#this was supposed to be a fanfiction by now however life got in the way big time

[mishervellous]

Gallavich Week 2023 Day Six (Shakespeare)

@gallavichthings

“And when they're complete, I swear to thee—we shall fly beyond this isle—the corners of the world our mere prologue. I'll seek to make thy happiness so great that e'en the name of liberty's forgot. What sayest thou to my most hopeful wish?”

“Yes.”

inspired by this wonderful life is strange scene and with a special sorryistillhavetofinishwritingthis thank you my accomplice @creepkinginc 💙

[badkitty3000]

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

As always, I am open to requests. Thank you!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

 “Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.   

[atmajolish]

obey me as fanfiction tropes lucifer - meet the family

you don't know why you have never met his family, just that every time the topic comes up he does his best to avoid it. at this point you think he might be the head of a mafia and simply doesn't want to involve you in the 'family business'. it's a surprise when he suddenly invites you to join a dinner with his family and when you go you realise that you got it all wrong. it's not that his family is all serious and involved in the mafia, it's that they are so chaotic it's hard to keep up. even for lucifer.

mammon - bodyguard au

being famous is only fun when your life and privacy isn't threatened by a stalker, hence why your manager decided to get you a bodyguard. you aren't quite sure how mammon is supposed to protect you, considering he seems to be easily distracted and like he hates spending time with you as he seems to think you are just like any other famous person, ready to abandon your morals the moment it suits you. but when he saves your life you're forced to reevaluate your opinion of him. maybe you can make him rethink his opinion on you as well.

leviathan - friends to lovers

you and levi have known each other since forever. you went to the same elementary school and when you saw that levi seemed to like the same cartoon you did, you just had to befriend him! several years down the line you are now in university while levi is making his main income via streaming. it feels hard to connect the same way you used to with how different your lives are these days, but you refuse to give this friendship up. the fact that you might see levi as more than a friend has nothing to do with that.

satan - coffee shop (cat café)

working as a barista in a cat café sounded like a fun way to work in theory. in practice you don't make a lot of coffee, but spend your time cleaning up after the cats. the fact that this guy keeps coming in without ordering anything and just watches the cats for at least an hour before leaving. you're sure it's against the rules, but you don't want to be the one to confront him. you don't get paid for that after all. however, he must have noticed you staring at him because he is coming over and how did you get to the point where he is telling you cat facts?

asmodeus - fake dating

you're unsure how you ended up owing a favour to mammon out of all people, but he's cashing it in right now. apparently his brother has troubles getting rid of an admirer and you're the only possible person who would agree to fake date him and keep shut about it. which is why you and asmo are now sitting in his living room deciding to come up with a way on how you fell in love. it would be so easy if your traitorous heart would just stop fluttering every time he reaches out to hold your hand in public.

beelzebub - soulmate au

sharing the taste with your soulmate sounds good in theory. of course you had to get unlucky with it as your soulmate seems to eat almost constantly and have no limits as to what exactly they eat. you've tasted multiple inedible things and at this point you're concerned for your soulmates health because there are probably repercussions for eating paper. when you see your lab partner trying to eat some of the chemicals you're working with it doesn't take you long to put two and two together. you can't even be mad for all the things you were forced to taste because beel is just cute enough to get away with it.

belphegor - roommates

you are used to your roommate falling asleep in the weirdest spots and it's a miracle he doesn't wake up with severe neck and back pain every day. however when he starts sleeping in your room because 'he likes the company' you need to start rethinking some of your feelings. when you ask him why he doesn't just sleep in his own bed, you only get a sigh and belphie tells you that it's no use sleeping there, because you aren't there. maybe belphie had already figured his feelings out long before you.

diavolo - arranged marriage

being in an arranged marriage was made out to be a lot worse than it actually was. at least in your case. you've known diavolo since you were kids and the both of you had always known it would come to this at one point. still, the thought of possibly ruling a kingdom at his side was a bit daunting. it's when he reassures you that he will handle it and plans out several shenanigans just to distract you from the pressure, that you think maybe you can fall in love with him.

barbatos - time loop

you've been forced to repeat the same day over and over again every time you die and no matter how hard you try, you just can't seem to figure out who your killer is. you're sure it's always the same person and they should be the only who is also aware of the time loop, but detective work has never been your strength. it's when a friend of a friend mentions something you said several time loops ago that cold horror washes over you. you never expected barbatos, the guy you sorta had a crush on to be your murderer.

simeon - elementary school teacher

teachers aren't supposed to have favorite students, but it's hard to not like luke just a bit more than the rest. if only because he's the one that listens to you most of the time. what you don't expect is that his dad is also exactly your type, so you really can't help but stare for a bit when simeon first walks in for the parent-teacher conference. what you also don't expect is simeon giving you his number since luke will move to a different school soon. when you ask what the number is for, he hides a smile before telling you it's his way of asking you out.

solomon - reincarnation

you don't know how often you have died and been reborn again. it's been a lot of times. the thing is, you have the easy part. the dying and the reincarnating. your lover solomon has the hard part as he is unable to die and has to live without you until your soul has come back to earth. your memories fade a little more each time you come back and you don't know how long you will be able to keep remembering him, nor how long he will keep on waiting for you.

mephistoteles - enemies to lovers

there are many things you could say about mephistoteles, however it would always be that you kinda hate him. he's stuck up, rich, and can't look past his own nose. you know he thinks about you just as badly so every single time you two see each other you only exchange glares and maybe a few insults if either of you is in a particular bad mood. it's when you're forced to work together for a project that you are forced to see him in a new light, no matter how much you hate that there is more to him than the image you have in your head.

raphael - secret agents

working with raphael has always been easy. he listens well and he can easily kill and get out without much issue. it's only problematic that he refuses to accept any help whatsoever from you, insisting it's easier if he just does it alone. normally you should be happy about that, it means less work for you, but something about it just irks you. it's when a mission goes south that the two of you finally have a heart to heart and realise that working together might be easier than it seems.

thirteen - hitman/target

there's been a hitman trailing after you for a while now. there have been too many freak accidents near you for them to be just accidents. it's when you enter your apartment and see said hitman casually lounging on your couch, eating your snacks, watching your tv. you definitely didn't think she'd be this pretty. her complaining about how you keep avoiding her traps and take out all of the fun of job, reminds you that she is sent to kill you though. it sure is a surprise when she decides to take her time and instead pose as your roommate for the time being and with every day it gets just a bit harder to distinguish whether she still wants to kill you or there is actually more to your relationship.

[goldkirk]

Hi. This is what you don’t do on a stranger’s fanfiction they share for free online.

I have a few thoughts.

1. Commenter, I can see you’ve got a lot going on. You’ve got strong feelings and a lot of experiences and you’re allowed to have them. You are NOT, however, supposed to be nasty in public about them.

Since you did decide to comment these things anyway, I’m going to address the most critical parts of them.

2. Do not. Use my fics. And my comment section. To be an asshole to your sister.

And consider that anything you’re saying about her or people with autism or Tim you’re saying about me too, as well as anyone who is autistic or relates to Tim in my stories. That’s not cool. Also, I know how much having a family member with neurological or mental health conditions can be stressful or frustrating or even make you angry. But you have to deal with those feelings in a healthy way, not start assigning blame on one or more people and sit there being bitter about it. Have you considered doing anything to make your own experience less miserable for yourself or making things better for your sister so things are better for you too by extension?

3. You don’t seem to have a full understanding of how autism works or how trauma induced disorders work. Please learn more about them before being an asshole to people without a solid platform to stand on.

4. Since you clearly embarked on your read of my story as a quest to find things to be mean to your sister about and make her and others feel bad, and clearly didn’t read or understand how my entire Shutterbug series works, I’ll make it simple for you now—even though the later fics have an ensemble cast, they are still Tim-centric and Tim is the reason I write these stories. Even though Hymn is the story of Damian’s addition to the family, I never said it was Damian-centric or focused on the cast at large as opposed to primarily a continuation of Tim’s journey.

4. If you don’t. Like. A story. Stop. Reading. The story.

5. Please try to get out of the habit of hate reading, hate commenting, and generally being miserable. You’ve still got time to enjoy life and find things you like and live in your own lane without being bothered by other people even if you don’t like their interests or behavior. It’s a much more relaxing and enjoyable way to live. You can totally do it!

6. Stop commenting on my fics. I’m just going to remove the comments and block you if you need to keep adding hate to my comment section. You can choose to say what you want, but if you’re spreading hate in my little establishment, I’m allowed to show you the door.

[mixu]

Hi, hope you are doing well. )

I am curious to know your impressions, anecdotes, experience of being a veteran SNS shipper. How was your experience with Naruto fandom? Has it changed? It would be great if you could talk about it.

Hi! I hope you’re doing well too. I barely receive any asks, so I’m excited.

Ah, my experiences and anecdotes being in the fandom, especially as a SNS shipper (does it count as shipping if they’re canon?) … It’s more than half of my life (I feel like I’m talking to my grandchildren) so this could get long.

I’ve been part of the fandom for 17 years, but it’s just recently that I’ve gotten to interact more with other fans both pro and anti sns. This mainly for three reasons:

Time period

When I entered the fandom internet and social media weren’t what they are today (that’s how old I am). I barely had access to internet for school and quickly read the new manga chapter before having to disconnect.

Location

Younger people don’t realize this but the globalization of manga and anime are quite recent. Now you can find merchandise even at the supermarket and a great catalogue of series is at your disposal with minimal effort. And being an “otaku” in the 2000’s was begging to be bullied at least in my country, so I preferred to keep my interests to myself.

My personality

I’m not the most social of people.

Thus, in the beginning, the fandom was nonexistent to me. It was just me, what Kishi wrote and my thoughts.

Little by little I got to interact with other people who were mainly shônen fans, and never read outside of that demographic, so there was no chance they would recognize a “non-pure shônen” even if it hit them in the face. There was not much to discuss aside from who would beat who, and I wouldn’t have been able to articulate it back then anyway, but my guts knew there was something different about Naruto. More than met the eye.

I next met a different part of the fandom in the form of fanart and fanfiction, but at that time it never crossed my mind that people would cling to those non-canon portrayals with their life. I would say most of these fans are avid consumers from other demographics that got attracted because something (the romance or the potential gayness) caught their eye, but are only interested in how to bend the characters to fit their vision. I know fanfiction and fanart are supposed to be self-indulgent, I enjoy it and write it even, but I’ve mostly managed to separate from the real thing. Not many discussions about the story as a whole (please keep in mind we were all teenagers back then).

So, none of those previous fan groups seemed to understand what I couldn’t put into words, and for the longest time, because my understanding of Naruto and Sasuke’s story was mostly instinctual, I had to go along with it. I let myself be gaslighted into believing my thoughts were just a byproduct of my fujoshi tendencies (I guess it could be right to call me fujoshi, but never due to Naruto).

After a quite long break, not just from Naruto but from manga and anime in general, I came into contact with the more educated part of the fandom in tumblr, and I finally got to put into words what was behind Naruto and Sasuke’s dynamic thanks to all of the great analysis that I found. I got vindicated and felt like I could finally live in peace but it was short lived.

When I met all the crazy antis, oh boy, I understood why ignorance is bliss.

That being said, there are indeed a bunch of obstacles between the fandom and understanding the true significance of Naruto’s story. However, not all of them are due to lack of knowledge when it comes to narrative devices and storytelling tools. I’m far from proficient in that topic and I can confidently say I got it.

Discarding those who will perpetually live in denial due to bigotry, homophobia, lack of an open mind, cultural differences, etc, and after much pondering elicited by this post of yours, I’ve come to the conclusion that the shônen label holds way more power than I originally thought. Or better say, all that shônen represents functions as the most effective reality filter.

Because Naruto was labeled as shônen:

The dudebros who only care about the power escalation won’t understand even if they are not homophobic because they came for the blattles and cool powers, nothing else matters.

The lost shôjo readers who force nh and ss into focus and think they can bend the “romance” to cater to their taste because a shonen writer would drop the ball with something as delicate. “Let Kishimoto draw his battles, we will fix the deficient love story because we know how true romance it’s supposed to look like. We wouldn’t be interfering with the hero’s story, anyway.”

All the while ignoring they are dragging a bunch of toxic tropes with them. They don’t see their pairings as failures because shôjo also has its good share of toxicity and abuse.

The fujoshi and fundashi who despite coming after the gayness, still miss the point because they do not care about the story so long as two hot men are kissing or fucking or whatever. They don’t actually believe in sns because most of their pairings are ships for fun, anything can be shipped, (pencil-senpai and sharpener-kun) so they see Naruto as a love story only under their terms but never in canon.

Then we have people that read a wider range but fail to look at the story as anything else than one written for male teenagers. Got shôjo for romance seinen and josei for more maturity, so shônen is meant for an easy quick snack.

Some of my friends, that I consider very intelligent people, way more versed in storytelling and narrative and whatnot than me, who are definitely not bigots or homophobic, still miss the point because they weren’t looking for it. They realized only after I pointed it out (I even made a ppt presentation, but that’s another story).

As for the people who understand from the beginning:

There’s of course those with the knowledge to dissect the story, and who can consciously ignore the restrictions of the labels.

Yet another group (I consider myself part of this one) that manage to bypass the rules only guided by instinct, but kept second-guessing themselves until they met someone from the previous group.

Then there’s my mother, bless her, who watches anime and loves her romances, but knows shit about manga demographics and wonders how the fuck Naruto and Sasuke gave birth to Boruto because in her eyes that little piece of shit has to be their son.

So once again, it all comes back to Kishimoto and his decision sell his soul to Jump. Was it all for fame or money? Was he too hopeful and naïve? Was it all a cruel prank?

What happened to mangakas like Tezuka? That man knew no limits.

That’s it for my thoughts on and interactions with the fandom. I think I leave my evolution as a sns stan for later if you’re interested in it.

[puzzleemerald]

Please don't reblog!

