#and they liked our horrible ideas and our sweeter ones too and they liked *us* and they don't know this

[quinnkdev]

"Ants From Up There" - Analysis

The tragedy of pouring from an empty heart

Music by Black Country, New Road. Essay by Quinn K.

[I made this little text because I felt like writing something about this album, since I still think about it and listen to it a lot, to this day. Hope you enjoy.]

cw: toxic relationship dynamics, blood, weight-loss mention, drowning mention, cancer mention

To a lot of people, there's an undeniable pull to giving. The idea of committing to something - or somebody - greater than one's self is alluring to many. And in commitment of that kind, to give is normal; giving money, giving time, giving attention, giving possessions.

When we truly believe in something - or somebody - and want the object of our adoration to thrive, we'll give our hearts' contents away.

...To a lot of people, there's an undeniable pull to receiving gifts.

The contradiction is obvious, as is the problem - giving is finite, and receiving is infinite.

Black Country, New Road's sophomore effort "Ants From Up There" tells of a doomed situation like that. The Concorde Fallacy, named after the multinational Concorde agreement (more commonly known as the sunk cost fallacy) is primarily used in economics, but slots perfectly into place with the mental and physical drain of a painful, struggling relationship that flies using only one insidious fuel: Commitment.

Human beings can be addicting; when their favour is hard-won, it's all the sweeter when you do get it. It doesn't matter if the person you loved has categorically ignored you when you asked for their attention, belittled you and your boundaries, taken what you had until you were lacking, hurt you - If they smile at you, it's worth it. If they compliment you, suddenly, it's worth it. If they fuck you, it's worth it.

And you don't even see the tear-stained pillowcases in the wash; you don't notice your health declining, the weight you lose; you don't understand your friends telling you that the relationship is bad for you, because surely, “who I put this much care into must care too, right - right!?” All these warnings dissolve into an ambient buzz, background radiation; they become a hurt so familiar it grows unquestioned.

The song “Concorde” says it a little like this: You wouldn't even notice the relationship was killing you if it was a cancerous growth, diagnosed by a doctor. 

Human inertia dictates to keep doing what you've been doing. To keep worshiping at their altar, and, in the small gestures that are oh-so meaningful to you, be rewarded.

"Ants From Up There" showcases this short-circuit in the human mind with an arresting amount of immediacy, intimacy and nuance. It even acknowledges the most horrible part of it all: 

You do it to yourself. 

People can only walk over your boundaries if they’re violent - or - if you let them; and having trusted somebody who, at the time, you thought you had every reason to trust, can feel like your own mistake.

The muddiness of emotional truth is hard to divide apart - “Ants From Up There” doesn’t try to do so, but instead, pits one side of the relationship - the giver - entirely against himself. The album’s protagonist, Isaac (whose story, while likely autobiographical, I’ll treat as fictional so as to not analyse real people) is filled with self-loathing both over perceived personal inadequacies, chambered in a gun’s barrel pointed at himself, and a clear belief that his commitment to the other person - who’s nicknamed “Concorde” throughout the album - gives his impossible soul some kind of purpose, elevates him by virtue of his servitude of her ghastly better-ness.

When you treat a human being as better, as an object of worship, you're likely to be seen as an object in return: As useful, and disposable. The song “Good Will Hunting” examines this most closely, with a short parable of a hull breach on a starship, with “Concorde” taking the only escape-pod and filling it with things most important to her - leaving Isaac, the disposable, behind.

Isaac also believes that he, himself, is helpless - and to an extent, he becomes it, as he spends all energy he used to spare for self-care on caring for his relationship instead. In “The Place Where He Inserted The Blade”, Isaac not only fails to understand how to cook a simple meal after a recipe out of his interdependency on his partner’s approval and praise, but, on the metaphorical side, where and how he was hurt, what actually happened. 

“Good morning - Show me the place where he inserted the blade!”

Notably, he speaks of a “he”, rather than a “she”. Until the very final moments of the album, Isaac is incapable of conceiving that “Concorde” was capable of hurting him; he instead seeks the blame within.

—

Sometimes, I wonder if people on the final flight of the Concorde were sad. About the end of an era, or the end of a peace-project between several nations; the end of a commitment. In retrospect, I assume they probably weren’t - it was just a flight like any other, standard procedure. And after all, they were just passengers. Bystanders.

Maybe, the flight would have been more notable if it had ended with a crash.

Many relationships like the one portrayed in this album exist. They’re a dime-a-dozen, many people take too much, and many people give more than they can; and in some way, “Ants From Up There” seems painfully aware of this. It balances it out through this intense specificity and an emotional rawness that few - maybe no - other albums released in 2022 can match. And through being specific while simultaneously aware of the commonness of its story - interspersing more direct allusions to Isaac and “Concorde’s” relationship with abstract pieces about similarly-shaped situations between unnamed characters - it invites the listener in. It allows them to examine themselves in relation to that hurt.

There isn’t much to learn from “Ants From Up There”; it’s a tragedy. Though written in present tense, it’s been played, recorded, and pressed to physical media; it’s a done affair. Isaac’s life was forever changed by “Concorde”, and though he comes to the realisation of the magnitude of this hurt in the closing minutes of the finale “Basketball Shoes”, and purports some small manner of internal healing earlier in that song, for us, there’s nothing to do but feel for Isaac, and, in the way that his struggles mirror our own, be cleansed.

“Oh, your generous loan to me - Your crippling interest!”

Isaac screams this, tears pouring down his face, closing the album. To the last moment, even knowing his hurt, he feels he has taken from her, not that he was exploited. The name Isaac means “the one who laughs” in Hebrew; an irony like that is stronger than fiction.

If a lesson must be extrapolated for all this hurt to be worth something, I suppose it’s this:

No matter the heights of your altruistic love, no matter the depths of your self-loathing, eventually, you have to stop pouring from an empty heart, or drown in your own blood.

#Quinn talks about music #quinntrospection #Essays #essay writing #Black Country New Road

[aparticularbandit]

Of An Endless Infinity: Day Two (II)

Summary: What does it mean to be the Ultimate Hope?

Is it only hope on the big scale?  That the world is not so dark and depressing and destructive as the villain in front of you says it is?  That you can win, even when everything else says that you can’t?  That maybe it is better to live your life, even afraid, than it is to keep yourself sequestered away, alone?

Does it not also mean hope on the small scale?

Or: Makoto sacrifices himself in the hope that the other survivors might be able to help Junko. It remains to be seen whether this will actually succeed.

Chapter Rating: M for troubling imagery. Fic Rating: M for Danganronpa reasons.

Trigger Warning: Sequences of unreality re: hallucinations.

AO3

previous chapter | next chapter

Day Two (of an Endless Infinity).

“We will take that raincheck now.”

Kyoko pauses as she pours herself another cup of coffee, already debating if it would be more efficient to simply carry the entire pot with her, and glances drearily over to Junko, who stands just off to one side with her hands on her hips and an easy smile on her lips.  She blinks once.  “Junko—”

“Ah, ah, ah!”  Junko raises a finger and waves it chidingly in Kyoko’s face.  “You agreed to cook with us, most honest knight, and we intend to hold you to that agreement!”

Even on a good day, Kyoko wouldn’t want to cook breakfast.  Although it is, in her opinion, the easiest of the meals to cook – eggs aren’t hard, rice isn’t hard, toast really only involves knowing the proper setting on a toaster, sausage isn’t hard, honestly the hardest thing for a typical breakfast is bacon – most of the time she doesn’t want all of that greasy, fattening food so early in the day.  It sits like a ton of bricks in the pit of her stomach – even plain white rice – and leaves her feeling nauseous all day long.  Grapefruit is enough for her, or yogurt and granola, if she wants something slightly sweeter, none of which requires cooking.

(Add in her current level of exhaustion, and the idea of playing around with a stovetop at any capacity sounds like a horrible, horrible idea.)

“Must we?” Kyoko asks, unable to keep the weariness out of her voice.  “You truly believe that now is the best time for this?”

“We believe that there is no time like the present!” Junko exclaims, crowing with a sense of triumph.  “You would do well to listen to us.  Waiting until later would not be in your best interest.”  She leans forward, her voice softening to a hush.  “You will only be more tired later, more likely to make mistakes.  Believe me – I’m doing you a favor.”

Kyoko doesn’t believe a word of that, even though she knows precisely how true it is.  As much as she hates to admit it, Junko is likely right.  Now is, in fact, better than later.  She will not be more awake as the day goes on, no matter how much coffee she might drink.  Besides, it isn’t as though Junko said anything about eating any of the food.  “If….”  She yawns and covers her mouth with one gloved hand.  “If you insist.”

Junko smiles, but it’s a soft, fond sort of thing.  “We insist.”  She reaches out as though to take Kyoko’s free hand in her own, then hesitates and lets her hand fall.  “Come, knight.  We have a game we should like to play with our eggs.”

It would be so easy to groan here.

Instead, Kyoko guzzles the cup of coffee she’d just poured, burns the back of her throat with it, and pours yet another cup to carry with her.

~

Kyoko places the carton of eggs down on the counter, stares at the assumedly cookie cutter shapes Junko has found, and sighs.  “No.”  She doesn’t even want to know where the Monokuma-shaped cutters came from.  It doesn’t matter where they came from.  Only that they exist.

“But you said—”

“I’m here at your request,” Kyoko says, too tired to argue, “but if you ask me to create food in the shape of that monster, then—”

“Monokuma isn’t a monster.”  Junko crosses her arms.  “He’s your headmaster.”  She sighs, her gaze shifting away.  “Your absentee headmaster at this point.  But he’s still deserving of your respect.”

Kyoko rolls her eyes as she begins to crack eggs into a large glass bowl.  “Monokuma, under your control, started what the two of you considered a game, which caused the deaths of many of my schoolmates and friends.”  She doesn’t glance up.  “I believe I have free reign to call him a—”

“Stop.”

“I don’t think I—”

But Junko places a hand over Kyoko’s before she can crack another egg.  “We were meant to play a game with our eggs, knight.  That means you cannot just stir them all into this bowl.”

“Oh.”  Kyoko stares at the bowl.  She blinks twice.  What was she doing?  She blinks again.  “What—”

Junko dumps flour into the bowl, enough for a puff of it to hit Kyoko in the face.  “Here.  Stir this.”  She hands her a wooden spoon, pauses, and then giggles.  “Your face.”

Kyoko stops stirring – a methodical, comforting gesture that requires absolutely no thought – and looks up with confusion.  “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing.  You’ve just—”  Junko suppresses her laughter.  “It’s all over your face.”  Without thinking, she licks her thumb and begins to smooth Kyoko’s brows.  She hums idly as she does, and when she pulls her thumb away, it’s dotted with specks of flour.  “See?”

In a half-lucid haze, Kyoko sees Junko plop her thumb in her mouth.  Her eyes widen.  “Don’t—”

“Don’t what?”  Junko furrows her brow, and as soon as Kyoko blinks, it’s evident that she still holds her thumb out, that it’s still spotted with bits of pasty white.  “Did I do something?”

Kyoko blinks.  Shakes her head.  “No.”

Junko grins.  “What did I do?” she asks.  Then she leans forward.  “What did you do?”

“I—”  Kyoko stares, unsure of what to say.  “Nothing, I—”

~

“Kyoko?”

Hina waves one hand in front of her face, and slowly – slowly – Kyoko focuses on it, this hand out of nowhere suddenly dead center in front of her, attached to someone who was certainly not anywhere near a few moments ago.

“Are you okay?”

Kyoko tries not to look shocked as she scans the room around her, trying to see everything without moving or giving away that that’s precisely what she’s doing.  Still in the kitchen, which is a relief, albeit a small one.  But, as opposed to what she might have been given to believe, she hasn’t moved from the coffee pot.  Worse still, she has somehow found a wooden spoon and is stirring what looks to be an egg into her coffee.  She blinks twice.  “Yes,” she lies, lifting the pot in a half toast.  “I always take my coffee this way.”

“Liar.”  Junko snatches the pot from Kyoko just before it reaches her lips.  “You never waste your expensive dung coffee by throwing an egg in it.”  She takes a sip of the coffee, grimaces, and then passes it over to Hina.  “Take care of this, would you?”

Hina’s eyes widen.  “Why me?”

“Because if your little friend Togami sees this, he will literally kill us for it.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Hina says in disbelief.  “He likes us better than coffee.”

Junko meets Hina’s eyes.  “Really?  Us?”  She raises one brow.  “Really?”

Hina’s gaze drops, and her face falls.  “You…you’ve got a point.”  She takes the coffee pot, sniffs at it, and then grimaces.  “How do you even drink this stuff?”

Kyoko shoots her a look.  “It’s good.”

“It’s shit.”  Junko pats her shoulder comfortingly.  “Whoever told you this was good was trying to sell you something.”  She snorts.  “Dung coffee.”  As Hina moves to toss it out, she leans closer to Kyoko and whispers in her ear, “I told you.  Terrible things will happen.”

Kyoko flinches.  Junko’s breath curls hot against her ear, and the strong scent of blue raspberries this early in the morning makes her stomach curl.  “I’m fine,” she lies, moving away from Junko.  “I will be fine.”  She pulls out more coffee and sets it in one of the other pots.  Her teeth grit together.  “Don’t…don’t mention the raincheck again.”

Junko’s brows shoot up.  “What raincheck?”

Kyoko freezes.

“What raincheck, Kyokyo?” Junko repeats, eyes widening in what Kyoko senses is growing glee.  “Don’t tell me we had an entire conversation—”

“Stop that.”  Hina glares over at Junko from where she stands calmly washing out the other coffee pot.  “I can’t hear you, but Kyoko’s looking all weird, and that means you’re saying something that’s making her uncomfortable, and you need to stop.  I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to stop.”

“Fine.”  Junko raises her hands up in a dismissive measure and literally backs away from Kyoko.  But she meets her eyes with a firm, neutral expression.  She knows.  That’s the worst of it.  She knows now.

If this is even real.

“It’s okay,” Kyoko lies again.  “I’m okay.”  She takes her newly finished pot of coffee and drinks directly from it.  The bitterness burns her tongue.  “I just need to…to….”  Her brow furrows.  Something else is wrong.  Very wrong.  She doesn’t know what it is, but she can feel it.

It takes only a moment before she realizes that what’s wrong is the absolute silence surrounding her.

~

Kyoko stares into her coffee pot, into the dark liquid inside of it, and sees her own reflection staring back at her.  There are huge bags under her eyes, and just there, just at her neck, is a small, small nick.  A cut, left behind by Genocide Jack little more than a day ago.  She raises a hand and presses one finger against it.

When she removes her finger, a drop of blood falls into her coffee pot.

Staring at the ripples, Kyoko lifts the pot for another drink.

“Kyoko?”

She drops the pot, and it shatters at her feet.  Each shard mirrors the landscape of nothingness around her, mirrors her reflection, mirrors the shorter boy standing just behind her.  His soft green eyes seem to glow.

“Am I dying?” she asks, staring at his reflection in one of the shards, even as the other reflections in the other shards all turn to face her.  “Is that why you’re here?  To take me with you?”

Makoto laughs.

There’s something not right in that laugh.  There’s something not good in it.

Makoto laughs, and Kyoko covers her ears, and—

~

“Kyoko!”

Hina’s hands are on her arms.  She’s shaking her.  Not gently.

“Sorry.”  Kyoko steps back, out of her grasp.  “Sorry.  I need to—”

~

“See?”

Junko raises her thumb in front of Kyoko.  Her thumb is spotted with sparkling pink blood.

Kyoko steps back.  Away from her.  Away from—

~

The kitchen is empty.

There is no one else.  Just them.

Kyoko stares straight up at the ceiling.  She blinks twice.  Hina came with them for donuts.  She told her she could take a break.  Hina meant to change the guard.  Someone should be coming soon.  Someone should be—

Junko places a hand on her shoulder.  “Something wrong, Kyokyo?”

“No.”  Kyoko looks over to the coffee pot still sitting on the counter, full and normal and bloodless.  She blinks twice.  Swallows once.  “No,” she repeats, as she moves to the coffee pot, as she starts to pour herself another cup of coffee.  “I’m—”

The coffee overflows onto her glove.

Kyoko stops.  She looks down at her cup, which was already full of coffee and is now overflowing.  Her head tilts to one side.  “I’m fine,” she finishes as she sets the coffee pot back.  Just a little scatterbrained.  She lifts her glove just enough to suck the coffee from it and then gently lifts her cup to sip at it until it’s no longer in danger of overflowing again.  “Just fine.”

“Mmhm.”  Junko gives her a look of disbelief.  She raises a hand and starts ticking off fingers.  “Freaked out.”  One finger.  “Insecure.”  Another.  “Neurotic.”  A third.  “And Emotional.”  A fourth, and she gives Kyoko a half-smile.  “Absolutely, absolutely you are fine.”  She winks, grins, and then finger guns.

Kyoko just stares at her.  “I don’t understand any of what you just said.”  She closes her eyes, feels herself sway, tries to keep herself upright, and nearly falls until she feels a hand just at the small of her back, keeping her propped up.  When she opens her eyes, Junko’s standing next to her with the oddest look of concern.  “You didn’t need to do that.”

“And let our most precious knight fall?”  The concern disappears from Junko’s face, replaced with astonishment.  “We would never.”

“N-n-never what?”

Kyoko glances over her shoulder and sees Toko standing just inside of the kitchen door.  As Toko takes everything in, her eyes widen, and Kyoko realizes what Toko must think that she’s seeing.  She steps out of Junko’s steadying touch and turns to lean against the counter instead, bringing her cup of coffee to her lips.  “Good morning, Toko.”

But the formality doesn’t distract her.  Toko’s eyes narrow behind her wiry frames.  “N-n-never what?” she repeats, slightly more insistent than she was before.

Instead of answering the question, Junko skips over to Toko, wraps her in her skeletal arms, and lifts her in a squeezing hug.  “Toko Fukawa!” she says a little too loudly, loud enough to overcome the squeals of displeasure coming from Toko herself.  When she sets her back down on the ground, she gives her a huge grin.  “Are you our new friend for the day?”

Toko glances from Junko over to Kyoko and then down to her hands, her forefingers pressing together.  “I-I-I think new friend is…is a bit…a bit strong.”  She glances over to Kyoko one more time and then back down to her hands.  “M-m-more like a…like a po-po-po—”

“Like the po-po?” Junko near shrieks, her eyes wide.  She jumps back in feigned surprise.  “Don’t tell me you were part of the po-po, too, Toko!”

“N-n-n-no.”  Toko’s cheeks grow a bright red.  She scoots slightly closer to Kyoko, away from Junko.  “She’s not…she’s not always like this, is she?”

Kyoko takes another sip of her coffee and lets out a sigh.  “Unfortunately, she is.”

Toko makes a small squeaking sound, one that’s only made worse when Junko pokes her in the side.  “Don’t do that!” she exclaims, swatting at Junko’s hand at the same time as jumping even closer to Kyoko.  “Don’t touch me!”

“Oh.”  Junko’s face falls, and she begins to curl a loose strand of hair about her finger as her gaze drops.  “I thought…perhaps….”  She bites her lower lip.  “But then, I don’t know why I thought you would ever….”  Her voice trails off.

“Would….”  Toko stares at Junko’s crest-fallen face then looks at Kyoko for some sort of explanation.  When Kyoko just shrugs, she looks back to Junko.  “Would what?”

Junko presses her lips together.  “Only…only I wrote this story, and I thought…I thought maybe I could get your professional opinion on it.”  She seems to shrink in on herself.  “Since you’re the…the Ultimate Writing Prodigy and…and your autograph said we were friends, and you just—”

“I-I-I—”  Toko glances to Kyoko again, as though searching for some sort of permission, some sort of explanation, but Kyoko doesn’t have anything to say.  She’s too tired to try and play peacekeeper here.  If the others in their infinite wisdom decided that Toko was the best third person for this little party, then she would need to be able to hold her own – even against Junko.

Well.

With Junko.  Not against her.

Toko’s gaze returns to Junko.  “I suppose I-I-I could,” she stutters out with a sigh.  “Do you…do you have it with you?”

Junko pops her head up with her eyes bright and wide.  “Of course!” she exclaims.  “It’s in my—”  Her eyes shift from joy to something that seems like fear but must not be as she glances to Kyoko.  “…your…?”

“Our.”  Kyoko breathes out the correction with a tightening in her chest.  They can’t trust Junko to take one of the dorms for herself on her own, and she can’t trust Junko to take her dorm back again.  Not with that secret room connected to it.  That would only spell disaster.  She sighs.  “You can call it our.”

Junko brightens again and then turns back to Toko.  “It’s in our dorm!”

But the conversation hasn’t gone by without Toko noticing it, without Toko looking over to Kyoko with a disgusted expression, with one brow raising.  “Our?” she echoes, her voice soft.

Then Junko takes Toko’s hands in both of her own, clasping them together, and Toko lets out a little squeak again.  “You’re going to love it!” she exclaims with a grin.  “It’s a romance just like your novels!  Only the ending’s a little…different.”

As they chatter on, Kyoko closes her eyes.  Weight should be leaving her body, but it feels like it only increases.  She takes another sip of her coffee, only for something in it to taste just slightly off.  When she glances in her cup, she sees it, just the tiniest swirl of shockingly pink blood.  She stares at it, uncertain.

“Hey, Kyokyo?”

Kyoko blinks and looks up at Junko.  “Hm?”

“Everything okay?”  Junko tilts her head to one side, staring at the cup curiously.  “Something wrong with your coffee?”

It takes a second before Kyoko lies again.  “No,” she says.  “Nothing’s wrong.”  She glances at her cup again, and that sharp contrast of pink is gone.  With a singular nod, she repeats, truthfully this time, “Nothing’s wrong,” although she can’t be certain exactly how truthful that is.  Not when she keeps seeing things that aren’t there.  Not when she has trouble telling the difference between what’s really happening and what isn’t.

