#sometimes! sometimes he's literally in the same room as them but nobody really acknowledges him (he's okay with this)

[chickensoupleg]

Get ready for me mumbling random plot-ish stuff for no reason. Most of it doesn't make sense.

Okay, so.

Imagine in a version where Billy still moved to Hawkins, everything happened generally, but in the fight Steve somehow won. Or, at the very least, there was no plate involved, Max still horse'd her brother and nearly castrated him.

Except turns out cocking a man full of very much and likely not medically measured Anti-Spy MindFlayer sedatives does things to a man, and it generally just messes a man UP. Man just straight up has mental hallucinations in his Conk Out Time Out.

Regardless, he somehow escapes the Byers home, and just.... straight up disappears? Just went into the woods and nobody has ANY idea where he went. So, essentially, good as dead. The Mayfield-Hargrove house becomes quite tense, Neil still keeping a front but still visibly wired that even Max can notice and tiptoes around before he explodes.

Then Season 3 happens, Neil gets dragged into the Steelworks, possessed, and then later stabbed by the monster. Granted, unlike Billy there's no reasonable way he would protect El in the same manner.

Yeah, sure he doesn't hit Max, but if running under the logic that Billy's been keeping him off of targeting her, then he could have at any point. Especially since here the Flayer is controlling him and Neil might not have any positive protective instincts instilled in him that would give him a reason to fight back.

Well, turns out Billy isn't dead, and turns out he followed everyone to the mall somehow. Or, he's been there this entire time eating hotdogs on a stick while the entire plot went down. I don't know, this isn't fleshed out that deeply, Billy's just there, and he's watching this go down.

And, oh joy, turns out he gets his One Positive Memory kickstart a season earlier. You know, the part where he gets hallucinations. And, apparently, has just been.... Wandering around Hawkins and nobody noticed???? Billy, general heartthrob, has just been around, and somehow his existence was never mentioned to Neil, small town that it is. Turns out Billy can straight up turn off his presence if he really tried, hide in plain sight. Max's warning to stay away from her friends was a promise he adhered to the max. (Hah, get it?)

And, well, said protective instinct told him to barehand beat this massive black mess of melted humans Mind Flayer back, and somehow.... does???

(Mostly because in another room Joyce shuts the gate and severs the connection just a little faster)

And, like. Max is obviously stunned, because here is her step-brother, very much alive and very much injured from wrestling a massive creature that clearly is not meant for this world. Yay, sibling reunion. Neil dies at their feet, and Billy actually feels a little sad at that (He gets no apology, Neil straight up died the moment the Mind Flayer did and Billy was a little preoccupied with Max) but there wasn't much he could do about that.

Well, Billy was still VERY adamant on trying to keep away from Max and her friends as promised, but now that... He's been informally inducted into the Upside Down's general tomfoolery, Max convinces him to stay, especially since obviously they're down a family member.

That was apparently enough for him, and they return home together. Since Billy was work age and had apparently been through a self-reflection redemption arc on his own time, he hopped into helping in the finances of the family, even if they had to downgrade due to Billy having to get through high school again (Being effectively missing for months on end kind of does that to you seriously was this man living in the woods??) and therefore only having a half-time job which meant not as much money that could reasonably split a house on payment.

Something like that.

His promise to stay out of Max's way still remains strong, but his protective instincts thanks to knowing what is possibly out there (Gee thanks funky human flesh Flayer) keeps him in her radar. And, by proxy, all of Max's friends.

So, uh. Essentially Billy becomes like.... a very, very persistent stalker/bodyguard. Somehow, his new constant presence soon becomes the same feeling as if he was always there, like how people don't register their own noses anymore. His uncanny ability to blend into plain sight doesn't help either. Max's best explanation is living with Neil SUCKS BALLS. Will agrees.

That doesn't mean they completely forget he's there though. Sometimes, when bullies come around, the kids can sort of sense him, and know that ultimately they're safe because no kid is able to beat Billy Hargrove in intimidation checks.

So, cut to after they defeat Vecna. Except, well, they actually defeat him and there are less consequences to the town. The earthquake still happens, but less so, Max still gets mildly crinkled like a tissue but has a much better chance in healing, and Eddie doesn't die because Steve is a stubborn bitch and refuses to give up on him. Still very much chomped to hell and back though, and it's generally a long process to get him healed.

Yay medicine.

Turns out Billy followed them in. Nobody in the group is sure how, or when he showed up because clearly he was not there for ANY of the team meetings, but Billy just.... wandered in with them. Does he know what's going on? No, not at all. But he does know how to fight and cause a scene, and that's enough for them.

By the end, everyone's finally getting their rest, and Billy is allowed to slowly get better and have a life(Even if he is very much willingly not participating in anything the others are getting themselves into he's happy as is)

(Although Joyce does drag his ass into Family Dinners there's really no escaping Mama Joyce honey.)

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #billy hargrove #steve harrington #max mayfield #joyce byers #granted this is mostly just me rambling on billy the others are just mentioned here #I am hella rambling nonsense here #Basically reading a fic and spiraled a little of 'What if Billy survived but got hella social anxiety and stalked everyone for some reason' #mostly as a protective factor but done in the weirdest possible way #look when one learns behaviours that keep them safe they will emulate it until proven otherwise #and being sedated and disappearing for an unknown amount of time before rejoining society as a recluse is NOT proof to stop #I generally just imagine Billy found a fat hoodie somewhere and that's what he's in most of the time now #he also became a lot more quieter in general #still a massive flirt and sarcastic as hell when approached but otherwise doesn't start anything #he's always lurking in the shadows or simply not there at all #sometimes! sometimes he's literally in the same room as them but nobody really acknowledges him (he's okay with this) #(he is keeping his promise TIGHT and not bothering them) #hell he might have just become an extra chaffeur occasionally #max would 100% take advantage of it once he returned #where was his camaro this entire time? who knows not I #okay i'll shut up now

[presidentbungus]

HC time

Despite the energy Scout isn't a morning person at all.

The entire team watches animated kids movies for themselves for pyro and they all like get really into it. A select few aren't ashamed about it at all and a select few are spy

Scout let's Pauling do his makeup when she's around.

He keeps it on all day he loves it.

- every morning he has to be literally dragged out of bed. engy made like that one machine from wallace and gromit that literally just flips the mattress onto the floor and that’s the only reason he bothers to get up - every time somebody knocks on his door while he’s asleep he goes “MA 5 MORE MINUTES” and then he remembers where he is and goes “DAD 5 MORE MINUTES” - everybody pretends not to want to watch the movies but engy drags everyone together for family movie night every so often and this is kind of a blessing because they can pretend they don’t like them and still have to watch it. that said, the entire team is just bawling their eyes out at every single emotional climax. they watch Despicable Me once and nobody can hear the obligatory illumination ending dance number over the noise of sobbing, it’s actually tragic. and DEAR GOD when they get around to WALL-E - yeas… the secret here is that miss p isn’t really that good at doing makeup but scout seems to enjoy it so she like goes home and reads beauty magazines while she’s driving between jobs and gets super good at it just for scout. and then the twist is scout's like ok i'll do yours now and it turns out he's been doing the exact same thing and they both are like fantastic makeup artists now apparently? - side note scout's been practicing on his teammates. first it was just pyro's mask (eyeshadow does not actually take all that well to glass lenses, but you've gotta take opportunities where you see them), but eventually demo decided it'd be funny to let him try, and then engy and heavy always cave easily to a good set of puppy-dog eyes (the art of which scout has perfected). medic and sniper eventually went out of their ways to just ask him to do it because they wanted to try it out. every time they go to a formal event everyone begs scout to do their makeup. sometimes pauling pitches in. love wins - spy refuses, obviously. he isn't going to let a little sticky-fingered toddler like him anywhere near his face. - (which is what he tells anyone who asks. that said, everyone swears that every so often they hear quiet chatter coming from spy's room far too early in the morning... and spy refuses to acknowledge the eyeliner and mascara he's obviously wearing to the breakfast table.) - no one's brave enough to refute this, though. not that they're scared of spy. they just don't want to ruin anything they have no part in.

#tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 miss pauling #bungus headcanons #tf2 #thanks for the ask!

[notthestarwar]

Snippet from: when is a monster not a monster? Oh when you love it

There's a ghost haunting his buir. Jango doesn't think he knows. He's never acknowledged her at least, and when Jango sees her she's always just out of Jaster's line of sight.

When Jaster sleeps, she lounges on the bunk opposite him, ghostly hue reflecting off the ceiling. When they venture out of the ship, she trails behind him and when he does his exercise routine, she follows along; just outside of his line of sight. He wonders how his buir knew her, if he loved her, what he'd say if he saw her.

Apart from the ghost, living on Jaster's ship is pretty much the same as living on world was. Educational modules, holofilms, playing with the few toys Jaster's managed to scrounge up. It's quite boring really, he's not sure what he expected but it was definitely more than this. And he may not be haunted quite as literally as Jaster, but the circumstances that brought him here never really slip his mind.

Sometimes, Jaster wonders how he ended up here. Sole guardian of a boy who's destined to do something bad enough that another's spirit is tied to his soul. He knew enough about spirits to know that they didn't follow time in any kind of linear fashion.

He'd asked her one night. Jango passed out in the other room, in his sleep looking younger and more innocent as ever and Jaster Knew that he had to ask her, had to know.

"Are you from his past or his future."

He hadn't been looking at her as he asked and he didn't turn when she answered.

"Future."

"What ties you to him?" Faux casual. Like anyone would be casual about something like this.

"He's responsible for my death."

It hangs in the air between them.

He'd known, really. He'd known before he'd even asked. There was no chance of her presence marking anything good.

If Jaster has learnt anything of his charge these last few months, it is that he's a maelstrom.

At no point had an easy path laid ahead of his ward. Jango was destined for bigger things and those around him were destined to get caught in his storm. The Ka'ra knows it and so Jaster knows it.

Of course being responsible for someone's death doesn't have to mean the worst. But something in him knows that whatever ties this woman to his ward, is more than an honest mistake, an accident.

And that's why he doesn't ask her any more about it. He doesn't ignore her, that is when Jango is asleep at least, but he never asks her for more information and she doesn't volunteer it.

When Jango is awake Jaster never acknowledges her.

He can't. They still haven't spoken about the Ka'ra, let alone ghosts! Future crimes!

It's not that Jaster doesn't want to talk about the Ka'ra to Jango. He wants to acknowledge it. It's just, he wants the boy to be comfortable... Jango is from Concord Dawn, Jaster knows what that's like.

Jaster himself once stood in much the same place as Jango now finds himself.

He left Concord Dawn as a boy only a little older. He found himself, alone in the galaxy and star touched and knew he needed to be anywhere else.

Concord Dawn is... traditional. It's better now, but when Jaster was a child, there were a superstitious and vocal minority who saw anyone star touched as little better than a Jetti.

These few see any child born with the sight of the Ka'ra as a curse.

Jaster left what was left of his home because he wouldn't have survived in that place, not on his own, not after a tragedy had befallen his family. He would have been blamed. Not by many, but by those whose opinion mattered.

Having the sight is just not something that Mandolorians talk about. Not in public.

The Ka'ra is discussed freely amongst those in the home by those with the sight, but not so much outside of it. Those with the gift are regarded with suspicion amongst Mando'ade for no real reason, other than such a gift standing as an unknown.

The people who see their gift as a curse are few and far between, but you never know where they are. No-one is safe because nobody talks about it, you don't know if they are safe or not.

It's one thing on a whole list of things Jaster needs to address. He just doesn't know how.

The rest is easy, it's the right thing to do. But to address this pink blaarg hiding in the corner of every Mando'ades home, when he is one of the ones who is hurt by this subject being forbidden? It seems self serving.

It's not only that it's... there's a boy that lives inside Jaster, one that's never left him.

This child, he lost everything he ever loved and then he had to flee his home to escape those that would persecute him.

That little boy is terrified at the prospect of people knowing what he is.

He's convinced that there is a traditionalist hiding in every home.

He's convinced that if they know, Jaster will lose everything he ever had, again.

Jaster hates that he can't be rid of this part of him, the fear; it holds tight. But also, its one of the best parts of him.

Before any imposter complex and the logic of an adult could step forward, that small part of him saw Jango, and knew that he had to help.

He has that part of himself to thank for the place that Jan'ika now holds in his life, in his heart.

That part of him, it never served him; until suddenly it did. He has to forgive the rest because in that one act of recognition, that scared boy contributed more to his life than any other part of his self ever had.

So, Mandalore has a problem when it comes to how those with the touch of the Ka'ra are treated. It has a problem with how such a gift is viewed. How little is understood.

Its a issue, and it's one that Jaster will address as soon as he has the slightest clue as to how. But in the meantime, Mandalore has so many other problems and Jaster even knows where to start with a few of them.

That has to be the focus. He has to do what he can now. He can't let himself get stuck, scrabbling for something he doesn't yet have.

He will address it. Mandalore will be better for it. But until then, the Ka'ra is only relevant in the one place it's always been relevant, his home.

Jaster doesn't want to scare Jango off by telling him that he's noticed.

He has no idea what response Jango has had to his gift before now. Does he see it as something he needs to hide? If he is made aware that Jaster knows, will he run before Jaster has a chance to explain?

In Jango's position? Had anyone acknowledged his gift? He would have.

Jaster would have run and he would have hidden. Jaster knows well that a child like that, can be hard to find.

He doesn't want to lose him.

He can't risk it.

He needs Jango to tell him, it needs to come from Jango.

Then, Jaster will know what he's working with. He'll be able to approach it in a way that doesn't scare the kid.

Once they've discussed the Ka'ra, then they can talk about the horrors haunting them from Jango's future. One thing at a time.

The ghosts? It's inevitable. It's a conversation that needs to be had eventually, even if it may well be the last one Jaster would ever want to have.

For now. It needs to be held off. The Ka'ra first.

It's easier than one might think, to avoid it. To avoid her.

In the day, Jango's ghost does him the favour of staying out of his eyeline so his gaze doesn't drift over to her.

