#when both of them were already on first name basis on the first chapter of his route/also on tokiya and ren's route too

[blueesnow]

(6/6) Kurusu Syo's Private Story [Utapri Live Emotion]

Ch 1: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 6 with Syo)

-Waterfront Park- Syo: One two, three four, five six, seven eight…! Haruka: Was that…Syo-kun! Hello, were you doing an exercise? Syo: Oh, Haruka! I'm in the middle of training right now. An idol's body is their biggest asset y'know. Syo: Not to mention I also have work that required a lot of physical ability next time so I need to go and build up my strength for now. Haruka: As expected of Syo-kun, you're all ready and set! Syo: What are you talking about, thing like this is quite normal y'know. How about you? Looking at your luggage, were you on your way back from work? Haruka: Yeah, I was just about to go back to the dorm… hm? Syo-kun, it looks like your shoelaces are about to coming undone. Syo: Oh, thanks. …There you go. These sneakers are getting pretty worn out huh. Syo: These one has been my favourite and I've been wearing it for a long time, though I guess it finally reached its limit huh. The heels are also quite worn out too. Haruka: But… just because of that, it's proof that they had been walking on the same path together with Syo-kun, right? Haruka: I'm sure these sneakers are happy to know that you have been loving them for so long. Syo: That's a great way of thinking! Likewise, thank you for always taking care of me, my sneakers. Syo: Alright. I guess I'll finish my training for now and go buy something to carry on this guy's legacy. Haruka: I hope you have another wonderful encounter once again. Syo: Of course! Oh yeah, if you don't mind would you be willing to accompany me to go shopping right now?

Ch 2: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 11 with Syo)

-Waterfront Park- Haruka: Is it okay to go with me…? Syo: Yeah, I'd like to hear your opinions as well. Ah… but if you have other plans feel free to say no, okay? (choices) <I want to go!>Haruka: I'm free right now, so let me go with you! Syo: Is that so, I'm glad. Thank you for lending me your important day off. Syo: After we're done, let's go grab a bite and eat something delicious on our way back home. <If you're okay with me> Haruka: If you're okay with me then it'd be my pleasure. Though I don't know if I might be of help to you… Syo: As long as we're having fun choosing it together, then it's okay. Syo: If I went there all by myself I might get confused and just choose similar things, so having you come with me really helps me out! (back to story) Syo: All right. Let's go back to the dorm first and put our things away, we'll meet by the gate soon okay! -Shopping Mall- Syo: …Oh, there it is! I was wondering if this brand's latest model would be good. Haruka: Oh, it's the brand of Syo-kun's favorite sneakers. Syo: They look so cool~ This one… Oh this one also looks good too. You know what, let's try them on. Tell me what you thought about it, okay! Syo: First…it's this one! What do you think? Haruka: It suits you so well! I think it really highlights Syo-kun's personality when you wear them. Syo: Hmm this one might be good! Well then for the other one… Oh, this one feels much more slender and stylish than before. Haruka: Wow…this one is cool too! Somehow it kinda brings out a different atmosphere of Syo-kun than usual, giving a fresh impression. Syo: Fresh huh, it might be good too. Ahh I'm confused on which one to choose. If it comes to this….Haruka, you decide! Haruka: (It's a big role…! Buf if you just look at Syo-kun's expression then the answer is only one.)

Ch 3: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 21 with Syo)

-Shopping Mall- Haruka: To me… it's the sneakers on the left side! Syo: Oh, these? Can I ask you the reason why you choose this one? Haruka: If I'm to be honest…it's because it perfectly matched with Syo-kun's smile. Syo: …I see. Well then, I decided. I'm going to buy this one that you choose! Haruka: Wah, is it okay just like that? Syo: Yeah. I'm happy to hear your take on it. Somehow it resonated within my heart. Syo: Before I make other people happy, I have to make myself happy first, right! Haruka: That's right. I think all of your fans are always being encouraged by Syo-kun's cheerful appearance. Syo: Hehe, thanks. And of course the fact that I choose this with you is also part of the reason too. Syo: When I remember about what happened today, I feel like it'll give me strength to take the first step forward. Syo: And once you see that side of me later, I hope you feel something and gain an inspiration from it. Syo: I…really love the music that you made. Wouldn't it be great if we inspire each other? Haruka: Syo-kun…to think that's how you thought about it. Thank you so much. Syo: You don't have to thank me! And besides, since I said all of that, I really have to show you my cool side later along with this guy. Syo: During training and even on important matches, I'll be going to rely a lot on you okay. So let's get along well from now on, partner!

Ch 4: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 31 with Syo)

-A Hill Overlooking The Sea- Syo: Oh…Haruka! Over here! Thank you for coming here today. Haruka: Likewise, thank you for inviting me out too. Haruka: To think that the job that you mentioned before that use physical ability was actually a CM shoot for a sports brand. Syo: I was chosen as the PR character for it. And guess what, it's the brand of the sneakers you and I went shopping for before! Syo: And then, they told me that it was okay to use my own shoes for today's filming. That's why… Syo: Look, it's the sneakers that you chose! I've been wearing them for today. Haruka: Wow…! As I thought it fits perfectly on you. Syo: Thank you! I also took a liking to it. Well then, I should prepare to do a warming up first. Syo: That's right Haruka, can you help me out a bit? I need you to push my back so that I can bend forward as far as I can. (choices) <Well then… here!> Haruka: Well then, here I go…! Syo: Whoa! Haha, that's good. That really stretch me up. Syo: Alright! I'm getting fired up! I'll be counting on you for the next one too! <I'm going to push it a little okay> Haruka: It'd be a problem if you were to get hurt, so I'm going to push it just a little okay… How about this? Syo: It's okay, you can put more power into it y'know. If it's like that then I can't properly stretch my body. Syo: Just push me like you're about lean your body on me! …Oh, this one feels great! Keep it going around this pace. (back to story) - Syo: …Phew, my body feels limber and flexible now. Thanks, you really help me out! Haruka: I'm glad I could be of help. Good luck on the filming! Syo: Right, I'll be going now. I'll be done with a bang!

Ch 5: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 41 with Syo)

-A Hill Overlooking The Sea- Staff: We're going to shoot the action scene first, and then we'll add the voice afterward. Feel free to run and fly away! Syo: I understand—! …So I just need to go past the two obstacles and then jump onto the mat at the end. Alright. Haruka: (The obstacles are actually pretty high, I wonder if it'll be okay… Oh, they finally started filming now) Syo: Here I go~… Take this—!! Haruka: (Wow, what an incredible jump strength! But, the next one is more higher than before…!) Syo: I'm not done yet! Let's go with all of our might and strength! Just one more… Ha!! Syo: …All right, I did it! That felt really great…! Haruka: (…I got so absorbed in watching him that I even forgot how to breathe. Syo-kun, you're really amazing…!) - Syo: Oii, Haruka! DId you see that just now? Haruka: Yes, totally! Syo-kun, you look really cool! Syo: Thanks. It's all thanks to this sneakers that you chose for me, it gives me all of the strength to do that jump. Haruka: I'm happy that I'd be able to help. But… I don't think that's the only reason why the filming turned out good. Haruka: I believe that all of Syo-kun's daily efforts up to this day had contributed to today's result! Syo: Hm…you're right. I also think that I'm glad that I have been training my body consistently too. Syo: Although I might look like this now, but in truth, I used to have a weak body when I was young.

Ch 6: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 51 with Syo)

-A Hill Overlooking The Sea- Syo: It's hard to imagine it now right, that I used to have a weak body. But, I used to get hospitalized quite often when I was a kid. Syo: I was shocked when I saw Hyuga Ryuya on the TV for the very first time. He's really strong, and shining very brightly. Syo: At that time I thought I really wanted to be like that someday, it's something that I admired. And that's the story how I started aiming to become an idol. Haruka: (So that's how you thought…) Syo: There were actually a lot of things that happened before I got here, but now I'm doing a job that requires a lot of physical ability. Syo: Well… I still didn't get taller. But it's because I'm like this that I want to show people of my cool side. Syo: I'd be happy if I could become an existence who can give courage to someone, just like how Hyuga Ryuya did to me in the past. Haruka: Syo-kun… Syo: Ah, no… What's with me getting all fired up on this talk. Syo: Sorry, I ended up talking a lot by myself. It was boring, isn't it. Haruka: No, I think the fact that you're able to speak openly and express your passion is very cool! Syo: I-Is that so…? Well, how do I say this. Um…thanks. Syo: It's because you were here that I was able to work really hard for today. If you don't mind, would you come and see me on my work again? Haruka: As long as I'm not a bother to you, then it'd be my pleasure. I want to see Syo-kun shine brightly again. Syo: It's a promise, okay. Alright, I'll do my best on my next job as well—!

[miapotterismyfav]

Innocence

———————————————

Summary: Sirius Black thought he had Y/N all figured out—until one offhand comment sends his world into a tailspin and unearths far more than he bargained for.

Matching: Siriusxfem!reader, Remusxfem!reader

Previous part, next part

Masterlist

———————————————

Chapter three: Merlin herself

“Alright, I’ve got to go,” Marlene said, tugging her sweater over her head and smoothing down her wild curls.

“You have to go?” Sirius repeated, pushing up on one elbow. “Since when?”

She didn’t answer right away—just hummed as she dug around for a stray earring on the floor.

“Oh, I’ve got a party,” she said lightly, like it was no big deal.

Sirius blinked. “You have a party that I don’t know about?”

Marlene froze mid-crouch.

“Uhh,” she got out, casually fumbling with her trainers. “It’s—well—it’s Y/N’s.”

Silence.

Sirius sat up fully, staring at her like she’d just told him she was betrothed to a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“It’s not that deep—” Marlene started.

“What sort of twisted, cursed, alternate-fucking-reality have I stepped into?” Sirius cut in, voice rising. “Y/N throws parties?”

“You’ve been to one of her parties,” Marlene insisted, now tying her shoelaces with unnecessary focus.

“No I haven’t,” Sirius snapped.

“Yes, you have. You know—the Room of Requirement ones, every few months?”

He stared at her. Blinked once.

Then: “Those parties? The insane ones with the floating lights and the enchanted speakers and the enchanted drinks and—wait, what do you mean those are hers?!”

Marlene winced at the pitch of his voice.

“I thought they were thrown by, like, Merlin himself,” Sirius continued. “Or some secret, sexy committee of seventh-year gods—but Y/N? No. Way.”

“She’s kind of the whole engine behind them,” Marlene admitted, standing and brushing herself off. “Room reads what she’s in the mood for. It’s very sexy and powerful of her.”

Sirius groaned and flopped backward onto the bed, eyes wide, hand flung dramatically across his chest. “Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Well, you’re not really invited,” Marlene said, moving to the door. “You either know… or you don’t.”

She flashed him a wink and disappeared into the corridor with a casual: “See you there, if you find it.”

Sirius stared up at the ceiling like it had personally betrayed him.

“This is unbelievable,” he muttered, voice thick with disbelief and something dangerously close to awe.

—————————————————————————

Somewhere deep in the dungeons, beneath flickering green torchlight and the low hum of enchanted plumbing, Y/N was singing to herself as she rifled through her wardrobe.

The other Slytherin girls pretended not to notice—though several threw very pointed glances her way. She was already in a black lace bralette and a long silk skirt, her hair twisted up in a messy clip as she held two corset tops in either hand like they were the final two contenders for the Triwizard Cup.

“Thoughts?” she asked, not looking at them.

No one answered.

It wasn’t that they didn’t like her. They liked her fine, in that we-all-live-together-and-she’s-unreasonably-hot sort of way. But they never quite knew what to make of her.

She didn’t believe in blood supremacy (strike one), she spent a lot of time in the library with Remus Lupin (strike two), and most offensively of all, she was on a first-name basis with at least three of the Hogwarts house elves (strike three, expelled).

“Going for ‘dangerous but approachable’,” she muttered to herself, holding up the black one. “Or do we think ‘ethereal with a hint of menace’?”

Still no answer.

She shrugged, tossed both tops on the bed, and reached for a pair of knee-high boots that would make her legs look a mile long and sound like a slow death when she walked. She liked the attention. She just didn’t need it.

She slipped her wand into her boot, slicked on lipstick the colour of bruised cherries, and threw on a vintage black leather jacket like she’d accidentally looked that good.

—————————————————————————

“Miss Y/N!” squeaked a voice as soon as she pushed open the portrait.

“Hello, Tippi,” she grinned, crouching down to hug the tiny house elf who immediately clung to her leg.

“Miss Y/N, your party tonight!” Tippi buzzed, eyes wide and bright. “We’ve finished the enchanted cocktail pumpkins and the floating macarons! And Cooky added the sparkler sparklers like you asked!”

“You’re the best, Tipp,” she said, pressing a kiss to the elf’s head. “And I brought the thing I promised.”

She pulled a small wooden box out of her enchanted tote and handed it over with a flourish.

Tippi opened it, gasped, and nearly fainted.

“Socks,” she whispered reverently. “With the little dragons…”

“Cashmere,” Y/N said. “And fireproof. Figured you’d earned it.”

Several of the other house elves began to clap—some discreetly, some with the subtlety of a thunderstorm.

Y/N helped them levitate the food crates to the Room of Requirement’s entrance point, careful to shield the whole operation under a charm of secrecy.

When one elf tried to bow too low, she gently kicked at him with her boot. “Absolutely not,” she scolded. “Mutual respect only.”

By the time the party started, the Room of Requirement had transformed into a dimly lit dream: pulsing music, velvet couches, cauldrons of magical drinks that shimmered when stirred. Y/N moved through it like the host of an exclusive fever dream, greeting people with a kiss on the cheek or a low-laughing joke that made them feel chosen.

She was magnetic. Everyone either wanted her or wanted to be her.

—————————————————————————

Remus stood in front of the mirror in their dorm, adjusting the collar of his shirt with an air of calm he absolutely did notfeel.

He’d been pacing internally all day, wondering if she’d wear that sheer green number again—the one that made his brain short-circuit every time she leaned too close. He wanted to get there early, maybe help her with the last-minute charms. Maybe steal a moment. A kiss, if he was lucky. Two if she smiled that soft, secret smile just for him.

But Sirius was sitting on the edge of his bed, arms crossed and jaw tight, clearly gearing up to ruin everything.

“I just—how did I not know she was like this?”

Remus sighed. Loudly.

“Like what, Sirius?”

“Like this, Remus!” Sirius gestured vaguely. “Throwing secret parties in the Room of Requirement? Being cool and—mysterious and—socially aware—I mean, did you know she hangs out with the house elves?!”

“Yes.”

“House elves, Moony.”

“She used to sit with Kreacher and have tea with him when you two were kids.”

Sirius whipped around. “Wait, what?”

“I asked her about it once. He made her these weird lumpy biscuits and she ate them. Said he reminded her of her gran.”

Sirius blinked. “I thought I hallucinated that.”

Remus smirked. “You didn’t.”

“Are you upset Kreacher likes her and not you?” Remus asked.

“I’m upset about—everything,” Sirius groaned, flopping back on the bed like a man defeated. “I feel like I don’t even know her.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “You don’t.”

That made Sirius sit up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus turned, arms crossed now. “It means you don’t know her. Because you haven’t tried to. Not since first year.”

“That’s not true,” Sirius said too quickly.

“She got sorted into Slytherin and you decided that was it,” Remus continued. “That she wasn’t worth the effort. That she’d gone dark or cold or—what was the word you used?”

Sirius winced. “Frigid.”

“There it is.” Remus’s voice was sharp now.

Sirius scoffed. “We drifted.”

“No, you got moody that your best friend didn’t end up in your house and then called her frigid for four years straight.”

Sirius winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“She heard you. Everyone did.”

“You threw her into some neat little box and left her there. Meanwhile, she was out here building a whole life. Making friends. Running half the school without a whisper of it getting back to you because you never looked.”

“I didn’t discard her,” Sirius snapped.

“Yes, you did,” Remus said evenly. “You discarded her the second she wasn’t your blushing little shadow anymore. The second she stopped giggling at your jokes and you didn’t get to be the centre of her world.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched.

“You can’t be upset that she made a name for herself apart from you,” Remus added, quieter now. “Not when you were the one who made it clear she didn’t belong in your orbit anymore.”

Silence.

For once, Sirius didn’t have a retort.

He just stared down at his hands, brows drawn together like he was trying to work through a puzzle that had rewritten its pieces overnight.

Remus turned back to the mirror.

“She’s not the one who disappeared, mate,” he said, voice soft again. “You just stopped looking.”

—————————————————————————

The Room of Requirement had never looked like this.

There were stars projected against the enchanted ceiling—soft, warm orbs of gold that pulsed with the beat of the music. Velvet armchairs were tucked into corners, drinks hovered lazily in midair, and couples swayed or stumbled across a dance floor that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

Sirius stepped over the threshold, still mid-sulk from the conversation with Remus, ready to scoff, to judge—to prove to himself that this was all overhyped nonsense.

And then he saw her.

She was near the back, perched half on a table, laughing at something Barty Crouch Jr. said (which—what the actual fuck). A glass in her hand, one leg swinging carelessly, that way too see-through bralette, he couldn’t look directly at for too long or he might combust. Her sheer tights had tiny stars stitched into them, her boots reached her knees, and over it all—like some casually thrown gauntlet—she wore a black leather jacket that did something completely unspeakable to his already short-circuiting brain.

Her makeup was sharp and playful—smoky green eyeshadow with gold at the corners, mascara thick enough to frame those lashes when she blinked slowly, deliberately. Her lip gloss shimmered with just enough pink to be dangerous.

Her hair was pinned up but already slipping loose, and her eyes—God, her eyes—flashed like she knew exactly where he was standing. Like she’d summoned him.

She tipped her head back and laughed. Not polite. Not quiet. The kind of laugh that made people lean in.

Sirius forgot how to breathe.

It wasn’t just the outfit. Or the lip gloss. Or the fact that she’d apparently become a legend behind his back.

It was that he’d never seen her like this.

Never really seen her at all.

Someone passed in front of him and he blinked, throat dry. Her glass caught the candlelight and glinted gold. Someone tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled at them—easy, bright, gorgeous—and Sirius felt something unfamiliar twist beneath his ribs.

She looked up again.

And this time, she did see him.

Her smile didn't falter.

But it sharpened.

Like she was saying: You again.

And Sirius—so often the centre of the room—stood completely still, unable to remember how to move.

—————————————————————————

Remus had seen Sirius in a lot of moods.

He'd seen him smug. Furious. Ridiculously charming. Jealous, once or twice. Theatrically hungover.

But he’d never seen him like this.

Sirius stood stiff near the entrance, eyes locked on the far end of the room like he'd seen a ghost—or a Veela. Mouth parted, chest rising and falling just slightly too fast. And Remus didn’t even have to follow his line of sight to know what, or rather who, he was looking at.

Y/N.

Of course.

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his spot near the drinks table, suddenly wishing he hadn’t bothered coming. Or at least hadn’t come with hope tucked stupidly behind his ribs like it wouldn’t get bruised.

She’d kissed him behind the greenhouses. Twice.

She’d held his hand under the table during one of Slughorn’s endless dinners.

She’d smiled at him like he was a secret she liked keeping.

But she had history with Sirius. Something golden and half-forgotten. Something that might’ve mattered, once. Maybe still did.

And Sirius… Sirius had that way about him. That pull. That impossible gravity that made everyone orbit, eventually. Even the ones who swore they wouldn’t.

Remus stared into his cup, jaw tight.

He didn’t have the leather jackets or the reckless charm. He had scars. Quiet hands. A library of reasons he’d convinced himself she’d get tired of. And maybe this—whatever this was—had only ever been temporary. A brief curiosity. A blip before gravity won again.

He shouldn’t be surprised.

He shouldn’t be hurt.

But Merlin, he was.

And when Sirius exhaled sharply like he'd just remembered how lungs worked, Remus had to look away.