But she can’t tell them that.

No.

Best to keep all of that to herself.

#bandit fic #of an endless infinity with junko and kyoko #danganronpa #dr1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa thh #drthh #dr thh #thh #junko enoshima #enoshima junko #kyoko kirigiri #kirigiri kyoko #aoi asahina #asahina aoi #toko fukawa #fukawa toko #and then in terms of past ships: #enogiri #junkan #matsushima #unreality tw #tw unreality #hallucinations tw #tw hallucinations

[pre1ude]

@chivalrites , 👫 for four headcanons about our muses' relationship

dan is only vaguely familiar with jeff before the party and has a fairly decent impression of him; that is to say, of the four horsemen of hellfire, he yells in public spaces the least, so dan likes him best. finding the guy having a moment on the bench outside solidifies a sort of quiet solidarity. he doesn't see the point in sharing this at the time, but he gets it. It, capital I. since jeff is sweet, and sweeter yet for the message he leaves post-factum, he gets rewarded with a superpowered blond quietly imprinting on him without notice. any bully of his within danny's line of sight is henceforth met with a sudden-onset headache or temporary hearing loss. or ringing ears for the whole day, it all depends on how bad a foot they put forward. the only downside is... it definitely doesn't help with the satanic rumours.

dan makes good on that invitation he gets over the phone, brings his violin for a 'jam session' and then ends up not playing it. he's confident in his skills and excited to play with someone he hasn't been partnered with by a sour music instructor, don't get him wrong, it's just that standing upright in the middle of jeff's room and playing something like mozart for a man who wears leather jackets sounds like the most awkward, self-immolating thing he could ever do, so he offers at least five excuses not to do it. it's only a little uncomfortable and he ends up actually playing Dance of the Knights by Prokofiev (the piece that Star Wars' Imperial March theme is based off of) for Jeff later on, but that night in particular remains free of classical. he does walk away from it enraptured by the idea of learning guitar, freshly introduced to black sabbath and its entire history (bat decapitation included) and keen on inviting Jeff round to his house (awful, sterile slab of spotless white plaster though it may be in comparison to this cosy place) for a night of abysmal horror flicks.

daniel becomes quickly and surprisingly comfortable around jeff, to a degree that surprises even him. they're so close to the exact same level of 'odd' (and i use that word loosely) that they end up cancelling each other out. dan has a vast and only slightly ridiculous interest in mythos and historical witchcraft (fancies himself a wizard), morbid victorian era practices and various schools of philosophy (the man is all-curious), all of which he's shared with no one until jeff normalizes infodumping to such a lovely degree that he joins in. grows comfortable enough to randomly sprinkle a metal as hell historical fact here and there, maybe even stretch the dough a little and go on a rant about humanism. in return, he listens with rapt fascination at jeff whenever he talks about music, movies and pop culture, eager to learn about things he didn't have the chance to experience in his own time. also,, i just have a soft spot for danny getting introduced to Stuff. explain Things to him, he wants to Know. he wants to have The Scoop. he feels so absolutely cheated out of star trek and metal.

and because i like parallels: jeff finds dan having a very quiet and inconspicuous panic attack a day after the chrissy's death. everything hits a little late, but it hits hard; it's that silent, numb and out of it sort that leaves him feeling away from himself for half an hour, and gripped with the most debilitating, drowning sense of doom for two more after that. it's both the most and least emotion he's shown in front of jeff at one time but he doesn't have the wherewithal to be mortified about it, so maybe that makes it easier to commiserate. between nonsensical admissions to feeling horribly guilty and lost, he ends up sharing a bit too much and accidentally clues jeff in about things he shouldn't.

+ 1

there's a janky old classroom nextdoor to hellfire's campaign room. it used to host music class some years ago, but has since been abandoned and daniel gets relegated to it when he asks for a nice, quiet place to practice his music (5 mandated hours per day). so they find themselves neighbours with occasionally overlapping schedules for a time, much to everyone's initial chagrin. they're both their own manner of loud and disruptive but they make do. once in a while, one of daniel's cadenzas will line up perfectly with the campaign's atmosphere and produce pure magic. mostly, he tries not to impose on their fun and does his best not to listen in. not because he isn't interested, but because the contrast hurts a little bit. he always uses the music room alone.

#➻ 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 —《answered.》 #chivalrites. #i had so much fun writing these can you tell #physically could not keep it short #my apologies

[surohsopsisofclouds]

I love just like. Seeing how as time passes we see more and more people using hey/hem/heir pronouns, aka the one's that Moon made. Like so far we've only seen it used by people that know us, or at least know us as a friend of a friend, but like, just seeing something so personal to one of us click with even just one other person is so?? Amazing??? And unexpected????

If we told our younger self from even just a year ago about any of the crazy stuff that happens just. Casually. To us now I'm not sure that they'd even believe us ahsvsvsh

Anywaves this was just me being surprised but happy.

#suroh rambles #I still remember how like. I think it was really late 2019? #like the last fews months of it or so #we had literally zero (0) online friends and only like 4 irl friends #and we were in a really bad spot #and then tumblr came out with these new chatroom things. and we were at such a low point that we said ''fuck it'' #and shoved our wariness aside (well kind of. a little.) and just joined a few for the fandom we were in at the time #and we just shoved our worst ideas in there occasionally. constantly ready to run away at any moment. but?? they liked us??? #and they liked our horrible ideas and our sweeter ones too and they liked *us* and they don't know this #but one of them was the first to call us by our name. by suroh. and they forgot the h but it made our heart feel so warm all of a sudden #and then they invited us to a discord channel and we took another wary leap of faith and downloaded the app #and then we met one of our best and closest friends by saying one of the first things that came to mind because we've always shown our worst #first so we know to run away from the get go instead of getting our hopes up #(the thing was ''milky salsa'' btw and we still occasionally giggle about to this day) #and they invited us to their discord server just so we could share it with the people there #and then we met our other two closest friends (and honestly we still think of the icons they had way back then first when we think of them) #(and we know what they look like now) #and we made gifts for the people in that tumblr chatroom and our new almost-friends in that discord server for valentines day #because we've always loved far too much far too soon and couldn't help but want to show it; even if it scared us a lot. #and they complimented us and told us how much they liked us /p and we'd never heard that spoken to usso much in so little time that we just #fell into a mess of blushing red. and we realized then that there was *hope* and it scared us so bad because we knew we'd fallen hopelessly #we were so scared of things going wrong because we always seem to be the reason that people hate us. #and honestly if I could go back in time I'd just want to hug ourself from back then and reassure them that'd all be fine #that it'd turn out more than fine #cause kit? you weren't the reason people hated you. we still feel like that some times but you really aren't. #honestly I think you being you is how so many people have fallen for us /p #and how we've allowed ourself to fall for them in return (/p again) #anywaves this was me being *incredibly* sappy and no you don't get to know who wrote this #suroh loves heir friends a lot #damn this jumped topics but also really didn't

[sugawara-sweetheart]

𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔟

❥summary: what started off as sweet, innocent teenage love turned into a dark trap

❥warnings: tw physical abuse, tw emotional abuse, tw possessiveness, tw noncon (implied), abusive relationships, some mention of blood, cheating, suicide ideation 

❥word count: 4.9k

thank you @obscureamor for helping me with a lot of the ideas for this fic, you’re my fave degen to lewd w ily <33

the first time daichi told you he loved you you were both sixteen. innocent, sheepish, naive but flattered as you stood under those spring cherry blossom trees, a breeze billowing, the sky a clear cerulean and pink petals showering down, clinging to your hair. he told you you looked beautiful, kissing the back of your hand and holding it with gentle fingers and the single rose he handed to you smelled so sweet. you didn’t care if the thorns pricked your fingers till you bled.

he still tells you he loves you. you just don’t know if he means it.

you’re not sure when it started to sour. maybe it was when daichi’s soft eyes became hard and his soft voice became deep, low growls instead. he was still kind and loving- but it was rather when he wanted to be. when you were being the perfect girlfriend, not the slutty whore that spoke too much to asahi and laughed at sugawara’s jokes, not the bitch wearing a short skirt and a tight top for every animalistic man on the streets to see- after all, did you want their attention or daichi’s? his fits of anger and snarls were unpredictable but time taught you lessons- answer his phone calls and messages straight away, let him choose what he wants to see you in, tell him who you’re going out and where and you dare make friends with people he disapproves of? it’s like you don’t even care about him! can’t you see it’s for your own good?

but daichi still loved you. each piercing scratch from his sharp words were always soothed with a contrasting kindness, care.

“i just want what’s best for you. don’t you trust me, don’t you trust your boyfriend?”

seeing the softness in his eyes, the hurt in his voice, you couldn’t help your heart wrenching with guilt. of course you shouldn’t have complimented asahi on his spike and you shouldn’t have let sugawara hug you and you shouldn’t have gone away for that weekend camping trip with your family without telling daichi- of course he’d panic when you returned his insistent calls hours later. you just should’ve been a good girlfriend, just like he wanted.

it never occurred to you that maybe daichi’s grips on your arm were too bruising, his words too venomous, his narrowed eyes too malicious till it’s too late.

when you’re holding that cursed stick in your trembling hands, those two pink lines blurring with the hot tears in your eyes stinging, daichi holds you. he holds you as you shake with each heavy sob, his lips pressed against your temple.

“it’s okay, y/n, it’s okay.” he whispers soothingly but you still can’t quell your rising panic, the horrible dread heavy in the pits of your stomach.

“it’s not okay!” you sob, shoving the pregnancy test stick to daichi to bury your tear-stained face in your hands. “we’re still at college, how can we have a baby?! it’s not the right time!” there’s words you don’t choke out. words that you know would reduce him to a screaming mess. maybe he’d throw around some of your belongings like the last time, maybe he’d even back you into a wall, trapping you with his taller, broader body.

“we’ve got this.” he says calmly, a gentle smile on his face as he rubs your back. “you can quit college till the baby’s older and by that time i’ll be a cop so i can support us. it’ll work out.” he kisses away your tears as he pulls you into his lap. “don’t cry, this will all work out. it’s our perfect family, a little earlier than we expected but just as good.” it sounds too well-planned. you don’t reciprocate when he presses his lips against yours, sighing slightly. “i love you.” you don’t say it back. you’re drained, your bloodshot eyes feeling heavy as you rest your head against his chest, cursing that thing inside you- his child- that has condemned you to a life tied to him. what a shame. maybe if you were smarter you’d have realised that since daichi started going to the pharmacy for you, those small ivory pills were a slightly yellower shade and sweeter than usual.

four years had passed. things only got worse.

you wake up to a prison. you’re bounded by the gold band on your left hand and the small child who you wake up with loving kisses, trying not to see your husband in those identical round brown eyes and short brunette hair. you’re locked in daichi’s grip every day of your life from the moment you wake up with his strong arm wrapped around your waist, pinning you down in his grip even when he sleeps.

it’s suffocating to live in a world of just daichi and your son. friends and family faded into a faraway dream. but it turns out he was right along.

“your friends are a bad influence.” he used tell you, pulling you to sit beside him on the couch with your infant son cradled in your arms. he kisses your cheek, a soft gesture that contrasts with the iron grip he has on your arm. “what sort of mother would you be to our son if you’re always out with your friends instead of being home with us?” you look down at the little baby, his soft, chubby, rosy cheeks, his round chin, his button nose, the brown tufts of hair. you hate the initial bitterness that consumes you like poisonous vines when you stare down at your son- daichi’s son- his warmth feeling icy cold in your arms before you push it away, daichi’s words ringing in your head. you have to be a good mother. you have to be a good mother.

eventually your friends stop leaving missed calls and unanswered messages.

the first time you’re lying on the floor, a crumpled, sobbing heap you threaten to leave. your face is numb, your vision blurred with hot tears as nothing but pain sears in the tender skin. you can barely breathe, hysterical with choked sobs rising in your tight throat and your body shivering as daichi towers over you. you scramble away when he crouches down to your cowering body, his face stoic.

“try it.” he says calmly, his cold eyes flickering down to your growing baby bump. “you’ve already disgraced your family by getting pregnant during college, do you really think they’ll ever look at you the same?” your blood runs cold as his fingers press on your chin, his touch oddly gentle compared to the bone-crunching punch he gave you moments ago. “they don’t care about you, y/n. not like i do.”

“b-but you hurt me.” daichi grimaces, his hand gently stroking the sore, reddened skin that he caused.

“i didn’t mean to. it was an accident, you know i love you.” his thumb wipes away your wet tears. “i’m sorry, let’s start over. you can’t leave me, we’re having a baby together- don’t take our son away from his dad. don’t let me be all alone.” his other hand tenderly presses on the swell of your stomach, stroking his child. “y/n?” your eyes flutter shut, taking a deep breath to calm your pounding heart as you try to relax into his touch.

“it won’t happen again?”

“never. i’m sorry.” you nod, trying not to let those stinging tears fall anymore as he kisses your pounding head.

but it happens again. and again. and again.

sometimes you lie awake at night after daichi’s fucked you. your throat pulsates with the forming bruises, a deep ache settling between your legs and every inch of your skin feeling tainted from the way your husband has fucked you so roughly, using you for his sole pleasure like a doll with the way he had your sobbing face pressed into the mattress, the grip on your hair burning. he sleeps soundly beside you now, that possessive arm still wrapped around your waist.

maybe you could leave.

bright fantasy burns in the back of your eyelids. a life where you’re happy, free to have friends and family, free to leave the house without the creeping paranoia of his eyes watching you. a life where you don’t have your phone checked every night, anxiety creeping in you just in case there’s a number in there that isn’t his. a life where you don’t flinch every time he reaches out to touch you, sometimes with a slap, sometimes with tender touch.

but you need money. and you’ve never worked a day in your life- the idea of a job is as much of a fantasy to you as freedom is. the cash you get is from daichi’s wallet but there’s not much to spend on: you only go out with him and your child and he’s the one to swipe his card for the bill and he takes you grocery shopping after you took too long the first few times, resulting in him interrogating you, hands pushing you up against the wall as your toddler wailed in the doorway. you don’t even buy makeup, pretty clothes, shoes or handbags because what if daichi doesn’t like them? what if he asks you why you want to dress like that, is there someone else’s attention you’re vying for?

you remember one of the times you brought up a job. it was at breakfast, your child had just turned two and was sat in his high-chair, babbling as you tried to feed him his porridge. daichi was sat opposite, sipping his coffee as he scrolled through his phone.

“hey, daichi.” he hums at you, glancing up briefly as you lower the bowl of porridge, nervously mixing the lumpy mixture around. “you know how he's older now? i was thinking, i have more time and…” your throat goes dry as he looks up at you, a small crease deepening between his brows. “well, i could do with a job. it’d be good for us to have some extra money a-and it’ll be a nice thing for me to do so i’m not stuck in the house bored all day.” you’re not sure what daichi’s thinking, his eyes trained on you as your son coos to himself.

“what’s wrong with me and our son that you want to leave this house so much?” his voice is ice cold. it makes your heart sink, the spoon clattering against the bowl from your trembling hands.

“n-nothing, i-i didn’t mean it like that.” his jaw clenches, the vein in his temple throbbing and you hate yourself for bringing it up. stupid. pathetic. stupid. what were you thinking?

“i provide for this family, okay? your only job is to be a good housewife and a good mum. do you understand?” you’re silent for a second too long and pain sears in you as he grips your jaw, yanking you forward roughly with his fingers pressing in so hard, his brutal strength excruciating. “i said, do you understand?”

“yes!” it’s a meek whimper with the hot tears that fill your ears. but daichi doesn’t look at all sympathetic or sorry as he pushes you back forcefully. the bowl falls from your hands, smashing over the tiles, the shards jagged and ugly. the loud crack startles your son, making him cry loudly. daichi lifts him out of the high chair before you can, cooing gently and kissing his chubby cheeks but his face becomes a cold, unforgiving glare as he looks down at you.

“clean up the mess.”

you never bring up the topic ever again.

your son beginning preschool is a gift. for the first time in years, there’s a lightness in your chest to be able to leave the house, holding your son’s small hands as you walk him to school. it’s liberating, feeling the breeze ripple through your hair, the sweet fragrance of flowers and pollen hanging in the air, the bustle of passing cars without the shadow of daichi looming. it’s an excuse to leave the house, to walk through longer streets and go into shops and buy the fruits you want with the money you pretend is yours and to be able to smile and speak to the shopkeeper yourself. for the first time in over ten years you feel some facade of independence. you almost feel free, like daichi isn’t your husband and you don’t have his son weighing you down, when you return to your empty home and get hours of being able to watch television and do your makeup and wear those beautiful clothes stuffed at the back of the wardrobe you thought you’d never be able to wear again. it’s empowering to catch people’s eyes for the first time in so long, to have other parents approach you with bright smiles. daichi was wrong, you think when you’re laughing with your new mum and dad friends. he’s wrong when you call your mother for the first time in years and she cries when she hears your voice, begging you to come home. other people can love you! he isn’t the only person you have.

you still scrub off the makeup and push your clothes to the back of the wardrobe every evening before daichi’s car pulls up in the driveway.

when you meet your son’s teacher, the darkness in your world fades. it’s like looking into the past, back at a time when life was brighter, when daichi wasn’t...daichi.

  sugawara embraces you in a warm, gentle hug the day your son tugs you into his classroom after school. he’s grinning so wide, his hazel eyes crinkled and his grey hair still messy, his soft scent of lavender and soap still the same from all those years ago.

“it’s so good to see you, it’s been years!” he laughs, eyes taking in all of your features, scrutinising the way time has changed you.

“i don’t think i’ve seen you since the wedding.” you smile, tilting your head to admire how well sugawara had grown since you last saw him just almost seven years ago. he’s still as handsome, still smiling so vibrantly.

“i know, has daichi been keeping you locked up or something?” it’s a light-hearted chuckle but your stomach still jolts. “every time he comes out with us, he never brings you. even kiyoko said she hasn’t seen you for ages.” you force a smile, glancing away from his narrowed eyes to glance at your son waiting patiently by the doorway, his wide eyes watching with intrigue.

“someone has to stay home and look after that one.” sugawara laughs.

“he looks exactly like daichi, doesn’t he? as soon as i saw the surname and his face, i just knew he was yours.”

he opens his mouth to speak further but he’s cut off by the buzzing of your phone. you hope sugawara doesn’t notice how your hand trembles or how you blanch at seeing daichi’s name flash across the screen. he wasn’t home early, was he? would he be waiting at the front door waiting for you to walk in...in your tight dress, makeup plastered on your face and late? what would he do to you?

“i’m sorry. i have to go, i’ll see you tomorrow, sugawara.” he nods, opening up his arms in a hug which immediately you melt into, clinging to his warmth and breathing in his warm scent that just seems to make your thumping heart and churning stomach slow down, lulling you into serenity and safety. you hope he doesn’t realise you’re clinging to him for too long, hating how it hurts to pull away.

on the way home, your son asks you how you know sugawara sensei and you smile, admiring the pink blossom that flutters through the air as you tell him your stories of high school. as you approach your front door, the heavy weight in your stomach dissipates when you see daichi’s car isn’t parked out front.

“listen,” you tell your son. “don’t tell daddy your teacher is sugawara sensei. it’ll be a surprise for him.” you force a shaky smile and the innocent little boy nods, his eyes wide. he doesn’t question it.

your days become brighter. long conversations with a number saved as ‘pizza shop’ during the middle of the day when you know your son spends his lunchtimes on a playground and you’re at home, giggling and laughing away on the phone. sometimes they grow lustful and your hand sneaks between your legs, gasping and seeing white so much harder than you do with your own husband. it’s not fun not being able to see sugawara as much as you wish with daichi keeping you shackled but it only makes the moments you see him so much better. you enjoy the days daichi works later hours because then you have enough time to go into sugawara’s classroom once all the students have gone home. sometimes he lets your son sit in the reading nook in the corner of the classroom whilst the two of you sit by his desk, laughing as you feel the safety to open yourself up to him. he’s just kind. sweet and caring and his jokes always make you laugh so hard. there’s no anxiety, no tension, your body never feels the need to flinch at any of his sudden movements and you aren’t scared of saying the wrong things, doing the wrong things. other times he’ll take you and your son out to cute diners and ice cream shops where everything feels bright, natural and just happy.

all the darkness daichi keeps you in fades away with the light sugawara brings.

that’s until you mess up.

you’re trembling when you see daichi’s car in the driveway. nothing but utter fear consumes you, tears stinging your eyes with fear and feeling like you’re going to be fucking sick as your son tugs you closer down the garden path to the front door.

“come on, mummy!” he cries. he’s so innocent, he doesn’t understand the fright or why your hands shake so much you can’t even force the key into the lock. but you don’t need to. the door opens and daichi stands in the doorway. in all the years you’ve spent looking into his eyes, they’ve never looked so dark. so empty.

“daddy, you’re home early!” your son exclaims as he skips into the house, his eyes sparkling extra bright. you don’t want to meet daichi’s eyes as you watch his narrowed orbs follow the little boy. there’s sticky ice cream stains clinging to his chin and the shirt of his uniform. he doesn’t say anything, turning to you as he gestures with his head and holds the door open.

“aren’t you going to come in?”

it’s like walking to your own death.

you can’t help the involuntary flinch when he closes the door behind you, your body shaking uncontrollably as the door snaps shut. the lock clicks, the bolt sliding as he does the chain. a prison.

“why don’t you go to your room?” daichi says, brushing past you as he approaches his son and ruffles his hair. “daddy’s bought you a new toy car.”

“a police one?” the little boy gasps, his eyes widening and sparkling with adoration for his father. his father that traps you in his web of death like an evil, deathly spider. daichi smiles.

“yeah, a police car because you want to be like daddy when you’re older, right?” the boy nods and runs up the stairs, not even looking back to you sinking in on yourself. daichi’s looking up the stairs till the bedroom door snaps shut.