In some ways, avoidance is a blessing. If he acknowledges her, he would have to acknowledge the rest.

Conversations revolving around Jango's morality, his future, are something that Jaster has done his upmost to avoid these past few months, no matter how present the reminders.

Jaster never intended to be a parent, in all honesty, he doesn't know if he's a particularly good one. He feels out of his depth in a way he hasn't, for many years.

He finds himself, embracing ignorance. Something he's never before welcomed. For now, they are together. For now, he's giving Jango everything he can give. Being the best he can be.

For now, Jaster leans on something just short of denial. He knows, he just doesn't like to think about it. Not yet.

It will come for them all the same. He knows it. There is no escaping something like this.

#snippet #my writing ntwyw #mywriting ntwyw #what if there were ghosts #what if they didn't follow linear time #what if Jango and Jaster were force sensitive #what if they could see the ghosts

[mythgirlimagines]

DVHS Reread: Chapter III.II

"Couldn't have done it without Kazu's amazing lyrics." She puts an arm around Fujimoto's shoulders; I don't miss his blush. Miyuki was right about them. "We were going to do this a couple days ago, but we decided to wait until now." Make sense, given...everything. "We'll be here until seven, to give everyone some hope."

Have I mentioned how much I love these two? I definitely wish I developed them a bit more in terms of their music and friendship with the other characters. I actually think Fujimoto and Yoshida would’ve been good friends.

MONOKUMA THEATRE XI 

This one is brought to you by my sister telling me not to panic over something because she wasn’t.

I'm one of the last to enter my dorm, watching everyone's backs. I need to protect everyone who's left. I don't know where the instinct came from, but I don't think I'll be able to stand losing someone else.

She’s starting to really grow into the traditional protag role :)

I can rule out everyone who's already dead. There's no doubt they weren't the mastermind. 

Iirc, I made a couple people suspicious of the dead with this line, haha, probably because of DR1.

Nakamura  

Yes: dabbled in a little of everything (if that means anything), literal charmer

No: sweet and helpful

I love how half of the reasons for people not being the mastermind are that they’re too nice to pilot a killing game. Camila, might wanna get your head out of those specific clouds.

"My mom is strict, but she has good intentions. My dad…"

I blink at what appears to be a slip-up on her part. "Your dad?"

She says nothing, as if our conversation never happened at all. Okay. So much for that.

I think this is the first explicit mention of Saito’s dad, and the foreshadowing for next chapter.

Ikeda shakes his head. "No way. There's no rule that someone can't kill two people, you know? So one of the people in the group can easily kill the other two. If they didn't mind being a prime suspect, that is."

...I really had him bring up that rule. I surprise myself sometimes.

A flicker of movement catches my attention from my peripheral vision. "It's okay," Miyuki murmurs, sitting down on my bed next to me. My breath catches. "Read. I'll keep you safe."

This isn't real. I want it to be. It isn't.

And we have our first appearance of hallucination Miyuki! Which ngl by the end I couldn’t even fully tell if she was a hallucination or a ghost or what.

MONOKUMA THEATRE XII 

Based on something from a scrapped Team Rocket fic of mine and also me acknowledging that I don’t have Monokuma as involved as he is in canon.

At the back of the room is a rack of magazines, the latest of which is dated about a month ago. I flip through it; I never got into magazines much, but this simply shows some fashion and a couple of quizzes. Nothing really eye-catching, not to me at least. I look at the other magazines before doing a double-take. Even though some of these are recent, there's a fairly large gap between when the most recent ones and the older ones. It's at least a year for some of these, longer for others. Probably the subscriptions were messed with or something.

I think some of the magazines were more recent, given the improved state of the world, while others were there from DR1. It’s also supposed to be a clue as to the improved state, since the magazines were all older issues in DR1.

I glance at the clock before switching to the second classroom, shutting the door behind me. We've only got about an hour until we meet up again; I've been pretty thorough. I think I hear footsteps behind me when I open the second classroom's door. I freeze in the doorframe, trying to crane my neck to see the stairs. "Hello?"

Nobody answers.

I must've imagined it.

Just as before, everything is the same in this classroom, this time even the wallpaper. That only seems to change by floor, just like the colorful lighting in the hallway. "It's weird that there's nothing in here," Miyuki says, leaning on a desk. "Shouldn't there be clues?"

This is what would’ve been Ikeda killing Camila if she hadn’t spoken to hallucination Miyuki. Fun, right?

There are bathrooms right below us, so I decide on my way down that I can either waste time looking for Ikeda or brave the boys' bathroom on my own. I glance around; it's not like there's anyone who's going to barge in, so I push it open and waltz right in. "Fujimoto? Are you in here?" No response. Trying not to appear creepy, I crouch down. There aren't any shoes under the stalls. Nobody's in here, but I check the supply closet for good measure. Naturally, there's nothing but cleaning supplies in there.

Iirc I went out of my way for the supply closet because that was the one with the secret room in DR1. Or maybe that was on a different floor? I don’t remember now.

I know that feeling all too well. And, just as before, Monokuma shows up and ruins everything more than it already has been. "Aw, I was just starting to like her, too! Poor Juliet, torn apart from her Romeo." He lowers his head for approximately two seconds before popping right back up, seeming to look me right in the eye. "Well, love and loss do go hand in hand!" Ouch.

Monokuma actually is a really funny character for me to write sometimes, because I can make remarks like this.

"The victim is Hamasaki Utako, Super High-School Level Guitarist," Abe reads from his file, leaving the others on the floor. "The cause of death is strangulation…" He trails off, turning the file over. Mixed emotions dance in his eyes as they skip over the page. 

...Why was that his reaction? I legitimately don’t remember?? Maybe it’ll come to me by the end of the chapter.

(Coming back from finishing the chapter. I really have no clue. Maybe it was just that there wasn’t any other information in the file?)

He hesitates for a second before I leave. "Ishikawa, I'm glad you're taking charge. I was so worried when Ueda died, but you're really stepping up. I feel a lot safer because of that."

Have I mentioned before that I really like Yasu? He would’ve made a pretty good protag, too.

"Even though he's probably the one who killed her?" At my incredulous look, he continues, "You can't honestly tell me it didn't cross your mind. Why else would he run if not out of guilt?"

"Fear? Horror? That was my reaction at-" I swallow hard, finding myself unable to say her name. "-last time. Surely this is the same for him."

I don’t know exactly why other than the obvious reasons of Ikeda pushing the narrative, but I really like this small interaction.

Monokuma blinks a couple of times before his anger starts to show. "Oh, like hell he's-" He storms out of the room, which looks funny on his stubby little legs. On an impulse, I follow. Maybe I can convince him not to harm Fujimoto.

He pounds on Fujimoto's door before extracting a key from somewhere- frankly, I don't want to know where- and shoving it into the lock. He flings open the door and goes in guns-a-blazing, coming out a couple of seconds later with Fujimoto in tow.

This was originally when they were going to find Fujimoto- or Hamasaki, back when I had the death order between them switched. I much prefer how I actually wrote it out, I mean, who ever heard of a victim dying in the middle of a trial?

We all glance at each other. No more surprises. Hopefully we can manage that.

HA

#dvhs #dvhs reread #dvhs spoilers #camila ishikawa #utako hamasaki #hidekazu fujimoto #hamamoto #hamasaki x fujimoto #ikuo nakamura #kagami saito #miyuki ueda #kazuhiko ikeda #yasu kadoshima #fangan #danganronpa

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

#corpse #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband #husband #corpsehusband #corpse imagines #corpse simp #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #fluff #angst #romance #love #comfort #x reader #reader #reader insert #x y/n #y/n #requests open #requests

[tommyspeakycap]

HF for how Tommy feels on his daughters wedding day please

first half is headcanons and the second half is a lil blurb!

tommy is quite literally distraught

like that’s no exaggeration he is literally heart broken

his baby, his whole world was getting married

for the past 20 years, you had been tommy shelby’s whole world

you were born when tommy was only 17

not even an adult yet himself

so it felt as though you had been with him most of his life

it had kind of just been you and him, in a sense

of course there was the rest of the clan too, and you were incredibly close to them as well

but your mother died in childbirth, so tommy was both mum and dad

he had to do it all alone in that sense

everyone tells him he should be so proud of how he raised you

because you’re sweet and kind

and you have that humour that the war took from tommy

you made people laugh like he had

and you were really the only person that could make him laugh

you were strong, like your mother tommy had always said

but you credit everything you are to him

he was the first man to love you, and teach you how you should be loved

he also taught you how you should be treated, generally a lot better than the average father would

tommy made sure that his daughter would be treated like a queen

you were his princess

so whomever you were to marry, you would be treated as their queen

he made absolutely sure of that

and that marrying was your choice

not something you were coerced into for money or business, but something you wanted

and it was

with a man who you had loved since 16

tommy liked him as much as he could like the man that was going to be taking his baby girls hand and changing her name

the thought of you not being (y/n) shelby, tommy shelby’s little princess, was earth shattering to him

although you had insisted you were keeping it in the middle

alas, tommy knew you were so loved by that man

be that as it may, all parties knew if he stepped a foot out of line or raised a finger in anything but gentility and love

then he would be struck down in a timely and violent fashion by tommy himself

tommy definitely cries that day too

“Tommy?” Grace’s voice immediately draws his attention towards her and away from his thoughts about the impending fact his little girl was getting married in half an hour. His eyes are that kind of wet that shows he’s fighting tears, that he won’t dare let them fall. Grace can see the lump he tries to swallow in his throat and a piece of her heart breaks for him as she sits down on the bench next to him outside the hall where the ceremony would take place. You were inside getting the dress on and getting your hair done with Polly and Ada and previously Grace before she had come out to see if her husband was okay.

He was not.

“Oh Tommy,” Her voice is so soft and caring as she wraps her arm around him and rubs his shoulder, hugging him to her slightly. “She looks so beautiful Tom, and god she’s so happy; can’t stop smiling at all. She still has that smile you talk about, the innocent one and it looks just like yours does sometimes.” Tommy clenches his jaw tightly, still refusing to let those tears go. She sees him clamp down his teeth over his bottom lip to stop it trembling. “It’s alright Tommy, this is good. She’s in love with a man who loves her so much. Almost as much as you do.”

Tommy shakes his head at that, one hand on his knee to brace himself as he tries to speak. “Not possible.” He snips, “And i loved her first.”

His voice breaks on that. The lip finally trembles and he hangs his head with a sharp inhale to let free that shoulder shaking sob. “She was my little baby. How is that my little girl in there? She used to-” Tommy had to pause again, roughly wiping his hand over his face to clear away the tears as he looks up at Grace, “She used to be this big,” he gestures with his hands in a way that she imagined was meant to be him cradling a baby. His voice sounds drastically different than she’s used to because it’s clouded by his tears and his agony.

“She used to ask me to brush her teeth and comb her hair and lift her up to wash her hands,” he bleats, images flashing through his mind of that short little girl who couldn’t reach the bathroom sink. He sees the little girl who stood on top of the toilet so he could brush those teeth and he can see the smile that little girl gave him all those nights when he asked to see to make sure he had brushed them right. “She used to climb into my bed every morning and she used to save up her tooth fairy money to buy us all gifts. She’d save food from her dinner for the dogs on the street and i swear on my life i don’t know how to live without her being my baby girl, Grace.” Tears continue to stream down his cheeks as Grace notices the black and white photograph that looked truly as though it had been through the war; as it had. it was stained and slightly run and it was crumpled. A little girl with a toothless grin and Tommy Shelby’s eyes, even with the lack of colour to the old photograph.

“It’s alright Tommy,” Grace hums, rubbing her husbands back soothingly, “She’s your little girl, she always will be.” She knew there was really nothing else she could say that would ease his pain. There was nothing anyone could do or say that would send you back to the little girl he would could throw over his shoulder and run around the house with. There was nothing that could ease the pain of a fathers aching heart when his baby girl becomes a woman who doesn’t need him like she used to.

“Thomas?”

He and Grace look up at Polly. The look in her eyes speaks for her . “She’s ready?” Tommy asks, prompting his aunt to nod her head with a smile. “Come on then, Tom!” Arthur calls from the grand doorway at the top of the steps to the hall. When Tommy and Grace reach him, Arthur wraps his arm roughly around his brothers shoulder and pulls Tommy into him. “Baby (y/n) getting fuckin’ married eh? Can’t fuckin’ believes she’s this fuckin grown up.” He shakes his head, taking his arm away from his brother when they reach the door of the dressing room where you were waiting. “Beautiful she is, Tom.” Arthur says, “Looks just like mum. In you go.” He ushers his younger brother in that door.

Nobody sees Tommy Shelby quite like you do, and he’s happy for it to stay that way. He’s known it since you were a tiny little girl wrapped up in his arms. He doesn't love anyone like he loves you, so it makes full sense that you are the only person in the world who he allows his vulnerability to fully leak through with. Although, he probably couldn't prevent it even if he tried.

Maybe that’s why he doesn't fight so hard to keep his eyes from welling up when he sees you standing there looking in the mirror, donned in the most beautiful white wedding gown that he’s ever seen. Placed in his hand is the stunning light veil that he had picked out for you. The headband was something like a tiara, because you were his princess and he truly believed that everything you had should be the best the world could offer. The dress too had been extortionate and you would never have gotten it had you known the price it had come to, but Tommy had never allowed you to know. He simply had the designers bring an array of dresses to his estate where you tried them all on with Polly, Ada, Lizzie, Grace, Linda and Esme to comment and complement each dress, as well ad aide you on picking the one that suited you the most with cost never a mention. Tommy had preached he ‘no expense spared’ approach the whole way through the planning of the wedding and any timenhe caught you trying to cut or manage costs, he simply shut you down and enforced the rule that the wedding planner was no longer allowed to discuss prices with you. 

He had truly created the most fantastical day for you, and he would have spent every single penny that he had if it meant giving you the most beautiful start to a new life that he could give. 