I had to compress/scale down this beautiful piece so much in Clip Studio to make it fit Tumblr's 20 MB demands, hnnnnnng—

Coughs in complete absolute professionalism

The first of my OCs have officially had their links posted on my pinned Master Post! This is one of them: my beautiful, beloved, and tragic Inuyasha OC Amaterasu. This is a piece of art I commissioned earlier in 2023 from the lovely ItsNattie, from whom I've been commissioning art of many kinds for over a decade now! It's a massive poster-esque piece for Amaterasu's FanFic I've been slowly working on (it's one of uh... many... I have a draftaholic problem), and, if you hadn't guessed, she's a Sesshōmaru pairing!

That said, I consider an OC's FanFic version and their RP versions to be entirely separate for the sake of exploring ✨ infinite possibilities! ✨ So, while Amaterasu is paired with Sesshōmaru in her FanFiction, that doesn't mean I'll only allow Sesshōmaru RPers to exclusively pair with her romantically. I like to leave that up to vibes. If I feel like she's got chemistry with someone, you bet your zeros and ones I'm gonna ship it!

With that out of the way, allow me a moment to wax poetic about the weight and meaning behind this gorgeous piece of art to end the post.

Ahem.

TW: Death

Amaterasu is a character who, in essence, is supposed to be the sun goddess herself—the name isn't just for show. However, through the circumstances of her story, she's been sealed in a mortal body, and much of her power is diminished throughout the series. Like everyone else, she's out for Naraku's head. However, she ends up encountering Sesshōmaru. At first, they seem as if they'll kill each other. The reason is pretty straightforward. Sesshōmaru is an Inu Daiyōkai and the Lord of the West while Amaterasu is the Head Kami and Ruler of Takamagahara. Their very existences challenge each other and, by nature, they feel an instinctive loathing of the other.

However, due to their equally calm dispositions, instead of a fight, they have an interogation a conversation instead. Sesshōmaru questions who she is, and Amaterasu does the same. Jaken gives a fussy introduction on his Lord's behalf, and Amaterasu gives her name... before promptly telling them both to turn around so she can get out of the spring she was bathing in when Sesshōmaru sniffed out her divine aura.

They end up having several more encounters with each other, but Amaterasu has far more interactions with Inuyasha's party initially. At least until Rin comes into the picture. Then, she travels strictly with Sesshōmaru under the pretense of protecting Rin from him. Over time, the two become more tolerant of one another until they start checking over their shoulder to ensure the other is still there, using each other as a leaning post at night or entrusting the other with safeguarding Rin, Jaken, and A-Un when the other leaves for one reason or another. It borders that fine line of respect and affection; Sesshōmaru is aloof and apathetic, while Amaterasu unabashedly loves life and is compassionate. She learns through him that not all yōkai are out to kill humanity, and he finds a new warmth in life with her presence. Like winter in the face of spring, they need each other to complete a cycle or, in this case, each other. By "The Final Act," they are pressing their palms together to be sure the other is okay, staring each other in the eyes and covering each other in a fight.

However, I call Amaterasu a tragic OC for a reason. In the end, once Naraku is slain, Amaterasu's seal is undone, and her mortal body slowly breaks down. Without the seal, her power returns to her in total, and its too immense to be contained in such a shell. A kami of her magnitude cannot sustain a shape on the mortal plane. With what few hours they have left, she asks to return to the place they first met—the spring surrounded by sakura trees—which Sesshōmaru indulges. Flying her there in his arms with Rin and Jaken riding his mokomoko-sama. There, she has her farewells to each of them, praising Jaken's loyalty and courage despite his stature and weakness, telling Rin that she will watch her as she becomes a lady with the utmost warmth and character, and telling Sesshōmaru that he has changed her. That she can never be the same person she was before, but she wishes that she could, if only to relive it all. Because it was the happiest time of her life.

Under the shining sunrise, Amaterasu promises that, so long as their feelings remain unchanging, she will find a way to meet him there again. Every time he feels the sun's light and traces its beams, it will be her smiling and touching his hand, praying for him to live.

Finally, as her body crumbles into glowing flowers, they share a first and last kiss... until all that's touching his lips are cherry blossoms that fall through his arms to the ground of the clearing... blooming wildly with flowers and other foliage and surrounded by onlooking wildlife.

Thus, the feudal fairy tale of two tragic loves from completely opposite realms of existence concludes in the only way it ever could.

[meduarts]

Managing Life (Part 1/?)

Summary: Marinette has been Audrey Bourgeois' secretary ever since she voiced out her dream of having her own business. Audrey thinks that she should learn more about the nooks and crannies of running a fashion business. However, fate has other plans for her, and honestly, what can our resident guardian could do to counter fate?

Disclaimer: I do not own MLB or DCU. A/N: It has been quite a while since I write fanfiction. I hope this is good enough for now!

Taglist: @timinette-is-best, @peach-blueberry-pie, @tinybrie, @taewinterbear95, @its-maemain, @flyhighdreamer, @kokoroluna (Tell me if you want to be a part of the taglist!)

<Next Chapter>

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"Mme Bourgeois, I have booked the flight to Gotham and arranged your stay at their best suite in Wayne Hotel for 7 days in Gotham during the Gala week."

Marinette reported her progress with polite professionalism like she always uses during this private meeting with her boss, Audrey Bourgeois the CEO of Style Queen. It has been over 5 years since the fall of Hawkmoth and the ex-Parisian hero had hung up her superhero costume and continued her life as usual.

Sure it took some trips to therapy sessions and many breakdowns after that fateful encounter, but like always our hero picked herself back up, brushed the dust, and took another step toward the future. The year when Hawkmoth was defeated was her last year at Dupont. It was a somewhat bittersweet graduation present if she was being honest. When she graduated from Dupont, she did so without even mending her relationship with her classmates.

She left Dupont without looking back, her classmate decided that the girl who can weave words so sweet is a better gem than Marinette and Marinette gave them her answer by letting them go.

After that, she went to IFA and graduated early with honors. While going to fashion school, Chloe successfully roped her to have an internship under the Style Queen. Which landed her a permanent secretary position and is working under Audrey as an apprentice as of today.

"Magnifique! I can always count on you Marinette! Did you make sure that your own accommodation is planned perfectly as well?"

"Naturally, Mme Bourgeois."

Audrey nodded, pleased at how competent Marinette is. "Excellent news, darling. Do you have your dress ready?"

Marinette went quiet and averted her gaze from her boss. Audrey frowned at her changed behavior and sighed heavily. "You do know that you are coming with me, right Marinette?"

Marinette kept quiet.

"Marinette," Audrey called with a pointed tone. Her apprentice fidgets one of her tics when she got found out doing something she wasn't supposed to do.

"Marinette, you know what this Gala meant, yes?"

"A Charity gala, Madame?"

Audrey laughed her signature condescending laugh and waved her gloved hand. "Cease your joking, Marinette! It is a chance for you to spread your wings! Make more connections! You understand why I'll take you with me, non?"

"To make sure your dress stays perfect, Madame?" Marinette snarked playfully.

"Hmm, that is true, yes. But! Aside from that, I want to brag you of course!"

Marinette tilted her head in confusion. Her lips formed a cute pout as her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Brag me, Madame?"

Audrey raised from her leather seat and walked towards the window behind her white marbled desk. "Yes! Marinette, you are an amazing aspiring designer, an amazing secretary and I have nothing to teach you any more about fashion because you soaked it all up like a sponge."

Marinette stayed quiet during her boss' tirade, though her mind began to swirl in a whirlwind of mess. What did she mean she didn't have anything to teach her anymore? She still has a long way to go! It's not her time to spread her wings! She was sure she'll plummet when the first problem occurs in her business! Not to mention, she knew that her design isn't up to par yet to other professional designers for her to build a business.

Sure she has celebrity clients here and there and whenever she opens out her website for the commission the list would be full in no time. However, comparing herself with Style Queen or even the now-dead Agreste Brand, she still has a long way to go.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng cease those self-deprecating thoughts that I know you're thinking right now! Honestly! I have raised you to have self-confidence but it seems that your biggest enemy is yourself!"

Tell me about it, Marinette scoffed internally but stopped her train of thought nonetheless. The young woman raised her head and look at her boss with a pensive look and Audrey gave her a rare soft smile.

"Marinette, you are a great designer, your business though it is small, will grow quickly. I have nothing more to teach you, it's time for you to find a new mentor. Spread your wings, embark new horizon, non?" Audrey spread her hands as a grand gesture, she then winked at Marinette to add a little bit of effect. "Think about it."

"Understood, Mme Bourgeois." Giggled Marinette merrily. Audrey chuckled and clapped her hands. "I'll inform you of my decision, tomorrow morning."

Audrey claps her hand with a victorious smile, "Magnifique! Now! I require-"

"Your special brew coffee and your sweet snacks for the break and the latest fashion magazine as well as your mani-pedis private appointment," Marinette replied immediately with a sardonic smile. Her boss smirked and winked at her and Marinette excused herself from the office.

Once the huge doors of the office closed she let her shoulder slump and exhaled heavily. Her heart was heavy at the thought of leaving Style Queen, she loves her job, though it isn't actually a full-time designing job, she made a good amount of money and the working hours didn't clash with her time to finish her client's commission, so all in all a win-win situation.

However, deep down she knew that Audrey was right, she had hit a point where she could grow no further here. Her design flourished through the years and more celebrities approached her privately to purchase her designs, but honestly, she doesn't know what to do next. Audrey had told her in order to build a big fashion business she would need a mentor that dabbled in a business empire and sadly enough though her network is vast none of them are from a flourishing business empire.

Marinette reached her personal desk and slumped on her seat while massaging her temple. She could feel a prod from her breast pocket and looked down to see her faithful friend peering up at her with their big eyes. Marinette gave Tikki an encouraging small smile.

"It's alright, Tikki, I'll manage." She whispered quietly at her. Even though this particular floor is only inhabited by her office and the big boss, she could never be too safe.

"I know, Marinette. I just figured you need a pat, that's all." Tikki giggled sweetly at her chosen.

"Thank you, Tikki. It definitely gave me a boost." She chuckled and tickled Tikki's soft head with her finger. She took a deep breath and decided to shelve the thought about her growing business aside, she had work to do. She popped her knuckles and straightened her back.

First thing first, the mani-pedis private appointment.

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Marinette finished her work a little later than the normal 5 o'clock, there's a lot of work to be done as the Style Queen's assistant. But she didn't complain, it made her busy so she doesn't have to wallow in depression and anxiety that had always waited for her in the corner.

She gathered her things meticulously, made sure that Tikki is safely tucked in her bucket bag that she had made herself, and left the building to go home. Her penthouse wasn't far from where she worked, so it had been a pleasant quiet walk home.

Once she arrived home she let Tikki out of her bag and went to a room that she named, 'The Kwami Abode'. It was one of the more spacious rooms with a large window facing the Eiffel tower, in the middle of the room stood a glowing tree, the whole tree branches and trunk were white with shimmering iridescent purple and blue, and the leaves were crystal it formed a dome covering the egg-shaped Miracle box on the top of the tree trunk, hanging by the branches were different color pods there were 19 in total for all the Kwamis and each pod was decorated for their personal preference.

The room was painted a soft lilac color and it has layers upon layers of protective magic. Once Marinette had bought herself a place to live using her own commission money and her pay as Style Queen's secretary, she made sure to reserve a room for the Kwamis. She doesn't want them to be cooped up in the Miracle Box, so using her magic she created the trees and pods so that the Kwami could lounge around in peace.

Tikki was delighted that her chosen held such great magic and the other Kwamis were equally delighted that their guardian is thoughtful enough to build them a proper place to stay in.

Marinette smiles as Tikki gave her a small kiss on her cheek and flew to her pod, from one of the pods Pollen flew out and let out an excited squeal.

"The Grand Guardian Is Back!!!" The Bee kwami immediately zoomed toward Marinette and gave her cheek a hug.

Hearing Pollen's excited squeal the other kwamis namely, Trixx, Barkk, and Duusu flew out from their respective pods and swarmed Marinette with hugs of their own. The young Guardian smiled warmly at their excited greetings and left the Kwami Abode to start on dinner.

While making the Kwami's dinner, she was lost in thought again about her future. So lost that she almost chopped her fingers but thankfully Plagg stopped her by nudging her palm with his head. Marinette blinked a few times and her eyes locked at Plagg's electric green. The Black Cat God gave her a look.

"What's going on in your head, kitten?"

Marinette set aside the knife she was holding and let out a deep sigh, "It's nothing, Plagg. I'm just being ridiculous."

"Utterly ridiculous?" Plagg snarked with a shit-eating grin.

Marinette scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious though, pigtails, what's going on? You wanna have a therapy session with your favorite kwami again?"

"Oh come on, Plagg. I haven't been wearing pigtails in years! You've gotta find a more creative nickname than that. You're losing your touch. Also, my favorite Kwami happens to be Wayzz." She winked as Plagg gave a betrayed gasp.

"How dare you, pigtails! I raised you from when you were just a lovesick kitten! Taught you everything you know about mischief and chaos! And this is how you pay me??? Betrayal?? Favoritism???" He wailed dramatically.

Marinette laughed out loud, holding the kitchen counter so she wouldn't fall. Plagg grinned as he watched his precious kitten laugh freely, it doesn't happen too often, not nowadays at least. Marinette had closed herself off from any potential friendship because of the trauma she had from her former classmate. Her only friends, namely Kagami, Luka, and Chloe, didn't see each other as often as they'd like. But they tried at least.

"Anyways, don't try changing the subject, kitten. What's wrong?" Plagg asked again. Marinette stopped her laugh and smiled weakly at Plagg.

"I'm not getting out of this conversation, am I?"

"Nope, kitty cat! C'mon, y'know you can confide your worries to dear old Plagg!"

Marinette snorts and rolled her eyes before huffing silently. "It's about my future. Audrey told me that I might need to find another mentor since she doesn't have anything to teach me anymore. It's a great opportunity but I'm content with what I have!"

Plagg hummed and floats closer to Marinette. "You're scared of change, aren't you?"