“please-” you don’t even get a chance to speak. you gasp, stumbling and blinking hard as tears fill your eyes, gasping as nothing but utter pain sears through your cheek. it’s warm and tender to touch, the force of daichi’s hand enough to send blood pounding in your ears, your skin throbbing. “daichi-” he does it again, a cry of anguish escaping you as his hand meets the sore skin of your cheek again. and again.

you sob as you crumple on the floor, tears and snot dribbling down your face and ruining the makeup you prepared so beautifully that day. sugawara told you you looked beautiful. happy. not anymore.

“p-please, daichi- i-i’m begging you!” your hand trembles and your body flinches as you try to shield yourself from daichi’s raised one but he pushes it away, like a feeble nothing. his eyes are fiery blackness, teeth gritted together and his cheeks flushed with the redness of his anger.

“what the fuck is this?” he hisses, harsh fingers slapping at the exposed thigh of your short dress and shoving against the shoulders of your low neckline. “what sort of whore do you think you’re dressing like? who are you dressing like this for?” you’re choking on sobs as you try to force out the words, your trembling hands trying to cling to daichi’s but he’s strong and harsher, smacking them away with stinging pain.

“n-no one- daichi, please!”

he laughs at you, mirthless and cruel as he grabs you by your hair, the pain burning in your scalp as you try to prise his hands off you, wailing out for help as he drags you into the living room.

“stop crying.” he hisses as he shoves you against the hard floor. he stands in the doorway, his eyes wide and gleaming as you scramble away from him, begging for mercy yet crying for help. “no one can help you.”

“i-i’ll tell the police.” it’s an empty threat and daichi’s harsh laugh echoes in the room, leaving you trembling as your back hits the wall. adrenaline is pumping through you, your mind screaming that you need to get out! he approaches closer, smiling calmly even though his hands are curled into fists.

“we live in the countryside, y/n. the police are my colleagues- who do you think they’d believe, a respectable officer of the law or some dumb housewife who’s been cheating on her dutiful husband with her son’s teacher?”

your heart stops. he knows. that’s murder and malice in his face and your body feels cold with every shiver. you need to get out.

it’s a flash of bravery when you get to your feet and run, your heart pounding in your chest but daichi’s too quick. too strong. he easily overpowers you, arms locking around your waist as he pushes you to the hardwood floor, your back smacking against the panels and leaving you immobilised with horrible pain wracking through your bones.

“did you not think i’d find out?” he hisses. you don’t even register his knuckles smashing against your face till pain spasms through it, your eyes tearing up and hot blood trickles from your throbbing nose, leaking into your mouth as you sob. the metallic taste makes you sick. “imagine how embarrassing it was for me to have one of the rookies come up to me and tell me they’d seen you getting all cosy with my old friend. in front of my own son.” he grips you by the scruff of your clothes only to slam you down onto the floor. every nerve in your body is alight with pain but it’s not over yet.

“you don’t realise you’re my wife. i’m not letting you leave me, i can’t be alone.” his eyes look dead. “i own you.”

he drills it into you. fucking you dry and tearing apart your walls, every thrust leaving you with nothing but pain and the possessive grip on your throat harsh and the slaps on your cheeks relentless. you can only cry that you’re sorry, beg for him to stop, beg for mercy but daichi doesn’t stop still you’re a broken mess on the floor, bruised legs spread and your wrecked cunt leaking his cum.

daichi’s eyes are softer but his face still cold and emotionless as he tucks himself into his pants, staring down at you lying pathetically on the floor.

“you need to clean yourself up.” he says, voice calmer as he pats your knee. “i’ll order a pizza for dinner.” he says it casually as he walks out of the door, snapping the door shut behind him.

you don’t see daylight again. all hours of the day are spent cooped in the house, staring at the same walls. you don’t even get to take your son to school anymore, the task being completed by daichi now and it always make you shiver when he comes home angrier after seeing the face of his former best friend- your former lover. you don’t know what he said to sugawara but the grey-haired man that was your only source of solace doesn’t show in your empty, darkened days again. it hurts, to think of how much happiness he brought to you, how heavy he made your heart beat and your world warm and now he’s nothing, just a distant memory.

does he not care? did he even ever love you? or were you just nothing to him?

the questions swirl in your mind every day spent in the same way: doing the laundry, cooking a hot meal for daichi, cleaning up every room in the house and trying not to cry when you dust photo frames of your quick, shotgun wedding- the legal trap daichi ensnared you in- and when you tidy away your son’s clothes, resisting the urge to destroy his bedroom because that small, innocent child, a mixture of your and daichi’s bloods, was the emotional trap that binds you to your captor for life. the same son that can’t even look at you now that daichi has left you ugly and bruised, the skin of your cheek welted and your nose and eyes purpled.

“do you see i’m the only one for you? you're mine- you belong to me- i love you.” daichi grunts the same words in your ear every night he fucks you. it’s always for him, his hips snapping into yours as he uses you for his own pleasure, one hand always locked around your throat, reminding that you’re stuck here, you’re going nowhere. it makes you feel dirty, tainted as he ruts into you but he’s all you have. sugawara isn’t here, your son is too young, family and friends long faded when daichi handed you the scissors to sever your ties all those years ago. all you can do is be silent and agree, doing whatever he wants you to because you’re worried one day he won’t be punching his fist into a wall- it could be your head.

you’re thankful for the day daichi forgets to lock the front door after dropping your son off to school and leaving for work. you're almost scared to pull it open, worried he’ll be standing by the gates but his car is gone. he isn’t there and the sky looks so blue despite the thick clouds, the smell of crisp, fresh air so relaxing to inhale.

it’s a chance to run.

your stomach churns with anxiety as you sit in the police station, staring at the uniformed officers who pass you by. each brunette one makes your heart jump and your body jolt before their face turns and you can breathe again because it isn’t him, it isn’t daichi and you’re still close to safety, you’re almost there to finally being free after so many countless days of just trying to survive. you can finally sleep safe without your body aching and your mind craving any source of freedom- your family, sugawara, even death would surely be better than this. maybe now once you’re free you could look at your son and see him without seeing daichi in his eyes, see him as your innocent child and not the one who chained you to your husband.

you don’t notice the narrowed eyes of the old officer at the desk.

that’s until you notice the familiar figure walking in through the doors, his brow deeply furrowed and his clenched fists hidden in his pockets.

“w-wait- what’s going on?” you’re begging, standing up as you turn to the officer who sighs as he scratches his head. he ignores you, looking straight at daichi.

“i thought it’d be best for you both to sort out.” is all he lazily says as daichi nods his head respectfully, thanking the man. but his eyes are trained on you.

“please- don’t let him take me!” you sob but daichi just sighs and the officer looks uncomfortable like he’s caught up in just a simple case of a husband and wife arguing. if only it was that simple.

“y/n, stop causing such a fuss.” daichi says, his voice gentle but you know the sharpness it can hold. his dark eyes are a warning. you can’t fight anymore. you can’t resist anymore. you already tried it and it was futile.

you’re going to die. you think it when daichi’s hand grips your arm, tighter and more bruising than it needs to be as he walks you to his car.

you’re going to die. you think it as your head knocks repeatedly against the window, your teary eyes just staring out at the empty, quiet hills that surround you as daichi fucks you. the glass of the car window is cold against the fresh welts on your cheek but each thrust is hard, forceful, punishing.

“you’re nothing.”

“i own you.”

“you’re going to regret ever thinking you can leave me.”

you’re going to die.

#tw.emotional abuse #tw.abuse #tw.noncon #tw.domestic abuse #tw.babytrapping #tw.pregnancy #darkconfectionery #Yandere haikyuu #yandere daichi #yandere!daichi #Yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere daichi x reader #yandere haikyuu imagines #yandere daichi imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #daichi fic #daichi imagines #daichi x reader

[jamilelucato]

About him [Fred Weasley]

Pairing: Fred Weasleyx reader (Slytherin but brief mention)

Summary: [y/n] and Fred have always been friends because of their similarities, but after focusing on their differences they ended up missing each other a lot.

A/N: really slow burn except for the fact that I speed it up lol (gif is very much the ice cream shop scene)

Warnings: brief mention of p*rn but it's just for a joke really; and sadness at the very end, much much sadness

harry potter masterlist!

[y/n] and Fred Weasley were classmates, and, even though they were from different houses (she was a Slytherin, he was a Gryffindor), they generally ended up in the same circles because they had a lot of friends and common and were purebloods.

They had lots of things in common, but they never really thought much of it or talked about it. Their pureblood families were seen with wicked eyes by the others because they were friendly towards muggles and muggles-borns, and curiously [y/n]'s mother worked in the same department as Fred's dad.

Fred silently understood [y/n], and she sympathized with him as well. But that was as far as their friendship went. They joked with each other and worked well together when assigned — except they were never alone or were clingy towards one another.

Therefore, it was no surprise (nor new) that Fred sat next to her, at the almost end of a party at Ravenclaw. Both had a drink in hand and were laughing at their friends' jokes. Suddenly, the big group divided itself into pairs that were talking together, and [y/n] saw herself in a position to make conversation with Fred.

"Where's George?" she politely asked him while sipping her cup.

He looked down at her — even sitting, it was clear he was taller.

"Honestly," his eyes were smiling, "I have no idea."

She half-smiled, half laughed, which was her usual reaction when speaking to Fred. He had a humorous way of expressing himself even when it was not funny.

"Aren't you worried?"

"With George? No," Fred chocked; with a raised brow. "He'll manage. Wherever he is."

"Probably with a girl," [y/n] said with a calm tone that surprised Fred.

He knew he and his twin had a reputation (perhaps even Dumbledore did), but he didn't expect little miss [y/n] to mention that with such naturality. He didn't know why it bothered him; was it because he hoped to preserve his image of a good boy or because it was her?

"Wait, what about you?" she asked, realizing he didn't say anything about George. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Ex-girlfriend," corrected Fred in a huff. "We broke up last week."

[y/n] took a long while to stare at him, analyzing his features — the more she looked, the more concerned Fred got.

She didn't know about the news regarding Fred and Angelina, but she was nowhere near worried.

"Well, by the end of next week, you two will be together again," she shrugged, looking back at her drink.

"Not at all," Fred denied, moving his face.

"Come on, Fred," [y/n] lowered her hands, "you guys never last too much apart; at this point, it's almost annoying."

He stared at her, more shocked than before.

"You guys are always breaking up," she pointed out, this time with a sweeter tone, scared she was offending him.

"True," granted Fred, "but this time is for real."

"You said that last time," remembered [y/n], unable to hold her smile at the end of her sentence and making Fred smile too.

There was a pause before Fred decided to defend his point.

"I don't..." he swallowed. "Angie and I... we both know the relationship isn't going anywhere."

"Wow," [y/n] was surprised. They always talked about Fred's break-ups but never before had he said something like that. "You're serious."

Fred ignored her comment.

"George and I want to do something big, you know? And I need to be real about it, so might as well be serious about everything else."

[y/n] considered his comment. She knew it was his dream to open the joke shop. She also knew his parents were not very okay with that.

Another thing they had in common, she supposed. Her parents didn't support her dream of being an actress either. They were okay with her pursuing a career in the muggle world, but they did not want it to be acting.

"It's a good plan, you know, " she said, finally. "Just... don't lose your charm."

"Don't lose my charm, you say?" Fred smirked, getting closer to her, their legs touching each other in the small blue sofa of Ravenclaw.

"Not that charm," she said through her teeth, shoving him with her shoulder. But even when she hated him using his smirk with her, she ended up smiling. "I meant your drollery."

"Oh," he leaned back, the smirk fading. "I suppose that if Snape wasn't able to erase my joy, nothing can."

He was right, of course.

"And you, huh?" Fred asked, noticing that if he remained in silence, the conversation would die. "How's the porn acting career going?"

She pushed him again with her free hand this time, and he laughed it off. She was sure it hurt, though, because he remained to brush up and down his arm.

"I don't want to be a porn star, you creep," [y/n] hissed, but she wasn't that angry with his comment as she was leading him into thinking. "And I suppose it's going as slow as it can go when you are only sixteen and lives in your school."

"And have unsupporting parents," added Fred, tilting his head, feeling very clever with his suggestion. Until he looked at her and saw she was frozen. "Sorry, I didn't m...."

"You're right," she sighed, gulping her drink until she drank it all. Then, startling Fred, she started laughing, but it was nowhere near a desperate laugh as he expected. "Gosh, I just want to be over with school."

"Shocking enough, me too," agreed Fred, entering her cheerful mood with a smile of himself.

Two Years Later...

She avoided going to the Diagon Alley for various reasons, but the most important was to dodge encountering old classmates. But the Wizarding World was at the brink of war, and [y/n]'s mom insisted that her daughter should go out and buy everything they could need in case they had to go into hiding.

After hours of shopping, she left her parents at one of the stores and walked all by herself to the ice cream place, where she hoped to have a minute to sit down and breathe.

She was contemplating the busy streets, filled with workers and other wizards, all with the same desperate look her mom had on her face. She had noticed when Fred and George walked in the shop, but she hoped her well-placed table would be enough to hide her.

It wasn't.

"Oh, [y/n]!" shouted Fred, after taking the ice cream he chose with the attendant. He stepped in her direction, the expression in his face pure joy.

They had bumped into each other after school, but they always had other places to go and be, which left them with a chance only to say hi. But, seeing her, calmly, sitting with her ice cream, Fred thought it was the perfect chance to catch up with his long time friend.

"How are you?" he asked, smiling.

Noticing she had no escape, she pointed to the remaining empty chair at her table for him to sit and finally answered.

"Oh, you know," she shrugged. "Every day's crazier than the one before, and we never know how tomorrow is gonna be, so..." she dredged. "But I heard your shop is outstanding itself — congrats, Fred."

Fred only blushed because he didn't have time to comment on her praise since George appeared next to them, with his ice cream in his hands.

"Hi, [y/n]," he smiled, but his expression and tone were nowhere near the joy in Fred's.

"How are you, George?" she asked politely, noticing that she was braver to do small talk with George than Fred.

"Fine as one can be knowing Voldy's out there," answered the twin, his voice tone so standardized, it showed how many times had he answered that. "You do believe in his return, right?" he asked; suddenly, he remembered she used to be a Slytherin.

[y/n] pretended not to care when George suggested so easily otherwise, even though Fred, in front of her, seemed close to slapping his twin. She was used to other people's prejudice.

"Oh, I do," she said. "I'm with parents buying supplies, really but, right now, I just ran away from them."

"They're getting on your nerves?" asked Fred, quickly remembering their time in school when [y/n]'s mom used to send her letters almost every day.

[y/n] took in Fred's friendly and joking smile. She didn't realize she missed the twins. Missed Fred.

"My mom knows how to stress someone," [y/n] let out.

"Probably learned with ours," commented George, sighing playfully. Then he turned to his twin, "Fred, we gotta go; we can't leave Verity alone for too long."

Fred pressed his eyes shut with enormous force — he knew his twin was correct, but he didn't want to leave.

"Go ahead, George, I'll catch up," Fred said finally, avoiding [y/n]'s eyes, scared it would reveal that she did not want him there.

They were friends or at least used to be, and after school, they just lost touch. [y/n] pushed herself away from all her friends on purpose, and Fred didn't think he could be an exception. Besides, she spent most of her time in the muggle world, pursuing her career — which was no secret to the gossip of wizardly London that she was failing. She had yet to get any parts in any movies or plays, and the most prestigious families were saying all horrible things about her.

His own mother was one of the gossipers spreading rumours, but every time she said anything near Fred, he would jump at her, shutting her up.

"So..." she started saying and scratched her throat. "How's your family?" she asked finally. "I bet your mom doesn't complain about the joke shop anymore."

He smiled. It could be awkward between them sometimes, but it was pretty easy to fall into a comfortable flow.

"She doesn't, you're right," he laughed with his nose, pausing to take his ice cream. "And Ron is always asking us for money now."

"As he would," [y/n] smiled, remembering tenderly of the lovely Weasley family.

"And you? How's the career going?" he almost joked as he used to do, mentioning she was a porn star, but now that the rumours said she basically had no career, he was scared she had run to that option as her last resort. And who was he to judge?

"You mean acting?" she asked and puffed, playing with her ice cream. "I've given up on it not so long after I left Hogwarts."

"You're kidding."

"Nope," she sighed. "I tried, sure, 'cause I'm not that coward, but.. it was clear it wouldn't turn out to be anything. I'm always the weirdo at auditions, always saying something wrong... I thought watching tons of muggle movies would leave me as a great performer of the muggles' grimaces, but it sure didn't. Or simply just wasn't enough."

"I can't believe you quit," he said. "You craved it so much back at school."

"That's cause I didn't know what it really was like back at school," she sighed again. "They don't want me not even backstage."

"That can't be true!" Fred looked — and it probably was the first time [y/n] had seen him like that — a mix of angry and exasperation.

"Don't let it get over your head, Fred," she avoided his eyes. "I don't."

He stared at her, for a moment just the two of them and the silence.

"Besides, I'm working with my dad at his muggle bookshop," she shrugged. "You should stop by anytime. if there's someone that can make you read a book, and like it, it's my dad."

Fred still wanted to talk about [y/n]'s acting career but he understood the subject could still be sensitive to her.

"I doubt that," Fred let himself smile again.

They spent more minutes talking, picking up in all the subjects they could and then reliving old memories until Fred remembered he had to go back to work.

He got up, saying his goodbyes, while [y/n] stood there, her ice cream already eaten.

"See you, Fred," she said, her tone clear of her sadness.

Fred only took two steps before turning back at her. He pressed his hands in his pants pockets — a million feelings going to his head, most of them telling him to give up.

But he remembered how much he wanted to do that since Hogwarts, and with her, and only with her, he simply never gathered enough courage.

And that wasn't fair.

[y/n] deserved a chance with him as much as any girl. He deserved a chance with her as much as any guy.

"[y/n]," he swallowed, nervous as her eyes met his, "would you by any chance like to go out with me?"

"I'd love to!" she said, not even remembering she ever wanted to go out with him, but now feeling like that was all she ever craved.

Two Days Later...

The night had been exciting. Spending hours before a mirror, hoping for the best look had paid off, [y/n] noticed because Fred Weasley couldn't stop staring at her with big eyes.

They managed to talk a bit about everything, always having something new to add to their conversation. Even when they remained in silence, it wasn't bad. It was anxious but great.

And then he insisted on dropping her off, which only made her more nervous. She wanted to kiss him and she hoped so badly he enjoyed his night as much as she had so he would want to kiss her too.

At Hogwarts, she could not deny it, it had occurred to her kissing Fred. However, it was always when she was too drunk to manage a congruent thought or when her friends asked who of their friends she could kiss. But the fact is: they never did.

A corner of her mind wondered if she ever really did have a window with him back then, but school memories were all a blur in her mind. It seemed obvious now that she and Fred could match, but back then, not so much.

Fred was thinking the same. He liked her. He always did.

They knew each other before Hogwarts, and even if at first (she being a Slytherin and all) they were apart, their friendship rose so easily on their second year and managed to stay firm until the very end.

He remembered wanting to kiss her but it was never as bad as he wanted now, when he had her hand in his, and she was blushing simply because they were standing side to side.

And when he finally did, finally allowed his lips to touch hers — heavens — he could have died right then. It felt right. It felt good.

Fred had kissed many times before, but none felt as close to perfection as this time.

He pulled her in softly by her cheek, letting his lips simply brush against hers and she gasped, opening her mouth, desperate for more.

Then his hands were everywhere, and [y/n] was not reserved herself. She pulled forward, holding grasp of his hair, and it was unclear to determine who would let go first.

Perhaps never let go was a good solution. They both thought so.

One Year Later...

Fred Weasley lied before her, forever moveless.

She could not believe it.

She reached for his cold hands and squeezed, hoping her touch would be enough to reverse what was irreversible.

On both of her sides, there was a Weasley crying, desperate as much as her.

But the only one feeling as hollow as her, the only one that could compete as her sadness was George. No words were able to comfort.

Not right there, not at the burial ceremony, not at her empty apartment above the joke shop.

Everything reminded her of him.

They had been together for only a year, but he was her best friend before that. Somehow, when she played different scenarios in her head, she felt like she could have suffered more if they had stayed just as friends.

It was the latest memories the ones that hurt the most. She knew they were in danger when the war began, but both were not going anywhere, and Fred had hope.

Every night in hiding he would hold her against his bare chest and whisper that they were going to be okay. Sometimes he even joked she would get out of it with a movie deal about the Wizarding War.

[y/n] and George helped each other out of their worst moments, creating a friendship tighter than they had before. But, eventually, she knew that without Fred she did not belong in the joke shop building.

At Fleur's and Bill's wedding, Fred had made her promise she would try the film industry once again.

"You know," he said, whispering in her year while they slow danced, "your dad says you like to write. Perhaps you should write a script."

"Perhaps," she smiled. "But about what should the movie script be?"

"About me, of course," he joked.

How she wished he was there with her.

Walking in to deliver her first script.

About them.

About her.

About him.

#fred weasley #fred and george #fred weasley x reader #fred and goerge weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley x reader #james phelps #weasley twins #draco malfoy

[vlads-fangs]

Yondu Imagine #4

This one really made me happy while writing it, I hope you guys enjoy it too💙

idea: Yondu gets injured, and you see his soft side

Softer Than He Seems

“Can any of these Ravagers actually do their part and help dust every once in a while?”

You mumbled under your breath while dusting the inside of the ship. With these ravagers going in and out of the ship constantly it dragged in so much filth. It’s been a few hours since you started your little cleaning spree, and you had just gotten half way through the ship. This was probably going to be a two day job. You rinsed our you cleaning rag and duster, putting them up for the day.