You had wanted him to be the one to place that veil on your head with the guidance of your hair dresser to ensure he didn't mess up the design of your hair. He had been the one to place little plastic tiaras on your head when you were merely a little girl who wanted to play princess dress up. He used to be the one to comb back your hair and twirl you around that Watery Lane kitchen with Arthur did the same with Ada and Polly laughed heartily from her seat at the table. 

It felt right to have him put a tiara on you one last time as baby Shelby. 

“You’re beautiful.” He breathes, his lips stretching into a wide and incredibly proud smile. “So, so very beautiful my darling.” Your cheeks blush ever so slightly and you lean over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, dad.” 

He wants to hug you tightly and never let you go. He wants to will and wish you back to the little girl that he used to twirl around all afternoon. He missed that little girl so much. He had so much love in his heart for you, so much that it overwhelmed him every time he had tried to acknowledge it over the course of your life. 

“I love you.” he says, his shaky voice conveying how much he actually means those words. “So much more than you can ever know. I’m going to miss you so much.” 

You breathe a short laugh, shaking your head at him. “I’m not going anywhere, dad. I’ll still be seeing you all the time. I’ll just have a different name.” You hold his hand tightly in yours as he leads you out of the dressing room and into the hall towards the large double doors that would take you to the isle. 

“Mhm,” he hums, “I suppose. You’ll understand what I mean someday. I just love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” 

“You two ready to go?” The wedding planner asks, watching as you turn to Tommy somewhat excitedly and nod. “You ready dad?” You ask, giving his had a reassuring squeeze. He sighs heavily, but nods his head too, removing his hand from yours and moving his arm so that you can link yours through his. His play on his mind before he says them, a small smile too playing on his lips as the nickname that he used to call you runs through his memory.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, my little love.” 

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby x sister reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby sister #shelby sister reader #shelby!reader

[fruitcoops]

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

#leo knut #sirius black #coops #oknutzy #finn ohara #logan tremblay #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #friendship #cap and rookie

[letarasstuff]

Can I stay with you?

(A/N): This is based on this, this and this post. I really hope you are ready for the feels, because they are there and they are heavy-

Summary: Following the events of Emily's death, how will Spencer and his daughter cope with it?

Warnings: Angst and lots of it, mentions of drug use, contemplations of drug use, mentions of needles, we also got some bittersweet fluff

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _______________________________

A hospital is not a place where a child should be, Spencer knows that much. But he picked (Y/N) up on his way for two reasons:

The first one being the simple occurence that the babysitter is not able to keep her any longer, because she has classes in the next morning. The second one is selfish and the father knows that, but he needs her presence, the comfort she brings to him.

“Daddy”, the child breaks the silence in the waiting room, “Is Auntie Emily going to be ok?” She sits in his lap reading a book before looking up at him. Her eyes hold something he wishes to never see again: Fear. The fear of losing someone she loves dearly.

“I hope, Baby. But let’s not forget one important fact: Your Auntie Emily is one of the strongest women I know.” Spencer gives her a kiss on the top of her head and cuddles her closer to him, seeing (Y/N)’s eyes dropping. The rest of the team watches the interaction with aching hearts.

The girl is asleep for half an hour when JJ enters the room. Everybody gets up crowding her. Spencer is careful to not disturb his daughter as he moves her head to his shoulder and hooks his arm under her legs.

“She never made it off the table.” These words echo in the genius’ mind, seemingly being the only things he can think about. “I-I never had the chance to say goodbye.” JJ hugs him, trying to give some sort of comfort. In this process (Y/N) wakes up. As soon as she spots her father’s tears, she knows not to ask a question. Instead she loops her arms around his neck.

“It’s fine. It’s gonna be alright, Daddy”, the toddler recalls the words he says to her whenever she is upset in hopes to cheer him up.

The next couple days are hard on the whole team. They try to grieve together, especially while the funeral takes place. (Y/N) notices that the color black is fitting, since her Auntie really liked to wear it. She likes that they do the same to pay their respects that way.

“Auntie Penny, is she watching?” The blonde woman carries her while the casket is walked down the aisle. Since her death, (Y/N) doesn’t dare to say Emily’s name. She thinks if she avoids it, she is going to inflict less pain when she is talked about.

“Of course. Emily is in heaven and watches this beautiful beautiful ceremony we hold for her. So wipe that frown off and put on that smile she loved so much. Alright?” Confusing to her, the adults want (Y/N) to smile all the time. But they are frowning and crying more often than not.

“Can she hear us? Because I want to say I love her. I forgot to say it the last time I saw her.” Trying to distract herself from seeing the casket lowering into the grave, the girl plays with Penlope’s hair. She in turn has to fight tears back. Only now she realizes the impact the whole thing has on her.

“I’m sure she does. What about when the majority is gone, we go to her grave and talk to Emily? Do we have a deal?” (Y/N) nods.

As soon as the ceremony is over, Spencer takes his daughter, cradling her close to him. As if she senses his sadness, the girl is petting his back in a comforting way. He squeezes her closer to him, leaving her not much room to breathe.

“Daddy, I wanna talk to her. I need to get down.” (Y/N) wiggles in his grasp after she whispers this into his ear. Reluctantly Spencer lets her down and she toddles over to the freshly made grave. A little plastic card sticks out of the grass in place of a headstone.

The adults try to give her as much space as possible, they have to let grieve on her own.

“Hey, Auntie Emily. I-I wanted to say I love you, and I forgot to tell you this the last time so I say it a second time. I love you. And I miss you. I think Daddy misses you too. He is sad since you are gone. I’m too. I think it’s because we miss you. But I hope you like Heaven. Maybe you see my Mommy. When you do, can you say I love her?

“I’ll try to see you soon, Auntie. Goodbye!” (Y/N) goes back to her father and makes grabby hands towards him. Gladly Spencer picks her up again, putting a kiss on her head. “Wanna go home, Daddy.” The child mumbles, exhausted by all the stress and emotions from the day.

The father is relieved to have an excuse to skip the meal with the team. He is scared that the evening at the little restaurant is clouded by sadness and angst. Spencer doesn’t need that right now, a nice sit in with his daughter sounds way better.

After saying their goodbyes the little family sits in the car on their way to the apartment. As soon as Spencer starts the car, (Y/N) is fast asleep. He looks at her through the rear view mirror, happy to see her at peace. It gives the father time to sort through his own thoughts. Since Emily’s death (Y/N) tries to be around him constantly, which he is thankful for, because she keeps the darkness away.

Her last hours play again and again before his eyes. The different ways he could have stopped all of this. Why didn’t he say more when she began biting her nails? When she said “Laura Reynolds is dead”? Maybe all of this is his fault?

His forearm begins to itch. Exactly where Tobias Hankel injected the needle same as he did several times. Maybe, maybe it would make everything better? Just this one tim-

“Daddy? When are we home?” The small voice cuts off his train of thought. Spencer needs a few seconds to clear his mind. Did he really think that? Taking dilaudid while the reason he fought his addiction literally sits right behind him? “Just a few minutes, Sweetheart. Do you want to go to bed after dinner?”

As if she knows that the father can’t be left alone in this state, (Y/N) answers: “No, I wanna watch a movie with you. Can we watch Alvin and the chipmunks? I love Simon so much!” This places a smile on his face, the excitement in her eyes scare his dark thoughts away. “Sure, Peanut. We can watch whatever you want.”

It's the fourth evening in a row that the girl sleeps in her father’s bed. She either falls asleep there or climbs next to him in the middle of the night, so he figures he lets her sleep there right away.

“Good night, Sweetheart”, he tells her as they lay down. Even though it’s quite early for Spencer to go to bed it’s (Y/N)’s time. “Good night, Daddy”, she tells him while snuggling closer, “I love you. Soooooo much.”

The young doctor decides to take the next few days off from work in order to work through the events. The first one he spends coloring in books with her the whole day. While she works on her own books gifted by various members of the BAU, Spencer has his own extra made for adults. He can’t deny the soothing effect it has on him. The repeating moves calms the storm of thoughts inside his head.

The next day the two of them sit the whole day on the small couch in the living room, (Y/N) on his lap, and read. Sometimes they read for themselves, others the father reads outloud from his own or (Y/N) from her own. It’s kind of therapeutic to hear his child doing something he enjoyed his whole life.

“Daddy, do you think she feels lonely in heaven? There is nobody she knows, she has to wait for us to follow her, doesn’t she?” Not prepared for such a deep question, Spencer is caught off guard.

He clears his throat before answering. “Uh, Auntie Emily isn’t that lonely up there, you know. You can’t remember him, but Uncle Gideon, a friend from work and someone I looked up to, is there. He surely greeted her with open arms, happy to see her. And your Mommy is also there, she certainly asked lots of questions about you.” “A-are you sure? I told her to say Mommy ‘I love you’ when she sees her.” (Y/N) looks up to her father with big eyes.

He is not sure if he is lying right now to her, but he sees that his daughter needs the reassurance. “Yes, I’m sure.” To lighten the mood he begins to tickle her, which ends in a tickle fight which in turn ends in tiring the girl out and falling asleep while watching a Disney movie.

The next day is by far the worst since it all happened. Both (Y/N) and Spencer haven’t slept much due to nightmares from both sides (him comforting her as she tears him from his own), which results in a grumpy toddler and a non stop coffee drinking adult.

“Sweetheart, you need to put that shirt on. Auntie JJ is expecting us in ten minutes. Please, stop fighting me”, he begs, but she continues to cry. As Spencer tries for a third time to put it on her (Y/N) throws herself to the other side of the bed.

“I don’t want that, Daddy!” She finally gets out through her sobs. Spencer halts in his movements. “Why? That’s your favorite, Baby.” While (Y/N) begins to cry louder, he leaves the clothing article on the bed and gathers her in his arm, rocking her back and forth additionally to whispering sweet reassurances in her ear.

“She gave it to me. I don’t wanna make it dirty or ruin it”, the toddler says between shaky breaths. For what feels like the trillionth time, the young agent’s heart breaks over this statement. He has a bigger vocabulary than the average English speaking person, but at this moment Spencer is at a loss of words.

“Sweetheart, I apologize for not acknowledging this right away. I’ll get another shirt out for you, ok? Thank you so much for telling and helping me.” Just a few minutes later the little family is on their way to the next metro stop. It’s then that Spencer realizes his day won’t be any easier.

“(Y/N) you can sit in the seat next to me like you always do. Why do you have to sit in my lap today?” Normally he isn’t someone who denies his child physical contact, but the seating chart has a logical purpose. Being on a train with a child means you have some kind of luggage with you, which leads to occupying a four seats compartment. In order to prevent somebody taking the seat next to him, Spencer places his daughter there. It’s a win win situation for everybody, really.

Unfortunately for him (Y/N) is extra clingy today and won’t stop crawling onto his lap. With a sigh he accepts his defeat and tries not to think about the amount of germs that fly around.

Another problem that torments the father: Over the last few days his cravings grew. Especially today the feeling, the need, for another shot and another high is undeniable for him. As if sensing this (Y/N) sticks by his side throughout the whole time, keeping his mind off of the drug that changes him.

While they are at the Jareau’s and Lamontagne’s household, his daughter refuses to play with Henry. “I wanna stay with you”, she murmurs into his shoulder. Again Spencer accepts his defeat and sits down on the couch next to his best friend.

“Sweetheart, you need to let me go. I have to go to the bathroom, you can’t come with me.” This is followed by a tsunami of tears. While JJ tries to console her, he slips out of the room discreetly.

Due to (Y/N)’s current grumpiness and Spencer’s fatigue they quickly call it a night, even though he could use some more comfort from his friends.

“Good night, Sweetheart. Sleep tight and dream nice. I love you”, he says after tucking his child in and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Night night, Daddy. I love you, too”, her small voice echoes back to him and makes him smile softly.

Spencer finds his way back to the living room and sits down with a book in his lap. As expected he doesn’t get much reading done, too distracted by his own thoughts. The events of the night of his colleague’s, his friend’s, death replay themselves over and over again.

What if he made his conclusions faster? He is supposed to be the smart one, the one the team relies on for making important connections. But he failed once so who knows what happens when he fails again? Next time it could be the whole team dying. He could die. He would leave (Y/N) alone with the team gone. His mother isn’t capable of caring for her and his father doesn’t even know she exists. She will go into foster care, into a home with too many kids. She will be looked over, too small to be seen. Her potential will go to waste and she will never achieve anything she is capable of. And all that because he hasn’t made a conclusion fast enough.

Spencer’s scars on his forearm itch worse than ever. One shot. Only one shot to make the thoughts go away. To make the guilt go away, the bad feelings. He needs it. He needs to cure himself from the symptoms of being a human.

Before the young doctor even registers what he is doing he already put his jacket on and looks for his wallet when a voice startles him.

“Daddy, i can't sleep. Can I stay with you again?” (Y/N) stands in the doorway, clutching her stuffed animal and her blanket, shielding her eyes from the light, oblivious to what her father was about to do.

“Oh Darling, of course. Do you want me to read to you? Or we drink hot chocolate and watch a movie?” He suggests, ready to distract himself from anything that’s going on in his mind. A few minutes later his daughter cuddles into his side while watching once again Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Spencer is just happy to have his light in his life all the time and is ready to tackle any task to keep her there, may it be once again the weekly visits for anonymous narcotics or time off from work to process the events together in therapy.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #x daughter!reader #x child!reader

[spencers-renaissance]

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

#my writing #moreid #derek #spencer #derek morgan #criminal minds #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #userpenemily

[zevlors-tail]

Okay but hear me out

Dad villain Izuku.

( I mean dadzuku for the won but still!)

Like, him having his precious little boy/girl?

Fierce protective dad?

Huh...kinda sounds like the start of a Mob AU.

Idk i just like dad izuku so I thought you might too!

You have just opened a can of worms you cannot close!!! Haha but really, here's some pregnancy/baby headcanons because a lot of people tend to enjoy that. Not really my cup of tea, but I'll make an exception here. To your credit, you've got me really thinking on this. 😳

“Not really my cup of tea”, I say, as I make the world’s longest headcanons about Vil!Deku being a dad.

TW: Pregnancy, children, cursing. :)

Dad Villain!Deku HC's

-Look, Vil!Deku is already possessive as fuck. The second he finds out you're pregnant? He will literally be attached to you at the hip. Can't go anywhere without this man. Can you say coddling?