———————————————————————————

Tag list:

@bache3

@amatoanima

@captainlunaxmen

@sodavrr

@mayuwolfstar

@the-lavender-girl

@beekeepingageissome

@starmaniii

@infinitely-astro

@cupidblyss

Next part

Masterlist

[frickyeahfanfic]

〉the enemy of my enemy

chapter 4 - breach.

ethan hunt x f!reader 》 read chapter 1 here - playlist here summary: You’re alone. Prague is the first real lead you’ve had on VANTAGE since everything went haywire—and you’re not about to let some fancy IMF agent ruin your shot. But when Ethan Hunt intercepts you mid-mission, everything spirals. word count: 3178 tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, mission impossible warnings: some fighting and violence a/n: writing scenes like these are tough. but the chapters are getting longer, can you tell??

MARSEILLE. PROVINCE AIRPORT,  13:34 HOURS.

You glance out at the rising sun through the small oval window. Marseille is waiting.  And you’re starting to believe you might actually stand a chance. Which means VANTAGE is going to try harder to kill you both.

“Hey.” 

A hand is on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake. 

“We’re here.”

You groan, your neck sore from resting at a weird angle for four hours.

“Benji is coming to pick us up,” Hunt says, grabbing his backpack from under the seat. 

You’re still waking up and only now realize your head had been resting on Hunt’s shoulder for most of the flight.

And he hadn’t moved you.

You get up and follow him off the plane, too groggy to speak. You’re pretty sure nothing coherent would come out anyway.

Once outside, a black Audi pulls up to the curb and you both jump in. 

“So are you gonna tell me who the girl is?” The man in the driver's seat asks. You recognize his heavy British accent from Hunt’s phone calls. You make eye contact with him through the rearview mirror. His blue eyes are softer than Hunt’s, and you instantly feel more at ease. But you’re careful not to let your guard down quite yet. 

“She’s…” Hunt begins, but trails off. 

She’s what? You want him to finish his words. She’s annoying. She’s a liability. She’s in the way. 

“She’s young,” the driver says, squinting up at you. 

You shift uncomfortably. You get the feeling they aren’t just talking about age. 

“You must be Benji,” you interject.

He nods and smiles. “Right you are, and you?”

Hunt cuts in and says your last name, the only name he knows you by. 

“That’s an odd name,” Benji laughs. 

You pull the blonde wig off your head, mirroring Hunt taking off his hoodie. “It’s not my first name,” you say flatly. You were still somewhat bitter that Hunt figured it out. 

Benji huffs. “Ah, we’re all a bit on a first name basis, aren’t we, Ethan?” He turns and looks at the other agent. 

“Well, I’m not one of you.”

“Well, unfortunately for now, you are. Welcome to the team!”

As irritated as you thought you’d be with this… jovial British man, you’re endeared by his positive disposition. It’s a stark contrast of what you’ve been dealing with in the past 48 hours. 

After a few minutes, Benji pulls the car into a garage underneath a building of apartments. The narrow streets make driving tricky, but Benji was careful not to scrape the car. 

The three of you head up into a small apartment, decked out in computers and equipment that are already set up and ready to go. There’s a large hologram map projected over the wall, showing a massive compound. 

The first relay facility. You had once overheard about this facility being used for VANTAGE. 

“Here’s where the first real coordinates pointed us,” Benji says, tossing his keys into a bowl and walking over to the hologram. He pinches his fingers and opens them, causing the hologram to zoom in. You can see the rows of servers now, surrounded by nothing but steel walls.

“We need to get access to a certain server, here-” Benji makes a tapping motion, and one of the server racks lights up. “We’ll get the credentials and internal relay routing maps from VANTAGE’s underground server node. Without those, we won’t be able to decrypt and gain access to the next target node.”

You simply nod, listening intently to his words. “Alright, how do we get in?”

“And out?” Hunt chimes in. 

Benji grins, but he’s clearly stressed. One bead of sweat drips on his forehead, either from the heat outside or the exertion of coming up with the plan.

“I’ll be outside in the surveillance van and I’ll get in through the building’s security feed. You’ll both enter together through the dock access. As you move through the building, walk a little slower so I can cut out the cameras at the right time, got it?” 

You and Hunt nod simultaneously. 

“Once you’re inside, Ethan, you’ll split off toward the secondary control room and plant an uplink. It’ll give me temporary access to their isolated network. You’ll also draw guard presence, just enough noise to clear a path.

Benji turns fully to you now. 

“That’s your window. We need you to slip in the server room to breach and download the routing keys from the vault terminal. Without them, we can’t breach the second relay point.”

Your mind is running through all the risks. “What if we don’t pull this off cleanly?”

Benji’s lips tighten. “The relays are all linked. If two nodes get compromised without proper sequencing or if we hit a ‘tripwire’, the entire network goes into lockdown. We won’t get another shot.”

He turns around and faces the projection again. “There’s an elevator here. This is where you two will regroup and get out. It’s closest to the west exit. I’ll use a magnetic lift so it moves faster because you most certainly will have trouble following you.” 

You swallow. There’s a million ways this could go wrong. But I guess that’s why it’s called the Impossible Mission Force… 

“Sounds like a plan,” Hunt says dryly.

He walks by Benji and starts changing into the clothes laid out for him. He’s stuffing an earpiece in when he looks back at you, glued to the floor. “We don’t have all day.”

“We’re doing this, now?” You ask incredulously. 

He’s wrapping his hands with some black tape. “Unless you have another idea, this is our only shot.”

“You mean, now now?” You blink. You were all for spontaneous adventure but this was a suicide mission. 

Benji chuckles slightly, and you dart a menacing look at him. He shuts up quickly, and grabs a vest off of a nearby table. He comes closer to you and hands it out. “This is a vitals vest. I’ll be able to watch you both carefully with it on. If anything happens to you, I’ll be the first to know. We prefer our agents, alive, you know.” Benji smiles weakly at you. 

“Thanks,” you say. Benji hands you some black clothes with his other hand, and you head to the bathroom to change. 

Once dressed, you head out and walk over to Hunt. 

“Hey, we’re matching,” you say, grinning. “All black. Maybe one of us should change.”

“It’s not a choice. It’s protocol.” He says, adjusting a gun to his leg.

You raise an eyebrow. “You sound fun at parties.”  

“Ooh, I like her,” Benji says, which elicits a sigh from Hunt. Now there’s two of you against him. 

Benji tosses you some keys, and you catch them effortlessly. 

“Your ride, outside. Comms are live and ready and I’ll be taking a different route but staying close by. Once I’m in position, I’ll give the signal and you both can advance with the plan, deal?” 

“Deal,” you and Hunt say in unison. 

You dangle the keys in front of Hunt. “I get to drive this time.” You tease. 

Hey. If they’re gonna call you “young”, you might as well live up to it. 

You walk out of the apartment with Hunt trailing behind you. You can practically feel the tension radiating off his body. He’s in mission-mode now. 

Once outside, you click the button on the keys. Not a single car on the street lights up. 

But a moped does. A single, bright red scooter. 

You both freeze. 

You turn back to the building, and watch as a van drives out of the garage.

“Benji!” You yell into the comms. You just about run after the van. 

In your earpiece, a voice crackles over. “I’m sorry! It was either this or a bakery truck. Thought it would be a little more inconspicuous,” he pauses, then says, “and would allow for some more team bonding!” 

“I’m not part of the team,” you mutter. You slowly turn to look at Hunt, biting back a smile. He’s smiling too. But it’s more of a ‘I’m-gonna-kill-that-man’ smile.  

“Red is so your color, Y/l/n.” Benji’s voice comes over the comms again. 

“You still want to drive?” Hunt rolls his eyes. 

With a smug look on your face, you swing a leg over the moped and start the scooter. 

“Yep. Come on,” you pat the seat behind you. “Or you’re getting left behind.” 

“I think you’re forgetting I’m your bait. You won’t get in the server room without me,” he mutters, but climbs onto the seat behind you. As he settles in, you can tell he’s trying so hard not to hold onto you. 

Can this man just let go of his ego for once? 

You rev the scooter and accelerate just a little too fast. He grunts and grabs onto your waist instinctively. 

You’re not sure if it’s the nerves from the mission or the closeness of Hunt’s body to yours, but you feel your stomach do a flip. Hopefully Benji’s vitals vest doesn’t catch the spike in your heart rate. 

In a few minutes, you arrive at the relay facility. It’s perched on the edge of the water, and you spot quickly where the loading dock is. You zip the scooter over there and stop. Waiting for Benji’s command. 

“Romeo and Juliet, the first systems are offline. Please, be careful,” Benji says in the comms. 

You instantly cringe. “Romeo and Juliet?” 

“Just roll with it, I didn’t have much time to get creative. You have approximately twenty seconds to get in the door.” Benji responds quickly but you can hear his smile in his voice. 

Parking the moped, you and Hunt jump off and sneak around a few trucks, staying out of sight of the guards around the loading dock. A truck starts moving towards the garage door, and you and Hunt both roll under it, and grab the underside, using it as a vessel to enter the facility. 

“Okay, now split,” Hunt whispers to you once inside, letting go of the truck and heading towards the control room. You go in the opposite direction, staying low and entering into a dim hallway. 

Blood is rushing to your ears and you can see more clearly. The adrenaline is kicking in. 

“Juliet, take a left and head down the stairs. The server room should be on your right,” you hear in your earpiece. 

“You don’t need to call me that, Benji,” you say as you hurry down the stairs.

He sighs. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell us your first name, we have to give you one.”

“What about Romeo?” You snap at him. 

There’s two guards by the server room doors. You hide behind a corner, trying to calculate how to take both of them down without raising the alarm. 

“Uhhh, well you have to match, I guess-”

He’s cut off by the sound of you hitting one of the guards. The second guard turns about to shoot at you, but you launch towards him, knocking his gun out of his hands and tackling him down. 

“Okay. Ethan’s placing the uplink right now. You should have access in three, two,-”

There’s a click at the door in front of you. You swing it open and jump inside. 

“I don’t know who that is. I only know about Romeo,” You mumble. Hopefully the comms are separated by agent and Hunt isn’t listening to this whole conversation. 

“Seventh row, third rack in. Fine fine, I’ll drop the nicknames…. I just thought it would be fun…” Benji admits defeat. 

You find the tall server rack that Benji had indicated before, and open the grate. There’s hundreds of wires and boxes, but you pinpoint the access point immediately. With a thumb drive you pull out of your pocket, you jam it in and wait till you get the confirmation. 

Your comms crackle on. “Sorry, Y/l/n. Ethan’s in a little bit of trouble. But the data is almost finished downloading. Count down from ten and then pull it out.” 

Okay, stay calm. Although Hunt drove you crazy, you didn’t want to lose your most capable ally now. After ten seconds, you pull the drive out and head back the way you came. 

There’s almost no guards anywhere, since Hunt was taking the heat. Hopefully not too much heat. You rush down a hallway and spot the elevator that you and Hunt were supposed to meet up at, but there’s no tall, brooding agent in sight. 

“Benji, what’s happening?” You hiss. 

“Get out of there, quick. You have the drive, and that’s what we need right now. We can’t risk the network going into lockdown.” Benji’s comms are fuzzy and you can barely make out what he’s saying. Must be a weaker signal from where you’re standing. 

You spin around, looking for any sign of Hunt. “Where is he?” 

“Hunt’s vitals just went blank. Y/l/n, abort mission, now!” Benji yells. 

The elevator stands open now, but you don’t move. “I’m not leaving him behind!” 

“He’ll figure it out! You’re compromising the mission!”

You shake your head and start running like hell, ignoring Benji’s incoherent shouting in your ear. Up two flights of stairs and burst into the control room, where a guard has Hunt at point blank, tied to a chair with some heavy metal wiring. Hunt’s face is dripping with sweat and blood, his vitals vest is torn, and there’s bruises on his bare arms. His dark hair is completely disheveled and he’s panting hard. 

There’s several bodies on the ground, taken down by Hunt himself. But eventually he was overpowered. 

An armed man steps in front of you and points a rifle at you, but you shove a hand underneath it and thrust upwards, causing bullets to rip into the ceiling above. With one hand on the gun pointed away from you, you stab a knife in the man’s chest, eliminating him from the mix. 

You rip the rifle out of his hands and start shooting at the other two guards in the room. One hits the ground and the other one dashes behind Hunt, taking cover behind his body. He’s unarmed so this shouldn’t be too hard, you think to yourself. The magazine clicks blank, and you toss the gun to the side, and unsheath two more knives concealed on your body. 

Heart pounding, you lunge for the man behind Hunt. You manage to slice his leg, and he yells in agony - but he’s fast. He grabs your other wrist, twists it, and throws you backwards. Stars dance across your vision as your head slams against the floor.  

You manage to roll back and wrap your legs around your attacker’s torso, yanking him to the ground. Before he can recover, you deliver one nasty blow with your elbow to his nose, and forcefully drive a knife into his stomach. He goes limp.

You scramble up, scanning for more guards, and for now, the coast is clear. 

Rushing to Hunt, you draw one of your blades and slice through the wiring keeping him in place. Once the last wire drops, he jumps out of the chair. 

“Why the hell did you come back?” He snaps, breath ragged.

Your mouth gapes open. “How about, thank you?”

There’s no time to bicker. Alarms start blaring and red lights flash over the concrete walls and you both run through the facility. As you weave through the facility, you finally make your way to the elevator. Just like Benji had said, once you both step inside, it rockets upwards. The second the doors open, you sprint out of the west exit. 

Gunshots crack in the distance. You spot Benji’s van screeching around the corner. More guards pour out behind you, yelling. 

You and Hunt dive into the van just as bullets strike the ground behind you. Benji floors it, and the compound disappears behind you in a blur. 

“Did you get the credentials?” Hunt pants, clutching his side in pain. You’re both sitting on the van floor, facing each other, still catching your breath. 

You pull the drive out of your pocket and hold it up between you. It’s a little scratched and bloody from your fingers, but still intact. Hunt exhales and lets his shoulder drop. 

Benji’s voice roars from the front. “When I say abort, you abort! That was not the plan!”

“I got the drive,” you snap, voice rising. “And I got Ethan! Is that not enough for you?”

The name hangs in the air. Ethan. And it takes you a second to realize you said it out loud. 

Neither he or Benji comment on it. They both go silent. Hunt meets your eyes, and lingers for a moment. You can’t read his mind, but something in his expression has shifted. 

You glance away, heart still racing, partially from the mission and partially from… something else. 

Outside the window, the city fades behind you as Benji drives through narrow backroads, finally pulling into a quiet hillside neighborhood nestled just outside Marseille. 

Benji parks the van and you all climb out, all exhausted. The sun has already set, but in the dusk light you can see the villa, clearly staged by the IMF. No neighbors, no noise, no risks. Just locked doors and blackout curtains. 

“We should be good here for a little bit. I’ll start scrubbing our digital footprints and check out the drive,” Benji says, taking the lead. He puts his hand out for the drive, and you give it to him, somewhat reluctantly. 

Inside, the villa is sparsely furnished. Plain walls, some tables with equipment, cabinets with supplies and a couch in the main room. You and Hunt walk in together, shoulder to shoulder, somewhat oblivious to the space between you two. 

Benji disappears into another room with the thumb drive, leaving you and Romeo alone. You drop into the couch, rubbing the back of your head where a small bump is starting to form. 

Hunt watches you in the low light of the living room. He folds his arms and circles the room till he’s facing you on the sofa. 

“You disobeyed orders.” He says lowly, towering above you. 

“And I saved your life.” 

He squints his eyes. “You could have died.”

You stand up now, meeting him toe-to-toe. “And? You were about to.”

“I had it under control,” Hunt added, tilting his head. 

There’s silence as you two are staring each other down, barely any space in between. The tension is tight, loaded, dangerous. You’re so close you can feel the heat radiating from him, but his expression stays cold. Guarded. 

He’s waiting for another one of your snarky remarks, a snap back, for you to be the reckless rogue that’s trying to prove something, but you don’t give it to him. 

You hold his gaze for one more beat, then turn to walk away.

His hand catches your wrist before you can get too far.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” he says.

Then softer, almost reluctantly, “Thank you.” 

chapter 5

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

~ % TAGLIST: @sarahskywalker-amidala @mirrorballbb @angstylittleb1tch @allthespecificity

[kfan04]

What do you think is going on with Kaito and Romeo?

I've posted this on Reddit and now I'm posting it here so I more people see it and talk to me!

Particularly I'm interested in why Romeo seems to be so clingy with Kaito. I know that there are already some explanations — Kaito's debt and Kaito's pendant — but don't you think Romeo is putting too much effort into this?

Regarding debt: does Romeo chase around everyone with debt on the regular basis? Also, the academy is clearly full on well-off students, it would make much more sense to concentrate on them. Kaito doesn't have money and he won't somehow get them out of nowhere (Luca is another discussion).

Regarding pendant: have you noticed that Romeo is trying to convince Kaito to give him the pendant, instead of taking it away by force? Throughout the chapters he hasn't really tried to take the pendant away, although I think Romeo's more than capable of it. He is stronger than Kaito and the latter didn't have any protectors before Luca (Tohma and Jin are also not shown to be close enough to Kaito to defend him in the past). Otherwise, there must have been tons of opportunities for Romeo to hurt or kill Kaito and take away the pendant, everyone dies left and right, even when they were on the mission — little accident, minus one ghoul, nobody would've probably suspected anything. Why hasn't Romeo taken the pendant away already?

Who would go that far for the indebted guy? Or even for a pendant? It's more like Romeo's interested in Kaito being constantly around, but also, why?

Regarding Romeo's time and effort: despite being the busy man Romeo claims he is, he still finds time to regularly look around for Kaito, calling his name, and with a gun. He asks MC for Kaito's schedule — twice. He spams Kaito with messages. He locks Kaito in the cage in his private office very few people know about — this is just another level, because why. He also takes Kaito on a mission with him, when being told that was his chance to assemble the best possible team — notably, he goes for Kaito before contacting his actual friends, and also has to threaten Kaito to go with him in first place. On the mission, it's Romeo's decision to split, and both times he takes Kaito with him, also physically dragging him and just casually intimidating him along the way.

Regarding Romeo's attitude: he's the mix of tenderness and frustration when it comes to Kaito. The phrase he use to call him is Doko itta no, dete oide? which translates kinda like "Where have you gone? Come on, come out!" and is often used to talk to animals and kids. He also uses Fuji-kun, emphasising on either Kaito being his kouhai, or being on friendly terms with him. He's very touchy when it comes to Kaito — grabbing his hand, his collar, his ear, shaking his shoulders, clamping a hand over his mouth. It's not necessarily tender, but it seems that Romeo finds it absolutely natural to act towards Kaito in such way. Romeo's also often implying Kaito acts unreasonable towards him when not willing to comply, like when Kaito is hiding or running away from him, or when he doesn't want to go on the mission. One time he says something along the lines "there's more on the map than that, so just shut up and do as I say", implying it's in Kaito's interest to listen to him.

Why does Romeo seem to be convinced that Kaito should be doing as he says without asking questions?

Regarding Kaito's attitude: Kaito isn't shown to be super intimidated by Romeo. Yes, he runs away away from him, and in one voiceline he mentions he started getting chills when someone calls his name because of Romeo — so it's not like Kaito doesn't recognise Romeo as a threat. However, Kaito is constantly talking back and resisting. When talking to Romeo, Kaito openly questions his decisions, mocks him, swears at him, uses omae, simply disagrees and Romeo has to put a lot of effort to actually get Kaito to do something — and half of the time, Kaito doesn't do what is expected of him anyway. He talks to Romeo almost freely, definitely less scared than with Jin or with Tohma, or even with Ren or Jiro. Interestingly, Kaito uses Romeo-san, instead of -senpai, like with Tohma and Jin. Kaito also doesn't seem to have a clue about why Romeo is following him, but he's not interesting in figuring it out either, just "weird guy, ugh how annoying, does he ever stop".

Unlike Romeo who perceives his own actions as natural, justified as "Well I'm just collecting debt", Kaito openly talks about how strange Romeo acts towards him. Locked in the cage, he says "shut up, kidnapping creep" and "do you even realise how unhinged you sound" when Romeo says no one would save him from there... When MC says "he has certainly taken a liking to you", Kaito corrects "liking, more like stalking".