Marinette holds her shoulder and hunched forward while biting her lips anxiously. "Maybe...Okay... Yeah, I'm scared. It's just... I think she wants me to leave France and I'm just..."

"Not ready?"

The former ladybug nodded meekly at that. Plagg reached out to touch her cheeks. "Listen to me, Bugs. I know how scary it is to get out of your comfort zone, but I can feel you restless. You are a true Holder, A True Soul even! I can tell that your creative soul is dying to leave this place. Paris is safe now, it has been safe for 5 years, and you made sure of that. The people had their time to move on forward. But you? This might be your chance to do so."

"But what about, you guys?"

"What? You think we're going to hate leaving Paris? Kitten, you are the Great Grand Guardian of the Miraculous. Where you go we follow. Besides, I think I speak for all of my siblings that we just want you to be happy."

"Plagg is right my Queen! You made sure we live in comfort and we also want the same for you!"

"You've done so much for us and it's time for you to be a little selfish, who knows maybe you'll meet the love of your life out there!" Duusu exclaimed excitedly.

"Besides, your power has improved greatly, Grand Guardian. I think making another 'Kwami's Abode' in your new residence wherever you will be would be an easy task. We believe in you." Wayzz added as he joined the conversation.

Marinette felt tears prickling from her eyes, she sniffed and looked up at the Kwamis around her. "Thank you. Thank you so much." She whispered.

Her heart settled for the first time in a few years, no lingering anxiety as her decision was made. Perhaps, the Wayne Gala would lead her to a better life, a new exciting adventure, a place where she could finally call home.

"Well, it looks like we're all going to take a trip to Gotham."

TBC

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[konfuchsius]

Visions and Dreams

Chapter 1 out of 2 for my Fanfiction as part of the @dcmkgenbigbang2023. It was a long way but now we are here. :D Big thanks to @fure-dcmk for creating the art for this and beeing my Heiji-speak-translator ;). An equally big thanks goes to @hilplusterrorss for being my beta.

Teaser Heiji hadn't slept for days and it was showing. Dark circles ran below his eyes, his hair was all shaggy as he often ran his fingers through it. Even his fingers seemed to quiver occasionally when he held his pen. But no matter how many times Kazuha asked him about it, he only mumbled something about a nightmare and otherwise kept quiet about it. When the recess bell announced the end of school, she finally couldn't take it anymore.

wordcount: 5508

Chapter One

Heiji pulled off the side of the patch a bit to peek underneath and look at the fresh wound on his stomach. It would surely scar over, reminding him forever of Sakata's betrayal and how he had exposed him far too late.

Sakata of all people. Heiji still couldn't believe it. He had used him, put him on the wrong track, and murdered all those people behind his back.

It just didn't fit the image he has always had of him. The quiet, helpful Sakata who had been doing him little favors with a smile on his lips for as long as he could remember. Just like Otaki, he had known him forever, never suspecting that Sakata was pursuing such a sinister plan from the beginning. Would Kudo have noticed? If he had known him as long as he had?

"What are ya doin'?" An all too familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Kazuha was standing in the doorway, looking at him reproachfully. "Yere supposed ta leave the bandage alone. Ya just had a recent operation."

Heiji demonstratively rolled his eyes, but pressed the bandage back in place and pulled his hospital gown over it. Maybe it really hadn't been a good idea to pull it off, but he needed to see it: The memorial he would now carry with him forever. The memorial for the fact that he had trusted Sakata.

Behind Kazuha, Ran as well as Shinichi and Kogoro entered the room to check on their friend. They all looked so serious and gloomy that Heiji couldn't help but try to lighten the situation a bit. 

"Ya acting like it's a funeral, lighten up!", he joked. However, this attempt seemed to achieve the opposite.

"That's exactly what ya almost roped yerself into!" Kazuha admonished him with a scowl. "Ya just faced Sakata alone like that! And ya gave away yer lucky charm too!" There almost seemed to be more reproach in her voice for the latter.

"The lucky charm saved Conan's life, otherwise he would be the one lying here now," Heiji interjected. "And I'm fine, so what’s yer problem anyway?"

"What’s my problem?"

Oh dear, wrong question.

"What’s my problem?!" Kazuha became noticeably louder and furrowed her eyebrows in anger. "We're visitin' a guy who got a bullet plucked outta his guts and ya asking what's my problem?! Ya even worried us by actin like yer dyin' on the way here!" She probably would never let him live that down.

"I was just tryin' to sleep!" It wasn’t his fault that she went ahead and assumed something morbid. "Ya've already paid me back, so isn’t that enough?" he asked annoyed.

Kazuha's lips narrowed and she continued to give him a death glare, but other than that, she actually let the subject drop.  He wondered if she had noticed from his tone how serious he was, so she postponed this discussion. Or maybe she just understood how he was feeling right now, after all, she had known Sakata too. She had been friends with him as well. 

But before he could think about it further, Ran and Conan engaged him in a conversation, in which he reiterated that he was fine and that he would be out of here by tomorrow. Otaki also checked on him. Only his parents didn't show up, even by the end of visiting hours. It didn't really surprise him, yet it caused a slight twinge in his stomach area. But perhaps this also came from the wound.

When Heiji was alone in the room again, he let himself sink back into his pillow with a sigh and thought about what had happened. His fingers touched the talisman, which he now wore safely around his neck again. It was crazy that this little thing had saved Kudo. Then the knife had to be right- Heiji tapped his finger against his chest where he suspected the knife tip to have been and froze slightly. Just like in his dream. At this spot, the blood had oozed out from under Kudo's T-shirt, he was sure of it.

It was kind of creepy, as if this dream had warned him. In the end, however, it could only have been a coincidence. A happy coincidence.

Although, of course, Kudo would never have been in danger either if Heiji hadn't invited him to Osaka because of that dream. So if it had been a prophecy, it was a self-fulfilling one.

That he even thought of such a thing. Kazuha's talk of fate and supernatural powers must have rubbed off on him. Foreseeing the future, such a thing was humbug, which really only someone as gullible as Kazuha could believe.

Instead of continuing to rack his brains unnecessarily, he lowered his hand again and closed his eyes to finally get some sleep. The day had been exhausting enough and the nag had not let him sleep in the ambulance.

o0o

Heiji stood at a tram stop and waited. He didn't know what exactly he was waiting for. While the cars passed him by and he felt the vibration of the nearby subway under his feet, an older man approached him. He was about in his mid-forties and caught Heiji's eye because his gaze seemed to be fixed on him. Heiji sensed this, even though the man had his brown peaked cap pulled down low on his face. He seemed to be saying something, at least his lips were moving, but no sound came out of his mouth. Leaning further forward to better understand him, Heiji suddenly saw horror form on the man's face. A loud bang, and blood splashed towards Heiji. He frantically wiped it from his eyes, blinked several times, and stared at a hole emblazoned in the man's forehead. Before Heiji could react any further, he snapped out of his sleep.

Damn, what was that?! His pulse raced, even though his head had long since realized that this had only been a dream. It had just felt so damn real. Just like it had with Kudo.

He pressed a hand over his heart and took deep, long breaths to bring his body back under control. The fact that he had to dream about something like that, surely it was because of what had happened with Sakata yesterday. It had probably taken more out of him than he thought, or would ever admit.

A shot to the head, Sakata almost ended it that way.  Heiji ran his fingers through his hair and tried to divert his thoughts to something else. There was no point in brooding over the past, so instead he reached for his cell phone, which lay on the nightstand next to him and was already blinking diligently.

There was a message from his mother - so she had heard that he had been shot after all - one from Ran, who wished him a speedy recovery, and the last one was from Kazuha:

  >>When ya get discharged today, we'll celebrate it with a round of okonomiyaki<<

There ya go, if anything could take his mind off things, it was a good meal!

o0o

Heiji and Kazuha were on their way to their favorite restaurant. The traffic light at the intersection in front of them turned green. As the crowds began to move from both sides, Heiji noticed something brown flashing between their heads. A cap that reminded him of the old man from his dream. After crossing the street, he stopped on the other side and looked around for the wearer, but the brief glimpse he still caught of them was from their backside. He had not been able to make out the face, but the stature had seemed masculine.

"Are ya comin'?", Kazuha's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He took another quick glance back, hoping to see the man again, then shook his head free of those thoughts and continued walking.

"Comin'." This was mere coincidence. It could only be one.

o0o

It felt good to sit and laugh with Kazuha. To take his mind off the dream and Sakata for a bit. He had even almost forgotten about the old man when they stepped out of the little store back onto the street and heard police sirens in the distance. Heiji's stomach tightened instantly. He had a hunch as to why the police were on the scene, and no matter how ridiculous it was and only based on his gut feeling, he couldn't shake that thought. He had to go and see.

Without another word at Kazuha, he ran off, turned around several corners and finally stopped breathlessly in front of a crowd that had formed around a train station. The horrified whispering of the people told him what had happened before he could see it himself. His stomach had been prepared to contract as Heiji fought his way forward through the crowd, but he didn't have to. The scene that presented itself to him was gruesome and anything but appetizing, but the victim was unknown to him and he had not been shot. It was not the man from his dream and now Heiji noticed how a burden fell from him at this realization. For a moment he really believed that he had foreseen the future.

The murder turned out to be a simple accident. The man had fallen drunk on the tracks and so there was nothing for Heiji to do. Probably he had never been so relieved about it.

Thus, Heiji returned to Kazuha and they took the train home together.

"Yere unusually happy fer a detective that didn't get a case to solve....” Kazuha remarked. Normally Heiji would be sulking about something like that but he just waved it off.

"Now why did'ja have to word it like that. It's not I like I enjoy seein' people murdered. Besides, I`m not in the mood fer a case." He grinned at Kazuha. "I'd much rather watch a movie with ya."

Kazuha looked at him in surprise. He loved it when he could rattle her like that. Regaining her composure quickly, she demanded, "But none of your horror flicks."

"Oh, why not?" Heiji laughed at the sour look she gave him. "It'll be fun, I'm tellin' ya! I got a knack for predicting the ending fer this stuff," he joked. However, the grin slipped from his face as the train stopped at the next station and a familiar face stared at him in horror through the glass. Heiji saw his lips move in slow motion, then a loud bang sounded and he fell to the ground. The man in the brown cap was dead.

It had taken him a moment to process this. A moment too long for anyone to not have noticed. It had been a long time since he’d felt such horror because of a corpse, now he stared at it as if he had seen a ghost. He had been able to dismiss the Kudo incident as a coincidence, but he had not known this man. Sure, he could have caught his face sometime in passing and his brain processed it in a dream, but that this very man then died at a train station by a bullet in the head. That he formed the same sounds with his lips. That he wore the same clothes and the same expression of horror before. No, here the coincidence ended. He had really foreseen the future. He had done something impossible.

"Did ya know him?", Otaki asked his young friend. Heiji hadn't heard him coming and was accordingly startled, but this finally allowed him to snap out of it. He almost said yes, but pulled himself together and shook his head.

"No." His teeth gritted with tension. What on earth did that mean?

o0o

There was no movie with Kazuha that evening after all. Heiji had to think, but it all seemed to make no sense. He had never known the victim or the perpetrator or been able to find any other connection to them. So why had he had this dream? - This vision, even though he still resisted calling it that. Was he supposed to save the man? But how? It gnawed at him as if a thousand little rats were biting in.

The talisman had protected Kudo, but he could hardly hand it to a stranger. Besides, he didn't believe that the lucky charm Kazuha had made really had any powers. Even if he himself apparently had something like that.

In the end, this is just a crazy long dream, Heiji thought. He was just dreaming about all this, that's how it had to be. A crazy long dream, but when would he wake up? To be on the safe side, he should probably still assume that this was reality. He sat down on his bed and typed the word "psychic" into the search engine on his phone. Even though every one of his detective instincts told him it was humbug, he couldn't ignore these two incidents. If there really was such a thing as clairvoyance, there had to be something about it on the Internet. His finger hovered over the enter key to confirm his search, then he deleted the term. Even if he found something that looked halfway serious, he wouldn’t be able to tell if it was real. It would get him nowhere. So the only thing left for him to do was to make his own observations, should he have another dream - and he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Apparently the gods did not think much of his wish, because not even one day later, the next vision haunted him. This time it was a woman he saw dying. She sank to the bottom of a body of water with her arms and legs bound, and although she could hardly move, she did not give up without a fight. Heiji's stomach turned at the thought of the brackish water filling his lungs as well and gradually suffocating. A cruel death. He reached out for the woman, but could not touch her. It was in vain, as was trying to recognize anything of the surroundings. Heiji already knew that he could not save this woman. She could drown anywhere in Japan and he didn't even know when. Even if he could convince his father that he somehow knew about this impending murder, he lacked any clue to prevent it. But there had to be something he was missing. There had to be a way, otherwise why was he having these visions? There had to be.

When he finally woke up, his clothes and skin felt wet. He must have been sweating, but after that dream it felt like he had emerged from the water. As if he had also been drowning for a short time. If this continued, he was going to go crazy.

This time, he didn't hesitate before hitting the enter button on his phone. Somewhere there had to be trustworthy information about why he was having these dreams. If he really saw the future, then he couldn't be the only one in the world capable of doing so.

o0o

He was alone in this, or at least there was no one on the World Wide Web who was bragging about his abilities and seemed serious. After the visions became more frequent, Heiji had even made a post of his own in an anonymous forum, but so far only trolls and know-it-alls had responded. He did not even know what he really hoped for. Answers to the why and how. Then he could possibly control the visions and really help the people he saw dying. Except for Kudo, he had not been able to save anyone. He had tried, but there were no files on crimes that hadn't happened yet, and Otaki wasn't much help either, since he was only called in when there was already a dead body. It was enough to drive him up the wall, and with every night the fear grew that he would see a familiar face in his dreams again. Someone who was close to him and whom he could not save just like all the others. (Wasn't it then somehow his fault if they died?) Some nights he preferred not to sleep at all, but even this could not prevent his worst fear from coming true.