-He's so thrilled and nervous at the same time. Not about being a bad parent or anything, more about you or your child getting injured, threatened, or put in danger.

-It started with some symptoms that looked like the run of the mill flu. You probably got pretty bad morning sickness, and he fussed over you the whole time; held your hair back for you, rubbed your back, made you tea, the whole nine yards.

-Both of you just thought it was a stomach bug. But you just kept getting sick, and Deku actually took some time off work to stay with you and make sure you were okay (what a gentleman).

-After a week of being sick, this man is so concerned about you and your health that he calls a doctor to your place to take a look at you. God help that poor doctor because if he even looks at you the wrong way, Deku will obliterate him.

-Doctor asks if you could be pregnant, and both of you just kind of go quiet.

-Deku had thought of that possibility but refused to acknowledge it because something that good? Happening to an outcast like him? A criminal? To someone who was never worthy enough to be a hero? No. Way.

-But it did! You can probably see Deku's eyes visibly sparkle when the doc asks that question. The doctor leaves with the theory that you're pregnant and tells you to take a test.

-Congratulations! You're both going to be parents!

-Everything is so different after that. Deku has always been soft on you because you're his Sweet, but he's extra soft and caring now. Also extremely protective and possessive?

-"It's just the grocery store. I can do it myself, it's alright!" You're out of groceries? He's going with you. You can't argue it. "I'll go with you." "What if someone recognizes you?" "They won't say a word about it. I’ll make sure of it." You know what that means...

-Pregnancy cravings are wild, but he's miraculously got it covered. Never forgets a single craving you've had. Always has your favorite foods on hand, including the odd ones. Pickles? There's three whole jars in the fridge. Certain flavor of chips? Always a bag in the pantry. And if there's ever an instance where you crave something he doesn't have on hand, he makes his lackeys go get it while he stays at home with you. But if he absolutely had to, he would get it himself.

-Nobody is allowed to touch you, especially not now that you're carrying his child. If anyone so much as breathes too close to you, they're toast.

-Keeps tabs on you 24/7. Has to know where you're at and that you're okay or he's worrying 25/8.

-Somehow he's even more crazy about you? Just the fact that you're pregnant with his child is enough to stir him up any day, any time. You've definitely caught him staring at your stomach obsessively several times.

-Takes THEE best care of you. You are your child's lifeline and the love of his life, so you have to stay healthy and happy. Once again...can you say coddling? Makes sure you've eaten throughout the day, brings you water, makes you rest, runs you hot baths, generally just keeps an eye on you to make sure you're okay. Oh, and if you're working? Say goodbye to that job for now. No way you're doing anything strenuous while he can help it.

-If you for some reason insist on keeping the 9-5 job and you manage to convince him otherwise, he visits you on your lunch break whenever he can and hacks into the security cameras way too often for his own good. Literally will be in the middle of a meeting watching live feed from your store. 

-Whenever the kid is due, he’s gonna have a bit of a rough time during the whole process. It’s hard for him, because he doesn’t trust the doctors and nurses at the hospital to give you top notch care when he’s not there, and he can’t really take you there anyways because of his villain status (do you think maybe villains have hospitals and resources for each other?? That would be kind of cool...). He ends up pulling some strings with a fellow vigilante/former villain connection who works in the hospital, and they work out some sort of undercover deal probably?

-Don’t question, just accept. He’s got it all covered. He gets to stay with you through everything and he’s got the best doctors and nurses on your case, top notch, extremely professional and comforting for you. They don’t bat an eye at a villain and his s/o and child, they just do their job and keep quiet about it (how does some extra cash sound?).

-Super tense right up until it’s all done. If looks could kill, everyone in that room besides you and the baby would be dead. But he softens right up once he gets to hold the baby. Despite you being extremely tired, you’re glad you stayed awake to see this, because there’s a certain look on his face. For a second, it almost seems like he’s back to how he was before...almost as if he was never a villain in the first place. The hope in his eyes is reminiscent of something old and nostalgic; it reminds you of when he aspired to be a hero. But still it’s not quite right.

-He is immediately mesmerized by your child. “They look like you...” He’s never held something so vulnerable before and felt so...warm, other than the times he’s held you.

-He would kill for both you and your child. If anyone ever threatened you or put the both of you in a dangerous situation, he would drop everything without a second thought to come running to save you. Pray for anyone who comes between the two of you; Deku will make sure they meet a fate worse than death.

-You both take turns taking care of the baby when they wake you up at night, but Deku will be willing to get up before you do nine out of ten times. He loves his child, he really does. It gives him something to take care of and nurture and it makes him feel hopeful again. That kid is his pride and joy.

-There was one time (but only one, because you absolutely ripped into him for it) where you heard the baby cry, and Deku offered to get up and take care of it, so you rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. But he never came back to bed, and the baby had been silent for a long time, so you got up to check on them to make sure they were alright, and what did you find? Deku, wide awake at his work desk with his laptop open, baby sitting comfortably on his lap with a bottle, and some surveillance footage and grotesque crime scene pictures pulled up. You were livid.

-”You better not be doing what I think you’re doing. You’re going to traumatize our child.” He looks like a deer caught in headlights when you interrupt his work. The baby just coos and gurgles, and you are absolutely mortified. He looks like he’s about to say something, and you cut him off before he can answer. “Whatever you’re going to say better be a damn good apology, Deku.” Oh, he’s in trouble all right. He just slowly shuts his laptop and brings the baby over to you. Kisses can fix everything, right? ;) He better hope so.

-Even though he’s a villain, the baby always goes quiet when he holds them. It’s like magic, almost. Sometimes you can’t get them to stop crying, and Deku will just come up and look at him with those soft eyes he reserves for only the two of you, and the baby just starts cooing and reaching out for him. Gee, favorites much?

-Never was there ever a moment more peaceful and serene than the time you came home to Deku asleep on the couch with his arms cradled around your child, face soft from sleep and the baby breathing lightly. You feel so lucky to have this in your life. It’s not easy being villains, but this was something you never expected to have, and it’s changed both of you for the better. 

Bonus:

-If Deku still has a relationship with his mom, you can bet he gets her to babysit when you decide to go back to work (if you do at all, because he really wants you to stay at home with him and the baby).

-If your mother wasn’t the best or isn’t around, congrats, Mama Midoriya is now your mother, and there is nothing you can do about it. And honestly? Deku loves seeing the way you bond with her. He’s made himself a tiny family that loves him for who he is. There’s no greater feeling in the world than that.

#villain deku #villain!deku #villain deku x reader #villain!deku x reader #villain deku headcanons #bnha headcanons #bnha hcs #mha #bnha #mha hcs

[riricitaa]

Sorry not sorry but this is going to be long!

Some people don't realise that the constant hate, bullying and harassment would make the receiving end refuse to listen and stop caring even if there is valid criticism!

I won't deny that there's in fact valid criticism and I won't deny either that there has been some bad decisions and choices from Seb's part that me myself didn't agree with and found them to be not smart, but he's only human just like the rest of us and we all make mistakes and we all learn and grow, I mean I'm not the same person from yesterday, let alone months ago or even years and decades ago.

And just because I support him and I love him doesn't mean I support what he says and what he does at 100% because that would be hypocritical, because when we love someone, whether it's a loved one, a friend, family or even a celebrity, we love them with all their flaws, and we love them despite all the imperfections, loving them doesn't mean we support them and agree with them at all times!! That's what some people won't understand. They think that since we're still supporting Seb, it means we don't see his mistakes and we're defending him, when it is not! We support him and we love him and we still acknowledge when he does something wrong. We just don't jump on straight up starting a hate campaign and a death hashtag! That's the difference!!!

While there has been few valid criticism points, but the hate, the harassment, the bullying, the body shaming, the disgusting comments, the harassment towards his friends, family, loved ones and fans who support him clouded all of the valid points and made it difficult for us to enjoy things anymore, suffocated us, exhausted us! And if we're just his fans and we're feeling this way, imagine what he's feeling! He's a human being and has feelings like the rest of us, he's not a rock! He keeps getting attacks after attacks after attacks, and just like he said, even if he moves a piece of paper from left to right, someone will have something to say about it! And if anyone got offended by what he said, I say that the shoe fits perfectly.

Because lately it has been like that! Commenting on every single detail of his life, both professional and personal, even twisting everything he says, putting words in his mouth, spreading rumours and lies, and that really makes no room for any bit of ability to try and listen to anything "they claim to be holding him accountable and calling him out with" .

Some people were like he shouldn't have said what he said, it's going to make him look bad, well in fact I'm so happy he said that!

Because try for once and put yourselves in his shoes, having every single detail of your life commented on in a negative way, getting hate and cancellation attempts over stuff you did a decade ago, and the disgusting comments on your social media for 24/7, it's not cool right? Y'all forget he's a human being and has feelings like everyone else, and sometimes we just can't take it anymore and we just snap! Damn the consequences! It is too much seriously! Too fucking much! And yet he's still doing these kind of things and interviews and panels, because that's who he is, he cares about us, he loves us! And y'all making it so hard lately for everyone! Like I can't enjoy anything related to him without being attacked myself! ( example: the majority or our simple posts/tweets about him, the ones that we enjoy him and every new update of his or just random old pics and gifs, there isn't a day where I don't see some rude unnecessary comment like 'he's ugly' 'can't believe u still support a racist' 'how do u even find him attractive? he's old' ... and so many other things, when we want nothing but to enjoy and be left alone)

You don't want to support him anymore, that's fine, nobody is forcing you to do it! But don't ruin it for others who don't see eye to eye as you!

I don't know what's the goal of all this because it is definitely not about calling anyone out at this point, it's just straightforward hate for the sake of hate! I mean he can literally say "Hi" and you'd see wonders of how that "hi" is wrong!

It is too much!

But I will never stop being on his side and I will never stop stating my opinions when it is necessary! And no one will stop me! Because it is my right, just like it is yours to state your opinions! The only difference, is that I never hijack anyone's opinion with rude comments and hate and attacks, I just scroll past you, move on, and block if it's necessary!! And I hope you learn and do the same, it would spare everyone the headache!

Thank you very much!!

#sometimes I just can't not speak about things #sebastian stan #long post #in case the read more link doesn't work

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (13)

(Happy Valentine’s Day everybody!!! I’d say that this is a gift for the day, but this is my usual update time lol please enjoy the new chapter anyway! There’s also a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.12 / Ch.14  (ao3)

Chapter 13: I’ll Make You a Deal

Lila stalked the halls of Dupont, doing her best to hide her scowl as she massaged her temples. When she offered to take Marinette’s job as Class President, she hadn’t realized how much extra work she was dumping onto herself. She thought that the title was just that: a title. Nothing more. Nothing less. Sure, she would have to verify a few things, acknowledge her classmates’ opinions towards the school system, and speak out about it as a representative towards them, but that was all. She didn’t expect it to rearrange her entire schedule towards life! Her head was pounding from the late nights of filing student complaints, her back ached from carrying this stupid binder around, and her wrist still twinged with pain from signing too many papers at once. It was ridiculous!

Lying to Bustier about those forms didn’t make it any easier either. Instead of getting to make minor additions to the papers Marinette had already written, she now had to rewrite all of the forms herself. The entire process was a nightmare, and Lila couldn’t escape. If she lied again and said that Marinette gave the forms back, that would be glorifying the girl, and she refused to do that. However, if she lied and said that she simply found the forms again, it would not only make her look suspicious, but also incompetent. She couldn’t have either of those descriptions attached to her person. 

So, that left her with the agonizing option of filling them out again herself. She tried to push it onto Alya, and for the most part, she succeeded. The red-head filled out a good half before handing them back, but that still left Lila with the other half. Thus, she’s spent the last three nights in a row doing nothing but signing form after form after form. The fact that she had to use Marinette’s forms as reference only made it worse. She could practically hear the ravenette laughing at her every time she glanced over the original paperwork. It was utterly humiliating.

And don’t get her started on the amount of requests or complaints that she had to file. Everyday her classmates came to her asking for this or that or “could you change this about our classroom?”. Sometimes they would talk about the seats being too hard or the fact that they didn’t have enough recess or how the stairs were too far apart and someone could trip. Then- oh, then -there were the class trips. One request was a literal trip to Greece. Greece! Did they think she or the school was just made of money? How can they possibly be this greedy or entitled? How was Marinette able to handle it all so easily? She made it look like it was nothing!

Lila clenched her fists at her side, her nails digging into her skin. Even after running from the school with her tail between her legs, Marinette was still acting as a sharp, irritating thorn in Lila’s side. 

Sparkling laughter interrupted her thoughts, and Lila turned to the two boys standing outside of the library entrance. Adrien Agreste, the golden child of the school, and Nino, his little sidekick- as far as Lila was concerned -appeared to be chatting mindlessly on their way back to class, which was typical. Adrien was always talking with somebody now-a-days. That was another problem of hers. 

When Marinette first left, Adrien became distraught and distant. He began muttering to himself and not listening in class, dismissing everyone with a hum and a nod. The other students berated him for the behavior, wonderfully captured in Lila’s beautifully crafted web of words, but he hardly heard them. Or if he did, he didn’t care. He continued to write things in his notebook that certainly weren’t lesson notes and run his hand through his hair with frustration when he hit some sort of wall. 

It was irritating, of course, but nothing Lila hadn’t expected. Marinette was supposed to be his “very good friend”, after all. She would have been surprised if he hadn’t mourned the loss. What she didn’t anticipate, though, was the way he bounced back. 

It had to have happened a little over two weeks after Marinette left, because Lila remembered finally starting to feel comfortable in her new role of being able to lie unchallenged. She was spewing some crap about Marinette sending her mean messages, making sure her tears looked real enough and her sobs were believable, when Adrien decided to jump into the conversation. He flashed her a bright smile and, in the kindest voice she’d ever heard, asked her for the texts that Marinette had sent. 

