#we all remember where we were when this dropped

[parfaitblogs]

the christmas waltz ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your toddler is finally old enough to partake in christmas too, and spencer is determined for it to be perfect. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: girl dad!spencer. gentle parenting... she throws a tantrum. or two. authors own christmas traditions forced upon this unsuspecting reid!family. not sorry. word count: 1.2k a/n: happy girl dad!spencer to all that freaking celebrate... tweaked the baby reid idea only a little!! first christmas she remembers?

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

It was feet pattering swiftly against the wood outside your bedroom door that tore you away from your husband. Spencer's hand dropping from your hip as he rolls onto his back, head turning to face the door just as the knob twisted, and in bounded an incredibly excited two-year-old (two and three quarters, as she so incessantly reminds you). 

"Daddy! Mommy!" your ecstatic daughter exclaims, and Spencer's quick to hoist her up onto the bed, allowing her to settle into the space now between the two of you on her knees. Or, more accurately, the space she forced you to create. "Come on, come on!"

You share a look with Spencer, eyebrows raised, and he huffs a small laugh, before deciding to play into the tease you no doubt were planning out in your head. 

"Where are we going, Darce?"

The two-year-old's lips frown, and she jerks her gaze rapidly between you and Spencer, eyes wide. "What? It's Christmas!" Except, consonants still weren't her best friend, and Christmas sounded closer to Cwimas than anything.  

"Christmas?" Spencer turns his head back to you. 

"It's Christmas?" you ask him.

"No. That doesn't make sense. We had Christmas last year."

"Yeah. Darcy, are you sure it's Christmas?" you return your gaze to your daughter, who's lower lip is beginning to wobble, for she can't really decipher if you're joking or not. 

"But—but last night," she sniffles, eyes wide, and you instantly feel awful, your heart shattering in your chest at the sight. 

"We're kidding, Bambi," Spencer replies, clearly feeling as bad as you were, looping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his lap. "Merry Christmas."

Too easy to please, her face lights back up, and she starts wiggling her hips excitedly in his lap, speaking far too quickly for either of you to decipher properly. The verbal stumbling over 'stockings' and 'presents' were all you truly had to determine what she was asking, and Spencer was happily complying. 

She took off the second Spencer set her back down on the ground upon entering the living room, clambering onto the couch and almost vibrating with excitement as you take a seat next to her. 

"Do you want to go first?" you ask her. 

Though, it's a stupid question, for she was taking that as her confirmation to go right ahead, and you didn't have the heart to take her excitement away twice in less than ten minutes that Christmas morning. 

You had two key traditions Christmas morning — stockings from Santa before breakfast, family presents after. Spencer had ran through the Christmas morning rules with your toddler when he was tucking her into bed the night before, at an hour that was far too late for her. Getting a near three-year-old to sleep the night before Christmas had proved to be an impossible mission.

It didn't stop the tantrum she threw when she was told to put down the big box shaped present adorning not her name, but your own. 

You were barely five minutes into preparing breakfast when you heard the crying begin from the living room, and your head lifted from the croissants you were cutting open.

Spencer was crouched down to Darcy's level, his hands resting gently on her hips, as she splutters in front of him, head whipping from side to side to avoid eye contact with him. 

"Hey, Darcy, honey," he says, thumbs rubbing circles into her hips. "Why're you crying?" She doesn't reply, and the sight hurts your heart. "Bambi, I need you to tell me what's wrong."

She stammers out something you can't really hear, only picking up the words, 'mommy', 'present' and 'want', but it seems she's speaking a language Spencer understands perfectly, because he translates it back to her. 

"You're upset because you want to give mommy her present?" 

Darcy nods her head, and despite the miserable atmosphere, your heart warms and your lips tug into a smile. 

"We will," he promises. "We've just gotta eat some breakfast first, okay? Gotta get this tummy nice and full so you can have all the energy to watch mommy open it." One of his hands pats her stomach, and you watch as she squirms and lets a giggle out past her otherwise pouty lips. "Was that a giggle?"

At the call-out, she immediately goes back to pouting, "No."

"No?" he parrots. "That's too bad. Only happy girls get to give presents on Christmas Day. Are you not happy?"

You have to watch in awe every time Spencer coaxes your daughter through her meltdowns, because he is just so gentle and so perfect with her, it's almost Earth shattering. 

The promise of you opening your present from Darcy (and Spencer) first, and an extra chocolatey hot chocolate with breakfast was enough to calm the two-year-old down enough to eat, and soon enough she was sliding the box with your name on it across the floor to you in the living room once more. 

She stumbles behind it, before she climbs onto the couch again, watching you with wide eyes and keen interest. 

"Do you like it? Do you like it? Do you like it?" she repeats over and over again before you had even finished tearing the wrapping paper off. 

And like it you did. 

A scrapbook, complete with the neat signing of Spencer's name on the front, and the scrawl of Darcy's beneath it, a few dozen pictures, and drawings as detailed as a two-year-old could make them on the pages. 

"Did you make this?" you turn to her, your eyes (and heart) filled with so much love and warmth you think you might explode. 

She nods, excitedly. "At daycare! Daddy helped me keep it a secret."

"Thank you. I love it," you scoop her up into your arms the second she wriggles closer. "I love you, beautiful girl. You're so talented."

Gift exchange was the most exciting part of the morning, and an already overwhelmed toddler being told she couldn't play with her new toys because she needed to get ready to go see her grandparents was akin to taking the entire Christmas holiday away, apparently. 

Thus, another tantrum.

Exhausted from trying to keep the girl from collapsing in a fit of screaming and tears, you're finally dressing her, the sparkly red dress she had begged you for falling over her body.

"Did you call your mom?" you ask Spencer from your kneeling position on the floor in front of Darcy, slipping her shoes onto her feet. 

"Gran'ma?" Darcy asks, her voice still hoarse from crying.

"Yeah, honey."

"Not yet. I was going to do it tonight once we're home," Spencer replies to you. "So that Darcy can talk to her too."

You tap Darcy's legs once her shoes are on, and she jumps off the couch, bouncing over to Spencer by the front door. "Can I see Gran'ma?" she asks. 

"No, Bambi. We're just gonna talk to her on the phone," he shakes his head. "But we're seeing Nan."

"Mommy's mommy?"

You smile for the millionth time that morning. 

"Yes, mommy's mommy," he laughs, crouching down in front of her. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes!" she nods, enthusiastically. "Do you like my dress, daddy?"

"I do," he answers. "You look like a princess."

Darcy squeals when he picks her up at the end of his sentence, giggling, and flailing her arms around as he settles her on his hip. 

"Bambi princess," she corrects for him, and neither of you have the heart to tell her Bambi's a prince. 

Instead, Spencer nods, a serious look on his face as he ponders her words. "Yes. Bambi princess."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[kaminocasey]

Hey! I'm gonna take advantage of your charity and incredible talent and ask me some Silco stuff, and I will make it very personal.

Im just a sucker for angsty fluff, so I was thinking something in the lines of reader works either in some restaurant where Silco goes or actually works in the last drop. And she's just having a rough couple of days and Silco finds out about it and just wants to help (maybe he gets frustrated because of it all, and goes all Silco, you know what I mean? Damn I'm gonna shut up now). But we all know Silco is not the most affectionate man, or at least shows it in weird (?) ways. I feel like it would be better (?) if they didn't have a relationship yet. But I'll leave it to your brilliance to do as you please, I have complete trust in your skills.

But remember, you don't have to do this if you don't feel like it of course.

Anyway, to much information already. So good luck, love your work, that brain of yours and you in general ❤️💙💛🤍

PS- do not allow me to make more requests, I will make them long, weird and I'll keep remembering more stuff to add and the next thing you know it's a full blown fic 🤣

Take All Your Sins

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, love!!! I was excited to do this one!!! This is going to be a two parter or MORE for SURE. <3 ilysm thank you again for your trust in me!!!

Summary: You work in the Last Drop and very close to Vander. What happens if Silco comes along and ruins that?

Pairing: Silco x Reader

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst, sweet Silco, protective Vander, alcohol

Taglist Form | Arcane Masterlist

“If you have something else to do, I can finish those.” You come into the doorway of the kitchen, nodding toward the dishes that he’s doing. 

“I got ‘em. Almost done.” The older man smiles at you.

A few years ago, Vander gave you a place to stay when he found you out on the streets and ever since then, you were basically inseparable. His kids were like your own. 

“Rough night, huh?” Vander asks as you lean in the doorway, keeping an eye on the place in case more patrons came in. 

The Last Drop is usually busy this time of night, especially on this day of the week. But it’s like a ghost town right now and you can’t seem to figure out why.

“Rough week.” You sigh, crossing your arms. 

“Do you need a couple days off?” Vander asks, genuinely.

He always made sure you were taken care of, which you appreciate, but sometimes it feels like he does too much for others, and never lets anyone do anything for him. You’re bound to change that though. His birthday is coming up and you’ve been saving up for something special that will be from you and the kids. 

“Nah, I’m-” You start but hear the door open.

“You got it?” Vander asks and you nod with a grin and turn around to greet the customer, letting the kitchen door swing shut.

“What can I get ya?” You smile at the older man, who makes you do a subtle double take.

“Whiskey. Neat, please.” He smiles. 

He’s got dark hair, a partially scarred face, one blue eye and the other dark black with an orange iris that makes him look incredibly menacing. He’s wearing an open, fancy peacoat with a buttoned vest and tie. Who the hell is this guy?

His eyes rake over you as you approach the bar where he sits. 

“Haven’t seen you before.” You smile, politely. 

“I don’t get out much.” He takes his coat off and sits it down on the stool next to him. “I… work a lot.” 

His voice is silky and you can’t help but want to hear him say more. 

“What do you do?” You ask as you pour his drink. 

“I own my own business.” He tells you and takes the drink when you slide it to him. 

The way he says it, makes you think he doesn’t want to answer anymore questions about himself. 

“What’s your name?” He asks softly. 

You tell him and he takes a sip, keeping his blue eye on you. You smile softly, unsure of what to say.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, after he finishes off his drink. 

You go to pour him another but he puts his hand over his drink and shakes his head.

“Thanks.” You put the bottle back down and then take the empty glass from him, sitting it in the sink. “What’s yours?” 

“Silco. Do you like working here?” He asks, not missing a beat. 

You nod. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And you like Vander?” 

You nod. “Who doesn’t?” 

He chuckles, glancing around subtly. “Who doesn’t, indeed?”

“What are you doing after work?” He asks. 

Oh… of course. He thinks you’re going to put out- 

“I’m not trying to fuck you.” He tells you, as if he can read your mind while he stands up and puts his coat back on.

“You’re not?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to, but that’s not why I asked.” He smirks.

You both stare at each other for a moment. His eyes fall to your lips before coming back up to your eyes.

“So… the real reason is?” You cross your arms.

“I think you’re beautiful and I’ve not been on a proper date in years.” Silco shrugs, placing a hand on the back of the barstool. 

You go warm in the face before looking down at his slender fingers and immediately can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like inside-

“I’ll be by at 11.” He tells you, snapping your thoughts back to the present as he places a few cogs onto the bar. 

“Um. Alright.” You nod, giving a kind smile. 

He stares at you for another short moment before giving you a smile back and then leaving. Just as the door closes, Vander walks out and sees you staring at the door, breaking you out of the trance that Silco seemed to have put you in.

“Everything okay?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You look up at him, smiling a little dreamily. It’s not something you’re used to. Normally, when customers ask you out, you brush them off and pay them no mind. But Silco… he managed to get you to pay attention. 

“All good. Um… I have a date after work.” You go warm in the face at the word ‘date’. 

It’s not like you don’t date… you do… just not consistently. The last date you went on was a year ago. It didn’t go well so you decided to just focus on work.

“With the customer that just came in? Who is he?” Vander’s eyebrows raise in surprise, knowing that you haven’t gone out with someone in a long time.

“Just… some guy.” You shrug, starting to wipe down the bar. 

Vander chuckles. “Alright. Keep your secrets. I was young once, too.”

You laugh with him, your thoughts immediately going back to Silco’s unmatching eyes and the way they softened at the sight of you. 

“You can go get ready if you want. I can finish here.” Vander smirks. 

You roll your eyes. “Thanks. I owe you.” 

“Nah. Get outta here.” He nods toward the door that leads to the upstairs. 

You pat him on the shoulder as you walk past him, heading upstairs to go shower. You look at the clock and see that it reads 9:30. That should give you plenty of time to get ready. You don’t take particularly long showers. 

As you turn on the water, you climb into the shower, letting the water flow over your body as you stand there for a moment before starting to wash your body and hair. You still can’t stop thinking about the older man. He had to be about Vander’s age, right? You wonder if they know each other. Perhaps after you get to know Silco a little more, you’ll introduce them. 

After your shower, you dry your hair the best you can and then settle on a dress that you’d saved up forever to buy just because. What better excuse to wear it than on a date with an extremely attractive, slightly intimidating, man? 

At ten til 11, you make your way back down to the bar. Vander and Benzo both let out a whistle at the sight of you.

“Don’t you clean up nice?” Vander grins. 

You shrug, going warm in the face from the attention. “I guess.” 

You sit up on the bar stool next to Benzo. You glance over at the door and then back at Vander. 

“Do you want something to loosen your nerves?” Vander teases. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” You roll your eyes, amused.

“Who’s this hot date with?” Benzo nudges you with his elbow. 

You go warm in the face all over again, thinking about Silco. “Just some older guy… he’ll be here any minute.” 

They accept that answer and continue their conversation from before about business stuff that you don’t really mind yourself with. You pretty much just show up and do your job and do exactly what Vander tells you to do and then go back upstairs and sleep. And then repeat. 

The door opens moments later, and the three of you look up to find Silco walking in. You can’t help but give him a sweet smile. He smirks at you and pauses by the door.

“Are you ready-” He starts.

“Silco.” Vander growls. 

“Hello, Vander.” Silco’s eyes fall past you to the man behind you. “Lovely establishment you have here.”

You turn to Vander, confused. “You know each other?”

“Oh yes, we do.” Silco walks toward you, wrapping an arm around your lower back, looking you up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.” 

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Vander comes around the bar and starts toward Silco but Benzo gets up quickly from the stool and stops him. 

You look between Silco and Vander, still confused.

“I think that’s for her to decide.” Silco smirks up at Vander who stands almost a foot above him.

You turn to Vander, with furrowed brows. This man is the one who gave you life again, the man who is like a father to you. The man you owe your life to. If he says you shouldn’t go… then shouldn’t you listen to him?

[shitsndgiggs]

Hey there is this one fic where you did kenan going through our text messages can you do one where we are going through his text messages

Ty🐧

TABLES TURNED - KENAN YILDIZ

You reacting to Kenan’s DMs

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind where you stay in pajamas and lounge around with no particular plans.

Kenan and I were sprawled on the couch, his head resting on my lap as I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair.

I had my phone in one hand, scrolling aimlessly, when I suddenly remembered the TikTok trend that Kenan and I had done the other day—where he read through my DMs and reacted to the chaos in them.

The memory of his over-the-top reactions, dramatic sighs, and occasional bouts of jealousy still made me laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Kenan asked, tilting his head up to look at me, his brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Oh, nothing,” I replied, grinning mischievously. “Just thinking about how hilarious you were during the DM thing.”

Kenan groaned. “Don’t remind me. Your DMs were a lot.”

“Exactly,” I said, poking his cheek. “And now it’s your turn.”

His eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

“You heard me,” I said, grabbing his phone from the coffee table before he could react. “We’re doing ‘My Girlfriend Reacts to My DMs.’”

Kenan shot up from my lap, attempting to snatch the phone back, but I dodged him, clutching it like my life depended on it. “Oh, no you don’t!” I teased. “You had your fun with my DMs—this is payback.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, trying to sound casual, but I caught the nervous edge in his voice.

“Kenan,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly. Too quickly. “But you know how people can be in there… It’s not worth your time!”

“Oh, it’s definitely worth my time,” I shot back, unlocking his phone. “Now let’s see what we’ve got here.”

I started scrolling through his Instagram DMs while he sat next to me, shifting uncomfortably.

The first few messages were harmless—just fans expressing their admiration for his game or wishing him luck.

“Aw, this one’s sweet,” I said, showing him a message from a little kid asking for advice on how to become a football player. “See? This isn’t so bad.”

Kenan relaxed a bit. “Yeah, those are fine. That’s most of them, honestly.”

“Hmm, let’s see about that.” I scrolled further, and that’s when the real fun began.

“You’re so fine. If you ever need a rebound, hit me up. I’d take care of you better than your girl ever could.”

I read it aloud, my voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Oh, really? ‘Better than your girl ever could,’ huh?”