For now, no one except Luca and to some degree MC hasn't commented on Romeo's and Kaito's connection — do they know? Or do they don't care? Or both.

Regarding timeline: Kaito mentions Romeo has been on his tail for half of the year. Before that, he wasn't even in the gambling den. This lines up with the estimated time of the Clash. Does Romeo's interested in Kaito has something to do with the Clash? Did it just happen in the same time? Kaito says he has somehow avoided the Clash — he himself doesn't connect the Clash with Romeo's interest in him. Kaito doesn't seem to connect Romeo's interest with anything, implying it was sudden. It could be that the determining point of the Romeo's interest was the moment Romeo was looking at Kaito from a distance, if Kaito cannot remember any special confrontation. What doesn't line up is the warding card of Romeo standing above Kaito and looking at his pendant — judging by his expression, for the first time. Who wouldn't have remembered this situation? Another thing, Kaito mentions that he hasn't seen Romeo much before, and he wasn't even in the gambling den. So although Romeo justifies his hobby by collecting debt, he possibly wasn't that interested in collecting this debt initially, before that special point six month ago.

Regarding paperwork: Luca repays Kaito's debt in the prologue, another simple solution to Kaito repaying his debt and Romeo not having to go after him ever again. Yet Romeo claims "he still owes rate of interest, so it's not enough to buy his freedom". To which Luca replies "I'd like to see the paperwork then", and Romeo's muttering he "hates men with brain". Other than Kaito commenting on how he didn't know about the rate of interest (which could be written off as ignorance, and not necessarily as Romeo deceiving him), Romeo's comment suggests there might be something unclear with the documentation. Another important paper is the one Romeo threatens to show the MC when telling Kaito to join him on the mission. It is not the debt-related issue — MC already knows about it. It is something that Kaito feels to be embarrassed about, and something that allows Romeo to say "you really think you can say no?". In the prologue, when Romeo demands pendant, Kaito also replies with "this is one thing you will never get from me" — one thing? Does that mean Kaito agrees in some way Romeo can demand anything else? The paper which Romeo threatens to show the MC — which conditions are written there?

Let's assume that Kaito does owe Romeo more than money. What exactly is Romeo gaining in this situation? Why would he need specifically Kaito's compliance in the first place? Why Kaito of all people, of all ghouls. Okay, maybe Romeo thinks it's handy to get a guy who he can threaten to do anything. Why would he put so much energy into keeping Kaito close to him — especially on the occasions that could've used more catered to the situations ghouls, like the mission. Judging by how he addresses Kaito as "plebeian", he doesn't think Kaito's pendant connects him with the powerful family, plus he comments how Kaito doesn't know its true value. So Romeo is not after Kaito's potential prestige.

What is notable, is that Romeo is deliberately keeping Kaito close and monitors his actions.

Romeo's behaviour doesn't make sense. It especially doesn't make sense considering he is acting rationally when it comes to missions, or his income, or dealing with others, which means there is an explanation for how he acts with Kaito — my guess, it directly or indirectly includes money, or another physical value.

What are your thoughts? Have I missed something? I'd die to discuss, really. I see all these signs, but I can't really understand what it means. I know we are quite early in the story, but for the 13 chapters the story has been very consistent with the relationship between Romeo and Kaito, and Kaito's pendant. I'm super interested to know what others think!

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 1

Jaded by her fiancé’s disinterest in her ambitions to become a professional wrestler, Delilah Parrish’s life takes an interesting turn when one of WWE’s top names offers her the support she’s not getting at home.

Pairing: Jey Uso/OC

Warnings: As we go along...

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This was initially a Roman fic but I realized I have too many upcoming stories featuring him, so I switched it up and passed it off to Jey. Hope you enjoy!

---------------

“Come on, Parrish, move your ass! Get on her!”

The damp, unruly strands of baby hair in Delilah Parrish’s eyes temporarily obscured her vision and made it difficult to take on her trainer’s instruction. Brushing them away impatiently, her mind flitted to the next line of offense, but her opponent had tackled her to the canvas before her thoughts could fully register. The hard surface made unfriendly contact with her body, but the rushing adrenaline helped fight off the pain, and she battled with her opponent trying to twist her body into a sleeper hold. Delilah tried to concentrate on countering the hold, but between the hundreds of thoughts scrambling around her head and the yelling coming from outside the regulation wrestling ring, it was a near impossible feat.

“For fuck’s sake, Parrish, what are you doin’?” Pounding his palm hard on the mat, her trainer, Makena 'Tank' Kalua, shouted again. “Quit pullin’ her arm like that! You’re gonna break it!”

The other woman, an older, more experienced student named Janie from England, easily slipped out of the armbar Delilah was attempting on her and sat up, seizing both of Delilah’s legs and twisting them in a figure-four leg lock. Usually it was Delilah’s job to sell this move, try to roll over to ease the pressure, or even grab the bottom rope for relief, just like she’d learned. Instead, she kicked her legs carelessly, grunting as she wildly fought out of the hold.

“What the fuck! Is that what I taught you?” Tank screamed again. Blowing the whistle around his neck, he reached under the bottom rope and grabbed Delilah by her leg, forcibly dragging her out of the ring and setting her on her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Huffing irritably, Delilah yanked her arm away from him and marched away to the other end of the warehouse, ignoring Janie and the other girls that glared wearily after her, wondering what Tank saw in her to begin with. Delilah wondered that herself sometimes.

Ever since she was a little girl growing up in the tiny town of Pensacola, Florida, she dreamed about being in the middle of the fabled squared circle, performing for sellout crowds all over the world, making a name for herself in the notoriously tough wrestling business. And now she was finally getting her chance. In two days’ time, she would be partaking in her very first singles match, lacing up the boots she had worked two extra shifts at the local gym to afford. At last, she was taking that small step towards her dream.

So why did she not feel ready? Why was she doubting herself at the last hour?

One word; Andre.

She was starting to lose count of how many fights they’d gotten into in the six months since she’d embarked on what her fiancé openly thought was her childish desire to become a professional wrestler. Once he realized that it wasn’t just some hobby she would lose interest in after a week, his support began to dwindle more and more as the months went on. There were heated arguments between them on a weekly basis it seemed, mostly on what her ambitions were costing the couple financially. After all, they still had a wedding to plan; their already tight budget was being nibbled at by her exorbitant wrestling class fees. There were bills to pay around the house; she’d already squandered a month’s salary to purchase her wrestling outfit and boots. Yesterday, Delilah had kept quiet, refused to argue, and let Andre vent all he wanted. But this morning, her nerves were starting to kick in over her upcoming match, and when Andre began another tirade as he headed out to work, she not-so-politely shut him down. Tempers were lost and words were exchanged, and both left the house angry. Delilah hadn’t heard from him all day. Secretly, she was glad. She didn’t need his crap today.

Evidently, Tank didn’t need her crap either. The trainer usually gave her some leeway but today he wasn’t having it at all. “Hey, get your ass back here!” His deep, angry voice sounded behind her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Where ya goin’ huh? You wanna run home like a little girl?” he asked her. “Go ahead, go.”

“Just stop, alright?” Delilah snapped, her fists clenched involuntarily as she fought the urge to hit him right in his face. Unfortunately she didn’t stand a chance against him, not when he weighed over a hundred pounds more than she did and was an entire foot taller than her, and certainly not with his over two decades of wrestling experience in comparison to her puny half-year.

Moving closer to her, Tank placed a calloused hand on her shoulder. “What’s goin’ on Dee? You’ve been acting up today.”

Delilah knew she was among the very few trainees Tank afforded the luxury of his concern and sympathy. She liked to think it was because she was one of the teachable ones, easily picking up the wrestling moves like she’d been doing it for years. She was always one of the first to arrive and one of the last to leave, helping set up the ring and take it down after classes. Her attitude was refreshing, and she eventually managed to become something resembling a friend to him.

But there was only so much friendship could do for her current situation. Running a hand through her hair, Delilah tried to figure out where to start answering his question. She was fuckin’ tired, for one. She was wrestling in front of an actual crowd in a mere forty-eight hours. Her fiancé was being an ass. Her pride however, wouldn’t let her say those things out loud. That he considered her to be a friend didn’t mean she had to go crying to him for every problem she had. “It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she murmured, choosing to focus on the Polynesian tribal tattoo spread over his right arm.

Tank rolled his eyes with a huff. “We both know that’s bullshit, but if you say so.” Turning back for the ring, he sighed heavily. “You got sixty seconds to clear your head, then you get your ass back in that ring. We got shit to do so hurry up.” With that, he walked away.

She expected no other response. He never coddled her, not during working hours anyway. She didn’t want him to, either. The last thing she wanted to look was weak in front of fellow trainees; people, as Tank always reminded her, who wanted this career, who wanted this life, more than anything else in the world. And that brought her back to the same question she’d been asking herself for months.

How badly did she want it?

----------------

The next couple of hours seemed to go on forever. Tired, bruised and battered from a long day of training, Delilah hitched her bag over her shoulder and cast a glance at the round black clock on the wall as she walked towards the exit of the warehouse. Andre had sent a text message that filled her with hope of reconciliation after their heated morning. Maybe they could sit down and talk about what had happened, and hopefully work things out like they always did.

“Hey, Parrish, come here a sec,” Tank's voice sounded out of nowhere. “Got someone I want you to meet.”

Sighing heavily, Delilah turned her gaze towards the doorway of the small office where he stood. “Do I have to? I gotta meet up with Dre.”

“He’ll be there when you get home,” he dismissed her excuse. “Come say hi. You won’t regret it, come on.”

With a quiet groan, Delilah shuffled toward the office. “I hope not,” she mumbled, stopping short when her eyes fell upon the hulking, tattooed figure sitting on Tank's desk. Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened, unable to believe what she was seeing. “Oh shit!”

Tank's grin widened as he pushed her further into his office. “Told ya. Delilah, meet Jey Uso. Jey, this is one of my students, Delilah Parrish.”

Standing up from his place on the edge of his friend’s desk, Joshua Fatu extended a hand to the toned beauty standing in front of him. He smiled when she placed her hand in his, noticed how it trembled. “Sup, Delilah, nice to meet you,” he said.

Delilah tried to reply, but her mouth seemed to have forgotten its primary function. She could feel her face burning as she continued to hold his large hand, wanting to let go but somehow unable to. It wasn’t every day she shook hands, or was even within a mile radius of Main Event Jey Uso himself. She’d been a big fan of his ever since his debut with his brother, Jimmy. To see them evolve and grow from a tag team to singles stars was so rewarding. The Bloodline storyline was must-see TV for her, and she had found herself sympathizing with the Right Hand Man over the course of the storyline. She followed him on X and Instagram, and had a couple of his Yeet T-shirts. To be in the presence of a man whom she watched on TV every week, a guy she grew to idolize and respect so much, was beyond mind-blowing.

Before her silence could grow awkward, Delilah removed her hand from his grasp. She’d always hoped that the day she got to meet a WWE Superstar, she’d act much cooler and more composed and not like the average tongue-tied fan. She knew she just failed miserably.

Josh crossed his muscled arms over his chest, his gaze firmly on her face. “So Delilah, Tank tells me you gotta lot of potential, uce. Says you’re very talented,” he said, his deep, gruff voice tinged with curiosity.

“Well, all those bumps he’s taken over the years have finally damaged his brain cells,” she said sarcastically, smiling when she drew a laugh from both men, particularly Jey.

“Nah, I’ve known this fool for damn near twenty years now,” said Josh, jerking his thumb in Tank's direction, “If he say you got talent, then you got talent.” He sat back on the desk and let his eyes admire her, silently wondering just how smoking hot the body hidden underneath the baggy clothes was. “So how long you been training?” he inquired. 

Delilah shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. “I started working out about nine months ago, tryna get in ring shape,” she answered. “But I’ve been training for about six.”

Josh nodded his head. “And your first show’s the day after tomorrow, right?” he queried, keeping his eyes on hers.

“My first match,” she corrected him. “I’ve been to a few shows, done some ring announcing, valeted a couple of times,” she added proudly, as though that would make her look more credible in her idol’s eyes. As she spoke, she stole the chance to look him over. Diamond Cuban links glittered around his neck and both his wrists and gave a shine to his fitted Nike sweatsuit that covered up the tattoos she knew decorated a good portion of his russet skin. He was taller than she expected, and just as ruggedly handsome. And those eyes…a hint of danger lurked behind the jovial, friendly facade, very much giving off bad boy vibes. Against her will, she was intrigued.

Ignoring the eye-fucking session going on in his office, Tank patted Josh’s shoulder. “A’ight y’all, time to get outta here.” He ushered the two of them out of his office and towards the exit of the gym. 

“So…what brings you back to town, Jey?” she asked Josh as they walked side by side behind Tank.

The Samoan smiled at the young woman who hadn’t stopped blushing since they met. “Not much. Just hangin’ out with family and shit,” he replied. “Thought I’d come visit my mans over here, but now I hear there’s a show in town, I may just stick around a while longer.” He paused, noting the way her face paled a little. “You nervous?”

Delilah blew out a breath. “Honestly? I’m terrified.”

Josh shook his head. “Naw, don’t be. Focus on all the positives, how far you’ve come, and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded and bit her lip. That was reassuring, just a little bit. “Thanks,” she said, noting that her trainer’s car was heading their way. Tank always dropped her off at home as he lived not too far off from hers. “Well, I better get going. It was so cool to meet you, Jey,” she added, thinking it better to wave this time rather than shake hands. 

“Same here Delilah. And trust me when I say I’ll be seeing you more often in the future,” Josh replied.

For some reason, it sounded to Delilah like there were a handful of promises in those words, but she waved off the silly notion immediately and opted to leave before she made a fool of herself in front of the Jey Uso. It felt like she was walking on air as she approached Tank's car, still star-struck, still stunned by the last couple of minutes that had just happened.

But then, as she slammed the car door shut, she remembered what was waiting for her at home, and with a tired sigh, she was forced to push the moment away, forced to forget about the intense brown eyes that continued to stare after her even as the car drove away from the warehouse.

--------------------

Thoughts so far?

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

TAGGING: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @mzv11 @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @caramelcleopatraa @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @ajenae @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc

[someone-writing]

Today's menu:⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Chapter V. 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

St. Paul told her that beetles cannot find peace fem!reader x S.R.

Ingredients: Spencer Reid x fem!reader, slow-burn, doomed prodigies, ex- BAU!reader (currently consultant), reader is a bit older than Spencer but not much, genius!reader, past trauma, father figure!David Rossi, okay it slowly crystallised to around season 7 Spencer, timeline… what timeline?, lore is recommended but not requested -> bit sidelined from the original but not much, Rossi is yet again fathering in this one, Reid being a confused man, reader being a profiling menace Warning, may contain: strong language, mention of blood, mention of past trauma in the cornfield, motives of insect and being an insect Underline note for the recipe: I'm not a native speaker, 'pardon my French' and any mistakes, but we're cooking in freestyle here, reader's eye colour is not specified (I'm not counting her as a stable part of the team in that paragraph) Previous meal: 𝜗𝜚 <- chapter IV. // chapter VI. -> 𝜗𝜚

"She froze up."

"Technically, she wasn't even supposed to be there. By the ideal protocol, you were supposed to be the one who would take care of it all, and she would maybe help."

"Yeah, I... I know, but I'm..." He takes in a soft breath and exhales slowly. "Methodically, this was all wrong. She could have gotten hurt. Both her and the victim."

"I do know that too."

"What are we gonna do?" A question that was gravitating around their lives on a daily basis.

"I don't know. Honestly, I do not know. We need her. And that's a fact. You've seen it yourself. If we want to finally get down that pest of an unsub, she... needs to stay."

“But what if she does get hurt? What then?”

Silence falls over the small office room as the two men look at each other. It surprised him that he came first to him and didn't report any of it yet. Not in official ways.

"I already lost her once. You can be damn sure that I won't lose her again. That's the most basic thing I owe her."

A few more beats of silence pass in the quiet office. Clock quietly ticking on the wall and rain drumming against the window. It was still raining, for the third day in a row at that time. Will it ever stop? Or were the grey clouds gonna suffocate the earth like a heavy hand pressing against a screaming mouth?

"What really happened that day?" he asks as he plays with a loose string on his cardigan.

He will need to fix it later so it won't unravel more.

"I-I of course read the reports from the case, but they really didn't say that much—as it is usually typical for cases like those. A-and I read the later investigation files that estimated that she couldn't have stopped it."

Rossi sighs softly.

Damn you, kid. You think that I would be sitting here if I had those answers? I'm asking myself this damn question for over 8 years now, and you expect that I will have an answer?

He was there.

Well, technically... he wasn't, but he found her. He was the first one to whom the tragedy of the day came.

He found both of them. Both of the young souls lying on that cold, wet ground under the heavy night skies. Stars blinking back at them like they were giving their last goodbye.

Just by one look, he knew that the other girl was gone. Too much blood and mess to even bother to reach to check the pulse point.

He knew he wouldn't find any.

So he focused on the second woman choking on her own blood while her face was coated with the blood of the first woman. Her shaky hand trying to get the blood out of her eyes. Just to make it even worse.

He still has that handkerchief he used to wipe her face with that day.

It was his own barrow that held her name on it. Reminder of the things that can happen when pride shines too brightly to see the reality. That hides the shadows that can warn you that you are reaching places too dark to go alone. On your own.

But he wasn't alone when they got her out of the field. At least he didn’t make that mistake.

He and Hotch were the ones who carried her out of that cornfield. Dried, dead plants crunching and ruffling around them with every move. Like they were mockingly whispering to them, "You failed, you failed, you failed."

They shouldn't have... ever sent her alone. Someone should have gone with her. He should have listened to the gut feeling that was telling him that the kidnappings were too smooth for just one unsub. And the look in Jason's eyes told him that he felt the same way.

Sometimes... you can try to read in the darkness, not knowing that the pit has a double bottom you will find only at the moment you fall into it.

And they almost fell several times, as the ground was constantly giving way to small hollows and pits that made them wobble on their feet like they were the girl now shaking in their arms. The only way they could make the walk was when the flashlights shone with the red-blue light that gave them at least a small idea of which hellhole they were gonna fall into this time.

The same flashing lights of the ambulance were glistening on the layers of blood still on her face, making her glow with... almost twisted eternal light.

"You are okay. Everything is okay now." He doesn't even know who said that awful thing. Because they all knew that it was a lie that shone in the darkness around them like a lighthouse.

The look in her eyes and the way her hand was gripping his when the ambulance started to shake its way through the darkness between the dust paths and cornfields were telling him that she died in that field.

That he doomed the soul of the young girl who was too bright for her own good. If the world was fair, she would have been the perfect profiler.

Now they all will need to wait and hope that she won’t become the perfect killer.

They will need to hope that the path that happened for her won’t lead her to the ways of rot and decay.

They will need to hope that she will only start to run. And that she will keep on running from everyone and everything. That she won’t stop in one place for too long—to not succumb to the allure of taking the easiest path.

Hoping that she won’t ever come back.

"We underestimated the unsub. The profile itself was correct. But we never counted on the possibility that he had an accomplice."

Spencer sighs softly over those words. He wants new information.

"I do know that. Again, I read the file. I mean... you know... what really happened that day?"

"I don't know. She never spoke about it. 

Not fully. Neither me, Gideon, nor Hotch ever managed to get out of her even a single thing beyond what you can find in the files." Rossi knew that for the young profiler it wouldn't be enough.

That if it were possible, he would dig a whole mine to get to the answers he wants to know so much.

"Then how are we supposed to know what her triggers are? What situations can make her spiral or shut down?" he argues back, while his fingers drum against his thighs with unset energy. His fingers need physical contact when his mind is trying to grab a lifeline from thin air.

What am I supposed to do if it happens again? I can't leave her in it. She can become a liability and endanger the rest of the team. But also, something can happen to her... this is not acceptable. From both moral and practical standpoint.

He knows that crawling feeling. All too well.

"You’re starting to care for her."