“I’ll finish the rest up tomorrow-“

Just as you were finishing up, you could hear them all return from whatever mission they had to complete that day. Heading toward the entrance of the ship you looked for the captain, Yondu. Recently, Yondu has been acting nicer than usual to you. Usually he was kind but of course he would throw the usual cuss word or two in your direction. Though in the past few days he’s been much sweeter to you, and he would get onto the others if they ever made you uncomfortable or made fun of you in any way.

When you couldn’t find Yondu, you went straight to Kraglin. It took kraglin about a week to get used to you when you first joined the ravagers, but after that the two of you had become great friends. It was nice to have someone like him to talk to. Tapping on the taller guy’s shoulder he turned to face you.

“Hey Kraglin, it was wondering if you knew where Yondu went? I wanted to let him know that I’ll finish cleaning the ship tomorrow.”

Kraglin nodded and motioned down the hallway with his hand.

“Oh yeah, boss man should be in his room.”

You thanked him and headed down the hallway. Your boots lightly thudded against the floor of the ship as you made your way to the captain’s room. Once you stood at his door you raised your hand and lightly knocked. You waited for a few seconds but no response. You knocked again but still no response. Okay, now you were getting a little worried. Even the third time you knocked there was no answer. You grabbed the door handle and slowly opened his bedroom door.

“Yondu? Hey I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything but I was just worried-“

When you walked in he wasn’t in his room, but you heard a pained growl in his bathroom. You cautiously made your way towards the door which was wide open. When you got to the door you saw Yondu slightly leaned over the sink with his shirt off and a big red gash on his shoulder. You gasped at the sight, loud enough for him to hear. He looked at you in the reflection of the mirror.

“What do you want?”

He snapped, looking at his injury in the mirror.

“I-..Yondu-..I mean-…sir, what happened?”

You were very concerned, hating to see him hurt. Yondu sighed and shook his head.

“Got into a damn fight-“

You stepped closer, hoping he wouldn’t mind. Your concern showed on your face, and it was clear as day. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, avoiding the injury so you wouldn’t hurt him. He flinched a bit when the feeling of you hand appeared on his shoulder. After inspecting his wound, your eyes met his.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, please let me help you with this? It would be horrible for you you too get an infection, plus it’s much easier than trying to do it yourself. Please?”

You tried convincing him, and surprisingly enough he agreed.

You were shocked but happy. Taking his hand, you led him to the bed sitting him down there. You left him for a few minutes to go grab some supplies. Once you returned, you sat down next to him. The bleeding seemed to have mostly stopped which was good. You cleaned up his wound, noticing he was trying his best to stay calm and not yell.

“Okay, now it’s time to stitch it up.”

Yondu looked at you strangely.

“Time to do what now?”

Lifting yo the needle and threw his eyes went wide for a second. You latter his back gently to reassure him that he would be ok.

“Don’t worry it’ll end soon.”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. You stated to stitch up his wound, getting the first stitch done.

“Don’t talk to me like that, I ain’t no damn child- fuck!!”

You held in a laugh as you finished the rest of the stitches. He handled the rest of them better than the first. Last but not least you bandaged his shoulder, having to bring the wraps across his chest to keep them in place.

“That’s got it. Now just get some rest and be careful what you do with that shoulder for a little while.”

Yondu stood up to go look in the mirror at the bandages. He looked back at you, but this time with a softness in his eyes. Wow, you’ve never seen that look from him before. He grabbed a clean shirt and slipped it on being careful of the bandages. You smiled as your face turned a light pink.

“Well um..I better get going, have a good evening sir-…oh-“

Before you could finish your sentence Yondu had pulled you in for a hug. w o a h. You weren’t expecting this at all- the hug was so gentle and kind..it was so sweet of him to do that.

“Thanks again, y/n, I really appreciate it.”

He let go and went to his door to let you out. As you went out into the hallway he caught your hand before you got too far.

“Oh also, ya can call me Yondu, no more of that sir stuff.”

You nodded and gave him a sweet smile as your blush returned. Finally getting to your room, you laid on your bed as your heart did backflips.

Yondu was much more of a softie than you thought.

#yondu #yondu udonta #marvel #guardians of the galaxy #michael rooker #fanfic #imagine #comfort character #comfort #cute

[cutemeat]

idk what to ask but I'm gonna share my idea for the iasip series finale.

its a 4 episode arc, but frank is dead. each member of the gang give a eulogy and each discusses their last scheme with just them and frank (a flashback, and in each there's a moment that seems like a potential cause of death (takes weird pills in one, hits his head in another etc) and its silly sunny style and then they also all get a more heartfelt moment where they talk about what frank means to them/special moments (maybe some we saw like mfhp, some new ones too) that gives that heart that sunny can do well when it wants to.

and just as the gang finally cracks, feeling emotion and as someone crying says "I loved him", the casket shoots up, franks like 'aha i got you weak bitches...who wants rum ham'

and there's a moment when it looked like all 4 might kill him, they all cheer for the rum ham and then we cut to a wide shot of the funeral - mix of appalled expressions by some who attended but the sunny regular patrons, just dont give a fuck. shot of the bar from outside - boom, done ✔

LMAO NO THIS IS SO GOOD THO I LOVE DISCUSSING POSSIBLE SUNNY FINALE SCENARIOS esp cuz it rlly could go either way where they have some sort of finale planned or just let the show.. sort of End.

frank doing some kind of fake-out to "test" the gang would be so perfect and in character for him lol. i know @stationelevens pitched a similar finale idea in the macden den n it was the first time i'd seen an idea like that so I became totally obsessed w it

I think it would be equally interesting if it was an ep where thru the whole thing the gang is convinced frank must be pulling some sort of cruel prank (esp the twins) and like you see this scene of dee and dennis both standing over his open casket just yelling at him to wake up already they get the joke they've learned their lesson so he can cut the shit- and charlie and mac are both awkwardly watching them from the side not really knowing what to do or say. then thinking about charlie having to come home to an empty apartment after it all just kind of kills me... but of course, they could put a sweeter spin on it where the gang comes to get charlie and they all go to a hotel n act obnoxious and like throw plastic chairs in the pool or something else debauched and horrible to cheer him up cuz it's probably what frank would've done lmao.. n, of course, they make rum ham to eat at the pool in his honor or smth.

n since were on the topic i have a finale idea of my own that I'm gonna put under the cut <3

i think i'd want a sorta on the nose metaphor where the gang retires n uses the money to buy a huge yacht where they plan to sail around the world or something... and at the very start, frank jokes about wanting a viking funeral smth offhand...

but of course, a few weeks in something goes wrong like there's a storm and/or the boat winds up catching on fire and they all wind up "going down with the ship" in the same style as the season 11 finale but this time no one is there to save em.

so then it fades to black n you think its over but then the sound of a shoreline slowly fades in and there's like a shot of seagulls pecking at a pair of two hands still linked together n it's charlie and dee waking up and like spitting out wet sand n they discover they've washed up on some deserted beach and they start walking and think they're both totally alone on a deserted island.

unbeknownst to them mac and dennis have also woken up washed up on the shore on the opposite side of the island and are wandering around themselves... somewhere along the way each team finds a sort of "treasure map" that they think was abandoned by some pirates cuz of course they would n both teams set out to find the spot...

then our very last shot is of frank in his own beach mansion on some other nearby island where he's got a big setup with multiple cameras filming the island and he's got a bag of chips and is watching each team wander around the island lol.

feels like a realistic (for them) and kind of fucked up ending but also leaves a big open-ended new adventure for them so it's still smth kinda exciting to leave ppl with maybe ... this is really all one big nod to the joke charlie day made in the Break Up commentary about sunny being a 'pirate show' LOL

#thank u i think this is such a fun thing to discuss #anyone else w sunny finale ideas pls share urs in an ask/replies/rb if u want!!!! #also hope u dont mind the mini shoutout laurie but lemme know n I can edit that part out if u want !! didn't go into details just in case u #parkers pitch

[darthkruge]

Can we have some dad ani x mom reader where leia goes to her first date with han and Anakin is so overprotective till the reader talks some sense in him?

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Family

Summary: Anakin goes into Dad Mode when Leia is going on her first date with Han and the Reader helps him realize he’s being a tad overprotective. 

Warnings: Slight language, Anakin being overprotective, Reader being amused by Anakin’s antics, the usual (by that I mean fluff)

Words: 1.4k

A/N: Omg of course! I love Dadakin and so yes I think yes <3. I know you asked for mom!reader but I tried to keep it gender neutral, I hope that’s okay! Also I really thought I’d mess this up horribly but I’m kind of… happy with it?? Shocking, I know. Also I’m sad because mans deserved a family smh. I didn’t know what to title this for the life of me but it’s okay.

gif credit (x) (he looks so freaking pretty i cannot cope)

“Nope, not happening!” Anakin said, pacing around your Coruscant apartment.

“Dad, please!”

“No!” 

Leia groaned, looking to you for help. “Please tell him he’s being ridiculous!”

You nodded towards your daughter knowingly. “Anakin, come on, she’s old enough, it’s fine!”

“Y/N, no! Have you seen the guy? He looks like he’d… I don’t know… leave his fingernail clippings in the bathroom or something! Or not tip after going out to dinner because he had to keep his singles ready for the strip club!”

You snorted at your husband's comments, watching him walk a hole into your floor as your daughter helplessly ran her fingers through her hair.

“You can’t just make the decisions for me! You’re supposed to trust me! I like him, I have good judgment. This isn’t fair and you know it!” Leia’s anger was palpable as she spoke, her words sharp. 

Anakin’s eyes softened. “Look, Leia, I know you like him. But I know guys like him, he’s bad news. You’re not going.”

Leia looked like she was about to scream so you decided this was a good time to intervene. “Ani, come talk to me in the kitchen please?” You said, basically dragging him by the arm. 

“Y/N, come on. Are you seriously considering letting her go out with him?”

“Yeah! I am! Anakin, we can’t protect the kids forever! Listen, I’ve seen him interact with her, he’s different. He’s kinder, sweeter. I don’t know, I just think we should let her do this.”

“But he’s a notorious asshole!”

You conceded. “I’ve heard. But still! Look, Leia’s a good kid, she’s logical, and she can definitely hold her own if he’s shitty. And don’t you think we should try not to judge until we meet him ourselves? Besides, on the off-chance this date is a mistake, isn’t it better she finds out now when she still has us to help her feel better afterwards? I don’t want our daughter to be so sheltered that she’s unprepared later in life.”

Anakin nodded, running his hands up and down your arms. “I know, my love. You’re right. It’s just hard for me to see her growing up, I don’t want her to get hurt. I’m her father, I’m supposed to protect her and I just- if this Han Solo idiot messes with her it’ll be my fault.” 

You cupped your husband’s cheeks in your hands. “Listen to me, Ani. You can’t protect everyone, especially not from their own decisions. You have to let her do this.”

Anakin, dramatic as always, groaned and threw his head back before finally meeting your gaze again and nodding. He put his hand on the small of your back, guiding you back to the living room where your daughter was anxiously waiting. Her head perked up as the two of you walked in.

“You can go, sweetheart.” You said, gently.

“Really?! Thank you!!” Leia ran up to you and hugged you. You squeezed her back. Even though you were less protective about dating than your husband didn’t mean that you liked the idea of her going out with some guy that had a rocky reputation, at best. 

Leia broke away from you and walked up to her father. “Thank you, Dad.”

Anakin hugged his daughter close. He would do anything for his family and loved all of you more than life. You smiled at the scene in front of you. Watching your husband interact with your children was one of your greatest joys. 

Hearing someone knock at the door, you all broke apart.

“Okay! Bye!” Leia said, moving to leave.

“Wait, wait, wait! We need to at least see this young man before your date!” Anakin said, moving to open the door.

As he saw Han leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in a very cocky manner, it took every ounce of power he had to not slam the door in Han’s face. You smirked at your husband’s expression and moved to let Han inside. 

“Han!” Leia said as Han ran up to meet her.

“Hey, princess,” He said, picking her up and spinning her around. 

You looked up at your husband’s face, seeing his jaw ticking slightly. You laughed and gestured for him to lean down. “Okay but you have to admit, that was cute” You whispered in his ear.

Anakin let out a small huff but you could tell he agreed. He just put his arm around you and cleared his throat. “Home by 11, okay?”

“Home by midnight?” Leia asked hopefully.

“Fine, okay. Midnight, but not a minute later!” Anakin said. You chuckled. He was a sucker for her; he couldn’t say no and you all knew it. 

Han nodded at you and Anakin and Leia waved as they stepped outside, and then they were off. Anakin immediately bolted over to the balcony, craning his head.

“Anakin what the hell are you doing?”

“Shh! I’m trying to see which way they’re going so I know which route to take.”

“Which route to take?”

“Yeah! When I go follow them.” He said, as if it was the most normal thing ever.

“Anakin!”

“What?”

“You can’t go follow them!”

“Like hell I can’t!”

“Anakin Skywalker if you ruin this date for our daughter I will divorce you faster than you can say ‘lightsaber’” 

“But Y/N-” 

You cut him off, laughing slightly as he pouted at you. “No! Love, come on inside, let’s have dinner and watch something on the holoprojector while we wait for her to get back, okay?”

Anakin sighed, nodding in agreement. You shook your head, smiling as you took his arm and walked back inside. Instead of moving to the kitchen, Ani plopped both of you on the couch, taking a moment to just think about how lucky he was.

“Thank you for caring about our family, Ani” You said softly, breaking the silence.

“Always, angel. You really think it’ll go well?”

You thought for a moment. “Maybe. And if not, that’s not something we can control. Now can we please go eat before you come up with another crazy idea, like dressing Ahsoka up in a disguise to go and pretend to be their waitress?”

“Now that you mention it, that’s actually-”

You shut him up with a kiss. Anakin gently bit your bottom lip, asking for access which you happily granted. He shifted you so you were sitting atop his lap, your thighs straddling his hips. His tongue slowly entered your mouth and you moaned softly at the feeling. You were completely entranced by him and loved every moment of it. 

“How did I get so damn lucky?” he asked as you broke away. 

“I’m not sure. But I am pretty special, aren’t I?” You smirk.

He looked at you with adoration. “Yeah, you are.”

The two of you spend the night eating food and end up curled back on the couch, enjoying each other’s company and the cool breeze. Finally, the doorbell rings and your heads perk up.

You were surprised to see Han still with Leia, not expecting him to walk her to the door. The two of them were smiling at each other and you couldn’t help but smile back. From the corner of your eye, you saw Anakin’s lips were curling up, too. At the end of the day, all you wanted as parents was for your children to be happy. 

“Goodnight, princess.” Han said.

“Goodnight, scoundrel!” Leia shot back at him, turning away to walk inside. 

You waved goodbye to Han before slowly shutting the door and looking at your daughter. 

“So you’re dating scoundrels now?” You said, eyebrows quirked.

Leia rolled her eyes. “Proudly.” 

You laughed. She definitely picked up the sarcasm from her parents. 

“Did you have fun?” Anakin asked.

“What, no third-degree?”

“What, would you like an interrogation?”

“Nope! Thanks!” Leia said quickly. “It was… it was good. I have a feeling about him. It was exciting, you know?”

You smiled, thinking back to one of your first dates with Anakin. He took you out on his speeder and you swore you were going to die. Even so, it was the most alive you’d felt in a long time and you knew that if someone could give you that feeling, they were a person you needed to get to know more. “Yeah, I know, sweetheart. I’m glad you had such a good time! Now, get ready for bed, okay? It’s already pretty late.”

“Okay, okay,” Leia said, still pretty giddy from the evening. As she disappeared to her room, you turned back to your husband.  

“That went pretty well, don’t you think?” Your tone was light, teasing. 

Anakin nodded. “Alright, yeah, don’t go gloating about it too much.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

the link to join my taglist is in my pinned! if your username is crossed out, that means that for some reason i couldn’t tag you. please dm me if you would like to be taken off <3

permenant tags:

@saltybreaddream @buckysbeloved @lolquarth

anakin tags:

@anakinswhore @kennedywxlsh @coldlilheart @adamgetawaydriver @chokemeanakin @gayidioot @starwars-whore @katelynnwrites @haydens-moles @serpntines @anakinlove @rowley-with-ackerman @dexthtoyounglings @babykinskywalker @cluelessgurl @april-showers-and-flowers @astxrias @beiroviski @captainshazamerica @alyssa-skywalker 

#megan writes #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x gn!reader #anakin skywalker x gender neutral reader #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin x reader #anakin imagines #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin x gn!reader #anakin x gender neutral reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #request

[lyallblacklupin]

Now that all is over.

TW: Implied Sexual Assault/Nightmares.

Voldemort is killed with all aspects which is how the Second Wizarding War has ended. Fortunately, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin have survived. They have a godson to look forward to make up for the lost times, the world is serene and ill-free, and especially, they have each other. Life cannot have been any sweeter.  However, one miserable night, Sirius jerks out of the worst nightmare he has ever seen in his life. He is screaming and looking anywhere for help but Remus Lupin, who has been sleeping beside him. Will Remus be able to calm him down without having to touch him, or even come close to him?

There are a lot of things Remus Lupin should be thinking right now, which included his indecisiveness for accepting the job Dumbledore has offered him again, now that the story of Voldemort had ended once and for all. Also, the fact that he needs to move out from Grimmauld Place for the sake of his-boyfriend? Fiancé? Lover? He doesn’t understands what they are, but he knows that they are certainly not teenagers anymore. They had endured wars, losses and especially, ducked down from their own deaths, together. They finally have another chance to live, and this time it is without the fear. The fear that had been looming like their shadows since they can remember. This was THE chance.

However, as Remus exchanges the bill with the cash the red-headed girl is giving him for the Oscar Wilde’s poetry—which becomes a good distraction because the girl looks timid and strongly reminds him of Lily Evans picking up poetry from the Hogwarts for him, then she would smile at him with a teasing glint in her emerald eyes when it was Wilde’s queer poetry—he is stuck with his brain flickering the image of what happened today morning at half past five when Sirius jolted out of his sleep, running away from nothing but Remus.

“Sirius, honey—“

“NOOOOO!” Sirius’ eyes were screwed shut and he was pulling his hair like a madman, squirming in the most corner of their bedroom, with his knees glued to his chest as he quivered violently. Remus didn’t know what to do because this was something that he had never experienced in their togetherness. Sirius did have the tendency of having frequent nightmares even in Hogwarts, but never once he had pulled Remus away when he had reached and took his trembling body to tuck it against his own. He didn’t even need to ask his permission which was evidently clear that Sirius could recognize his presence without even looking him. However, this time Sirius’ wide eyes were staring him and yet he was shrieking when Remus inched forward to touch him. All of this was giving Remus only one answer: The nightmare was about Remus.

“Okay, Sirius, I’m not touching you, I’m not coming to you, see…” He steps back and sits on his bed across the very scared looking Sirius sitting on the floor. He pretended that didn’t have assume the reason behind Sirius’ behavior, looking very calm, “Did you have a nightmare, love? You can tell me, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise you, Sirius—“

His words died in his throat and suddenly something very heavy settled on his chest because Sirius is shaking his head.

“Don’t lie.” Sirius whispered and Remus thought that all of his surrounding was turning upside down. He hadn’t felt so helpless before. It had never been like this. Sirius had always been too tactile with him, no matter what. He couldn’t do anything, he was running out of ideas and strategies to deal with the situation. His mind was ringing and he started feeling nauseous as if some vial is refluxing from his stomach. His fisted the bedsheet and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to call out Sirius but he could hardly hear his own voice when a certain ringing sound is somewhere around him. He could tell nothing except the regrets and the what-ifs that were screaming in his head: What is happening to us? Are we falling again when the chance is finally here? Why now? What if Sirius had dreamt that the wolf has killed him? What if Sirius has now realized that he was bound with a monster? What if Sirius has believed that nightmare? He shouldn’t have been with me! He deserves more! Someone who is hundred times better than me! What will I do without him? And again? Weren’t those twelve years enough for us? Why isn’t the universe a little merciful on us?

And then what came out from his mouth was a sob. His body was shaking as it  racked through him. He manages to breathe as he lifted up his head and there was Sirius looking at him with his tear-stained face, inching forward towards Remus’ legs by the bed. Remus wanted to throw caution to the wind and embrace him with all his strength and love, but he had to be very gentle to not make him flinch. He carefully raised his hand, not breaking his eye contact with him. Sirius nods hesitantly. It broke Remus’ heart to see the doubtful face of his lover. His fingers touched the skin of his arm, and fortunately there was no hint of discomfort in his face.

“What’s happened, Sirius? What did you see?”

Remus deliberately jerks himself out of the flashback because what Sirius explained him after that, was not failing him to shudder every time he plays that memory in his head. He realizes that he has to go to the therapist he has been seeing since a month. He likes Dr. Holly Meyer, and she knows about his relationship with Sirius. He thinks that she was the right person to talk.

His shift at the bookstore ends at quarter past two as he hurries for his appointment.

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

“Does Sirius have any past trauma related to rape or any sexual assault he has experience from his loved one?”

“Umm, no, he never mentioned.” Remus replies to Holly’s question. But he highly doubts that Sirius was never sexually molested by his family because one of the days at Hogwarts, when they were dating, he saw an angry looking bruise on Sirius’ hip which jolted him to his cores. However, Sirius never talked about it and neither Remus had the audacity to ask him who did that to him.

“Remus, have you ever done something which has terrified him? Any physical gesture or…I hope you know what I am talking about. Something that might have prompted that memory out of him, which also might have influenced him through this nightmare?”

Remus felt sudden surge of heat beneath his cheeks, and he doesn’t know how to answer. They haven’t physically interacted with each other in a while. The last time he can remember is when Sirius gained health after being in comma for five weeks when Bellatrix had hit him with a very complex curse at the Department of Mysteries. They were reunited in Grimmauld Place after the healers discharged him, both of them brimming up with emotions as they tried to express their undying love for each other. After that blissful moment, they got too busy with the approaching war, that they could only spare time for quick snogging and whispering ‘I love you’s incase if they never see each other.

