross and well, Danny had eaten much worse than rubbery pancakes.

“My ghost side has a tendency to create bonds with people I consider family, so it’s wanting to create those bonds with all of you,” he said carefully, staring at his rubbery pancakes rather than at his new family.

“I think that’s completely okay,” Bruce said with a small smile. “Can you explain a bit more about the social aspects of being a ghost? I think that we would all appreciate a quick lesson so that we can better support you.”

Danny blushed again and nodded. “So ghosts are protective creatures,” he said with a snort as he rested his chin on his hand. “It’s like your own personal protector but on top of that, we’re very social creatures who rely on one another, we get power from it actually. A lot of ghosts bond through fighting with one another, it’s a way to bond. But also indulging in activities together is another one. So, going out to hang out, spending time together, that all helps build the fraid bonds. A ghost’s family is its fraid. So the closer I get to you, then you’ll become my fraid which comes with a few perks? I guess you could call them perks.”

The halfa wrinkled his nose as he wracked his brain to figure out how to explain the perks. “Since you’re humans you’ll get access to a few of my powers,” he said slowly. “Sam, Jazz, and Tucker all turned kinda liminal because of our fraid bonds. It gave them some enhanced strength, they were able to see in the dark, and the shadows pulled to them a little more so it was almost like they could turn invisible at night. So you guys would get some of those same benefits.”

“That sounds awesome!” Duke said excitedly, a wide smile on his face.

“What benefits do you receive?” Damian asked with a frown, tilting his head to the side.

“I get the benefit of having stronger bonds which will make me stronger as well. I’ll also know when you’re in danger or not–something that I think will be a bitch considering your night jobs,” he said with a soft laugh. “But family bonds mean I’m healthy. If I have a lack of fraid bonds I’ll get sick and weak and grumpy. It’s why I finally gave in and changed to this form because I could feel it start to happen.”

Bruce frowned as he mulled over the information that Danny had just thrown at him. “What do we need to do to create these bonds with you?”

Danny blushed a bright green. “Spend time with me.”

“Tomorrow we shall go to the park together and take Titus on a walk,” Damian announced. “I shall have the strongest bonds with you, Daniel. Just you wait.”

Duke snickered. “It’s not a competition, Dami. We’re doing this for Danny’s health and to be closer to our brother.”

“And I will be the best at it, I will become Daniel’s favorite brother,” Damian exclaimed.

“You just want super strength so you can fight Jon,” Bruce said with a laugh and Danny giggled into his hand.

“I don’t know if you’ll be as strong as a Kryptonian, Dami. But I did see Jazz pick up the fridge like it weighed nothing one time,” Danny said thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side as he tried to think more about how strong his friends and sister were by the time he had left Amity. “So maybe don’t pick a fight with Superboy, it might just end with you covered in a lot of bruises.”

Damian huffed out a sigh. “I will still be the best brother, regardless,” he said, pushing his lower lip out in a pout. Danny snickered and took another bite of his rubbery pancakes, chewing far longer than he had ever had to chew a pancake before.

Danny just mustered up a small smile for his new family. Hopefully, this would go well.

Did you enjoy? Read the rest on ao3 here

[gojoacedia]

Katsuki Bakugou knows the feeling of ‘your legs moving on their own to save someone’ just as much as any other pro hero on his level. That still doesn't stop him from being upset that your legs moved on their own to save him.

It was a normal patrol like any other day, and both Katsuki's and your agencies had assigned you to an area that had a recent spike in crime. You greeted Katsuki and had a small conversation with him about the crime in the area before you were in action. A villain ran right past both of you with a giant bag of illicit substances, and the two of you immediately started the chase. You had run a few blocks down when you saw a slight falter in the villain’s steps, indicating to you that he was about to attack. You jumped ahead of Katsuki as soon as you saw his falter, successfully getting hit with the villain’s quirk.