He bristles a bit over those words. "I care for her about as much as I care about all the members of this team," he snaps back almost immediately. "But to stop you assuming anything—yes, I do find her interesting. Happy?"

It was always fascinating how quickly the logical man reaches for snappy defense.

"I will look into it. I promise. No one wants to let her get hurt, you can trust me on this, kid. And I will speak with Hotch." Rossi nods his head after a moment. He can already read him. He knows that the genius's logical shield is under observation—he’s trying to find a way to repair it and fix his defence against the newcomer woman.

A nod. Soft whine of the light metal against the hard floor as he pushes the chair back from the desk. Sneakers silently tapping against the same floor of the small office.

"And kid?" That makes him turn to look back at the older profiler.

"Thanks for coming to me about this first."

One more nod. But it’s less about agreement now, and more about understanding.

The door closed with a soft click.

He still has cards he needs to count today.

The walls bounced back sound similar to... a cavalry. 

Cavalry of tiny, little legs scratching the hard, cold concrete floor as they were pushing the body ahead. 

Body that was too big and yet too small for... everything. Created from hard shell and yet so squishy and squeezable insides.

So easy to destroy. 

The cavalry of legs was making its way through the vast hallways that were endless and finite at the same time, walls reaching for the heights where they were kissing the dark skies that were full of buzzing lights. Maybe they were transmitting messages she couldn't understand yet. 

Or... ones she won’t ever understand. 

Those little legs were moving hastily, and yet she felt like she was staying in place. Like she was running in place and the doors of the room she wanted to get into were mocking her like an ancient sentinel in the distance. 

It was a wild dash and calm walk at the same time, and she finally arrived at the door. The deformed beetle leg clumsily fighting with door handles that were made out of lead and arsenic. Leaving behind soft kisses of death that were cutting the string of her life shorter and shorter every day. 

The door slowly opened and the beetle crawled in. 

"Oh, hey... I-I was looking at the new evidence that Garcia sent us. But don't worry, I tried to not mess with anything... that—that much." 

She was her own Gregor Samsa. But she hadn’t woken up — she’d walked herself into the transformation, step by step. She just couldn't influence the last push. 

But he... saw the woman. 

Not the beetle that she was...

Or he at least knew how to pretend not to see the beetle for now.

Hard to say how long it will take before he throws that apple at her. Will he mean it? Or will it just happen, as it all happened in the past? 

She nods her head silently and drops her bag on one of the chairs in the office rooms. She moves to open the blinds at the window to let in at least a bit of natural greyish light so she doesn't feel like she is planning to play a game of blackjack at the Devil's casino. 

The Devil wasn't real, but the man in front of her was as present as one would be. And the casino was the bureau room wrapped in report papers and redlines. And she needed to handle her cards correctly; otherwise, she will lose. 

And she is not sure if there is much more she can bet on and not regret losing it later. 

"Plus Garcia left you some... sticky note on one of the case files. I—I promise that I didn't read it... well, I—I didn’t read it intentionally," he adds gingerly as he pushes the manila folder towards her with the powder-pink paper on it. She nodded her head softly, a signal that she is not gonna make a deal out of it.

"It was on the outside of the desk. It wasn’t a state secret, so don’t worry about it." 

He let out a soft breath and nodded back. 

He still wasn’t sure how to even call her at this point. She was a myth, and the name she held felt like something forbidden to say aloud. Calling her just Doctor felt too impersonal as they worked too closely with each other. Doctor Y/N wasn’t that bad, but he wasn’t sure if she even wanted to be called by that title. Some people hated that. 

And there was that stupid nickname Morgan found for her. Taciturn. Short version... Tac. 

He noticed that Garcia used that short version on that sticky note too. It was slowly starting to stick around. 

"How... how do you feel about that nickname that Morgan gave you...? I—I, I don't want to pry, of course... I just wanted to ask because Garcia used it on the sticky note, and I don't want to use it in case it makes you uncomfortable or you don't like it. 

It’s your own personal decision, of course, and we are working with each other only for a short time and I'm not sure if I should call you Doctor Y/N or n-not, because statistically a big number of PhD holders don’t like to..." He was over-explaining himself again. His own mind and tongue were sticking their feet out to make him trip and crumble as usual. 

He wasn’t even sure if he was trying to make her more comfortable — or if he was just trying to stop being so terrified of her silence. 

She sighs softly again, but there is a softness in her face. She is trying to at least push in the microexpressions that she won’t rip his head off. “Tac... is okay.” 

If it helps you to have at least the fake feeling that you don't expect me to snap and crumble like the Babylon tower in front of you... I can survive it. 

His mouth moves a few times before it shuts closed, and he nods softly. Okay, he can work with that.

And it means that he doesn’t need to use her name. 

Which is a win. 

Because he feels like he is not... worth it? No, maybe it’s more about the fact that he still doesn’t understand who is even supposed to be the woman that holds that name?

That the name itself is just a mush of sounds that leave his vocal cords, slide across his tongue, brush against his teeth, and kiss his lips — but he doesn’t know the real meaning behind that word that is born into the world every time he says it aloud.

That name was still lost in translation. She was... lost in translation for him. 

“Okay... okay.” He mumbles to himself more than giving her a real answer to her reaction.

Wheels up in fifteen.

They all were waiting for the next murder at this point.

Because the unsub had been radio silent for almost 3 weeks and 6 days, which was atypical. When considering the current body count of 26 — it was a change in the timeline. 

Around 3 bodies per month through the 7 months since they started to work on the case, but now... he was 2 bodies behind. It almost felt like he was regrouping. Maybe planning something...

But definitely not reconsidering his life decisions and putting their career on a peg out of the ‘goodness’ of his soul.

And with her on board — both literally and figuratively — their current situation felt more... crowded. 

Her eyes were skimming over the current case file while she was listening to the things that were happening around the jet.

Hotch and Emily bouncing around theories about why the unsub took so long this time, Rossi grumbling something about a possible ego jerk, and Reid chiming in about the statistical chance of the unsub being a narcissist based on the power play that was shown by this.

They were waiting for the unsub's next move, sadly waiting for the next victim as the case went cold not so long after the body was found.

It was a blind chase where they were hoping for bread crumbs. 

And Morgan had cracked another joke at Reid’s expense over the fact that the man remembers the exact number of diners around the Cincinnati outskirts and yet had never considered using that knowledge for something social and not just case-related.

She watched how Spencer tried to hide his frown behind his hand.

Grumbling something about running into a serial killer as a possible date being higher than he thinks and that he is not gonna risk that.

There was something comforting about the rhythm of it.

Like they were characters in a play she’d seen a dozen times but never acted in. She turned back to her folder, not ready to step on stage just yet.

"Uh, hey... can I ask a quick question about something?" She looked up and met with the only bright eyes of the whole unit. 

It was fascinating that all the other team members were sitting somewhere around the deep brown to hazel brown eye spectrum.

Jennifer Jareau was the only one with eyes beyond hazel.

"Sure." A few beats of silence—chat between the rest of the team filling it for them—as she tucks the case file closer to her so the other woman can take her seat opposite her. "How... can I help?"

The words felt strange—old and heavy, like something sealed away for years and now uncorked again. They weren't rotten but... different. Heavy, and yet they hadn't lost the taste they used to have in the far past when they were bottled for the last time. 

And she was now opening them again. 

"I just wanted to ask about the card symbolism because the press is constantly after us because of it. I tried to ask Spencer but he..."

"Lost you after about 2 minutes?" she finished for her.

There was shock, schooled to surprise, on the other woman's face.

But not the negative type. Or at least she hoped so...

"Yeah... yeah," JJ nodded, a small smile flickering onto her face. "I see that you noticed that. Spence doesn't usually mean it but he has a tendency to lose us on the way. I think I got the basics but... just to be sure."

She nodded softly back and reached into her bag—dug through it for a short moment before she found the card box. The known cards were kept on the top of the deck with names of the victims written on top of them.

"Okay..." she mumbled as she put the most important cards in front of the woman. "It's important to understand that all the symbols hold their own role. Not just the face cards. All of them matter."

Her fingers take the Queen of Diamonds. "Michelle Scott was given the Queen of Diamonds because of her social status — symbolised by diamonds. She was a businesswoman, big fish but not dirty job, had her own support fund for kids and students from lower-income families who were into science research. That's our interpretation of why she was given the Queen. Ruler of the 'kingdom'." She hands the card to the woman so she can study it for a moment. 

"Next one, King of Hearts. Mr. Boose was an urgent care doctor — symbolised by hearts." A new card appeared on the desk.

The beetle wanted to reach for its antennas but... the human hand moved the loose hair from her eyes. 

That tiny leg, for once, took the shape of a hand.

She closed the door behind her as she moved silently through the old diner. It was only about a 10-minute walk from the crime scene, for once the location being convenient.

She needed a caffeine fix as it was almost 10 p.m., and the night would be long, as they all knew that the unsub was around the city only for a few hours. It was a chase before the new card would be dropped — signalling that the unsub was yet again... gone.

The floor was covered by faded hardwood, the glass was milky with age, the plaster was peeling, and the wallpaper was faded. An old Christmas wreath hung at the door to the kitchen and Christmas lights around the windows, as the staff didn't have enough money, nor motivation, to bother to take them off for several years now — based on the layers of dust and cobwebs.

She dismissed the first two tables because the top coat was melted by age, and she didn’t want to even touch the surface voluntarily. The other table was still being cleaned, and the rest of them were at the window.

She didn’t want to be perched at it like she would be in case of a cinematic shot that would belong to an amateur version of Fargo.

Gloomy traumatised ex-FBI profiler, working on a string of murders happening across the north part of the United States with a mysterious killer that has a thing for game cards...

Hell, they were even a state away from Minnesota.

She chuckled sourly to herself and sat behind the only table that wasn't offending her for any peculiar or particular reason with its position. Right next to the counter.

The only thing she would complain about was the awful smell of coffee.

She rubbed her face in disgust right after she nodded to the waitress a soft thank you when she brought the small pot to her. The mug was white and cheaply looking, the pot looked like it had definitely seen better days.

And she definitely should have expected that the plastic top of it may fall off, and the dark liquid would spill over the table before she got the pot back to an upright position.

She cursed underneath her breath, and her hand reached for that packed-up mountain of white paper wipes—here goes being more sustainable and 'saving the planet'. She took a handful and threw it haphazardly at the spill with a sigh, her eye watching the coffee... not soaking into the material the way she expected?

There was a difference in material porosity... her fingers dug themselves into the layers, and they wrapped around something paper... but not thin.

Her breath stops for a moment, and the noises of the half-empty diner step into the background. There is no longer the buzzing of the lights above her head, the hissing of grease from the kitchen, or the draggy voice of the waitress behind the counter as she is complaining about someone called Jerry to her... most likely sister.

She shoots out from the table she was sitting at, and her fingers shakily rip apart the soggy envelope. She shakes it to get out the thing she is dreading to see...

Ace.

She doesn’t really even have time to think about the whole thing before someone bumps into her and pushes her against the table. She must have completely zoned out...

She caught a whiff of something — disinfection? Cologne? Smoke?

She wants to turn and say sorry — but by the time she turns, the bell above the door is the only thing still moving. A small sigh almost escapes her lips before she chokes on it at the last moment when she notices the thing on the ground.

Crispy white, mockingly visible on the wooden floor.

She leans down for it, and only moments later shoots up from the table haphazardly. The Ace crumpled in her hand.

The bell on the door was still swaying when she turned — spun, really — trying to follow a ghost she hadn’t even seen.

She is turning around her own axis. Trying to see if she can catch that... man somewhere around, she is already up to start to run somewhere. Anywhere in the blinding illusion that she may catch that ghost, but a hand on her shoulder stops her.

"Hey, missy. I don't know who raised ya, but in this diner we pay for our coffee." That draggy voice gets a squeaky edge, and she turns to the other woman.

She should definitely leave that man. Bite down harder to keep the smoking at bay, and she should also try to tone down the blue eyeshadow — she won't feel younger that way anyway.

"That man who just left. Where was he sitting? What was he wearing? How did he look like?" She starts to shoot the questions immediately, and she can see the other woman getting almost startled over that line of questions.

She automatically reaches for her coat to... right, she doesn't have an official badge. Great.

"I'm with the FBI. And you think that I'm currently lying to you. But trust me, why would I need to lie to a woman with a mediocre job, a shitty partner, and a feeling that she is still not that old — even though she just came from the second funeral of her high school classmate in the past 3 years."

The waitress only blinks in shock and silently points at one of the tables. The one which... was getting cleaned when she came in.

"Where is the mug? Silverware?"

"Already in the kitchen. Dishwasher."

Fuck.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." She seethes through her teeth and blindly reaches into her other pocket to pull out a mushed 5-dollar bill. "Keep the rest."

The other woman just nods yet again in shock, takes the bill, and shakily — almost mechanically — marches back to the diner.

She runs her hand through her hair roughly and looks at the envelope in her hand. Her left hand is shaking, her right hand moves from her hair to rub her forehead for a moment in methodical, almost meditative, gestures. Then it slides to her mouth and chin for a moment.

She blinks hard once. And then quickly once, and twice.

Restart.

She rips the envelope open.

Tiny beetle leg holding the card.

Joker.

She stared.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Long enough for the card to mean something more than ink.

Long enough to feel like a target.

Her hand reached to her pocket to pull out her phone. Fingers were shaking as she was scrolling to ‘Rossi – Do not pick up.’

"We really should not send you alone." Rossi sighed softly when the cavalry arrived.

They were ready to sweep the place from floor to ceiling if it would help. And they were ready to confiscate the whole kitchen if it would be needed. Because they needed... something.

Anything.

"Ace..." Hotch mused aloud as he looked at the card that was passed around the group like a hot potato. "Reid...?"

"We spoke about it with..." Eyes land for a moment on her. "Tac. And we are trying to establish the take the unsub would give to this specific card because if we estimate the value of the card, it has double meaning. In case of Blackjack, to be more specific, it can be both the lowest and highest card of the game..."

She knew that he was speaking, but she felt like someone stuffed cotton in her ears. Like her head was held forcefully underwater. But by whom?

"Let's hope that if there will be a next card... we will get a manual to it." Morgan adds with a sigh as he watches the local police department take from the kitchen a box full of silverware and a few cups.

She felt how the card was slowly burning its way from the inside pocket of her coat.

In a similar way how the plesiosaur burned when she met with Penelope. But this burning was more... painful. Sinister.

Because this one was right above her heart.

She opens her mouth... "Yeah, this one will most likely need it." She mumbles sourly, biting down the rest.

The beetle inside her shrank smaller. Waiting for the final blow.

But no one was swinging yet.

Except—

Reid turned slightly, gaze ticking over her like he was picking up on something misaligned. Like a rhythm out of sync.

He didn’t say anything. His eyes landing on the woman with beetle features for the last time.

He didn’t see the woman as previously. He saw the hints of the beetle for the first time.

He frowned — a subtle crease forming between his brows — before turning his attention back to the card in Hotch’s hand.

As if nothing was wrong.

As if she hadn’t just cracked at the edges.

I do not know what I'm doing. I'm suffering... but I'm also enjoying this? Can I ask you all something? Are you capable to read the reader as you? I'm aware that I'm dragging you all through many things but I'm really hoping that you can jump in and at least enjoy the ride for a bit as the viewers of this storm... Anyways, that would be all for today, we are finally kicking this thing off! (After six chapters... great) Word count: 4,6k In case I don't see ya, good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!

[sillysybilsden]

To Janus. To Jupiter. To the Roman gods.

🪔

𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

I. Introduction

II. Gods

III. Mythology

IV. Calendar

V. Ritual

VI. Epilogue

VII. Resources

🪔

𝐈. 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Hey there everyone! This is Sybil (fka Clever Crow). As a Roman polytheist, “Roman polytheism is just a carbon-copy of Greek polytheism” is something I hear on a weekly basis. Whether on YouTube, TikTok, Pinterest or, heck, even academic resources, there seems to be a widespread belief that these two religions are identical. Today, I want to focus on this piece of misinformation and try to debunk it by using historical evidence and examples.

Just a small disclaimer: I will be discussing this topic from a hard polytheistic and revivalist point of view. Soft polytheism is absolutely valid, but in this case it might not be of use when highlighting differences between gods.

Also, I want to thank the following people: Cristina, Mystix, @spiritual-entries and @camssecretcave . They made sure that all information provided here is factual and reliable, and I will be forever grateful to them for their help.

🪔

𝐈𝐈. 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬

“Are the Greek and Roman pantheons one and the same?” This is the first question we will attempt at answering within this chapter. To do so, we must introduce a very important concept in Roman religion: interpretatio romana. Before that, though, let me provide you with some historical context.

Ever since the founding of Rome in 753 BCE, Romans were exposed to influences from other Italic peoples: Sabines, Etruscans, Volsci and so on. Because of that, we can indeed say that there has never been a 100% “native” Roman religion.

We can nonetheless differentiate two “phases” of Roman polytheism: pre-hellenisation polytheism and post-hellenisation polytheism (“hellenisation” being the process that merged Greek and Roman cultures and religions during the 1st century BCE and the 1st century CE). For simplicity’s sake, in this post we are going to compare the pre-hellenisation version of Roman religion and Hellenism.

Back to interpretatio: what is it? To put it simply, it is the comparison of two different pantheons (which is used to find matches between the gods). It was used so that, when describing other populations’ religions, one could just name a more familiar, local deity instead of fully describing a foreign one (which, obviously, would take much more time). Just imagine being a Roman historian and having to discuss Greek religion: instead of saying “Ares is a god of war, battle and courage”, you could just say “Ares is like our Mars”.

Does that mean that these gods were seen as identical? Absolutely not! Actually, this shows us that Roman gods were a thing long before Greek gods started being adopted in the pantheon (which is the reason why a god like Janus does not have a Greek counterpart).

Sticking with the same example we have used before, we can say that Mars was already Mars before he was equated to Ares. And, because of that, at a closer look, the two are extremely different: while Ares is blood-driven, Mars shows a much calmer nature; contrarily to Ares, Mars has some pretty important ties to royalty (his son being Romulus-Quirinus) and agriculture; while Ares has a relationship with Aphrodite, Mars is married to Nerio; and so on. It is only after hellenisation that these two (as well as all of the other gods) started merging into one single Greco-Roman figure.

As I said before, though, this does not mean that Rome was against syncretism. Quite the contrary, actually: whenever Romans ran into a deity who could be of use to them and did not have a counterpart in their pantheon, they would consider adopting them. This is the reason why Apollo was worshiped by both societies (Romans adopted him in 431 BCE in order to fight a pestilence; his Greek nature never went unacknowledged: for him, ritus graecus was performed).

Fun fact: interpretatio was not only directed to Greece. Roman priests tried to include the prophet Jesus Christ into the Roman pantheon. He was described to them as “a god of love”, so they used interpretatio to connect him to Venus.

🪔

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐌𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

As I said before, during hellenisation Greek and Roman gods started merging. As a consequence, so did their mythologies…

Actually, no, scratch that: except for a few exceptions, Roman gods did not have a mythology to begin with. Mythology that is Roman in origin revolves around men, not deities (and that is the reason why it is also referred to as “mythic history”, as the protagonists are pseudo-historical figures). Myths in Ancient Rome were used as exempla, examples to teach teens and men how they should behave in a virtuous way.

For example, one of the most famous figures from Roman mythology is Lucius Junius Brutus, the founder of the Republic: he was intelligent (he tricked the cruel king Lucius Tarquinius Superbus into sparing his life), loyal (he never deserted the Romans) and strong-willed (he took the matters into his own hands and kicked out of Rome the cruel king), and every Roman had to aspire to be like him.

In Greece, on the other hand, myths had the task of explaining why something happens. Why do we have a colder season and a warmer one? That is because Persephone comes back from and goes to the Underworld. How do we know how to use fire? Prometheus gave it to men. How did the hyacinth, the flower, get its name? It comes from Apollo’s lover Hyacinth. On top of that, Greek mythology revolves a lot more around deities than the Roman one (which is the reason why there is a pretty intricate divine family tree in Hellenism).