“No, we haven’t…I mean didn’t-we didn’t…” He was not looking at the doctor because Remus could feel her smiling at him. “But why me? Why was it me in the dream doing those horrible things to him?

“Remus, dreams can be quite deceptive, and not to mention our mind has the power to take shapes of our fears the most terrifyingly in our dreams.”

Remus is speechless, and he is feeling something ugly erupting in his chest. He is quite precise about it. It is guilt. For not taking care of Sirius’ mental health.

“Remus?” Holly calls out very softly. Remus looks up sheepishly, despite the burning sensation creeping his neck and cheeks. “The case is quite clear here. Sirius has something in his hearts of hearts that he isn’t telling you. Something that hasn’t just left him ashamed or traumatized but also he is quite uncertain if this is something he should talk about. I assume that he is not giving it the importance to discuss this with you. And at the same time, you are not giving him the attention he wants from you. You two have been through misfortunes that has left you both listless and empty. You need to fill each other with love and happiness. Any love gestures will do. Let the other know that you are here for them in every possible way.”

Remus feels like his legs are giving out, even though he is sitting on a very comfortable armchair.

“Go, get your man. He needs you. He just doesn’t have the heart to bear loneliness. He is suppressing himself for you because he think this is what you want.”

No, this is not what I want! He makes a mental note to himself. And how could I not want Sirius? Remus knows that he is lying to himself about the war being the only reason for their lack of physical contact. He knows that there has been lack of communication which has followed the current problem, landing them here.

“I shouldn’t have left him alone in that house.” Remus mumbles.

“No, Remus, you did the right thing.” Holly retorts gently, “This is what he needed. To think straight with himself and be sane. You being there would have been too suffocating for him. Clearly, you needed someone to put sense in you. Your welcome.”

She is smiling amusingly, and Remus can’t help but agree. He is leaving when Dr. Holly calls him out and he turns to her.

“Say, Remus, what flowers does your better half loves the most?”

Roses. It is an automatic reply like he doesn’t need to think for even a second. Red Roses. Very cliché Sirius Black. Remus bites back a chuckle and tells her.

“Oh boy, Remus, you have a hopeless romantic in that house sulking alone, and what you are doing to him is brutal.” She is grinning at him, and he is quite grateful of her for not scolding him because he suddenly feels that he deserves it. He was too distant while being next to Sirius. He would much rather prefer to take responsibility for all of this, and make things right between them.

He apparates in front of Grimmauld Place 12, clutching a bouquet of fresh red roses. He grimaces when the scent fills his nostrils, and the idea of being above forty and doing such gesture is making him nervous. He enters the house, and suddenly stops in his track to find that the hallway is not dark anymore, it is kindled up by so many candles and enchanted stardust floating in mid-air, taking various beautiful colors. For a second, he thinks he is somewhere else. Maybe 11 or 13 Grimmauld Place? But then Sirius emerges with a pop, wearing an apron, his hair is neatly tied in a bun. He is also wearing black robes, and he has shaved but there are dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey!” Sirius walks towards him and he is saying a lot of things with the weak smile on his face, but Remus is staring him with utter fascination. He is suddenly feeling very young to realize that Sirius can still make him fluster with nothing but looking like that. Remus cannot let out a word from his mouth, but then he is broken out of his trance of swooning when he registers those silver orbs are widening, and then glistening. Remus feels an unexpected panic rising in his stomach because now tears are streaming down Sirius’ cheeks. And before he knows it, Sirius has crashed his lips on his. Remus cannot help but kiss him back. His damp is skin rubbing his, and they both rests their forehead against each other.

“Thank you.” Sirius whispers, pressing a kiss on his nose. Remus has forgotten that he have brought roses for the love of his life until Sirius is taking them, which is when he realizes the reason for why Sirius started crying suddenly. A weak grin appears on his lips, and Remus realize that he has never felt so happy in a longest while. “You remembered that I like roses.”

“Of course, darling.” Remus says teasingly, reaching forward to capture Sirius’ lips again, but then Sirius is laughing merrily which instantly warms Remus’ heart. Even so, he leans further and kisses him a little more earnestly. Sirius laces his arms around him, and Remus takes their height difference as a benefit to scoop him up in his arms.

“Moony…”

“Yes, love?” Remus nuzzles his nose against Sirius’ cheeks, as they stumbles in the nearby drawing room.

“I’m sorry about today.”

Suddenly, the awkwardness returns.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Remus says, “It was a bad dream, Sirius. I know that you love me, and I love you. It’s enough and we should be forever together and we should probably get married and have a new life and live in a country or something far away from everything and all and—“

Sirius is gawking at him, dumbfounded, and Remus realizes that he is rambling. He wants to slap himself right now. He might have ruined the night he is intending to make the most opportune.

“I mean…I—Sirius…” He knows that he is still scared. No matter how much the therapist has tried convincing him, he knows that no one can convince him completely, but Sirius Black. He wants to walk past the layer of no communication, and he does.

“Sirius…I can never hurt you. I can never even imagine of hurting you that way. I certainly have hurt you emotionally in the past, and maybe I still am, and if you feel like it then please talk to me, tell me if I have hurt you. But I have never hurt you physically, Sirius. I have never. It is worrying me. Have I done anything? Don’t fear, Sirius, I promise you that I am not walking unless you order me away.”

Sirius slightly shakes his head at the end of Remus’ statement. He cups his face and places a lingering and soft kiss on his forehead.

“It is you. The real you.” He whispers against his skin, and it confuses Remus. “Remus…It was not you in the dream. It was you in front of me but this…” Sirius ran his hands on the latter body, squeezing his arms with fondness swimming in his eyes, “this feeling of you, your arms, these hands and…just you... were not  in the dream. It was him. The same feeling.”

“Him?” Remus knows where this is going. He already has his suspicions.

“My father.” Sirius’ reply doesn’t fail to make his eyes instinctively wide. The thought makes him shudder and Sirius slips away from his embrace, looking miserably lost.

There is one question that is still not planning on leaving his mind and he feels he needs to ask this from Sirius, no matter what the answer, and he does.

“Why still me?”

Remus expects that he will receive a very disgusting reply from Sirius, or a glare, or maybe he has completely ruin their night and Sirius will be shutting him out for good. But—

“I came face to face with my boggart the other day in the ministry.” Sirius replies, looking straight in his eyes. Remus can recall that Sirius’ boggart was his mother when they discovered in their third year’s Defense against the Dark Arts class. However, Sirius must have read his mind when he continues, “It is not my mother anymore.”

There is a brief, tensed silence between them.

“It was you.”  Remus’ heart suddenly stops. He fights to keep a poker face. “You were there looking at me with disgust and…” He can see that Sirius is struggling through his words as if they are causing him physical pain. “…you were looking at me with such hate and you said you were leaving me because you were tired of me. You…you have never looked at me like that…”

Tears are spilling from his grey eyes.

“You have always looked at me with warmth and humbleness, but that image of you is not leaving my mind. It is there and it is making me believe that it is true, Remus, because I don’t deserve you. You are so worthy of love, I am not. I was never worthy of love. I drove you mad in our relationship. I betrayed you once, and then made you believe that I can betray you twice. But you…you never did anything like that. You compromised yourself for me, in every way. You dealt with me for a very long time, and I won’t blame you if you don’t want to deal with me anymore. It would hurt. So much, because for me, it’s hard to imagine my life without you after everything we’ve been through, together.”

Remus is numbly standing, just looking at Sirius’ face flooding with tears. He feels like his heart is breaking and mending, breaking and then again mending, back and forth. He wishes internally that Sirius’ words may leave his heart mended, because he knows he cannot deal with another heartbreak, another loss, or another tragedy.

“Know this,” Sirius comes close and touches his wet cheeks, which is when he realize that the tears are also silently rolling down his own face. “…that I love you, Remus. I know you can’t hurt me. You’ve never because you have a pure heart, Moony.”

This is when Remus doesn’t take anymore. He shoves Sirius in his arms and sobs in his shoulder. He feels Sirius relaxing into his embrace because he is placing feather-light kisses on Remus’ exposed neck.

“I’m so sorry. I am so sorry, Sirius.” He doesn’t know for what he is exactly asking his forgiveness, but he knows deep down inside his heart that it is for everything that has happened in their lives.

“But no,” He pulls out to face Sirius, desperately reaches his hands to intertwine with his, “I am not leaving you, not because I can’t but because I don’t want to be away from you. I can never be tired of you, Padfoot! And I can’t be surer about that. You think I compromised my comfort for you? That was not a compromise. That was my love for you. And it still is, here. I never regretted our relationship because of you. I did once because of myself because you had to deal with me, my cursed and poverty-stricken life. I am nothing compared to you, and yet you want me. How can I not love you? How can I disgust you? Or hate you? It’s something that can never exist when it comes to you. I don’t think I loved anyone like that except for you. I still want you, only you. I love you, a little too much, please believe me.”

Sirius has his forehead pressed with his, as he murmurs against his cheek, “I believe you, Remus.”

They kiss and they kiss for Merlin knows how long. Remus is suddenly yanked back into one of his favorite memories with Sirius, when they were at Hogwarts and it was their seventh year. He remembers that those days were Christmas holidays because they were fooling around in their dorm very peacefully, with no fear of James or Peter interrupting them. The both lovebirds were the only ones who didn’t leave for their homes. The erratic breathing, the electric excitement in their bodies, the eagerness to explore each other’s mouth is something Remus can distinctly recall from that day, at this very moment because it feels just the same as if they are seventeen again.

He reaches for Sirius’ robes to unbutton them when Sirius pulls back gently.

“Wait,” For a second, Remus thinks that this is not what Sirius wants before he smiles romantically, “I hope you have guessed why I am wearing an apron?”

“You cooked?” Remus gapes at him that makes the other laugh gleefully. That laugh makes his heart flutter again like happiness was bubbling out of him. Sirius nods at him.

“I thought I should make up for disrupting your morning, and I know you must have taken a lot of stress at work because of me. So I made your favorites.”

“You didn’t have to do this, love, I know cooking is not something you like to do.”

“Wrong!” Sirius gasped dramatically, “I love to cook for you! And besides, you bought these roses for me…” He picks out the bouquet, sniffing its scent, admiring the handiwork, and smiling the entire time as he brushes his fingers around the rims of each petals of the roses. Remus just stares at him like that. He could see the pink flush appearing on Sirius�� cheeks, and he thinks to himself that this is the most scenic view to look at. He suddenly recognizes that all of his exhaustion has dissipated from his body, and he is very much looking forward to the rest of their night.

“Come on, first dinner, and then we’ll see.” Sirius winks, taking him to kitchen when Remus stops him gradually.

“Tell me you are not frightened of me, are you? Be honest with me, Sirius.”

“I was never, Remus. I was frightened of being alone. My own mind was playing tricks on me. But not you, never you.”

Remus sees his eyes are promising.

“Promise me that you will talk to me, about anything like we used to. Just like the old times.” 

“Just like the old times. I promise, Moony.”

Sirius’ eyes returns the glimmer, and they are shinning like they used to before war, or Azkaban. Remus feels the contentment spreading in his heart and comes to a realization that it is all he have been yearning for.

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar angst #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #remus x sirius #Sirius x Remus #post wizarding war #lovelycouple #mental health #boggart

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Hi you could write something in which Draco is in love with a Hufflepuff girl, but she is a little afraid of him and always runs away if they get too close, Draco gets a little desperate to get her attention and ends up using Amortentia  to make her fall in love with him ... You could have a little anguish, but end up with a happy ending?My first language is not English I'm sorry if you got confused

This is so creative Holy shit you guys have got some good ideas!

The potion. That GOD. DAMN. POTION. It all started with potions class. You were forced to be partners with Draco Malfoy. THE DRACO MALFOY. The one that scared the absolute daylights out of you. You were a relatively outgoing person, you were an absolute sweetheart to the first years in your house, how could Draco NOT notice you. Your hair was always in a ponytail, but there were these few strands that were always loose in the front that made the ponytail look adorable, though it was cleared you’d always get frustrated with them. Draco noticed these little things that you did, biting the end of pencils when you were focused, your habit of getting distracted easily and fidgeting with something like the ring on your finger, the fact that your best friend was always waiting outside your class and you’d usually get really excited when you knew you’d pass an exam. He was so in love it hurt. The poor guy would stay up at night sometimes and think about you. It was always when he couldn’t sleep. But the part that frustrated him the most is you wouldn’t talk to him. You always jumped or had this look that resembled pure terror whenever he’d talk to you. You’d start shaking, you’d nearly knocked things off your desk or you’d just apologize A LOT. Draco couldn’t understand this. Why were you afraid of him? 

There was this potions project that came up, Draco needed to work outside of class with you for. You loathed this. Because that meant having to talk, and talking meant the possibility of you messing up your words and saying something absolutely idiotic in front of him. It was no secret to your best friend Lila that you had this massive crush on the boy. To everyone else it just looked like he freaked you out just by BREATHING. Your mind couldn’t function around him, you always would trip, knock things over or stutter. So you kept quiet around him. Today that wasn’t possible. You needed to work with him and actually talk. You were a mess, always fucking up your words, shaking so bad you had to leave a couple of times, hiding your face behind large books. The next day was a bit different. You two needed specific books for this project and you knew EXACTLY where to get each one. “So you spend a lot of time in here?” Draco asked as you handed him a book. “Y-yeah. Granger u-usually studies with me.” You muttered. Well shit, of course you knew where everything was if you studied with Hermione. You handed him another book. “What books do you typically like to read?” Draco asked curiously. “U-uh... M-muggle ones u-usually older ones.” you said handing him another book. “Ah.” He nodded. You mistepped on the ladder and fell back, Draco dropping the books and catching you. Your face was becoming redder by the second and you jumped back. “T-t-thanks.” You said. “No problem. Can’t have you messing up that beautiful smile of yours.” He flirted making you nearly scream. Have you ever seen Inside out? If you have then you know that one scene with the boy that likes Riley and his brain screaming “GIRL. GIRL. GIRL.” over and over again. This was you. “I-I left something in p-potions I’ll b-be right back.” you squeaked out. You sprinted down the hall and practically screamed. How in the hell was this easy for Fred and George?

 Draco sighed. Great. He scared you. AGAIN. He picked up one of the many books he dropped before seeing the title. “Love potions”. Oh... Maybe just maybe he could use something here. No that would be absurd... Or would it. It certainly would get you talking to him... Maybe if he used... A little? No... Unless? Well you two did manage to finish the project, his excuse to see you again falling apart. Destiny worked in his favor however when he had to make a love potion for class. Amortentia. The class all had to say what they smelled. But you didn’t say anything, accepting the poor participation grade when it came. There was no way in hell you were admitting you smelled Draco in that cauldron. Draco slipped a small bit of the potion into a small vial, keeping it with him in case he changed his mind. Well he did. After saving your ass yet again from falling. “Do you enjoy falling on me or something?” He asked with a laugh. “I-I didn’t mean to f-fall f-for you-- I MEAN ON YOU!” You screamed. He blinked a few times. He just... He couldn’t take it anymore. So he sat by you one day. Scared the bejesus out of you naturally, but he slipped it in your drink. You sipped it and rose a brow. “That’s... Sweeter than I remember.” You muttered to yourself. Draco was good at potions. So why the fuck were you FUCKING UP EVEN MORE? 

More tripping, stumbling, falling, screaming, clumsy events were taking place. Did he mess up or something? He finally got an answer when you (yes. again.) tripped onto the poor guy and he caught you before you could hit the ground. “Y/n, you’ve got to stop falling for me like this, it’s getting ridiculous.” Draco teased. “It’s not my fault those silver eyes are really distracting!” You breathed out. Yep. There it was. Your face heated up. Where the fuck did that surge of confidence even come from!? “What was that Love?” Draco asked making your heart pound. You stood up straight. “You’re absolutely distracting dude, who is this attractive before they’re eighteen?” You asked. Oh God. Stop talking. PLEASE STOP FUCKING TALKING. “... I see.” Draco said with a small smile tugging at his lips. “Have your lips always looked that great or am I hallucinating?” you asked. He was trying really hard not to laugh at how quickly this coming out of your mouth. “Y/n, are you flirting with me?” He asked. “Ding ding ding, we have a winner.” You said. WHAT THE FUCK MAN!? SHUT THE FUCK UP PLEASE OR ELSE YOU’LL-- “I mean why else do you think I’m such a fuck up around you?” You snorted. SHIT. BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD-- Draco blinked. “What?” Draco asked, his reaction going from amused to “WAIT WHAT?”. “Yeah, I screw up all the time because you’re very distracting. Like have you seen that ass--” “OKAYYY Y/N!” Your friend said dragging you off. “What the fuck are you doing!?” Lila asked. “I don’t know, please make it stop-- Why is he coming over HERE!?” you whined. “I have to ask for clarification. You don’t hate me?” Draco asked. “HA! No! I’m ridiculously in love with you--” Lila slammed her hand over your mouth and smiled politely. “Y/n. Stop talking.” She begged. “For how long?” Draco asked, making sure this wasn’t coming from the potion. “Since our third year, did you know your hair brings out your eyes, because I sure did-- LILA HELP ME” You whined. “Excuse us Draco--” He pulled out another vial and pulled you forward. “Open.” He said. “Are we about to kiss right now--” He dropped a couple of droplets of a reversal potion in your mouth and you shot back. You coughed a couple of times because my God it tasted horrible. 

Lila rose a brow as Draco ran a hand over his face and you frowned. “Oh god. OH GOD OH GOD I FUCKED UP!” You groaned. Draco opened his mouth. “DON’T. SAY. A. WORD.” You groaned smacking your head onto the wall. Lila sighed and then it hit her. “wait a minute. That was Amortentia.” She said. Oh no. “YeS LILA I’M AwAre” You groaned. Draco inched back and she turned to him. “The potion only makes you attracted to--” “Who made it-- Yes Lila I’m aware of how it....” You leaned off the wall, turning to her. “Wait... a damn minute.” You said before looking at Draco. “Did you use a love potion on me!?” You asked. “I...” He sighed. “In my defense I didn’t mean for it to be that strong. I only wanted to make you hate me less!” He said. You blinked. “Hate you-- Draco I don’t hate you!” You said. “Well I know that now!” Draco said. You opened your mouth and then closed it. You sighed and just walked away. “Draco. Next time you have a crush GO TO THE BEST FRIEND. I swear boys are fucking idiots!” Lila groaned following after you. 

You avoided Draco like the plague, not even showing up to potions for a week. Draco hated this. He knew it was a bad plan, after all the potion would have to wear off eventually. But now you weren’t even talking or looking at him. He decided to give you your space, sitting outside in the courtyard rather than the great hall.

He sighed, closing his book when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see you. “Y/n... Look I am--” “Don’t. Give me a second okay?” You said before reaching in your bag. You held up a vial. “Truth serum?” Draco asked. “Yep.” You nodded. you uncorked the bottle and sighed. “Bottoms up.” You muttered before drinking some of it. Draco rose a brow. “I love you. I have since our third year. I constantly trip over everything because you literally are on my mind most of the time. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I hated you. I don’t, truth be told I can’t even form proper English around you much less walk. You don’t have to say anything.” you finally said. Draco blinked a couple of times. He looked at the vial and sighed. “Mind if I take some of that?” he asked. You handed him the vial and he finished it off. “I love you. I have since our first year when I literally ran into a post watching you laugh at a prank Fred pulled. I used the love potion because I was under the impression you hated me, not that you loved me. You hide your emotions well, let me tell you. I won’t do it again and I’m genuinely sorry.” he said. You blinked a few times. Well at least you couldn’t lie. “I have to know this though and I’m so sorry... But do I actually have a great ass?” He teased making you blush and shake your head. “You’re something else Draco.” You said with a giggle. He smiled and took your hand into his. “I love you Y/n.” He said softly, taking your hands into his. “I love you too... And to answer your question yes, you have a fantastic ass.” You said making him laugh. He shook his head before kissing you, holding you close in his arms as he did. “I have wanted to do that for years.” you said with a laugh. He smiled and kissed your forehead. “We have a lot to catch you up on.” He said taking your hand. “Ugh... Studying. Damn it.” you grumbled. He turned around, fingers under your chin.

 “I didn’t mean classwork darling.”

#draco fuckingmalfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x y/n

[fragileizywriting]

princess and the knight

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The storm is starting to die down.

Not a lot, it’s not enough. Instead of the onslaught on the tiles of their roof, and the wind hitting up against their door and windows, there is simply just rain. The wind has disappeared, for now, leaving the pittering and pattering on their rooftop— it’s relaxing, and calming, to know that there aren’t any holes in their roof and there is no water getting in. The rain makes her all the more thankful for the green fire that burns and swelters at the fireplace, licking at the sides of the logs with small cracks and snaps. The house is quiet, sans for the fireplace, and their quiet chatter.

They are tired. It’s quite easy to forget that they’re exhausted whenever they have a conversation, but the moment Chat’s mouth clicks shut, she’s all the more aware of it.

She is lonely. It’s easier to forget that she can’t reach out to him and hold him the way she wants to when they’re bantering or conversing. The moment she opens up her eyes and sees the slight distance on the couch between them, it tells her all she needs to know.

No matter how much she wants, Chat Noir doesn’t like her that way. Maybe it’s for the best.

“Adrien loved honeycomb.” She finds herself blinking long sweeps with her lashes.

“Did he?” Chat is in the process of licking his claws clean. His tail flicks slightly, unreadable, and his furry ears twitch at her words— but nothing else gives any indication of emotion.

“He loved all sorts of sweets,” It’s only fair that she breeches the topic. She knows he didn’t have to tell her anything about his past— even though they’re friends, there’s no need for him to tell her about his migraines. She’s thankful he has— she’s so, so thankful to have learned more about the demon who sits across from her with stars in his diamond-shaped eyes. She wants to know everything about him. But that is a selfish wish. “I used to bring him food all the time. Sneak him all sorts of sweets whenever I would go see him.”