Kenan’s jaw dropped. “Who even says that?! Delete it. Block her. I don’t know her!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“No! Absolutely not,” he said, looking genuinely distressed. “She’s delusional. You know that.”

Next DM: “I have dreams about you, Kenan. Just one night is all I’d need.”

I choked on a laugh. “What do you even say to this?”

“I don’t say anything!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “I don’t even open them!”

“Sure, Mr. Modesty,” I teased. “I bet you love the attention.”

“Only from you,” he said, trying to butter me up.

Another one: A voice memo. I played it, and an overly dramatic voice purred, “Hey, Kenan. Just saw your game… You looked so hot out there. Maybe we could celebrate your win sometime? My treat.”

I looked at him with a mock-serious expression. “So… do you take her up on the offer, or…?”

Kenan groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Y/N, stop. This is so embarrassing.”

“No way,” I said, grinning. “This is amazing.”

Then came the kicker: A series of messages from someone who had clearly been trying to shoot her shot for months. Each one was thirstier than the last.

The most recent read: “If you ever get tired of your girlfriend, just know I’m waiting for my chance. I’d treat you like the king you are, baby.”

I dramatically gasped. “Kenan, how could you not reply to such a devoted admirer?”

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” he defended himself. “You know I only care about you.”

I leaned in close, pretending to scrutinize him. “Hmm. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

By the time I finished going through the DMs, Kenan looked like he’d been through the wringer.

His face was flushed, his hands in his hair, and he kept muttering about how unfair this was.

“Relax,” I said, setting his phone down. “It’s all in good fun.”

“For you, maybe,” he grumbled, but I could see the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You survived,” I teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “And now I know you’re not secretly entertaining your fan club.”

“You didn’t have to do all that to know that,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around me. “You’re the only one I want, Y/N. Always.”

I couldn’t help but smile, my heart melting a little at his sincerity. “Good. Because I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

“Same goes for me,” he said, pulling me closer.

“But just so you know… I’m never letting you go through my DMs again.”

“Deal,” I said, laughing. “But only because I already got the content I needed.”

“You’re impossible,” Kenan muttered, but his grin gave him away as he kissed me.

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ RAFAYEL | paint (christmas special)

── ◜rafayel x fem!reader — mini one shot 1.3k words ◜Rafayel prepares a Christmas gift that she has been waiting for for a long time. — author's note here | christmas specials from the rest of the LIs on my profile

"Rafayel? We have to go. Come on." She ran through the halls until she reached the front door, waiting her boyfriend to reach her a couple of seconds later. "I almost forgot dessert," she whispered to herself as she started walking to the kitchen.

Until Rafayel got in her way. She frowned in confusion and tried to step aside but it didn't work. "Can you move? I forgot dessert," she said, thinking it was one of his usual pranks.

"We can't go out." He said quickly, not really wanting to make too much of a fuss. He knew how excited his girlfriend was to be able to attend this meeting, and she had been waiting weeks for Rafayel to meet her friends.

"What are you talking about?"

"The streets are closed because of the storm." He grimaced and felt guilty as he saw her face turned into disappointment.

"What? But this morning I saw the news, it said that…" She didn't finish the sentence. She had seen the weather that morning, everything pointed to snow but other than that it was nothing serious. When it turned into a storm? "I can't believe it!"

She groaned and dropped her bag on the floor. She felt completely disappointed, it was almost midnight and although they were already too late for the meeting, she hoped to arrive in time to eat dessert, introduce Rafayel to her friends and spend a couple of hours there before going home.

"We can stay here. It won't be so bad." Rafayel's arms wrapped around her, after all they had already been there all day. They had planned to spend the afternoon together, doing things that according to her were Christmassy and they would close their night at her friends. It was just a small change of plans.

"But I wanted you to meet my friends," she murmured in disappointment, her voice muffled as she had her face buried in Rafayel's chest.

"I can meet them later. We'll have a meeting just for that." He hated seeing her so sad. He knew this meeting was important to her, but he couldn't just stop the storm with the power of his mind.

Half an hour later she was sitting on the living room floor. She was still wearing the clothes she had chosen to to go out that day and Rafayel was in front of her watching her take spoonfuls of the dessert she had made for her friends.

"It's not that bad. We can still open the presents here." Rafayel pressed his lips against his girlfriend's forehead. He didn't know what else he could do to cheer her up.

"It's not that, it's just… You know I hate it when plans change." She made a face and looked at him.

Rafayel smiled when he saw the cream of the cake dripping from the corner of her lips. He reached out and with his index finger he took the cream before it slipped from her lips and stained her clothes.

Yes, he knew perfectly well how much she hated it when her plans changed. Rafayel always thought it was something more than just a change of plans and there was something else in his girlfriend's head.

He looked away, starting to think of something he could do to make her feel better. Letting her just sit on the rug and eat that dessert seemed to have made her feel better but she still had that pout on her lips.

Then he remembered… There was a gift he had kept in his studio and he didn't really think about giving it to her yet, not as a Christmas present at least. It was something she had asked him for a long time ago and Rafayel had simply refused after giving her a reasonable explanation.

"I have something for you." She frowned as her boyfriend got up from the floor and walked down the hall where the bedrooms and his studio were.

"What is it?" She asked taking a spoonful of the dessert again, thinking that it was simply one of the gifts he had bought her despite all the times she told him that she didn't really need anything. Finally she felt like she had had enough of that dessert. It was too much sugar and she was beginning to feel her body's rejection of it, so she decided to simply put it aside and clean any trace of sugar from her mouth.

Rafayel came back into the room a couple of minutes later. He had something in his hands and he seemed… nervous? Why did he seem nervous about a simple gift? It wasn't that she didn't appreciate it, but unless it was a pregnancy test she didn't understand his nerves. She had started joking about it since she found out that in seahorses it was the man who carried the baby.

"Here it is." He placed a gift wrapped in green paper on her lap. She looked at him waiting for some explanation, she felt like she needed some context because it was something important. "Do you remember when we started dating you asked me what you had to do to make a painting of you?"

She nodded, she remembered it perfectly because she had insisted too much until Rafayel told her that he couldn't because he didn't feel capable of capturing her beauty. Her cheeks turned red just by remembering it.

Then something clicked in her mind… she parted his lips in surprise and turned to look at Rafayel waiting for him to say something. He just looked at her with a small smile on his lips.

She tore the gift paper as fast as she could. She could feel her heart beating hard, until… She couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was a painting, of her.

It meant much more than he thought. She had wanted so much a painting of her completely made by Rafayel, but after having refused she had simply given up and stopped asking.

"You… But I thought…" She felt that the words were not coming out of her mouth. She turned to look at him waiting for something else, to explain the reason why he had decided that this was the perfect time to make a painting about her. Until she noticed something. "Where is this?"

She looked at him. She didn't recognize the background in the painting because it was focusing a bit more on her face but there was definitely some kind of cafe behind her.

"It was the first time I saw you. Do you remember?" She nodded. Of course she remembered because he had told her that story himself thousands of times.

"Of course I remember, it's just that… I can't believe it." She looked at him, feeling like she could cry at any moment. It was just a unique gift… too unique.

"I'm still think I didn't capture your beauty." She smiled. "I thought it would be a special gift. Much better than those boots you wanted."

She giggled. There were some nice black boots she had wanted a few weeks ago but had decided that it was a totally unnecessary expense.

"The boots would have been a nice gift too." Those words had come out of her mouth without thinking but in reality that gift was much better than any other. If Rafayel had simply bought the boots for her it would have been a great gift too. Anything that came from him was.

Rafayel laughed and put his arms around her to bring her closer to him. She still had her eyes on the painting he had made for her. It was her favorite painting now. "They're in the blue box," he murmured close to her ear.

She opened her eyes in surprise and looked at him. Had he bought the boots for her too? "Rafayel!"

He smiled at her excitement. He leaned in to press his lips against hers for a couple of seconds. "Merry Christmas, cutie."

[catbountry]

I feel like I should probably say something about the final TF2 comic finally coming out after seven years, considering I'd been in the fandom since 2009 and had the honor of writing a (non-canon) comic for a community update, a gig I only got because Cantsman wanted help with writing and just picked me as a good enough writer. I think that might be the thing I'm going to be most well-known for (hopefully).

A lot has changed since 2009. The community helped me improve as an artist and as a writer. I made friends through the fandom who are still my friends to this day, and we talk on a near daily basis. The fandom helped me get through some very rough and traumatic periods of my life. I don't really play the game anymore but we got a friend into it and he fell in love and it made me remember what it was like when I dove headfirst into the game, buying just TF2 for like $20 at Best Buy because I didn't shell out the $60 for the Orange Box, which I kinda wish I had.

Seeing that the fandom is still alive, still has many of the people who even if we haven't talked in ages, I still consider my friends because I'd just want to pick up where we left off. There were so many immensely talented people there, incredibly creative and funny and witty, people whose talent inspired me to try to push myself so that I might belong amongst them.

I miss it sometimes. I distanced myself from the fandom in 2014, to my detriment in the long run. But then something happens with the fandom, or the game, or with the voice actors, and it's like the community is still there. We all still love this silly war-based hat simulator, this goddamn meme machine, this fountain of inspiration for just so much gay porn, this beautifully crafted game that has become a weird mutant version of itself over many, many years of updates that have added new things. I don't really play anymore but sometimes I'll just watch my friends play and just remember what it was like to play in shitposty 4chan servers with obnoxious mic spam and the nastiest sprays you've ever seen in your life.

I still love this game, though. I still love the community. I still get comments on fanfic I wrote 15 years ago, gushing about how much they loved it when I can barely even bring myself to reread the old stuff because sometimes when you're an artist, you're just super critical of art you did ages ago. Lord knows I am.

A merry Smissmas to you all. May you get some rare drops and many dominations. Love you. <3

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 40

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,400ish

Summary: You and Logan struggle.

Warning(s): bars, drunk men, tears, heartbreak, seizures

Notes: Welp, this chapter was gonna be shorter and different, but y'all sent in some great ideas. I hope this chapter makes sense since I used the chapter I had already written and worked around it.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Logan was anxious as he pulled up to the diner the next day. He couldn’t see your car, which made his stomach tie up in knots. What if you actually walked away? He had kept telling you to, but then yesterday… he couldn’t lose you again. It might actually be the thing that killed him. Logan’s eyes scanned the diner as he entered, trying to find any sight of you.

“Excuse me,” Logan grumbled as he caught the attention of one of the other waitresses. “Is Y/N here?”

“Her shift starts in a few minutes,” the waitress responded. “Feel free to wait in a booth.”

“Thanks.”

Logan sat down at tapped the table as he looked out the window and waited for you. He felt some relief when he watched you pull up and enter the diner. You could feel Logan’s gaze on you, but you ignored it, quickly starting your shift. You didn’t go over there until Logan’s food was finished.

“Here,” you muttered, setting the food down. You kept your gaze down.

“Sweetheart,” Logan’s injured hand came up to your hand.

“I have to work, Logan. If you need something, we can talk after my shift.”

You turned away and went to help a rowdy truck driver at the counter. Logan kept his eyes on you, growing angrier by the second as the truck driver kept trying to put his hands on you.

“Hey, bitch,” the truck driver called, slapping your butt as you walked past.

Logan stood up and walked over, his whole world red. He grabbed the guy’s shirt and immediately punched him in the face.

“Logan!” You exclaimed, trying to pull him off the man. “Stop!”

Logan pulled the man closer to his face. “Don’t you ever disrespect a woman like that!” He then punched the driver again.

“Logan!” You went to grab his arm, but his elbow flew back into your face and hit your nose. Blood began gushing down you. You grabbed your nose to try to plug it. 

“That’s enough!” Your manager shouted. She glared at Logan and the driver. “Get out!”

Logan looked back at you, stomach dropping at the sight of blood on you. When did you get hurt? He didn’t remember that at all. Logan let go of the driver, causing the man to fall to the ground.

“Out!” Your manager repeated. Logan left the diner before the manager turned to you. “You’re fired.”

“What?” You questioned. “But I—“

“Keep luring that man in. I can’t ban him; he’s too dangerous, but I can ban you. Go.”

You grabbed your things and went out to your car, where Logan was waiting.

“Y/N,” he whispered, hands stuffed into his pockets to hide his own blood and bruising.

“Go away,” you muttered. You got into your car, slamming the door before driving off.

~~~

Logan dropped off the bachelor party at the bar and sat there in the limo. He knew he lost it today and that you needed an apology. Getting out, he was going to get to your motel when he saw you stumble out of the bar, hanging off of a man. You were giggling and touching the man, making Logan see red again. Without another thought, Logan was storming over there. He ripped the man off of you before you could kiss. 

“Hey!” The man exclaimed. “Watch it—“

“Run off,” Logan’s voice was gruff yet thick with anger. He lifted one of his fists and revealed his metal claws. The man scurried off.

“Are you going to sabotage all my jobs now?” You questioned, causing him to turn quickly toward you.

“What? What job?”

“Well, you got me fired from the diner, and I need money. The guy was going to pay well.”

Logan thought he was going to throw up. He had promised you a life away from this, yet here you were because of him. “There has to be another way.”

“What am I supposed to do? I need the money, and I don’t have a safe place… You won’t take me home—to your home… I have nothing.”

“But… you’re my wife,” Logan reached out to you, but you stepped away. “Just ask me, and I’ll help you.”

“I thought you said we weren’t even married, Logan. So, I’m not your wife…”

His heart was shattered. “I didn’t mean—“

“Just… let me walk away, Logan. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Logan felt frozen as you walked in the direction of your motel. He had caused this. It was all his fault. But how could he fix it without putting you in more danger?

~~~

The next morning, Logan woke up with a mission. He had to get to your motel. He had to convince you somehow to stay in town. He was stupid, stupid to think that pushing you away was protecting you. He would work more shifts or get another job just to keep you close. And to make sure that you were taken care of. Logan sped to the motel and rushed up to your door. Knocking on it, the door creaked open.

“Y/N?” He called, stepping inside. “Sweetheart?”

None of your belongings were there. It looked like you left in a rush. Logan ventured further into the room, checking for any sign of you. His eyes caught sight of the motel notepad on the desk, where your familiar handwriting sat. His hand trembled as he picked up the note. He moved it closer to his face and then away as he struggled to read it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hating how his body was betraying him. 

Eventually, he found a spot that he could read it, if he squinted real hard.

Logan—Got kicked out of the motel. Apparently, they don’t enjoy long-term guests like me. I wish things were different.

Logan didn’t even know he was crying until a tear fell on your note. The dog tags and ring that sat against his chest felt like they were burning into him. A part of him wished that they would. That they’d burn right through to his heart. Keeping the note in his hand, Logan turned around and left the motel room. His eyes searched for any sign of your car, but it wasn’t there. You had left, just as he had wanted. But then why did he feel like he could just lay down and die? Like his heart had been ripped from his chest? You were right. This wasn’t protection to either of you. This just made things worse. And it was too late to fix it.