With this in mind, we can say that, with hellenisation, the Roman gods received myths and genealogies (as well as iconographies, in some cases) of their own for the first time ever. However, these myths and these genealogies were not altered to better fit the deity.

This is the reason why Nerio, Mars’ original wife, was forgotten in favor of Venus (Aphrodite’s Roman counterpart). This is why Saturn, an extremely benevolent agricultural deity, started being depicted as a cruel entity devouring his children (yes: I am looking at you, Goya). And this is also why Minerva, who used to have nothing to do with Medusa, started to be seen as she-who-cursed-Medusa (now I am looking at you, Ovid).

🪔

𝐈𝐕. 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫

Calendars were of extreme importance in polytheistic societies. After all, they were deeply intertwined with their religious mentality… which is the reason why we are briefly going to discuss this matter in this blog.

When it comes to Ancient Greece, the calendar we have the most evidence on is the Athenian one (which, because of this, has become the most widely used in modern Hellenic polytheistic communities). It is lunisolar (keep this in mind!). When it comes to Ancient Rome, on the other hand, we have quite some evidence on three different calendars that modern Roman polytheists can choose from: a lunar one, a lunisolar one and a solar one (the latter happens to be the calendar still in use today).

One similarity that needs to be addressed is the one between Noumenia and Kalends (both being a celebration of the first day of the month). In the Roman version, however, we would also have to add Nones and Ides as recurring monthly festivities.

Another similarity that many seem to highlight is the one between Kronia and Saturnalia, two festivities where abundance is celebrated (as well as, respectively, Kronos and Saturn, who later merged) and the Golden Age is remembered. However! Kronia is celebrated during the Summer, roughly during the Summer solstice; Saturnalia is celebrated during Wintertime, roughly during the Winter solstice. It might not seem like a big difference at first, but it is if we consider this: during Kronia, the harvest is celebrated while it is happening, while the mature crops are being collected; during Saturnalia, the harvest that has already happened during the past Summer is celebrated, as well as the one that is to come.

Last but not least, let us highlight a Roman-only peculiarity. Back in Ancient Roman times, every day had a “quality": they could either be faustus or nefastus (as well as a lot more nuances which we will not be taking into account here). They were of great importance on a religious level, as nefastus days could bring bad luck to a practitioner if they were to take big decisions. Something similar also happened with dies religiosi, during which it was forbidden to go to work (or do anything that was not a life-or-death matter).

🪔

𝐕. 𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥

Now that we have discussed the more “theological” matters, such as the nature of the gods, myths and festivities, we can briefly talk about the more practical side of things.

Let us start with an all-time favorite: veiling. Nowadays, a lot of pagans (no matter their path or their gender) veil for a variety of reasons: protection, modesty or devotion. And that is, no doubt, valid. Historically speaking, though, things kind of different. While both in Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome veils were used by women in order to express their modesty, in Italy they were also mandatory whenever performing rituals (for women and men alike).

Another big difference resides in the views of these two societies over divination. When we think of “divination” and “Ancient Greece”, one of the first things that comes to our minds is probably the Oracle of Delphi (and rightly so!). This figure was said to be able to channel the messages of the gods, and they did so by going into a trance-like state.

In Rome, this practice was seen as unreliable (even though, surprisingly, there are a couple of instances where Romans have asked the Oracle for guidance), as the only reliable forms of divination were those that could be performed when completely conscious (augury, haruspicy, etc). Dreams, too, were seen as an untrustworthy form of communication by Romans.

🪔

𝐕𝐈. 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

There is something we still need to address: if these two cultures, societies, religions were so different, why do so many people believe otherwise?

Well, the answer can be found in 19th century’s anthropological and religious studies. Back then, scholars used to be very fond of the comparative approach (which is a “strategy where characteristics or parts are compared across different research situations to identify differences or similarities”, according to www.sciencedirect.com) and the Indo-European theory.

Too focused on stressing the similarities between Greeks and Romans, intellectuals “forgot” to highlight the differences. Even though nowadays, academically, these hypotheses have been marked as outdated, they are still ever-so widespread.

I hope that this blog will contribute to debunking this piece of misinformation. And I hope that I managed to introduce you, reader, to Roman polytheism… Not just a carbon-copy of Hellenism!

Sybil

🪔

𝐕𝐈𝐈. 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬

The majority of my knowledge on Greek religion comes from “Archeologia greca” by Enzo Lippolis and Giorgio Rocco and theoi.com, as well as some high school classes dedicated to Hellenic mythology.

The following resources talk specifically about this post's subject:

Roman vs. Greek religion (YouTube)

Greek mythology: A second masterpost (Tumblr)

You can check out my full list of resources on Roman polytheism here.

🪔 Check out this post on Amino as well! 🪔

[uh-mozzaza]

Kagurabachi powerscaling talk for once (trying to ignore that today's chapter made me sad )

I find it interesting how both Tobimune and (so far) Kumeyuri do not seem to have offensive related powers. What Samura can do:

Teletransportation

Tracking/Observation

Healing

And what we've seen so far for the wielder of Kumeyuri: hallucination and telekinesis (of "objects"), plus a third power that we don't know yet.

Compared to Enten and Kuregumo, which feature some more standard Slash Attack! Lighting Attack!, the first two swords were made either for people who play support/utility, or for someone who is already a skilled swordsman who does not need "extra" offensive abilities.

It makes sense for Enten to be "basic" both as a story tool and as part of the narrative: the shonen protagonist should have a simple but flexible power set of attack-defense-extra bullshit, so that it can work with every new arc. But I think the main sword having these specific features could have an explanation inside the story. The next part is me speculating about Rokuhira's intentions.

Knowing what we know of Kunishige, he made Enten FOR Chihiro. He would want Chihiro to have a tool to protect himself and what he cares for, without the need to devote his life to training for war (look how that turned out...)

Having a sword that does the cutting (Kuro) and blocking (Aka) for you, means that the user isn't meant to wield it for the rest of their life, to train extensively just to be able to use it. We don't know exactly why Kunishige decided to build it after the war had ended (to destroy the other swords? to prepare for a new conflict? for funsies?) but it isn't the weapon of a soldier by profession. It is a sword meant to eventually be put down.

Meanwhile what we know of Uruha and Samura is that they were swordsmen by trade, their job was being really good (at killing) with a sword and they had specialized in the Iai purity style, which would have already put them above the masses. My prediction is that Kumeyuri's third power is also not gonna be an attack. So no extra powerful attacks for them, they have to use their trained skills + strategy in battle. (This is also my mild defense of Hiruhiko :( who is doing his best in a very short time with no training wheels on)

We don't know much about the other two alive wielders besides them being highly trained, but if I'm right then their powers should not be focused on offense either. It would also allow for more storytelling creativity. (No comment on the Shinuchi cause that is another beast).

Bringing me to my third point, Kuregumo

Who was the original wielder? We don't know much beside their name and their death by the Hishaku. Misaka died around the same time as Kunishige. What's interesting is that their sword shares a lot similarities with Enten. It has a weather filter plastered on, but with the same basis of attack (lighting), defense (ice), and utility (water). Which makes me wonder if the user, like Chihiro, wasn't someone trained to fight, who up until that point had not considered joining in a war and thus needed an extra hand when using the sword. What would push them there? Why would Kunishige pick someone who wasn't an expert master? This is why I think in the future we might see more of Misaka in a flashback, given the potential parallels with Chihiro

[stxrlostseung]

falling, fallen · kim seungmin 🪼

falling, fallen : chapter one 📎

academic rivals to lovers (seungmin x fem!reader)

word count: 1.3k

warning(s) : mild swearing, slow burn (?)

← prologue ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ chapter 2 →

🪼 a.n: please read the prologue (linked above) if you haven't already !! tysm · · · · · i'm planning to try and post a new chapter every weekend, please look forward to it !! enjoy this one for now 💭

the chatter of students filled the lecture hall.

the dark blue cushioned seats in the curved rows bent into a semicircle around a small stage filled as the minutes ticked, nearing 9 o'clock. it signified the first class in the spring semester for students enrolled in the humanities major at seoul university.

you were one of these students.

a laptop and many papers were laid in front of you on the light wooden table that extended in your long row of seats, nearing the middle of the hall. every now and then you raised your wrist to check the small watch there, watching the small arm rotate around the round object, nearing the start of the lecture with every swift tick.

the chatter throughout the large hall suddenly grew louder as several loud voices joined in. the door swung open and a group of guys’ laughter filled the hall, echoing in the big room. the majority of people who were quietly waiting for the lecture to start looked back towards the door of the lecture hall with an annoyed glance, unhappy that peace and quiet was even further from being achieved. 

you glanced back, annoyed as well, but you added an eye roll and a small scoff when you realized who was responsible for contributing to the noise. 

a group of guys, well known to everyone not only in the humanities major, but throughout the entire campus. though you knew who they were and hated them for all the trouble they caused, there was one person in that group you hated in particular, more than the others.

seungmin.

———————

"you dumbass." "you idiot." "how about you take your brain and shove it up your butt?" "which part of it?" "oh, just shut up, you're so annoying." these conversations and nicknames had been spoken on a (nearly) daily basis, from you to seungmin and from seungmin to you. back and forth. 

you both had known each other since high school, both top students competing against each other to get better marks, to get into better universities than each other. you often strived to overdo each other when it came to almost anything related to grades. 

this was also what landed you two in the roles of academic rivals automatically.

he was the person who was utterly annoying, while you were the person he annoyed regularly. you were supposed to hate him, and you did. 

when you graduated from high school, you’d hoped to escape from him, to get into a different university and part ways with the annoying guy who nagged at you 24/7, played pranks on you, and called you names whenever you saw each other. every time this happened you would just scoff and roll your eyes then walk away, too tired to play along to his childish games. you applied to every good university you could find, hoping the one that offered the highest scholarship would not be the one seungmin went to as well.

in other words, good riddance.

at the end of the june before you were supposed to start school, seoul university accepted your application. with a half-paid scholarship. 

which was the best you could have hoped for, considering that seoul university was one of the best in the country.

you practically screamed of happiness when you opened your laptop that day to find that email there, sitting in your inbox.

you were cheerful for a whole week after you accepted the university’s invitation—

until another series of events started.

how unlucky could you get? “hey idiot, you’re going to seoul university too?”

your wishing had not worked. that extremely annoying voice broke your false hope once again.

seungmin.

you were going to die.

———————

the group of boys continued down the aisle in the lecture hall, ignorant to all the glances everyone was giving them. you turned back and scowled at your laptop, crossing your arms over your chest. 

you had hated seungmin for his antics and teasing since high school, and you weren’t going stop now, in your second year of university. you were immune to his charms, unlike the majority of girls, who would probably swoon for any guy who was tall, good-looking and played any sport. 

suddenly the hall went quiet and you straightened up as our professor came onto the stage, arranging papers on the podium and adjusting the microphone attached to it. she looked around the hall, spotting the seven guys who were in the middle of an aisle and still had not sat down. she scowled and narrowed her eyes at them.

“boys in the back, find a seat in 10 seconds or it’s out of the hall for you,” professor cho said in an authoritative tone through the microphone.

at this, the guys froze and started fumbling to find seats. you almost burst out laughing at their actions.

“for heaven’s sake, boys, there is a perfectly empty row of seats right behind you,” the professor deadpanned, not even hiding her impatience at this point.

this time, you were the one who froze at your professor’s words. that was your row. the row you were sitting in. you quietly cursed under your breath. what a great way to start off the spring semester.

you cringed internally as the guys shifted their gaze towards you. you could practically feel the amount of smugness radiating off all of them as you heard shuffling next to you and then quiet bickering.

as the professor promptly started the lecture, you stole a glance at the seven guys just two seats away, still messing around with each other. you wondered how seungmin could keep up with his grades all the while being so carefree.

frowning, you grabbed your pen, starting to take notes and concentrating on the speaking professor.

two and a half hours passed like ten minutes, in the blink of an eye.

“students, i’m going to assign a project that will revolve around all of you for the entire spring semester,” the professor announced near the end of the lecture, in a better mood since the start.

“you will be partnered with another person, two people per group,” all the students’ immediate whispers began.

professor cho proceeded to explain the project.

“this project is a very important one that will cost you a big portion of your grade, so this is not to be messed around with,” she continued, ignoring everyone’s groans around the lecture hall about stress due to schoolwork.

“i trust you will all choose your partners wisely, thank you,” with that, the collective sound of chairs being pushed back started as the professor disappeared off the stage.

sighing, you stuffed your things back into your bag. if there was one thing you hated in school, it was partnered projects and assignments. wanting to be alone and avoiding social contact sure wasn’t as easy in school.

you stood up and heaved your bag onto your shoulder, heading towards the end of the row to get out of the hall until someone stopped you.

if you said you were straight-up unlucky, you certainly would not be lying. experiencing an unfortunate series of events at the most unexpected times was probably a gift or something from above. or below, whatever.

“hey, idiot,” it was seungmin.

of course he had to come to you with his extremely annoying presence at this very inconvenient time. you should have figured, knowing your luck when you were around him.

you looked up, sighing. he was standing directly in the middle of the aisle, both hands gripping the tables on either side of him, blocking your path.

“what do you want?” you asked impatiently, in a rush to get to your next destination.

seungmin leaned onto one of the tables and smirked.

a smirk that could probably make many girls on campus, excluding you, as you might add, faint to the ground on the spot.

you had started to try and get past the annoying blonde when he suddenly spoke.

“do the project with me.”

taglist OPEN !! please request in comments if you want to be added 🤍

[exo-raskreia]

hi my dear, i have to say i love your blog and how you get over those pitiful ichihime statements

i want to know how will you explain or if you have another post that explains... how time doesn't interfere between ichigo and rukia

bc i always see how ichihime fans say how fucked up their ship is just bc of their age. i mean, we understand that time goes different between both worlds, but it's like they just refuse to understand it

also how it is not so much about age but connection, understanding and equal interests, they also seem to forget isshin and masaki

i'd be glad if you can answer, thank you much for all your posts 😭 it makes it easier to like ichiruki, sometimes ichihime fans just make it so hard, like you're committing a crime

Oh, thank you! ☺️

Antis really think an unrealistic age gap is a problem in a FANTASY or SUPERNATURAL setting? Especially in the Bl3ach universe, where there's already a canon couple with that trope? Doesn't it sound silly?

They act as if Mortal X Immortal ships don't exist, as if they aren't a popular trope/dynamic in many forms of media. They call IR problematic because of it, but turn around & ship pairings like Yato & Hiyori (Noragami), Inuyasha & Kagome, Tomoe & Nanami (Kamisama Kiss), etc. Yet, they cross the line at IR?

They conveniently forget or ignore the fact Ichigo is a product of Isshin & Masaki, a canon couple that the antis support & like to use as "parallels" with their mid ship (even though those of us who can read know IM parallels IR). Isshin was probably way older than Masaki, older than Rukia even, yet once again, the antis cross the line at IR?

Hypocrisy, much? They only bring up the age gap when it's convenient for them. When they want to grasp at straws to invalidate IR. But all their arguments have a counter-argument to them 🤷‍♀️. IR is just that powerful 😌.

Ichigo & Rukia vibed so well right off the bat, getting on a first name basis early on, & often seemed to share the same brain cell 🤣.

Souls in Soul Society age much slower & differently than living humans. Rukia was the equivalent of Ichigo's age, so she was "15" in SS terms when they first met. Antis like to act as if she's some ancient hag or s*x goddess who's going to corrupt poor innocent Ichigo, yet Rukia showed to be quite innocent in many matters, not to mention, she thought kisses were only for greetings in one of the early chapters 💀. Out of the two, I'm pretty sure Ichigo would know more than her in these matters...

(I've also seen this stupid argument against HitsuKarin. They be calling Hitsugaya an "old man"!! Like, seriously?! How is he gonna "corrupt" Karin—by giving her a large stack of paperwork?! He's about 10-11 years old in SS terms, the equivalent of Karin's age, who was 11!! Then they both conveniently aged up to 12-13 after the 17-month timeskip... Just what was Kub0 getting at?!🤦‍♀️)

Not to mention, Ichigo felt very at home in Soul Society & got along so well with all the "ancient geezers & hags" there, even going as far as calling some of them by first name & hanging out with them like old buds (such as Renji). No wonder Ichigo didn't feel like he belonged in the Living World much; he really was born in the wrong generation (or world), lol... 🤪 He always showed to be more in touch with his shinigami side... (no wonder he chose that out of all his hybrid sides in TYBW, & yet... 😮‍💨)

Anyway, don't engage with the antis. Ignore/block/mute them. Follow the age-old fandom rule: just ship & let ship. Don't let the antis ruin your fun. There's so much IR content out there 😄.

[tams-writeblr]

Love in a hopeless Place 12

Synopsis: She was barely grown up, when she stepped into the bar that was the center of Zaun's resistance. The people she met there would forever change her life, and one of them especially. Silco x reader/OC; first-person POV; overall rating: E for Explicit; canon-compliant (though I might make a stretch on the timeline here and there to make things fit my symbolism); age gap! (younger female, older male); 9 chapters; 45k; cis female reader/POV; no beta-reader; completed Chapter ratings/warnings: T for Teen, somewhat strong language Wordcount: <1k Author's note: Please note, that the first paragraph doesn't represent my opinion on this topic, imo Kid has all the right to be angry. Ah Claus, the father everyone wished they had growing up, right? I really try to write him as just a really good dad, and he's just always worried about his daughter. I mean, who would want their daughter to date a naughty revolutionary? My dad was freaking out about a kind mechanic, haha. And of course smooth bastard Silco does his magic... Comments would be appreciated!

Today's music recommendation: Dick Brave - Take good care of my Baby

<- previous | next ->

Act II

Chapter II

Part 2/3

Work was a welcome distraction. Chatting with my favorite customers made my mood go up again, so that I didn't have to think about the fight all day. Still in the calm moments I was wondering if I had overreacted or could I have shown him more clearly that I didn't want what he was doing. Just like that, I was hanging in my thoughts, filling the racks with new goods as the doorbell rang.

"Ah, Silco, my friend!", I heard my father chirp. "Gods, lad, what happened to your face?"

"Ah, some enforcer-bastard didn't like it."

"Yeah, yeah, always the same with them. What can I get you today?"

"Actually, Claus, I'm not here for you today, but for your gorgeous daughter."

As I heard him talk like that, a glass of preserved mushrooms slipped my fingers and shattered at the ground.

My father called my name and asked if everything was alright, but Silco was already next to me, helping me pick up the pieces.

"What the fuck are you doing here?", I hissed, and took the shards rudely out of his hands. Of course, I cut myself doing so. I cursed under my breath, letting the pieces fall back to the ground.

Silco quickly took my hand and placed my bleeding finger to his lips. 

Looking into his green eyes, I felt my anger be washed away like junk on the shore.

"I'm so sorry for this morning. I couldn't let you go like that."

Before I could answer, the sound of my father clearing his throat made us both jump.

"What on Runeterra is going on here?" His eyes were fixed on my hand that was still in Silco's.

He gracefully stood to his full height. "This is part of the reason why I'm here, old friend. I just can't square this with my conscience anymore. I've been seeing your daughter." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "For a while, already."

My father looked at me, and I also raised to stand straight. "Do you know how old she is?", he growled, while not looking away from me.

"In fact, this was the first thing I asked her. Indirectly."

My father growled lowly and gave Silco a look that I truly didn't like. "So it was you all this time? I should have known by this stupid jacket she's been carrying around all the time. And those ugly red shirts she was wearing."

"Okay, I got that you don't like my fashion sense, Claus, but I hope this doesn't stand between us, on a professional basis, I mean. You need to know that I love your daughter."

I gasped at the confession, and my father gave me a short, warning look.

"Don't get cocky, pal." He seemed to be going over the last half year and finally faked a smile. "But, I'm afraid I'm not in the position to tell her who she's seeing." He looked at me with as friendly a face as he was able to. "Love, please go get a broom and a towel. I'll escort your boyfriend outside. He's clearly distracting you too much." The word "boyfriend" cut like a knife, and I cringed, quickly running to the broom closet to get everything I needed to clean up my mess. As my father returned to the store a few minutes later, I didn't dare to look at him. "You could have told me yourself!", he scolded, and I heard the disappointment in his voice. "I thought you told me everything." He clicked his tongue at my weak apology. "Silco of all people. You know that he attracts trouble, don't you?"