The cool evening air was permeated with the smell of iron. Heiji breathed it in, and though each puff slit his throat, his breathing was far too rapid. His eyes were locked on the scene before him, unable to break away from the sight. It was his parents lying there. His mother was lying on her back, her kimono soaked with blood. His father had fallen belly-down on her arm, facing her when it happened. A hole was emblazoned in both of their skulls. Heiji wanted to look away from this cruel picture, but he forced himself to study everything carefully and to memorize it. He had to stop this, at all costs. His father seemed to have another injury, judging by the pool of blood under his belly, but as he lay on top of it, Heiji couldn't see anything else. The surrounding area, he had to think of where it would happen.

He was apparently in a small shopping alley, but although he knew Osaka like the back of his hand, nothing looked familiar. There was a street sign further back, only the writing was too indistinct to read. He was probably standing too far away, but he couldn't move, his feet were stuck to the ground. A glance at his wristwatch at least told him what time it was: half past one and, judging by the lack of daylight, the middle of the night.

Rising from his sleep, he didn't hesitate long and grabbed a pen and sheet of paper. He wrote down everything he had seen and sketched the alley as best he could with his shaking hands. His parents wouldn't die, he wouldn't let that happen.

Over my dead body.

He wouldn't be able to sleep the rest of the night anyway, so he used the time to sneak into his father's office. The key was in his jacket pocket, with the toothed bit facing up. He had to put it back the same way afterwards, or his father would kill him for it. But their lives were at stake, after all, so Heiji took the risk. The cause of death was clean shots to the head, so it had to be a planned murder. Maybe his father was working on a particularly dangerous case, in which case he would find clues to it in his files. Except that was quite a pile. Heiji broke into a sweat just looking at the piles of paper on his father's desk. Better he worked fast.

o0o

The night passed and Heiji was not a bit smarter. Potentially any of these criminals could hold a grudge against his father, and on top of that, there were a bunch of people who had already been in prison and wanted revenge for it. He was kind of hoping for something bigger. An investigation against the yakuza or a drug ring. Anything that would have gotten him ahead so he could focus on those people.

Half past five, he gave up, knowing his parents would be up soon. Heiji sorted the papers and files back together and placed them in their original places as best he could. It was a little more difficult because his hands were still shaking. Then he pushed the office chair back to the table and locked the door. After the key was also back in the jacket pocket, he slipped upstairs as quietly as possible, skipped over the floorboards that creaked and disappeared into his room. There he waited until he heard the all-too-familiar clanging from the kitchen. His mother was making breakfast.

He waited a few more minutes, pretended he had just woken up and came down the stairs.

" Oh, yer awake already?" his mother asked him in surprise as he stepped into the kitchen. Usually, he didn't get up until after his father had already left for work.

"I couldn't sleep somehow," Heiji said casually. He squinted a little at his father, who was at the table with a newspaper, eyeing him as well. How on earth was he going to start this conversation? Heiji pushed back a chair and sat down, then kneaded his hands nervously. "Ya guys...aren't planning on goin' out late anytime soon, by any chance?" he finally just asked freely. Seemed weird, but whatever.

His parents looked at him strangely, as expected, but it was only Shizuka who answered, "No, what makes ya think that? Yer not plannin' anything improper, are ya?”

Heiji shook his head vigorously. "No, nonsense. I just thought ya guys hadn't done that in a while." Well, that's some bad luck. If they had said yes, he could have just stopped them from going. As it was, he still had nothing in hand and the clock was ticking while he didn't even know how fast. Between the dream of Kudo and the actual occurrence of the vision had been several days, between that of the man and his death only about half a day. What if the time was getting shorter and shorter?

o0o

A week had passed since Heiji had had this vision. What if this attack would happen only after several weeks or months? By then, he would surely have forgotten all his caution. It would happen suddenly, so that he could not prevent it.

This horror did not let him sleep at night. He couldn't concentrate at school either, and certainly not during kendo training. So the coach sent him home early and Heiji used this time to investigate further. He walked the alleys of Osaka, every single one, no matter how long it would take. He had to find this place sometime.

And what if it didn't happen in Osaka?, it crossed his mind. What if it happened out of town? He would never find the place. Frustrated, Heiji settled back against a wall and ran his fingers through his hair. Could he really do nothing? But then what were these visions good for? Were they just there to torment him? Had he angered some god? He just didn't know what to do anymore.

o0o

Heiji hadn't slept for days and it was showing. Dark circles ran below his eyes, his hair was all shaggy as he often ran his fingers through it. Even his fingers seemed to quiver occasionally when he held his pen. But no matter how many times Kazuha asked him about it, he only mumbled something about a nightmare and otherwise kept quiet about it. When the recess bell announced the end of school, she finally couldn't take it anymore.

"I can tell yer hiding somethin', ya moron! " she confronted Heiji on the way home. "Did somethin' happen? Is it because of a case?" When he still didn't respond, she continued, "Is anyone in danger?" At the last word, Heiji flinched almost imperceptibly. Still, he denied it.

"It's nothin'. Just leave me alone." Kazuha narrowed her eyes scrutinizingly and stepped into his way.

"Either ya tell me what's going on now, or I'm gonna ask your parents."

"Are ya crazy?!" Heiji reacted quite annoyed, but still didn't dare to just push her out of the way, and when he tried to avoid her, she just kept running with him. Finally, he stopped and scowled at her. "Kazuha, Let. Me. Through."

"I'm just worried about ya!" she exclaimed. Why did he have to be such a stubborn jerk and keep it all bottled up? What were they friends for if he didn't want to be helped?

"Well, ya don't have to."

"'Course I do need to. After all, I'm practically yer big sister." When Heiji sighed at those words, she followed up, "And we're friends. Best friends." More than that, basically, at least to her. "The kind that let each other know what's troubling yer head so badly that ya carryin' an entire Mariana Trench under those eyes."

At first Heiji seemed like he was going to push past her now, but then he grabbed his forehead and shook his head slightly. "Ya wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Why wouldn't I believe ya?" She raised an eyebrow questioningly, in that way that only she could, so that it looked like a question and a threat at the same time. At that, Heiji's gaze fell on the lucky charm dangling from the cell phone in her back pocket.

"... Maybe ya would actually believe me."

o0o

Heiji didn't explain it to her directly, here on the open road. Instead, he took her home and pulled her up the stairs to his room.

"What did’ja want to show me?" asked Kazuha, confused. Heiji didn't answer her, but went to his desk and pulled something out of his drawer. A map covered with red crosses and more sheets. He picked out one in particular and thrust it into her hand. It was a sketch of an alley and in the middle lay ... two corpses? Kazuha didn't understand.

"Why did ya draw that?" She looked questioningly at Heiji and then back at the sketch. If it was a case, he would rather have photos of the crime scene than sketches like that - even if he wasn't allowed to have the photos, Heiji always got to them somehow.

"This is what I dreamed of," Heiji explained. Kazuha looked up again and noticed how he fixed her with his gaze, as if expecting a certain reaction. When none came, he added, "And lately, my dreams are comin' true."

"True? What do ya mean?"

"'Exactly what I said. I've also been dreamin' about the man who was shot in front of our train and how Ku- how Conan took that knife."

Kazuha frowned, then put the papers aside to devote her full attention to Heiji. "Ya mean ya dreamed about it before it happened?"

"That's why I gave Conan my lucky charm."

That's why he had...?  She didn't know exactly what to make of it, but if Heiji was claiming something like that, then he had to be serious. He had never believed in the supernatural, unlike her. Unless... this was supposed to be a joke, but the rings under Heiji's eyes looked too real for that, and he didn't have the patience for such a long preparation, to pretend the whole time. "Who are the two in the sketch?" she finally asked as a dark foreboding crept up on her. The implied clothing and hairstyles did seem a little too familiar now, but she still hoped to the end that she was wrong.

"My parents."

o0o

"And yere sure ya saw the future?" inquired Kazuha again. "What if it was just a nightmare after all?"

"It wasn't a nightmare, neither were the other times!" retorted Heiji irritably. "It feels different, not like a dream, much more real," he tried to explain. He gestured additionally with his hands, but he couldn't seem to make this feeling tangible to Kazuha. That was probably a futile endeavor anyway, because how could one imagine something that shouldn't exist/ defied all reason? "Ya better take another look at that sketch and tell me if that alley looks familiar to ya in any way." He himself was already back at his desk hunched over his map, checking off the places he'd already ruled out. It had to be an alley where the houses were very close together and there was also a konbini. Unfortunately, this was true for far too many places. He was circling another one when Kazuha interrupted his train of thought.

"That's strange ..." Heiji looked up and glanced at Kazuha, who was sitting on his bed.

"What, did ya notice somethin'?!" Kazuha's eyebrows drew together thoughtfully, then pointed to the strokes that were supposed to represent Shizuka. "Yer mother's kimono, it's folded wrong."

"Folded wrong?" Heiji virtually snatched the sheet from her, causing her to let out an indignant sound. He ignored her, however, and let his gaze wander over the drawing as he plopped down on the bed beside her. Indeed, the right side of her kimono was draped over the left, but that was something one did only with corpses. Has someone tampered with her body after her death? But then there would have to be signs. The blood would be distributed differently, the binding messier.

"Maybe ya just remembered it wrong, or ya didn't draw it properly," suggested Kazuha, who had slid next to him and was now peering over his shoulder. Heiji shook his head.

"I drew it right after I had the vision. It was all still so clear, I-" He thought feverishly, wondering if he could have made a mistake after all, but that would be unusual. He had always trained himself to memorize details well for his detective work. On the other hand, he had been in shock.

"If yere so sure, maybe it was just a nightmare after all," Kazuha mused. "That would explain it, and it would be good too, wouldn't it?"

"But-" Of course Heiji wished that too, yet how could he be sure? "What if it wasn't? What if it is a vision and I don't stop it from happening?" There was so much pain in his voice that Kazuha got a clear picture of what he must have been going through the last few weeks. It made her shiver. 

"Maybe there are other inconsistencies that make it definite," it then occurred to her. "Yere not supposed to be able to read in dreams because the letters blur. Or the time on a clock jumps around too fast. Do ya remember anythin' that was weird?"

"I don't know." Heiji suddenly wasn't so sure what to believe. Had he imagined the visions after all? But Kudo and the man couldn't both be coincidences. Some of the victims from his other dreams had also appeared on television afterwards. No, the visions were real, but maybe he was wrong at least this time. It was to be wished.

"Try to remember," Kazuha urged him. She placed a hand on his back for support. "What exactly did ya see? Try ta recall from the start."

"Okay." Heiji took a deep breath and closed his eyes to concentrate better. Then he willingly recalled the images that had been tormenting him day and night.

"I was standing in this alley, my parents were walking down it, a-as," he faltered, and though his eyes were already closed, he squeezed them even tighter at the scene that followed. Only he couldn't escape the image behind his eyelids that way. "Someone shot them, the bullets came from somewhere behind me, but I couldn't turn around. Not even my head." If only he had tried harder. Heiji didn't realize he had clenched his hand into a fist until he felt Kazuha's on it. She gently pulled them apart again.

"And then?"

"I tried checkin’ my wristwatch for the time, at least, and-" He held his breath.

"It's okay, ya don't hafta force yerself."

"No!" She had misinterpreted his repeated halting. Heiji's eyes snapped open and he beamed at her. "Yere a genius!" Kazuha gave him a more than puzzled look in response. Not that she was averse to the compliment, but what had she done to deserve it? "The watch! My wristwatch! I was too busy flusterin' over the time that I didn't notice it, but the hands, they were all wrong."

"The hands were wrong?" repeated Kazuha, still baffled. Heiji nodded eagerly.

"The small hand and the big hand were on the same line. If it was really 12:30, then the hour hand shoulda been between the one and the two, but definitely not straight on it." He breathed a sigh of relief and flopped backwards on his bed. "In other words, it really was just a nightmare." Now that that was cleared up, he suddenly felt extremely tired. His limbs and eyes were heavy but still nothing was more relieving than this moment. He had been so scared. So many people had died that he hadn't found enough information to save, and each of those lives weighed on him. He couldn't have borne having his parents on his conscience as well. "Thank you."

Kazuha smiled weakly, she too was glad that Heiji's parents weren't really in danger, yet something still worried her. That vision had only been a nightmare, but if the others before it had really been real, what would Heiji get to see in the future? And how could he learn to keep dream and reality apart? She didn't want to see him so completely wrecked again, but something told her that's exactly what would happen. Maybe some of his psychic abilities were rubbing off on her, or maybe she just knew him too well.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in June 2023. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #51 |  ko-fi | fic recs

—Louis/Harry—

🩷 Teach me how to love by @perfectdagger

(E, 70k, one night stand) The one in which Harry is bad at sex and Louis spreads it all over town and to make up for it, decides to help him with no agenda of getting anything from it, but in the end, he ends up getting more than he bargained for.

🩷 My Other Half Was You by @lululawrence

(NR, 35k, small town au) Four years, seven months, and sixteen days after the day that changed everything, Louis turns a corner and literally runs into the man who just might change it all again.

🩷 Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16

(E, 30k, songfic) It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.

🩷 Cowboy Like Me by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(M, 29k, thief au) Going legit and starting over in a small town was supposed to solve all of Harry’s problems. That was until a string of robberies in wealthy towns brings him face-to-face with his rogue ex-partner and their dicey, unresolved past.

🩷 Every Lover's Got A Little Dagger In Their Hand by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry

(E, 22k, enemies to lovers) Does the attraction between two complete opposites really exist, or is it just a myth?

🩷 It Will Always Be You by @phdmama

(E, 15k, older Larry) If you had told Louis Tomlinson a year ago that he would be celebrating his birthday by kissing the man who is the love of his life on a Church Street park bench in Burlington VT as the snow drifted softly down, he would have told you that you were extremely imaginative. 

🩷 You Light Up the Path by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(T, 12k, mermaid au) Louis Tomlinson left his home in Doncaster as a young man with the intent of making enough money to send it back home to his family and support them however he could. Harry, or so he likes to be called, is the myth and legend himself known as the Staithes Mermaid. 