With a heavy sigh, Logan got into his limo and headed back to the smelting plant. He couldn’t work today. Not with his mind too caught up in you and the promises that he failed to keep.

~~~

It was dark, stuffy, and extremely bumpy. But you didn’t care, especially once you realized that Logan kept extra suit jackets and white shirts in the limo’s trunk. 

You knew that Logan would stop by; he was so predictable to you. That morning, you sold your stolen car and packed up your belongings. You waited patiently for Logan to show up at the motel and slipped into his trunk as he searched your room. If Logan wasn’t going to take you to where he was living, you’d just have to sneak there. Consequences be damned. You at least deserved a chance actually to say goodbye to Charles and to Logan.

Currently, you were in Logan’s trunk, wrapped up in one of his jackets, savoring the smell of him. It was something you missed. Just his woody, cigar, leathery scent. It was pure Logan.

You didn’t know how long you were in the car before Logan finally stopped and got out. As you waited, you began to grow nervous. What if you showing up like this was the last straw? What if he really didn’t want you?

“Don’t be silly, my dear,” Charles’ voice entered your mind. “Logan always wants you.”

“Charles?” You mentally responded.

“The coast is clear. I’m in the tank.”

You popped open the trunk and carefully slipped out. You shut it, leaving your belongings in there. Glancing around, you took in the abandoned smelting plant and the barely put-together tank next to it. There was a fence surrounding the place with a train track not too far from that. It was in the desert, the heat of the sun beating down on you. Nothing was around for miles. 

Tugging the jacket around you tighter, you quietly made your way to the tank. As you came up to the door, your heart sank as you realized that it was locked from the outside, clearly keeping Charles in. You entered and looked around. Charles was sitting in a wheelchair near a hospital bed. There was a chair and a small table with some plants scattered about. A fan was working overtime, trying to cool the thick, hot air. Charles smiled upon seeing you.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted.

You smiled back, trying not to worry too much about how it felt like he had aged too much since you last saw him. But the same could probably be said for you. “Hello, Charles.”

“I have missed you.” He wheeled himself over and held out his hand.

You took it. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Come. Sit.” Charles led you over to the chair. “I know that it’s been a hard year for you.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you either.”

“Alzheimer’s… That’s what I have. Seems to be an okay day today. Well, besides being stuck in this shit hole.”

You laughed. It wasn’t very often that you heard Charles swear. “Yeah, the whole place seems… nice.”

“That’s far too kind of a word. But it is better now that you’re here.”

“I don’t know if I can stay.” You shook your head. “I don’t know if Logan wants me here.”

“I don’t care what he wants. I want you here.”

“Charles—“

“Besides, that old grump yearns for you.” He tapped his head. “I know. Well, when I’m not full of those awful meds that they keep giving you.”

“They? Who else is here?”

Just then, the tank door opened, and a man walked in. He was carrying a tray of food and meds. He was tall and thin, all of his skin covered for protection from the sun. You jumped slightly and froze, not expecting anyone else here since Logan had been so adamant that you couldn’t be here for your safety. 

“What the— Who are you?” The man asked, closing the door and walking further in. He set the tray down on the table and pulled his goggles up onto his forehead, showing you that he was albino. 

“Caliban, this is Y/N,” Charles introduced.

“You’re Y/N.”

“I am,” you responded. “Who are you?”

“Logan found me. Offered me food, shelter, and protection in exchange for helping with Charles.”

“Oh.” You hated how much it stung that Logan would promise someone else that.

“Does he know you’re here?”

“No. I snuck over in the trunk of his limo. Please don’t tell him I’m here. I would like to do that.”

“Of course.”

“Y/N can help me with my meds today, Caliban,” Charles said. “You can go.”

Caliban nodded, stealing one last look at you before sliding his goggles back over his eyes and heading out. You walked over to the tray and brought it over to Charles, resting it across his lap.

“Now, Y/N,” Charles took a bite of his food, “tell me how it felt to beat Logan will some fire.”

~~~

Logan tipped the bottle of alcohol up, the liquid burning down his throat. Due to his dwindling healing abilities, Logan had started to feel the effects of alcohol more than he ever had before. But it did nothing to make him forget about you. Your smokey scent. The way your skin felt under his rough, calloused hands. The warmth that radiated off of you. Your eyes and your smile. 

He set the bottle down on the table as Caliban came back into the smelting plant. Logan’s thick brows furrowed as he watched Caliban unwrap his skin.

“Did you make sure he swallowed?” Logan questioned, thinking that Caliban hadn’t been in the tank long enough.

“He swallowed,” Caliban replied.

Logan scoffed. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Well, it might be because you’re tired.”

Logan groaned as he stood up. “I shouldn’t have to do everything around here.”

“Don’t go out there.”

“Why not?”

“He’s, uh, lucid.”

“And?” Caliban looked away. “I’m going out there. Good thing the sun will prevent you from stopping me.” 

Logan marched out of the plant, slamming the door as he headed to the tank. As soon as he opened the door, he froze. You were sitting with Charles.

“Logan!” You exclaimed, surprised to see him already.

“How the hell did you get here?” He grumbled, marching closer. “You disappeared. Everything was gone.”

“I sold the car this morning and snuck into your trunk when you stopped by the hotel.”

“Don’t be mad at her, Logan,” Charles scolded.

“I ain’t mad,” he murmured. “You need to go.”

“No,” you weren’t going to let him push you away this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you from the chair with his uninjured one. “You can’t be here. Especially not in here.” He began leading you to the door.

“Let go of her, Logan,” ordered Charles.

“It’s okay, Charles,” you replied. “I can handle this.” You shut the door behind you as Logan pulled you outside.

“Get in the car,” Logan demanded.

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do! You also don’t get to ask me to stay and then not let me be here.”

“It’s too dangerous! Charles is—He is lucid today, but it’s not always like this, and he can control the seizures and the psychic attacks. You could die, just like the others.”

“I’d rather die in your arms than die homeless on the streets.”

Logan let go of your hand and stepped back. His hand ran down his face in frustration—at himself and the situation. He would rather that, too. That he knew your fate than you die in some alley. But he didn’t want you to have to watch him and Charles decline. Logan knew he couldn’t have it both ways.

You could see the war raging in his mind. You stepped closer and gently took his face in your hands. “I also don’t want you to die alone… I know that something is wrong… I’m staying. We can do this your way, but I’m staying.”