The question alone had surprised her, considering the fact that he hadn’t really spoken to anyone in a while, but that smile he held was really the thing to set her on edge. It was simply too sweet-looking for someone who had just indirectly asked for proof of her story, especially when they both knew that she was lying. 

She couldn’t understand the change. He’d been cowering in the corner for the last two weeks, and yet that day, he was out for blood on her account. Why? What was the difference between the last two weeks and that day? She still doesn’t know. 

Adrien’s determination towards outing her cranked up to eleven after that . He went from barely talking to one person throughout the day to talking with everyone on a constant basis, and anytime Lila so much as uttered a sentence, he was there asking questions. When did she do this, who helped her with that, how did she manage to get from one place to the other so quickly- from a naïve onlooker’s point of view, Adrien would simply appear to be interested in Lila’s stories, but she knew better. He was finding holes in her stories and using them to rip apart her words piece by piece, all while using an innocent yet confused expression to make it seem like he was trying to help her. The strategy was completely different from Marinette’s, and it ticked Lila off to no end. How was she supposed to turn crowds against him and regain her throne if he kept acting like some pure-hearted angel?

She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t, and he knew that she couldn’t, because that’s the exact same tactic that eventually got Marinette to leave the school.

A part of her had hoped that this newfound passive-aggression would fade after a few days, but now that three weeks of constant badgering on Adrien’s account has passed, that hope has been thoroughly and relentlessly crushed. He hasn’t done much over those weeks, thankfully, but she’s had to reinforce her lies ten times the normal amount to keep it that way. That’s a tad hard to do when all of your stories are on the grand scale of things. 

Even with her meticulous planning and words choices, though, one can’t escape subtle confrontation forever. She could tell that people were slowly starting to become suspicious of her stories. They were either wanting Adrien to be around during their discussions with her or were looking for holes themselves. 

Watching them exchange glances during her stories made her blood boil. Why did they have to be so nosy? So picky? Can’t she have a reprieve for once in her entire life? Can’t she just lie and manipulate others without the fear of getting caught? Why did that feel like such a big request from the universe?

Adrien and Nino waved to each other, and Lila perked up. It looked like they were separating. Were they separating? Oh, please be separating. That would be the most convenient thing to happen to her all month.

Adrien split off from Nino, to her delight, and Lila beelined after the blond. His meddling had gone on long enough, and she thought it was high time someone put an end to it. That someone being her. 

“Adrien!” Lila cooed, looping her arm with his and flashing a bright smile. “It’s been forever since we’ve talked just one on one, don’t you think?”

Adrien’s steps faltered, and for the briefest of moments, she saw his eyes darken. Nobody else would have noticed, especially not with the friendly smile he gave her right after, but Lila caught it. She was the only one who realized how truly despicable the model could be. 

“Oh, hey Lila.” He replied with an easy, clearly fake smile. “I guess we haven’t talked alone in a while. You normally like to be at the center of the crowd.”

Lila tried not to grit her teeth and instead elected to flip her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say the center. I’m just being myself, and the others seem to follow.”

Adrien hummed. “Yes, I’m sure you're a wonderful role model for all of us. It isn’t everyday we get the courtesy of having an honest and kind friend like you.”

His sarcasm was palpable, but his shining smile remained. A part of her wondered why he even bothered acting at this point. They both knew they were at war now. Niceties were only necessary when someone was clueless towards hidden motives. Adrien wasn’t, and neither was she, yet here they were. Smiling and trading snide remarks in the privacy of the empty locker room. 

Lila put on a bashful expression. “Oh, please-”

“Of course,” Adrien interrupted her, “there was also Marinette. She was always ready to help someone. It’s a shame she had to transfer schools.”

Lila bit the inside of her cheek to avoid sneering. There he goes again, mentioning that ridiculous baker girl. It’s so infuriating.

“Even though she was a bully? I’m sorry, Adrien, but I don’t think you should forgive someone so easily. They’ll walk all over you if you give them too much leeway.”

Adrien slipped- or rather jerked -his arm out of Lila’s grasp as he exchanged some of his books. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”  

Ah, there it is. That might have been the first genuine comment he’s made during this discussion. 

“What was that?” She asked with feigned politeness.

Adrien straightened and gave her another innocent smile. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if this could all be a big misunderstanding? The phone number that was terrorizing you wasn’t Marinette’s, after all. If you were.. mistaken.. on that story, perhaps you missed something in your other stories. Don’t you think so?”

Lila forced a smile so wide that her cheeks started to hurt. Was this his way of giving her an out? A last chance of mercy? Because if it was, she refused to take it. She’s built this kingdom with nothing but her bare hands, and she’d be darned if she decided to lie down and let him take it away just as quickly. 

“I can’t say I do.”

Adrien closed his locker, a certain glint coming to his eyes when he looked at her. “Well.. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what I find. Won’t we?” 

Rage crackled through Lila’s bones as Adrien walked past her, but she caught herself before doing anything rash. If she was going to counter Adrien’s sudden attacks, she needed to make a deal with him and get him off of her back just long enough to plan. And to do that, she needed to promise him what he apparently wanted most.

“What if it wasn’t her?”

Adrien stopped in the doorway, and Lila held her breath.

“..Because it wasn’t her,” he corrected, “I’ll be hoping that she comes back.”

Lila drew in a deep breath, if only to avoid screaming. Marinette, Marinette, Marinette- Why did he have to have to be so infatuated with Marinette? What could she possibly have that made Adrien want to fight against the whole school to get her back? 

“Alright..” She said, completely calm. “Say you were right. If it happened to turn out that Marinette wasn’t the one responsible and I convince her to come back, will we all be able to get along?”

Bile rose to her mouth as she spoke. The very thought of running back to Marinette and asking her to come back to Dupont made Lila’s stomach churn, but this was fine. She was only promising to bring Marinette back. Promises can easily be broken.

Adrien smiled, but not like the fake, warm smiles he’d been giving her throughout their conversation. No, this one was sharp, predatory, as though he could see right through her words.

“See you in class, Lila.”

The “golden child” left the locker room then, and Lila finally gave in to her frustration and let out a growl. This was supposed to be her victory, her turf, and yet she can’t even enjoy it anymore because Adrien freaking Agreste decided to meddle in business that wasn’t his. He knew that the only reason she was willing to compromise was because he was getting to her, and that burned her up inside. 