I nodded weakly. I had caught a glimpse of it just now.

Claus sighed. "At least he seems to be in earnest with you."

"What makes you think so?", I asked carefully.

"That he had the nerve to talk to me like that. I remember when I dated your mother. I was shitting my pants when I met her father. But he had to meet me. You were on your way." He gasped. "Gods, don't tell me you're-"

"No!", I quickly cut him off. "No! We're being careful."

My father covered his ears. "I don't wanna hear about this, you hear that?"

I laughed and hugged his broad frame. Planting a big kiss on his cheek, I thanked him for always being there for me.

[come-away-with-me87]

It Takes Two Chapter 4

Chapter 3 here

Shouta looked at you for a moment and said, "Midnight's right, Miss- Y/N.  I think we can be on a first name basis."  And with that, he was out the door in a flash.  That was the first time you ever heard him call you by your first name.  You couldn't help but blush once again for some unexpected reason.  Since Toshinori wasn't drinking, he took his leave next.  "Awww, why is everyone leaving?  The night is still so young!" Hizashi exclaimed.  Toshinori just shook his head and laughed, saying goodnight to everyone.

Finally, it was just you, Hizashi and Nemuri left at the table.  Nemuri and Hizashi looked at each other, and Nemuri then looked at you and finally said, "you know, Y/N, I'm just going to say it. Tonight was supposed to be a setup.  For you and Shouta.  That's why we didn't tell either of you that the other was going to be here." You gawked at her, completely dumbfounded.  You then looked at Hizashi, "you knew about this, too?"  Hizashi just looked at you and nodded his head.  You said, "why in the world would you try to set me up with Mr. Aiza- Shouta?" The man does not like me, he barely speaks to me."  Nemuri and Hizashi just looked at each other.  Hizashi spoke up, "I already told you, Y/N, you would know if Eraser didn't actually like you."  You didn't know what else to say.

After several awkward minutes, you finally said, "guys, I appreciate what you were trying to do.  But it's just not like that with me and Shouta.  He's my boss.  Sure, I wish we were better friends, but again, it's just not like that."  Nemuri and Hizashi looked at each other again, and both of them just shrugged their shoulders.  "Fine, Y/N, if that's how you feel.  Now, why don't you tell me about this Kenzo guy?  He's a complete smokeshow," Nemuri said.  Hizashi then spoke up, "yeah, I'm man enough to say when another man is good-looking.  And THAT dude was good-looking."  You just laughed at the two of them.  "Nothing else happened that I haven't already told you.  But yes, I'm in complete agreement with both of you with how handsome he is."  

And just like that, the conversation started flowing easily again between the three of you, like nothing out of the ordinary happened that night.  It was around 11:30pm when you found yourself yawning, though, and told Hizashi and Nemuri you were going to take your leave.  "Thanks for coming out tonight, Y/N.  It was fun," Nemuri said as she gave you a hug.  "Night, guys, I'll see you guys on Monday," you said to both of them with a wave as you walked out the door.  You got into your car and took a deep breath.  Well, what a night that was.  You turned your key in the ignition, and made your way home.

Once you arrived home, you changed out of your clothes into a comfy set of pajamas, washed your face, brushed your teeth, and sat down on your couch with Ariel.  You couldn't help but think about the events of that night.  From being asked out on a date by Kenzo, to finding out tonight was supposed to be a setup for you and Shouta.  That was absurd!  Shouta definitely didn't see you in that light.  Nothing would have come out of that setup.  You found yourself yawning again.  "Come on Ariel, let's go to bed."  She followed you into your bedroom, where you laid down on your comfy bed and pillows.  You eventually drifted off into a deep sleep, dreaming of going on a date with an ebony-haired, scruffy, tired-looking man.

******

To be continued...

[greekgeek24]

Read the new chapter of Exile!!!

Link: Exile - Chapter 18 - GreekGeek24 - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

Excerpt: Steve’s head pounded. He tossed back two aspirin, hoping they’d take the edge off the migraine clawing at his skull. Five minutes into his first day, and he already had no idea what to do with himself. He wasn’t used to having nothing to do, nothing to take his mind off all the shit he had to deal with on a daily basis. 

The nurse’s office still smelled like antiseptic and lemons. The lights were too bright, and the room too quiet. He hadn’t even finished unpacking the supply cart when the door creaked open.

A girl with auburn hair stepped in, half-carrying a boy with silver hair and a sock soaked red at the ankle.

“Uh… hi?” the boy offered, leaning heavily on her. “Teacher said to come here.”

Steve blinked at them, brain still lagging behind.

Right. Nurse. That was him now.

“Come in,” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat. “What happened?”

The girl didn’t hesitate. “He tried to jump the stairs again.”

“Hey—I almost landed it,” the boy muttered.

She rolled her eyes. “You never land it.” She guided him toward the cot with the practiced ease of someone who’d done it a dozen times before. 

Steve’s gaze dropped to the blood spreading at the boy’s ankle. “Let’s get that cleaned up.” He motioned for the boy to sit and started rummaging through the drawers for antiseptic and gauze. His fingers were shaky, slow, and his stomach was churning again. The aspirin wasn’t helping… “What’s your name?” He asked as he knelt to peel down the sock.

“Pietro,” the boy said softly. “And this is my sister, Wanda.”

“I’m not his sister,” the girl corrected, arms crossed. “I’m his twin. That’s different.”

“Right.” Steve nodded faintly as he swabbed the scrape. “Nice to meet you both. I’m—uh—Nurse Rogers. First day.”

“You look like it,” Wanda said, raising a brow.

“Wanda!” Pietro hissed, but she didn’t take it back. Just stared at Steve like she was trying to figure him out.

[blueraineshadows]

Brothers Part Ten

Garreth Weasley 🔺️F!MC 🔺️ Oscar Weasley

A love rivalry between two Weasley brothers. Oscar is an OC created by @eternalremorse and used with her permission.

NSFW 🔞

Chapter Master List / Ao3 Link

Chapter Ten - Being Honest With Yourself

Huddled in a thick robe, woolly hat and scarf, MC shivered and clasped her gloved hands as she sat in the Hufflepuff stands of the Quidditch stadium. The game was fast-paced and energetic, the teams all pink cheeked from the November chill as Gryffindor faced Hufflepuff.

Poppy was seated beside her, wrapped up snug in Sebastian's Slytherin scarf, her little nose peeking over the top of it, the tip all pink from the cold. She was cheering on their house, of course, and MC was conflicted. Her house needed the points badly. However, Oscar played for the opposition. Of course, she was here for him, but it had not gone unnoticed that she had not worn his Gryffindor scarf today, choosing a chunky knit one instead. When he had pointed it out, his handsome face falling in disappointment, she had claimed it was for house loyalty reasons. The truth was a little different. She was trying to blend in. Hiding was the better word for it.

Ever since Oscar had been signed for the Montrose Magpies, he had become even more popular. His photograph in the sports section of the Daily Prophet had earned him a legion of new fans outside of the school grounds, and students were approaching him for autographs and wanting to chat with him.

This was all very lovely, and Oscar was thrilled. However, MC was not enamoured as much. Being noticed in his company had started the chatter about her known deeds in 5th year again, and this was not something she was comfortable with. She was not a hero. People calling her such merely grated on her already tense nerves, and she wanted no part of that fame. It stirred up memories she would rather forget, called forward the bad dreams that plagued her sleep, and added to the ever-present anxiousness that made her chest tight.

The other side effect of Oscar's popularity was the increase in admirers of the female variety. There was new graffiti on the desks and in the girls bathrooms. MC was forced to read the declarations of affection for Oscar on a daily basis, and come face to face with simpering girls who asked dreamily for his autograph.

The charming gentleman that Oscar was, he spoke to each and every one, signing his name and bestowing that handsome smile upon them. MC could only stand by and watch, feeling invisible and completely out of her depth.

As Oscar swooped through the sky above the Hogwarts pitch, she knew he had a bright future ahead of him, and how could she begrudge him that. She didn't. But the extras that came with it were beginning to grind her down.

Perhaps the excited, hushed chatter going on behind her right now was adding to her anxiety. It certainly aided in her resentment of his new found fame. Two Hufflepuff girls, fifth years she suspected, were giggling and admiring Oscar.

"Just look at him," one sighed dreamily. "I wish I had the courage to approach him, by all accounts he is so very lovely."

"Yes, I heard he smiles and winks at the girls," the other said. "I want my newspaper cut out signed so I can put it beside my bed."

The first girl giggled. "Imagine having the real thing beside your bed, or better yet, in your bed."

"If only, what I would give for one kiss. Too bad he is with the Hero of Hogwarts. Lucky bitch."

They both giggled again and MC felt her stomach churn and the delicate flutters of panic tightened her chest. Was this how it would be from now on? Would she always be hated for being with him? Would she always be in fear that he would be tempted by so many offers of company?

The worry was exhausting. It was draining what strength she had left after hiding from her own guilt. Her guilt of how much Garreth invaded her thoughts.

Pushing Garreth from her mind, she swallowed hard against nausea. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't face sitting here listening to the girls drool over Oscar like that. As she considered the idea of feigning illness and making her escape, a roar of noise exploded from the Gryffindor stands. MC glanced across the pitch and put her hands to her mouth.

The game was over. Jamie Ambrose, the blonde Gryffindor Seeker, was hovering in the air, his arm raised with the Golden Snitch fluttering in his hand. His team mates rushed to congratulate him, circling him on their brooms, all grinning and pumping their fists.

The groans of disappointment from the Hufflepuff students sounded around her, but she ignored them, her eyes on Oscar as he turned to search her out in the crowd, blowing her a kiss that she held out her hand for and pretended to catch. It was these moments that kept her hanging on, the moments when Oscar's charm and attention swept her off her feet, time and again. She could never resist it.

She heard gasps behind her. "Merlin’s beard. Did you see that? Oscar Weasley is blowing kisses to us!"

Her smile faltered, and she dropped her hand. It was like ice being thrown at the back of her neck. She allowed the fantasy to play out in her head, spinning around and pulling off her woolly hat so that these girls could see who she was. She could stamp her foot and yell at them, point her wand and tell them to close their silly, simpering mouths. He was hers! Oscar Weasley was hers!

It was fantasy. A foolish whimsy that she had no intention of even attempting to do. Childish and petty behaviour was not becoming, and she almost blushed in shame. Is this what she had been reduced to?

What if her relationship with Oscar was based on such fancy? Maybe she was playing a fool's game being with him? Old insecurities were morphing into new ones, but they all had the same theme.

There wouldn't be a happy ending. People always left and she always ended up alone somehow, it had been the same all her life.

Offering Poppy a quick goodbye, MC pushed her way through the throng of students and made her way down to the ground. The temptation to sneak away, make a quick exit, and just disappear back into the castle was so tempting. But her feet led her to the pitch and Oscar's waiting arms.

The team was being swamped with cheering students, girls giggling and waving, hoping for a smile or even a hug from the boys. There was only one girl on the Gryffindor team, and she was sensibly keeping away from it all. The Captain, Isaac Cooper, was lapping up the attention, his arm around a very pretty Ravenclaw who was looking rather pleased to be squished against him.

As she searched the crowd, her eyes met with the dark, sly gaze of Trixie. She looked beautiful, of course, her smirk aimed at MC as she lifted a knowing eyebrow. Trixie's threat to tell Oscar that there was something more between Garreth and herself made MC clench her hands into fists. The weight of it pressed down over her head, and she tore her gaze away from the cunning Slytherin girl. She shouldn't let Trixie get to her.

MC stood on tiptoe, a glint of red hair coming in to view as Oscar pressed through the excited cheering and spotted her, hurrying forward with his broom still in his hand. He laughed and wrapped his arm about her waist, holding her close and lifting her easily, his blue eyes sparkling with delight.

"Do I get a celebratory kiss from my girl?"

The sound of cooing and awe inspired sighs came from behind her at his words. Could they not get a moment of privacy? Apparently not. What could she do but oblige? She bent to press her mouth to his, their lips meeting in a warm touch, and a flash of light exploded beside them.

They broke the kiss, turning in surprise to see a Daily Prophet reporter and photographer beaming at them, a huge wizarding world camera still smoking from taking the image.

"That is going to make the front page of the sporting section," the reporter said, a smug smile on his face. His eyes gleamed as he swept his hand across the air. "Quidditch rising star and the Hero of Hogwarts in love! Utter perfection!"

"No!" MC said, shaking her head. Her fingers bit into Oscar's shoulders. "Don't put that in the paper, please."

"Oh, come now. Don't be shy! The readers will love it," he said.

MC struggled out of Oscar's grip and he let her down, a worried frown on his face. "What is it?"

She looked at him, irritated. "This doesn't bother you? They took a picture of us kissing!"

He almost shrugged, confusion mixing in with his unconcerned look as he turned his gaze from the reporter and back to her. "It's just a photo, MC. It won't hurt anyone."

"It won't hurt you," she muttered.

His brow creased and he reached for her again but she stepped back. Did he really not see the invasion of privacy this was? It was bad enough that the other students bore witness to their displays of affection, something that she had always struggled with, but this? The whole Wizarding World who cared to peruse the sports pages would see them kissing. Her cheeks burned and she felt tears sting her eyes. It bothered her, and she wasn't entirely sure why, she just hated the thought of it being on show.

She needed to get away and be alone. She needed to escape. The panic was sinking its teeth into her chest, gnawing and clawing and she felt her lungs burn as she tried to breathe through it.

"I... I need to go," she said, eyes darting for an escape route. "Enjoy this time with your team mates..."

Oh, she hated the flash of disappointment in his lovely eyes as she backed up and brushed him off. How many times did she do this to him? As much as she hated the thought of losing him to another's arms, she was doing a good job of pushing him away.

She turned, unable to meet his gaze any longer and began to push through the crowd. Almost free, the lawn in sight and beyond that, the castle. Sanctuary. A hand grabbed her arm and she spun, Oscar right there, eyes pleading. He had followed her.

"Please don't go. Why are you running away? It was just a photo. Do you hate being seen with me that much?"

His words made her wince, her heart aching as she tried to find the words to explain it.

"It's not so much you, it's what being in the spotlight does to me," she said.

He frowned. "I know you're shy, MC. But, it's just a photo. Is it really so bad to be seen with me? What happens when I start playing for the Magpies? Will you avoid me then too?"

She stared at him, at a loss for what to say. She was too scared to think that far ahead, the future outside of Hogwarts looming up before her, uncertain and honestly, daunting.

"It's the hero stuff. I hate it when they call me that. Being seen with you drags it all up again."

The honesty of the words lay heavy on her tongue. His gaze softened and he urged her closer, tugging gently on her arm as he cupped her face.

"You were a hero though. All that you did for the school and the fight against dark wizards... MC, you're so strong, so amazing..."

"No!" She pulled out of his touch, the panic squeezing as she remembered all the pain, the death... the loss. Her voice shook with emotion, the anguish that she had tried to keep buried. "I'm not amazing, neither am I a hero... what happened last year... you don't understand."

She couldn't speak of it, her throat closing against the horrible truth. Garreth's horrified face flashed up behind her eyes, his reaction to her ability to steal life had been like a cruel twist of a knife in her heart. To see that in Oscar's eyes, to lose the warm way he looked at her...

She stared at him and saw the way his face tightened, his jaw clenching.

"No, I don't understand," he said flatly. He withdrew from her, arms falling to his sides. "How can I when you won't talk to me? I've tried so hard to get you to open up, to tell me more, but you throw a cold wall up in my face every time I do."

She flinched. The truth of his words were like chunks of ice in her stomach. She did shut him out, she knew she did.

"I can't help it," she said softly, tears threatening.

He huffed a cold, unamused attempt at a laugh. "Oh, I think you can, MC. I'm sure Sallow knows everything there is to know about what goes on in that beautiful head of yours," he said bitterly.

"That's different. He was there..."

"And I'm here now," he snapped, cutting her off. His eyes flashed with something, a passion that looked suspiciously like anger and she clamped her mouth shut, staring up at him. "I'm right here, waiting for you to open up and show me who you really are. I want to know, MC. But somehow, it just feels like we kiss a whole lot, but that's all. Even my brother knows you better than I do."

He looked away then, his fists clenching and his jaw working as he fought against his temper. Her chest constricted with a flutter of fear. Oh Merlin, did he know? Cold horror swept through her. Did he suspect she harboured a softness for Garreth? Had Trixie told him what she saw?

"What... what do you mean?" She asked carefully.

He lifted his gaze, eyes blazing. "I hate that you can be yourself around the likes of Sallow and my brother, and yet you hold back from me. You can trust me, MC."

"Can I?"

The question slipped from her lips before she could stop them, her eyes widening in shock at herself. His eyes widened too, and she could see the hurt in them. Her tears escaped, leaking from her eyes to trace the curve of her cheeks.

"Im sorry," she whispered.

She was no hero. Heroes didn't run. And she ran. She turned her back on the pain flashing on his face and let her feet take her far away from it.

....

The changing rooms were always a hive of chatter and excitement after winning a match. Oscar tried to join in with the celebrations, but behind his smile he was hiding the hurt that stung a lot more than he had expected. He didn't usually get in too deep with girls, but MC had him caught up in something that was new and surprising. This time he had feelings, real ones, and he was trying to get a grasp on himself at the sting of her departure.

She really didn't trust him, her simple query confirming his suspicion that she was deliberately holding back from him. It hurt. It cut him deeper than he liked. His chest ached with the knowledge that she wasn't prepared to open up to him, which meant that for a girl like her, she wasn't going to warm his bed as he had hoped. All the time she didn't trust him, that was never going to happen. With that ache of disappointment came a fear. For the first time in his life, he was scared he was about to lose a girl.

Fuck. He was in deep, deeper than he had realised. He didn't want to lose her. What frightened him most of all was the unfamiliar feeling that he suspected was love.

Did he love her? And was he about to lose her?

These were the questions that tormented him as he prepared to shower and change, braving a smile and laughing along with the others as though he had his life all in order, whilst inside he realised he was clueless about how to handle this.

Hair still damp from the shower, he put the last of his gear away and grabbed his robe.

"Everything alright, Weasley? You don't seem yourself."

Isaac came to stand beside him, leaning his shoulder against the lockers with his arms folded, his dark hair also damp from the showers. Oscar let his gaze travel over his best friend, the confidence and strength that oozed from him suddenly something to envy. Oscar wasn't feeling so confident right now, and it irked him. As a pair, they were formidable, the envy of the other teams and it felt good to be the boys on top. This uncertainty was pulling him down, making him question himself. Was he a bad person? He always tried to be decent, well mannered, and he knew he could charm a young lady. But, delving into the realms of love and relationships was new territory for him. Perhaps he wasn't so good at it.

He sighed and shook his head. "Girl trouble."

Isaac smirked. "Since when has that ever been a problem for you before? Is it your little Hufflepuff? I thought you and her were getting on rather well."

Oscar closed his locker and picked up his bag. "So did I, but since things have got hectic with Quidditch stuff she has been pulling away a bit. We, er... we had a fight after the match. She doesn't like all this new attention."

"So, she is jealous?"

Oscar frowned. "I'm not convinced it's jealousy. It's something more than that."

"This is why I just fuck girls and don't let feelings get in the way. I know where I am with a roll in the sheets," Isaac said, shaking his head. "When you start adding deeper stuff into the mix, it gets complicated. I mean, what will happen when you leave school and start touring? Is she going to wait for you?"

Oscar felt his stomach sink even lower. He met Isaac's piercing blue eyes. "I doubt it."

Isaac's face twisted with a knowing but sympathetic look. He put his hand on Oscar's shoulder. "Maybe you need to cut her loose, Os, before one of you gets hurt."

Oscar hung his head. Normally, cutting a girl loose was nothing. Easy. But with MC, the very thought of it made him want to shut everything down. He didn't want to cut her loose. She felt too good in his arms. And if he did, what then?