“Fine. But you follow my rules.”

~~~

Logan’s rules were stupid in your eyes, but you were willing to follow them, at least for a little while. The biggest rule Logan had was that you were not allowed to go near Charles unless Logan was home. You thought it was ridiculous and told him as such, but he was still insistent anyway. However, perhaps the biggest thing Logan insisted on was that you two had separate bedrooms. 

“It’s for your own good,” Logan told you.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Or it’s for your own good. You just don’t want me to figure out what’s wrong with you. So you’re still running and hiding.”

Logan hated how well you knew him. That first night you spent there, neither of you got any sleep. You couldn’t help but think about crawling in bed with Logan, though both of you were stuck with uncomfortable twin beds. There was a time when that wouldn’t have mattered. When you two were stuck with a small sleeping situation, Logan would pull you on top of him, holding you there all night. That’s where you wanted to be. In his arms. 

Logan was itching to go to you. To hold you and beg for forgiveness for everything he had done to hurt you. But he couldn’t let himself. Logan needed to keep you at a distance still. He believed it would make it easier when he died from the poison in his body. Though he was sure that you could tell he was already dying.

You, Logan, Charles, and Caliban quickly fell into a routine. Caliban would sleep in the tank every night with Charles. You would make breakfast for the bunch and switch Caliban out so that he could eat and get some more rest. You would stay with Charles, making sure he ate and took his meds until Logan left for work. Logan would always escort you from the tank into the smelting plant before leaving. You took it upon yourself to clean up the smelting plant, trying your best to make it more homey while Caliban took care of Charles. You also took care of lunch and dinners.

Logan would often work late. You made sure that Charles and Caliban ate and went to bed while you waited up for Logan. You had a few books in your belongings, so you would wait on the dingy couch with a book until Logan came home. You would always watch him carefully as he entered and hung up his jacket, trying to hide his pained groans. Logan would hobble over to the table, grabbing the alcohol on his way before you warmed up the food. The two of you would eat in silence.

“Goodnight, Logan,” you would say softly every night after cleaning up. 

“Night, sweetheart,” he would mumble as you walked away.

This routine went on for months, barely ever changing. Logan had noticed that Caliban and Charles were doing better with you around. It helped that they had another person to help ease the burdens and talk to. Charles hadn’t had a seizure since before you arrived, with all of you not taking that for granted.

Logan began to realize that you were doing so much to take care of the three of them, but no one was really taking care of you. You deserved more than that. 

The first gift he showed up with was a new book. It appeared outside your door one of the rare nights when you had gone to bed before Logan got home. 

The next gifts were weeks later and spread out. Logan felt bad that you were stuck in an uncomfortable bed with a flimsy sheet. He knew that your mutation kept you warm, but you still deserved to be comfortable. Each of the gifts was already on your bed when Logan left for work. The first one was new sheets, already fitted against your bed. The next one was a blanket, and then there were new pillows with a whole new mattress as the last one.

You couldn’t understand how Logan was affording these items. You knew that money was tight and felt guilty that he was spending so much on you. The only way you could think to repay him was through your grocery list and the food you made. You knew what meals Logan liked and had them on a constant rotation for him.

Charles and Caliban watched the quiet gifting with much annoyance. They both believed that you should just talk it out.

“Logan is not working today,” Caliban said. “You should talk to him.”

“He’s not the talking type,” you responded, finishing up getting breakfast ready. “Besides… I don’t know if it could help anything now.”

“You never know until you try.”

You ignored the comment as you picked up the tray. “I’ll be out with Charles.”

Caliban sighed as you left, and Logan came down the stairs. Logan grabbed the plate that you had already prepared for him, along with the cup of coffee, and sat at the table.

“She’ll be glad to have you home today,” Caliban commented.

“Sure,” Logan scoffed.

“She misses you.”

“And you would know?”

“I often find her crying as she works.”

That immediately caught Logan’s attention. “What?”

But before Caliban could respond, a high-pitched mental sound rang through their minds. Caliban froze while Logan groaned in pain. Moving as fast as Charles’ seizure would allow, Logan grabbed the medication and fought to get into the tank. He needed to stop Charles and get to you. When he opened the door of the tank, Charles was in bed, seizing, while you had collapsed to the ground. Logan ground his teeth and pushed harder. 

Far too long for his liking, Logan reached Charles’ bedside and injected the meds into him. The seizure stopped, and Logan collapsed to his knees with a grunt. He immediately crawled over to you, only to find you bleeding from your nose and ears. It was his worst nightmare come true again. Caliban stumbled into the tank, covered, as Logan swept you into his arms. He stood up with you, not caring how much pain he was in himself.

“Take care of him,” he mumbled as he carried you out of the tank. 

Every part of his body and soul ached as he carried you up to your room and tucked you in there. You were still breathing, giving him hope. But the last time you had experienced one of Charles’ seizures, you had been in a coma for months. Logan didn’t know if he would survive that again. 

With gentle care, Logan cleaned off your face once you stopped bleeding. He sat in a chair beside your bed, leaning forward with his head down and hands clasped together. You were out for the rest of the day before you finally showed signs of waking up. You moaned as you moved to stretch a little and opened your eyes. Looking over, you saw Logan sitting there, tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes were red and he wasn’t even bothering to hide the heartbreak.

“You can’t be here,” he whispered.

“Logan—“

“No! You can’t be here. What I was trying to prevent from happening almost happened! You could have died!” He stood up, clenching his fists together, almost like he wished he could physically fight this battle. “I— I can’t— I love you too damn much to lose you like this! I just want you to be alive and safe. And that’s not possible here with Charles… here with me.”

“I have nowhere to go.”

“I know! And it’s all my fucking fault! I broke my promise, and now you’re struggling, and it’s all my fault. I hate myself for putting you in those situations! But I— I can’t have you here and watch Charles kill you like he did all the others…”

“James,” you reached out for his hand, relieved when he let you take it. You could see some of the tension leave his shoulders as you squeezed his hand.

“I can’t live without you, sweetheart.” He plopped back into the chair, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this… to be the man I need to be for you and make the right decision.” His grip on your hand tightened. “I need you like I need air to breathe.”

“Then don’t run. Don’t push me away.”

“It’s not safe here… Charles could have killed you today.”

“But he didn’t. And Caliban told me that he’s been more lucid and less prone to seizures. Telling me to leave would make it worse… And then what will happen to you? Who would take care of you?”

“I don’t need you to worry about me, honey.”

“How can I not?” Tears slipped down your cheeks. “I have worried about you every day since I woke up. I masked it with anger because I thought that would help me handle my situation more, but it didn’t… I know you’re dying, James. Whether you want to be honest with yourself or me, that doesn’t matter. I can see it. And… I can’t let you die alone. Please don’t make either of us die alone.”

Logan launched himself at you, wrapping you up in his arms and holding you close. He was full-on sobbing now; the walls that he had put up now crumbled to dust. “I’m so sorry… baby, I’m so sorry…” 

Your arms came around to hold him. “Please don’t make me leave…”

“No, no,” Logan shook his head as he pulled back and gently cradled your head in his hands. “You’re not going anywhere… Honey… I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing.”

“I will never stop, baby. Until my dying breath. And I never expect your forgiveness for my behavior… for my words.” He reluctantly let you go as he pulled your dog tags out from underneath his shirt.

“My ring,” you gasped as you saw it sitting there.

“I went back and got it,” he explained as he removed it from the chain. “I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else taking it.”

“I thought it was gone… I thought…”

One of Logan’s hands went up to cup your cheek as the other held your ring. “I said things I didn’t mean… I told you that our marriage wasn’t real when it was the most real thing in my entire life. You are my wife. I am your husband. Whether or not it’s on an official document.” He easily slipped the ring on your finger, eyes boring into yours. “You are my wife.” He moved his hands to your neck before he kissed your cheek. “You are my wife.” He then kissed your other cheek. You were growing hotter as his beard scratched your skin in a different way than you were used to. “I am your husband.” He kissed your nose. “You are my wife.” Then his lips finally crashed onto yours.

You pulled Logan closer as he fought for dominance in your mouth. Slowly, you lay down, forcing Logan to get on top of you. Logan never broke the kiss, taking you in like a starving man. His hands moved to slide under your shirt, feeling your heated skin. He groaned as he pulled his hands away, and his lips left yours.

“I’m sorry,” you panted. “I’m just… It’s been too long.”

“I know, honey,” he rasped. “I’m feeling the same way.”

“I can try to cool down—“

“Don’t. I can handle it.” He kissed you again. “Let me try to make amends.”

next chapter >

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 19

Wordcount: 6,978

A male cop sat by your bedside that afternoon.

Asking you as much as he could while Judy and him took turns writing things and asking things as well. “Those men, who were they?” 

“Hard to say.” You replied as calmly as you could. You were a horrible liar according to everyone but you tried your best to dance around the truth. Sweating bullets and being able to thankfully blame it on sepsis and medication.

“What about that night?” The cop asked as Judy wrote things down.

“They just showed up… Do we have to ask all this right now?” You coughed out sickly. You felt like absolute death.

“I'm afraid we do, Miss YN... Did you know them?...Witnesses  say you called someone.” 

“Jill is the only one alive. Just say Jill.” You mumbled in agitation. Oh you wanted so badly to unravel her lie that she was SUPPOSED to be hiding under a bed and you were on the roof on the other side of the house fighting Ghostface when you called Stu. She was a fucking liar but you had to bite your tongue. You both had a deal here.

“No, of course not. Who I called wasn't those guys if that's what you're implying...I was calling numbers on my phone for help and accidentally called a distant friend I barely ever see. I meant to call Dewey and accidentally called him. He probably thought I was pranking him or something. Ghostface attacked me after that I dropped my phone in the yard and fell off the roof.” You shrugged. Trying not to look at the cop and keeping a poker face with the truth with sprinkles of lies in it. 

The officer wrote things down, “Did those two men take you against your will from this hospital?” 

“Yes.” You firmly stated and looked back at him. Not a lie. They did drag you out. That was God's honest truth that you wish they wouldn't have done but also what choices did you all have left?

“Their description?” 

You tried to ponder, truthfully having to remember what Jill even said. She rushed it out while threatening you in a half delirious fever type of state. “I um…They uh didn't let me look at them too much…”

“Elaborate for us. Why wouldn't you look at your captors?” He sternly demanded

You softly raised your hand trying to find the words and swiped a hand motion over your eye. Getting nervous he might be unraveling you already. 

“You mean blindfolded? Threatened you?” 

“B-Blindfold. Yeah, they blindfolded me once in the car.” What a lie but a good one to save yourself. You didn't know if you could lie that well so try as you.might you gave a half truth. “I passed out most of the car ride, anyways. I didn't see where they took me like roads and everything. And um…And once at the house, I wasn't around them much and they didn't let me see them with being uh…Blindfolded and tied. I was way too weak to even try escaping…” You swallowed. 

“Too weak?” 

“Yeah. Too scared. Too sick. Too injured. I really was out of it and a sitting duck as a hostage.” You gave with a tight voice. God, you might puke again. 

You yelled internally, ‘Damn it, YN. Pull it together. Tell some damn useful fake info!’ Especially now that the cop eyed you, pausing in their writing to analyze you. 

You continued, “But um I did see them a few times and at Kirby's of course…One had red hair I think and far apart teeth and eyes. Tall… The other with dark hair had a hook nose and tan skin…Um…The tall one had a tattoo of something on his shoulder. Uh…Right. Yeah, his right shoulder. He… ” You debated but just went for it. “They reminded me of that Tim and James guy from Windsor years back. Just older and different.”

“So you think these men are the same ones from the 98 incident in Ohio??” Judy asked instead and looked intrigued at the revelation.

It was risky. It could link Billy and Stu to Tim and James like you tried 13 years ago…But it could also get them away from the Tim and James image and send police on a wild goose chase for a while.

You sighed, “The one's never found or proven? I can't say..Maybe? I was in too much shock. It all happened fast and I was on anesthesia once at the hospital and…” You sighed more begrudgingly this time. “This time; I was too focused on protecting Jill at the house than to get details on who those men were but they did remind me of them. I just know that the one definitely had a tattoo and the other had a hooked nose and gree- no, blue. Yeah, blue eyes.” You swallowed down the lies just spewing from you to save your ass while you felt your back sweating and soaking your hospital gown.

“What was it? The tattoo?” 

Oh shit…Shit! Damn, what did that little murdering cretin say it was? Oh no…Think think-

You gave a tight uncomfortable smile and shook your head, “A Phoenix or Dragon or something? I don't remember.” Well the not remembering part was true. 

“And if we reviewed cameras; would it match your story of being dragged out?” 

You ALMOST felt a coughing fit happen at how dry your mouth was…But ICU had no cameras in the room, you remembered that much. Only the hallway.

Judy wrote all this down and nodded to herself. Hopefully that was good…

“Yes…I was dragged out against my will.” 

———————————

Gale listened beside Dewey as they stayed out of the room but within ear shot as he was still technically on the case as Sheriff till he fully turned his badge in. Dewey seemed like he didn't want to see you, didn't want to be near you, didn't want anything to do with you, especially the more you spoke. 

After the officer left your hospital room with Judy in tow, Gale went in despite Dewey trying to get her not to. It seemed she wasn't even worrying about Judy, just enraged at your lies. Dewey was trying to grab her arm but she barged in anyways once you 3 were alone.

You laid there still sicker than a dog but feeling more aware with the right treatment each hour. You gazed over at the woman you once tried so hard to see as a friend even after everything she had done over a decade ago. Look where it got you?

“What are you doing?” Gale demanded with a stern hiss. “What are you playing at? We all saw them and you know who they were. Shit, you protected them! You protected them from Dewey!” 

You said nothing…Glancing over at Dewey in the doorway who wouldn't look at you. A frown and tense look on his face as he folded his arms.

“Listen, YN. I know now. Okay? I do. I should have listened; I believe you. I know Jill Roberts was one of the Ghostface's and she helped Charlie. If you help me; we can lock her up. Randy and all the other victims can get justice.” 

Your eyes widened with a tiny glimmer of hope in you but you shoved it down and knew better. Gale could just be baiting you. Getting you to admit just to lock you up too. And besides…It was too late for that. They shoved you aside, damned you, and protected Jill. There was no turn from that. They could have killed Jill when she showed how she was the potential killer or at least arrested her and kill or fight Billy and Stu afterwards…You didn't know if you would've fought for Billy and Stu as much had Jill been dead but you'd be damned if Jill lived and your only support in Billy and Stu died because of Dewey and Gale. That hope was dead.

Gale stared at you as you were silent. She urged you, “Please just give a correct goddamn statement. Even just to us. I swear, if you tell us the truth, we'll get her…Damn it, do it for Randy. Wasn't he your friend?” 

You stared at her long and hard. “...Because you're so trustworthy after everything you've done?” You mumbled then stayed silent. Anything you said could and would be used against you with cops or the media…Especially Dewey and Gale now. 

“Hmph. So that's how it is, huh? You're gonna betray everyone to hide those two and to keep your own ass safe? Using Selfish Bitch." Gale spat not even whispering now.

Apparently you were a bad liar and a using bitch to everyone lately.

You just looked away wishing she would just leave. “...I told you that night.” You croaked out. “I told you and look what you did. What both of you did…I told you 15 years ago and then 13 years ago…” You shook your head to yourself. “And from a decade onward I've had to rely on myself…You both did this decades ago and now you're trying to blame me?”

Gale perked up and Dewey spared a glance.

You continued in a low mumble, “...I never helped Billy and Stu in 1996. I meant every bit of that. I swear on my life, I never helped them kill my friend's and tried to get them caught for it.” You told the whole truth but carefully in case Gale had a wire. “And you tried taking me to court to be tried as an accomplice for murder over a delay and possibly altered tape. A serious crime with decades of prison time had it worked and you expect me to trust telling you anything? Fuck you.” 

Dewey subtly eyed you. Frowning deeply at ‘friend's’ knowing that meant Tatum too. Yet he seemed like he couldn't even bring himself to truly look at you let alone talk to you. Gale's eye twitched at you dishing the fact of what she tried to pull years ago.

“...Fine.” Gale shrugged mockingly. “Fine, you weren't involved then but you know they're alive. You knew all this time and you hid it…Why? Why did you hide it? Why did you buck me so much at Windsor? Whether we had bad blood or not; we both agreed. We both know who Tim and James are and the first description is accurate. Not this shit you're selling. We both saw them at Windsor, we both saw them a few nights ago in ICU and they do not have a hooked nose and blue eyes and red hair and a fucking tattoo. Why did you hide them in Hollywood? Why are you hiding them now? WHY?” She pleaded urgently with a frown.

You blinked at that but kept your lips sealed.

“Dewey has the pictures of you with them in a motel. Twice.” She threatened through gritted teeth. “I didn't see a fucking hooked nose. I didn't see red hair. I see a damn liar meeting up with two murderers…And they look like grown up Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.” 

Ah…That's right. Randy seemed to mention something or maybe it was Dewey? It was hard to tell in the chaos. Regardless, you didn't care if it was clear as day…You were gonna deny it. You had nothing left to lose but your life and freedom and you weren't talking.

Gale seemed to be losing her patience with your tight lip routine. “Aren't you gonna talk? Why are you lying? Why are you giving false descriptions of them when those aren't the pictures you described at college? Andrews and Richard's description matched too…What happened to that scar on James aka Billy's cheek, hm? The one you insisted on at Windsor. Same side you cut Billy with shears the night before he supposedly roped you in against your will. He had gauze on his cheek at the party from you and he still has that scar. In fact, I saw it here at this hospital.  Why leave out that important identifier?...If we found this guy you had relations with or whoever else is on your phone; would he have a scar, YN?” She growled out through her teeth.

“13 years ago…I was under stress and projecting my trauma. I saw what I wanted to see and I think Randy did too. I was in a bad place mentally. But now that I'm more aware and better?” You stared at her long and hard. Lying but this was an easy lie to retell because it was a lie people already labeled you with. “...I just don't remember a scar now-”

“Stop lying!” Gale scoffed loudly, “How can you live with yourself knowing two murderers are free all because of you!? How can you lie to us all these years? In fact, if I was more shocked I'd return the favor and hit you like you did me back in the day; but I'm not that shocked. I always knew you were a liar, I just couldn't prove it. You probably did work with them in 96, right? You're just trying to make it look good, right?...Huh? Are you secretly happy that everyone is dead?” 

You just took it. Numbly gazing at her. Anything you said would be against you. Gale was baiting you to talk and you weren't falling for it. They could claim they had evidence and you still wouldn't speak. 

“You aren't even gonna defend yourself?” Gale demanded. “We could go through your phone, you know. We can see who called. Who you texted. Pictures. I can dig deep. I can find evidence at your house. I can ask around.”

You sighed and just shrugged. All while holding her gaze as you laid in that hospital bed. You felt like you had done this too many times and honestly? You were damn tired. If you did go to prison…So what? This shit was getting way too old for you. Might as well try lying and playing stupid and see if it's as easy as these Ghostface's act like it is.