“I don’t want to pry,” He tilts his head. This sweet, soft, gentile giant of a demon who speaks softly, just in case he’s worried of hurting her. “Can you tell me more about him?”

“You want to know more?” This surprises her.

“Of course I do,” He licks his last claw clean, showing her the most friendliest of grins he can make. It doesn’t always work out in his favor, given that his teeth are sharp and deadly— far too large to be considered normal teeth, with his canines poking out sometimes when he lets them out at their full length— but it’s endearing all the same to her. “Of course I want to know more about the guy you’re selling your soul for. Must be some guy.”

Where does she start? What does she even say?

How does she condense an entire friendship into only one conversation?

She struggles to find a proper starting point, one that will explain exactly why or how her friendship with Adrien came to be.

She starts with: “Adrien loved someone.”

Chat pauses with his arm trying to place the cleaned plate on the low table behind him. He doesn’t have to stretch far, given that his arms are long, but he’s completely unfocused on the action in favor of looking at her in the eye. “Did he?”

“I don’t know who it was,” She amends her words, for some inexplicable reason. It seems to calm down the demon anyway, and she doesn’t know how to react to it as she watches his ears unflatten from his head. “I never found out who it was. Honestly, I shouldn’t have even found out. I was ten years old when I learned my first spell, and I had been so excited to show Adrien that I grabbed the first basket of cookies I could find in the bakery and headed over to his house.”

Chat listens quietly, like he usually does when she talks about him. There are so many words trying to spill out of her.

“He’d been confined to his bed for a couple of days already— oh, it was horrible. I had no idea just how long he’d actually spend there— I had begun with the assumption that it would be a week or a bit more before he was back to health.” She sighs. “Imagine seeing the incarnate of the Sun, a golden child with laughter so sweet it could nurse a crying baby to rest, confined and wrapped in countless sheets and put under custody just because he’d fainted half a week before.”

They were young, yes, but something about the sight of her best friend laying in that giant bed with no one there with him always made her uncomfortable. For a boy so small, even at a young age, and a bed so huge, she was disturbed by it. The bed was almost as big as her room. Her friend was the smallest speck of gold in a purely grey room.

At first, she’d pulled up a chair to the bed, had helped him move closer to one of the edges, and kept him company that way. Then came the days where she was too tired to try sneaking in a chair from another room, she’d sit on the massive bed with him. She’d slip off her slippers, tuck her feet under her petticoats, and have quiet conversations with him so that it wouldn’t alert any passing maids.

She suspects, however, that the maids already knew. After all, there were cookie crumbs everywhere. They did a bad job hiding it.

By the end of it all, she’d be laying with him on occasions. Multiple times she’d found herself fallen asleep next to him— how he shivered from the cold and how she’d tried warming him up while they were both asleep.

“He’d missed my birthday and he was so upset about it, so I decided to go visit him instead. The cookies I’d brought with me were magical,” She can feel her lips twitching into a smile. “It was my mother’s recipe. You take a bite of the cookie and you’d be filled with warmth and affection if you were in love with someone, and it was even sweeter if they were in love with you back. It was a winter delicacy we crafted in the bakery to keep customers from feeling too lonely during the cold season— everyone loved the batches. Very few people thought we were selling plain biscuits.”

Chat listens to every word, resting a hand against his cheek up against the sofa. “You gave him one.”

“I did,” She laughs, thinking about how her friend’s face had transformed the moment he bit into one. “I had no idea that the cookies were magical. I think you’ll get a kick out of this one, Chat— the cookies are made with clover honey, magically transformed to just be lover honey.”

“Oh, how wonderful! Wordplay is such a good way to make a joke— I’m sad I wasn’t the one to think of it.” But he grins anyway. Two perfectly sharp and perfectly deadly rows of teeth completely visible to her via the fireplace and the green Chat Noir flames. “Would you be able to make some? Do they really taste like honey?”

“They’re very sweet— of course, I can make some,” She agrees easily, giving him a smile of her own. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had this recipe, too, but they taste just as good as honeycomb. It would be nice to eat it with you.”

She wonders if he’ll feel anything when he bites into it. How will he react when he finds out that the cookie is sweet from a mysterious someone being in love with him?

She wonders if she’ll be able to hide the affection when she bites into it. After all, she— she loves him. It’s hard to hide something like that.

“Would you seriously come in through the window?”

“Yes. It was big enough for me to climb through— he lived on the second story, but the apple tree just outside his window was old enough and I was young enough that the branches wouldn’t sway too hard when I climbed them.” She can’t stop her quiet laughter, thinking of how her boots would sometimes snag against an apple or two and knock to the grass below. She always made sure to collect whatever fruit had fallen when she left, making sure that there was no indication that she’d been there to begin with. “His father prohibited visitors. Adrien was there alone for days if no one showed up to greet him. There were maids that took care of him and fed him— bathed him— but no one to stay with him. His father had turned our friends away when we’d tried to see him, and none of our friends were brave enough to try sneaking in except me. Besides, I was the smallest one who could climb the tree without breaking the limbs, so I don’t blame our friends.”

“A ladder? A flying spell?” Chat tilts his head, bewildered. “Surely you tried?”

“Of course we had,” She tries not to shutter at the memory of them being caught by the groundkeeper, a giant ladder in their hands as they tried marching towards Adrien’s window with something so heavy, and how the old man had attempted to console them with an apologetic no. “But we were too young for any of the more elaborate plans.”

Chat’s ears flatten in sympathy. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard on you all.”

“It was a little bit. I would sneak in anything I could through that window, too, bringing him food and gifts from our friends.” She shoulders into the couch pillow, trying to get comfortable. “Nino would write him so many letters that my bag was swollen with them, they all would burst out of my bag the moment I tried to pull one out. Adrien cherished every single one with such care. I would read the letters to him when his hands were too weak to break the seal, and I’d add little bits of stories here and there to give it more of a flare.”

“What would you add?”

“Nino didn’t always write down the whole story, simply because he thinks we live in his head. You’ve noticed it when he’ll try to mention there’s something happening at his house, but completely forget to actually invite us?” She smiles when Chat Noir nods with exasperation to her words. “My point exactly. Even as a young boy he’d do it too. So I’d try to fill in the gaps when he didn’t explain something correctly, assuming that I’d been there for the story he was telling.”

Chat Noir’s laughter is a friendly one as he thinks about his best friend.

“You know, Nino told us a bit about Adrien, when he’d tried to get drunk with me and Luka that one night,” Chat rolls his eyes when Marinette groans at the memory.

“Tikki, don’t remind me. What a mistake that was.”

“Nino just wanted to try something new.”

Boy did he.

A drunk naga she could handle— even as she’d been squeezed by the man’s thick tail as he’d drunkenly sang to her, claiming that she was the stars and the moon that guides his ocean currents, all of it was fine. Habitable, even. Luka had rather kept her listening to his songs the whole night— and if had been just drunk Nino and drunk Luka she’d been with, she’s certain she would’ve been listening to the two of them howling into the night, drunk off their minds, singing their hearts out.

But she hadn’t been prepared to deal with a drunk Chat Noir.

There was fire everywhere.

Even with Luka’s— albeit drunk— flooding spells to quench the charred earth, and her containment spells to keep the fire from spreading, Nino had somehow gotten caught in the crossfire between the two other beings by mentioning a wrestling competition— she would’ve laughed at the memory if it hadn’t been so dangerous.

Chat Noir’s teeth aren’t the only dangerous ones— Luka had drunkenly admitted to having venomous fangs, claiming that a human would drop on a dime if he bit them. She’s still not sure if he had been bluffing or telling the truth, but hadn’t been able to consider the validity of his claims when Chat had already agreed to wrestle him to the ground.

The two of them were monsters. Literally and figuratively. Even with a tail that spans an entire side of a house, with a weight that is likely to crush standard carriages, Chat Noir had been able to wrestle a whole coil and a half off of his own body like he’d been fighting his equal.

There was so much drunken snarling. So much biting. So much demonic howling— so much naga hissing— so much of Nino laughing at the sight of two creatures fighting. She had to tend to so, so many bites at the end of that night.

She counts her blessings every day that Alix hadn’t been put into the mix, because she’d been out of town.

If a drunk naga and a drunk demon had been difficult, she can’t begin to imagine the damage that would’ve been created if a drunk witch with a tendency to literally fan flames with her wind magic had joined the party.

Every blessing. Marinette is thankful for every blessing.

“It wasn’t all that bad.” Chat’s laughter fills the living room.

“You’re not the one who had to tend to a wounded— and drunk— demon.” She laughs with him, despite rolling her eyes. “And then had to keep that drunk demon from throwing another fight when also trying to heal a wounded— and also drunk— naga. Was it necessary to bite him on the tail?”

“Yes. If he had been truly concerned of not being bitten, maybe he’d have legs like the rest of us.” Chat’s diamond eyes glitter wide and wonderful as she giggles. “Only the weak have a huge tail instead of legs.”

“Please don’t say that to him in front of his face,” She can’t stop laughing, holding onto her sides from humor. “At least when you two are drunk, you two don’t have enough coordination to actually kill each other.”

“I can’t die,” He shrugs, a wicked look on his face. His look isn’t sinister, but it’s certainly an excited one. “At least, as far as I’m aware. Luka’s the only one who’s in danger. If he picks a fight with me, he knows that I won’t be able to lose.”

“You’re horrible,” She swats at him, trying not to feel so upset at the thought of Chat Noir being an unkillable demon. Idiot, idiot, of course he wouldn’t age like her. And of course he wouldn’t live such a short life just like her. Even if she’d wanted him to be with her like a normal relationship, something that they can’t have— Chat Noir is practically ageless compared to the creatures that live on Earth. “He’s a good guy. Don’t you dare hurt him irreparably.”

“Oh, no, you’re absolutely right— Luka’s great. I love the guy. If I didn’t consider Nino to be my best friend, I’d absolutely consider Luka being my best mate.” He crosses his arms over his chest. She tries not to snort and laugh at him refusing to call Luka a friend. “I’ve never met someone who can take a hit from me as well as him. And then proceed to get back up and hit just as hard. I can still feel that punch he’d landed on my jaw.”

“Is it not because you didn’t let me heal you that time, claiming you wanted to keep it as a souvenir of the day you got your butt kicked by a non-demon?” Her face goes a bit flat with sarcasm. When he doesn’t reply, just giving her a little quirk of his mouth, she falls into giggles. “You two are going to end up hurting each other really badly one day. More than just face punches. Why can’t you just hang out together without throwing fists?”

“Please. I’m a demon of honor— I am not going to lose to a noodle in anything.”

“A noodle?” She hides her mouth behind her hands, trying her hardest not to burst out laughing again.

“Fine, a buff noodle.”

“A noodle,” She parrots, wheezing behind her hands.

“I won’t lose to him in any of our competitions. And that includes fishing, thank you.” He grins.

“Trust in my familiar to try to win in a fishing competition against a sea serpent.” She rolls her eyes. She rolls them extra hard when his tail twitches at the word familiar. He always finds the word a bit insulting to his demon status, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s a little black cat on her shoulder while she walks through town. “You know he has a literal advantage against you? The same way you have the advantage of hunting in forests? He doesn’t blend in very well against trees, given that he’s from the sea, but at least he can still hunt on land. You’re just useless hunting in water.”

He shakes his head. “Hey! I can hunt in water! Just because I don’t like doing it doesn’t mean I can’t. Besides, don’t buy into his lies, Princess. He’s just a snake, not a dragon. Sea serpents are dragons, and no matter what Luka says, I don’t see any dragon scales on him. Just snake scales. Dragons don’t produce snake oil for spells.”

“I’m well aware. I studied lots of spells, you know,” She snickers. “Even after Adrien passed away, all I did was read and read. All I could think about was reading more spells and mastering them. I’m not considered Ladybug for no reason, Chat. Handpicked by your own supposed ‘mother’. Surely you would’ve known the process, assuming she really is your mother?”

She didn’t mean to switch the conversation back to her, but Chat at least looks relaxed on his side of the couch, so she can’t feel too bad. “Oh, don’t worry. I remember it. My mom spent days reading over your ‘resume’. Went through your entire record. Every spell you’d performed, every spell you would perform in the future— she read all of it. Guess you were a good fit after all. I’m glad she picked you.”

Something in her slows down. Maybe she can entertain the idea that Chat Noir is telling the truth about his parents for a little while. “She really read all of it?”

“Extensively.” There’s a little twitch at the sides of his mouth, but he’s still playing for humor. “She leaves hell for months at a time and comes back with a scroll the size of the dining table. Reading it, pouring over it, practically ignoring me— her favorite son— for a piece of paper. Obviously she has work to do, I’m not actually blaming her. It was just a little funny to try to get my mom’s attention and she was distracted for the first time ever.”

“So she knows,” She frowns a little bit. “She knows about the miraculous cure that I’m— we— are going to attempt.”

“I’m sure she does.” Chat’s ears twitch as if he’s picking up on what she’s saying in between the lines. “I mean, she knows every spell you’ll ever cast, since you’re her prodigy. Just as my dad knows every spell I’ll ever cast, since I’m his. Although something tells me he’s never read any of it and just lets me go like a loose canon.”

The thought of literally taking a leash off of Chat Noir and him hopping through a portal funny enough that the frown on her face flickers. “Is Plagg really like that?”

“Sometimes. Hard to believe he’s my father figure, from the way he acts.” He snickers, but keeps his face as even as possible, trying to match her. “But he’s the one I spent most of my time with, and I know that he loves me. I couldn’t imagine being without a dad like that.”

The great Chat Noir. Friend, familiar, demon who owns her heart and soul, bonding with a god as old as time and calling him dad. It’s strange— most of it is, whenever he talks about his life away from the contract on his chest that binds him to the Earth for a little while longer. Does he miss home? His family? He’ll live for a long, long time— and gods don’t die— so it won’t be like he’s potentially missing out on seeing them again— but it’s the principle, isn’t it? Does he miss his home?

“What about Adrien? Was Adrien’s dad like that?”

She falters. “No. Gabriel was never kind to Adrien, even before the illness.”

“Oh.” There’s pain in Chat Noir’s diamond eyes. “I’m sorry for him.”

Adrien deserved to have a loving family, too.

“Adrien always chalked it up to grief. They’d lost his mother a year prior from me meeting him for the first time— it always sounded like that his mother passing away was the reason for the abuse. I don’t think his father visited Adrien once in the time that he’d been bedridden.”

“His father really did that to him?”

“It was horrible, but— yes. Like I said, Adrien would’ve been alone for most of that time if it weren’t for me. He told me that he never had the strength to eat anything anymore, he was so weak, but always made the exception to eat the lover-honey cookies I brought him. It helped that they were soft— there wasn’t a crunch to them. It was good on his decaying strength— I couldn’t show up without at least one. He deserved to feel love, if he couldn’t feel it from his own father.”

“He must’ve loved someone a lot.” Chat adds privately.

“I think he did,” She looks down to her hands. She smooths out her shift, just for something to do. “I think he really did.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The face he would make when eating it, my goodness— I wish I could’ve seen that face on him forever. We would play Princess and the Knight a lot— I was the knight, of course, who had to climb up Rapunzel’s tower via a tree outside his window in order to get to him— or to awaken the Sleeping Beauty from his sleep after slaying the dragon.”

“Of course,” He smiles.

“I’d use magic to create illusions of a beastly animal that I would slay— my illusions spells have never been as good as yours, but I think they did the job. In the end, I’d give him a piece of the lover-honey cookie in order to wake Sleeping Beauty up, and his face would just brighten so much.”

“Isn’t the legend that Sleeping Beauty is awoken by a kiss?” Chat’s face scrunches in quiet humor. “Or were you afraid of making it awkward?”

“We were children,” She muses, but a blush stains her cheeks. “I— I didn’t— we were friends. I loved him, I did— but I wasn’t going to push him to make a decision he couldn’t make while sick. He never said anything about it, either. Besides, the cookie was more than enough to get him to smile and be happy, even if it was for a little while— that was enough for me.”

“Was it?” There’s something painful in his eyes when she looks back up to him.

She fists her shift between her fingers.

“I prayed to Tikki every night. Begging her, pleading that she’d give me more time with him— I also begged her to let him have enough time to be able to tell the truth to the person he loved. Goodness, I even started to pray to Plagg, hoping for a miracle of some kind that he’d hear me. Imagine that, a little Ladybug praying to a different god, just in hopes for a miracle.”

“I don’t think he minded it.” Chat’s voice is soft. “He loves Tikki, after all. I don’t think he minded hearing a prayer from a Ladybug.”

“I— I knew that his sickness was incurable, I knew that— but— maybe he could find just a bit of happiness— if a god had just heard— maybe—”

“You did okay.” She glances back up to Chat with wide, watering eyes. She can’t see him from the amount of tears she’s producing— his fist and claws are so gentle around her wrists as he gently tries to pull her hands off her shift. “You did all you could, Marinette.”

“But it wasn’t enough—”

“Marinette—”

“Adrien— he— he never got the chance to tell them. Whoever it was— they never got to hear it. That’s why I want him back, Chat— I want him to get the chance to tell the person he loves the truth.” Her breath turns ragged, hard, aching in her chest. “This has never been about me wanting to tell him— that isn’t why I want him back. I want him to have the choice— I want Adrien to be able to live and breathe and be happy and never be in pain ever again. My friend didn’t deserve what happened to him. I never even got to say goodbye to him, Chat.”

“You did everything you could— and everything you did helped him.” At what point in the night had he gotten closer to her? Or had she moved on the couch closer to him without realizing? “Adrien knew that. He knew that you were doing your best. Spending time with you must’ve been the only thing he cared about, you know.”

Her cries break her voice. “I— I showed up one day. My bag was so full of Nino’s letters. So full of cookies.”

Why does he look at her with such sad eyes? “Princess. It’s okay.”

“He wasn’t there.” She squeezes her eyes shut to the point it hurts. “He’d— he’d passed away the night before, I think. Sunshine in a boy. Gone. His room was completely— completely empty.”

“Marinette,”

“He was— he— he was totally gone. His father never mentioned anything to any of us. There was nothing. No— no funeral— not even a word.”

The demonic seals on her earlobes burn bright and painful as she continues to cry, and she can’t help herself as she presses her face where she can see the same seal glowing on Chat Noir’s chest, bright enough to light up under his night shirt.

“It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.” His claws go through her unbound hair. “He’s going to be able to tell the person he loves. We’re going to get him to, I promise you. And you, my dearest little witch, are going to be able to tell him, too. I promise.”

His heartbeat is loud— gentle— soothing as she presses her ear onto his chest and listens, curling into his arms, tucking herself close as she cries.

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#fire lily au #marichatmay2021 #marichat may 2021 #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #marichat fic #witch marinette au #demon chat noir au #fragileizyadrienette

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

How about some eventual snuggling with Kili who used to tease human!reader for not having her first kiss yet? I just love the way you portray the brothers in your writing, it always makes me smile 💘

I'm sorry this took so long, I've been lacking motivation to write since I hurt my hands but I got this out! I hope you like it!

You never understood why people care so much about others romantic experiences when they're not even interested in the first place. 

It literally makes no sense. 

What does it matter that you've never kissed anyone? Or been in a relationship? 

A conquest is how you've been seen in the past. Like a goal that people are working towards over something so stupid.

What do they even gain from getting a kiss from you anyways? Another roll of innocence on their belt? Bragging rights? 

Whatever. 

I mean really, it shouldn't matter at all; and in this particular group of dwarfs you thought it wouldn't matter at all, and for the most part it doesn't. However, while your first kiss may not be a conquest, it certainly is the topic of a lot of teasing. 

Specifically from Fili and Kili.

Double specifically from Kili. 

It was just a casual conversation like any other when the topic came up, the two brothers discussing how awkward their first kisses were since they had given up their first kisses to the same girl. 

"I know, I know. It sounds unbelievable but it's true!" Kili exclaims between laughter, nudging his brother in the side while you join in with giggles of your own. "And do you want to know what happened after we kissed?" 

"What?" You ask eagerly, practically on the edge of your seat. This story is just too good. 

"She called me Fili! She had us completely mixed up with one another and it then dawned on me that she hadn't said my name the entire night." He looks indignant and tries to feign shock, though the big smile on his face gives him away. "I'm completely certain that she forgot if I was Fili or Kili, and then panicked and guessed at the last moment. It was mortifying." 

You gasp dramatically and look over at the blond-haired brother who is watching on with amusement in his eyes, though he isn't laughing as much as you or his brother. "And what about you?" 

"Me? Well, she kissed me afterward and didn't bother to tell me that she had been snogging my brother only a few hours-" 

"A few hours? " Once more you're left shocked- this is better than any soap opera- and you look at him with wide eyes. 

"I know! I had no idea. And when I returned home later and Kili told me what happened, I nearly lost it." He shakes his head after he finishes speaking and crosses his arms over his chest.

You reach up and scratch at your cheek lightly, pressing a bit further, "What did you guys do about it?" 

They exchange a glance as smiles creep up onto their faces, and right away you know they did something no so kind. 

"Well, the next time she asked me to join her for an outing," Fili begins, a smirk creeping up onto his face, "I invited Kili along." 

"Oh, her face when she saw the both of us together. Once we approached her she looked like a deer caught drinking by a hunter, I tell you! And then Fili said-"

"I said, 'Oh, Elora! I hope you don't mind but I brought my brother, Kili, along since I wanted him to meet you.' And then she looked absolutely horrified." 

You place your hand on your face and look at him with wide eyes, asking very energetically, "W-Wait so you brought along your brother, who she also kissed, _and _indirectly told her she said the wrong brothers name?"