He had the sneaking fear that if she was set free, his brother would catch her with open, waiting arms.

"You make it sound so easy," he grumbled.

Isaac stared at him a moment. "Bloody hell, Weasley. This isn't just a fling is it? You really like her."

"She isn't like all the other girls, Issac. It's different with her."

"Have you bedded her yet?"

Oscar shook his head. "We have fooled around a bit, but no, nothing as lovely as that yet."

Isaac nodded thoughtfully. "Is she a virgin? I'm surprised Sallow didn't dip his wick in there."

Oscar frowned. "Yes, she is, and do you mind? I'd rather not have that image in my head, thanks."

Isaac chuckled and gave him a light shove. "Fuck, you have got it bad, Weasley."

Isaac grew thoughtful as they headed towards the exit. "All joking aside, I'm sorry it's not working out how you thought. In all seriousness, if you think it's not going to work out with her, then maybe splitting would be best. I mean, if she is that innocent, then don't take it from her and hurt her afterwards. I know I mess girls around sometimes, but I'm always upfront about it. If feelings are getting caught up, then you need to tread carefully. For both of your sakes."

It was actually reasonable advice as much as Oscar hated to hear it. The thought of breaking it off with her was almost impossible to imagine. How would he find the words when he didn't have them? He would rather find the words to keep her at his side than lose her. Covering his discomfort, he eyed his friend with a playful look.

"Since when did you get so wise about relationships, Cooper?"

Isaac grinned and shrugged. "I'm not just a pretty face."

....*....

Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, Garreth took a drink of water and caught his breath, allowing the cool breeze drifting in through the great doorway to cool his flushed skin. Sebastian had hardly broken a sweat, his demeanour one of relaxed confidence as he joined Garreth on the stone steps that ran the length of the clock tower entrance hall.

"You're getting better at this, you know," Sebastian said. He twirled his wand and gave Garreth a grin. "Where do you suppose you will be putting these new duelling skills to good use? Should we expect you to sign up for Crossed Wands any time soon?"

Garreth huffed a laugh and shook his head. While he was enjoying these duelling practise sessions with Sebastian, he quite liked the fact that it was between the two of them and nobody else. He wasn't learning to join clubs and show off with it. The threat of being caught out by poachers again was the driving force behind these lessons. That, and wanting to be able to protect MC, which was daft considering how powerful she could be. It felt important to him, though.

"Unlikely, I'm not going to sign myself up for a guaranteed loss in Crossed Wands. I will stick with potions," he said. He chewed thoughtfully at his lip. "I just wanted to know how to defend myself properly, especially if I was going to be around MC a lot more. However, I have hardly seen her lately. I get the feeling she is avoiding me. I pushed a bit too much in Hogsmeade I reckon."

Sebastian gave a little sigh and shook his head. "It's not just you she is avoiding, it's everyone. Don't worry, she will come around."

"I hope so. I miss her," he said, brooding a little. He wished he had Sebastian's confidence. Potions was the only time he could really be close to her, and even then she was hesitant around him, the closeness they gained seemingly shifting backwards to the shyness that had been there when she first came to the school. Sometimes he would catch her looking at him, and there was something soft in her gaze, but she lowered her eyes and pulled back. It left him with a longing that stayed with him for the rest of the day.

"And as for the Crossed Wands thing, give it a try," Sebastian said, nudging him with his elbow. His grin was sly, mischievous. "It's just a bit of fun, and as for a guaranteed loss, that doesn't stop Prewett from having a go. Don't tell him I said this, but he has got better. It's the practise. It keeps you on your game."

Garreth gave him a considering look. "A bit like with girls then, I suppose."

Sebastian's grin widened. "Absolutely. Don't give up on MC. Hang in there, and stay away from McNair."

Garreth shuddered. "Oh, I intend to stay away from that one. Her eyes see too much."

"What does that mean?" Sebastian asked, brow dipping curiously.

Garreth bit his lip. "Well, there was a moment, between MC and I. It was outside the Three Broomsticks, and... well, nothing happened, but Trixie saw us and guessed far too close to the truth. She suspects something and threatened to expose it to Oscar."

Sebastian's face twisted into a grimace and he shook his head. "Yeah, she is a sly one. I would be careful. However, she probably won't do anything unless there is something in it for her."

Gareeth nodded, his stomach twisting up at the thought of getting into a fight with Oscar. He had pushed his luck in Hogsmeade, had sampled a taste of what it would be like to flirt with MC, and her warmth had surrounded him, coaxed that ever present fire he felt for her. As much as he didn't want to let that fire go, Oscar was his brother and he did not want to hurt him.

Trixie could cause so much trouble, and with MC avoiding him, he was rather apprehensive about the whole thing. All in a room together might be rather awkward, and his birthday was fast approaching, a get together planned to celebrate.

"Let's hope Trixie doesn't turn up for my birthday party," he said, getting to his feet. "I'd rather not have any drama if it can be helped."

Sebastian stood too, smirk present. "Don't worry about your birthday, Weasley. It's all in hand."

"Should I be worried?"

"Just don't make any plans for the day after," Sebastian chuckled. "I reckon you might need some recovery time. Especially if we knock up some extra special brews beforehand."

Garreth smirked at the way Sebastian's eyebrows wiggled mischievously. It wasn't everyday a wizard turned seventeen. He would be of age, and that was a perfect excuse for a party.

"As long as MC is there, then I will be happy," he said.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and gave him a playful shove. "You soft git."

They packed up the training dummy and spoke some more about party plans, Sebastian promising to chat to MC about it. Garreth hadn't been joking. He wanted her there, more than anyone else, regardless of anything else. Including Oscar.

....*....

The coolness of the Undercroft was calming and it helped to keep MC's head clear as she studied. The only sound was the scratch of her quill as she made her notes, grateful for the peace away from distractions. She was avoiding people today, mostly in the form of Weasley boys.

Oscar had been trying to catch a moment with her since their disagreement the other day, but she had been side stepping the inevitable. She didn't have the words to sort through the confusing mess inside her head, and Poppy was despairing of her. MC had pushed up against her friend's pleas to speak to Oscar, ignored her advice and sad eyes, burying her nose into her books or her pillow. She felt bad, really she did. Poor Poppy was only trying to help, and being the good friend that she was, she dutifully went to the common room door to turn a pleading Oscar away with some excuse.

MC stubbornly avoided the tangled web of emotions and shifting thoughts. If she examined them too closely, she feared what truth she would uncover.

Guilt. That was a big one. And she was hiding from that too. Hiding from betraying thoughts.

Being around Garreth meant remembering their flirtatious dancing. It meant pondering over what he had been about to say before Trixie had interrupted them. As much as she tried to ignore it, the curiosity lingered and she couldn't help but poke at it. It was very difficult to stay away from Garreth, and this was why she was secreted away in the Undercroft. A safe haven that none of them knew about.

Apart from Sebastian and Ominis, of course.

The gate opened revealing the arrival of one the Slytherin boys, a glance over her shoulder revealing it to be Sebastian. He smiled as he approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder as he plonked himself down on a chair beside her.

"There you are. You've been hiding again," he grinned. "Lover boy was looking for you."

She frowned. "I thought he was at practise this morning."

Sebastian's smile widened, his eyes impish. "I wasn't talking about that one."

MC sighed and rolled her eyes, looking down at her notes as her cheeks warmed. Not this again. As if it wasn't hard enough to keep her mind off Garreth, Sebastian was all over it. "You're not funny, Seb."

"Oh, but I am," he teased. He dropped the latest Daily Prophet in front of her, open at the magical symbol puzzle of the day. "You're slacking, MC. Come on, I miss our little challenge. It's been days since you did one."

She groaned and picked up the paper. "I know, Seb. I'm sorry. I just haven't been in the mood."

His expression grew thoughtful as he gazed at her, his teeth worrying at his lower lip. "I don't like seeing you like this," he said, quietly. "You are not yourself. You are hiding away from your friends down here. I miss you, and I know where you are! Imagine how it feels for them."

She turned to him. "I thought you would be far too busy with Poppy to miss me."

His smile was soft. "I am, but that doesn't mean I don't miss you. You're the one who helps Ominis keep me in line. Poppy isn't so good at that. In fact, I would go so far as to say she is a bad influence on me."

MC huffed a laugh at that. It did sound like Poppy. She reached out to take his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I hope you're not getting into too much trouble now."

He squeezed her hand back. "What if I told you that Garreth and I are working on a new potion idea after the success of the energy drink."

"I would say I am mildly concerned," she replied, her lips twitching with a smile.

He chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Are you going to Garreth's birthday party?"

She dipped her gaze with a flicker of uncertainty. The party was all anyone could talk about lately. Another reason she was hiding away. The last party had ended with Garreth touching her face and telling her she was the prettiest girl in the school. She wasn't sure if she could handle any more moments like those, and yet it was his birthday. She had a gift for him, and had thought to see him earlier on his birthday, in private, and skip the party all together.

It was also a reason to avoid having to watch girls throwing themselves at Oscar. It was exhausting, and she knew she would have to face him sometime, but not yet.

"You have to come, MC," Sebastian said, his hand giving hers another squeeze. "Garreth will be upset if you don't."

Sebastian didn't know every secret in her heart, but she was sure he had figured a lot out for himself. His little jokes about Garreth being her other lover boy had some meaning behind them, and the pair had been hanging about together a lot. If Garreth had said anything, Sebastian hadn't revealed it, but he always had positive things to say about his new Gryffindor friend. His eyes watched carefully as he talked Garreth up, as though gauging her reaction. She tried to be careful, but Sebastian could read her like a book.

He was right, though. How could she miss Garreth's birthday party? She would be sad if it was the other way around.

She nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it. It's not every day a wizard comes of age."

Sebastian brightened and stood. "Excellent. Right, I shall leave you in peace now that I know you are alive and well." He leaned over and tapped the newspaper, his playful eyes on hers. "I want to see your completed puzzle by the end of the day. Don't let me down now."

She gave him a firm salute and he laughed, bending to press a fond kiss to her forehead before strolling towards the exit, whistling a low tune as he went.

Watching him leave, she felt a warmth around her heart, grateful for him. Just those few minutes had lifted her mood and she turned back to her notes with a small smile.

But, the Daily Prophet was folded right there, accusing her, and she reached out to pull the newspaper closer. She had not been doing the daily puzzle, and not because she had been moody or busy. It was just another form of avoidance. Today's paper had no images of Oscar, but the one printed after the Quidditch match had published the photo of her kissing him on the pitch.

Hero of Hogwarts and rising Quidditch star in love. A picture of them kissing and an article written full of half truths about them, gossip gathered from other people after her refusal to be a part of it. Her request to not use the photo had been ignored, and she hated that the whole world had seen it.

Someone had cut out the photo and pinned it to the Hufflepuff common room notice board, charmed it with floating hearts, too. She had wanted to rip it down, but Poppy had stopped her.

All of it. Her emotions, the gossip, the newspaper article, and the heavy burden of the hero status, it all seemed to be pressing down on top of her. At some point she was going to break, and she knew that the only way to start fixing it was to speak to Oscar.

She just had to figure out what it meant in her head, and how she was going to say it.

....*....

That evening, after dinner, MC was on her bed reading when Poppy came in with a beaming smile. She came to sit on MC’s bed and gave her an enquiring look.

"You didn't speak to Oscar today, did you?"

MC bit her lip and shook her head, almost wincing at Poppy’s sigh.

"You really need to speak to him, MC. It can't go on like this. He was looking for you at dinner again."

MC shifted and avoided Poppy’s gaze. She was right. Of course she was. It wasn't easy to hide from someone, despite the size of the castle, there was only so many places you could go.

"I will speak with him. I promise."

Poppy looked worried, her hand reaching out to hold MC's. "Do you not want to be with him anymore?"

MC closed her book with a sigh and shrugged. "I don't know. Surely it shouldn't be this hard to be with someone. You aren't like this over Sebastian. What am I doing wrong?"

"Only you can answer that, MC. It's your choice. If it really doesn't feel right, then you shouldn't let it drag on. It's not fair on either of you. I don't like seeing you this way."

Had Sebastian not said the same thing earlier today? Her friends were talking sense and maybe she should listen. She nodded and gave Poppy’s hand a squeeze.

"This might be bad timing, but I need a favour," Poppy asked. Her cheeks flushed pink and her smile was sheepish. "I need you to cover for me tonight."

"Tonight? Why, what are you doing?"

Poppy bit her lip and took a deep breath. "I'm going to sleep in the Slytherin dorm tonight. With Sebastian."

The silence that followed felt so heavy. MC stared at Poppy in shock. Was this not too soon? MC loved Sebastian, dearly, but he was still a boy. What if it wasn't right and they were rushing in to this? Would Poppy end up discarded and hurt if it failed?

"Are you sure about this?" She asked carefully.

Poppy immediately nodded, her mouth fighting against a smile. "I'm ready, MC. This is what I want. He is just..."

Poppy's eyes drifted into a dreamy gaze as she sighed, her face softening in such a way that MC felt a sudden stab of envy. She fought against it, trying to smile with at least some encouragement for her friend. But all she could think about was her own failure when it came to this kind of intimacy. Should she not be day dreaming about sneaking into Oscar's bed, craving the same intimacy?

All she did was flinch away from it. Clearly, she wasn't as ready as Poppy. Or, she wasn't with the right person. The thought was like a bucket of ice and she felt her lips freeze into what must be an unnatural smile.

"Then I am happy for you," she said, her voice a little strained. "Of course I will cover for you."

Poppy squealed and leant forward to pull her into a hug, her excitement lighting her eyes and deepening her lovely blush. MC's envy felt bitter and slippery as she swallowed it down.

"Thank you, MC. And, of course, I will gladly return the favour one day," she said. She squeezed MC's cold hands, her eyes pleading. "Please, talk to Oscar. I do hope you can fix whatever is wrong."

MC nodded and kept her smile firmly in place. As she watched Poppy prepare for her evening, going to bathe and packing her toothbrush, MC knew that wallowing here was not an option. Her failure was her own. Envy was pointless. It solved nothing.

It was time to talk to Oscar.

....*....

The chess board was before him, but Oscar wasn't really seeing the pieces, his mind was elsewhere and he was getting his arse kicked. He blinked and looked up, Elijah's blue eyes gazing at him with a curious frown, the common room's warm glow highlighting his dark hair.

"You're mind isn't really on the game, is it, Os?" He said. His team mate and fellow Beater looked concerned. "Is everything alright?"

Oscar sighed and leant back in his chair, pushing his fingers through his hair. He shook his head.

"Sorry, Elijah. You're right, my head is somewhere else," he said.

MC was always on his mind, the frustration at not being able to speak to her eating at him. He'd given up asking for her at her common room entrance, not able to take another sheepish apology from Poppy, or whoever else was sent to turn him away. He hadn't been able to catch her between classes with their schedules, and he suspected she had been deliberately avoiding the chance of bumping into him. No sign of her in the library or the Great Hall.

It was obvious she didn't want to see him, and judging by the miserable look on Garreth’s face, he hadn't seen much of her either. At least that was some small comfort he supposed.

He eyed his friend, Elijah, thinking for a moment. Perhaps some friendly conversation would take his mind off things where the chess game was clearly failing. "How are things with you and your young lady, Eli?"

Elijah's eyes clouded with a shadow that he shifted fairly quickly, fluffing his hair as he shrugged. "Not my young lady anymore. We broke up."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Oscar said.

"It was for the best," Elijah said. He bent his head over the board and studied the pieces. "Sometimes things aren't meant to be."

Oscar rubbed his chin and was reminded of his chat with Isaac, the idea of things ending between him and MC still not something he wanted to consider, and yet her refusal to even see him the last few days didn't bode well.

"So, is that you sworn off ladies for the foreseeable, or do you have someone else in mind?" Oscar asked.

"I haven't really thought about it." Elijah's cheeks turned a little pink and he shifted in his seat. Oscar noted the tells and a knowing smirk lifted his lips. The boy had someone in mind, and Oscar had a feeling he knew who it was. "Not even our new Chaser? She's a pretty little thing."

Elijah's blush deepened and Oscar grinned. He knew it. Well, he hoped Elijah had the nerve to make a move. Their new Chaser had been watching Elijah at practise and Oscar had the feeling she would say yes if Elijah asked her out.

To see a friend find some happiness would take some of the edge from his own worries.

"Hey, Oscar!"

He turned at the call of his name to see Leander entering the common room, his arm lifted in a wave.

"Oscar, MC is out in the corridor. She is asking for you," Leander called.

Oscar stilled and then his heart began to race. She was here. Relief buzzed through him as he got up from his chair, muttering a quick goodbye to Elijah, but as he crossed the room that relief turned into nerves.

What if she was here to end it?

He pushed the thought down, he couldn't think like that, and he hurried through the portrait hole and out into the corridor.

MC was standing to one side, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, face pale and drawn as she looked towards him. There were dark shadows under her eyes and she looked sad, for want of a better word. His heart constricted as he moved slowly towards her, arms just aching to scoop her up and hold her, but he feared to push her.

"Hello," he said, eyeing her warily.

Her eyes were soft as she gazed up at him. "Hello, Oscar," she replied. Her lips curved upwards into a tentative smile. "How are you?"

"Missing you," he blurted.

She bit her lip, a subtle darkening of her eyes being swiftly hidden as she blinked, her face wincing slightly. She moved forward, her hand reaching to grip the front of his robes, her forehead pressing into his chest.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Immediately, his arms were around her, crushing her to him in hug so tight he heard her gasp, but he buried his head into her, determined to not let go. The scent of her surrounded him, his nose in her hair and his fingers gripping the back of her robe. It felt so bloody good to hold her again. Even better when he felt her arms wind around him to hold him back.

"Can we talk?" She asked, her voice muffled against his robe.

"Of course," he replied, fighting back the nagging feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

....*....

A storage room served as somewhere private for them to talk, away from prying eyes and ears. As Oscar closed the door behind him, MC turned to look at him. She had plucked up the courage to come and find him after Poppy had left for the Slytherin dormitory, needing to clear the air. She was still unsure how to go about this, her thoughts uncertain and the words she needed to say kept slipping away from her.

It didn't help that whenever she looked at him, at those gorgeous, blue eyes, she just seemed to become speechless, her body taking over and responding to him. Seeing him come out of the entrance to his common room after avoiding him had brought forth a rush of feeling she had not expected. His admission that he missed her had rung true with her own feelings. She realised that she had missed him too. The question was how much in comparison.

"I'm sorry I ran from you after the match," she began, nervously twisting her hands together. "I shouldn't have just run away. I was just... overwhelmed."

"Because of the photo?"

She nodded, finding it hard to meet his gaze. "Yes, in part. The photo was printed despite my request for them not to. It was an invasion of privacy, and it dragged up all the events from last year as I feared it would. I don't see how any of that has much to do with your Quidditch accomplishments."

He moved towards her, concern on his face. "I know I snapped at you over your concerns, and for that I apologise, but it's hard for me to be supportive when you shut me out, MC."

He had a point. "It's hard for me to talk about it. It was... traumatic, and I'm still trying to deal with the consequences."

"Let me help you," he said, reaching for her. She flinched back a little, and he hesitated, eyes sad. "I want to help you. MC, you mean a lot to me... I care about you."

Meeting his eyes, she swallowed hard. Knowing he felt that way made this even harder, trying to explain how distant she felt from him was difficult enough without knowing that she was likely to hurt him.

He sighed, face fighting against disappointment. "You don't believe me, do you?"

She turned and fiddled with her hair, chest tightening with the familiar tight band of panic. Did she? She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. This would all be so much easier if she did.

"I'm struggling with all of this," she admitted. "I don't know the first thing about relationships, this is all new and daunting, and I am feeling my way along. I enjoy your company, Oscar, I do. But its not easy to share it with so many other obstacles."

"Obstacles? Like what?"

She looked at him, biting her lip. "Your reputation proceeds you. It's scratched into desk tops and bathroom stall walls. Girls linger around you waiting for a smile or a word, while I flounder along beside you feeling completely out of my depth."