She grumbled out, “You fucking -” 

“Gale.” Dewey's voice rang out in a low tone. “Leave her alone…She clearly won't talk. We're wasting our time.” 

You frowned deeply wanting desperately to talk to him, more than Gale, to explain…But you knew that was a wasted effort. He wouldn't listen. Hell, he could be bugged; not the same Dewey you knew. So you kept quiet as Gale stormed out before turning back to you and marching back to your bedside to get her final say. 

She returned to get the final word. “You know, I'm a tough cookie. I can handle my maid of honor at my wedding betraying me. I can handle you being a fucking liar…But I can't handle you hurting my husband. He's done nothing but be heartbroken and who can blame him? A woman he looked at like a little sister knew the guys that killed his actual sister; that they were both alive! All while she lied to his face for 15 years!” She spat out, looking almost ready to hit you.

“Gale!” Dewey ordered in a shaky way that just didn't even sound like him. “That's enough. Let's go.” 

You knew your face was failing you. The one ‘Woodsboro Family’ you had left thought you killed Tatum or at least Randy. And at best; he thought, no, he knew you hid his sisters' murderers from him for years.

You swallowed to get the lump down in your throat. Your chest ached as you looked at Dewey and you both locked eyes for a moment and you saw a cold look. Hurt and hate in his eyes you never thought would ever be directed at you as he and Gale left you alone in that hospital room.

“Dewey.” You mumbled to Dewey. “…Where's the Dewey I knew in Hollywood that nabbed my files for me to help me?…Or who read all my book just because I wrote it and found it inspiring?…And now you won't even talk to me alone and hear me out?” You tearly gave in to his revenge and anger and bitterness making him a totally different man. Like seeing Billy and Stu made him spiral and you know it was the cherry on top. “I'm still sorry, Dewey.” 

Leaving you feeling more alone than ever before. Such a stark contrast from him 15 years ago hugging you and crying in your arms at the hospital and defending you…To being the one accusing you and staying away.

Dewey stared at you. His mouth twitched in a tight frown before he left you alone.

———————————

Gale listened as the officer interviewed Jill and her mouth hung open as Jill gave the exact description of the two that you did…It was a lie! It was impossible!

As Judy wrapped it up, Gale all but grabbed her. “This isn't right! Damn it, aren't you trained in observation? Didn't you see the guy that shot you!?” 

“Get your hands off of an Officer, Gale.” Judy ripped her arm away defensively, “I didn't get a good look at him because he shot me after he hit me in the head but he was tall with far apart eyes-” 

“And the hair? Was it dark blonde or red?” 

Judy pondered, “Blondish?…No, Red. Strawberry Blonde-” 

“No!” Gale grumbled at her memory being tainted by Jill and you. “Look at the cameras! Me and Dewey can give an exact description.” 

Judy sighed, “And I believe that of Dewey.” Gale's eyes narrowed at the favoritism as Judy continued, “But we have two witnesses that claim differently and they match up even when interviewing them separately and being away from each other for days. And the cameras only show certain angles that match! We didn't see faces up close and the footage isn't in color.” 

“Why the hell not!?” 

“It's a small old hospital!” Judy exclaimed and shrugged dramatically. “And I'd rather discuss this with Sheriff Riley alone, Gale.” 

Dewey's shoulders were tense as Gale rubbed her face and ignored the blonde's last statement.

Gale mumbled to herself, “I don't understand... How does Jill go from wanting YN dead and claiming she's involved to claiming she was… What? Just scared and misunderstood the situation? And how did they both lie correctly? They had to have communicated together recently under our fucking noses. They had to!” Gale ranted as none of this went how she expected. 

Judy got out her notepad, “Do you want to give another statement? These guys…Sheriff Riley said Billy and Stu…He said in a past statement Jill told him that YN-” 

‘Oh Dewey…’ She thought to herself as she watched him walk away and gave him space. The man looked defeated. Like everything he knew turned out to be a lie.

Gale and Judy blinked hearing something be thrown in the bin nearby. Gale faltered seeing Dewey stalk off. “Sheriff?” Judy worriedly called out to him as Gale went to the trash bin. Picking up his hat with a tight frown. For her husband to do that? To something he was so proud of and his job? 

————————————

You took a stressful 2 days to ‘recover’. Everyday was you on edge and sicker than a dog, you swore your blood pressure was probably up and heart rate a permanent over 100 bpm. The police bothered you one more time for a description and you tried your best to lie about their appearance and you knew you were suspicious. Probably a shitty liar. Stressed and tense and nervous as Hell. But lucky for you, one thing was truthful; you did not know where they were or directions of where they took you. During the day, you were passed out. At night, you were feverish and it was dark. 

You were waiting for them to catch you in a lie. To search your phone. You hated that Billy and Stu stupidly sent you here with your phone on you. Probably not even thinking with you close to death. 

However, it didn't happen. Gale came to pressure you one more time with the photos Dewey had. And to your relief, yeah you COULD say they looked like Billy and Stu especially a decade ago but the most recent ones had them both pretty obscure while inside the motel on the outskirts of Woodsboro. In fact, you couldn't see them. Judy just took shitty pictures to report to Dewey. They had nothing. 

Of course, when she pressed the cops once she realized you wouldn't talk…They questioned.

“Who are those men and why were you meeting them?” 

You paled at Judy's urgent questioning on day 2 in a half of you in that hospital. You sighed…Damn Gale. Damn her.

"You mean the ones you followed me and took pictures of in secret? Stalking me?" I grumbled.

Judy remained aloof, "It was Sheriff Riley's orders to keep an eye on you at all times. Who were they?"

“...One is my mechanic and the other I met in Hollywood years ago…I met them for…” You groaned and was unable to make up something better. “We have…We needed each other.” You nervously coughed out.

Judy looked oblivious. “And what for?” 

Despite yourself you felt flustered because even as a lie; you didn't feel like claiming a booty call. “Um…Relations.” 

She blinked. 

You narrowed your eyes; dear lord how did she have a kid? 

“Sex.” 

Judy's eyes widened even buggier than usual. “Oh…OH!” She wrote something down. “You with…Both??” 

“Yes.” You forced out cheeks heating and a glare at the wall. “I have a well known name and I know how unconventional it is so they're a secret.” 

Judy cleared her throat and uncomfortably adjusted herself. “Well…Ms. YN. There's no room for secrets with a string of murders. Where are they?” 

“Don't know, we called it off.” 

“Oh really? And what were their names?” 

You shrugged, “Vincent and Den..Nis. Dennis.” 

Judy raised a brow. “Last names?” 

“Vincent never told me his last name.” 

“And you never asked??” Judy looked bewildered.

You blew air through clenched teeth, “Look it was never serious enough. Not everything is a Disney Romance, you know... Vincent is just a guy that works at some mechanic shop that I think is closed now and we have…Look we just have quick relations, okay?” You grumbled wanting to be anywhere but here. 

“And Dennis? You met him in Hollywood? During Stab? Could it be-” She gasped. “...The actor?! Rafkin?” 

You winced, “...Um…Maybe...Yes. He keeps a low profile probably out of the Country on Holiday.” Unable to get out of this one. 

“Do you have their numbers?” 

“Yes but I doubt they'd answer. We called it off.” You gazed over at her. “And they weren't involved. I promise I know my…-” You grimaced. “Guys and they were not the two guys involved in this.” 

Judy wrote things down. “You know we can get a warrant to look through your phone-” 

“You can now.” You swallowed hoping doing this might make you look more innocent.

You felt your palms sweating as she looked. Then raised a brow seeing ‘Vincent’ texts. “What's this?” 

“We spoke secretly because I did not want Randy and them to look down on me for my private life…We called in secret. I heard a noise and thought it was the killer and it wasn't. So he texted me frantically thinking something happened.” 

And that was the honest truth, actually…Hm. Maybe this lying thing wasn't too hard. Just tell what truth you could throughout the lies.

Judy nodded looking through your phone seeing you had called an ‘unknown’ number the night at Kirby's.

“That was Dennis. I meant to press Dewey's contact. I always kept his unknown because he was so…Embarrassed over being with someone like me.” You forced yourself to give as if a woman scorned.

She eyed you and you prayed she bought it. To your immense relief, she handed you the phone. “You deserve better. Especially if he's the same guy I heard you arguing with at Mr's Meeks' house in the backyard. I know how tough a situationship can be, believe it or not.” 

“Can't argue with that.” You sighed out in relief. 

“Well, for now, they're not suspects or witnesses. We aren't resting till we capture these guys that kidnapped you though. Murderers, kidnappers, one shot an officer and could've killed me…I swear, I'll never forget his face…I swear he looked familiar.” 

You forced a head nod but felt tension at that. That tension didn't leave even as she finally left. All it would take is watching a movie with Dennis and boom.

You heard Gale arguing with her down the hall and you rolled your eyes. You saw Judy warn Gale to back off of police business. Showing her badge for emphasis through the window.

Gale wasn't gonna stop. She just wasn't. And if she did? It would be a while. Years of watching your back, who you talked to, who you called, what you said.

You sighed and leaned back, closing your eyes in your elevated hospital bed. You couldn't go home fast enough. No more hustle and bustle, no more interviews, no more book signings, no more. You didn't care if you had to work remotely or a shitty normal job  if it meant peace. A nice domestically slow leisurely life. You were so damn eager after all this time and all this stress; so much grief fueling you to shut yourself away like you did a decade ago. Only this time no Randy or Dewey by your side. 

It was a little bit later that you turned on your tv while trying to stomach food of some sort…Every news station was you and Woodsboro and…Jill Roberts.

You declined every single interview not only to appease that little monster but because you just wanted to be done with the limelight. If Jill wanted all eyes on her like a spoiled brat? So be it! 

Your eyes narrowed and a sickening feeling came up as Jill played the victim in her hospital room still down the hall from you. Most likely an interview from earlier today. 

“It was terrifying…I'm just so glad me and YN made it. YN really fought hard but after she went down I did what I had to survive and finish off Charlie and the other two thankfully stayed down…It was traumatic.” She dabbed her eyes.

That lying little bitch. 

You felt anger well up in you. There was no answer. Either go to prison for god knows how long and have your name tainted to HOPEFULLY get her to go to prison too…Or suck it up that the person that murdered her friends and yours; got away with it. Clearly the police after interviewing you both separately again and again were positive despite Dewey or Gale's rambling and a stray nurse or doctor that didn't line up. The police and media seemed to think that you weren't involved and sadly neither was that piece of teenage shit.

Two crudely drawn pictures of ‘suspects’ were up. They somewhat resemble Billy and Stu but not quite. Not enough to pick them out of a crowd right away. Thankfully after you ‘admitted’ to Windsor pictures of Billy and Stu as Tim and James not being accurate and Randy unable to buck you or those two Detectives; they weren't reliable now. Just a traumatized teen girl that needed on meds back in ‘98 that poorly convinced, but convinced nonetheless, the authorities that the current sketch was more accurate of ‘Tim and James’ aka the guys ‘Most likely’ involved. Vincent and Dennis may need to change their look and lay low for a year or two. Maybe even change identities…But they might get away too, and despite how wrong it was, you were kinda…Relieved. 

You groaned and turned your tv off. Unable to listen to Jill's fucking lies. She lied much better than you did but thankfully since both your stories matched and they had no idea the cunning weasel Jill was. No clue she called you in secret on someone's phone or even the hospital staff for all you knew with how devious she was…Who would contradict your statements? Your ‘description’ matched up and you two were the only ones at the house to say so and the hospital had a few camera shots of them but too many contradictions. Judy barely got a glimpse of them and could clearly easily be swayed. Dewey was ranting like a lunatic that it was Billy and Stu and was obviously discredited for it and Gale was 50/50 if people would believe her. 

Dewey and Gale's descriptions were accurate and looked like Billy and Stu who were supposed to be dead. You and Jill's description match for the most part and you both were the victims at the house and both of you feigned innocence that ‘How could they possibly be Billy and Stu? There's no way.’ 

Who would the cops and the media believe? Exactly.

You closed your eyes. Back to square one. Being the innocent sweetheart was good while it lasted but you knew it wouldn't last forever. Just like you knew it wouldn't last for Jill either…She'll find out the hard way attention isn't always good. 

You knew conspiracy theorists would side with Gale and Dewey just like they did in the 90's when Gale made her claims you were involved. Some believer had attacked you at your damn house. And truthfully, this time around they'd be half correct. But thankfully, no one but tinfoil hats and naysayers would trust Gale's word over you, Jill and the media.

————————————

Gale paced their house. “This is bullshit…” She shoved a newspaper onto the table. “Utter bullshit, Dewey!” 

Dewey clutched his head. Yesterday still on his mind and today. He had to identify Randy Meeks body for Karla before they planned any final arrangements yesterday. He didn't want Karla to have that on her…Seeing his lifeless face.

The legal battle of Randy being Jewish and the state versus his religion on keeping his body for examination way past 24 hours for any evidence. He looked like a Halloween prop to Dewey. Skin unnatural from being kept on ice so to speak. They made sure he was not embalmed, at least only kept on ice and a Rabbi performed the right ceremonies for him. The Jewish Community the Meeks were a part of, including his sister Martha, fought the authorities wanting his body buried immediately while coroner's had to gather as much evidence as possible. Fibers, prints, how he was killed, if the knife matched a suspect.

It was only after determining the killer was most likely Charlie after finding knife patterns matching his Dad's hunting knife and shoe prints matching his in the mud and a hair found almost days later on Randy's jeans matching Charlie that they could put him to rest…Even though there was plenty of other contaminated evidence from the party on him and even if arguably some evidence was overlooked. Dewey just had to confirm the body one more time before putting him to rest. The coroner wanted more time but was legally advised along with the police department not to. That they had already pushed Jewish law enough as it was for the examination and Randy's family would win in court if they were taken there, something they threatened if even one more day went by. After all, his body had been kept for over a few days.

Bruises on the neck from the rope, lifeless features, skin so cold it was blue with veins showing. He couldn't imagine how much sewing they had to do to his body under that sheet despite his religion; or else his innards would be spilling out everywhere while on the examination table. When they opened his eyes slightly, lifting the lids, they were gray and dead…He looked nothing like fun jovial smart alec Randy and yet it was him. 

“Are you listening!?” Gale snapped.

“No.” Dewey mumbled in a strained voice, nursing whiskey. It has become a crutch to sleep and to loosen up right now. “No, I'm not. I had a pretty bad few days, Gale.” 

Gale went to snap a snarky remark but faltered. Then with a heavy sigh she leaned over the table. “...I know this was a shitty week. But if anything, it's more of a reason to not stop fighting.” She pointed at the table. “Do. Not. Give. Up.” 

Dewey leaned back looking at her. A lot of hope drained from him the last few days. “...And what? It's an open investigation now turning into a cold case.” He groaned and lightly smacked the table. “There are multiple fingerprints, one might match Billy Loomis from ‘96 but what will that do if they're nowhere to be found and no evidence they're alive? You said it yourself! We'll be laughed out of the courtroom. They'll claim the fingerprints were unreliable smudges or someone else. Same with the blood. If they aren't in the system paying taxes or buying things from reputable places or have credit scores then what good does it do? They might not even be in the Country now.” He shook his head.

“So what?” Gale urged. “And we don't know that. If they're stupid enough to stick around to help YN-” 

Dewey winced at that, “Can we just stop talking about it?” 

Gale looked dumbfounded but sat down. “...Don't you want this solved?” 

He scoffed, “Of course I do! But if Billy and Stu are never found then what good does it do?” 

“Um, incriminating Jill? The actual killer.” She grumbled. “If you won't search Jill's phone records then I will go to the Attorney General and get a subpoena.” 

Dewey glared at his wife, “No you won't.” 

“And what's stopping me? Why not!?” She demanded at her wits end with her husband  going in circles. “Still think Jill's innocent?” 

Dewey's mouth twitched and he rested his chin on his forearm on the table, “I don't know what to think anymore…But you are not going to rock this case until we find Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.” 

“Why?” Gale demanded harsher this time. “What's stopping me from just pointing it out online to some crime junkie then?! That video was shot in Jill's room Dewey and it's obvious and I can't believe you and your department are glossing over it!” 

“Because you're not throwing YN in prison, alright!?” He finally snapped before his voice and face wavered. “If you search Jill's phone and we find that evidence or we overanalyze the video and prove it was there then a case will go to court and…I don't know how much YN is involved. But I just…I just can't send her to prison until those bastards go first!...Besides, a video isn't enough without DNA and eyewitness testimony…Kirby said nothing about Jill or YN, only Charlie, and both their stories match up suddenly. We're the odd ones out here and Judy was knocked out before she could truly see them…All you'll do is send YN to prison, possibly Jill and those two jerks walk free like they have for 15 years.” He firmly declared.

Gale looked bewildered, “I can't believe this.” She huffed with a shake of her head. “You told her to get out and never come back. You were hunting her down. You wanted to arrest her if it meant getting answers-” 

“I wasn't thinking, Gale.” He grumbled and sipped his glass. “Maybe…Maybe I do think Jill could be what you claim?” Gale looked pleasantly surprised but he continued, “Maybe I realize this is bigger than I thought? Maybe, just maybe, I still have a bit of faith in YN that she wouldn't do any of this unless blackmail or forced or something…Why else would she come back? Why else would they send her here? You saw her! She was fighting them down the hall! She didn't want to go-” 

Gale scoffed and got up from her chair, “You're being an idiot!” 

“And you're being an opportunist.” He bitterly told her. “You're being the Gale I broke up with years ago. It always comes full circle for you, doesn't it?” Gale stiffened at his tipsy words and looser tongue as he buried his weary head in his arms on the table. 

“Hey, it does not! I have a career!” She argued seeing Dewey get more tipsy it seemed by the hour. Minute even. 

“Randy's dead. YN's a Traitor whether by force or her own will. Jill could be the victim or the killer. Billy and Stu lived and are out free. Hell, maybe I'm the killer at this point? Or you!” He slurred with a pitiful groan.

She huffed, rolling her eyes and taking the bottle from him. Gale gazed down at him and her usual stoic smugness softened. “...I know this is probably harder on you than it is me and we're being assholes to each other.” She sat the bottle aside and cupped his cheek as he damn near pouted at her. She sighed and softly ordered. “I think you need to take care of yourself with sleep and food that isn't liquid.” 

He grumbled, “No…I gotta keep looking, you said it yourself we can't give up. But for them, not YN and Jill. I want them to suffer, I want them to face justice damn it.” 

She sighed again and combed his short hair back a bit with her fingers. “Yeah, I know. But the biggest evidence to incriminate Jill Roberts and put the murderer away is on her phone, Dewey. It's right there.” 

“And the biggest evidence of all is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.” He enunciated their names. 

“Look. Two things can be right, ya know.” 

“Not until we get them. I know YN, Gale…They got something on her…She's scared and won't talk cause she's worried.” 

“Yeah, worried about her own ass.” Gale grumbled under her breath as she pulled away.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She straightened herself. “Dewey, c'mon. You cannot just let the case go cold until we find Billy and Stu; if we find them. What? Are you just giving up because we may never find them?” 

He shrugged tiredly, dark eyes dropping. “Maybe. The media is having a field day with Jill and we would need a LOT of evidence to make her guilty IF she is and you're right somehow.” 

Gale reluctantly agreed in a grunt of resignation. Jill was sweet as pie right now and the media was in her favor. 

“And YN was already made to look guilty from yyoouu-” He pointed at her, “She'll get blamed for something those two did!” 

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh yeah? May I remind you she lied and shielded Billy Loomis from being shot. Twice. 1996 and now 2011” 