Usually, when you get hit with a quirk you shake it off and continue the chase. You had trained with all kinds of heroes with every quirk imaginable, making your tolerance to pain way above average. But this was no normal quirk. Katsuki knew your pain tolerance better than anyone, having trained with you throughout your careers as heroes, so he was terrified to see you immediately stumble before falling over. Katsuki had been in plenty of situations where his partners had dropped, and he knew the moment after a villain's quirk went off was when they were most vulnerable. Katsuki’s main focus was taking down the villain before he could hurt you or anyone else more than he already had. In a single moment, the villain was detained.

After Katsuki was satisfied with the state the villain was in, he sprinted back towards you to make sure you were ok. He thought you would be passed out or writhing in pain, but to his surprise, you were trying to stand up and swaying like a sorority girl who had a few too many. He rushed over to you, and right as you were about to take a step in his direction he caught you before you fell down.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked you in an annoyed voice. If you weren’t in pain, why did you fall so spectacularly? He felt your hands trail up his arms and wrap around his neck to steady yourself before you fell over again. His expression turned into one of shock when he saw your face. Your eyes were half-lidded, cheeks a darker shade from all the blood rushing to them, and lips glossy and parted into a lazy smile.

“I think… I’m drunk,” you slurred back to him, biting and sucking on your lips to make sure you didn’t accidentally drool on him. You had never been in this state before, usually throwing up before you could reach this level. But throwing up now wouldn’t do anything; there was no alcohol in your body. Katsuki felt your weight on him increase as you started falling to the ground once again. He clicked his tongue.

“tch. Dumbass,” he called you before picking you up bridal style to carry you back to his agency. He knew taking you to the hospital was useless because there was no alcohol in your system, so he opted to take care of you himself until the quirk wore off. He didn’t trust anyone other than himself to not take advantage of you in this state.

Katsuki had seen you drunk before, he knew you hated crowds and that was why you were always tipsy at hero galas or work parties. But this was a different type of wasted he had never seen from you. As a hero, you were always subconsciously ready for another fight, which was why you never got to the point of being immobile. Katsuki had honestly convinced himself that it was impossible for you to get wasted. But here you were, in his arms, no care about what was going on in the outside world due to the world inside your head being too overwhelming.

Katsuki made sure to carry you in his agency in a way that wouldn’t show your face or the state you were in to anyone else, again worried you would get taken advantage of. He had that look on his face that said ‘Don’t talk to me,’ a look his agency knew all too well and respected like their jobs depended on it. In his office, he sat you down on the small couch in the corner used mostly for situations like this. After setting you down, he tried to return to his desk to get some work done on the villain he had caught with you, but you grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down. He was shocked to see you express any form of consciousness, so he sat next to you.

“What?” He asked in a tone way harsher than intended.

“How long… is this last?” You slurred, not being able to worry about using proper grammar. He sighed, wishing he could help you more.

“I don’t know, but I’ll be right here if you need anything at all,” he told you before getting up to grab his water bottle from his desk. “Drink this, it might help,” he handed it to you. He watched in amusement as you tried to figure out how to properly grab the water bottle. It seemed like you were just as shocked as he was about your level of drunk.

“Don’t you laugh at me! I was the one savin’ your ass!” you mumbled almost incoherently. Katsuki would have argued with you any other day, but because you probably wouldn’t remember this he just smirked down at you. He could tell you needed much more attention than he originally thought, so he pulled up a chair and sat across from you, ensuring you didn’t choke on the water he gave you.

“Also stop lookin’ at me like that… I already have to resist makin’ out with you while I’m sober… I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself in this state,” you dropped on him before setting the water bottle down on the floor and failing, making it immediately fall over. Katsuki couldn’t even bring himself to pick it up for you. He was too shocked by your confession. He told himself this was just the fact that you were drunk, and it didn’t mean anything. But he couldn’t deny he felt the same way.

“Shut up… I’ll tell your agency you can’t make it to work tomorrow,” he said before getting up and walking to his desk to email your agency. You didn’t ignore how red his face got. “Oh? I like the sound of that. What are we doing tomorrow?” you yawned through your sentence, leaning back down on the couch. “We aren’t doing anything. You are going to be hungover out of your mind and I don’t want to deal with that,” Katsuki explained to you, hiding behind his computer so you couldn't see how much redder his cheeks got. When Katsuki didn’t hear you reply, he looked over his monitor to see if you were still alive. His gaze softened at the look of your sleeping form on his couch.

—

“Oh my fuck,” you growled at the booming pain in your head. You couldn’t even open your eyes, your room was too bright. You grabbed your blanket to cover your eyes with, but your blanket seemed to be a different texture than it was last night. You cracked your eyes slightly open to see what was going on. You weren’t in your room at all. And there was Katsuki, in the doorway, holding a glass of water and painkillers. Once you knew you weren’t kidnapped (by a villain), you covered your eyes once again, hoping it would calm your headache even slightly. “What happened?” You asked without looking at him. You heard him walk over to you to set the water and painkillers on the bedside table.

“You got hit by a quirk and it made you blackout drunk,” he said quickly, not wanting to recount what actually happened.

“Drunk? So I didn’t just immediately pass out? I remember walking on the sidewalk back to my agency but that’s all…” You recounted, frustrated that you couldn’t remember anything else.

“Take these,” Katsuki said before handing you the painkillers, desperate to change the topic. You reached out with squinted eyes (it was still way too bright) and took them in one gulp.

“Did I say anything? How drunk was I? I’ve never blacked out like that before…” You tried to remember what happened again but it was all too blurry.

“You were very drunk. You couldn’t even form complete sentences.” Katsuki told you the white lie before leaving the room. You laid back down, hoping the painkillers would kick in soon. Then you realized.

“I was forming incomplete sentences? What did I say?” you yelled back to him before scrambling out of bed. You knew yourself better than anyone, which means you knew how horny you get when you’re drunk. You had confessed your true feelings to far too many people being just a few drinks in, so you couldn’t imagine what you had confessed to Katsuki while you were absolutely obliterated. You heard Katsuki click his tongue. You knew that meant he didn’t want to talk. “Oh nuh-uh, you are not going to hold from me something that came out of my own mouth Bakugou. What did I say?” You yelled while stomping over to him to get his attention. He finally turned to look down at you. Anyone else wouldn’t notice, but the slight blush on his cheeks was clear as day to you. Your heart dropped more.

“Let me take you on a date. Tonight.” Your eyes widened at his request. All you could do was nod as you started to piece yesterday together. You knew you had confessed to him at this point because he wasn’t scared of rejection. He probably just asked you on a date because he didn’t want you to be the first one to make a move.

“Meet you at 6?”

[hypewinter]

Danny checked his package one last time. Just like the other 50 dozen times he had checked, it was undisturbed. The wrapping paper was neatly folded around his gift and the bow was still placed perfectly in the center of the package. The bag he was currently carrying it in was likewise in decent condition. No threat of a tear in sight.

Thank goodness. He wanted the surprise to be perfect. After all, Jason had been doing much better recently. It had been two months already since he had found the poor boy trying to claw his way out of his own grave. Two painful months of panic attacks, crying, screaming and hitting but it was all worth it.

Of course Jason still had his bad days. The worse were when he would just stare blankly off into the distance. As if he soul was still deciding whether it wanted to go back to his body or stay in the Ghost Zone. Those days terrified Danny because each time, he was always scared that would be the day Jason's soul decided to stay where it was. Yet he was still here and that constituted a celebration. Danny checked his package once again. Yep still there. Danny didn't really get all that Jane Eyre stuff but Jason seemed to like it. The days he chattered on and on about it were some of his best days. The ones where he was fully present and not reliving the worst experience of his life. Danny really hoped the Brontë Sisters Box Set he'd gotten would inspire more of those good days.

As he rounded the corner, now only a couple of blocks away from his apartment, he heard crying. Or was it laughing? Either way it sounded like a child and a kid being out here this late at night couldn't be a good sign. Danny rerouted towards the alleyway he heard the sound coming from.

There he saw a boy huddled in the corner. He was wearing some type of purple and green suit. As Danny approached, the boy looked up to reveal a face smeared with white face paint and fat tears. Danny put his hands up as the kid shrank further into the corner.

"It's okay," he said. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Where are your parents at buddy?"

In response, the kid broke out into another giggle fit. But Danny could see from the terrified look in his eyes and the tears that continued to flow freely that the boy didn't mean to laugh. He crouched down and placed the bag on the ground, inching forward slightly.

"It's okay, It's okay," he said quickly, attempting to calm the boy down. "How about we start by getting that makeup off of you huh?"

Danny inched forward slowly but surely, stopping periodically when the boy got too panicked. Eventually, he was right in front of the kid and carefully used his sleeve to wipe his face as clean as possible.

"There. Is that better?"

The boy's giggling turned into snickering which might actually mean he was going from crying to sniffling. At least that's what he hoped was happening. Danny breathed and decided to take a risk by pulling the boy into an embrace. When he met no resistance, he softly rubbed circles in the kid's back and soothed him. He sat like that for a while, just soothing the boy as he got quieter and quieter until Danny looked down and discovered that the boy was fast asleep.

As much as Danny really didn't want to disturb the kid, they couldn't stay in this alley all night and he had to get home to check on Jason. So he slowly scooped the boy up and stood. Luckily the boy remained undisturbed. Danny let go of the breath he didn't even know he was holding and exited the alleyway, picking up the bag as he did so.

By the time he made it to his apartment building, Danny was actively thanking all of his lucky stars. He had made it back with the kid still sleeping soundly. There had been no more disturbances of the night. He hadn't even run into a single robber! Normally he would have encountered at least 3 by now. But now here he was, faced with his final hurdle. How to get inside and to his apartment?

His keys were in his back pocket. Maybe if he put the bag down and reached into his pocket? No, that would require bending and jostling. Besides, even if that didn't wake the kid, Danny would then have to take the steps since the elevator was broken and he lived on the 5th floor. He couldn't risk it. So then how? Aha, the window.

He often kept the window to his apartment open because it helped ease Jason's clausophobia. Of course Danny was well aware of how dangerous that was considering his apartment was in the middle of a place dubbed "Crime Alley" but thanks to the new and improved Fenton Security System which now recognized his signature and was programmed to target and subdue humans, that wasn't a problem. Danny checked his surroundings before letting gravity fall away from him and floating to his window.

Once his feet touched down on the fire escape he studied his point of entry. He had to do this as quickly and as swiftly as possible. One.... two.... THREE.... and what was he doing!? You have intangibility, idiot! Danny scolded himself. He would have slapped himself if it wasn't for the aforementioned kid he was carrying. In his defense though, Danny had put the lid on most of his ghostly abilities since he had brought Jason home.

He blew out some air as he peered into the living room. He didn't see Jason so hopefully the kid wasn't just sitting somewhere he couldn't see. Danny took a step and seamlessly entered his apartment. No surprised screaming from the kitchenette? Good. Good good good.

Danny made his way deeper inside the living room, placing his package on the TV stand. He then gently laid the boy down on the love seat, taking a step back and holding his breath. When the boy didn't stir, he let the breath go and went over to grab the blanket draped over the couch. Coming back, Danny draped it over the kid before moving on down the hall to Jason's room. He eased the door open and peered inside, catching sight of a form bundled under the covers, a tuft of hair peeking out. Danny waited a beat to make sure he saw the form properly rising and falling before he closed the door and crept back to the living room. Then he curled up in the beat up old couch to be nearby in case the kid woke up in the middle of the night.

Danny sighed as he readjusted around a spring poking out. How had he gone from moving away from all of the craziness of Amity Park to taking in two boys? He really hoped he wasn't getting in over his head.

Next

[myokk]

fast sketch of my one-shot with Ominis💓

legilimency

Word count: 1.700

Rating: M (language)

Ominis Gaunt is a lost case - lost to the whims of one very determined Gryffindor sitting at his side.

They sit in the back of the History of Magic classroom, the only two students not lulled to somnolence by their professor. He: trying his hardest to focus on Professor Binns’ droning (easier said than done). She: trying her hardest to distract Ominis while not being entirely sure of being successful or not (easier attempted than understood).

Professor Binns is completely insufferable, of course. Ominis wonders if the ghost is as blind as he is: Binns willfully ignores the fact that all of his students use his class as an excuse to get a nap in (maybe he simply doesn’t see them sleeping - only one of many reasons why Ominis has decided he could never be a professor), rambling on and on in the most boring way possible. As if he were trying to be as dull as possible (maybe he does it to avoid interacting with the students which…can’t be to blame). In a different life, Ominis could see himself quite liking the subject, but as things stand he despises it.

Especially now.

Ominis fervently wishes that he could fall asleep.

Then, he might avoid hearing her thoughts - they’re consuming him and he can’t ignore them as much as he would like to.

Normally, he loves this class - not the subject, obviously - but the class itself, for the sheer fact that it is the only time where he gets some peace and quiet. Everyone’s minds nice and quiet and shut off for the time being while they sleep. Although he has gotten used to ignoring the thoughts of everyone around him, their various voices mixing and mingling with each other into a dull thrum in the back of his mind, it is nice to have some quiet once in a while.

But right now, with everyone asleep except for the Gryffindor at his side, her thoughts are so loud it’s like she’s screaming at him.

So here he is, wishing he could fall asleep, leave the class, maybe turn off the infernal legilimency that has haunted him his whole life.

(His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

He is stuck listening to her.

It doesn’t help that she seems to have caught on to him - something he had managed to avoid until now. Nobody else, not even Sebastian or Anne, has ever suspected a thing. But, in all fairness, those two are extremely loud and say every single thought that passes through their minds out loud even when they should remain quiet, and nobody else has had the opportunity to spend enough time with Ominis to begin to suspect anything.

Until her.

He had to go and let that blasted girl worm her way into his life, not leaving him alone ever, always looking for excuses to talk and ask his opinion, and being so intelligent that he wanted to invite her to study with him and talk with him and…

Since it happened a few nights ago, he hasn’t stopped cursing himself for that stupid offhand comment he made. They had been studying in silence in the library together, by the history books where nobody else ever ventures (thank you, Professor Binns), and he could have sworn that she asked him if he was finally going to walk her back to her common room (he blames a lack of sleep and wishful thinking for this mishap). His traitorous face had flushed and he had jumped at the chance to escort her - maybe she would let him carry her bag, or… - only to feel his whole body go cold and his stomach drop when her response wasn’t what he’d expected.

A pause: then: a confused voice: ‘Ominis, I didn’t say anything.’

His Gryffindor wasn’t stupid like Gryffindors were normally wont to be. He knew her, and he knew that after his monumental mistake, the gears in her brain were turning and he was terrified that somehow she had figured it out.

(His Gryffindor?)

She had been unusually quiet around him since then, although he bitterly noticed that she was still acting normally with everyone else. Still finding every opportunity to punch Sebastian in the shoulder and laugh with Anne, still whispering with Natsai about Merlin knows what, still…

But she had been avoiding Ominis. He couldn’t stand it.

Well, avoiding him right until this stupid class, when she had to go and sit right next to him (ignoring the fact that she always sits next to him in History of Magic, that everyone already has and adheres to their unofficial seats), and he can’t ignore her.

She’s pretending to take studious notes, but he knows better. The scratching of her quill blending with the droning of Professor Binns’ voice but not drowning out her thoughts. They float above the other noises, her voice sweet and piercing. Ominis wonders vaguely what she’s actually writing, because he’s positive it isn’t notes.

Professor Binns looks so sexy right now with his medieval hat, talking about…whatever it is he’s passionate about. I wonder if he would let me talk to him after class without floating through me like he normally does…

Ominis is determined not to react. She’s obviously trying to bait him. But…what if she is attracted to Professor Binns? Is he an attractive man? At the thought, the fist that’s resting on top of his desk clenches, but he works to make sure his face remains impassive. Apart from a twitch of his lips, he thinks he’s been quite successful.

She: huffing and shifting in her chair, her robes rustling as she crosses her legs. He: keeping his head facing forward, steadfastly ignoring her.

She changes tactics.

Maybe she’s just as insufferable as the other Gryffindors, after all.

I wonder what Ominis would say if he knew I woke up moaning today after a dream about him -

He shifts slightly in his seat, hoping that she’s so busy taking notes (who’s he kidding) that she won’t notice his discomfort as his trousers tighten -

…the girls in my dorm have been bothering me nonstop about who I’ve been mooning over but I don’t want them to…

His hand is in such a tight fist it’s a wonder he’s not breaking any fingers as he tries to remain as still as possible, but his traitorous arousal is making her thoughts harder and harder to ignore. Had he ever been able to ignore her?

…his tongue was deep inside me as I screamed his name…

He feels his face heat up at the thought - where had she learned such vulgar language? - and his whole body stiffens. He’s sure that she can feel the tension and warmth radiating off of him in waves but that…she…his insane little lion keeps shouting at him in the silence of the classroom. She’s now stopped all pretense of taking notes and is sitting stock still.

…his cock deep inside of me as…wait…what else did I hear Garreth say to Leander that night?…um… She shifts uncomfortably, her knee grazing Ominis’s as she moves to squeeze her legs together. It’s all he can do to not groan and remain impassive. Oh god…I…what’s that feeling? This was just supposed to get back at him for probably - maybe - reading my thoughts and I’m officially insane because how would he even be able to do that?…his ears turning red from embarrassment are so adorable and I can’t stand this anymore and…

Ominis tries his hardest not to move his head in her direction. His jaw flexes. Maybe he can drown her out if he starts reciting potions ingredients, or if he focuses on what Professor Binns is saying, but even he knows its futile. He’s hanging on to her every word - thought? - and his head slowly turns in her direction as she keeps going.

…does he know how much I think about him? Oh god, what if he dreams of me the same way I…

He slams the open book in front of him shut, the loud noise causing Sebastian to jerk awake and babble incoherently for a moment before slumping back over his desk, drooling and snoring lightly. Nobody else in the class seems to notice except her of course. Blissfully, she has stopped talking - thinking - and he can finally -

It’s no use. He needs to get out of there. She has invaded his mind and…What if she starts up again with her filthy thoughts that are bleeding into his own and -

Did he hear me? I didn’t actually think…oh god, can he hear me now? What have I done?

Ominis very slowly brings his hand over to where he knows hers is. The quill falls out of her hand and he hears a sharp intake of breath at their contact. His fingers trace her knuckles and then he slowly trails them up her arm. His fingertips are so sensitive that he could swear that he feels every thread that he passes, her skin warm and alive underneath the fabric. Then to her neck, her throat bobs and he feels her erratic heartbeat. Finally, he reaches her face. She remains very, very still as his fingers brush over her features for the first time.

He has never touched someone like this before.

Her skin is like velvet, soft everywhere he touches. Now that he knows what it feels like he’s not sure he can go back to before. His fingers trace the curve of her eyebrows - he finds that her nose is straight before it flares up a tiny bit at the tip - his fingers ghost over her impossibly soft lips. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip as her tongue darts out to wet them. It’s impossibly intimate and the world has melted away and it’s just the two of them in that moment.

He leans forward.

“Ominis, I…” she whispers, stricken.

His hand moves to tuck some of her loose hair away from her face - does she always wear it like this? - and his lips brush against her ear. He inhales deeply, her sweet smell invading his senses. She shivers under his touch and he breathes, “I heard everything.”