"That's exactly what I did, and she looked none too happy about it. She started yelling at us for being horrible and tricking her." Fili sighs and shakes his head as if he's disappointed just thinking about it. "She looked positively foolish." 

"What an awful way to lose your first kiss- because that certainly does sound like a loss." You look at them sympathetically despite the humor of the memory, knowing that it must've been much less pleasant at the time. 

Kili shrugs his shoulders indifferently, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, "Well, we're not bothered by it anymore anyways." 

"It's your turn to share." Fili urges as his humorous demeanor becomes much more expectant. 

You frown deeply at his call for your story, but, unfortunately for them, you don't have one. "I've never kissed anyone, so I've no embarrassing story to give." 

A moment of silence passes by where they just look at you before Kili asks incredulously, "You've never been kissed?" 

"No..." You suddenly feel a bit nervous, glancing away shyly. "Not everyone has been, you know. Surely it isn't that surprising to you." You're grumbling more than speaking at this point, hoping more than anything that they'll just drop it since it isn't a big deal. 

A smile curls onto Kili's lips and the tease leaves his mouth before he can stop himself, "Certainly there must be some sort of mistake! Our brave, adventurous, Y/N has never kissed anyone?" 

In contrast to Kili, a scowl works its way onto your face and you look away pointedly, "What does it matter?" 

"Oh, well it doesn't matter much...," he trails off as that same mischievous smile stays on his face, and then he continues, "You're even softer and sweeter than I thought!"

"How does that make me soft or sweet?" You ask incredulously, half-hearted disgust twisting your features. 

"It just does." Fili chimes in suddenly, earning a glare from you. 

A heavy sigh leaves you and you flop down onto your back, avoiding looking at both of them, "Oh, you too? You're both incorrigible." 

All they do is laugh in response. 

You got an awful lot of teasing from those two after you let that slip (it wasn't actually a slip up but whatever), but eventually the jokes and jabs died down and became less frequent, though they didn't stop altogether in the slightest. 

Some of their jokes ended up being kinda funny too, surprisingly enough, though that doesn't mean you disliked it any less. 

And there's also the thing with liking all the attention you've been getting from Kili- even if it is attention derived from being made fun of. 

Also, there's the fact that a few of Kili's jabs included things like being willing to teach you a thing or two about kissing... Oh, even thinking about it makes you embarrassed. 

You can feel your face heating up upon the thought of his recent behavior, and you chance a quick look around to see if anyone is looking at you and, luckily, find that nobody is paying attention to you. 

Thank god. 

A moment or so passes and the raging heat of your face cools, and then you dispel all thoughts of this from your mind. 

You take a deep breath and lay back into your bedroll and pulling your blanket over you, looking up at the sky with a slight pout on your face. 

A chill runs down your spine in unison with a strong gust of wind that breezes by, and, instinctively, you reach up and wrap your arms around yourself. It's a cold night, but you'll be able to manage as long as you bundle up properly. 

"Y/N? Are you cold?" A voice pipes up from your left suddenly. 

You turn toward the voice and see Kili sitting with his back propped up against the trunk of one of the trees in the clearing, one of his eyebrows raised while he smokes from the dreadful pipe. 

"Just a little bit." You mumble, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders and sitting back up so you can look at him full on. "Are you going to sleep soon?" 

"Yes..." He trails off and looks like he wants to say something else, and right away you're on guard. 

"If you're thinking of more ways to tease me, then I won't speak to you at all tomorrow." 

A smirk curls at the corners of his lips and he laughs heartily, shaking his head along while speaking, "I was not planning on it. Have I really tormented you so much that you expect it now?" 

Uh, duh. 

You nod your head vigorously and glare right at him, "Yes. And you know it, too." 

The dark-haired dwarf laughs some more and shrugs his shoulders, placing his pipe down and crossing his arms across his chest. "Fair." 

"Is that all?" 

He doesn't say anything right away and instead looks at you silently for a bit, seeming to debate something internally before he gestures for you to come over to him. 

You, of course, just look at him blankly for a moment, eyes narrowing a fraction with clear distrust, "What?" 

"You said that you are cold." 

"And?" 

"I'm offering up a solution." 

Once more you say nothing and just look at him, thus causing him to sigh heavily. 

"Come on now, I'm only trying to be nice," he pauses, then adds, "I promise not to tease you." 

"How do I know I can trust you?" 

"You'll just have to try." 

The sourness does not leave your face while the two of you engage in some sort of stare down, a battle of wills, but when another shudder runs through you, you know that you're just gonna have to concede. 

And I mean, it's not like you don't want to be close to him or anything like that, but there's still that little bit of suspicion whispering in your ear...

Oh well. 

You sigh heavily and resign your hesitance in favor of crawling over to him, not removing your blanket or being particularly quick, and once you're next to him you settle and pull your blanket tighter around your shoulders. 

"Okay, I'm here." 

He wraps his arm around your shoulders right away and pulls you into him, laughing lightly at your hesitance since he really does find it to be rather cute. "Come on now, it's only me." 

"I know..." You grumble, leaning into him comfortably and wrapping one of your arms around his waist, less skittishly this time around. "You're always bothering me, though, so I never know what to expect." 

Fair. 

He only smiles and doesn't reply, looking ahead and just getting more comfy himself. 

The change in temperature is almost instant, and right away you know that you don't want to be anywhere else. 

You slide down further and stretch your legs out in front of you, sighing contently while you look at the flickering and orange fire ahead. The air is still cold of course, but it feels so much better with someone holding you. 

Kili unconsciously smiles when you snuggle up further into him, pulling you over so your head can rest against his shoulder which you appreciate greatly. 

You're practically laying on him now, but if he's uncomfortable at all then he definitely isn't showing it. 

You aren'y quite sure when your eyes began to droop or your body began to completely relax, but very soon were you on the verge of sleep, tipping just over the edge of rest as he held you so comfortingly and remained as still as he possibly could - which you are very grateful for. 

At one point you vaguely register movement beside you and, when you begin to stir, a soft whisper telling you that everything's fine and that you should go back to sleep, and not long after that are you completely whisked away into dream land. 

Kili had elected to lay down and bring you with him once he got tired, and, instead of sending you off to your own bedroll, he just held you a bit tighter and looked up at the sky for a little bit while he waited for sleep to overcome him as well (that ended up taking a bit longer than he thought it would, for he was entranced in your peaceful expression and the soft breaths fanning out across his chest). 

Right before he falls asleep himself he leans down and presses a delicate kiss to your forehead, smiling tiredly when your nose twitches. 

And then he too falls into the depths of sleep. 

#kili durin #kili x reader #kili fic #kili #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #fluff #request #answer #sorry its so late #reader insert #reader

[barsformars]

Ice Cream

//

g - fluff, comfort

p - bestie!jongho × reader

w.c - 2.8k

t.w - food mention

c - jongho is never one to have sugar cravings, but for you, maybe he could do with an ice cream or two. and oh? you want donuts too? he could do that too.

a.n - something sweet for our gummy bear 💕 jdjsjs the ending do be a little rushed but ay

//

playlist 🍦

- ice cream by oceanfromtheblue

- yellow hearts by ant saunders, audrey mika

- candy by baekhyun

[ 쫑 🐻 ] im at the food court

Swallowing a sigh, you slid your phone back into your pocket before adjusting the backpack that was slipping from your right shoulder. Your left was already occupied with a canvas tote bag used for your laptop and thicker lecture notes. Look, it wasn't that you didn't want to meet Jongho. It's just that you had a really draining week — mentally, emotionally and physically. And every step you took was made heavier with the countless things you had to bring to school today. The humidity and the heat didn't help at all; even now in the evening, it wasn't that much cooler. God, you can't wait for autumn to arrive.

You got off the escalator and dragged your feet towards the food court, mentally hoping that it wouldn't be crowded. It always is during dinner times on weekdays, Friday excluded, with most office workers looking for a cheap yet nutritional meal. And for the first time this week, life was treating you right because apart from a few tables of young adults and teenagers, the food court was pretty much empty. This meant that you didn't have to search high and low for Jongho, not that it was very hard in the first place.

Jongho was wearing a black cap, an oversized black crew neck tee with black sweatpants and black boots so heavy you sometimes wonder how he even dances in them. You know, the usual 'celebrity in disguise' outfit. You can't tell if he's standing out from the rest because of how ridiculously covered up he is or because his black face mask was the only thing that wasn't branded.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Cha extended the lecture," you apologised as you set your bags on an extra chair, finally relieving yourself of the heavy load.

"It's fine," Jongho said cautiously, studying your facial expression and body language. It didn't seem like it was a good time for banters. "I have plenty of time anyways."

"Any idea what you wanna eat?" Your best friend asked, to which you shook your head in response to. There were a wide array of cuisines and food for you to choose from, but frankly you didn't have the appetite. This earned you a concerned frown from Jongho, food was always the best way to cheer you up. Yet here you were, not interested in anything the food court offered. Whatever's bothering you this time round must be really serious. He made a mental note to ask later on if you want to talk about it, but for now he's just going to make a suggestion for dinner. "I'm in the mood for makguksu, the weather is pretty gross these days. What about you?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Jongho gave you a tight lipped smile as he silently cheered for his own little 'victory', he only suggested that because he had wanted you to eat something cooling. Surely it would help you relieve some stress and negative feelings.

"Alright, I'll go order." You gave him a nod of acknowledgement and muttered a 'thanks' as he stood up to go to the front counter.

As soon as Jongho left the table, you pulled out your phone again, which maybe you shouldn't have because you physically felt your facial expressions drop even further than you thought was possible. You pressed on the message notifications and stared at your screen for a good minute, not knowing how to go on from here. Flipping your screen down onto the table, you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, letting a hefty sigh escape from your chapped lips. You didn't want Jongho to see you like this, idol life was exhausting as it was and he didn't need something else to worry about. But you couldn't bring yourself to sit back up and pretend that you weren't about to burst into tears any moment now. You can only hope he doesn't turn back to look at you now.

"School's been tiring, huh?" Jongho stroked your back gently when he came back with the receipt and order number, and you wished you could stay like that for a little while more but you forced yourself to get back up.

"What's new?" You gave a half shrug and a faint smile. Jongho can't believe you think he would buy that but he doesn't press further, only humming in agreement. But even that alone was enough to bring the tears out again, and you had to turn away for a second to blink them away. You felt so pathetic.

"Oh, the food's ready. That was fast," Jongho lied so that you could have the privacy and space you needed right now, even if it's only for a little while. No words could ever express how grateful you are for your best friend, how he always knew how to read the room so well and act accordingly. It was no wonder his members always brag that their youngest in the team was so mature and reliable.

You took the few minutes you had alone to hold yourself together, telling yourself to push everything to the back of your head for now and to just enjoy dinner with Jongho. It wasn't an everyday occurrence that you could meet him, and you weren't going to let your bad mood ruin it. This was what Jongho admired about you, how you're always able to put up a strong front. He learnt it from you, but he wishes you would learn from him too, to let your walls down comfortably whenever you're with him.

"Let's eat, honeycomb," Jongho said affectionately as he set the two trays on the table. Honeycomb was a nickname Jongho had given you because he said you had a sweeter tooth than all his other members, which was kind of scary to hear but you couldn't disagree. At least you knew better than to indulge in sugary foods all the time.

You picked up the chopsticks and stirred your noodles sloppily, not quite feeling like eating it. Recalling the meals you've had this week, you only ever manage to down a quarter of the food, and even after that you still feel so nauseous. Not eating might save you from that horrible feeling for the rest of your time with Jongho tonight.

"Here, take my bowl. I already mixed it well." Jongho lifted your hand up so that he could trade bowls with you before you could even reject his offer kindly. You knew he was doing that as a way to tell you to eat up.

You stared at him with a pout on your face, not knowing whether to thank him for being so caring or to hate him for being too caring.

"What? I already mixed it for you, you want me to feed you too?" Jongho teased now that your eyes weren't as dim as before. "Come on, eat up."

"I will, if we can get ice cream later," you bargained, hit with the sugar cravings again when Jongho called you by your nickname.

"Sure, I'm craving some too," he agreed, much to your surprise. He was never one to crave ice cream, always saying that it was too sweet. In fact, Jongho never let you get it either, knowing that you would go overboard with the sugar by picking the sweetest flavours. And even if he did, he would just sit and watch you eat, which was a total mood killer for you because you felt like you were wasting his time.

"You better not be lying just t-"

"You're such a baby," Jongho sighed with his gummy smile plastered on his face, shaking his head in disbelief as you extended your pinky finger out. "I promise," he said as he linked his finger to yours.

With that, you forced yourself to take mouthfuls of the noodle. If not for the taste, at least do it to stay alive, was your rationale. Jongho smiled to himself proudly as he watched you eat, slightly more relieved now though it still broke his heart to see the faint smiles instead of the usual ugly laughter at his lame jokes. On top of that, Jongho was used to you ranting about your struggles over meals or phone calls but it seemed like you still needed some time before you were ready to talk about it this time round. But it's okay, he will wait patiently for you as long as you're still looking after yourself well.

After dinner, you both found yourself gawking at the 31 different flavours on display at your favourite franchise ice cream place. It was basically heaven on earth, your favourite flavours calling out to you to pick them. But how do you choose when there's 10 you want and only-

"How many scoops are you getting?"

"Hmm." Jongho thought for a moment before turning to you, replying, "I think I'm going to get two."

"Two!?" You exclaimed, your eyes widening in surprise, though internally glad because now you can get three scoops for yourself without looking too insane. "Don't you have a schedule tomorrow? What if your throat hurts?"

"It's fine," Jongho assured, going straight to ordering two scoops of coffee flavoured ice cream as you resorted to using 'meeny miny moe" to choose your three flavours.

Walking out of the store with your ice cream cones, you turned to look at Jongho, your eyes narrowed. You were too occupied with choosing your ice cream earlier on to judge Jongho for his sudden sugar cravings, but now that you think about it, it's really odd. Was he really not lying just to get you to eat your dinner then?

"Keep your eyes on your ice cream before it falls," Jongho pointed to your dessert with the hand that was carrying your tote bag, chuckling softly at the memory of that one time your ice cream tipped over because of the strong wind. You didn't think Jongho would remember that, it was such an insignificant and distant memory. Not to him though, he found you really adorable when you were pouting about your fallen ice cream and demanding he treats you to another one.

"Don't swing the bag like that, my laptop is in it!"

"Yes, honeycomb." Jongho stuck out his tongue at you before going in to lick his ice cream. He made sure to hide the cringe in his face at the sheer sweetness of the dessert, not wanting you to feel bad for 'forcing' him to eat it. If even his coffee flavour was this sweet, he doesn't want to imagine how sweet your choice of bubblegum, raspberry and caramel would be.

Jongho's always fascinated when he sees you eating sweet food. Most people he knows, even his members with a sweet tooth, would need a glass of water after eating sugary stuff. Some of them would even comment that it was too sweet sometimes. Yet when it comes to you, you could go on and on without a single complaint, and you never ask for water. And with every bite came a slightly brighter smile from you, a soft squeal and the shaking of clenched fists at chest level. Does sugar really make you that happy? If so, he can't help but want to be sickeningly sweet towards you.

"Wait," you said, catching Jongho's attention. He looks at you and you're staring at the donut store in the near distance, and he immediately knows what you want to hear.

"Should we get donuts?" The both of you suggested in unison, further surprising you because the Jongho you knew would be strongly against getting another dessert right after one. But before you could question him about his weird behaviour today, Jongho's already pulling you towards the store.

"We'll get the box of 6," Jongho told the staff, almost causing you to shout at him out loud.

"Are you crazy?" You whisper-shouted at him, tugging at his arm. "How are we supposed to finish it?"

"I don't know, but I want more than one so…."

"Okay….." you glanced at him suspiciously before he rushed you to pick three flavours for yourself. You could look past the ice cream cravings but now donuts? It was definitely not like Jongho to be so into sugar, he's literally someone who drinks their coffee black.

If you had to be honest, you were starting to get a little worried. Was he getting very stressed out while preparing for their next album? You can only imagine the pressure the boy had to bear at such a young age as the main vocalist of a rising boy group. But then again, eating so much sugar in one sitting must not be very good for his vocals.

"Your throat is seriously going to be bad tomorrow," you warned as Jongho reached for an oreo donut from the box laid out on the grass. The both of you had decided to relax and spend the rest of the night at the Han River, which was a good choice because it wasn't very crowded tonight. "Hongjoong's going to scold me for not taking care of you."

"It's fine, really," Jongho giggled as he bit into the donut. Not a good sign, he was probably going to get sugar high if he isn't already.

"You know the other day-" he laughs-"Seonghwa hyung and San hyun were working out and-" he laughs again, harder this time-"and when the-"

You rubbed your temples and sighed, "I need you to put that donut down." And Jongho just laughs hysterically at you for saying that? On one hand, it was nice to see him so carefree, but on the other hand, you really needed him to burn those sugar out or he's going to feel so shitty when he crashes. You shook your head in dismay, standing up from the ground and extending your hand for him to grab onto.

"If you catch me, I'll top up your Starbucks card with 50,000 won." That seemed to spur Jongho on, because he jumped straight up, stretching his body in preparation. Did he want that free money? Yes. But was he about to catch you to get it? No. He just agreed because he knows you need a little exercise too, it would help to relieve the negative emotions if the ice cream didn't already. Perhaps you suggested playing catching for yourself too, and so Jongho will play with you, no questions asked.

You think the both of you probably looked like drunk youngsters in the park being public nuisances with all the gasping for air mixed between the laughters that were more like screams. But it didn't really matter because you were having fun, for the first time in a while. And so was Jongho, he hasn't felt this wild and free since his trainee days. It seems like he can only allow himself to act his age when he's with you. It's been so long that maybe you think it's the ice cream and donuts that were making him this way, but it's you. You were his honeycomb.

"Truce," you panted for air as you let yourself collapse onto the soft grass, patting the space beside you as an invitation for Jongho to come lie down too. "I'm so tired."

"Same here." Jongho lays down on the grass and tilts his head to the side so that he could look at your face. Damn, even all sweaty you still look so good. You could say the same for him.

You wonder if Jongho knows that whenever you're with him, your heart turns to ice cream. You don't know when it started but your heart melts at every thoughtful action he does, and you wish it didn't because you're afraid that he wouldn't reciprocate your feelings. You don't understand why he has to be so warm towards you, it makes you want to be cold. It makes you want to not let your walls down so that you wouldn't get hurt.

"So…." Jongho pauses for a short while, studying your facial expressions before continuing, "you wanna tell me what's going on?"

"It's a long story, and I don't want to spoil this good mood right now," you said, staring up at the night sky. The city lights of Seoul were too bright for the stars to show but it's alright, you were right beside one right now.

"Alright, I'll respect that. But just wanted to let you know, once again, that no matter how long the story is, I'll listen." Jongho reached out to hold your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. It's something the both of you have been doing since the beginning of your 'best friend' phase, and you hate yourself for wishing it meant something more.

"I hate you sometimes," you joked, earning yourself a sad whine from the red haired boy. "Stop being so sweet to me, I'll melt."

"Just melt then, I think I quite like ice cream now."

#kwritersworldnet #kpopuniversenet #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez writings #ateez oneshots #ateez fics #ateez drabbles #ateez blurbs #ateez fic #ateez #ateez fluff #jongho fluff #jongho comfort #jongho

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 8)

Hello! I’ve returned with a new part!! Sorry this took so long to get out, but I had a hard time with the muse for this story. There are some key things that happen in this chapter that I had to get right for later in the story though. I think I got them all, so ENJOY! 

Find the rest of the parts: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

tag list: @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore (here ya go ((: thank you for your interest),  @redqueenetwork(let me know if you want a tag and I’ll add you to the list ((: )

(/Cal/)

I wonder if I will ever stop getting that horrible déjà vu, stomach sinking feeling every time something happens, or if I will just get used to reliving these years. Every moment feels like a knife digging into a wound that spills more blood every time though. At least I’m the one bleeding this time. There are far worse people who will bleed later. 

Even a day spent away from this place feels like an eternity. Every second I waited for something to go wrong, for there to be an obvious deviation from what I can remember. Everything flows perfectly though, leaving me with the uneasy feeling that all of this was just too easy. If there is anything I’ve learned my first time living this, it’s never this easy.

Pacing the dimly lit hallways to my rooms, I feel like I’m looking over my shoulder and around every corner, expecting Elara to be stalking me. Expecting the fluttering of her skirts and the sound of her voice, honey sweet and icy as she says my name. I never did forget the sound of it. 

The safety my room offers is fake though. The cameras are there; I know they are. Or at least, I think they are. I need to bring Mare in here to see if she can sense them. I had turned everything over looking for them, but hadn’t found anything. They could be very carefully hidden though. Closing the door and leaning against it, I take the crown off my head. I forgot how heavy it was, how much it weighed me down. It had been a comfort once upon a time, but I’ve been a man without a crown too long. I don’t need it as armor anymore. It is a weight around my ankles pulling me deeper. I’m terrified of drowning because of it. The only person who could pull me out can’t though. 

The note is waiting for me on my bed, tucked into the folded edge of the sheets.  A Scarlet Guard tactic I had been witness to multiple times. Sometimes, when we stayed in the States, Mare and I would come back from dinner or lunch and there would be a note waiting for her. Tucked into the folds of the sheets. 

This one is not from anyone in the Scarlet Guard. It’s written in Mare’s scratchy handwriting. I tuck it into my jacket pocket and disappear into the closet to read it.

My rooms. 12:30 tonight, don’t be late, we’ll have ten minutes. Take the tunnels. 

My brow raises as I read, before I burn the note to a crisp in my palm. I hadn’t been able to see her for days while I had been at an assembly with my father. I’d kept my ear to the ground about her though. I had half a mind to visit Julian and ask about her. That might give something away though. I can’t risk that. 