She drew in another deep breath and smoothed out her miniature ponytails. This was fine. Everything was fine. Adrien might be deciding to join the squabble a tad later than usual, but Lila invented this game. If he wanted to try his hand at her tactics and strategies, fine. He would soon realize why she was able to climb to the top in the first place.

~~~~~~~

Marinette stared out the car window with awe as they drove up the street towards Allegra’s estate. In the week that led to the group sleepover, Marinette had racked her brain day and night trying to decide what the mansion would be like. How tall would it be? How wide? Would it take up an entire street or a small square of Paris like Gabriel’s? Would there be butlers running around like in the movies or would there be a simple maid or two to keep things moving? Perhaps there wouldn’t be any hired hand at all? The excitement and anticipation made her buzz and bounce through the last few school days at Rosemary, but she refused to ask any questions during the wait for winter break. Marinette wanted the mansion to be a complete surprise. And now that she was finally here, sitting in the backseat of Allegra’s miniature limo and practically pressing her face against the window, she couldn’t be happier with that decision.

Mansions of all kinds lined the sidewalks, bigger and more elegant than she could have ever imagined. Some had marvelous fountains, while others had incredible gardens. Some had amazing walls with ingrained art that lined the premises, and one mansion even had horses grazing on their front lawn! It made her wonder why Gabriel would build his mansion in the middle of the city, or if any of these mansions might belong to Claude, Allan, or Felix. 

Near the end of the street rested a long brick wall that had elaborate, white statues decorating the major corners. Marinette guessed immediately that that was Allegra’s mansion, because the wall wrapped around an enormous white house that had silver railings for the balconies and blue-ish grey tiles for the rooftops, quite contrary to the golds and dark browns that came with the other mansions. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and that seemed like something Allegra would enjoy, even if the house belonged directly to her parents. 

Sure enough, the car rolled to a stop in front of the black metal gate that the brick walls led to, and the driver told Marinette to stay put as he hopped out of the vehicle. She watched quietly as he unlocked the gate by hand using a personal key and quickly found herself wiggling in her seat when he started pushing the gates open. They were so close! Allegra’s mansion was right there! If they didn’t start moving again in two seconds, Marinette might just jump out and start running.

The driver got back into the car with a small apology for the inconvenience- to which she assured him that it was fine through barely contained squeals -and they continued through the gate at a leisure pace, which killed Marinette inside. She wanted to get into the mansion now!

In an effort to remain still, her eyes flicked around the front lawn of the estate. The driveway they had pulled into appeared to be a full circle, looping around an intricate water fountain that spouted bursts of water in such a way that made the water look as though it were dancing.  Diamonds of dark green grass cut through the concrete in the driveway, leading to the rest of the vibrant grass on the lawn, and a delightful mix of bushes and flowers lined the inside of the brick wall as well the outside of the mansion. It struck Marinette as quaint and refined at the same time, and her respects went out to the person- or persons -responsible for designing and maintaining the look.

Finally, the limo parked in front of these wide, marble steps that led to the front door, and the driver barely had time to open Marinette’s back door before she leapt out with her bags in her arms. If the outside was this luxurious, she couldn’t wait to see how breathtaking the inside would be. 

“Thanks for the ride, sir!” She called over her shoulder as she hopped up the steps two-by-two.

“Oh, miss-!” The man yelled after her. “May I take your bags?”

Marinette skidded to a halt and turned around, ready to politely decline his offer, when another voice spoke up behind her.

“No need, Louis! I’ve got them.”

Marinette whirled back around, coming face to face with Allegra, who was now standing in the doorway with a bright smile. 

The blonde reached forward to take the bags with one hand, while giving Marinette a side hug with the other. “I’m so happy you’re here! This is going to be great.”

“I know! I’ve been waiting for this all week! Your house looks amazing.”

A grin spread across Allegra’s lips, and she pulled back from the hug in favor of grabbing Marinette’s hand. “If you like it now, just wait till you see the inside.”

The two girls waltzed inside together, but as soon as she entered, Marinette couldn’t help gasping and breaking away from Allegra to run further into the house. Tiled, marble floors stretched out before her, seemingly farther than the street she had just driven down, and on the other side of the bigger-than-life foyer was a set of large, open windows that touched from the floor of the first level to the ceiling of the second level. They overlooked the backyard, which was equally as enchanting as the front yard, and a part of her had the urge to sit down and stare at them wistfully for a good hour or two.

To her left and right were a pair of long, curved stairs that led to the second floor. They matched the marble tiles on the first floor and had beautiful, metal railings that curled and twisted into different types of flowers and leaves. The railing also trailed off to the open hallways above, where Marinette could see different types of doors lined up. Her restless brain wanted to skip up the stairs, brush her hand across the smooth, black railing, and explore each and every room possible.

Her gaze dragged up to the ceiling, and her jaw fell slack yet again as she realized exactly how high the building was. The circular sunroof that signified the center of the ceiling felt higher than the Eiffel Tower itself, and Marinette was certain that if she called out, it would take at least five seconds to hear her voice echoing back to her.

“Well?” Allegra asked next to her. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Marinette blanched. “Allegra, this is incredible! Do you really live here?”

A musical laugh came from the blonde, and she nodded. “Yep. Ever since I was five. Come on, I’ll give you a tour!”

They made their way to the stairs, and Marinette eagerly ran her hand across the cool railings as she continued to look around. She couldn’t believe how astonishing everything looked. It was as though they’d taken the finest jewels and rocks on earth and merged them together to create this mansion. How did they even afford all of this?

“What did you say your mom did again?”

Allegra glanced over at her. “My mom? She’s a-”

“Hey!”

The two girls paused mid step and looked up at the open hallway. Claude stood just above them, leaning over the railing and waving with a wide grin. Allan stood behind him, also offering the girls a friendly smile as a greeting.

“Is that Marinette?” Claude called.

“Yep! She just got here.”

“Sweet!” The brunette cheered. He dashed from his place upstairs and, once he got a good enough momentum, jumped to a stop, using his socks to slide the rest of the way to the stairwell. “We’ve been waiting forever for you to show up!”

Marinette giggled and ran up the rest of the stairway to give Claude a hug. “I got my clothes together as fast as I could.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Allan assured as he came to join them. “You’re technically early anyway.”

“I thought I was.” Marinette remarked, pulling away from Claude to give Allan a small hug as well. “Is Felix here too?”

“Nope, it’s just us right now.” Claude answered with a smile. “We already had clothes here from previous sleepovers.”

“They practically have their own personal closets at this point.” Allegra snorted. Then, she gave Marinette a playful nudge. “And soon, so will you.”

Marinette smiled. She wasn’t sure that she even had enough clothes to fill another closet, but it didn’t stop her from feeling giddy towards receiving one. Having a personal closet at Allegra’s meant she would be coming over much more often, and that was something she desperately wanted to do at this point.

“Have you shown her around yet?” Claude asked.

“Nope. I was gonna show her my room first, though, so I can put her bags down in there.”

“Oh, good idea.” The brunette remarked, taking the opportunity to snag Marinette’s bags from Allegra’s hands. “Let’s go! You’re gonna love it, Mari.”

With everyone together- save for Felix -the group eagerly clambered down the hallway that Claude and Allan had previously been in. The black railway from the staircase continued to twist down the hall next to Marinette, and when it finally stopped at a wall, Claude stopped at a doorway to his right. Glittering stickers arched across the door, spelling out the word “Allegra”.

“Those are from when I was, like, nine.” Allegra commented, a hint of a blush on her cheeks as she opened her bedroom door.

Marinette was about to say that it was fine- she actually found the lettering to be endearing -but any form of words or replies were lost on her when she saw the bedroom for the first time.

Everything was covered in light purples and white, with occasional bits of gold and light blue to accent the room. An enormous, deep purple bed with swirling, golden patterns sat in the center, holding pillows that were bigger than Marinette’s bed alone and a comfort that looked fluffier than her warmest ear-muffs. A pair of blue, see-through curtains wrapped around the bed as well, reminding her of something a princess might own. 

Across the room- which was twice the size of her little attic bedroom -were two white shelves that stretched from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. They held various things such as books, notebooks, miniature glass statues, and plenty of other trinkets that struck Marinette as charming. She wondered how long it must have taken Allegra to collect such things, or if she bought them all in one go as she decorated her room. There were even a few crystal wind-chimes hanging around the room. 

“This is..” Marinette wasn’t sure what it was as she walked inside, star-struck. The girl even had her own chandelier, for Pete’s sake! Then there was the massive vanity with a million different types of eyeshadow- all aligned perfectly in an orderly fashion -and the massive desk on the other side of the room that had a fancy paperweight and a nice, little trinket to hold all of Allegra’s pencils and such for school. Don’t get her started on the chair hanging from the ceiling that looked equally fancy and comfortable.

“Do I really get to sleep in here?” She eventually asked instead. Words couldn’t describe her thoughts on the room or how it looked like something out of a daydream. 

Allegra laughed. “Yep! We’re actually going to be spending most of the night here.”

“After we go swimming, of course.” Claude added as he set Marinette’s bags down in the walk-in closet.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the remark. She’d almost forgotten why she came here in the first place. “Where is the swimming pool?”

“It’s downstairs.” Allegra answered. “I can’t wait for you to see it. We have a water slide and everything.”

Marinette would have gasped, but after what she’s seen so far, she wouldn’t be surprised if they had their own personal zoo. “Can we go see it?”

“Absolutely!” The blonde smiled, looping her arm with Marinette’s. “But first, we need to finish our tour.”

The group made their way out of Allegra’s room and started exploring each door they passed. Claude, Allan, and Allegra took turns explaining each room’s purpose to Marinette, and she absorbed their words as best she could. Most of the time, though, she was lost in her thoughts, completely awed by the structure of the household.

Each room appeared to be bigger than the last, and some of them had Marinette nearly falling over from the amount of money that had to have gone into the décor. There were offices and dining halls and bigger bedrooms for Allegra’s parents. Then there were game rooms with pool tables and living rooms with couches that stretched around the entire room so everyone could see each other. Vases and sculptures lined the hallways and hid in the corners while extensive family portraits littered walls and held personal places on overly huge fireplaces. 

In a word, the entire mansion was extravagant, especially for a three-person family, but despite the overwhelming amount of space, Marinette could feel the warmth and familial love of each room. A multitude of memories resided in the walls, and she couldn’t wait to hear all of them.

One room in particular caught her attention the most.

“What is this place?” Marinette asked as she walked into another wide-spread room. Musical instruments of all kinds littered the area- harps, violins, cellos, pianos, guitars, mandolins, and other things she couldn’t even name. They all appeared to be in mint condition, so clean that she could see her reflection in them, and the little kid in Marinette wanted to run around and try each one of them.

“This,” Allegra said next to her, “is our music room.”

“Music room..” Marinette whispered as her hand ran over a pair of literal bongos. “Can you actually play all of these?”

Claude snorted behind them. “She definitely wishes she could.”

Allegra scoffed and smacked his arm with a playful glare. 

“No, I can’t play all of them.. But I’m working on it.”

“Wow.” Marinette muttered. That had to be time consuming. Where did she find the drive to keep practicing all of these? 

“..Can I touch them?”

“Oh, yeah! Touch them all. Go crazy. I can even teach you how to play a little tune for some of them if you want.”

Marinette lit up. “Can you really?”

Allegra chuckled. “Of course. We have all night, don’t we?”

Marinette had to bite her tongue to avoid squealing again, and she promptly darted off to try everything she could. Any strings and keys would be briefly plucked and pressed before being cast away for the next instrument. She would thump on the drums and blow on the tubas and, occasionally, she would stop to try a few simple tunes on an instrument that sounded especially enchanting to her. 

After about thirty minutes of this heaven- there were a lot of instruments -someone knocked on the doorframe at the front of the room, gathering the group’s attention.

A man with light brown hair stood in the doorway, offering an easy, yet apologetic smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Allegra, who had been teaching Marinette how to play the Panda Drum, hopped up from her position on the floor to greet him with a hug. “Not at all! I was just showing Marinette around the house. Mari, this is my dad, Arthur. Dad, this is Marinette, my friend from school that I’ve been telling you about.”

Marinette set the drum aside and stood up as well. “It’s nice to meet you, M. Chanson.”

“Oh, please.” M. Chanson held up a dismissive hand. “Just call me Arthur. Or even Uncle Arthur, if you like.”

A soft smile spread across Marinette’s lips, and she nodded. He sounded exactly like Maman when someone new came to their house.

“Anyway, I just came by to drop off the last bit of your group. He found me in the kitchen while looking for you.” Arthur said. He then stepped to the side to reveal none other than Felix, who had apparently been standing behind him the whole time.

Marinette perked up at the sight of the blond. “Oh, Felix! You’re here!”

“Here late.” Claude added with a smirk.

Felix shot him a look. “I’m not late. I told you all that I wouldn’t quite be here at the same time as everyone else.”

“Telling us that you’re going to be late doesn’t mean that you weren’t late.” Allegra pointed out. “It just means that you were considerate about your tardiness.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was correct, and Marinette pursed her lips to avoid laughing, because she also knew that Allegra was correct.

“So I see you’ve been showing her my instruments?” Arthur cut in, redirecting the conversation.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “These are your instruments?”

Arthur chuckled. “Yep. In fact, I taught Allegra everything she knows.”

“You mean you can actually play all of them?”

“Well, some better than others,” The man responded with a half shrug, “but yeah. I’m honestly a little disappointed that A didn’t come get me when she showed you the room.”

Allegra winced. “Oh, sorry, Dad. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“That’s amazing..” Marinette remarked, dumbfounded. She couldn’t imagine having enough memory to know how each individual instrument was played. 

Arthur tilted his head back and forth with a hum. “I wouldn’t say amazing. A lot of these instruments are extremely similar to how they’re played, and at some point, once you’ve learned enough, you start to realize that a lot of music has a certain order to it. When you know that order, it makes playing a lot easier.”

“Oh, don’t be modest.” Allegra scolded. “Who else can play almost all of the instruments of the world and memorize any new instruments within a week?”

Before Arthur could respond, Allegra turned to Marinette with a proud smile and continued.

“Dad’s able to combine these instruments like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. It’s like he’s memorized every string, key, or chord possible! He’s even written songs for us too. Some of them are just funny little melodies to go with Claude’s acts, but others are full songs that he performs for me and Mom. Sometimes, when Mom’s stressed, he’ll sing or play for her to help her relax. I personally think that the songs he writes then are the best ones.”

The more she talked, the more bashful Arthur became, and Marinette couldn’t help cooing at the man. The thought of someone writing songs for the person they loved and singing them when that person felt down brought a wonderful warmth to her chest. It actually reminded her of another sweet boy she knew, one with blue-tipped hair and a smile that could melt the arctic.

“I have a friend like that.” She decided to say. Why not tell the others about him too? “He has a passion for the guitar and plays songs for me when I feel down too. It’s so calming.”

Something in her tone or expression must have caught their interest, because the group’s attention shifted from Allegra to Marinette in an instant. Before she could ask about the sudden change, Claude slipped an arm around her shoulders, flashing her a sly grin.

“Oh? A friend, you say?” He drawled. “You sound pretty fond of him. What’s his name?”

An involuntary blush crept across Marinette’s cheeks, more so at the implication in Claude’s voice than anything else. After two years of hanging around Alya, with her raised eyebrows and coy smiles, she could tell when someone was trying to accuse her of certain feelings towards another. 

“O-Oh. uhm.. His name is Luka.”

“Luka..” Allegra hummed. “I’ve never heard you mention his name before.”

“And I’ve never seen her blush like that before, either.” Claude teased. “You’re not being very subtle, Nette.”

Marinette felt her blush deepen, even though they both knew she was easily flustered. She’s probably blushed a million times in the month that she’s known them, and most of those blushes were definitely darker than the one she was wearing even now.

Her gaze flicked to Felix, curious as to what he thought on the matter. His expression remained neutral, though she spotted a bit of intrigue in his eyes. It didn’t help with her guilt towards the comments.

Then again, why should she feel guilty? Even if she did like Luka, that wouldn’t affect anyone here. There was no reason to be ashamed.

Nevertheless, she still wanted to slip her way out of getting teased, so she jokingly rolled her eyes and said, “You guys said we were going to go swimming, right? Felix is here, and it’s getting dark so we should probably change before it gets too late.”

“The pool is indoors.” Claude helpfully reminded. “It doesn’t matter how late it gets.”

“But that was a good try at dodging, though.” Allegra smirked.