🩷 The Revelation by @creamcoffeelou

(E, 8k, cult au) Harry feels his edges start to unravel. He can’t find where he ends and where Louis begins.  Part 3 of The Risen

🩷 Lacy Little Secret by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

(E, 6k, bachelor party) Harry learned a very valuable lesson that day: always check to make sure it’s the right car before getting in.

🩷 the embers are new by @nouies

(NR, 3k, fantasy) Louis is a dragon vet whose life is changed after a long trip.

🩷 DIY Orgasm by red_PANdaaa28 / @red-pandaaa

(E, 3k, Grindr) Harry takes artsy nudes, Louis receives one and they both get to come.

🩷 Next in Line by @jaerie

(E, 3k, a/b/o)  It wasn’t fair that nobody was doing anything about such behaviour. Harry couldn’t ban all alphas from his shows, but he could make omega only sections.

🩷 Just a little taste by @lunarheslwt

(G, 3k, vampire au) Harry is a vampire that comes home one night, grappling with the darkness that comes with being one.

🩷 The Early Show by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 2k, uni radio show) The thing about Harry is that Louis has never been sure if he doesn’t like hybrids, or if he doesn’t like Louis. Either way, it’s unfortunate that they apparently are both equally late.

🩷 Ahead in the Count by @kingsofeverything

(E, 2k, baseball au) Louis’s been a catcher in the minor leagues for more than a decade and he’s never known a pitcher to touch his junk more often than he touches the baseball.

🩷 I Hear the Wind, It's Whispering My Name by Anonymous

(M, 2k, ghost fic) She’d also allowed herself to think of the woman every time she had a bit of me time over the next week. But then the woman had returned.

🩷 Imagination into Reality by @tommokat

(E, 1k, girl direction) It’s more than just physical, it’s years and years of attraction and pining and something that tastes like love. 

🩷 All This Time by @allwaswell16

(T, 1k, flower shop au) Louis Tomlinson had been best friends with flower shop owner Gemma Styles for years. It wasn't until she suggested he date her alpha brother that he ever thought of Harry that way. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea...

—Rare Pairs—

🩷 Pageant Material by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(G, 6k, Zayn/Louis) the Zouis teen beauty pageant AU.

🩷 Cool Kids Never Have The Time by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

(T, 6k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn auditions to join a band and makes a bad first impression on their bassist.

🩷 you wanna be on top? by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 6k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn’s experience as a contestant on America’s Next Top Model left her more than a little traumatized. She thinks she knows what to expect when she lets herself be talked into making an appearance on the show a couple of years later. Louis manages to surprise her.

[xoxopandapanda]

Inukag Week 2023: Day 2: Possession

@inukag-week

Day 1  Day 2  Day 3  Day 4  Day 5  Day 6  Day 7

AO3

Fanfiction

It wasn’t until Kagome had met and spent a lot of time with Inuyasha that she realized how lucky she was growing up. Sure, she had known she had a good homelife, a loving family, and a future to look forward to.

Inuyasha had nothing but the clothes on his back and the chips on his shoulder.

The first time Inuyasha curled up and fell asleep on her bed, Kagome wanted to let him stay there forever. He seemed to just melt into the soft comforter, his face relaxing off the harshness that normally sat there. He seemed to just be a normal teenage boy in that moment, rather than the harsh and difficult half-demon he was when he was awake.

If Kagome could have given him that peace for the rest of his life, she would have in a heartbeat.

But as with everything, it came to an end that he was sleeping peacefully and quietly on that bed and the real world came knocking and demanded they return to the quest that engulfed their every moment.

The desire to give him everything didn’t disappear with the morning sun, however.

At some point, Inuyasha had become very comfortable with seizing anything and everything of hers and using to his own means. Sleeping bag? Now his for sitting on when camping outside until she made him get off for her to sleep. Books? A source of entertainment (sometimes kindling) for when he wanted to annoy her. Clothes? Those worked great for drying off or wiping sweat off his face, even if they were still on her body and he was just flat out rubbing his forehead on her. Shoes? Ah, perfect for throwing at the crows that gathered on Kaede’s roof. Fifty-fifty if he got them down without her having to ask him.

Kagome found herself specifically looking for things they could share. He had a favorite pair of chopsticks that once were hers, so she got another set. His long hair required softer elastic band on hair ties, so she got scrunchies and clips for them to use when bathing. He preferred open-mouth water bottles to straws, so she got rid of her original one to get a big one they could share.

There was a time when she would have been mortified at the thought of sharing every single thing in her life, but just like how Inuyasha had melded into her bed that night, they blended together.

What was hers was his, and vice versa.

It was so natural after a while, that not even having it pointed out to them would cause them to blush or deny it.

“Less to carry if we share more.” Kagome had said once to Kaede as Inuyasha chugged the entirety of the very large water jug. “It just makes sense.”

Shippo had all of his own things, so it perhaps didn’t actually make sense. She carried a special water bottle, utensils, pillow, soap, crayons, and just about anything else for the little boy. It was the same for Miroku and Sango, who each had their own designated items in her pack.

It was just Inuyasha that she shared everything with.

Soon physical possessions weren’t just the only thing the two teens shared. Inuyasha started to share her successes at school and joined in on studying with her, despite not finding much use for it. It helped her a lot to have another person to talk to, even if it was just grunting red clad boy who knew nothing about theoretical math.

Miroku had tried to help her study, and he was great for history and religious topics, however laying on her stomach next to a lounging half-demon seemed to be the best way for her to work through math equations.

Tapping his shoulder, Kagome commanded his attention to her homework. “Is that a three or eight?” The dim lighting from the fire prevented her from being able to fully make it out. She could if she scooted closer, but it was more convenient to take advantage of Inuyasha’s better eyesight. He drew an eight in the air with his finger.

“To the power of eight?!” Kagome collapsed onto her arm in exasperation. “How am I supposed to figure that out?”

“Write it out.” Inuyasha had no idea what a power of eight was, but he knew what he was supposed to say when the numbers came out. Mama Higurashi had taught him.

Sighing loudly, Kagome rearranged herself onto her elbows and started writing out the equation. Inuyasha felt a surge of pride at being helpful to her, even if he had no idea how it all worked. He didn’t quite get why she was so certain she needed school, but if it was important to her, it was important to him to.

After all, they shared everything.

Including hopes and dreams, he realized one day when in a heated spat with Miroku over Kagome. He had pressed about their future together, insinuating that they should just hurry up and get married. He and Sango had to wait after all, until the curse was lifted, but no such restrictions were on Kagome and Inuyasha.

Inuyasha had huffed and snarled out, “She wants to go to high school. It’s important to her to graduate.”

Miroku had a blank look cross his face. “What does that mean, exactly?” the monk asked.

Inuyasha felt a sense of embarrassment overcome him. He didn’t know exactly what it meant to graduate. “It means…” he scrambled for words. “…she’s finished her school.”

“What’s next for her?”

Inuyasha wanted to strangle the man walking alongside him to fetch water for Kaede. “She wants to finish school and…” his jaw worked hard as he processed if he wanted to tell Miroku what he knew or what. For some reason, the thought that it might deter further questions. “Have a career and raise dogs. Maybe get married but that’s not important to her.”

Miroku nodded as if he understood. Clearly, he did not. “What is a career?”

“Something you do until you’re old.” Souta’s basic explanation was all he knew of the topic.

“Like being a priestess?” Miroku’s eyes wandered over to look at Inuyasha’s profile. It was bright red.

Inuyasha huffed loudly. Miroku took that as a yes, so he continued to prod. “What’s this about dogs?”

“Dogs are her favorite animal and she wants to have a bunch when she’s older.” Inuyasha answered without thinking. “It’s not common to have a lot of dogs, but with the shrine grounds, she can, so she wants to rescue them from living on the street or bad homes.”

Miroku paused for a moment, calculating his next question. “Like how she rescued you?”

Inuyasha stopped walking suddenly, causing the monk to get just a few paces ahead. Miroku tried to gauge if he had gone a step too far. Inuyasha seemed frozen eyes straight ahead for what felt like forever, and Miroku was just about to tell Inuyasha to forget his comment and change topics when Inuyasha spoke.

“Yeah.”

Miroku finally turned his body to look at his friend and see a softness cross his features. He started walking again forward, quietly whispering, “Except this time, we’re going to do the rescuing together.”

Because, after all, they shared far more than just possessions.

[thesillydoll]

GOS2 SPOILERS

Theory #??? What, 4?

Well.

While crying over how beautiful Ineffable Bureaucracy was, I commented that Anna seemed very socially awkward, and Shelley seemed more forthcoming. I wasn't trying to be disrespectful to Anna or her Beelzebub, in fact I love it. I feel very identified. However, it also seemed strange to me. Why did it change so much?

I mean, we were supposed to have an explanation for Beelzebub's new face, but we only got "They needed a change" "This old thing?" and other comments.

I remember we all talked about how Beelzebub tried to smile in s1. They made strange gestures with them mouth, grimaces, which we collectively interpret as 'attempted smile'.

But now they can smile and make sheep eyes?

I mean, they're in love, that shit (love) does weird things to you. it changes you . . I guess. (See this from my more aromantic side.) But this is all very 'Female Makeover Trope'. . . If we were in some cis comedy. We are not ( i doubt Neil knows what straight means) and I feel that there is something beyond Beel's face/personality change.

They're still Lord Beelzebub and terrifies everyone. Their first meeting with Gabe after the nopocalypse is fluid, somewhat tense, but much more bearable than their previous conversation.

How do we go from our Beelzebub, who we love being socially awkward, to Beelzebub pulling a fly off his tongue? (Very attractive, sorry).

Shelley is amazing, very romantic. Gabe is the one who doesn't know how to feel. A different dynamic than what we would think of Anna with Jon. I can imagine Anna, doing something different. Straighter in the chair, always pending and alert. Looking up at Gabe with those amazing, cold blue eyes. Struggling to smile. Anna and Jon are the definition of Dark curls/ Watercolors eyes. (Gabe at Job's, he's very dark curls, and Beel, well, watercolor eyes) Also, Gabe smiles with all his teeth, as the song says, and the dynamic 'How to smile without looking like a serial killer, 101' would be very beautiful.

I understand. They'll say "Shelley wanted to do her thing". But the script is very precise about its intimacy. The flashbacks wouldn't be the same if Shelley didn't have those beautiful sheep eyes.

Also, Neil made canon a couple taken from fanfictions. 6 minutes was enough for us hahaha. I'm sure Neil had at least a general idea of how we handle Beel in the fics. He wanted to make his own story, but it doesn't seem consistent with the character of the first season.

(I repeat, we know little about Beel, but they're an exceptional demon in many ways compared to the dump they runs.)

My crazy theory, here we go, is that Beel was planning on running off with Gabe. They even seems to hint that they would give their position to Crowley, and they are desperate to find Gabriel. And Gabriel makes warnings regarding something that he should give to Aziraphale and that never materializes.

Beelzebub seems to have planned everything to run at the slightest opportunity. Even knowing about the 'extreme sanctions' for those who help Gabriel, (being erased from the Book of Life), they're run the risk.

Or they just changed their faces just bc. Who knows? Maybe, Neil. Probably, Neil.

It would be a shame not to fix these small "fails/spots" (I don't think Neil or Douglas make it) in the third.

Something must have disturbed Satan and God (or her voice) for them to come together. We know that after they fell in love, they had their own ideas about the Nopocalypse. Gabriel refused to destroy the Earth, mostly because it was their dollhouse.

I mean, they saw an angel endure the flames of Hell and a demon swim in holy water. I would have erased them from the Book of Life and continued with the war.

Maybe God intervened. We do not know. But it should have been talked about. Maybe that's why Gabe and Beel needed to get together. Perhaps the plan was to destroy Zira and Crowley. Or investigate at least.

What doesn't surprise me is Beel's taste in music. They have the best artists in Hell, surely they went through the Bach's torture at some time.

Those kinds of things seem congruent to me. What turns out that the script in general seems incoherent to me.

What do you think? I'm on my 4th cup of coffee and haven't slept in quite a while. I'm going crazy?

Either way, if you read my verbiage, I expect responses.

Kisses, Tor.

[orionsangel86]

I watched every goddamn episode and I have no fucking clue what Loki is supposed to be about. So.. he's the tree of life now or something? For some reason? He walked out into space, grabbed a bunch of time vines, sat down and now he's inside a tree. Ok Marvel.

Not gonna lie i have spent most of this season feeling a bit confused. Didnt understand most of what was going on throughout this series but then I've lost the plot with the MCU for a while now.

Although I will say that however else you look at it, for Loki's character arc specifically that was a beautiful example of poetic irony.

The way he always wanted a throne right back in the first Thor movie, the way he first says in The Avengers "I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose". The way that Loki wanted to be a powerful God in his own right, in control of his own fate and not overshadowed by his brother, and then he goes through all that, realises he doesnt want that at all, he wants what everyone wants, friendship, love, not to be alone, and yet... and yet...

He got the throne in the end. Not by choice, but by an act of sacrifice. He is now the most powerful person in the MCU. He Who Remains, in control of not just the sacred timeline, but all the timelines, the entire multiverse. He is the tree of life. He is Yggdrasil (the tree of life in Norse Mythology) and what a redemption arc, what a development from that sad lonely prince.

I thought that was amazing. I may not have understood much else, but Loki has always been my favourite MCU character, and there is something so beautifully tragic about that ending. Its shakespearean, and its so fitting for him.

I dunno if this is the end for Loki, or if there will be a s3 or if he will turn up in future MCU projects (to be honest him turning up is probably the only way I'd watch another MCU project) but if it is the end for him I'm oddly okay with it. The Loki at the End of Time. Poor thing. Poor lonely god.

Also the fanfiction will be marvelous. ;)

[dappledpaintbrush]

Are you the one who wrote 'A Jester's Lament'?

What inspired you to write it? (41 chapters!)

Oh no no no, I’d HATE to be that weirdo who wrote 400 pages worth of mario fanfiction! haughty laughter is then interrupted by 500 drawings of Lament Dimentio falling out of my pocket

Tbh what inspired me was. Myself? Weirdly enough? I mean of course SPM being my biggest interest was absolutely part of the reason why it’s so long and why I wrote it to begin with. But what specifically sparked the story of AJL was the fact there was an extremely specific type of Dimentio redemption story I was looking for. Of course, I’m not saying AJL is the first of its kind or something because it most definitely is not lmao😭😭 But there were just some things I preferred in an AU that tries to redeem Dimentio, and after searching for a while for, again, that extremely specific story, I thought, “DUDE JUST MAKE IT YOURSELF💀💀💀💀” and so I did. And a lot of people just ???? happened to like it??? :

Even though story length was one of my specific wants, I highly doubt I could’ve completed 41 chapters without the immense support I received. I genuinely cannot thank you guys enough. Seriously, if you like a fic, I highly highly reccomend commenting. You have no idea how much that means to writers 🤍

I’m putting this under a read more so I don’t clog people’s feed, but if anybody’s curious, some of my specific wants were:

- Length. I needed this fic to be almost unbearably long. I needed people to say GODDD DAAMMMNN when they looked at the word count.

- Dimentio somehow getting more unredeemable before he got redeemed (idk if I fully accomplished that, but I tried) (it’s hard to get worse than the complete annihilation of life) (I just tried not to purposefully write him in a likable way early on in the story)

- Dimentio dying the same amount of times he killed Luigi in the game

- Dimentio in general getting shit absolutely rocked

- Luigi not being a doormat, ESPECIALLY SINCE DIMENTIO ABUSED HIM

- DIMENTIO. BEING. IN. CHARACTER. THIS IS NOT JUST SOME SILLY GOOFY CLOWN!!! HE IS EVIL!!! HE TRIED TO KILL EVERY SINGLE ENTITY THAT HAS EVER EXISTED, DEAD AND ALIVE. HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE TERRIFYING AND SCARY!!! yes he’s naturally charming, write him as such, BUT NEVER FORGET THE THREAT HE IS!!!!

- Dimentio having a backstory that’s emo enough to explain the person he became but not emo enough to be his main source of redemption via pity if that makes sense. I think I achieved this? But of course that’s subjective, and looking back there were better ways to go about it. Basically what I tried to do is give him a good childhood with loving parents- minus the “accident” of course- and have Dimentio himself clarify in Chapter 15:

Basically: the loss of his family and the shit he went through definitely played a role. However, instead of a Blumiere-like “My loved one(s) died, now all worlds are without meaning and deserve to be destroyed,” Dimentio’s grief triggered a very deadly greed that did not revolve around the ones he lost. Blumiere’s motivation for destruction, including himself, was purely the loss of Timpani. Dimentio’s motivation for destruction, excluding himself, was, well, himself. For once, Dimentio wanted to earn, not lose. Making Dimentio have an understandable backstory but be “less sympathetic” than his counterpart, Blumiere, was important to me during the creation of AJL. But this gets extremely complicated because something like hmm uh idk erm MASS MURDER is impossible to truly make sympathetic. Regardless of intention, Dimentio and Blumiere did the exact same thing. Regardless of intention, Dimentio and Blumiere were both selfish. You can’t exactly destroy life itself in a non-selfish way. Both characters are equally unredeemable (or… equally redeemable, technically). Strip their actions down for their bones, and all you’ll see is two characters that tried to ERASE EXISTENCE. Sure, you can FEEL more sympathy for one than compared to the other, but feelings are subjective. Facts are objective. And the fact is, Dimentio and Blumiere attempted mass murder. You see why this is difficult to explain and even more difficult to write? I have a headache. God speed everybody

- More shit I’m probably forgetting

- Picture of a cat I found

[thatredheadwriter]

Phthalo Blue

frankie morales x neurodivergent!reader

Frankie comes home to find you overstimulated and he knows just how to help.

This was supposed to be a drabble, but it’s just over 2.3k words. I’m in my feels and very overstimulated and would like it very much if a big strong sexy man wanted to come and take care of me for just a little bit. A lot of this is written around my own experience as a neurodivergent person, so obviously everyone won’t relate, and I also express a lot of the reader’s frustration at getting overstimulated, as that’s something I personally deal with. I’m also marking this as female!reader because of the singular gendered spanish noun and the fact that I wrote this with female!reader in mind, but it’s fairly gender neutral overall.

This is a SFW oneshot for neurodivergent!female!reader with Frankie Morales of Triple Frontier. This work does not contain smut, however, it may contain mature language or themes, and as a rule, my blog is only for those over the age of 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Content Includes (but is not limited to):

Neurodivergent reader

Female reader

Domestic Frankie

Mentions of Frankie's daughter from another relationship (but she's not in this one)

They have a meet-cute, I might write more about these two

Swearing

Vivid descriptions of feeling overstimulated

Reader has hair, no specific description

Possible allusion to Frankie’s own mental health issues (very mild)

Reader feels guilty for needing to make accommodations

I want to insert a little disclaimer here: not all neurodivergent people experience overstimulation the same way. Also, Frankie is super helpful and supportive in this fic, because this is the kind of fic I need to read right now. A lot of neurodivergent folk prefer to be alone when overstimulated and (most importantly) we do no need anyone to fix us. If you are neurodivergent, you should not feel bad or shameful or guilty about stimming/using fidgets/making accommodations for yourself. I’m bringing up some of those feelings here, and while I feel it’s addressed in the fic, I want to explicitly reinforce that these are not bad things.

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

Frankie could read you like a book. It’d always been that way, as much as you used to despise it. After years of hiding irritation and overstimulation, masking your frustration with a too bright, too loud, too coarse world, it was unsettling. For once in your life, you were seen, and it made you feel like a bug under a microscope.

But as you got to know Frankie, you realized he wasn’t looking at you like some science experiment or a stressed-out shelter animal. He cared, and noticing was his way of showing that he cared. At first, it was little things at the shop, always making sure you had earplugs or headphones available, being careful to never sneak up on you. You absolutely adored the way he would lean up against the front desk and talk to you, facing the front door so there was no obligation of eye contact.

Frankie Morales wasn’t doing all those things just so he could ask you out, but when he did there was no way you'd turn him down. Especially when he'd asked you to meet him at your favorite café on Sunday morning.

Since that first date, the two of you have learned a lot about each other. Frankie learned that you love his little touches, so long as his presence is announced and he doesn’t come up on you from behind. You learned that Frankie has a tendency to shut doors with a little too much force, despite his best efforts. He hates fireworks and being on any plane that he’s not flying. You despise fluorescent lights and would rather die than touch dirty dishes that have been soaking in the sink.

When the door from the garage slams, announcing Frankie’s arrival home, you sigh. Tonight you’re supposed to meet Santi and the Millers out at some restaurant and even though you love the boys, you’d rather die. It’s been a lousy day, first waking up with a headache, then being stuck in a zoom call all morning with a guy who could not figure out how to mute himself, then spending nearly six hours hunched over one project that you were due to present tomorrow and it just wasn’t quite right.

“There you are,” Frankie finds you halfway contorted in your desk chair, face mere inches from the screen as you try to figure out why that one element of the logo doesn’t look like it should. He can tell from the eight different cups on your desk and the noise machine playing ocean sounds in the corner that you were in a mood. Rain was for work, thunderstorms for relaxing and reading, and ocean sounds for when you were really worked up.

“Hey,” you mumbled halfheartedly, eyes tracing the cursor across the screen, It wasn’t untl Frankie moved into your line of sight, patiently taking a seat in the armchair by your desk, that you really acknowledged him. “Sorry, I’ll be finished in just a minute.” You shot him an apologetic glance, knowing he’d had a long day too.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, knowing you feel guilty anytime you feel like you're distracted from him. “I’ll be right here when you’re finished.”

He’s patient. Thirty minutes later you finally double check that the project saved and close the tab, leaning back in your char with a groan.

“That bad?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you know I’ve had a bad day?”

He laughs, “Your knee hasn’t stopped bouncing since I got here, you have four different fidgets out on your desk, there are eight cups in here, your hair looks like you’ve stuck your finger in a socket, and you’re playing the ocean sounds. I can tell.” The last words he follows with a soft smile.

You just stare at him, in awe of the way this man knows you. The feeling slightly eases the hot prickle at the back of your mind and for the first time all day, it’s like you can take a deep breath again.

“What time do we need to leave?” you ask, stretching your arms above your head in a way that makes you feel like an overgrown housecat. You’re still not looking forward to going out, but it no longer seems like an unbearable task. As long as Frankie’s with you.

“I already texted the guys and told them we’re a rain check for tonight,” he held up his phone like you're going to ask for the evidence.

“When’d you do that?”

“While you were finishing your thing. I know you’re wound up and the last thing you need is to go to the grand opening of yet another business Pope has invested in.”

At a loss for words, you find yourself scrambling into his lap, his musky scent grounding you further as you try o show him how much you appreciate his understanding. But your eyes snap up to his when the chair creaks under the two of you.

“Let’s get some dinner, okay?”

You leave Frankie upstairs to get changed. In the kitchen, you find he’s already loaded the dishwasher, a chore you’d been hoping to do at lunch but didn’t, and took out the trash. At a loss for what to fix, you pad into the living room and turn on the TV, wincing when the volume is slightly too loud.

Nothing seems to scratch the itch in your brain. You want to watch something, but you’re not sure what. Everything just feels wrong. Just like dinner, you can’t decide and you can feel that prickly sensation growing again now that you’re away from Frankie and his overwhelming amount of common sense. He was great at pointing out things that should be obvious, and yet he never made you feel like an idiot for missing them.

Just as you’re beginning to sink into despair over trying to pick a fucking tv show, Frankie appears, and he can see the frustration written all over your face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he pulls you into a hug, and you let him, nuzzling into his old t-shirt and breathing him in.

“It’s just a lot right now,” you mumble.

“I know. Come help me fix dinner and then we can find something.”

“ ‘kay”

You’re not so much helping in the kitchen as you are observing, but neither of you minds much. Frankie is a whiz in the kitchen, and it soothes you a little to watch him in his element. As he works, gathering ingredients and chopping things, he tells you about his day. Joseph took left the garage for four different phone calls from his girlfriend, the new receptionist has terrible breath, but at least she knows how to answer the phone unlike the guy Grant hired after you left. Something about a new timeclock system makes you giggle, Frankie’s an old soul and he’s never been a big fan of computers or anything considered remotely new technology.

Eventually he has you in stitches, halfway laid across the kitchen island as you try to catch your breath as your chest heaves with laughter.

“I’m not fucking kidding, the new parts system is evil,” he points the wooden spoon in his hand at you and even though his words are serious there’s a grin tugging the corners of his mouth.

It’s not long before he’s plating up a dish, something with rice and vegetables and chicken that smells so damn good and tastes even better, a fact you make known to him.

“Always happy to cook for you, querida.”

Once you’ve had your fill, he sets your plate in the sink “for tomorrow” he mumbles into the top of your head as he steers you into the living room.

“Do you have anything in mind?” he asks, nodding to the TV, but you’ve already picked up your tablet and opened it to a magazine article you’d been reading.

“Your team is playing, Frankie,” you settle into his side and adjust the screen brightness. “Watch your game. I already made you stay home tonight.”

He’s quick to correct you, “You didn’t make me do anything. We stayed in tonight and I for one, am loving it.”

You just roll your eyes at him and pull your favorite blanket over your lap.

Your eyes flit to the TV for the second time in ten minutes. Eleven minutes left to go in the fourth quarter and the other team had just called a timeout.

In retrospect, you knew this would happen. Something about live sports was always a little too much, even if you weren’t really watching. Usually it was something you could bear, you’d distract yourself with work or a book or noise-canceling headphones. But after the day you’ve had, your ability to regulate is shot.

You got all the way to the first half before you moved to the other end of the couch. Everything was touching you, Frankie, his clothes, your clothes, the blanket, your hair; it was all too much. You needed some relief. Now you were cold, and alone, but slightly less irate.

By the end of the third quarter you’re hyperaware of the tightness in your jaw and the fact that you’ve had to reread the same page seven times and you still haven’t understood a single word of it. Everytime a commercial comes on it’s an internal battle not to flinch, the volume seeming so much louder than the game itself. The TV is too bright and so are the lamps and god your head hurts. But Frankie’s been so sweet and accommodating all evening. You feel like the least you can do is let him watch one damn game.

“You okay, pup?” Frankie squeezes your ankle and draws you out of your spiraling thoughts. His eyes are full of concern and you notice you’ve been rocking your knee for who knows how long.

“I’m fine,” you shake your head and smile unconvincingly, the prickly feeling taking over your whole body now, “I’m going to go get ready for bed. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Frankie isn’t convinced, you can tell by the way is brow stays tightly knit and you can practically hear the protest on his lips, but before he can say anything you’re up and pecking him on the lips before bounding up the stairs.

For a moment you debate just showering, before deciding that bombarding yourself with water is probably not the best idea. Instead you splash some water on your face, brush your teeth with your favorite toothpaste–designated as such for its mild flavor–and slip on a sleep shirt instead of your yoga pants and tank top.

As you walk back down the stairs you brace yourself for the sound of football, but it doesn’t come. Rather, as you round the corner, you hear a familiar voice and a faint tapping sound.

You nearly start crying when you realize Frankie has flipped it over to Bob Ross, a soft smirk on his face.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?” he almost whispered, eyebrow quirking.

“I was hoping you hadn’t,” you murmured honestly, stumbling towards the couch and collapsing into him. For as long as you could remember, Bob Ross was better than any sedative at calming your mind and bringing down the noise of life. You’d shared that fact with Frankie when he caught you watching it in your car one day during your lunch break after a particularly stressful interaction with an rude customer.

“Did you think I would get mad or something?” you can hear the hurt in his voice and it makes your chest ache.

“No, Fish,” you settle into his side, “I just feel like you accommodate me all the time. And you should be able to watch a football game in your own home.”

He rumbles in understanding, “But it’s your home too, pup. Hell, you're the one who painted Sofia's room. And our room. And you put together the furniture, and-”

“I know, I know," you cut him off before he can start a proper list.

"I don't want you to hide stuff from me."

He's right, but you're tired. “Let’s just watch some Bob Ross and we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

"Tomorrow."

You nod into his belly and sigh into the darkness, noticing he’s turned off the lamps too. And that’s how you stay for a while, for at least two Bob Rosses, until the tension has melted from your body and you’re contentedly limp against Frankie.

As the credits roll for the second episode, you sit up with a yawn and find yourself stifling a laugh. Frankie has fallen asleep with his mouth open, and it’s a sight that melts your heart. A year and a half ago if someone told you that you’d be living with the cute, scruffy mechanic from work and forcing yourself to wake him up for the sake of his lower back, you would have called them crazy.

But you kiss him awake, something even a grumpy Frankie enjoys, and pull him off the couch and up the stairs. The day is over and now you get to spend the next eight hours with the person who knows you best, and you know that no matter what life throws at you, Frankie’ll be there at the end of the day to turn on Bob Ross and remind you that home is never far away.

[goddamnwebcomics]

Mary Sue or Not?

There is nothing in the modern Twattersphere that angers me more than words losing their meaning and semantics. I will never EVER use a word I feel has lost all meaning unless I use it in its proper context and with a proper MEANING. But there is one word I admit I used a lot back in the early days and even post-hiatus days of my blog, "Mary Sue".

Here is the most objective definition of the term.

A Mary Sue is a character archetype in fiction, typically a young female, characterized by an implausible level of competence, unique talents or powers, and attractiveness. These characters are often universally liked or respected within their narrative, possess minimal realistic flaws, and exhibit innate virtues. Originating from fanfiction, a Mary Sue often serves as an idealized version of the author, fulfilling a wish-fulfillment role. While the term is gendered, it can apply to both female and male characters, with the male equivalents sometimes referred to as Gary Stu or Marty Stu.

Let's look at past characters I've labeled as Mary Sues or Gary Stus and see if they match the description.

Mora Linda (Las Lindas)

Even back then I hated to use this word, but apparently I used it to describe everyone's favorite cow asshole because...she got kissed by Minos.

Mora is NOT universally liked, even when you disqualify someone like Alejandra. Rachel and Miles both dislike her, which is why they bonded in the first place (ew). She has also received constructive criticism from Buttdog, Alejandra post-redemption and even Minos. Even then Mora is by no means shown to be a perfect bunny. It's just that Soulkat is a horrible writer, and can't portray Mora in sympathetic light. If she were flawless, perfect being, she would actually be way more likable. She is supposed to be a strong independent no-bullshit matriarch of the house with alleged street smart tendencies, but instead comes across like a fucking drunkard asshole who verbally and emotionally abuses her employees and cries constantly to manipulate people to do her bidding. We should've seen her develop into a better character by now, but anytime a character shows up who should improve Mora (like Alej or Randall), they instead become more like her. I can see how someone might think she is a Mary Sue though because of how she marries a Crest, is the daughter of a weird powerful God being and she is desired by multiple men, but that's just meant to give a reason for why Lady Ambar is constantly watching over her.

Mora is a terrible protagonist but she is not a Mary Sue, even if the comic treats her like she is right most of the time. She's supposed to have an arc, but that arc doesn't work because she barely changes. Being badly written doesn't automatically make someone a Mary Sue. Have some nuance for fucks sake.

Llewlyn Connor (Warmage)

Llew is a Mary Sue because he can fly and he was mentored by a group of witches. I...what?

Now to be fair, I was only starting the comic, but Llew is...complicated. Outside of the spanking scene, Llewlyn is completely boring protagonist. It's just that he gets into a lot of...bizarre situations. Yes, every woman in his life wants to fuck him but it's clear it's not necessarily because he is attractive but it's rather his bizarre hindu-pagan beliefs. I think it was an attempt from Dumok to make an audience surrogate, but then he also gets raped??? However, the comic doesn't treat him like he is always right, he isn't actually that important, and there are other superheroes besides him? A lot of stuff in the comic happens without him being actively involved. It's not really until Miguel Sanchez disguises himself as him that he becomes important.

Again, Llew is less of a Mary Sue than Mora is, but he is still averagely badly written protagonist. He is trying really hard to be the Hindu-Pagan Batman. And let's not even talk about his "Chaotic Neutrality".

Speaking of Warmage...

Tsuki (Warmage)

I am not going to link the post where I said it due to uncensored nudity, but I just called Tsuki "Dumok's favorite Mary Sue" at one point.

Tsuki is a ridiculously written character, and she was the worst character ever in the blog before Riley came along. She is not perfect though, she is shown to be flawed, hell that's why the infamous spanking scene happened in the first place! She also isn't universally beloved as she has beef with Lewis other ladies like Kriti and Laranya.

Speaking of Riley, if I were riffing Alien Dice in 2017 I would've called Riley a Mary Sue probably. Almost like being a "Mary Sue" is not the worst character trait, even if it is pretty bad.

Dominic Deegan (Dominic Deegan)

You could dig up countless examples from early days of the comic where I call Deegan a Mary Sue or Gary Stu.

I admit, Deegan is definitely Mookie's bitchboy and the fact he's saved the world several times and he's stated to be Right About EVERYTHING does have some Gary Stu qualities buuuuuut, I've actually done some thinking and Deegan isn't actually that hateable as a person. Yes he is arrogant snobfuck, but unlike someone like Mora, he doesn't treat his friends like shit. He is a misanthropist but not a cynical asshole. He likes to crack jokes sometimes and characters sometimes cringe at those jokes, that's why Punchline Face exists.

On top of that, Deegan losing control of his emotions is something Mookie is actually aware of. Like he did apologize at the end of Battle of Barthis for getting so mad over Serk Brakkis's misdeeds. It's just that Deegan's outbursts outside of that arc are never called out. That, and I have actually felt bad for him or even had to defend him sometimes. Also he isn't in charge of forgiving Stoneraper for his rape at any point either.

Where my biggest problem lies with Deegan is his powers. He is so goddamn overpowered, you'd think he could beat anyone. It's also that Deegan has never actually lost in a fight, even if he has been betrayed. His powers are not defined and he has stopped existential threats by himself. He just becomes a generic shonen protagonist when he isn't in a grounded environment, and that's the problem. If those elements didn't exist, and his searing ability was just an ability to see to the future, I would be speaking a different tone about him. Deegan should have been corrupted by the amount of power he possesses a long time ago. I think the lack of infallibility on his part does make him close to Mary Sue but even then that's like...hundred miles away.

Luna Travoria (Dominic Deegan)

I say she is a Mary Sue because she creates a formula for potion that turns sand into water, among other things.

Thus far, Luna is probably the closest to an actual Mary Sue. She is actually far worse when it comes to character shilling than Deegan is, especially in the most recent arc as of the writing of this comic. There is also the fact she used to be a nobody, but after being thrust into Maltak arc, we learn she is the CHOSEN ONE and the reason she has tusks is because of a curse created by Shintula Chief that turned gave a bunch of babies tusks. There's also the fact she's somehow the only good person in her family of assholes. She also cries even more than Mora does. We know Luna used to hate herself and she was very suicidal, but she eventually gets shoveled in endless praise and Dominic's support. Unlike Deegan, she is very rarely shown to be wrong about something. Even when she loses her pregnancy it's constantly stated to be a good thing.

Her constant crying and occasional tusk discourse is the only thing that reminds us of her old depressed self. I get that Mooks wanted to make an inspiring story, but instead it creates a picture of a person who is using their abuse and depression to dodge criticism and constantly demand for praise. But even if you asked me if Luna was a Mary Sue, I would still say "Kinda". The reason for that is the tusk discourse, and as a result she frequently gets insulted and distrusted and even other orcs don't like her due to her tusks. And it's not like there is a crowd of men wanting to fuck her.

Heather Brown/Spinnerette (Spinnerette)

I called her a Mary Sue because she has fool's luck, basically she is able to dodge any attack and misfortune by being a dumbass.

Heather is a dumbass who has things ALWAYS work out for her no matter what when realistically she should have destroyed herself. I agree with that. On top of that, she is a Trend Lesbian who doesn't understand what being attracted to women means, and she treats her girlfriend who is slowly dying like an object of attraction rather than someone she cares about.

Honestly Spinnerette at this point has much bigger problems than Heather. She has better chemistry with Sarah Nicole than her own GF, so she is not completely hateable but also she lacks humanity. Even when she does something stupid, she is easily forgiven.

Spinny is not Mary Sue, she is just gimmicky, much like every other character Kraw writes.

Now it's time to get into the webcomic with the most compelling arguments for Mary Sues, Gene Catlow.

Cotton Taylor (Gene Catlow)

The problem with Cotton is that, in a comic called Gene Catlow, he takes the center stage for the first arc. The problem is, the world of Gene Catlow isn't established before Cotton gets his powers. We are shown all his flaws and personal issues after he drinks Coffee^2. We're only shown his tendency to yell at people and be hyperactive, when after he drinks his coffee we also learn he has a tendency for violence, doesn't hesitate killing, and hell, we only learn way way way later in the comic that he grew up an orphan. With how long Gene Catlow ended up being, a slow start would have really paid off with Cotton, but don't have him hog the spotlight for being so early. The start would also make him eventually gaining his powers more interesting, since we now know Cotton has issues, and are looking forward to if he can handle that power responsibly.

I think the Mary Sue accusations come from the fact Cotton isn't called out enough when he does stupid shit. Gene and Catwhis only get mad at him when Cotton really wants to know about the Stagglers, which the audience also wants to know about because they never explain those fucking things until it's really late.

Other than that and Cotton never really struggling with the extent of his powers, I don't think he is a Mary Sue. In fact, I do feel bad for him because the rest of the comic pretty much cucks him. His position as the savior of the bunnies is taken over by not only Clayton, a rando who worked for Matt most of his life, but also Michelle, and speaking of...

Michelle (Gene Catlow)

In my original riff I treat Michelle like the second coming of Satan but in retrospect, I actually think she is a cute and funny character who actually helps people rather than try to convert them to join some stupid Friendship Islandian cause. However, I still think that she is completely unfitting to the comic in terms of her tone. She feels like a kid appeal character in a comic that regularly references sex and gore. She is also really really powerful even when she isn't born.

Michelle is not a Mary Sue mainly because there are times when even Albert knows to pull back on Michelle. Like she completely stops appearing towards the end due to her going through the process of being born and just being absolutely miserable. If we had ever seen her alive and in the flesh, I might be speaking a different tone entirely, but don't worry, she is somehow not as omnipresent as our next characters.

Gene and Catwhis (Gene Catlow)

Gene and Catwhis are really fucking powerful, any person forced to debate them in power scale context will lose their sanity. I have not forgotten about this infamous scene.

But even then, Gene and Catwhis are both shown to have enough flaws to dodge the Mary Sue allegations. Well okay, Gene is the flawed one because of how he is affected by his ancestor who's constantly trying to bring out Gene's primal rage, which causes Catwhis to go "remember to not kill anyone dear" whenever a single wrinkle appears in Gene's face.

Catwhis on the other hand, she is like a fusion of Mora and Luna. She is openly abusive towards Gene, and she often gets into squabbles with him over the pettiest shit. Sometimes you don't know if she loves Gene. She never gets called out at any point like Gene sometimes gets called out. And most of the time she goes on hypocritical ra ra speeches and never considers other people's opinions. If "never considers other people's opinions" makes someone a Mary Sue, does that mean every Twitter user is a Mary Sue?

That unrelated tangent aside, I don't really have too many arguments against Catwhis being a Mary Sue. The only reason I really don't call her that is that out of all the spy cams in this comic, she detects Matt's bullshit the least, the only time she detected anything Matt did was when he abused Borzoi, which reminded her of the "abuse" she received at Matt's hands. As far as Spycam Moments are concerned, that is actually kind of justified, as she is a repositor and all. And her repository skills are more well defined than Deegan's seer powers.

But, if there is one thing I would call a Mary Sue in this blog without a doubt, it wouldn't be one character, it wouldn't even be a character, but rather a concept of a group.

Family of Intelligent Life (Gene Catlow)

Where do I begin? Family of Intelligent Life is early on established to be the STRONGEST GROUP OF ALL TIME. and that is not even getting into all the things those fucking suits do. Or what Simmy does. Or how many allies the Family has. Or how they employ child soldiers and it's somehow a good thing. Or how they resurrected the dead. Or how easy everyone somehow gets along. Or how the Family is able to detect ANYTHING. Family of Intelligent Life is a testament to Albert Temple's anti-individualism. It's a group fallacy that states if there are a lot of people doing stuff together, nothing can go wrong and they never disagree on anything. They don't even have any roles, and they can give each other their abilities on a whim. The ONLY flaw the group is ever shown to have is the possibility of Gene's Primal Rage spreading to other members, but Simmy is shown to work on that.

The fact they're able to get into each other's heads so easily without any conflict is ridiculous. Can you imagine if one of them found out about a controversial political opinion Crendall had? Or that Cat Sneed likes to use the Bear Equivalent of N-word in casual conversation which offends Eubie and his GF? Or that they all can't agree on what their favorite incarnation of Sonic the Hedgehog is? I don't want to know every opinion my friends have on everything, what makes you think I would want to share a headspace with a bunch of strangers?

There's also the fact, any sort of critique of The Family is treated as a byproduct of Ignorance. Even when Matt's family critiques it, they can't actually make constructive arguments against it and just say "IT'S DUMB." No offense to Taria.

Everything I laid out to you is what makes Family of Intelligent Life Mary Sue. It has implausible levels of competence and is capable of amazing unique powers, they are universally liked and respected by everyone our narrative considers good, and possess virtually no flaws. It is Albert Temple's collectivist wish fulfillment.

But if I was forced to name a Mary Sue that was actually a character, nobody fits that better than Derukui the Kittycat from Crash Bandicoot Retold. I'll talk more about her one day.

[goldentournesol]

The Love Hypothesis (Eight)

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: this fic is ending soon :( i’m not ready

The words on the small screen bled into each other slowly as she stared at them. Her heart was beating too fast, her throat was working too slow to deal with the rapid drying of her mouth. The short breaths came too quick until her knees couldn’t keep her up anymore. She hit the mattress with a thud, clutching her phone tightly to her chest. 

“Y/N/N, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Kira rushed to her side, taking a seat beside her on the bed.

Mark quickly got her a glass of water and she sipped on it. A few moments later, Y/N gathered her scattered sanity and looked at Kira.

“I need to tell you something, but I don’t want you to get mad.” She took a deep breath, bracing herself.

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Kira grabbed Y/N’s hand in her own and squeezed it reassuringly.

“None of this is real. Spencer and I aren’t really dating and we aren’t in love.” Y/N said, her voice wobbly.

Kira scoffed, “The hell you aren’t. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and the way you look at him.”

Y/N shook her head, “I uh…I mean, well yes, I may have some...big feelings for him, but none of that was supposed to happen.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Did you know about this?” Kira glanced at Mark, who stood before them.

“Yes. Okay, here’s the deal. Y/N and Reid aren’t actually dating. They were fake dating because Y/N wanted to convince you that she was over Andrew--which she was never really interested in him anyway, but you wouldn’t believe her. So, she lied and told you that she was dating Reid so that you could finally date Andrew in peace. I’m not sure what Reid’s getting out of it--I forgot to ask.” Mark rambled, explaining what she now realizes is a very ridiculous circumstance. There was a beat of uncomfortable silence while Kira was processing the information. 

She very slowly turned to Y/N, “What?” she asked. “You fake dated Spencer Reid? Spencer. Fucking. Reid.”

Y/N cleared her throat and nodded. Kira suddenly burst into laughter, standing and putting her hands on her thighs to brace herself.

“This can’t be real life. No, this is a movie with D-list actors! Or...or a poorly written fanfiction!” She exclaimed.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Kira…I didn’t think--”

“But you’ve kissed him! In front of the campus coffee shop when he disarmed that student!”

“Only because you forced me to--”

“But you sat in his lap in the lecture hall! And--and tended to his wounds and kissed him again--”

“Again because you forced me to, are we sensing a pattern here or what?”

Kira gulped and shook her head in disbelief, “I can’t believe this…you guys--you just made so much sense together. I thought it was so romantic because he had this reputation of being such a badass FBI agent but in reality he’s a sweetheart and you’re just so shy so I thought I was encouraging you to express your feelings. I never thought--gosh, I feel horrible!”

“Wait, you’re not mad at me?” Y/N said, her eyes big with wonder.

“Mad at you? No, if anything I’m mad at myself for making you do those things.” Kira frowned and pulled her in for a hug, “I do, however, think that this was a misguided, reckless decision on your part and frankly a little idiotic, but you’re my idiot and I love you. I’m truly flattered you’d do that for me. We’ll need to talk about this way more, but for now you still need to tell Reid about what happened with Carter. You were verbally harassed and sexually assaulted and you have audio proof. If the situation were reversed and something happened to Spencer, you’d want to know, right?” She had a point there.

Y/N sighed a deep, guttural sigh and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. There was no way she could continue this fake relationship with Spencer. Not when it looked like she was sleeping her way up to the top. She was just starting her career in academia--three years is nothing in the long run. She can’t start it like this…no matter how much she loved Spencer. Besides, he doesn’t even need her anymore. His funds were unfrozen and he can start researching. The grant he needed was already there. After explaining to them why Spencer agreed to fake date her, it seemed ridiculous in hindsight.

About a half hour later, Mark and Kira had to leave to attend a talk they were both interested in--Y/N had so much on her mind that it was practically impossible to feign interest in the topic. They didn’t push her to join, thankfully. Despite her loss of appetite, she made sure to eat more of the breakfast that had been sent whenever she started feeling dizzy from her thoughts. 

After forcing herself to wash her face and try to look presentable, she went down to the lobby and browsed around the convention. Small tables were lined up with people conducting and presenting all different kinds of research. It was endlessly fascinating what the human brain could come up with and it was such a shame that her spirits were so low. She would have reveled in discussing topics with fellow researchers, no matter how far their interests deviated. 

It was relatively easy to kill time until she got the text from Spencer that he’d finished his meetings and rejoiced at the fact that he’d (finally) managed to send her his location without instructions. The location was a quaint restaurant near the hotel he had the meetings at. 

A short Uber ride later and there he was, sat at a round table with red cloth and a charming candlelit centerpiece. Her heart squeezed in her chest more with each step she took to follow the host to where he was. 

His face broke out into a grin as soon as he saw her, “Hey, you made it.” His smile was blinding and it shattered her.

She halfheartedly smiled when he squeezed her hand in greeting as she took her seat across from him. One squeeze and she pulled away, resorting to hiding her fidgeting hands under the table. If he thought her behavior was strange, his expression didn’t let on.

“How did your meetings go?” She stammered her way through the question, eager to get his attention onto anything else but her.

He shrugged, “Boring, standard meetings with higher-ups. I don’t remember people in academia being so pretentious when I was getting my degrees.” He quipped, the corners of his mouth raising. He seemed to be in a good mood. She hated to be the one to ruin it, so she stalled. They engaged in more small talk, but mostly she focused on trying not to bring the mood down.

But halfway through dinner, Spencer visibly tensed at her reserved behavior. Of course he’d noticed, nothing could get past him. He had let it slide, knowing that the day before had been difficult for her, but nothing he was saying was cheering her up. He couldn’t even get a smile to reach her eyes and it made concern pool in his gut. 

After watching her toss a pea back and forth with a fork, he finally asked, “Is everything okay?”

Her heart got caught in her throat and no amount of swallowing could get rid of it, so she nodded and smiled a little. But Spencer, ever the profiler, saw right through her.

“It’s about the funds being released, isn’t it?” He was naively hoping that she’d forget about it--or pretend like it wasn’t a part of their deal. She released a sigh and her shoulders deflated, even if he wasn’t actively reading her body language he could tell that she didn’t want to have to talk about this.

“Our time is up. We made a deal. We both got what we wanted out of this…arrangement.” She was speaking pragmatically, trying her best to remove her feelings from the equation as if that made it any easier. She was made aware of what everyone thought of this relationship, and it was easy to say that people’s opinions of her didn’t matter, but in reality they did. She wanted to succeed in academia because of her hard work. Panic slid its way through her veins as she thought back to yesterday’s events and shivered slightly when she remembered the feeling of Carter’s slimy hands on her.

A certain emotion she couldn’t place passed over Spencer’s face a split second before a mask of indifference took its place, “Right…you’re right.” 

His posture stiffened as he recognized the extent to which he’d lost his objectivity. He’d fallen for this woman. Hard. And now she was pretending like none of what they’ve been through ever mattered. He couldn’t show his emotions, but something deep, deep down in his gut felt off. His gut was always right. She wasn’t being genuine, her tells were too obvious but he didn’t push.

“I think it’s time we…uh, ‘break up’, which is a weird thing to say considering we were never actually together. But yeah, people will stop seeing us together and they’ll eventually think that things didn’t work out and there will be something new they can gossip about,” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her shaking leg under the table told him otherwise. Spencer cast a cursory glance over the restaurant just to check that no one was using her to mess with him, just out of habit, and he found nothing.

 “I’m so, so happy for you for finally being able to research non-pharmacological treatments methods for schizophrenia. And I want to thank you, for all you’ve done for me. All the dinners, the coffees, the moral support…” she paused, her eyes stinging and welling up with tears, “and just in general, everything. Thank you and I’m sorry. I really have to go right now.” She picked up a tissue from the table because she would unfurl into a sobbing mess as soon as she stepped foot outside the restaurant.

“Y/N,” he said softly, concern growing more in his chest with each second, “if you need anything, really, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I will always be there for you.” He reminded her softly.

On her way out, she selfishly tipped his head up to her new height and allowed their lips to meet for a few seconds. One last kiss. Before she left the man who owned her heart in the middle of a restaurant in a strange city.

---

Spencer never came back to the hotel she was staying at, where the convention was being held. She didn’t know for sure, but she assumed he’d stayed at the hotel where his meetings were held. Today was the last day in Boston, it had been exactly two days since she’d broken up with Spencer. Her days consisted of alternating between crying and convincing herself she was okay enough to converse with other humans. She thankfully didn’t have to stay far from home for much longer, but the overwhelming sadness was becoming too much to bear.

“You don’t look too good,” Kira said, affectionately grabbing her shoulder after she had spent the last 10 minutes conversing with another grad student from Oxford University at one of the many tables in the conference hall. Their research was similar and the other student offered some insight on what research was like in the UK and if it was any different. At least that’s what Y/N had caught from the conversation. She’d been living inside her own head and on her face was a permanent stony expression.

Y/N shook her head and whispered, “I-I can’t do this, I’m sorry. I thought I could try and be normal but I can’t.” Kira’s face crumpled in sympathy, but she didn’t want that anymore. All she wanted was completely off limits.

Devastation was hard to explain to someone who hasn’t felt it the way you have. Sure, everyone’s experienced some sort of it, but none like your own. Y/N’s devastation was unique only to her. Her annihilation was of her own doing, which only ruined her further. She could only helplessly follow Kira as she led her outside to a quiet courtyard. There was the sound of the soothing trickling of water from the fountain before them.

“Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” Kira spoke softly as Y/N gripped the bench where they were sitting. 

She took a shaky breath, “I feel…I feel like I can’t breathe right. I feel like I want to cry. I feel like I might never be happy in another relationship after him. I feel like I will never stop wanting to be with him. And…I can’t help but feel like breaking up with him was the worst thing I could have done.” A small sob escaped her as she confessed. She expected to feel lighter, but she didn’t.

“Keep going.” Kira prompted with a nod. She was always a good listener. Y/N’s fingertips hurt from gripping the bench so hard.

“I feel like some moments between us were real. At first it all began as a ruse to fool you and to fool the board. And it was so awkward at the beginning, believe me. But afterwards, it all came naturally. Being with him felt so natural, kind of how you don’t even think of breathing…it just happens. It just happened with Spencer. I didn’t have to think about it anymore. Eventually, I was kissing him because I wanted to, not because I wanted anyone to see us kissing. I wanted to hold his hand,” she choked on another small sob, “I wanted him to hug me. I wanted to tell him stupid little jokes to see his eyes roll before he’d counter with an even stupid-er joke. God--sorry, that’s so cheesy.” She hastily wiped her tear striped cheeks with the backs of her hands before tilting her head up to the sky and focusing on her breathing.

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N/N. You’re heartbroken and in love. You deserve to want those things, you deserve to have them.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever love anyone the same way again.” Y/N confessed, the tears leaking out like a faucet at this point, gravity taking them into her hairline as she rested her head against the back of the bench.

“What if you don’t have to?” Kira asked.

“What do you mean?” Y/N sniffled.

“What if you don’t have to love anyone else? Why’d you break up with him? How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way?” Kira’s questions felt like they were on their way to open a can of feelings she didn't really want to open. Y/N hesitated to answer before she sat upright and stared off into the distance.

“You don’t understand, if he doesn’t feel the same way, I would be beyond devastated. I’m just protecting myself. I don’t want to be the student that slept her way to the top. I want to earn it. And I feel so shaken up over the whole thing with Carter.” She explained, mostly to herself than to Kira.

“I get that, hun, what happened absolutely sucks, but you’re devastated now. How protected do you feel?” Kira asked and it felt like a jab in Y/N’s side, enough to make her chuckle a bit.

“Not at all.” She huffed in response.

“What did he say to you when you broke it off?”

“He…he told me that he would be there for me no matter what. And that I could always reach out to him.” Thankfully the tears have stopped, but the heaviness in her chest remained.

“Alright, let’s look at it from a different angle. The man has what--two PhD’s?”

“Three…and two BA’s.” Y/N provided.

“Okay, so we know he’s a scientist and scientists value proof. What else was he? An FBI agent. Not just any FBI agent, no. He was part of the BAU. You know, the people who analyze behavior for a living?? He has like over 15 years of experience in the FBI, you know what that means? It means he values justice. And we know he cares about you, enough to insist that if you ever needed him you could reach out. Guess what, Y/N? You need him.”

Y/N shook her head, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I mean you need to tell him about what went down with Carter. You have hard evidence. You’ll feel less guilty over what happened and he’ll be able to help. Who’s better to have by your side?” She reasoned.

She was right, Y/N knew it. But she was still so ashamed and felt so guilty that those thoughts overrode anything else. Exhaling heavily and bouncing her knee, she ran through what would happen if and when she told him.

“You’re right, but…I don’t even know where he is--if he’s here or if he’s back in DC. I can’t exactly just call him up and ask him where he is.” Y/N moved onto the next phase of fidgeting and started picking at her nails.

“Well…does he use an online calendar or something?” Kira asked and Y/N shook her head.

“No, he doesn’t really need reminders for events. Although he can be a little bit scatterbrained at times, it wouldn’t hurt to use a calendar.” Y/N nervously rambled.

“You know who might have his location?” Y/N looked at Kira curiously, “Remember when I helped out this redhead, Kristen, track down a bunch of participants for her to interview in like our first year of grad school? Yeah, she’s the secretary of the psych department’s chair now and should know about the professors’ schedules. She owes me one. I can cash it in right now.” Kira raised her brows in an offer.

“You would do that for me?” Y/N stared at her.

“Please, you fake dated a professor and fell in love with him by accident for me, it’s the least I could do.” She laughed slightly, already tapping away at her phone. 

A short phone call with Kristen later and a few minutes where they allowed her to check for any emails or reminders from Spencer and his location was sent.

He was at a dinner with a few professors from Princeton. And she absolutely had to go see him before she lost any steam.

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