“Because she's a good person; you should try it.” He huffed out.

Gale sneered with a tsk, “Alright, you're eating something and sobering up.” She stalked to the kitchen as he sat at the small table and kept talking.

"She may be naive and stubborn but she's too soft hearted...I was wrong. She's gotta be protecting them from blackmail or maybe from being just too sweet of a person." He swallowed and shook his head. “She was dragged out…She didn't wanna go with them…You said it yourself, why was Jill in her room in the middle of the night? Why did Billy and Stu take her back here?...Why isn't she saying anything?...Why does her and Jill's description match when they're lliieesss?” He stretched out the last part. “How'd that happen, Gale? Huh? How did it happen?” He almost pleaded tiredly.

Gale was at a crossroads that she couldn't quite decide yet. She did NOT like the idea of it being a cold case forever looking for Billy and Stu…She hated someone else getting the glory for the inevitable of pointing out Jill's low survival rate and her superficial wounds plus Olivia's death recorded from her bedroom window as her neighbor…

Gale momentarily halted making him something. “...I don't know.” For once, was the answer. The only answer she had. Nothing made sense to her. You and Jill wouldn't talk and Dewey was gonna fight her on incriminating Jill and you. For hiding those two; Gale had no issue sending your ass to prison for tanking her career over lies you were still lying about but Dewey apparently did. 

But she also didn't want to make an enemy of her husband.

Fuck.

She sighed heavily while making him a grilled cheese. “....Fine.” She laid the plate down harsher than necessary in front of him. “We'll twiddle our thumbs waiting around to find Billy and Stu but mark my words, Dewey. If another murder happens? I am bringing that tape in play and that second murder is on you and Woodsboro PD. If YN goes to prison for whatever involvement she had then so be it. You can't protect her forever; especially if she's a damn murderer too.” 

With that, Gale left the room. Leaving a weary Dewey half drunk and tired and so emotionally drained he might as well be catatonic as he numbly nibbled on the grilled cheese his impatient wife burned.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Worth More than Gold (Reader x Laios Touden)

@alex126486 Reader first meeting laios in gold scraping , reader listens laios fascination on monsters and what they tasted like then asking he could cook one for him one day

"Do you remember? Back when we first started out with gold scraping?" You chuckle over at the tallman.

Laios doesn't look up from where he sits preparing the rest of the vegetables from Senshi's garden for you to fry up with the last of the basilisk meat and egg you're making. "Remember what?"

it's always been exciting being around Laios.

You were one of the Touden Party's three mages. Marcille with her explosive fire specialty, Falin with her cleric powers, and you with a specialty in protection and gnomish magic.

You once worked together with him as part of a gold-scraping band.

And it was then that he began talking to you all about his fascination towards monsters.

Little facts about the creatures you would face.

And when you gave no indication of disgust, Laios took the opportunity and ran with it, happily expounding upon monster features for hours upon end.

And when it became clear that you enjoyed his sessions of information -

he began to speculate with you about how monsters tasted.

Would a cockatrice taste more like chicken or more like reptile?

Do strangling plants have sweeter fruits than man-eating plants?

"Who knows? Maybe one day I'll cook you one."

Laios' jaw dropped, and he looked almost about to cry before he nodded seriously.

"That sounds great! What are you thinking of cooking?"

And years later, after traveling with Senshi deeper and deeper into the dungeon, you remember your offhand little promise.

"I once said I'd cook a monster for you. Way back when we were gold scraping."

Laios beams, and you know he never forgot. "I did! I didn't think you had."

"I hadn't, til just now. It must be so much fun for you to discover all the answers to the questions you've had."

Laios nods. "It's a dream come true!"

He glances over at a glum Marcille. "Though of course, saving Falin's the top priority."

"Of course." You nod. "Though if I can be honest, I've really enjoyed the stuff you and Senshi have made."

"That's great!"

"I know Marcille and Chilchuck tend to be squeamish about it-"

("Hey!" Marcille whines)

"-but I dunno. So-called 'normal' animals are pretty weird and gross too, but we eat them. Farming can be nasty too, what with fertilizer, but we don't consider crops gross. It's all just... part of a cycle. If you can make it taste good and it's safe to eat, then why not?"

Laios looks at you with something akin to awe. Chilchuck and Marcille look as though they have lost an ally to madness.

"Anyway, try this. I wanna know if I seasoned it enough." You hurriedly say, seeing Laios still looking at you with that strange expression.

He opens his mouth, seemingly expecting you to... feed him?

So you do, resting the chunk of cooked egg and meat on his tongue, feeling his mouth close around your fingers.

So innocuous, but so intimate, your fingertips compressed as his mouth moves from them, slipping out from the corners.

Part of you is going crazy, thinking one thought - that you've just put your fingers in a teammate's mouth and he just... ate from them. His lips touched your fingers.

His eyes flash up to yours. "Mmmmmm! That's perfectly seasoned."

"Oh! Uh... good." you feel your face heating. Chilchuck smirks over at you. "Good. Those vegetables, then?"

He happily hands them to you.

"Thank you."

"Hmm?"

"For keeping your promise. For cooking. For feeding me."

It's an odd way of phrasing it, but you enjoy the sentiment. "You are welcome, Laios... anytime."

He grins, and leans in close. "You might even be better at cooking than Senshi. It might just be that tallmen have different palates and spices they like, but I love it when you cook."

"I, uh... thanks. That means a lot."

You all but flee to prepare the stir-fry, lowering your gaze, smiling to yourself.

Maybe nothing happened yet, and he's just being nice.

But the friend you've had a crush on since those days of gold-scraping has just practically kissed your hand and complimented your cooking.

And that is worth far more than any gold.

[cliosunshine]

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none; jason struggles to come to terms with the fact that you and your dragons might actually be harmless

Word count: 4.0k

A/N: third part, yay! I finally got around to finish it. Now that i have more free time, I hope to write and post chapter four by the end of the year lol

You watched in horror at the gun pointed right in front of Pyro, your beloved albeit extremely chaotic and destructive fire dragon.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” You yelped as you raised both of your hands and fully turned towards Jason, the two of you still on Obsidian’s back and in between two building complexes, “Hood, drop the gun. Now.”

Although you didn’t know him at all, you really didn’t want the vigilante sitting behind you to accidentally get the both of you roasted like rotisserie chickens by Pyro’s fire breath.

He scoffed, clearly agitated, his gun still up in the air. You had never been that close to a weapon in your entire life and oh god was it terrifying. You then remembered he actually had two of them strapped on his thighs and gulped nervously.

“What do you mean he melted your bike?” you asked, trying to dissuade the situation. You noticed how Pyro was eyeing Red Hood with a knowing look and that gave you more reason to believe that they had actually met before.

“That asshole came up to me, tried to fire his stupid flames in my direction and then he had to set my building’s garages on fire, melting my bike in the process,” his exasperated tone made you look away, heat spreading across your face in embarrassment at your dragon’s actions. It was like having another adult telling you about something bad your child had done.

You eventually sighed in defeat, “Can you at least lower your gun? We can talk about his whole ordeal later, but right now you’re scaring him,”

You couldn’t see it, but by the way he began laughing humourlessly you knew he had a baffled look on his face.

“I’m scaring him?”

“Yes, very much so”

A beat passed, but he eventually strapped his gun away, definitely giving the dragon a dirty look.

In the meantime, you began taking your lasso out, ready to stand up. As you did so, Pyro understood what that action meant and bolted away, flapping his burgundy scaled wings faster than you had thought imaginable.

Fuck.

“Obi, go!” That was everything you needed to say to make him begin chasing his buddy. He, too, was frustrated by his out-of-pocket behaviour. As you skimmed through the skyscrapers of the city, you felt Hood’s arms snake up your waist again, squeezing you gently. You could feel his gloved fingers twitching against the fabric of your sweater as you leaned forward and planted your hands in between your dragon’s horns, making him fly faster.

It was a tiring game of cat and mouse, but with all the times you had to retrieve Pyro back at home, you were pretty confident in yours and Obsidian’s abilities.

As predicted, the fire dragon’s erratic and impulsive nature led him to an enclosed area, where it seemed the nearest exit for him was by your right. As if sensing it too, Obsidian repositioned himself, so that his wing span could block the exit in its entirety.

Jason watched you as you took the glowing lasso in your hand.

His eyes followed your every move and they widened when you suddenly got up on your feet, your stance incredibly stable for someone who had to balance on a breathing and flying creature that was all scales and ridges, with no flat surface to stabilize themselves on.

“I’m sorry for doing it with you here, too,” you apologised with a focused look toward your target. Jason could only nod as he admired you, his own raging thoughts that were previously aimed at the dragon completely dissipated at the sight of you looking like an off-duty Amazon. The fierce look on your face was something you reserved only to the dragons that were acting out and he hoped to never be on the receiving end of it. It was completely juxtaposed to the very sweet and playful disposition you had shown thus far and he didn’t want the light-hearted banter between the two of you to cease just yet. He still didn’t know whether to trust you or not: this whole situation seemed too ridiculous to be true, yet here you were, swinging your lasso with incredible agility as you remained calm and focused.

If Jason had blinked, he would’ve missed it.

You threw the hoop over the dragon’s head and it swiftly slipped on his neck. Only then did Jason notice how small his head was when compared to the other dragons he had seen. The lack of spikes and red eyes made this one look so uncanny and terrifying that he would’ve been scared if he wasn’t still pissed off about his bike.

“Gotcha,” you put the rope in Obsidian’s mouth and sat back down, careful where to put your feet since you had a guest now.

“I’m sorry about Pyro,” you began to apologize to Jason, who could only look at you, “he’s very impulsive and may or may not have incredible anger issues, which isn’t rare for dragons to have but his are atrocious,”

Jason hummed, his mind elsewhere. That lasso looked too much like Diana’s for his own liking, but he decided not to question it whilst mid-air on your extremely protective dragon’s back.

The ride back was peaceful and you managed to coax some of your more mild-tempered overgrown puppies to follow you. They truly did resemble dogs, those ones, with their tails wagging side to side and curiously eyeing Jason.

So, from what he figured by analysing the situation and these creatures, he just had to have the worst luck in the entire universe to meet and irate the deranged and feral one.

He huffed a laugh that seemed to turn your gaze onto him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’,” he shrugged, “just thinking about how, out of all the Tolkien-esque creatures you have, I had to piss off the clearly mentally unstable one”

You shushed him, a mix of shock and amusement in your face.

“Don’t talk about Pyro like that! He’s a troubled boy…he’s been through a lot and is still recovering,” you said as you looked towards him: he was now engaging in a one-sided game of tug war with Obi, who was clearly not having none of it by the way he puffed smoke in the younger dragon’s face as a warning.

You could only huff, some strands of hair on your face lifting up in the process.

It didn’t even feel like Jason was flying above Gotham’s skyline. With the easy conversation and the effortless way you were talking with him, he eased up as if the two of you were just taking a stroll in a park, like you had just done moments ago.

Before he knew it, you had reached the manor and hopped off Obsidian’s back.

There, all of the people residing in it were in the garden, watching the two of you approach them. Alfred’s eyes widened ever so subtly and Jason barked out a laugh as he took his helmet off and walking up to him.

“Hey, Alfred, I’m sorry but those guys there have destroyed half of your topiary,” he said as he rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“I see,” said the butler with a slightly unamused look on his face, “I hope you successfully retrieved every ingredient for Goliath’s compress. Master Damian hasn’t stopped blaming himself for his skin rash since your departure,”

“I’ve got everything I need, Alfred!”

The two men turned around at the sound of your voice. You had just finished talking to Bruce, informing him that only two dragons were left to catch and that they would eventually follow the scent of the pack and come back without a fuss.

“Very well then, miss,” and with that you approached Damian, who was petting and consoling a rather shy and trembling Goliath, clearly agitated by whatever he was looking at behind your back.

You followed his gaze and laughed as you saw 14 dragons staring back with great curiosity and caution at the big ball of red fur. Now that he thought about it, Goliath sure was a strange dragon: he was significantly smaller than any of yours and was covered in bright red fur, whereas all you dragons sported muted colours and had scaled bodies, more often than not adorned with spikes.

You cooed at him, getting closer at the creature. Managing to crush every ingredient into a green mush, you began to delicately massage it over his worse spots.

Clearly spooked by the cold mixture, Goliath growled at you, snapping his wide mouth mere centimetres from your face and making you jump in surprise.

Before you could apologise and try to calm the dragon down, Obsidian lunged at him with a roar as he pinned the supposed threat to the ground, not letting him go. He puffed smoke in his face, never quite spewing flames out of his mouth. Jason was on alert right away as was everybody else. Even the other dragons grew tense as the watched the scene unravel: some seemed to growl at Goliath with the same protective instinct Obsidian had, whilst others grew shy and retreated behind some of the bigger ones.

“Get your dragon in check, Y/N,” Jason warned, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of him.

He understood why Obsidian lunged at Goliath like that, but he’d be damned before he saw Damian’s most beloved pet get torn to pieces right in front of him.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you quipped back, clearly as agitated as everyone else. Jason almost felt bad for snapping at you, but he truly didn’t know what your intentions were yet and he surely wasn’t going to take any chances.

Everybody watched you carefully as you approached the dragon, whispering something in his ear before Obsidian let go of Goliath’s neck and lowered his head at you. From where they were standing, it seemed like he was almost apologetic.

The more distance grew between Obsidian and Goliath as he retreated back to the rest of the pack, the more everybody, including Jason, seemed to visibly relax.

Here he found another reason not to trust that creature.

You returned your ministrations on Goliath who was still eyeing you warily but let you treat him nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, Damian thanked you before beginning to make his way back to the cave.

“Wait-“ you put and arm out, trying to stop them from walking away so suddenly, “I know that wasn’t the best first impression from Obi. I apologise, but he was just doing what he thought was right at the moment.”

Damian only nodded and Jason raised his brows in surprise at a lack of snarky response from the boy.

“I don’t know where you found him, but Goliath certainly isn’t like any types of dragons I had ever seen before…if you want to, he can come closer to my pack so that they can introduce themselves.”

Damian scanned your face for any signs of malice behind your proposition but after not being able to find any, he accepted. He tried to conceal his excitement at getting his beloved pet to make friends and know more about his kind, but the whole family was quick to catch onto that.

Bruce put a reassuring hand on Damian’s back and encouraged him to walk over them.

One by one, you introduced the dragons to everyone. The light coming from a garden lamp nearby made the creatures less menacing as they looked around curiously, taking in their new surroundings. Helios, the wind dragon and a bunch of other ones where actually pretty chill and very friendly, so much so that they let everybody pet them. Dick appreciated that greatly as he nearly flung himself at a smaller dragon, hugging it. You explained that was a wyvern and her name was Quartz.

“What’s up with their names?”

You looked at Stephanie as you pet Obsidian’s ears, “Oh, we just decided to stick with names that represented either their appearance or abilities,” you explained, “Obi’s completely black, Helios can manipulate and generate wind, Pyro can spew flames out of his mouth-”

Jason grumbled at that, crossing his arms on his chest.

He was the only one who hadn’t gotten closer to the flock. Even Bruce leaned curiously near one of your more relaxed and friendly creatures, not coming too close and definitely analysing its strengths and weaknesses.

Jason scanned his eyes on the scene, before his gaze locked onto yours.

You had a small smile on your lips, your expression unreadable. Were you sizing him up? Were you silently mocking him?

He didn’t like how worked up he got about what you could think of him. He never cared about what other people thought, so why on earth was he now inching closer and closer towards you and Obsidian?

The black dragon only side-eyed him before returning his attention back to Goliath, who was sniffing and ogling his scaled cheeks in interest. Besides him, Damian was talking you ear off about the ice cave he found him in while on a mission.

You nodded with a smile on your face.

“They seem to love them”

You chuckled, “They love the attention and chin scratches, that’s what they love,”

In the distance, you could hear some sirens wailing through the city’s streets.

“Isn’t this whole dragon problem going to mess up your work?”

Jason shrugged, “Not really. All the bad guys that we could get are already in GCPD’s station. If not, they helped scare everyone off, making them barricade in their homes”

Obsidian huffed and you laughed.

“He really doesn’t like me, does he?”

You shook your head in agreement with a laugh.

“He’s just wary of all men. He doesn’t have anything against you, really,” you explained reassuring him, but the way the black dragon was almost mocking him with his challenging eyes told him otherwise.

Jason kept his mouth shut for your sake.

The temperature had dropped significantly and the chilly night seemed to have seeped into everybody’s bones. When you spoke, a cloud of breath vapor came out of your parted lips.

As if one cue, Alfred ushered everybody inside, ignoring their complaints and their claims to be perfectly fine through clattering teeth.

“What about them?”

Bruce glanced back at you and Jason. The dragons were huddled up by your side and were showing signs of sleepiness by drooping their heads.

“We can’t let them out here, B,” interfered Jason, looking at his father, “who knows what sort of crazy stories will circle out tomorrow if they see the very creatures that reigned terror in Gotham the night prior, all cozied up in Wayne manor?”

Bruce gave him a pointed look before composing himself, “they will stay at the batcave with Goliath. I’ve already initiated the dragon protocol when you were gone.”

After tucking your dragons to bed (and after reassuring Obsidian that just one night of not sleeping by your side won’t actively kill him), Alfred showed you the suite guest room before leaving you to yourself. The others had already bid their goodnights and you also met two more members of the vigilante ‘family’, if you could call it that. Oracle and Signal were friendly and showed interest in your occupation, making you promise to introduce them to the flock tomorrow morning.

But now, tossing and turning in your bed after a nice hot shower, sleep didn’t seem like an option for you.

You huffed, clearly frustrated by the weird feeling of emptiness and anxiety that sat heavy in your chest, before completely giving up on getting a nice night of sleep and getting up.

Only clad by a pair of long pyjamas kindly given to you by Alfred, you silently made your way out of your room and into the hallway. The goal was to reach the kitchen to get a glass of water, but as you passed the living room, something outside the large patio windows caught your attention.

It was the broad figure of someone sitting on one of the benches outside. You could barely make out their features due to the lack of lighting, but the familiar green glow you had spotted earlier on was a dead giveaway.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask Hood once you made your way outside and stopped by his right.

He only hummed in response, not glancing up from the ground. He was wearing dark grey sweatpants and a black hoodie with the hood up. His hands were inside the hoodie’s pockets and he sat slightly crouched, like he wanted to make himself smaller.

You tilted your head in curiosity at that.

“Can I sit here? I can’t catch a single ounce of sleep, too,”

He hummed once more, not bothering again to give you a proper answer. You sat down next to him, keeping your distance as you leaned back and gazed up at the sky. You noticed how warm and slightly stuffy it actually was in your room now that you were out here and a light breeze ran past you, raising goosebumps on your cheeks.

You stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Hood decided to speak up.

“Can I ask you something?”

You turned to him, unable to read his expression and nodded.

“Where did you get that lasso?”

It took you a moment to unfog your mind before you realized what he was referring to. Diana’s lasso.

You shrugged, “It was a gift from a very dear friend of mine,” you answered casually, looking at the man next to you, “Why do you ask?”

He didn’t reply immediately, instead he settled for looking at you as if trying to determine whether you were telling the truth or not, his gaze boring right to your side. He decided on the former and sighed, “I’ve seen that lasso before. Everybody here knows that it belongs to one person and one person only-”

“-Diana Prince?”

You saw the way his eyes widened like saucers and chuckled to yourself, “What? You know her, too?”

He took off his hood, an incredulous look on his face, “Everybody knows her! She’s Wonder Woman, for god’s sake, who doesn’t?”

You shrugged again, feigning ignorance on the matter, “All I know is that one day I happened to help a young Amazon out with her jet and taught her how to ride on Obsidian and before she left, she gifted me her lasso,” you explained with a small smile on your face, “she said it would be the only thing that could possibly be able to keep an animal as cunning as a dragon at bay, and wouldn’t you like to know, it’s true!”

The look on Hood’s face was causing you to let another laugh out but you contained yourself. There were clearly gears turning in his head and you patiently waited for the next question you knew was to follow.

The man ran a hand across his face, now fully alert and frustrated with this new piece of information he was provided with.

“But- How did she- …You know?”

“Beats me,” you say sincerely, shaking your head in your own disbelief, “she said she was on a mission with her team someplace near their headquarter that apparently is in space? I was so confused but decided not to prod her on that. She was distressed but told me a portal opened, just like the one I came here in,” you rubbed your neck as you tried to remember what Diana had told you many years ago.

Your eyes lit up as a memory resurfaced. Hood straightened up immediately.

“She said some doctor or professor was trying to prove the string theory was real and went mad? I don’t remember the name, but she said it was someone her team had been dealing with on a regular basis…what was his name,” you looked up to the sky with a pout, as if hoping the stars would give you the piece of information you were missing.

“Was it Mr. Freeze?” Hood began asking, nearly at the edge of the bench with how much he got worked up in such a small window of time, “Or maybe doctor Death? – he was probably in Arkham when the first incident happened though – What about Professor Milo-”

You jumped as you clasped your hands in recognition, “Yes, that one! Milo!”

Hood looked relieved but then his face fell again, “Milo’s been dead for the past three years,” he huffed out, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning back.

“Oh…maybe someone who would continue his legacy or that had the same manic tendencies? Maybe someone who could dwell in sorcery of some kind?”

He seemed to contemplate your words with a slight nod, “I’ll look into it tomorrow after I tell B and the rest”

You muttered an ok and silence fell again between you once more.

“So, you’re not planning on attacking us with your flock of dragons?”

You laughed right at his face as you leaned back, holding your stomach, “You sure are a funny guy, Hood,” you said with a smile, “if those really were my intentions, the city would have been reduced to ashes hours ago.”

He nodded once, “Good, ok…”

“Come on, you can ask me whatever question has been bugging you from the moment I first stepped foot in this place,” you encouraged him, tilting your head to the side.

He seemed to hesitate before he turned to you with a sheepish smile, “It’s just that- you know…dragons? Really? They seem like they shouldn’t even exist with the way they look! – no offence to them or you for that matter, but-”

“What about Goliath?”

“Goliath’s different. He’s way smaller, for starters, but he was also found by Damian during one of his missions, when he came across a tomb of some ancient kings…he’s family, and he really acts like an overgrown puppy,”

You hummed in agreement, “And you think my babies are too feral and only capable of destroying everything they touch?”

“…Yes?”

“If you just hate Obsidian and Pyro you can say so, you know. I won’t get offended; I know they’re a handful.”

The man puffed out his cheeks as he looked away, “I’m still mad about my bike, that’s all…and your dragon is a jerk-”

You gasped at that.

“No, he’s not! Is he very territorial and does he hate all men that come too close to him? Yes, but look at you! You managed to get on his back,” you exaggerated stupor with your hands, “No man’s ever managed to do that before, just so you know,” you smiled playfully as you nudged him with your shoulder, “if anything, I think you can’t stand each other because you two have the same temperament.”

“I am nothing like that moron of a dragon-”

“Stop calling Obsidian names!”

“I’m not calling him anything. I simply deal in facts.”

You snorted at that. The chilly breeze that covered your body in goosebumps was seemingly forgotten as you shook your head in disbelief at his word.

Laugher was shared and the tension on Hood’s shoulders seemed to subdue the more you spent talking out there in the cold.

Another chill ran through you that you couldn’t ignore and you quickly got up, “I’m freezing my ass off here. I’m sorry, Hood, but I must go back before I die of hypothermia-”

“Jason.”

You stilled as if you got struck by lightning. With your mouth still open, you managed to mutter out a Sorry what? To the amused man sitting in front of you.

“My name. It’s Jason. You can drop ‘Hood’…we were keeping our names private in case you had heard of us from somewhere,”

“Oh, yeah. Right, Jason- Uhm, I’m Y/N”

“I know that, you told me back at the botanic garden,”

“Ah, yes,”

You didn’t know why, but knowing Jason’s name sent you into short circuit for a minute. You didn’t expect him to do such a thing, yet again you mulled over how many things didn’t go as expected in just a single night, so you silently accepted it.

“You want to join me on the couch? We can drink some tea and watch something on the tv to pass time?”

His only response was a nod with a smile and you both stepped back inside the manor, now knowing something more about each other.

[sunshinerainbowsandlollipops]

Secret Santa gift for @marauding-almond! Merry Christmas and Happy New year! I hope you like it <3.

If you find a typo, please let me know so I can change it

"This year's been wild honestly," Sirius said, lazily throwing a leaf into the black lake and leaning back on Remus’ chest. It floated for a few moments before a bird nearby pecked at it - probably thinking it was food. The poor bird. 

"It really has," said James, "I mean if you had told me we'd be sitting here, at the Black Lake, with Slytherins, I don't think I would've believed it."

"I still don't believe it," Regulus grumbled, laying his head on Barty's chest. Barty laughed and Regulus smiled at the sound, revelling at the feeling of knowing that it was him who had caused it. 

"Ok, well if we're all naming things we can't believe, I have to say, I can't believe how long it took for those two to confess and get on with it," Lily said, nodding at Remus and Sirius, though it was really unnecessary. Everyone could tell who she was talking about. 

"She's right. Though to be fair, it took them about 5 years to realise their own feelings towards each other. Let's just be glad they got past THAT before 6th year," Peter said.

"You know, I can't believe we never figured out who charmed all the Slytherin banners in the common room to turn into Gryffindor banners. That was so long ago and still no one owned up to it," Regulus mused. Remus and Peter shared a look.

"Oh yeah that was us," Remus said casually. Sirius and James both sent him a confused look. Sirius spoke.

“No it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, it was me and Peter. You two were at quidditch practice, we saw James’ cloak, we were bored and thought why not?” Remus explained casually, not even looking up from where his hand was stroking his boyfriend’s hair. Barty on the other hand, looked ready to jump up and strangle both Peter and Remus. Thankfully for them though, Regulus was on his lap, so Barty had no choice but to stay put.

“IT WAS YOU TWO THIS WHOLE TIME? I spent ages trying to figure it out! I thought it was Evan sleepwalk-talking or something! I feel so betrayed!”

Remus and Peter burst into laughter. James and Sirius, after getting over the shock, joined them, patting them on their backs and praising them. Lily looked at the four boys with amusement (though Peter saw how her eyes lingered on James just a little bit more than the rest) while Barty and Regulus sat almost helplessly, still looking like they were trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. Evan looked a bit mortified, and it took Peter a while to figure out why but when he finally did…

“Wait, hold on, can we go back to the part where you said something about Evan sleepwalk-talking?” Peter said, still holding back laughter. Evan dropped his head into his hands, resigned to his fate. Barty and Regulus exchanged an seemingly exasperated look - but there was a slightly wicked gleam to it.

“Oh you know. Evan has this habit of sleepwalking, but sometimes he talks too. It leads to…incidents,” Barty started off, speaking louder than he really needed to, like had to make sure everyone heard.

“Yeah. Barty, remember that one time he accidentally cast an aguamenti charm and completely soaked himself in water? It looked like he had wet the bed!” Regulus picked up Barty's cue, also speaking louder than needed. Evan interrupted, finally having decided that he wasn’t having any more of this.

“Ok yeah, but remember that time at the end of 5th year- so last year I mean- when I accidentally walked into Barty’s bed and you thought he was cheating on you and you got so angry that you didn’t talk to us for a month? Even after I explained?” A smug look replaced Evan’s mortified one as Regulus coloured crimson and Barty smirked at him.

“Wait, was that why Regulus started talking to us? Because he thought you two were, you know, betraying him or whatever and I was the only other person in the school he knew? I suppose we have Rosier to thank for bringing us together then” Sirius jested. If it was even possible, Regulus burned a darker red.

“Ok haha very funny we should go back to the New Year’s party now.”

Peter saw the look of surprise on everyone’s faces - Regulus? Go back to a party? But everyone knew not to push him. Still no one moved, content to spend the night there, talking, laughing.

“We really should go back though. People are going to wonder what we’re doing,” James said, standing up and extending a hand to Lily. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it. A suggestive smile played on Barty’s lips at James’ words, but whatever he was going to say, he decided against it and pressed a kiss to Regulus’ head, urging him to stand up instead. 

As the eight of them trudged back up to the castle, James and Lily hung a little back, behind the rest of the group. Peter had a feeling he knew what they were talking about so he slowed down, waiting for them to catch up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when they did. James and Lily shared a look and sighed, both turning their heads right to look at Peter. 

“Well, we want to kiss at midnight, but everyone’s going to know if we do,” James explained. Peter nodded, his earlier theory being confirmed.

“Right. Remind me why you don’t want anyone to know about your relationship again?” 

Peter was the only one who knew after he accidentally walked in on them kissing. That…was an interesting day, though it was not entirely unexpected. He supposed he had thought James would’ve told his friends straight away, and finding out he hadn’t had surprised him more than anything else.

“Because it feels so new and fragile and delicate. And honestly, it feels nice keeping it to us for now. Like our own secret. Of course, when we’re ready, I would shout it out to the whole world. My girlfriend is amazing!”

The two shared a loving look and Peter smiled at their affection. They made a good couple.

“Alright, well if I say that I don’t want to be kissed… and Mary has her boyfriend of course…Marlene and Dorcas…then Remus, Sirius, Barty and Regulus are already taken… and you two make sure to be together in between people who are already kissing someone… we can make it look like you two had no choice but to kiss each other,” Peter thought out loud. It was a very bad plan, but he knew no one would pay too much attention to it.

James broke into a smile and, after checking to see if anyone was looking, pressed a quick kiss to Lily’s forehead.

“See this is why it’s a good thing Peter knows, darling.”

“I suppose it is,” Lily sighed happily, clearly content with Peter’s plan, however vague it may be.

As they got closer to the Gryffindor common room, the Slytherins of the group held back as Sirius said the password (they had learnt to do so when Sirius had accused them of being spies a year ago). When the portrait swung open, Peter was immediately invited to the sound of laughter, music and chatter.

James walked in first, immediately being swallowed by the crowd. Everyone followed him in and started to mingle. Peter, as usual, made a beeline straight for the stairs to the dorms. They provided him with the best people-watching point since it allowed him to be above everyone else. A quick glance at the giant magical watch hovering in the middle told him there were five minutes till midnight. He supposed he should go find Lily and James to make sure they were in the right spot in a bit.

Quickly scanning the crowd, he found James laughing with his arm around Sirius, who was seemingly telling a very funny story. He found Lily not far from him talking to another Gryffindor girl, stealing not-so-furtive glances towards her boyfriend. He quickly scurried down the stairs to find his friend.

The crowd was dense, which meant he really had to shove people out of the way to get anywhere, but Peter had always been good at slipping through cracks. And honestly, it was always fun squeezing between the people; he would catch the most interesting snippets of conversation. Wrinkling his nose at a particularly squealy ‘he was so good last night!’, he finally reached James and tapped his shoulder. James turned to him and smiled, but Peter just grabbed his elbow and said, “It's nearly midnight.” As soon as James heard that, he grabbed Sirius’ arm and pulled him along too. He navigated James to Lily and then took them both to where he had seen Remus and the Slytherins (all lurking in the shadows like ghosts) and made sure to strategically place James and Lily in the middle.

As the minute closed, Peter saw everyone's conversations dwindle and every head turned to face the clock in the middle of the room. It had been a wild year, Peter thought to himself. A lot had happened and he found himself realising that he was glad he got to be a part of it. All of it. As the clock started counting down the seconds from 10, people joined in, counting out loud.

“10!”

Regulus and Barty shuffled further into the shadows - if that was even possible.

“9!”

Sirius pulled Remus out of the shadows.

“8!”

Peter saw Marlene and Dorcas rush down the girl dormitory stairs and mix in with the crowd. They had lost the two before they had decided to go down to the Black Lake and decided that if the couple wanted to find them, they would know where to go.

“7!”

“6!”

“5!”

Pandora, who had been missing for most of the party (something to do with New Years nargles? Peter wasn't sure) came and stood next to Evan, who wrapped an arm around his sister’s shoulder.

“4!

James and Lily shuffled towards the centre.

“3!”

“2!”

“1!”

The room exploded with “HAPPY NEW YEAR” and laughter and colour as people shared a kiss, shook hands, exchanged hugs. Peter smiled as he saw James holding Lily close and Evan and Pandora locked in an embrace. Which lasted for a total of 2 seconds. Evan let go and quickly pinched his sister’s cheek before she had a chance to do anything to him first. His friends came closer, surrounding James and Lily since they had been in the middle. Barty grinned.

“Finally managed to pull Evans, Potter?” 

Lily scoffed.

“Please. I just felt bad for him. Imagine not having anyone to kiss on New Year’s!” she said. “Unless of course, by choice,” she added apologetically, looking at Peter, Evan and Pandora.

Peter shook it off with a wave of his hand.

As a floating plate carrying drinks passed by the group, they each took one glass. Sirius lifted his in the air and said, “To Remus Lupin, for finally accepting himself.” 

And so they began their yearly tradition of toasting each other on New Year’s. Someone would start by toasting someone, whoever they chose. Then that person had to raise a glass to someone of their choice next. Since Sirius had toasted Remus, Remus spoke.

“To Lily Evans, for surviving another year putting up with James.”

“To Peter, for always being there for any one of us.”

“To James - He knows why.” 

“To Barty, for making my brother’s brother slightly less miserable!”

“To Regulus, for finally realising he’s a human! With emotions!”

“To Evan, thank you for bringing my brother and I close again. But if any of you tell anyone I said this, I will deny it - Or worse!”

Chuckling, Evan raised his glass last.

“To all of us! For finally realising that surprisingly enough, we make a good bunch of people!”

[growlingven]

Hey so this is something I put more effort than I expected into. It’s cozy, and a bit depressing. Knifeplay and gore tws, but no consequences. Praise to @butchwolfmom who helped flesh out my ideas.

The tension is what hurt the most. A distinct difference between her life at home and out. She leads her victim by the hand, walking up the step. Sneaking through the front door. Pointing out the stairs which creaked loudest. This aspect of her life that so few knew about. A source of joy, of true talent and utter satisfaction. Steps taken slowly, hands hot with sweat but not letting go, Blood rushing in her ears. Who could have known that breaking into one’s own house could be so exhilarating. This moment was not something she could share with anyone who really mattered to her, except for her love.

She slips inside her room with prize in tow, pulling the door shut. The facade drops, spinning around to press her prey against the door. She prays that her parents just across the hall would stay asleep. Frantic kisses find their way to cheeks and lips, and down jaws. Nails dig into each other’s sides to pull themselves ever closer, burying themselves in their other. Hickeys are left trailing along revealed necks and chests after collars are stretched out of the way. muffled giggles and gasps in equal measure fill the air of the room, moans hidden within deep kisses. She thinks of her parents walking in on them. Of the confusion they would express, their denial or misunderstanding taking over. She pulls her precious thing away from the door and falls forwards onto her bed, ensuring her squirming toy is wrapped up in an embrace under her. How could they ever understand this.

Weak grinding and stolen nibbles, deep kisses and hands slipping up under clothing all work to enflame the momentum of desire. Quickly, rope is wound tight around her victim’s wrists and ankles Leaving it bound down upon her childhood bed. Memories of years past fill her mind. Her staring with a sense of shame and need at similar images of people tied spreadeagle across a bed. Even as her love flexes, the knots made by her well trained hands don’t slip or loosen despite the straining. Remembering, As a child, her not knowing what this was but wanting it nonetheless. And it gasps under her, “w-what are you going to do to me.” These were scenes and images from childhood made real. She trailed a finger up a leg, teasing across the waist, clawing along the neck of her toy, coming to rest upon the lips. Silence ordered, sealed with a kiss. These stories, still hidden in the darkness of her room where none but her should see.

And from under her bed she takes out her set of precious knives, an unmatchable gift which she would use on the very being who gave them to her. With tenderness she began unwrapping the cloth around them. Imagine if her parents saw her now, finally the surgeon they always dreamed of. She lays each one on the nightstand letting the moonlight shining through the window catch them, leaving each knife to shine like liquid silver. Her victim whimpers at the sight, of the tools which would soon be disassembling it. “Ahh ah,” she cools into its ear, “Darling be quiet. We can’t let them hear.” It whimpers again, quieter this time. They’d be horrified wouldn’t they. Seeing the blood and pain that delighted their child so. Unable to cover its mouth, bucking up at her as she straddled its hips, begging for her to finally begin.

She starts by picking a long serrated knife, the kind one would use for bread. She saws the blade down its chest to tear apart clothes, bearing its flesh before her. What did it mean, that she could think of, even dream of carving into this living flesh like marble. It quivers and pleas with its eyes for her, understanding that every noise it would make would only serve to drive her further. A second knife is chosen. One well used, sharpened again and again. Why wasn’t she disgusted by those choices. It struggles not to scream when the knife tip pierces its skin. She couldn’t look at the wound. It refuses to writhe as the blade is dragged along its chest. Leaving it ungagged is a choice, a single torturingly risky decision. And in the moment after the knife is removed, when its freedom is returned, it begs for more. It wants this done to it, wants to be held and hurt and bled. But why, her thoughts scream, would anyone sane want to do this to another, to the person they loved. It begs to have blood running down its body, to have its arms and thighs covered in wounds. It begs to bleed so perfectly for her tormentor. She wants to cut her love apart, needs to give in. Needs to…Needs to stop.

She drops the knife.

“I can’t darling, I…we can’t” she whispers, fumbling in the darkness for the blade, “We can’t have anyone else seeing. If your parents knew-”

“D-did you forget?” It gasped out between slow and delirious thoughts, “I moved out. You can go as far as you want with me.”