A squeak flew from Marinette’s lips before she could stop it, and the trio shared a laugh.

“Come on, guys.” Allan lightly scolded. “If you keep messing with her like this, she might spontaneously combust.”

Another laugh tumbled from Claude’s lips before he let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, fine. I guess we can go swimming now.”

“Marinette has to cool off, anyway.” Allegra added with a wink.

Marinette groaned and put her head in her hands, if only to hide her ever-growing blush. 

Mental note: Never mention a boy to the group again, because they will probably see right through you when it’s actually serious.

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 

#felinette #Marinette #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block

[dameronology]

one hell of a mandalorian {din djarin}

summary: actions speak louder than words - which is good for din djarin, because he's not very good at words. (this was a commission for an anon! i hope you enjoy).

warnings: language

enjoy!! if you're interested in commissions, you can find out more here :)

- jazz xx

Din Djarin was a man of few words.

That had become clear not long after you'd met.

It wasn't that he didn't like talking, or that he was rude - he'd just never had the need for it. The Mandalorian could spend days and days in hyperspace, on his own with nothing but a frozen bounty to keep him company. And they were hardly chatty, even before they were thrown away into the trawling depths of carbonite animation. There were a few select geniuses who tried to make conversation with him in a last-ditch attempt to appeal to his humanity and beg for mercy, but so far, they'd had a zero-for-zero success rate. It wasn't that he didn't have any humanity to appeal to it - because he did, and his weird, green surrogate kid was an absolute testament to that - but it just took a little bit for it to come out.

The beskar made him seem a little...robotic. Like a droid, which was ironic, because he wouldn't have gone near the things with a ten-foot-barge pole. Din had just become so used to people seeing his mask and his intimidating posture before him that having human traits, like feelings and thoughts and opinions, had never been any use. Having defining traits and a personality was all well and good, but nothing helped you through the galaxy quite like the ability to put the fear of God in people.

The Mandalorian was something, but Din Djarin was somebody. He was good; not necessarily pure and golden-hearted like a typical comic book hero, but he had a strong moral compass. Sometimes, it pointed in opposite directions, but he helped those who needed it and he paid his dues. That was probably a lot more than anyone in the galaxy could have said for themselves. In the fight of good and bad, in a world that existed entirely and black and white, there was nothing more grey than an honest man. Somebody who refused to pick a side held the power of both. For that, Din could have either been extremely smart, or extremely dumb.

Sometimes, he was extremely dumb. Made the wrong moves in combat, or got too cocky, however out of character it was for him. It was the losing fights that truly brought out the human side of Din, and it took a very, very specific eye to see it, sometimes to the point where even he missed it. It never went over your head, though.

You'd joined the crew on the Razor Crest as a mechanic - then you became a baby sitter, and his partner-in-crime, and the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend. His non-verbal nature meant that most of his emotional cues came in the physical form. It went over the heads of everybody else, but between your intuition, and the time spent in such a cramped space, it quickly became like a second language to you. Helmet tilts when he was confused, and little nods when he was pleased; tensed shoulders when the Mandalorian was nervous and balled fists when he was about to absolutely lose his shit.

Today was one of those days. Even though you were both in one piece and the baby was - by some absolute fucking miracle - asleep, it almost hadn't been that way. Nevarro had been quieter than usual, and Din had let his guard down; finally convinced himself to relax a tiny bit and ever-so-slightly loosen the stick that was firmly up his backside. His sudden lack of awareness for your surroundings had meant that someone managed to track the Crest, however briefly. The kid had barely noticed, and you weren't phased by what had been a simple, human mistake. Din, true to nature, was already beating himself up for it.

That was evidenced by his heavy footsteps, and the way he'd immediately retreated to the cockpit and slammed the door. Common sense would have entailed that he wanted to be left alone, but you'd long surpassed the point of any of that. Common sense didn't exist in a galaxy like this one. Doing the obvious thing was, nine times out of ten, usually the wrong way. Expecting the unexpected was the right way to go.

You'd paced outside the door for the better part of fifteen minutes - to go in, or to not go in, that was the question. You were torn between wanting to give Din space and wanting to be there for him; a cranky Din was often an unbearable one, but you cared deeply for him. Maybe a little too much, but that was a can of worms to open later.

"Din?" You gently called. Nothing. "I know you're brooding, or whatever it is you do under that helmet, but talking is good."

"I'm fine."

You sighed. "The scale goes great, good, bad, awful, world-ending and then fine."

"I've never heard that before in my life."

"Yeah, I just made it up on the spot." You murmured.

Resting your hand against the doorknob, you pondered for a moment. Did you want to risk it by going in? Making him mad when he was literally shutting you out? It was hard to know what to do with Din - it wasn't like he came with an answer key, or even a vague manual that could point you in the right direction. It was all just guess work.

"Is the helmet on?" You softly asked.

"Yeah."

You took that as a sign - with a deep breath, you gently opened the door and stepped inside the cockpit, shutting it quietly behind you. The tense atmosphere inside was almost enough to swallow you whole. The man practically radiated angst.

"Talk to me." You took a seat beside him.

"There's nothing to say."

"Bullshit." You murmured. "You might have a thousand inches of beskar hiding your face but your body language is a dead giveaway."

"I'm meant to protect you and the kid." He replied. It wasn't much, but it was better than silence. "It's my job to catch bad people and outrun them when I need."

"You did outrun them." You reminded him. "I'm safe. You're safe. The kid is safe. Does anything else matter?"

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place." Din said. "I was relaxed-"

"- you allowed to relax." You cut him off. "Despite your best efforts, you're a human being."

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand over Din's ungloved palm. He didn't resist or try to brush you away. His hands were soft and callous in equal measures, which felt like a fitting metaphor for him on the whole. You tangled your fingers in his and held on tightly, perhaps in a sad attempt to remind him that you were there.

But Din knew you were there - he could feel it constantly, and he thought about it just as much. Every day of his life prior to you had been filled with rigidity and angst, then you'd come waltzing in and for the first time in years, he'd untensed his muscles and stopped looking over his shoulder. Learnt to take a breath and enjoy the simple things in life, like Grogu laughing or you accidentally tripping over a tree branch. You'd become so important to him that the prospect of losing you was too much for him to even fathom. He'd come close today - too close - and it had been an eye-opener. The irony was that telling you why he was so fucking scared was more frightening than the entire thing itself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." The gentle pull of your voice lulled him back to reality. "Please?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You breathily smiled. "You don't have to apologise."

"I never thought I'd have someone like you." Din admitted. "Coming so close to losing you was terrifying, even if it wasn't that close at all."

He'd never been so open about his feeling towards you before. Obviously, you knew that he viewed you in a way he didn't see anybody else, but that knowledge had been based entirely on physical cues and mere guesswork. You'd never expected him to vocalise the way he felt, or even acknowledge them. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, or even something you considered to be detrimental. The words came as a nice surprise.

"You mean a lot to me, Din." You said. He'd always loved the way his name sounded when you said it; nobody had used it for years, not since he'd lost his parents. It was something to vulnerable and personal. You were the only one he trusted with it.

"I do?"

You didn't mean to laugh at that - you really didn't, but it just came out. A low snort of disbelief; shock at his absolute inability to read the fucking room. Din was as intuitive as they came, with the ability to read criminals like a bedtime story he'd been rehearsing since he was a kid. Then it came to you, and he knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. To call him clueless would be the understatement of the century.

"Maker." You murmured. "Of course you do - more than anyone or anything."

"You're special to me." Din replied. "It scares me sometimes."

Din was straight forward with everything he said - it was just finding the courage to say it. He'd gone into battle with Imps and Republic Rangers alike; fought krayt dragons and droids and fellow Mandalorians and yet this entire thing shook him to his very core more than anything else.

You didn't know it, but you were perfectly holding his gaze. Staring right through it and looking right into his soul. He forgot he had one sometimes. It was probably a little dusty and covered in cobwebs, but it was there, and you were bringing it right out of him and back to reality.

Din used his grip on your hands to pull you a little closer - a moment later, he gently pressed the cold metal of his helmet to his forehead. It was the closest you'd ever been to him, even if it wasn't that close at all. You could hear his soft breathing through the modulator, the sensation acting as a stunning reminder that there was a person underneath there. There were times when you forgot, or felt a little disconnected from the idea entirely. You'd never felt the need to see his face, though - you hadn't a clue what he might look like, but at the same time, you had an image of him in your head. It was as clear as day; as bright as the suns on Tatooine and as persevering as the kid's insistence that he receive all your attention, all the time.

You knew what the action was; a Keldabe kiss. The Mandalorian had recounted its meaning to you not long after you'd met - he'd finally let his barriers down and let you plague him with questions about his culture and the creed, and you'd stumbled on the subject. Initially, you'd been entertained by the fact that it two such vastly different meanings. On one hand, it could be a headbutt. A beskar punch to knock the daylights out of anyone who particularly annoyed you. On the other hand, it was almost a romantic gesture; a way that Mandalorians could show their affection to one another without having to remove their armour.

Din had the latter meaning in mind, but also so much more. He was giving you a piece of his culture - including you in the very thing that defined him as a person.

"It won't happen again." The Mandalorian gently said. "I'll never let you get hurt again. I promise."

"I know." You softly smiled. Your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the cool metal against your forehead. "For what it's worth, I have your back too."

He softly chuckled. "Thank you."

You gently pulled back, eyes meeting again (not that you could tell).

"Seriously!" You said. "I can be a bad-ass."

"You can be a lot of things." Din replied. "You're one hell of a girl."

"And you're one hell of a Mandalorian."

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem! reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian imagines #mandalorian fluff #din djarin fluff #star wars x reader #star wars characters #star wars x you #star wars imagines

[fic-for-fic-sake]

Playing with Fire

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: Slight foreplay but not even

A/N: This is not at all somewhat loosely inspired by events happening in my everyday life...shut up. 

You, Wanda, and Nat decided to have a girls night. In a team full of male ego’s, sometimes the testosterone got too strong to bear so you three called in a girls night. It wasn’t the typical slumber party vibes you had seen in the movies. Instead of makeovers and candy it was sparring and wine. The two weren’t exactly meant for each other but with enhanced individuals getting drunk was pretty much off the table anyway. 

You were in the middle of throwing knives at Wanda, who was expertly dodging them, while Nat was going on about her latest mission with Clint. 

“I mean it was fine but it wasn’t Budapest, you know?” She complained between reps. You chuckled under your breath and Nat clocked it. “What?” 

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just, I may have made a tiny little drinking game.” You explained, going over to the wine bottles and taking a swig to emphasize your point. “Every time you bring up Budapest I take a drink.” 

“I don’t bring it up that much.” She fired back. 

Wanda gave her a pointed look, not even having to open her mouth to say where she stood on the matter. 

“Fine,” Nat began, “if you guys have to drink when I mention Budapest then I get to drink when Y/N talks about Loki.” 

You instantly regretted bringing up the drinking game. You coughed a bit as wine got caught in the wrong pipe. “I do NOT talk about him that much.” All it took was another pointed look from Wanda to know that that was complete and utter bullshit. 

“Yeah but that’s different because I’m not in a relationship with Loki.” 

“But you want to be.” Wanda noted, taking the wine bottle from your hands and drinking a long pull, winking at you as she did. 

“Whether I want it or not is irrelevant.” You insisted, suddenly wishing you could steer the conversation into literally any other direction. 

“And why is that?” Nat asked, coming over to where you and Wanda stood and arching a crimson eyebrow at you. 

“Because, Loki is, he’s…” 

“Bad news.” Wanda offered at the same time Nat said “Trouble.” 

“Exactly.” You confirmed. “So whatever feelings I may or may not have will promptly be shoved down into the very darkest corner of my mind until they simply cease to exist.” 

“How has that worked for you in the past?” Nat inquired. 

“It’s worked out just fine, thank you very much.” 

“And how many relationships have you been in?” Wanda questioned. 

“None.” You replied automatically. “Fuck.” 

Sensing your not-so-inner turmoil Wanda gave you back the bottle of wine which you proceeded to polish off. 

“He doesn’t even pay attention to me anyway.” You tried to justify to them. 

“Didn’t you guys talk for like two hours last Wednesday?” Wanda pointed out. 

“Yeah, we did, it was actually a really nice conversation.” You recalled. 

You had been sitting in the library reading when Loki walked in, looking stunning in what he considered to be casual clothes, which had been laughable. While his forest green tunic and tailored black pants had certainly been a step down from his battle armor, it was a far cry from casual, at least by mortal standards. 

He had asked what book you were reading which then led to a discussion about the different types of Midardian literature and the crossovers with Asgardian books. And that had lent itself to him offering to give you some Asgardian books so you could see if you liked them or not. True to his word, later that night you found a stack of four books sitting outside your door with a note from Loki telling you that he had enchanted them to automatically translate from Asgardian to English.

“So...how can you say he doesn’t pay attention to you?” Nat asked, rolling her eyes as if you were oblivious to the attention he had given you. Which, of course, you weren’t. You had finished two of the books already and were chomping at the bit to tell Loki what you thought of them. But there was only one problem. 

“He hasn’t spoken to me since.” You confessed, feeling suddenly very small and stupid. 

“That doesn’t make sense...not even a word?” Wanda asked, so gently you thought your heart would shatter. 

“But see, it does make sense. Because this is what he does. He’ll talk to me and make me feel like I’m the only person in the world and then he’ll fuck off for God knows how long and swoop in just as I’m giving up hope that he’ll ever speak to me again. He has me on his hook and he knows it. But none of that even matters.” 

“Because you’re shoving your feelings down?” Nat offered. 

“Yes, and because he has a girlfriend.” You said, feeling your heart sink as the weight of your words hit you. It’s not like you had expected anything to happen between you two but him being in a relationship was like closing a door you never expected to be open to you to begin with. It hurt and you hated to admit that it hurt and you hated him for making it hurt. 

“Yeah, I had heard Thor talking about Loki and Sygn earlier. How do you feel?” Wanda asked, handing you another bottle of wine. 

“Fine, I feel fine. I literally couldn’t care less.” You lied as you pried the cork out of the bottle and drank a good portion before giving it to Nat. “Okay, enough about me, let’s hear about everyone else.” 

And that was that. For the next few months Loki kept up his sporadic contact with you but he had a girlfriend and you weren’t about to make an even bigger fool of yourself than you probably already had. So you stopped expecting him to talk to you. Stopped sitting straighter when he walked into a room and stopped being disappointed when he didn’t notice you. 

Four months after your girls night with Nat and Wanda there was a Friday night get together with the whole team, Tony’s idea. He said it would be good for bonding. You had gotten the text when you were on your way back from a date. Nothing much, just a casual meet up in Central Park, nothing to write home about. She was fine. A pretty blonde with soft brown eyes and a good laugh but that was it. She was fine. She wasn’t what you were looking for, who you were looking for. As soon as the thought entered your head you promptly shoved it away. He was taken and you just needed to go on a date with someone different that was all. 

You looked at your appearance in the elevator mirror on the ride up. You considered changing out of your light blue floral sundress before the gathering with the team but it appeared it wasn’t meant to be as you could already hear voices bleeding through the doors before they opened. 

You walked out to a mock whistle from Sam which made you dip into a mock bow before you made your way to the kitchen island and fixed yourself a drink. 

“That bad?” Nat smiled as you took a swig of the gin and tonic. 

“It was fine.” You replied, shrugging. “I have another tomorrow so we’ll see.” 

“Another what?” Thor called from the couch, his hand around a glass of amber liquid that you suspected was something much stronger than scotch. 

“Another date!” Nat called out in reply, smiling encouragingly at you. 

“Was the one today not satisfactory?” Thor questioned. 

You rolled your eyes, “it was Fine. Honestly both of you it was fine.” 

“Don’t worry doll, you’re not the only one in the dating game.” Bucky said from the fridge, grabbing himself another beer. 

“Bucky, if you’re about to tell me that you and Steve broke up I will believe that love is truly dead.” 

“Not us doll.” He shook his head and tried and failed to hide his amusement. 

“Then who?” You were very confused and nobody was making things any easier on you. 

“Me.” The voice came from behind you and it chilled you to the bone. You turned to find Loki leaning against the wall fixing the cufflinks on his black suit. His demeanor showed a complete lack of interest but the way his emerald eyes held you in place had a predatory grace that both excited and scared you. 