She cringed and put her hands to her face. The words sounded so pathetic and silly once said aloud, and she wished she could take them back. It was hard to look at him, fearing to see what would be on his face at such a confession. She turned her back to him, leaning against a table near the wall as she tried to fight down the panic clawing at her throat.

"MC, I'm sorry. I really am," Oscar said, lingering behind her. "I had no idea you felt this way."

She kept her back to him, leaning against the table and trying to keep her breathing steady. She knew that if she looked into those eyes she would melt, that he would make her forget about the worries that clung to her thoughts. It was becoming exhausting, draining her gradually, day by day. Trying to keep ahead of her confusing tumble of emotions and doing the right thing was getting harder and harder.

He did sound genuinely sorry. Maybe she was being so hard on him because of her own guilt. The unfairness of it all was like a slinking shadow that lurked in the recesses, waiting to dance with her guilt. She hung her head, shoulders defeated.

"I know you are," she said quietly. "It's not easy though, being your girlfriend, waiting in the wings for another to come and tempt you away..."

"That is not going to happen, MC," he said, his voice much closer now. There was almost a pleading edge to his tone as she felt his presence at her back. "You're the only one I want. Please, trust me."

A soft hitch in her breath made her close her eyes as she felt his hand at her waist, his touch gentle as he moved even closer. Her hair fluttered near her ear, teased by the warmth of his mouth as he whispered so close to her skin.

"I want you, and only you."

A shiver travelled along her spine, rational thought seemingly disintegrating as her head subtly tilted. He took the invitation, lips pressing at her neck, soft and teasing as his hand slid around to splay out across her stomach. She felt the firm press of his body at her back, solid and warm, her softness immediately responding and pushing back against him.

Like always, one look, one touch, and she was as malleable as clay in his hands.

Tiny flutters erupted in her belly, her hands flat against the table top began to grip, her fingers bending upwards as she pressed the tips more firmly into the wood.

"Someone could walk in here at any moment," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

She felt him shift against her and then the softly muttered words of a locking charm, the tell tale click of the lock. Anticipation sung through her veins as his hand slid higher up her midriff, his other hand pocketing his wand before coming to rest against her hip.

"Now, I have you all to myself," he taunted, lips grazing her ear. His palm cupped her breast, thumb seeking out a peak through the layers of her clothing and she bit her lip, breathing fast enough to part her lips. "Let me show you how much you mean to me. The things I want to do to you..."

She gasped. The flutters in her belly seemed to ignite and shoot bolts of flame through her core, images conjured of the things he could do, all inspired by the erotic romance novels that Poppy kept slipping into her hands. Some she had allowed him to do, a few times now his hands had found their way under her blouse, but no further. Anything more made her heart pound with uncertainty.

Much like now, his hand moving from her waist to her behind, caressing the curve before squeezing with such suggestive slowness. All the while, he was pressing her into the table edge, her upper body now leaning forward slightly, her hands bracing her weight. It was thrilling, but still she kept thinking to stop it, the sensations overwhelming and making her breathless.

"Oscar..."

"Let me show you," he said softly. "Just relax."

Her sigh was shaky as it left her mouth, heart thudding madly and her head clouding with the sensations that washed over her body as his hand slid lower over her behind. Slowly, he dipped under, fingers brushing with agonising pressure right across her core. Her mouth fell open at the touch, the almost painful twinge of heat shooting outwards drawing a moan from her throat. The shock of it made her cheeks burn.

"See, I can make you feel good," he whispered, his hand stroking back and forth at a leisurely pace, his mouth seeking the tender skin of her neck as he applied just enough pressure with his fingers to make her ache so deliciously.

She had touched herself before, driven by curiosity and need she had explored and brought herself to a release, but this was something else entirely. To feel him touch her in such a way made her throb with the need for more friction, her hips tilting to angle herself better as he teased her through her clothes.

Her cheeks flushed as her body heated, his hands driving her into a dizzying rush between her legs and at her breast. She moaned again, eyes closing as she balanced on the edge of just letting herself fall, letting him do whatever he wanted with her. Was she ready to surrender herself? Could this be the connection that eased her worry?

His hips pressed forward, grinding against her at an angle so that he could continue to stroke against her heat, a low sound escaping him. She felt the nudge of his arousal, tried to imagine what it would be like to see him naked, to let him press that hardness inside of her. She trembled and looked down. His hand was at her breast, her hips rocking against his touch, the brief appearance of his finger tips as he rubbed upwards towards her core making her gasp.

The intimacy of it, every rub of his fingers sending tingling fire through her body, she had to admit that it felt so good. The sensation was heightened and far more arousing than touching herself. Nobody had ever touched here before, he was the first, and as the fire began to take over she wondered why she had waited so long.

Unbidden, she remembered the secret dream, of how she had awoken flushed and trembling, her core throbbing from forbidden touches. In the hazy world of dreams it had been Garreth who had touched her this way, Garreth's hands had reduced her to that mess. Not Oscar.

MC froze. Her cheeks reddened even further with shame. How could she think such a thing when Oscar had his hands on her like this?

"Stop," she croaked, shifting her hips, and pulling away. He immediately retrieved his hand and stilled.

"What is it?"

She couldn’t look at him for fear of revealing the guilty shame that surely shone on her face. The haze of lust faded and reality crushed her. She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks and extracted herself from between him and the table. She needed to put space between them.

"I... I'm sorry," she mumbled, eyes darting away. What to say? What reason could she give? Certainly not the truth. "It was too much."

She heard his sigh and glanced towards him, the frustration and disappointment creasing his brow making her cringe before he quickly hid it, brushing his hand through his hair. "It's fine," he said, a muscle working in his jaw. "I've always said that we would only do what you're comfortable with."

MC was beginning to wonder if that would ever happen, the realisation that it might not slammed into her, and she took another step back, her hand pressing to her chest. Panic tightened it, stole her breath, and her eyes flew to the door.

No. She couldn't run again. She had to stop running from the truth. She had to face it.

All the time she had feelings for someone else, this was never going to work. All the worry about someone else tempting Oscar away from her was pointless when she was lured away herself. Her guilty conscience was making up excuses, and she was ashamed of herself.

Hero indeed.

"I can't do this," she whispered.

"What does that mean?" He asked, a flash of fear in his eyes.

Her own eyes burned with tears. This hurt. She hated it. But like a dressing on a wound, she had to tear it free. There would be no healing if she didn't.

"Us. I can't... " She shook her head, the first tear slipping free. "I'm sorry, Oscar. I think we should part ways. I'm not cut out for this, you deserve to be with someone who can make you happy."

"You make me happy!" There was a desperate edge to his voice. "Please, don't do this. I've never felt this way about a girl before. I'll do whatever it takes..."

"No," she said, cutting him off. "You have a whole new life waiting for you when you leave Hogwarts, a life you have worked hard for, and I don't want to hold you back. It's better this way, trust me. I'm sorry. It has to be over."

The devastation on his face was unbearable. MC clutched her hands together in front of her chest, telling herself over and over that she was doing the right thing. This was for the best.

Oscar slipped his wand from his pocket and unlocked the door. The click of the lock sounded so final in the quiet of the room. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. She had hurt him. It shone in those pretty eyes, and she hated herself for putting it there.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Grabbing the door handle, she yanked it open and left before she changed her mind.

....*....

In her bed, alone, with only a pillow to hug for company, MC looked across towards Poppy’s empty bed. Was she alright? Happy?

Of course she was. Sebastian would be taking care of her. MC felt a fresh wave of tears creep up on her and she buried her face into her pillow. Whilst being happy for her friends, her heart felt shredded and brittle like glass. Oscar's devastated face haunted her thoughts behind her eyes whenever she closed them. It was hard to keep telling herself that this was for the best. It was. She had done the right thing.

It didn't stop it from hurting though. She had pushed away the first boy she had ever kissed, the first to capture her interest and steal her away. But, if she searched deep and truthfully, Oscar hadn't fully captured her heart. If he had, she wouldn't be here letting her tears soak into her pillow right now. She would be with him, caught up in soft dreams like Poppy was over Sebastian.

Oscar had made her heart beat faster, awoken a fire in her blood, but she just hadn't been able to make that complete leap with him. She would always hold back.

As MC let her sobs quietly ebb to a stop and try to find the safety of sleep, she thought of soft, green eyes and warm smiles. The safety and comfort that she found in Garreth's arms had soothed the tightness in her chest. His voice and warm presence had slowly stolen over her until he filtered through into her dreams. She had thought of him when Oscar had touched her, and that was the final truth.

She had feelings for Garreth, feelings she had to tuck away safely until she was ready to look at them again. For now, she needed to heal. Oscar needed to heal.

She had made the right choice. Hadn't she?

To be continued...

[merv606]

I kinda wish there was a one-off chapter in Mercy from the POV of a long time guard who’s on a first name basis with Terry.

And over the many years he’s known him, he’s never once seen him take a threat in stride. Laugh it off maybe, but never actually back down from one.

Until this man he brought home.

In all his years, only this guy has bitten, scratched, burned, almost stabbed, and threatened to cut off Terry’s dick… and gotten away with it.

He’s never seen him take a hint of attitude from anyone.

I guess love really does make you crazy-ER.

Ask and ye shall receive.

First time that Daniel throws something at Terry, Tom, the guard on Daniel duty that day, as they have taken to calling it, thinks this is it. Already mentally preparing the steps to have the clean team assembled; they’re about to have to dispose of a body.

It’s only been a few weeks since this turn of events, being summoned here for this, and Tom had been the first one allowed into the room, normally standing vigil outside instead.

There’s something about the man though, and Terry himself for that matter, his behaviour around him and about him that Tom can’t quite put his finger on. None of them can. It’s like Terry becomes another version of himself; a version no one has ever seen let alone can recognize.

Short and SFW

Despite it all, no matter what Daniel dares to dish out to awards Terry, whether it be vitriol and threats, or attempted physical assault, Terry does nothing, simply taking whatever Daniel dishes out towards him.

Then there is the attitude he gives Terry that he would never stand for from anyone else. Attitude that, when given to Terry by people in the past, Tom has broken teeth over.

But now here, Daniel already at the beginning of what atom can tell is going to be another meltdown, Terry simply ducks out of the way, the glass shattering against the wall. He doesn’t even concern himself with it, all his attention on the smaller yet very irate man, speaking softly and calmly, like Terry’s trying to both not spook him while also trying to soothe him, approaching slowly.

Daniel stands stock still, watching Terry inch closer.

Next thing they both know, the smaller man is moving faster than either of them were expecting, trying to dodge past Terry, but Terry is quicker, easily stopping him from leaving, but in the ensuing melee, a fist catches Terry in the cheek.

Spitting and snarling like an enraged animal, Terry tries to subdue Daniel without, from what Tom can tell, causing any harm, despite the fact that a small cut is already visible on Terry’s cheek, appearing from where the fist caught him.

Clearly not attacking back, only defending.

“At least you’re showing some spirit,” Terry remarks almost delightedly, once he has Daniel on the ground, his legs trapped under his, his arms trapped under the tight hold Terry has him in.

Tom knows better than to step in.

They are to let Terry handle him, and only intervene if necessary, and even then there are strict rules, rules that, in the ten years he has worked for Terry Silver, were never given for any prior situation or person.

So he stands, watching Terry quickly get the upper hand. Watches as the older man smiles - smiles - when Daniel tries to rear back and hit him with the back of his head.

“I need you to calm down for me ….”

It has the opposite effect, of course, so much so that they fall over on their sides, but Terry is still holding on.

The guard grabs a sedative, they’re all required to carry them, knowing Terry will not be able to get his from his pocket. Once he gets the nod of approval from Terry he steps forward, quickly injecting Daniel who is too busy trying to break free to maim Terry that he doesn’t even notice. That is until the familiar feeling of a needle pricking his skin registers.

For his part, Daniel manages to sink his teeth into Tom’s hand, who, despite the pain and urge to back hand him for it, doesn’t react.

Part of those strict rules are that they, none of the guards, are to react or hurt Daniel, under any circumstance, unless it it to prevent Daniel from hurting himself. One guard used a bit too much force, leaving slight bruises on Daniel’s arm and he was never seen again.

“I’m going to kill you,” Daniel says evenly, in direct odds to how hard he is struggling against the older man’s oppressively claustrophobic hold.

The guard doesn’t react - it isn’t the first time this man has threatened to kill Terry either.

Any other situation and Daniel would have been taken care of already, and the guard would have gotten his for the teeth marks in his hand, courtesy of the little shit. He supposes though, were situations to be reversed, he wouldn’t be taking it nearly as well.

“I know you’ll try,” Terry chuckles, a quick kiss placed to the mop of his hair, his struggling slowing down, movements more and more sluggish, until it stops entirely as the drugs take over entirely.

Tom wouldn’t say Terry is cooing to the younger man the entire time - Terry Silver doesn’t do such a thing - but he can’t say Terry isn’t doing that exact thing.

“So stubborn,” he murmurs. “Going to fight me at every point aren’t you?” There is a blissful look on Terry’s face that Tom doesn’t think he’s even seen before; a peace there that doesn’t make sense, given the situation. He seems completely content, like a man who has everything he’s every wanted.

Terry loosens his grip and Daniel pulls an arm free, but he’s too out of it to do anything, and Terry laces their hands together, bringing their clasped hands to his mouth, kissing each finger on Daniel’s hand.

Once he’s sure Daniel is out, Terry picks up the smaller man, laying him gently down on the bed.

“Need that looked at? Tom asks as Terry finally emerges, a suspiciously long amount of time later, Tom having stepped out as soon as Terry had laid him down on the bed.

“No it’s fine - he’s given me worse,” and Terry chuckles again.

Tom wonders if he’s fallen into the twilight zone.

A decade he’s worked for Terry, and done some crazy shit because if it, and he has never seen anything like this. Never seen Terry react to something Like this.

Terry has certainly has done worse for less; far worse for much much less.

For lack of a better word, Terry seems besotted with the smaller man; obsessed in a way Tom has never seen.

“I’m just glad he’s showing signs of life. He’s always been a handful. It’s the temper. Seems it’s only become worse the older he gets,” and that expression is back on his face, a happiness Tom has never seen on his face before, and that tone it’s so damn fond.

“I’m going to feel it tomorrow though, and you should get that checked out though,” Terry says, finally noticing the damage inflicted on Tom by his boy.

Tom nods. He also knows there will be a handsome bonus in his pay for following the rules and not retaliating, as he would have with anyone else.

“Are you able to do the night rotation?” Terry asks as he locks the door, before moving away as soon as another guard comes to stand watch. “I have a feeling he’s going to be no easier to control when he wakes up and I trust you the most around him. We must be careful that …”

“He doesn’t get hurt. Yes sir. That’s no problem.” They fall in step together. “I’ll wear gloves,” he smirks.

Terry claps him on the shoulder with a laugh. “That would be advisable. Maybe I’ll do the same.”

They head back to the control room, video monitors with various camera feeds, Tom prepared to go over the security details surrounding Daniel and the house, as they do every night.

[phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing]

Yaknow I've seen folks say Vita is a milf/the mom of the seven peachicks, but as much as I love milfs, I don't agree, like, at all.

I mean, I know these were probably assumptions based on out of context images or spoilers, which, make up whatever headcanon you want. So long as you don't go claiming you're right and everyone else is wrong or spread misinfo. This isn't a "fuck these people" post, this is a "this is my opinion" post.

Personally, I don't think she's like a mother to them. Rather, she's a textbook big sister.

What is a mother? Well the usual expectation is:

Creation of the child (or at least taking them in)

Nurturing the child

Seeing the child as their own

Of course there are mothers, both real and fictional, who don't fulfill these, but they're usually going to be seen as bad mothers if they don't, or unfit for the title...

Now let's match these points with what we know about what Vita does for the kids as of chapter 40.

(Note: not using official translation as it's not out yet)

1. Creation of the child/Taking them in

Vita does not live with the children. Vita is absent most of the time, only coming back very rarely, rarely enough that the kiddos complain how long every visit takes despite seemingly being at least hundreds of years old. She cannot be said to have "taken them in", as Phosphorus seems to be more their home than hers.

We do not know how Vita or the seven kids were created, probably Sa's doing, however I suspect that Vita might have been the one to name them, as they all share her name "Vita" and a religious term as a prefix that Vita uses like it's their given name.

Vita named herself and enjoys philosophizing, so it's likely that she picked such names over the more down-to-earth Sa whose pet robot was literally named "Ugly"... In fact, Sa probably wouldn't have bothered with naming the kids at all.

So, she probably didn't make them directly, didn't take them in, but she probably did name them when their creator didn't just like she did for herself?

2. Nurturing the child

Nurturing means "care for and protect (someone or something) while they are growing".

As of Hua's visit, the seven children are at least centuries old and do not appear to "grow" in the traditional sense, though they still behave like children, so the "while they are growing" part is already dubious. Some of them are more mature than others, but we don't have the context necessary to know whether Blue is mature because he was born like that or not, perhaps he just grew more suspicious over time and matured as a result, at least doesn't seem to be Vita's doing.

What about the first part? Care for and protect? Vita is never shown protecting the children from anything, but that doesn't mean she hasn't done it, just that we don't know. It's possible.

As for caring for them, we don't know whether she used to help more, but as of Hua's visit:

Vita brings back souvenirs and stories from her travels (AKA tokens from worlds she just destroyed), but she's not shown doing anything specific for the kids on a regular basis. If she does so, it's in secret.

They admire her and care for her collection in the museum, but while she is pleasant (as is her usual off business mode), she blatantly lies to them about always coming back, and they do not know much about her at all. Violet picks up on her discomfort, but Vita stays distant and keeps them at an arm's length, away from her true feelings.

The biggest instance of caring for the kids we see is a tearful little Red asking for advice because her friend started ignoring her. First off, Vita doesn't drop everything to listen to her, she forces Red to spit it out by threatening to leave again.

Second off, the advice Vita gives is based off her own experience, but she mentions learning about part of what she shares recently. Rather than nurturing, she just lays it on Red like she thinks it is...

...and third off, in the end, Red finds her own answer after hearing what Vita had to say, surprising her elder.

That's pretty far away from "motherly caring", rather, it feels they discover more together as peers. Her advice is shown to be flawed and incomplete as she's also still learning. (incidentally I suspect this conversation with Red is why she stuck around to explain everything to Seele in ch39, showing she'll take the peachick's advice too).

3. Seeing the child as their own

So what does Vita have to say about those peachicks?

Vita does call them her family when she states she trusts them to keep her collection safe, but the familial context is colored by the children calling her big sister, not mother.

What else is there?

Like the little ones said, it's just too empty. But, I have to think about what kind of decorations to use to dispel the spiritual coldness brought about by that "emptiness".

In the museum item "Freedom", she has this to say. She calls them little ones, and started the museum collection due to their comment, but her concern is on the "spiritual coldness", not particularly on the children learning something. I read this as more of a "little siblings" kind of thing.

Hi, do you like my new look? From now on, I'm going to live with this face. Haha, don't be scared, it's just a joke. (...) More importantly… do you think it really looks like a pumpkin with an evil smile?

In the description of "Agua", Vita plays a prank on the kids and enjoys showing them something a little scary. Again, this feels more like a big sister thing to me, she's not acting responsible like a mother.

Although Little Green repeatedly told me that the clock was completely broken, I still kept it. It's only three minutes slower every day, so it doesn't really matter. The atmosphere here is so relaxing, so why bother taking everything seriously? "It's okay, it'll be recycled, disassembled and repaired, and it'll be ready to go again in no time." "Isn't it normal for a clock that is out of tune to need to be calibrated?"

"Farewell" has an ominous description, but I'd like to focus on Vita being excessively chill and the child taking more responsibility for a broken item than her. Not even trying to be motherly at all...

Conclusion

We don't know a lot, but what we don't know is best described like my friends @logosminuspity and @muntiller2 did

she gives off more big sis vibes because she's not nurturing and is much more self-focused

constantly out, somewhat distant, wants to leave, etc she's textbook older sibling of an abusive home counting the days they become 18 to get the fuck out