With shaking hands she finds the knife. Tears spill onto her sub’s chest, mixing with blood. “I..right. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

And so she cuts. Her hands shake, her eyes fill with tears. And still she cuts. Her victim, suffering at her hands, writhing and pleading, looks up at her. She can’t meet its gaze. She can’t look it in the eyes. Her hands are numb, wet. She can’t stop crying.

It asks if she’s okay.

She carves another small tear-stained heart into its shoulder and nods. She’s fine. The cuts are jagged. It doesn’t look like a heart.

It says stop.

She freezes. She went too far. She shouldn’t have wanted this. She hurt someone she cares about

“Please cut me free,” a voice whispers from under her.

She Does so.

“Are you okay,” the mass of blood and meat under her whispers again.

She can’t look up, she’s stuck staring down at her blood covered hands holding a knife. She says she’s sorry.

She’s so sorry.

Her love places a hand on her cheek, wiping a tear.

“Don’t touch me,” she whimpers, clambering off of it, pulling a mess of blankets with her, “you don’t deserve..this”

Its touch was so cold on her face. Was it dying. Did she do this to it. What would happen now.

“I need you,” the words cut through racing thoughts, and a hand reached towards her.

What choice did she have but to take it. To be dragged from the safety of nothing but herself and blankets and stand staring before the mess that she had made.

She enjoys looking down at that display of cuts, at the hearts and stars and swirls forced into every bit of skin. The way the blood pooled and flowed through furrows of gore. She enjoys this. She did this.

“W-where is the thread, I need you to help me”

She opens the bedside table, pulling out a needle, thread, cloth, antiseptic and bandages. She could fix this, she could undo everything that happened and everything would be okay, and this would never have happened.

So she began to clean, and stitch. Her love’s hand grips her by the hair, pulling and gasping in pain when tears fall onto its wounds.

It holds her, it thanks her, it pulls her close, it doesn’t let her pull away. Its chest is cleaned, red gore replaced with the sheen of clean antiseptic. And she is made to lay beside it, head buried in the crook of its neck, sobs wracking her form. Hands run through her hair. “That was perfect, my love,” it cooed, “You did good.”

They lay there, warming themselves, sweat and tears wicking away. Tears turned to shaking, to words of fear and praise. They pull the Scattered blankets up, the rest of the world forced out

[starswritewhispers]

cozy confessions- nalu

this fic was written for @natsudragneelswh0re for the @allaboutnalu 2024 gift exchange !!

hi hannah!! im your secret santa, omg surprise!!! i tried to follow the fake dating, one bed, and general tooth-rotting sweet fluffinesss prompts (and also found from a mutual friend [shout out lauren] ur general fic tastes) so i hope you love this!! happy holidays, i hope you enjoy your gift aaaaaa

fic below cut

Lucy was really starting to question Natsu’s–and maybe her own– sanity as her eyes trailed over the rustic-styled lodge and the various frat brothers and their dates who were grabbing keys from Loke. She leaned up on her tiptoes, angling her head to shield her lips as she pressed them against the pink-haired man’s ears, voice dripping with syrupy sweetness.

“I’m going to kill you,” she murmured, for what had to be the hundredth time of the night. “This was supposed to be one date.”

“It wasn’t me who forgot that my friends were dating my fake date’s brothers, was it?” Natsu hissed back, faux smile gleaming on his face as his hand easily wrapped around her waist. “Not on me, this time, princess.”

“For once,” she grumbled, settling back down on flat feet to send a quick glower up at her best friend. “I swear–”

“Trouble in paradise?” Loke’s chipper voice cut her off, an all too knowing smirk playing at his lips. “How odd for such a happy couple.”

“We’re fine, mane for brains,” Lucy didn’t even want to begin to try and understand what Natsu meant by that. “Thanks for checkin though.”

“Always a pleasure,” Loke grinned, bright eyes drifting to Lucy. “If you ever wnat to spend time with a real fairytail man, let me know, Luce?”

“I will beat your ass,”

“Oh, I’m sure,”

“Boys, boys,” Lucy cut them off, rolling her eyes as she stepped in-between them. “You’re both pretty, now can we get our room key?” Loke snickered at her words, but easily opened his fist, dropping the key into her waiting palm.

“Sorry, but you two are sharing a queen bed,” Loke began, with a grin that didn’t seem the least bit apologetic. “All the remaining kings were booked so hope you two are cuddly.”

“I’m telling Aries you cried during Finding Nemo,” Lucy threatened, folding her arms over her chest. “And showing her photographic evidence.”

“Girls love a man who is in turn with his emotions,” Loke waved a hand, turning back to his own group. “Have a fun night, you two.”

“I’m seriously going to kill him,” Natsu grumbled, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about that, are ya sure you’re good sharing?”

“Nothing to do about it now,” Lucy mumbled, turning to walk up the stairs. “It’ll be fine, just like freshman year sleepovers.”

“You kicked me onto the floor during those, if I remember right,” Natsu teased, following her. “Usually, quite harshly.”

“Shouldn't have hogged the blankets, then.”

“Hogged?” Natsu placed a hand over his chest and Lucy scoffed, shaking her head. “You wound me with your falsities, woman.”

“Studying Shakespeare in Lit?” Lucy guessed, coming to a stop outside of their room and bending down to slot the key in. “You forgive him yet?”

“No, this shit is ass,” Natsu groaned, a light thud sounding from where he had let his head slam into the wooden door. “I don’t understand half of what he’s saying and Mavis dating my brother can only carry my grade so far.”

“It shouldn’t carry it at all,” she countered, pushing the door open and snickering at Natsu’s startled yelp. “You’re lucky she hasn’t failed you.”

“Shakespeare’s lucky he was born in a time before me or I’d kick his ass,” Lucy didn’t bother to dignity his retort with a response other than a mocking scoff as she walked over to flip the light switch on. “Oh.”

“Fuck me,” Lucy groaned, glancing over the small room. In any other time, she would’ve used the term cozy but when she’d be sharing it with her best friend that she idiotically agreed to fake-date despite being in love with the fool for the past two years claustrophobic would probably be the better choice. “I’m going to give Aries a list of Loke’s roster.”

“Hey!” Natsu protested, ever the loyal frat brother. “She’s different–”

“I know, idiot,” Lucy dragged a hand down her face. “I’m just joking and pissed off.” She turned back to Natsu, blinking at the strange expression that passed over his face. “You good, Natsu?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s just–” he cut himself off with a laugh that sounded almost sheepish, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“Now I know it’s not nothing,” she walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge to stare up at him. If anything, he grew more nervous, his adam apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Seriously, Natsu, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Luce,” he put his hands up in a mock placating manner. “Just don’t want to know how much shit Loke has planned.” He added, walking over to her to sit beside her.

“He’s really suspicious, huh?” She sighed, folding one ankle over the other. “I guess because we’ve been friends for so long.”

“Shouldn’t that make him less suspicious?” Natsu argued, gaze locked on his hands as he spoke. “I mean, friends fall in love all the time, right?” Lucy tensed, forcing the panging feeling in the chest to subside before she answered. Natsu had never been the best at understanding emotions and he was always far from cruel–he had no way of knowing just how close to the truth he was.

“Yeah, but usually they make a move,” she pointed out, bumping her shoulder against his. “Loke’s probably convinced one of us would’ve said something years ago and that’s why he thinks you’re cheating your way out of the bet–” she shrugged, forcing a smile over her lips. “Which, I mean, you are–”

“Would you?” Natsu cut her off, finally tearing his eyes from where he’d been focused on his hands before. “Tell a friend, I mean.” Another oddly sheepish laugh fell from his lips. “If you loved them.”

Lucy swallowed, ignoring the ache in her heart. “I mean, it depends, I guess?” She fell back onto the bed, letting her head hit the softness of the plush pillow and tried not to wonder if Natsu would still smell of smoke and sandalwood–the way he did during their freshman year sleepovers whenever he’d tangle their legs together in the night before she’d push him out of her bed, before she had realized her feelings and stopped inviting him–or if giving into the cliche was worth it to build a pillow wall.

“On what?” Natsu’s uncharacteristically soft voice was followed by the soft sound of his head hitting the pillow next to her own and she tilted her head, a faint blushing spreading over her cheeks at the near non-existent distance.

“On the friend and our dynamic,” he nodded as she spoke, a pink strand curling over his forehead in an absurdly adorable way. “If I was willing to lose them, if it’d ruin what we have.” If you’d run away screaming, she added, watching the way Natsu’s forehead crinkled in thought.

“Sounds like ya think about it a lot,” Natsu murmured, a soft, nervous, smile playing at his lips. “Anyone in particular?”

“You’re the one asking all the questions,” Lucy reminded him, forcing an easy laugh to tumble from her lips. “Should I be wondering if you’re considering confessing to anyone anytime soon?” She regretted the words the second they left her lips, wished she could reach into the air and gag them back down her throat. She hated herself for uttering them the second a blush as pink as Natsu’s dyed hair spread over his cheeks and a smile so endearing she could feel the yearning in her chest turn to something sharp and green tinged.

“I–” Natsu swallowed, his usual cocky swagger seeming to fail him. “You have to promise not to hate me?”

“Is it someone I don’t like?” Lucy guessed, ignoring the sinking feeling twisting within her gut. “I don’t even think there is a girl I don’t like–is there–or is it like my cousin or–”

“Lucy,” Natsu cut off her rambling, his eyes momentarily dropping her own to glance down at her lips before slowly trailing back up. “If you don’t want this, I really need you to tell me now.”

Lucy could feel the dangerous glimmer of hope grow to a wildfire as she swallowed, forcing the words to slip off her tongue. “Want what?” Again, Natsu’s eyes drifted down to her lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. “Natsu?” Anything else she considered saying was silenced by the soft feel of Natsu’s lips pressing against her own, and honestly, she didn’t feel like talking much after that, anyway.

Lucy practically melted into the kiss, letting her eyes flutter shut as she tangled her fingers in silky, smoke-scented pink, feeling Natsu’s hand wrap around her waist before tugging her closer, a relieved sigh slipping in the space between them. The books she had always gushed to Levy about were wrong about what kissing someone you love was really like, they were so wrong because it was so much better than anything anyone could put in writing. When they finally broke apart, a slightly dumb-struck, dopey grin was painted over Natsu’s face, one Lucy was sure matched the one on her own.

“If that was just for the bet I’m–” she cut herself off with her own shriek as a pillow slammed into her head. “Natsu–” she squealed, raising her arms up to defend herself from the sudden pillow onslaught.

“Don’t ever insult yourself like that again,” he grumbled, holding himself up by one elbow. “Obviously, I like you, I have for years.” Lucy could feel warmth spread over her cheeks, but she was too distracted by being consumed by the warmth within her to care much about her blush.

“Say that again?”

“For years?” Natsu repeated, his usual shit-eating grin back at home on his face. “Weird request, princess.”

“Not that part.”

“I like you,” he said, a warm smile replacing his grin as he ducked his head down, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “I like you so much,” her other cheek, “It’s embarrassing,” he added, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Couldn’t even be mad at Loke because I finally had an excuse to try and make a move.”

“You could’ve always made a move, idiot,” Lucy’s words were laced in an almost sickening fondness as she grinned up at him, half-waiting to hear the blaring of her alarm clock. “Clearly, it would’ve worked.”

“Well, I see that now,” Natsu teased, rolling his eyes. “But, like you said,” he shrugged, pulling her even closer. “Didn’t want to risk losing you.”

“You have me,” she muttered, pressing a kiss to his chest before burying her face against it. “As a best friend and–”

“My girlfriend?” Natsu cut her off, excitement working its way into his tone. “Well, both, but–”

“Both, yes,” it was Lucy’s turn to cut him off, a wide grin spreading over her features. “You have me as both.”

“Forever,” Natsu mused into her hair, his smile evident in his tone. A moment of comfortable silence passed before he spoke again, something akin to dread in his voice. “We have Loke to thank for this.”

“He can never know,” Lucy wasn’t sure if she had ever spoken so fast in her life. “We stick with our old story.”

“Agreed.”

Even if they did have Loke’s stupid bet to thank for them finally getting their shit together, Lucy would never be another reason that man’s ego grew faster than the Grinch’s heart.

[misshunterskye]

merging of worlds ... chapter two: introductions ( ft. sylus. )

word count: 1.4k

content: soulmate talk, sylus is happy you finally remember him (even if it's not in full or from the best source), more plot set-up, sylus is struggling to keep his hands off of you, no beta we die like men

note: hi guys, eevee here! chapter two is here. zorra is not coping well, haha. ( zorra plays love and deepspace on her phone, much like the rest of us — when one day, her job as a journalist collides with her favorite video game. a wanderer in broad daylight in her world [ earth, 2024 ] ) i would adore feedback!

buy me a ko-fi 🫶🏻 read on ao3 - click here to show interest in a zayne verision.

It was hard to pay attention the rest of the day. Once the story went to air, I was free to return to my off day. Not like it was truly an off day anymore. Because now, I knew that everything I’ve been playing on my phone for months was true. Or at least, somewhat true. I raced back to my apartment. My cat, Marley, sat next on the table as I walked in, purring happily as I gave him a passing scratch. Before I knew it, I was pacing the floor of my apartment. 

“So if Wanderers are real -- what the hell kind of chance do I stand?” I muttered to myself as I reached for Marley’s food bowl. However, as I turned to my kitchen, I dropped the bowl with a yelp as I see Sylus standing in the door frame.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathe out, my hand coming over my chest. He seemed to think my shock was cute, but he still gave me a once over to make sure he hadn’t scared me too badly. 

“You forgot to lock your door, Sweetie,” He chided me, his red eyes narrowing. For a second, I thought he was genuinely annoyed. Based on what I knew from him from the game, maybe he is. 

“You--!” I nearly growled. I was a pretty patient person. But my nerves were shot. My fingers found my temple, and I took a deep breath. “You know, you’re not helping. I’m already kind of on edge. Unlike you, I don’t have superpowers--”

He rolled his eyes. “That you know of,” he interjects.

I narrowed my eyes back at him before continuing, “So I have to be a little more on edge in case a Wanderer comes knocking. Because I’m not… I’m not Harley. I’d be dead in three seconds flat!”

I didn’t realize how scared I was of the damn things until that moment. I swallowed hard, looking down. I was ashamed of how high and shrill my voice had become. It’s overtaken another fear I thought that I would have: my looks. 

Isn’t that stupid? To fear how he sees my looks. It isn’t even like he’s come on to me or would be interested. After all, I’m not Harley. I’m not the character I’ve been portraying to him. Harley was the one who fell in love with this former dragon turned man. The man who follows her through every reincarnation.

I hadn’t realized how close Sylus was until his hand was on my shoulder, resting there. Then one, two pats. “Okay. I won’t scare you again… but don’t forget to lock your door. Luke and Kieran are trying to figure out why, but there is a large protocore field emanating from your apartment. You don’t need to be taking any unnecessary risks in the meantime. They’ll also be staged outside the complex. I’ll also be staying. I can take the sofa. But as you mentioned… you’re not equipped to deal with a Wanderer. Sorry, kitten.”

He dropped his hand away from my shoulder. A smirk started to take over his features. “But you have to admit -- you were going to spend the night with me on that app anyway,” he teased. 

It was the first real acknowledgement of the fact he was from my favorite mobile video game. Correction, not just any video game. One where you dated each of the main boys, each with their own branch and stories to unlock with you. And I blushed. Hard. Of course, I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t attracted to him. But did he really have to point out that I romanced his character every night? My blush only seems to make him more amused, so I clear my throat and look away.

“You’re going to stay here? With me? Don’t you have to get back to the game? To Harley?” I pointed out. His eyebrow furrowed as he listened to me, but he still seemed relaxed. I don’t know what I was expecting but he stepped closer, looking down at me from his bulking height. I found myself getting lost in his eyes.

“Rule number one, you don’t spook the kitten,” he said, and it seems more of a reminder to himself than something he was saying to me. But he shook his head right after that.  “You’ve been playing the game for months now, Zorra. Why don’t you tell me about the story between me and.. this Harley.”

My eyebrow furrowed as I pondered how to respond. From what we’ve been given, I know that there was a time where Harley was cast out as a ‘sorceress’ and made a villain. She stumbled across Sylus -- a dragon. Instead of killing her, he was connected to her. From there, they fell in love, doomed for him to die and for her to follow not soon after.

So, I recounted that, as best as I could to him. He listened with a cool look on his face. Almost like he was trying not to give anything away. Then both of his eyes shut and a smile flits across his lips.

A full smile.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because after all these reincarnations, after all these times, this is the soonest you’ve gotten most of the full story. Even if it’s not all...x even if it’s some video game retelling… it’s something,” Sylus said, and now, he seemed to not be able to control himself.

His hands found the sides of my face. For such large hands, they hold my visage so delicately. I felt like I was under a spell. He’s so big, but for some reason -- I just knew he would never hurt me. Something felt different in me. New. 

“Harley is not real. Harley is a username that you typed in. You are what I was attracted to. You’re the one I’ve been finding, over and over. -- Admittedly, sometimes it’s easier than others.” He frowned. His thumb traced over my cheekbone. “I’d like to specify that getting out of a phone app is one of the harder challenges we’ve faced. But I believe it’s not the only challenge we’re going to face.”

I was bright red. I could see myself in the mirror in the corner of my kitchen, and it was enough to pull me out of this trance. I started to fan myself as I pulled away. “You’re very forward,” I gasped.

“And you’ve always loved it,” he drawled. He headed toward my sofa before plopping down. It’s actually funny. My couch is smaller than average. When I was on it, it seemed proportional. With Sylus taking up most of the space, it looks like a small loveseat. “I could be more forward. I’m intentionally not using my Evol until you learn how to use yours. I’m trying not to be overwhelming, sweetie.”

I let out a noise that sounded mangled as I finally straightened up to follow him into the living room area. “Yeah, you’re doing a great job, bud. I just learned a lot of information in like two minutes. I’m totally not freaking out about any of that.”

“I get it. It’s hard to find out you have a stunning soulmate.” He said, all charm. 

“Agh!” was the noise I made that time. “You’re doing absolutely awful on the overwhelming part.”

Before I could ask anymore questions, my phone buzzed. There was silence in the room as I stared at the screen. Camden. I put a single finger up at Sylus and answered the phone. He seemed annoyed but watched anyway.

“Hey, Zorra!” Camden’s easy voice came over the phone. There was a pause before he continued. “You saw the major outlets picked up the story, right? It’s all over the place, the video we shot. And they loved the way you set it up.”

I smiled, enjoying a bit of praise. Management seemed to be tight-lipped about when you did good things, so it was nice to hear it. Sylus’ head tilted to the side. 

“Thanks, Camden,” I said. 

“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for the help today. Good job.” 

The rest of the conversation was pleasant. To be honest, that if the conversation had happened even just a day prior, I would have been over the moon. My crush would have grown. But sitting there after what Sylus had just said?

I don’t feel even the slightest attraction to Camden now.

When the call ended, Sylus sat up… looking rather enthralled to have my attention again. “So, kitten. Feeling a little calmer now? Yes, no, maybe so?”

[pinkeoni]

WILL'S EYES WIDEN WHEN HE RECOGNIZES BRENNER. It sends a chill down his spine.

LUT used

[consultingfujoshi]

2023 good omens fandom would never survive may 2019 when the entirety of season 1 got leaked on the emmy fyc site and me and several other blogs spent the entire month slowly feeding people spoilers and screenshots and we all shared the fucking google drive folder with the leaked episodes still with a watermark over them and spoke to each other about it publicly in riddles and it was the best month of our fucking lives. like we did that shit because it was funny it was like we were all staying up past our bedtime and getting away with it. you are all so boring now

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