Loki had been gone for a month on a diplomatic mission and you had heard nothing from him in the meantime. It had been so easy to put him out of your mind, but now you wondered how you could have thought of anything but him. 

“Oh.” Was all you could bring yourself to say. As your heart sped up to a gallop and heat flooded through your body at the way he was looking at you. He shouldn’t be looking at you like that, he had just said he broke up with his girlfriend. You shouldn’t want him to be looking at you like that, you had moved on, hadn’t you? Apparently your body hadn’t gotten the message from your head yet, stupid body. 

One hour and two drinks later you were all sitting around the large kitchen table, each absorbed in their own conversations. You were talking to Tony and Bruce and Loki was in a conversation with his brother but he was only half listening. The other part of him kept sneaking glances at you and you could feel his eyes on your body like a physical touch. After you caught his eye one too many times you excused yourself to the bathroom. You needed to get a hold of yourself. 

You didn’t need this selective attention bullshit again. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t stand spending hours talking to each other one day only for him to not speak to you for days on end after. No, you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror and resolved yourself to go back out there and not care. Not to feel his glances on you, not to acknowledge his presence, not to speak to him or play into his games like a fool. Because you weren’t a fool. Pep talk done, you unlocked the door and walked straight into a wall of black. 

You startled and tried to push yourself away only to feel slender arms wrap around your waist and legs walk you back into the bathroom. You managed a few paces back and found yourself looking into Loki’s eyes. They really were the most magnificent shade of green. Damnit. 

“Loki, what are you doing here?” You asked, still too stunned to wonder why he backed you into the bathroom. 

“I’ve been gone for a month and that’s the question you ask me?” He leaned against the door, folded his arms over his chest, and crossed one slender leg over the other. Fuck him for being so attractive right now. 

“You don’t get to do that.” You stated, leafing through your emotions until you found one that suited you, anger. You were angry with him for having you on his hook, angry with him for his sense of entitlement, and angry with him for being attractive. To be fair, the last one wasn’t really his fault. 

“Do what?” He asked, like he really didn’t know what he was doing. 

“You don’t get to go literal months without speaking to me and then demand why I’m not talking to you when you’ve been back all of two hours.” 

“Actually I got home last week.” He replied coolly, pushing off of the door and taking a step closer to you. You rebuffed his advance by taking a step backwards. 

“Thank you for proving my point to me.” 

“What point?” 

“Don’t be obtuse.” You chided. “You’ve been home a week now, haven’t sought me out at all in that time mind you, but now you’re upset that I didn’t speak to you?” 

“I broke up with Sygn.” He said, taking another step towards you, and you took one back in kind. 

“So I’ve heard.” 

“I’ve missed you.” He crooned, advancing towards you until your back was forced against the counter top. 

“And what, exactly, have you missed?” You replied hotly. “Ignoring me until the last possible moment? Making me look pathetic for wanting even a scrap of your attention?” 

He took his thumb and index finger, placed them on your chin, and tilted it up at the same time he lowered his head to your shoulder. 

“Come now darling, I don’t think you’re pathetic.” He breathed into the crook of your neck. Your pulse skyrocketed as your breath hitched and you let out a whimper. Your nails dug into the marble counter in an effort to keep from touching him the way you wanted. To keep from running your fingers through his thick black locks. 

“Loki, I can’t do this.” You pleaded in a whisper even as his hands came to settle on your waist, even as he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter top and stood squarely between your legs, making your dress ride up to your mid thighs. 

“Can’t do what?” He questioned, placing feather light kisses along the column of your throat as his hands moved slowly up your newly exposed thighs. 

You tried to steady yourself even as you felt the throbbing need between your legs and his own need pressed against you. 

“Being near you is like playing with fire, and pretty soon I’m going to get burned.” You huffed, caught between wanting him to stop and wanting him to continue, oh please God continue. 

“Oh pet, haven’t you heard?” He questioned, bringing his lips a hair's breadth away from yours, “I’ve more an affinity for ice.”

#loki x reader #mcu fanfic #loki x you #loki fanfic #does this mean my hiatus is over #maybe #reader insert fanfic #loki mcu

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 06 part two

(Masterpost)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Bathing Boy Beauties

So, now we and Wei Wuxian get to see Lan Wangji with his shirt off. Eventually Lan Wangji will realize that his brother set this up, and will think of some way to get back at him, possibly by spending three years being stubborn in a cave or maybe by chopping an arm off of someone his brother cares about. 

This is A+ Yibo fanservice but it's also a male-male version of a trope that's ubiquitous in c-drama, in which the male lead takes a bath and the female lead sees him. The purpose of the scene is almost always so a woman can look a man’s body over and decide, not to put too fine a point on it, whether she wants to fuck him. 

Examples:

The Pillow Book - “Which part of Shen Ye is better than me?”

Women’s sexual agency is not often at the forefront in c-dramas, but the bathtub scenes are an acknowledgement of the female gaze, and of male objects of desire being subject to evaluation & approval.

Tientsin Mystic is a show with a lot of muscley swimming in it, In case you’re looking for your next Netflix show. 

As a CGI artist I have to mention that water does not reflect or refract 100% of light. If you look at a naked dingle-having person in a bathtub full of clear water you will definitely be able to see their dingle. But C-drama water is magic and nothing is visible below the waterline, to the point that Bai Yu is modestly covering his thoracic surgery scar chest in Detective L while leaving his lower half uncovered.

Note: that caption isn’t fake; she is really saying this on her way out the door, after having a long chat with him in the bathroom. You can find the whole series on YouTube.

Seen in this context, The Untamed’s two bathing scenes are saying quite a lot. Wei Wuxian, being a boy, doesn’t display any female-encoded shyness or modesty, but he and his sword pause for a moment of admiration.

(more after the cut!)

16 years later, Lan Wangji will sit quietly in this pool and let Wei Wuxian examine his wet body thoroughly from multiple angles, in a more prolonged invocation of this C-drama mating ritual.

Carrying on - was Xiao Zhan supposed to kick his boot in the water like that? Because if not, he rolls with it like a champ.

Wei Wuxian starts trying to be direct with Lan Wangji, giving him the worst, most neg-filled compliment ever, bless his heart.  

Then he says that there are benefits to being his friend, and starts taking off his clothes.

Wei Wuxian here takes his first step into the bold new world of respecting Lan Wangji’s boundaries, asking Lan Wangji to stay and saying he will keep his clothes on. 

Lan Wangji actually does stay, so he's apparently not too angry with Wei Wuxian about the drinking. Wei Wuxian invites him to visit Lotus Pier sometime (see my gifset here), but the promise of lotus pods doesn’t impress him. Then Wei Wuxian tries to tell him that the Yunmeng chicks really knock me out, they leave the rest behind. This also doesn’t impress him. 

You could read this macking-on-ladies talk as a sign that Wei Wuxian is oblivious to LWJ's feelings for him. But I read it as a bisexual boy being horny on main with a boy he likes, not  understanding yet that some boys don’t share all of his turn-ons.

Lan Wangji is sort of mildly startled when Wei Wuxian disappears under the water. His eye makeup is good here, isn’t it?.

Ice Cave

They end up in an ice cave and both spend the rest of the episode showing how good they look with wet hair. 

When the guqin starts attacking, Lan Wangji is only mildly perturbed about Wei Wuxian getting his shit rocked over and over.

Eventually he sends Bichen to protect his very bedraggled date. Lan Wangji’s sword is faster than the speed of a very slow sound wave.

Beauty's where you find it not just where you bump and grind it 

Gusuship Down

I feel like there are a couple of things in this show that are so problematic the fandom has silently agreed to never discuss them. Well, I’m here to talk about this one:

There are rabbits in this ice cave and they are wearing headbands. HEADbands. On RABBits.  

EXCELLENT FUCKING QUESTION, LAN WANGJI

*deep breath*

Are these rabbits lineal Lan descendants? Who makes the headbands? How do they stay on because “headband” here means “glowing cloud on forehead” without any actual band.  When rabbit babies are born, how do they stay safe while they’re waiting for someone to make them baby-sized headbands? Do these rabbits adhere to the other 3499 Lan Clan principles or just the headband one? Is any ol' rabbit allowed to touch a rabbit’s headband or is it limited to parents and significant others and is that even relevant when presumably these bunnies are all fucking each other like...bunnies?

The characters are like “oh, the rabbits are wearing headbands; killer guqin problem solved.” And then they move right the fuck along with their lives and the rabbit headbands are never seen or discussed again and I just want a hit of whatever the author or creative team was smoking when they came up with this whole idea.

Headband Sharing

When Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji to hand over his headband, Lan Wangji understands his entire rabbit-based thought process without asking

Gen-X Joke Alert

Wei Wuxian is awfully impressed by this sword-recall trick, considering that he did it himself when they went to the lake.

I see you know your way around a sheath

Killer Guqin

When they approach the guqin I hope that the subtitles are mistranslated, because Wei Wuxian keeps promising not to touch it and then says he can't look at it without touching it. I'm not going to touch it, I just need to touch it. 

Lan Wangji is going to teach Wei Wuxian some goddamn boundaries no matter how many times he has to make him fondle his sword.

Nothing suggestive here

Lan Wangji sits down to play the guqin and immediately goes off into the ether where there are seagull noises and plenty of fans. This is either a state of pure bliss, or he just really likes seagulls.

Did Lan Wangji just have a stealth orgasm?

Speaking of getting off, get your ass off of my desk

The Yin Iron

Lan Wangji does some spirit whispering, and suddenly the cave starts yelling at them. A bunch of clans are chanting in unison about a plan, which is the cultivator version of a battle cry.

Lancestor Lan Yi shows up. She is elegant and has a combination of sweetness and gravity that is similar to Lan Xichen’s. And none of Lan Qiren’s douchiness.

Search Party

Lan Qiren is worried and Lan Xichen is worried and they have sent people to look for the boys. It's really too bad nobody around here knows magic.

All these powerful cultivators search for missing people by running around outdoors yelling for them. 

Yanli is excused from PE class because she’s not feeling well, so she sits on a rock in the woods instead of, you know, staying home in the first place. She gets bored sitting down and unwisely decides to walk two or three steps. Xuan Lu, seen here competing in a gymnastics event, gamely pretends she can’t climb a small rock. 

Yanli falls into Jin Zixuan's arms and they gaze at each other for a long heterosexual moment. 

No homosexual explanation possible

This means two things: 1. he isn't looking very hard for her brother if he's hanging out here catching wobbly girls 2. soulful longing looks from him ain't shit, because he's going to dump her in the next episode.

Lanny Granny

Lan Wangji intros himself to Lan Yi and does a full prostrate bow. Wei Wuxian does a standing bow since he's not a descendant, just a future in-law.

No I mean come on, HEADBANDS

Lan Gran explains the entire history of the yin iron. It's bad, it's full of resentful energy, no-one should use it. She’s going to dump it on a couple of 16 year old boys, one of whom has a woody for using resentful energy, because it’s destiny and her battery is about to run out. 

Props to the Prop Department; this thing does look pretty cool

Xue Chonghai was the most problematic cultivator back in the old days. He killed a lot of dudes and fed their resentment to...a turtle? To the disk? I don’t know; I literally am unable to pay attention when anyone is explaining the intricacies of the unobtanium Yin Iron. 

Anyway there’s a disk and it’s soaked up a lot of resentment.  

Using it makes people evil. Well except..clearly this dude started off evil, yeah? If he was feeding people to his turtle.

Side effects may include: being fucking crazy

Here Wei Wuxian brings out his "resentful energy is awesome" theory and has an experienced grown-up grand master tell him that she also thought this, and has spent 100 years locked in a cave with headband-wearing rabbits because she was super fucking wrong. Does this deter him? ...nope

Baoshan Sanren

Now she name checks Baoshan Sanren, and Wei Wuxian has a big reaction and Lan Wangji has a big noticing of Wei Wuxian’s reaction. He’s very attuned to Wei Wuxian’s emotional state, in the moments where WWX lets his actual feelings show through the sass and swagger.  

Lan Gran talks about her search for the Yin iron, and Lan Wangji wisely says, if you can't neutralize it, why look for it? And she says, I was filled with hubris just like ya boi Wei Wuxian.  Lan Wangji points out the exact same shit he will later point out to Wei Wuxian.

So now we have a parallel in which Lan Yi is just like Wei Wuxian and Baoshan Sanren is just like Lan Wangji, yeah? Which is kind of sweet; it shows how these types are drawn together and how your clan doesn't determine your personality. Also it shows how the Lan clan has room for an unorthodox clan leader. Also it shows how the Yin Iron causes some really bad breakups. 

These boys are standing on snow barefoot which has got to take a pretty high cultivation level. Look how short Lan Wangji is without his stilettos, aww.

Flashback to Baoshan Sanren, just long enough to appreciate how beautiful she is.

Did OP give up on recoloring that flashback-blue-hazed image and just start fucking around with random filters? Yes she did. 

We also get to see that Lan Yi and Lan Wangji have more common than just guqin, because they both like to solve problems by kicking them.  

So after breaking up with her girlfriend, Lan Gran became invisible in this cave for 100 years while trying to contain the Yin iron and put headbands on rabbits. 

Soundtrack: Vogue by Madonna Writing prompt: Watership Down rabbits meet Lan rabbits

Bonus extended bath clip:

Bai Yu, Detective L

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #wangxian #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #the untamed stills #chen qing ling #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #cdrama #tw:cussing #more cussing than usual #that is #this is so long I can no longer edit it to fix my typos #even in html editor it won't save #good lord #must have fewer thoughts from now on #if you make it to the end there's a bonus bath gif

[lostfieldranboo]

ranboo doesn't know why he keeps finding himself back in the room.

no obsidian. not this time. not this room. just vines that snaked across every surface they could find, a monstrous egg in a far corner, and a voice that came and went. (it was all strangely familiar, actually. red instead of purple, egg instead of a chest, the egg's distorted whisper instead of dream's calm voice.)

(and they both said the same things too.)

he keeps coming back. once a week at minimum, he finds himself passing through the spider spawner, heading down the small tunnel, feeling the air getting more and more choking as he goes, stepping over vines and leaves and the occasional angry patch of *magma* spilling from the plants.

he doesn't know why he does it. but then again, he didn't know why he kept going back to the panic room.

back again, i see it whispers in the back of his mind, and he'll never get used to that feeling, literally never. the voice of the egg isn't audible. it's not even comprehensible. its hissing fills his mind and then suddenly he simply understands what it means.

ranboo swallows, trying to ignore how suddenly his mouth was feeling dry. probably something in the air in this place. (why was he here?) "yeah. yeah i am."

here to talk?

"here to do what i wanted to do last time." and the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that. he always had the tnt with him, he never worked up the will to even get it into his hands, let alone place it.

are you, now? it makes a noise that feels almost like laughter, but twisted, completely inhuman. what will the rest of them think of you then?

"this is the same thing you try every time i'm here," ranboo says, swallowing the sinking feeling its words cause. (every time. every. single. time.) "but i told you, i'm going to be the one to do it. i'm going to blow you up."

it laughs, and it laughs, and it keeps laughing-

before ranboo even really knows what he's doing, there's a block of tnt on the ground, right where the egg meets the floor.

he blinks. there's a flint and steel in his hands.

he blinks. sparks are falling.

he blinks. the fuse is burning.

he blinks.

move. now.

the blast goes off.

ranboo lowers the arm that was shielding his face.

instead of the destruction he'd expected to be greeted with, there's a sheet of solid crying obsidian replacing the red of the egg and its surroundings.

as he watches, it slowly fades back into that familiar crimson, piece by piece.

did you really think it would be that easy? i am far more powerful than you seem to know, the egg hisses.

was it harder to breathe in there than normal?

he gets the sense that it's smiling.

none of them trust you, do they? i could fix that. oh, and now it was back to offering, wasn't it. (ranboo didn't like to acknowledge how much he wanted to listen to them sometimes.)

you want to remember. you want to understand yourself. i could help with that.

he glances down at the memory book in his hand. (when had that gotten there?)

you're alone, aren't you? no. he has techno and phil and-

but do they care about him? they were already a pair before they had him, ranboo's just the awkward third wheel. his house isn't even connected to theirs.

i can fix that. i can give you a place where everyone cares about you.

...he wants that, doesn't he?

all you have to do is join me.

"no," he says, voice far firmer than he feels. "i said i would never."

the egg smiles.

too late.

ranboo looks down at the vines. the same ones that had been obsidian minutes before. the same ones that were now snaking around his boots, anchoring his feet to the floor, spiraling up onto his legs.

he looks around frantically. nobody. no escape. nothing but red red crimson red

nothing but black, fading in from the edges of his vision.

the vines are only up to his knees.

there’s nothing but the egg's laughter.

when ranboo next wakes up, he doesn't notice the differences immediately.

he remembers getting welcomed into a group. he remembers bad guiding out of the egg's room, but not what he talked about.

he remembers looking into the water outside the room's exit and seeing himself.

half black, half white. one red eye, one white eye.

just like normal.

right?

#dream smp #mcyt #ranboo #eggpire #i feel like i should have a fanfic tag #wrote this while listening to cabinet man on repeat please enjoy