What news does she have? It can’t be about Maven. There’s been no word from Maven or Elara, and although I had been careful to avoid prodding too much, I never got anything out of my brother. He was still the carefully masked boy I remembered. Even when we were alone in my rooms he never dropped his mask like he had the day Mare arrived in the palace. I wonder if that slip is the only one I will ever see. He is studying me as much as I am studying him though. Every time I speak with him, I worry that I’ll make a mistake that he will pounce on without me knowing. I talk less and less around him, and I know he notices. I fear our conversations, no matter what form they come in. 

Opening an empty box, I dump the ashes of Mare’s note inside before turning and stripping my jacket off. My door creeks open, and I turn toward the sound. Near silent steps make my heart pound. The light is on in the closet, whoever just entered will have an easy time finding me. 

Edging toward the doorway, I glance out, only to see Maven’s form fold into his usual chair by the window. It’s as if I’ve summoned him from the folds of the shadows. 

It’s late and I have to meet Mare in two hours. We can’t play a game that fast, not if he wants to chat like he always does. I edge out of the closet and his eyes catch sight of my refection in the widow. He drapes an arm over the chair as he turns to look at me and gives me a smile. “I heard you almost gave father heart palpitations this morning when you questioned one of our generals.” 

I purse my lips. News travels faster than I remember here. Shrugging, I cross the room to sink into my chair as well. “There’s nothing wrong with asking in-depth questions.” 

“Since when are you asking questions about missing regiments though?” He tilts his head to the side as he speaks. The warm light dances on his cheek bones. A boy playing in the light, when he prefers the shadows. 

Glancing out the window at the moonless night, I shrug, hiding my discomfort at the thought. “Our people are restless. I noticed a discrepancy. We can’t make mistakes right now.” 

“So a group of Red soldiers goes missing and all the sudden you are digging in the mud for answers about missing taxes, and security protocols in the villages?” Maven huffs at that and slowly begins setting up his side of the table.

I glance down at my own pieces, marveling at the irony of this moment. There are two games of chess starting, one with words and intentions, and another with pieces. “Again, there is nothing wrong with looking into the wellbeing of our people.” 

His eyes dart up to me. “Is this about Mare?”

My stomach curls at how quickly he cuts to the bone of my decisions. He’d always danced around questions like that, never outright asking. Had my digging been too intensive? It’s not like I was stepping on his toes or anything yet. But maybe I was. He was supposed to be the one Mare trusted to change things, not me. I was the one who never understood her ideals.

I had asked about the regiment because I wanted to know how they were finding the new bloods though. I wanted to know how I could find them first and shuttle them to safety. Mare and I hadn’t saved many lives in our time with the Guard. I want to at least try and remedy that. 

“She got me thinking.” I finally admit, as I sit back in my chair to watch his expression. He glances down at my pieces that I haven’t moved yet before picking up his queen piece and turning it over in his fingers. 

You could have been my Red Queen. That’s what he had told her in cells below the Bowl of Bones. Is he already thinking about that? About what she could be to him someday?

“She has a lot of people thinking.” His words a low, a warning and a statement. “The Iral’s have been snooping around.” 

“I’m sure your mother handled that with the grace she handles everything.” I swallow the bitter tone that I want to speak with. I’m supposed to be indifferent to Elara at this point. But every time I see her, my blood boils. She destroyed Mare, and she destroyed my brother before he had the chance to be who he was meant to be. She took him from me and twisted him so much that I had no chance of saving him. 

His shrugs, and gives me a boyish smile he perfected in the mirror years ago. “Mare won’t have to worry as much, as long as she doesn’t slip up.” 

“Is she doing well?” I ask as I finally move my pieces, determined to end our little verbal dance. The tension in his shoulders eases as I do that. Putting his piece back he leans forward and says with a smile that cuts me like a knife because of how gentle it is.

“I think she is.”

(////////)

I knock on the secret door in Mare’s rooms exactly two hours later. I have no idea where it opens too, but I assume it’s the closet because that’s where mine is. It opens a crack almost immediately and I slip inside. She must have been waiting by the door. Her room is completely dark and I reach out blindly with a hand to find her before her hand latches onto my wrist.

She chuckles when I jump and teases with a whisper, “You’re getting sloppy if you didn’t immediately grab me from behind the door.” 

I light a small fire in my other hand, and bring her features into focus in the dark. We’re surrounded by clothes that I make sure to avoid with the flame. This is her closet then. That’s good to know. 

Her hair is unbound, falling to her shoulders in waves that she pushes over her shoulders. Giving me a little smile before dropping my wrist, she says, “light a candle, and we’ll make this quick.” 

She slips away into the shadows of her room before disappearing into the bathroom, her robe cutting across the ground. I follow her out of the closet, keeping my steps quiet like hers. A candle waits on the vanity next to it. In the time it takes for the wick to catch with my fire, I hear her turn every faucet on in the bathroom. 

I follow her in there with the candle. When I glance at the running water in the tub and then the sink, she shrugs. “Precaution. I don’t think there are any listening devices but I don’t want to risk it.” 

“How did you get the cameras off?” I ask quickly, wondering if I might be able to give us time in my rooms too. 

“My secret.” She replies as she steps closer to me so that we’re almost chest to chest. I set the candle down on the edge of the tub in response. When I glower at her, she rolls her eyes. “I wriggled it out of Julian that the guards change stations at 12:30 and the camera room is empty for exactly ten minutes.” 

“That is very, very bad security flaw.” I murmur down to her, as I bow my head to trail my lips along her hairline, inhaling the smell of her shampoo. It’s sweeter than anything she would use normally. She usually smells like oak with a hint of ozone. Now she smells like honey and lilac, it doesn’t really suit her. Her fingers rest on my chest and she whispers, “No time for that. We need to talk about Julian.” 

My blood goes cold at the mention of my uncle. And she pulls away a half step to look up and meet my eye. Her breath is warm on my face as she stands on her toes to speak quickly. “I think we should tell him. He’ll understand, and he’ll be able to help.” 

I almost sag in relief. I thought she was going to tell me that he had figured something out. “That’s one more person that knows what’s going on though, and one more person we have to keep in the loop.” 

As wonderful as it would be to have my uncle involved, he’ll want to get Sara involved too, and soon there would be four of us all trying to hide the same thoughts from Elara. At least if it’s just me and Mare, we can be far enough apart and vary our thoughts enough to keep our secret. 

“I can keep him in the loop during our Lessons. I really think we need him, Cal.” She argues, her fingers closing around mine as she squeezes. I shake my head and gesture between us. 

“And what happens if you tell him and he tells us to run? Or what if he messes something up by trying to do something himself?” 

She turns her eyes away and chews on her lip for a moment, contemplating. We have maybe five minutes left before I have to disappear out of her rooms. We don’t have time to get into a full blown pros and cons argument. 

Reaching out to cup her cheek and turn her head to face me, I whisper, “I want his help as much as you do, but if we tell him, we might risk never finding Giselle. We don’t know what the effects of it could be.” 

Exhaling an irritated sigh through her nose, she grumbles, “You’re probably right. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“You never like it when I’m right.” 

Her lips twist at my words, until she reaches up to rest her hand on mine. In the dim light it’s still hard to read her expression when she asks, “Are you all right?” 

I look away before saying, “Maven came to see me tonight.” 

“Is that out of the ordinary?” Her voice is cold and her eyes are narrowed when I look back at her. Shaking my head in answer, I turn away to run my hand through my hair. “He was asking about something I did earlier today.” 

Her silence is brittle and I tense for only a moment, knowing she will probably drop kick me out a window when she hears what I did. Glancing at her over my shoulder I say, “I was asking about Storm Legion, and about the Reds that were transferred into it.” 

“Shade’s legion?” She murmurs dubiously, her brows scrunching as she thinks over those words. Suddenly they shoot up to her hairline and she spits in furious whisper, “Cal!” 

“I had asked about it the first time too. Just… not as in depth.”

“You just told me we couldn’t bring Julian in on this because we have no idea what effect it might have, but you’re running around willy nilly doing who knows what by asking questions you shouldn’t be!” She shoves her hands into her hair and her fury is enough that the lights in the chandelier overhead flicker to life for a moment. 

“I’m trying to help us later—” 

“While almost getting yourself caught! What were you thinking? Better yet, were you even thinking at all?” 

“You don’t need to talk to me like I’m a child,” I snap. She immediately falls silent, but the anger still flickers in her eyes. She inhales slowly and exhales at the same speed, like she’s buying time. 

Eventually, when I assume she’s calmed down enough not to scream, she asks, “What did you find out?”

“Nothing, no one would tell me anything.” The same thing had happened before. I had been told not to worry about it, that it was just another regiment of soldiers. The same excuses had come out this time too. 

“Stop poking at things you shouldn’t poke at, Cal.” She demands before walking to the candle and picking it up. I watch her movements, trying to read exactly how upset she is. I suppose if she were on the verge of killing me like I thought she would for half a second, she would have called me Tiberias. “You need to go, time’s almost up.” 

“Mare—” 

“Go, Cal. We can’t make another mistake.” 

When we had stayed in Paradise Valley the first time since the end of the war, we had made a promise. We had both agreed that we would never go to bed angry with each other. If something happened to the other the next day, we didn’t want our last memories to be of fighting. It was a good promise; one I didn’t intend to break just because we are back here. 

Drawing myself to my full height, I plant my feet and say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be hypocritical. I was trying to help us later though.” 

Her eyes dance to me for a moment, wary of my apology and my reasoning. She looks away again, her hand tightening around the candle. “I know.” As if those words have the rest of her anger in them, her shoulders drop and her fingers loosen on the candle.

My shoulders relax too, even when she turns quickly to face me again. Her voice is softer this time, but just as forceful. “You don’t need to be such a damn hero. You don’t need to try and right whatever wrongs you committed. You right them eventually, that should be enough.” 

I hadn’t been trying to do that, at least, I didn’t think that had been my intentions. Maybe she was right though. I step closer to her again, sliding my hand around her waist as I guide her out of the bathroom and toward the closet. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

As soon as we step back in the closet, she stands on her toes to press a kiss to my cheek. “Be careful, please. We have... so much waiting for us.” 

She wanted to say something else, I know she did. There’s no time to ask questions though. I’ll have to ask her about it another time. Turning my head to complete the kiss for a heartbeat, I murmur, “No more righting wrongs. I got it.” 

Still her fingers close around my mine as I open the door, and trail along them as I leave, like she is trying to hold on for a long as possible. I wish I could go back through the door once its closed though and crawl into bed with her and pretend that we aren’t here. I wonder if she feels the same way.

(//////////)

The days are monotonous while I wait for the ball. I ease into the schedules and the meetings, keeping my mouth shut like I told Mare I would. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to strangle Volo Samos with my bare hands sometimes though. Or from wanting to argue with my father until we’re both out of breath. Right now is one of those times. 

“Between us, conscription letters might be what gives me early arthritis,” he grumbles, even though I can hear the laughter in his tone. I look up from the papers I’m reading to watch him flex his fingers a few times. The large stack of letters on his other side still waiting to be signed makes my stomach drop. 

“I suppose you could sign less of them.” I murmur before looking back to my papers. I don’t have the patience today to joke about something like that. I’m still nauseous from hearing about another young Red legion that didn’t make it back from the trenches. Fifty eighteen year olds too ill prepared for what waited for them. Even out of the corner of my eye I can see his expression fall. 

I feel like the time that I am spending with him should be a gift, but almost everything he says makes me want to shout him down. I had been just as ignorant too once upon a time. This is the curse I suppose of reliving the past. Sighing, I set my book of numbers down and massage the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry, I’m tired.”

He watched me carefully before saying, “You’re working too hard. If it’s not Shadow Legion, it something else.” 

I work harder someday to fix the mistakes our people made, I want to grumble. I had plenty of sleepless nights after I abdicated. Shaking myself out, I lean back in my chair to avoid meeting his eye. He tilts his head to the side, his expression softening further. “It’ll get easier once we handle this Scarlet Guard and return to Archeon.” 

“I’ll be at the front by that point.” A lie. I never make it there with Shadow Legion. But I do make it to another front. 

“You were always more comfortable there.” He reasons, and reaches for the next letter. The only reason I was so comfortable there was because he had pushed me harder than Maven to be there. Elara would have never let her son go to the front as much as I did. I have a feeling she was hoping a stray bullet with my name on it would embed itself in my skull. It would certainly make her coup easier. Too bad that bullet was never made. 

“Do you think my mother would be happy with that?” I ask finally bringing my eyes back to him. The moment the words are out, I want to swallow them, especially when his eyes shutter and then light with a fire I hadn’t seen in a long time. He sets his pen down and speaks with the dangerously low tone that made me shut up as a kid. “That is a question I don’t have an answer for.” 

Maybe it’s how bitter I am with the whole situation, maybe it’s the fact that I read her diary and know the truth of her desires. But I can’t keep the next words from escaping. “Something tells me she wouldn’t.” 

“Your mother was young. She wasn’t well after you were born.” 

“Funny, Julian says—”

“Is he where all this is coming from?” His voice is quiet thunder, a storm about to break. I was in dangerous territory now. I don’t drop my gaze, but I do pull back into my seat a little bit, giving some ground. He’s a blood hound though, and smells trouble for my mindset. He won’t let it go now. “He’s always been soft about the Red situation. Has he been pushing you to question things that are not your business yet? Has he been speaking to you about treasonous things?”

“No.” I state coolly. I knew Julian and my father had a rough relationship, especially because of Elara. If he is searching for a reason to dismiss Julian entirely I won’t let it come from me. Especially with the safe haven he creates for Mare. Another misstep, another poor choice of words. Mare would kill me if she found out I was the reason she lost her teacher. 

“If he is whispering poison in your ear, I worry for our little Red girl that we have entrusted him with.” His hands curl into fists on the table and his bracelets spark. I swallow, trying to think of the words that will fix this. Why couldn’t I just keep my emotions in check? I was smarter than this. I’d picked the wrong fight and now I was going to have to dig my way out. 

“Julian hasn’t told me anything. I’ve just… I’ve just been thinking about my mother a lot. Leading up to Queenstrial I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I know so little about her.” I’d know about that deal they made since the time I could understand what it had meant. While my father was not the first to marry outside of Queenstrial, he would be the last. Elara would be the last Queen chosen by the ancient rite. 

My words soften the anger that he has barely reigned in, and he slowly sinks into his chair. Shaking his head and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he says, “I’ve told you about her. You know everything I know.” 

Lie, lie, lie. 

I’ve got myself out though, I won’t argue again. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.” 

When he looks up at me this time, his face is more drawn than I remember. There is far more grey in his hair than my nightmares let me remember too. He drunk himself to an early old age. I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t do the same. 

The door into the council room opens once more, announcing the beginning of our next meeting. Maven enters before anyone else, dressed for the event. He looks like a prince, like a king. How could I ever think I could compete with him. He had been right when he told Mare I was a blunt force weapon. I wasn’t Farley, who was good at questioning orders and making decision. I was good at being put on target and used. If this whole series of events didn’t show that, I didn’t know what else did. 

He eyes the two of us carefully, reading the tension in the room as he sits on the other side of our father. He’ll catalogue that away for later, probably to inform his mother that there is something wedging itself between us. Wonderful. I’ve slipped again. I can only hope this doesn’t come to bite me. 

I give him a smile nonetheless though, and he returns it. We play the parts of loving brothers easily. No wonder I believed everything. He’s a good enough actor for both of us. This time at least I know my script, and I know my role. “This tax briefing won’t be easy today.” 

His lips curl up at the challenge. “Are they ever?”

#The Chain #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #my fanfics #my writing #marecal #the eternal ship #we stan one should be married couple trying not to be stupid #and we stan (1) dumbass man that just wants to be a good person #cal calore #mare barrow #maven calore #oh he gets more time dont worry lovelies #once again #I am asking for more Maven and Cal interaction #we get a big time just in the next chapter. #so excited

[readyourimgaines]

Reid’s Allergies

This was an idea @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ and I came up with. The summary is exactly what it says on the tin. Let me know what you think and don’t be afraid to make a request. Also! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for any or all fandoms. 

Side note: The raw honey remedy Rossi gives Reid isn’t nonsense. My uncle was a holistic nutritionist and taught my sisters and I this trick. 

No-one in the BAU was shocked to learn the young Dr. Reid had horrible seasonal allergies. Upon his first year at the BAU, the Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner, thought the poor boy was ill. 

The youngest agent continuously had a tissue, wrapped around his forefinger, pressed under his nose whenever he had to look down. Reid sniffled almost constantly and sneezed every few minutes. After the third sneezing fit, Hotch decided enough was enough. 

“Reid,” he called from the rail above the bullpen, “my office, please.”

Reid was up on his feet, going to his boss’s office and sat when gestured to. He sneezed and wiped his nose with the tissue. “What’s up?”

“You can stay home when you’re ill, Reid. That’s why you have sick days,��� Hotch explained. Gideon had joked about them having to tell Reid about what a vacation was, but he didn’t think he’d need to tell the boy about sick days. 

Reid shook his head. “I’m not-” he sneezed, “sick. It’s just allergies. My meds just haven’t kicked in yet.” The doctor sniffled. “It only takes about a week for antihistamines to work their way into the system.”

“When did you start taking them?” Hotch studied Reid. 

“Monday.” 

It was Wednesday. “Reid, go home. Catch up on sleep.” 

“Hotch, I’m really-” sneeze, “-okay.”

The unit chief sighed. “That wasn’t a question. Go get some rest; play tomorrow by ear. If you aren’t as snuffly, come on back.”

Reid grabbed his satchel and begrudgingly waved to Morgan on his way out.

---

When Reid went back to work the next morning- very early morning seeing as they had a case, he was still just as stuffy-nosed as before. Hotch very nearly sent the boy home. 

Reid was comparing handwriting samples when his nose started to run. He was about to run the cuff of his shirt under his nose when there was suddenly a tissue in his hand. 

He looked at Morgan, who was slipping a plastic sleeve of tissues into his pocket, for a few seconds before he sneezed into this tissue. From then on, Morgan made it a habit to carry tissues with him in case the kid might need them.

II

JJ was in Quantico with Garcia while the rest of the BAU was off helping police in Montana with a missing person’s case. Garcia usually preferred tea after 3:30 in the afternoon. Whenever she started up her electric kettle, she always offered whoever was within earshot if they wanted tea, too. That day, it happened to be JJ.

“I’m going to rinse out my mug. The second drawer to the left- the bottom one- is full of tea. Take your pick.” Garcia ducked out of the room.  

The Tech Analysis wasn’t kidding when she said the drawer was full of tea. Earl Gray, mint, Lady Gray, a couple of herbal seasonal teas. And a sinus relief tea. 

Garcia re-entered her office only to find a rather concerned JJ. 

“Are you coming down with something, Garcia?” the blonde inquired. 

“What? No.” Realization dawned on her when she saw the Yugi box in the Media Liaison’s hand. “Oh! That’s for Reid when his allergies act out. When his allergies are bad, I cut him off after two cups of coffee, but he can have as much Gateriad, water, and tea- herbal tea- as his little doctoral heart desires.

III

When Reid came to work sniffly and red-eyed, Prentiss felt worry for the young doctor. Why didn’t he stay home if he was feeling so poorly?

Garcia came bustling in next and Emily caught up with her. “Hey, Garcia? Does Reid look kinda ill to you?”

“Watery eyes? Sniffling every five seconds?” Garcia was already headed back to her bunker, determination in her step. 

“Yeah…”

The blonde shook her head. “He’s early this year.” 

“What?” Emily followed after her. 

“His allergies are awful. They’re always worse in the fall.” Garcia turned on her electric kettle and got a Dr. Who mug from her tea drawer. 

“Does he take meds for it?” Emily wondered. “My allergies were bad in college and I took an over the counter pill; they were manageable.” 

“No,” Garcia sighed. “He used to, but now he won’t take anything that isn’t prescription and he refuses to go to the hospital unless Hotch makes him- and allergies aren’t deadly or contagious, there’s nothing Hotch can do. Anyway, we help our good doctor teas and endless tissues. Morgan always has tissues for him and JJ has tea in her go-bag.”

---

When Emily went to the store after work, she was sure to buy tissues in the plastic sleeves. She was loaded with the little things. Her blazer pocket, pants pocket, purse, go-bag, and the glove box of her car. 

So Reid was shocked when, the next day when they were at a crime scene, he sneezed and there was a tissue in front of his face when he opened his eyes and the hand wasn’t Morgan’s.

“Oh. Thanks.” He took the tissue and Emily merely nodded.

IV

Rossi had been on the team for a few weeks before he witnessed one of Spencer’s allergy bouts. He couldn’t help but pity the young man. After all, he’d had godforsaken seasonal allergies when he was a teen. 

One day, Reid stepped into the bullpen and saw a jar of honey on his desk- comb and all. Beside the jaw was a note in Rossi’s neat scrawl. It read: Eat half an inch of honey comb twice a day, use the honey in tea or on food. Give two weeks and you’ll never suffer from allergies again. -David Rossi.

Reid smiled to himself and picked up the jar. He opened it and broke off the suggested amount, squishing it lightly between his forefinger and thumb, debating if he’d be able to stomach the texture. He came to the conclusion that never having to deal with allergies again- even the possibility of it- was worth an off-putting texture. 

Morgan was the first to notice the youngest agent stopped putting half a cup of sugar in his coffee and instead opted for three tablespoons of honey. “Trying a new flavor, Pretty Boy?” Morgan asked when he spotted Reid putting the jar of honey back in his desk drawer. 

“It’s a home remedy suggestion from a friend. The honey’s sweeter, so it takes less- to mention the health benefits. Honey has four properties that kill bacteria and because this jar I have is wild honey, it has trace amounts of pollen. That’s why it might help my allergies- it’s like an edible vaccine.”

Tag list: @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood​

#combefere's journal #read your imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #crimainl minds imagine #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner #jj jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia