#it takes way more time and effort to defend yourself than to point fault

[isekyaaa]

Someone asked me if I take constructive criticism on one of my posts, so I told them I do if they reblog my post and say within the it the reasons why I am wrong. It's been about two days and they haven't replied yet. :/

[stevie-petey]

episode seven: the bathtub

Steve sighs, “I just… I wanna help.” Maybe it’s his black eye or the pathetic way Steve says he wants to help, but the man comes down the ladder and hands him the dirty rag he had been using. “All yours.” Steve takes his jacket off and accepts the rag and climbs up, ready to get to work. He really does want to help, he has been trying to help. And Steve just really hopes that you can see his efforts someday, maybe even soon. He’s had a really rough week.

Summary: your brother basically places himself on the fbi's most wanted list and el flips a van with her mind, now you have to create a giant salt tub because of course you do, nancy tries Talking About It but hasn't she read the title ? you don't have the time. sidenote: you've somehow become a steve defender during these trying times. typical. meanwhile: steve's inner thoughts are pathetic.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/b, implications of death and violence

Words: 10.2k

Before you swing in: hello ! long time no see, i apologize :/ working while im home for winter break and my hours suck, but we move on ! heres chapter 7, she was a pain to write because it was more complex than i thought, but i love her dearly </3 enjoy !

-

When you finally get to the police station, exhausted and sweaty from running, an angry blond woman is following after Hopper as he guides Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan towards his cruiser.

“Aren’t you going to do anything about that toothless kid and his weird friends?” She screams at the officer, but he just ignores her and instructs the others to get into the car.

A toothless kid and his weird friends? Gee, you wonder who the woman could be talking about.

You get to the car right as Hopper has started the engine. You knock on the window and he sighs when he sees it’s you. He rolls down the window. “Why is it always you?”

“I think it’s time you learn that wherever he goes,” you point towards Jonathan, who smiles at the chief, and then you point at yourself. “I go.”

“She’s right.” Joyce mumbles from the passenger seat.

Hopper places his head in his hands and sighs once more. “We don’t have time for this. Step away from the car. Now.”

You blink. “I’m sorry?”

“Leave, go home.”

Jonathan speaks up from the backseat. “Hopper, she has to come with us–”

“Where the hell are you guys going? Weren’t you arrested?” You ask, now even more confused.

“Not arrested, just detained.” Joyce corrects.

The officer groans. “Does any of this matter? We need to leave, now.”

“We can leave as soon as you let me in the car.”

Hopper stares at you. “You have no idea what you’re walking into, kid.”

“Try me.”

“Step away from the car–”

“The ‘toothless kid’ that the crazy woman shouted about is my brother!” You shout, entirely over this entire conversation. Like hell this bitter old man is going to stop you from following wherever Jonathan goes. Especially if Dustin is involved somehow.

“I told you, no-”

“I can and will hop on the hood of this damn car if you don’t let me in within the next five seconds.”

Hopper laughs. “Sure ya will.”

“One,” you begin counting.

“That’s not going to work.”

“Two,”

“Uh, Hopper?” Jonathan speaks up. “She’ll do it, you know.”

“Three,”

Hopper doesn’t listen, and now Joyce is getting annoyed. “Hop, just let her in.”

“I kind of want to see her jump on the hood.” Nancy says, causing Jonathan to laugh.

“Four,” you walk to the front of the car and pop your foot up, getting ready to start climbing. If Hopper thinks you aren’t being serious, then that’s his own damn fault. He starts shouting at you to knock it off while Joyce pleads with him to listen to you. Jonathan tries to get out of the car, but Hopper has locked them in. Everyone is arguing and yelling and you’re just ready to say fuck it and straddle a cop car.

Right before you can jump entirely onto the hood of the car, Nancy lurches from the back seat and screams through Hopper’s window, “Y/N, just tell the man about El!”

Everyone freezes; no one says a single word. Slowly, you lower your leg and walk over to the driver’s window once more while Hopper just stares at you. You can’t exactly read the look on his face, but if you had to guess, it’d be something like of course this kid knows about El.

“Who the hell is El?” He demands as soon as you’re back in front of the window.

“Buzzed hair, nose bleeds when she uses her powers, and hangs out with my brother and his friends. Ring any bells?” You ask, a slight smirk on your face because you know you’ve won. Bless Nancy’s quick thinking.

Hopper’s face drops and he lets out a tired sigh. “So, you know about the girl?”

You snort. “Yeah, I know about her. Better yet: I've met her, and I know something awful is about to happen. Let me into the goddamn car. Now.”

The two of you have a stare down for a couple seconds before he finally gives in and unlocks the door. “You’re the worst in the group.”

“Oh, just wait until you hang out with my brother. Now, let’s go for a drive, shall we?”

–

The slight amusement you felt earlier quickly dissipates as Hopper explains everything going on. He explains El, who is really named Jane, and how he had found her mom and learned that some guy named Brenner was conducting experiments on her while she was pregnant. Thus, he created El and her powers and ultimately kidnapped her, leaving her mother to believe that she was dead. Now El has escaped, causing Will’s disappearance, and unfortunately some other horrible consequences.

Said consequences include driving to Nancy’s house because this Brenner guy apparently really wants El back and has gone as far as faking a twelve year old’s dead fucking body. Now he’s currently tracking her and the boys down.

Who knew Hawkins could have anything as exciting as a shady lab and actual men in black coats?

“Y/N, I need you to tell me everything you know about this girl,” Hopper demands, glaring at you from the rearview mirror as you sit between Nancy and Jonathan.

You do as you’re told, but admittedly there’s not much to tell him. Sure, you know El and have spent some time with her now, but other than that you’re still a bit lost yourself. The details are fuzzy in your mind, a picture has almost formed, but not quite.

As you’re struggling to explain more about the Upside Down to a very frustrated Hopper and a concerned Joyce, a parade of Hawkins Power and Light vans fly past the car and turn onto Nancy’s block. Once again, everyone in the car goes quiet.

“Neighborhood power outage?” You ask, really hoping you’re right, but worry is now creeping in. God, you really need to just stop leaving the kids alone after this week. Dustin was just supposed to see Mike, apologize to Lucas, and have a nice conversation about how friendship is magical and all that bullshit.

It doesn’t look like they did that.

Hopper suddenly jerks the car into a different neighborhood and speeds down the block. The speed scares you and Jonathan grabs your hand, sensing your growing unease. Then, the car brakes and you’re thrown forward by the momentum. “Fuck!”

“Sorry, honey.” Joyce murmurs to you, but the view in front of you catches your attention.

Hopper has brought you guys to an overlook of Nancy’s neighborhood with a perfect view of her house being surrounded by a bunch of expensive cars and men in suits carrying items out from her basement. You see one man holding a stack of your comics with one of Dustin’s old hats on top.

You want to throw up.

Nancy reacts no better than you do and immediately bolts out the car, Hopper and Joyce not far behind her. The man whips out a pair of binoculars and scopes out the scene while Nancy just stands there, stunned. She begins to speak to him, demanding to go into her house, but he doesn’t let her.

You’re left alone with Jonathan in the car and you feel your own panic begin to settle in. Seeing all the cars, the fucking helicopters, after your baby brother… You really, really want to throw up.

You feel yourself begin to spiral. You think about how you’d left Will alone to bike home and how, because of you, he never made it back. Instead he got taken by a monster that’s big enough to kill a fucking deer. Will, small and sweet Will, is gone because of your inability to keep those you love safe.

And now Dustin and the boys are facing the same fate, all because of your stupidity. You left them alone, again, after they’ve spent the entire week sneaking off and getting into trouble. You have no reason to be surprised by their actions. You’re not an idiot, you should’ve known better.

You should’ve known better than to listen to Jonathan about not taking Will home. You should’ve known better about letting the boys explore those woods the night you found El. You should’ve reported the missing girl, called the cops, anything else rather than help hide her.

But because of your stupid, stupid, need to take care of everyone around you, to please everyone no matter what it may cost you, you’re in a cop car as your brother is being hounded down by what appears to be the goddamn FBI.

This is all your fault.

Hopper is saying something to Nancy now, there’s a commotion outside the car door and you know you should go out there and help, but you can’t. Jonathan, seeing the argument outside as well, turns to tell you that he’ll go and help, but stops when sees how pale you’ve gotten and that your leg is bouncing wildly.

He’s known you for years; he knows what you look like right before you have a complete breakdown.

He grabs you and you find yourself engulfed within his chest. His hands come up to your hair and he runs his fingers through it in a way that’s always calmed you down. You find yourself beginning to cry at the tenderness.

“I’m here, bug.” Jonathan whispers the words with his chin tucked atop of your head. He runs a hand up and down your back, drawing small patterns to try and distract you. You don’t fucking deserve the kindness.

You tighten your arms around him, afraid that he’ll slip away just like everything else has. “This is all my fault.”

“You’re crazy if you think that.”

“I was… I was in over my head.” A few tears slip out and you don’t bother to wipe them away. Instead, you bury your head deeper into Jonathan’s chest, ashamed. “This entire time, I should’ve–I needed to be better and I–I wasn’t, bee.”

Your words slur together as more tears come, but Jonathan is able to understand you regardless. He slides a hand up and under your chin, gently coaxing your head up so that he can look you in the eye. “None of this is your fault. You hear me?”

“But–”

“No. Without you, those boys would probably be dead by now. Nancy and I included. You’re the glue holding everything together, you know more than anyone else involved.”

Jonathan’s eyes burn yours, he’s so sure of his words but you know they aren’t true. You pull away from him and try to collect yourself. “There’s an entire swat team ready to hurt my baby brother… I fucked up, Jonathan.”

“Still up for debate, but if you really feel that way, then I’ll help you fix it. It’s as simple as that.” Jonathan shrugs, saying the words so simply, without any doubt or hesitation. He has such confidence in you, and you know he shares the same thought that you do: together, the two of you can do anything.

You think about your birthday gift from Will, with you and Jonathan battling a dragon together with the boys, and the thought brings you comfort. Together, you and the boys will get through this one way or another. You’re sure of that much, at least.

Plus, you have El and Nancy now.

You wipe away a few more tears and manage a smile, now feeling a bit better “Thank you, bee.”

He smiles back at you and ruffles your hair. “Any time, bug.”

The moment between you is broken by Hopper throwing Nancy into the backseat, cruelly bringing you back to reality. The boys, they’re in danger. Hopper turns to face the three of you with a crazed look in his eyes. “Look, we need to find them before they do.”

“The kids?” You stupidly ask.

“No, we’re looking for Santa’s reindeer.” Hopper deadpans, which you honestly had coming. “Yes, the kids. Do you have any idea where they might have gone?”

“No, I don’t!” Nancy still looks shaken up and you and Jonathan don’t look much better.

“I need you to think.” Hopper presses.

Nancy lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked a lot. I mean… lately.”

“What about you, Y/N?” Joyce asks, her voice a bit more gentle than Hopper���s.

You wrack your brain for where the kids may have gone, but with all your exhaustion and overwhelming feelings, you can’t come up with anything. Your brain is fried. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Byers.”

“Is there any place that your guys’ parents don’t know about that they might go?”

You and Nancy look at each other for ideas, but you both end up drawing a blank and shake your heads at Joyce. She sighs, but seems to be more understanding. You really wish you could be of more use, but besides Mike’s house, the kids don’t really go anywhere except…

“The junkyard!” You exclaim, throwing yourself forward in your excitement.

“What?” Hopper asks, his interest now is on you.

“The boys went there yesterday with El, they had a fight and–”

Hopper cuts you off. “I don’t need the petty details, just tell me where this junkyard is.”

“I… can’t.” You deflate now, realizing that you have no idea how to access this damn random field in Hawkins. It’s not really an official junkyard, just an area with leftover cars and trash piled up over the years. The boys have never taken you there, it had been the one spot they’d kept all to themselves.

“You can’t?” The man questions, his usual annoyance with you is present once again.

Before an inevitable argument breaks out, Jonathan speaks up. “I don’t know what Y/N is talking about, but I think I know how to ask the kids.”

–

When you get to Jonathan’s to look for Will’s walkie, you’re a bit car sick from Hopper’s damn speeding. You get that this is an urgent matter, but holy shit you feel ill.

You, Jonathan, Joyce, and Nancy hop out the car and start heading towards Will’s room. Jonathan and Joyce guide the way and you’re right behind them until you see Nancy stop in the living room.

“Woah,” she breathes out, examining the room around her. You forget that she’s only been a part of your life for a few days now and hasn’t yet seen the state of chaos that is Jonathan’s house.

“Yeah, welcome to the Byers home.” You say, grabbing her hand to tug her along.

When you get to Will’s room, Jonathan is digging through his drawers while Joyce is on the floor searching underneath his bed. You immediately walk over to the closet and begin sifting through his numerous boxes of comics and drawings.

“I got it!” Joyce announces from under the bed and scrambles into the living room with the walkie in her hand.

You follow after her and sit next to her on the couch. Jonathan stands next to you while Nancy is on your right and Hopper is by the door. Joyce fiddles with the walkie. “Okay, now what?”

“I’ll talk to them.” Nancy says, but you shake your head at her.

“No offense, but I think they’ll respond to me better. I mean, they like me.” Hopper snorts across the room and you close your eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Nancy bites her lip but eventually nods, thankfully understanding what you meant. “Yeah, okay. You should go first, then. They’ve always listened to you more than me.”

Joyce hands you the walkie and you thank her. You look at Hopper and hold the walkie up. “Anything I should specifically say?”

“No, just find out where they are and we’ll go from there.” He commands.

You nod and take a deep breath, silently praying that the idiots will respond both for your own sanity and pride. Exhaling, you bring the walkie to your lips. “Dustin, it’s Y/N. Do you copy?”

Silence, no one responds on the other end and you feel everyone’s eyes on you. “They’re paranoid right now, okay?”

Joyce reassures you that it’s fine while Hopper groans, unimpressed. You silently curse Dustin, who would choose right now to embarrass you and not listen.

You take another deep breath and try again. “Hello? Earth to Dustin and co? Guys, it’s me and I really need you to respond. Immediately. I will start crying if I need to.”

Again, more silence follows. You want to scream and throw the walkie across the damn room, but you keep your composure and try one last time and square your shoulders. You’re aware of Jonathan and the others in the room with you, so you’re dreading having to say this, but you know it’s the only way to get them to respond. ”Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and possibly El: what you’re about to hear is private and so incredibly embarrassing but obviously I have to prove that I’m me so you idiots respond.”

Jonathan’s eyes widen. “You’re not really going to confess to–”

You shush him and keep talking. “Dustin, remember when mom told you that Mews peed on my bed and that’s why I had to stay in your room for the night last year? Well, surprise! It was me. I peed the bed because I had a nightmare after you made me watch Friday the 13th.”

Nancy makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh covered up by a cough and Joyce herself stifles a laugh. Hopper doesn’t even try to hide his laugh and you just really wish the ground would swallow you up. All Jonathan can do is offer you a pitying smile. This is fucking mortifying.

And yet: no one answers.

You let out a frustrated groan. “Listen to me! Either you answer or I have a very annoyed and rude Hopper who would be more than glad to interrogate you boys himself. This is your last chance–”

“Ya know, you really should’ve just used Hopper as a threat from the start. We would’ve listened.” Mike’s voice comes through the walkie, causing you to sigh out with relief.

“Yeah, now we know you peed your pants at fifteen.” Lucas adds.

Then Dustin’s voice carries through. “I’m ashamed to be related to you, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Dustin. You’ve always had my back.”

Hopper takes the walkie from you and heads towards his car while demanding directions from Mike. He leaves without saying another word to everyone else, simply leaving you with Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan to wait for his return with the kids.

You wring your hands together, unsure what to do in this situation. So, you do what’s familiar to you; you take care of those around you. “Mrs. Byers, do you still have my baking supplies here?”

–

Steve was having a rough week.

It started with finding you crying in the middle of the road while you were on your bike. At first, he hadn’t been sure it was you, but as you had biked closer and almost hit him, he knew then that you were indeed Y/N Henderson. When you swerved into a ditch to avoid hitting him, Steve did what any rational person would do.

He helped you.

You had been hesitant of him at first, nervous and guarded and Steve couldn’t blame you. Up until then, the two of you hadn’t had the best interactions. He’d always seen you around in the hallways at school, knew about your obsession with comics and Spider-Man, and he knew how kind you could be and had witnessed first hand how devoted you were to helping anyone you could, regardless of who they were.

When Steve was in eighth grade and you were in seventh, Carol had bled through her pants and Tommy had been laughing at her and calling her disgusting. Steve hadn’t been much better, honestly, the two of them had reacted how any other idiotic thirteen year olds would. When Carol started to cry, Steve finally felt bad and told Tommy to knock it off and help his girlfriend. It started a whole argument between the two of them, but as they were bickering you swooped in and offered to escort Carol to the bathroom.

He had watched as you delicately took the girl’s hand and said something soft and kind to her as you guys walked to the bathroom. A lanky boy, who had been with you, told you he’d wait by your bike while you were with Carol. You thanked him and then you were gone, the door to the girl’s bathroom closing behind you.

“Who was she?” Steve remembers asking Tommy. He’d been curious about you and your actions, because not even ten minutes before Carol had bled through her pants, she had been making fun of your scuffed sneakers in the lunchroom. She’d been especially viscous back then, and yet you hadn’t hesitated to help her.

“Y/N Henderson. She’s new, moved here a few weeks ago.”

Steve had kept watching the bathroom door, hoping to catch another glimpse of you. “And the boy?”

“Jonathan Byers.” Tommy snickered. “Poor family, complete nobodies. Guess Henderson likes a pity project.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” The door still hadn’t opened, so Steve sighed and motioned to Tommy to follow him. “C’mon, my mom hates waiting for us.”

So, yeah. Your very first interaction with Steve had been you watching him make fun of a poor girl experiencing her first ever period.

Not a very good first impression.

Ever since then, Steve had kept an eye on you. Maybe not consciously, but you’d always been in his peripheral. He’d seen all the times you helped someone, from teachers to the local stoner kid, Eddie Munson, who needed a pen for his exam so you’d given him your only one and ultimately couldn’t take your own exam. Steve had always wanted to ask if you regretted that, but he was sure you’d say no. It’s just what you did.

He watched as you and Byers grew closer, almost inseparable, and Steve decided that eventually the two of you would get together and live happily ever after. When your hair grew a bit longer and your scuffed sneakers turned into pretty mary janes, Steve figured it’d happen in no time.

Then Will disappeared and Steve had found you crying in a ditch after almost hitting his car with your bike, and everything seemed to change. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but he knew he wanted to make you smile. He’d never been alone with you before and he felt bad about Will; he knew how close you were with him, so he cracked a few jokes, pretended not to know who you were, and then you smiled at him for the very first time.

A real, true, beautiful smile that had left Steve breathless for a moment.

God, then you laughed and Steve swore he’d never heard something more genuine and pure. He had felt like a little kid on Christmas day, giddy over the fact that he had made you laugh at his stupid joke.

Immediately Steve was addicted. He vowed then and there to do whatever he could to help you, to get you to laugh and smile and flash him that annoyed look that seemed to make your eyes reflect everything good and lovely.

So he did.

Steve had helped you out of the ditch and watched as you biked away, lingering until he was sure you’d be safe. He had invited you to his house for a party, figuring that maybe you’d enjoy a distraction from life. Sure, you had rebuffed him pretty harshly, but he had deserved it. He had been an ass to Byers.

But then Byers had taken pictures of his naked girlfriend and Steve’s world had felt like it’d been flipped upside down. How dare he? Byers was yours, everyone knew that. Hell, the entirety of Hawkins knew that. Why the fuck would he need to take pictures of Nancy, his Nancy, when he already had you? Not only was it creepy and invasive, but it was a major offense to someone as selfless as you.

Logically, Steve had to retaliate, it just wasn’t okay. He had told Tommy the plan and then before he knew it he ended up waiting by Byers’ car to confront him, and then alongside him had been you. Of course you’d been with him. Steve should’ve expected that.

He hadn’t wanted for you to get dragged into it so aggressively, but he also had to tell you the truth. Steve knew there was no way in hell that Byers had told you about the photos, so he had to be the one to break the news before anyone else could. It had killed him to see you so upset.

When Tommy threw you onto the ground, all Steve felt was rage. You weren’t supposed to be the one getting hurt, and yet somehow you were. It enraged him that he couldn’t do more to help, but before he knew it you were on the ground and he had rushed over to help.

He doesn’t remember much else that had happened next, but when your back pressed against his chest to avoid Byers, Steve had felt his heart flutter a bit. Again, he had felt like a little kid on Christmas day, giddy and excited and warm. You had needed him at that moment, so Steve helped.

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.” He had placed his hand on your shoulder, a risky move he had been afraid would scare you away, but you stayed; you had been warm underneath his touch.

Steve hadn’t meant to break the camera, honest. It just kind of happened, his brain had been muddled by your presence. He felt bad about it, but Tommy had whooped all impressed and Carol had encouraged him on, so he had to pretend that it hadn’t bothered him.

But it had.

It had really, really bothered Steve.

He just wanted to help, to defend you, and yet he had gone too far. And he had felt awful about it.

So, when he had spotted you once again biking on the road, struggling up a massive hill the next day, Steve had figured that this was his chance to make it up to you. He thought that if he had offered you a ride, the two of you could talk. When you accepted, Steve had happily thrown your bike in the back and felt so fucking relieved. There was still a chance.

Then the two of you engaged in the banter that made Steve feel so alive and he knew that it’d all be okay, it had to be. He had teased you, gotten you to blush and laugh once more, and Steve felt like he was on top of the world being able to offer you some type of relief from the news of Will’s death. He had helped you, if even for a little while.

Somehow he had ended up confessing to you that he had been trying to make you laugh a few days prior, having pretended not to know your name. “Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And voila, I did.”

He’ll always remember the shocked expression on your face, the way your eyes softened for a moment with vulnerability and Steve had found himself wanting to lean in closer to see if he could make you blush an even prettier red. He had refrained, though (barely).

But his good mood vanished when you had berated him about breaking Byers’ camera, which he had to admit was a selfish move on his end. He had already felt bad about it, but to hear you remind him that Byers didn’t have the money that Steve did, it hurt in a way he hadn’t been familiar with.

And yet, like you always seem to do to Steve, you had completely turned his mood around with only a few words.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Your words had hit Steve harder than he would've ever thought possible. No one had ever told him that, not even his mother who always insisted on calling him her beautiful boy. Everyone always called Steve various names such as King Steve, the King, Steve “the hair” Harrington, and every possible way to complement his appearance, but no one had ever told him he was a good person.

You had called him “alright”, and those words had been on his mind for the rest of the day, creating a new warmth in his chest every time he thought them. You, Y/N Henderson, had thought Steve was “alright.”

It felt like he had won the goddamn lottery.

Until Nancy started acting weird and ditching plans with him for some mysterious “project”, which sucked. He hadn’t been sure what he did, but he was sure he’d done something to offend the girl. He always managed to do something to hurt those closest to him.

Imagine his surprise when he had driven to Nancy’s and spotted you, glowing in the moonlight and lovely as ever, looking for the girl as well. Pretty fucking convenient, huh? Something was up, Steve could feel it.

And boy, was he right.

There Byers had been, his arm draped over his girlfriend, sitting side by side in her bed without a singular care for the people they were hurting in the process. Typical.

Again Steve had felt that anger deep within him, the same anger from when he saw those pictures of Nancy, because how dare Byers? There you had been, standing underneath Steve, worried about Nancy because you’re the best damn person he’s ever met, and yet Byers had been abusing your kindness and trust for his own gain.

No.

Steve was livid.

“You deserve better, Y/N.” He regrets yelling at you and pushing you away, but Steve had been so overwhelmed with his anger. You deserved everything and more, why couldn’t anyone else see that? Why was Steve the only one who could see this?

Hell, anyone could hurt Steve. He wouldn’t care, he always deserved it in the end. He wasn’t nice or good or worth kindness, but you? Hurting someone like you, someone as selfless and wonderful and genuine, was goddamn unacceptable.

Steve did the only thing he knew: he had to hurt Byers and Nancy for hurting you.

So he did.

And fuck, Steve really wished that he hadn’t, because now he’s standing underneath the Hawk’s sign with a black eye and a bleeding lip and really wishing that you were here to remind him that he’s a good person.

He also really hopes that you still believe this.

Steve had only been trying to help you, to get you to see your own worth and recognize how much of an ass Byers and Nancy were to you. But you had run away, back to that asshole, and Steve had been left to clean up his own mess.

“Need a hand?” Steve calls up to Byers’ boss, who is on a ladder trying to scrub off the cruel spray painted taunts of Nancy.

The man looks down at Steve, his face twisting into a sneer. “Did you have something to do with this?”

Steve sighs, “I just… I wanna help.”

Maybe it’s his black eye or the pathetic way Steve says he wants to help, but the man comes down the ladder and hands him the dirty rag he had been using. “All yours.”

Steve takes his jacket off and accepts the rag and climbs up, ready to get to work. He really does want to help, he has been trying to help.

And Steve just really hopes that you can see his efforts someday, maybe even soon.

He’s had a really rough week.

–

The cookies only take you thirty minutes to make, which is way before Hopper is expected to be back with the kids, so you awkwardly hand out a plate of them to Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy before sitting in between the teens and pulling out a comic.

Nancy hesitantly takes a bite, but her uncertainty melts into bliss. “Oh my god, these are delicious.”

“Y/N makes the best oatmeal raisin cookies, they’re insane.” Jonathan says with a mouthful of his own cookies.

“Thanks,” you say, flicking through the pages of your comic and trying to remember where you last left off. You keep an assortment of comics between Jonathan’s house and Nancy’s basement just in case you’re ever left with a need for one. Thankfully you’ve always planned ahead, because this latest issue of Spidey keeps you distracted as you wait for Hopper and the kids.

You’re doing your best to keep your anxiety at bay, but it’s hard. Baking has always calmed you, though tonight you’re still left feeling jittery. You’ve never been a patient person.

No one speaks as you wait, the clock on the Byers’ wall ticks away at a maddeningly slow pace. You try to focus on your comic, but it’s useless. Eventually you give up and flop your head onto Jonathan’s shoulder, frustrated and anxious.

The second you hear Hopper’s car pull into the driveway you sprint off the couch and run straight towards Dustin. He’s in your arms before he’s even had a chance to fully get out of the car. “Geesh, Y/N!”

You ignore his complaining and hold onto him tightly. He’s alive and safe and whole. Thank god.

Nancy does the same with Mike. “I was so worried about you!”

“Yeah, uh… me too?” Her brother mumbles back.

You snort at him and reluctantly pull away from Dustin to only then pull Lucas into a hug, which he hadn’t been expecting. You squeeze the other boy tight. “Where the hell did you guys run off to this time?”

Before they can explain, you see Nancy eyeing El and you immediately rush over to the girl and engulf her into a hug as well. You haven’t seen her in ages, you’ve missed her and she looks a mess. “El! God, look at you!”

“Is that my dress?” Nancy asks.

You inspect El’s dress and realize that yes, it is indeed an old dress of Nancy’s. You raise an eyebrow at the boys, silently asking for an explanation.

Dustin smiles and gives you a thumbs up. “Who’s ready for an update?”

–

All you’ve managed to learn tonight is that Will is the only one in the group with any artistic abilities.

Mike has drawn a horrible recreation of what Mr. Clark had explained to them at the funeral a few days ago, the whole tale about the flea and the acrobat. While the boy is explaining the situation to everyone else, all you do is wonder how the hell he couldn’t even draw a straight line.

“Okay, so in this example, we're the acrobat. Will and Barbara, and that monster, they’re this flea.” Mike points to below the line he’s so poorly drawn. “And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding.”

You’re sitting in between Jonathan and Joyce on the couch and notice their confused faces, causing you to sigh. “Oh, just wait.”

Mike glares at you but continues with his explanation. “Mr. Clark said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space.”

“A gate.” Dustin adds.

“That we tracked to Hawkins Lab.” Lucas then finishes.

“Don’t forget the compasses.” You mumble, trying your best not to butt in too much. You’re not really sure how much you should disclose about the fact that you’ve been in on the boy’s adventure without informing the literal cop who is in the room.

Hopper, who is seated across from you, narrows his eyes at you.

Yeah. Best not to push it.

“Right, the compasses.” Dustin leans in closer to everyone to make sure they understand what he’s about to say. “The gate has a really strong electromagnetic field, and that can change the directions of a compass needle.”

“Is this gate underground?” Hopper now speaks up, though his eyes are still on you. El softly responds with a “yes” and the man doesn’t look too happy.

“Near a large water tank?”

“Yes,” El says softly again.

“You’ve been there.” You conclude, now holding onto Hopper’s gaze. Seems like you weren’t the only person keeping secrets, then.

Hopper doesn’t break eye contact. “Yes, I have. And you’ve been playing double agent.”

You shrug. “Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

“You should’ve told the police, kid.”

“Like you would’ve believed me.”

“You let these kids run off on their own, does it really matter what I would’ve believed if I had known they’d be in danger?”

You can feel your anger beginning to resurface. You’ll never admit it to anyone, but Hopper manages to bring out an anger within you that only your father could do before. Facing him, you feel like a ten year old again screaming against her father. “I did what I could! I’d never intentionally bring them harm. Don’t ever imply otherwise again.”

“Y/N, Hopper, now isn’t the time.” Joyce interrupts, her face ashen. You feel your anger drain from you as it’s replaced with guilt. She’s right, now isn’t the time for petty arguments with a cop who has a weird vendetta against you.

Joyce then turns to El, her voice shaky and you grab her hand as she speaks. “Is there any way that you could… that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this–”

“The Upside Down.” El finishes for her and then gives her own response as a nod.

You notice Nancy nervously picking at her fingers, so you ask El your own question. “What about Barb? Do you think you can find her, honey?”

Nancy gives you a smile and mouths “thank you”; you nod your head at her, understanding.

Again, El nods and you let out a breath of relief. For the first time in days, it feels like you finally have a solid and functional plan. Things are finally starting to all come together and now it isn’t just you who has to glue the pieces down. You have help.

After the conversation you help set up everything El needs to contact Barb and Will. You help Nancy tear a picture of Barb and lay it on the table alongside a picture of Will. Mike has switched his walkie into static and the white noise seems to help the girl focus.

All of you crowd around El at the table, not saying a word. Joyce is seated while you and Jonathan stand behind her, each of you have a hand on her shoulder and she holds onto you both like her life depends on it.

You find yourself holding your breath as El closes her eyes and begins her process of contacting Will. You’re terrified that maybe this time she won’t find him, or worse… She’ll find him, but he’ll be long gone already. You’ve already come so fucking close, you’re worried that your luck will run out soon.

Static fills the air and the lights start to flicker. El opens her eyes; her face falls with despair and you immediately know that something has gone wrong before she even whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Joyce’s hand tightens around yours. “What? W–What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

El begins to cry and her voice breaks. “I can’t find them.

“Shh, it’s okay, honey.” You’re at the girl’s side in a heartbeat, crouched down so that you can look her in the eye as you try to soothe her. “Hey, look at me. You tried your best, it’s okay. I’m right here, my dear.”

While you comfort El, Jonathan comforts his mother. The two of you share a quick glance and through it you’re both able to convey the same message: I’ve got her, take care of the other. Without any other word, you gently guide El to the bathroom and tell her to take some time to herself and that you’ll be there for her when she’s ready.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, tears still in her eyes.

“Of course. Take all the time you need. None of this is your fault, okay? I need you to understand that.”

El nods before she closes the door, but you know she doesn’t believe you. You guess this is how Jonathan had felt earlier in the car when you confessed that everything was your fault and he’d tried reassuring you that it wasn’t. It isn’t easy convincing someone that they haven’t done anything wrong, not when they truly believe that they have.

You hear the faucet running in the bathroom, so you walk over towards the living room to check in on the others. Mike is explaining El’s powers when you catch the tail end of their conversation.

“Like, she flipped a van earlier.”

“El flipped a van?” You ask, staring at the boys in shock.

They all smile at you and Dustin eagerly shakes his head. “Yeah, it was awesome.”

“I left you alone for five hours, Dustin.”

“That was your first mistake.”

Now Mike butts in. “I also jumped off a cliff and El caught me midair with her powers.”

Your jaw drops. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Shut up, Mike.” Lucas nudges him with his shoulder. “What we’re saying is, she’s drained.”

“Like a dead battery.” Dustin confirms.

Joyce looks around helplessly. You know she’s doing everything she can to follow along. “Well… how do we make her better?”

“We don’t.” You say, having known El long enough to notice the limitations to her powers. As far as you’re aware, the only way for her to regenerate her strength is through rest. But who knows, maybe during those five hours you left the kids alone they somehow found a magical crystal that heals El.

Mike nods at you. “Y/N’s right, we don’t. We just have to wait and try again.”

“Well, how long?” Nancy is seated next to Joyce and she looks just as overwhelmed as the woman. Had you not had some time before this with El and the kids, you’d be equally as confused as them.

“I don’t know.” Her brother responds, head ducked in shame.

Suddenly El appears. “The bath.”

You run back over to her side and crouch down once more. “Hey, I told you to tell me when you were ready to come out. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” she smiles at you, and though she looks exhausted, you know it’s a genuine smile. “I can find them. In the bath.”

“The bath?” You ask, and later you’ll regret doing this.

–

Dustin is the one who thinks of calling Mr. Clark, though you’re a bit skeptical of the idea.

“It’s late, what if he’s busy?”

Your brother laughs at the idea. “Sure, Mr. Clark will be busy and you’ll have a hot date waiting for you tonight.”

“Dude, harsh.”

He waves you off and dials the teacher’s number and you’re choosing to ignore the fact that it’s inappropriate for Dustin to even have the man’s number. You stand next to him as he takes the call, ready to intervene if needed.

“Mr. Clark? It’s Dustin… Yeah, yeah, I just… I–I have a science question.”

You drop your face into your hands and sigh with disappointment. Smooth, real smooth, Dustin.

“Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks?” Dustin’s eyes widen and he quickly looks over at you, covering the phone so that he can frantically whisper, “he asked why!”

“Why are you looking at me?” You whisper back, equally at a loss for what to tell the man.

“You’re no help!” Your brother whispers back, rolling his eyes at you before returning to the phone. “Sorry, technical difficulties. Anyways, we need to know for… fun.”

Again you facepalm and Jonathan, who is standing behind you, rubs your shoulders to relieve some of your stress. You relax against him and remind yourself to calm down. Dustin can handle this, he’s always been better at this stuff than you have; he was practically made for this life of lying and mischief. You were made for cookies and comics.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line and you can faintly hear Mr. Clark ask to talk about the topic later, preferably after a school day, but Dustin insists. “You always say we should never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door we find… Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”

The demanding tone causes you to stifle a laugh and you feel Jonathan doing the same. Yeah. Dustin was made for this.

Mr. Clark and your brother discuss the details of the tank for a while so you wander over towards the table and sit down. You hand Dustin a piece of paper and a pencil so that he can write down important information and flick through a comic as you wait.

As soon as he hangs up, Dustin throws the phone down and turns towards Joyce. “Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in?”

“A kiddie pool?” You ask at the same time Joyce responds, “Yeah, I think so?”

“Good. Then we just need salt. Lots of it.”

“I’m sorry, salt?”

You’re ignored once again as Hopper asks how much salt is needed. Dustin looks down at his notes and bites his lip. “1,500 pounds.”

“What the fuck…” You mutter under your breath, completely exasperated by the entire situation. A kiddie pool and 1,500 fucking pounds of salt? No. This is where you draw the line. You can handle monsters and alternate dimensions, but a kiddie pool full of salt to create a sensory deprivation tank is just too much. It’s your breaking point. “My life isn’t real.”

–

Somehow, amidst the diverging of groups to tackle everything needed to make El’s tank, you end up with Nancy in the shed at Hawkins Middle. You’re really not sure how it happened but one minute you were with Jonathan and Joyce, the next you’re in a shed with the girl you have very conflicted feelings over.

Mike is standing outside the door while you and Nancy struggle to grab the hoses from the shelf. The things are surprisingly heavy so it takes the two of you to get them down. You grunt as you throw a third one down into a barrel. “God, what do these things eat?”

Nancy chuckles. “No clue, but I’m sure Jonathan and Hopper are having a better time with all those salt bags.”

“Touché.” Then both of you are quiet again as you continue working.

“So… what’s up with you and Jonathan?” Nancy suddenly asks, which causes you to drop the hose you’d been holding.

“Shit!” You bend down to pick it back up, though you also do it to try and compose yourself because what the fuck. “And nothing. There’s nothing going on between us.”

Nancy frowns. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m intruding or anything.”

“Intruding?”

“I mean… shit, I don’t know how to word this.” She fumbles with her own hose. “I just– I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about.”

You know she means well, but Nancy’s words only upset you for a multitude of reasons. “Nancy, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but why does it matter?”

“Why does what matter?”

“How I feel about Jonathan. I mean, you’re with Steve. He’s your boyfriend, there shouldn’t be any reason for me to worry about you and my best friend.”

Nancy looks down at the ground. “You’re right, but it’s not like that. Nothing happened between Jonathan and I last night. I promise, I know he’s yours and–”

“You know, I’m really fucking sick of everyone trying to tell me what Jonathan and I are.” You spit out.

Nancy flinches. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just focus on the task at hand, okay?” The girl nods and places the last hose into the barrel, but there’s something that’s been on the back of your mind for a while. “Look, I know you mean well and I’m sorry for being so mean, but… Cheating is something I can’t get behind.”

“I’d never cheat–”

“I know, but a word of advice? Figure out your own feelings before you hurt those closest to you.” Nancy’s frown deepens and you sigh. “Don’t tell him I said this, but even though Steve can be an asshole, he’s still a good guy. He’s already really hurt over seeing you with Jonathan. I just… I don’t want to see him get hurt again, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot for him.” Nancy says, a hint of something else within her voice.

“Believe me, I don’t, but it sucks knowing that the person you love may love someone else.”

“Woah, I don’t think he loves me–”

“Maybe not yet, but he’s starting to. So again, I urge you to figure out what you want before more people get hurt. Jonathan included. He’s my best friend, Nancy.” You take a deep breath and will yourself to be vulnerable. “Regardless of whatever I may feel for him, he deserves to be happy. You need to figure out your feelings before you’re in too deep. Okay? He’s been through enough to last a lifetime and he’s the best damn guy in this hellhole of a town.”

Nancy swallows and for a moment you think she’s going to refute you, but instead she straightens her posture and gives you a curt nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You finish up in the shed in silence. Once you’re done you wheel the barrel out and motion for Mike to follow. “Here, can you take this? I’m going to go check on Dustin.”

Mike makes a face. “I mean, I guess, but–”

You quickly hand the kid the barrel and run back inside the school. You’re a shaking mess from your conversation with Nancy and you need to get away from her as quickly as possible. The conversation replays over and over in your head and each time it’s like a punch. Were you too harsh? Have you revealed too much to her?

Whatever, you don’t have time to dwell on it.

You run back into the school and slam the door behind you.

–

It takes a while to set everything up within the gym. You help Mike hold the hoses as Jonathan and Nancy turn the water on. Lucas holds a thermometer and monitors the water’s temperature and when it’s time, you use your new switchblade to tear open the bags of salt alongside Jonathan and Hopper. Every five bags or so, Dustin drops an egg into the pool to check the buoyancy.

It’s a team effort, but eventually the eggs begin to float and you breathe out with relief. One task down, a million more to go.

Mike switches on the walkie and you help El put on her tapped goggles. Once everything is ready, you hold her hand as she carefully steps into the water. When she’s fully in, you step away and sit down between Jonathan and Nancy, a position you somehow always find yourself in.

As soon as El begins to float in the water, the lights start to flicker before completely shutting off. You feel the static that always seems to accompany her powers. No one moves, too scared to break El out of her concentration.

You wait for a few minutes, uneasy. You’ve never actually seen El’s power in action besides when she made your comic book fly up in the air, so you’re unsure what to do while you wait. Then, faintly, El mumbles, “Barbara.”

Nancy jolts to life and leans in closer to the girl. The lights flicker once more but this time you see El’s body tremble with fear.

“What’s going on?” Nancy asks you.

“I don’t know. I think… I think she’s scared.”

“Scared? I–” Nancy leans even closer to El now. “Is Barb okay? Is she okay?”

You pull Nancy back, not wanting to overwhelm El, but it’s too late. The poor girl trembles even more and repeatedly mumbles “gone” until her voice raises and she begins to cry out. Nancy starts to cry and you motion for Joyce to hold El while you handle Nancy.

Joyce reaches over to comfort the girl and you pull Nancy into your arms as she cries. “I’m so sorry, Nancy.”

She cries harder and you tighten your arms around her. All your anger towards the girl from your conversation from earlier has faded. Barb, Nancy’s dearest friend, is gone. You can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now. If you ever lost Jonathan… God, a piece of you would die.

Eventually Nancy manages to calm down and pulls away with a soft “thank you”, but you keep your hand around hers as you pay attention again. You know she’s embarrassed about her reaction, but you don’t blame her for a second. Later, after all of this, you’ll make sure to check up on her.

“Will?”

You hear Jonathan gasp next to you and he grasps at your free hand. You sit there in shock and feel your heart swell. Tears lump in your throat at the confirmation of Will being alive. Will, beautiful and sweet Will, is alive.

You squeeze Jonathan’s hand and the two of you look at each other. There’s tears in his eyes as well and you both let out a slight chuckle of disbelief. After this horrible week, everything that you’ve been through together to find Will, finding out that he’s alive by each other’s side only seems fitting.

“Tell him… Tell him I’m coming. Mom is coming.” Joyce instructs El, strength returning to her voice.

The walkie sparks to life with Will’s voice. “Hurry.”

You choke back a sob. “Little bee,”

Jonathan squeezes your hand again and you rest your head against his shoulder, completely sagging with relief. He’s here. He’s real and he’s alive and he’ll be in your arms once again soon.

“Okay, listen. You tell him to… To stay where he is.” Joyce is speaking with an urgency now as she hovers over El. “We’re coming. We’re coming, okay? We’re coming, honey.”

The sweet moment is ruined by the walkie’s intense static. El quickly sits up and tears her goggles off and begins to panic. She flings herself into Joyce’s embrace and you hurry over to console her as well. She’s just a little girl, she’s been through so much for someone so young.

You kiss her forehead the way Jonathan always does to you. “You did so well, El. I’m so, so proud of you. You’re incredible, okay? We’ve got you, you’re safe with us.”

Joyce echoes your words and the two of you hold tightly onto El as she cries. You look over at Nancy, who is staring off into space with her own despair in her eyes, and you feel such an intense wave of hurt hit you. You’re all so young. The kids are all huddled together in shock. None of this is fucking fair.

–

You opt to stay behind with the kids on the bleachers as Jonathan, Joyce, and Hopper discuss what to do next. Nancy has walked away, presumably to grieve, so you give her the same she desires.

El shivers, so you tighten the towel around her. Lucas rubs her arms to try and warm her up as well, something that brings a faint smile to your face. You guess the two of them sorted out their differences, then. Good. El needs more friends like Lucas in her life if she’s going to continue hanging around Dustin and Mike. They’re insensible, but Lucas isn’t so bad.

Dustin’s stomach rumbles and he lets out a sheepish laugh. “Sorry, ignore that.”

“Oh!” You gasp, suddenly remembering the cookies you packed in your bag. You had grabbed them before leaving Jonathan’s, figuring the kids hadn’t eaten all day. “Here, made these fresh today. You all get three, that’s it.”

The boys fight over who gets one first and you leave them to sort it out themselves. You roll your eyes at them; they’re such heathens. You focus your attention back to El, who remains pressed against your side. “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,”

“Hmm, I think I can understand why.” You grab a cookie while the boys aren’t looking and offer one to El. “Have you ever had an oatmeal raisin cookie?”

She shakes her head.

“Ah, well then you’re in for a treat. You see, I’m kinda known for my cookies. Everyone loves them, see?” You point towards the boys, who are about to start throwing punches over the biggest piece, and El giggles.

Your heart brightens at the sound. “Here you go, try it.”

She accepts the cookie and takes a tiny bite. As she chews, her eyes lighten and she lets out a quiet “yum”.

“‘Yum’ indeed.” You agree with a smile.

Eventually the kids settle down and eat their own cookies in silence. You figure that the events from today have finally caught up to them, so you eat your own cookies in peace. You’re content to sit with them for a bit, relieved to have all your boys with you safe and sound. You’ve missed them.

Once you’re done eating, you wipe your hands off and gently nudge El aside. “Sorry, honey. I should go check on Jonathan. I’ll be back in a sec.”

She nods at you and moves so that you’re able to get up.

“Where you going?” Dustin asks with his mouth full.

You make a face at him. “Dude, don’t talk with your mouth full. You know mom hates that.”

He sticks his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes. “I’m going to go find Jonathan. Make sure no one leaves, alright?”

Your brother salutes you and you salute back before heading towards the gym doors. You’re about to open the doors, but then you see Jonathan sitting with Nancy against the wall through the glass panel.

You freeze, unsure if you should interrupt them. They seem to be deep in a private conversation, Nancy’s face is twisted with so many emotions you feel almost guilty for looking in. Like you’re intruding on something.

Then again, it always feels like you’re intruding when you’re with them lately.

Is this really what you want?

Your hand hovers over the door handle and for a moment you think you’ll pull it open, but you don’t. Instead, you turn around and walk back over to the kids. You’re not sure what you’re feeling as you walk over, but when Dustin sees you he seems to notice a change in your demeanor.

He frowns at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” You say numbly, sitting down next to him. Your shoulders are stiff, your leg is bouncing up and down.

Dustin looks over towards where you came from and he seems to freeze as well. He looks between you, then Jonathan and Nancy in the hallway, and he exhales. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

You think your brother will leave the topic at that, but he surprises you. He grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. You look up and see that he’s smiling at you and your heart breaks all over again for an entirely different reason. You look around at Lucas and Mike, who are bickering over the cookies, at El who watches in amusement, and then finally at Dustin who is holding your hand and offering you whatever comfort he can provide you.

Dustin knows you as well as you know him, he can sense a shift in your mood before you even can. He’s here with you, holding your hand because the boy you love has broken your heart once again, and Dustin is doing this without you having to tell him. He just knows, and you love him all the more for it.

You’re surrounded by so much love it takes your breath away for a moment.

You squeeze Dustin’s hand back, so immensely grateful that he’s your brother. “I love you, kid.”

He smiles that wonderful toothless smile that you’ve loved since he was a baby. “I love ya too, sis.”

“Are you two done? Can I ask Y/N for more cookies now?” Mike calls over, though his voice is kinder than usual. You guess that even he has noticed your mood change but doesn’t want to pry.

You wipe your eyes quickly and stand up. “So demanding. Let me check my bag, but I doubt it.”

“I’m your favorite, let’s be honest here.” He responds, trying to get you to laugh.

It works. “Sure, buddy.”

You walk over to your bag and rustle around, but you know there’s none left. You’re just thankful for the distraction, and you have a sneaking suspicion that this had been Mike’s plan all along. You look up and see him staring at you with a concerned look in his eyes and your heart swells even more.

You’re so surrounded by love; sometimes it feels like you’re even drowning in it.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

[amourkive]

EXPEDITION| MYG

a/n: erm....hit a writers block with this one NGL...and I feel like I made it too long at the end. Also added Jungkook bc of the circumstances of the fic lol, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless !! Stay Gold⁷ -miri

masterlist

/ᐠ• ㅅ •ᐟ\

"Hey, you ready?" Yoongi asked, leaning against his car, hands cradled in the warmth of his hoodie pocket. You had just walked out the house, eyes squinting at the assaulting brightness that your house lacked a few minutes prior.

With a single nod, you dragged your suitcase down the driveway of your house, hauling it into the trunk, as you pushed yoongi away to start the car; it was cold and you didn't care for a "gentleman's gesture" at this moment.

"I'm so tired! I should have chosen a later time to leave." You buckled your seatbelt with a whine as Yoongi let out an amused snort, putting the car in drive, slowly leaving the side of the street.

"that's why I'm here...so you don't have to drive yourself, just close your eyes, I'll wake you up when we arrive at the airport, okay? Let Min Yoongi handle this." He stated, pulling a blanket from the backseat, over your lap.

"....okay, min yoongi. I'm trusting you." you muttered, poking the side of his arm, and with that you lowered the seat, covered yourself better, and went back to dreamland.

"Hey, uhm, baby?..." You heard, and you couldn't tell if it was from your dream or not. "baby..." you heard again, and realized it was yoongi. Which, was alarming.

He only ever called you baby in two conditions:

1. when he really wanted you to do something

2.when he does something that he knows is going to upset you so he tries using the baby card

You opened your eyes, face to face with a sheepish looking yoongi, who had his lip in between his teeth. "you called me baby, what did you do." and he put his head down, with a sigh.

"it wasn't my fault! totally out of my control!" he defended himself immediately, pulling away from you, placing his hands on the steering wheel, "the car broke down." he muttered, and you sighed, leaning back into the seat.

of course it did.

Before you could say anything, Yoongi was already next to you again, head on your shoulder, and you knew he felt bad. "you know how the battery gets when it's winter....i should have asked Hyung for his car like you said, and I'm sorry about that, but- then what would be the point in having our car? I thought it would at least make it to the airp-"

"gigi...nicest way possible, shut up." you spoke softly, placing your hand on his cheek, rubbing it comfortingly. "you didn't know it was gonna break down at this moment...did you call anyone?"

you feel him nod his head, with a sigh, "yeah I called a tow company, and Jungkook-he's the closest so he said he'll take you. I'll have to wait for them here." Even though you figured that much, you still frowned hearing it out loud. Yoongi wasn't going to see you off back home.

"well come on...it's cold, and I'm still tired." you sat up, him moving away from you in the process, watching as you, quite difficulty, went to the back seats, with the blanket. You turned to face him, as he sat in his seat, and rolled your eyes.

"I want cuddles, gigi. C'mon~ before I leave, please?" you griped, holding your arms open, for him. (he was going to whether you asked or not, but he liked the extra effort)

once he made it to the back, like a koala to a tree, you clung to him right in-between his legs, his warmth stopping the cold that lingered. Sighing with satisfaction, you leaned into him more, as he ran his fingers through your hair. It was like you forgot the car broke down and you had to make it to the airport in less than an hour.

"how long are you staying at your parents, baby?" he asked, him trying to keep conversation for he felt a little drowsy now himself. "just a month...maybe less, depending." weakly shrugging, turning to face him,

"are you gonna miss me?" and really, him laughing was not the answer you expected. "of course I'm going to miss you. who else is gonna bother me-" "hey!" "sorry not bother, keep me company! who's gonna keep me company?"

You smiled, "Jungkook."

yoongi tsked, shaking his head, "yeah right. more like he'd keep me up more than I already do." "no, baby, Jungkook's right there." In a swift motion, yoongi turned his head to see Jungkook drawing hearts around his head, and he had to force himself to not roll his eyes.

"oh, yay, how nice of him to arrive." he muttered sarcastically, patting the side of your leg, for you to get up, so he can get out and help.

"hello you two lovebirds! having fun ? I bet you were~" with a smack to the head, he pouted, crossing his arms. "I was just kidding! gosh, can't take jokes anymore? what a loser."

At this point, Jungkook was talking to himself, because yoongi had all his focus on you, clambering out of the backseat, and right into his arms.

"can't Jungkook stay with the car, and you take me? no offense kook-" "none taken, really." "-i just...I really wanted you to be there when I left."

Yoongi pursed his lips, looking down at you, wishing he could. "you know I would if I could...but they're gonna need me for the information. I'm sorry, baby."

you nodded, understandingly, because once again, you knew that. But still the circumstances sucked. "it's okay, I give good hugs too hyung." Jungkook added, with a shrug which made you laugh a little. He was trying to lighten the mood, but you don't think yoongi appreciated it.

"you want to get smacked upside the head a couple more times don't you?" he asked, looking over towards Jungkook, his grip tightening on you. "be nice, gigi... he's only trying to be nice. Plus-" you look down at your phone that you pulled out from your pocket, "I should be going now."

yoongi sighed, "how about I just take you instead? Jungkook give me your keys, I'll be back before they even come." jungkook shook his head, "not possible! it's a 30 minute drive there and back! that's more than an hour! I highly doubt you'll be back before they come."

You nodded in agreement, "he has a point, yoongi. Just do what needs to be done." he frowned, "but if we go now-" "Sorry to interrupt but any of you Min Yoongi?" With a look towards you, Yoongi nodded, walking up to the guy, "yeah. that's me. Just- can you give me a minute?"

Once the guy nodded, Yoongi turned back to you, grabbing your face in his hands. "I'll miss you." You nodded, grabbing onto his sweatshirt, "I'll miss you too...I'll call you when I make it there." He smiled, "I know you will...please be careful. If anything happens to you I will-"

"-be on the first plane to me." you laughed, "I know. you say it all the time. I'll be careful, you know, all that good stuff. So, don't worry so much."

"augh, my sweet girl has to leave, what will I do for the next month?" Yoongi muttered, leaning down placing a kiss on your nose, before placing two on your cheeks. You smiled, relishing in his kisses, giggling as he placed one on your lips.

"you won't have to worry about her leaving if you guys don't finish this goodbye. Sorry to ruin this cute moment of course-" "we were getting there, Jungkook! Read the room sometimes man, just go before I might actually keep her here." Yoongi whined, letting you go with one last kiss.

As you walked with Jungkook to his car, Yoongi kept his eyes on you, until you disappeared in the car. As Jungkook drove past, you blew yoongi a kiss, smiling as he pretended to put it in his pocket, finally turning to face the tow guy.

You sat back in your seat, smiling softly. A month. Then you'll be able to give Yoongi all the kisses you wanted.

[tonydaddingham]

the reading comprehension on this godforsaken website is genuinely insane. it's such shit ppl went after you for responding. fwiw you singlehandedly restored my faith in the GO fandom a little while back, some of the only well thought-out takes for miles (til i started clicking on the reblogs n found more). there was nothing wrong with defending yourself from people who didn't even read the meta. for something you put this much effort into, it'd be weirder not to be defensive

ive sat on the whole thing over the last dozen or so hours now, with a good mixture of upset, anger, some kind of numbness, and incredible amounts of anxiety. i posted that response out of the second; i was really angry, and i flew off the handle. whilst i don't appreciate being told by the other anon that i shouldn't be so attached/shouldn't have been so upset, they have a point, and were right to highlight (intentionally or not) at the very least that that is the root of the problem. i likened the fiasco to some secondary school bullshit, but i didn't realise - or want to acknowledge - that that applied to me too. the whole thing has reawakened ancient history that i thought i had gotten over years ago - more than a decade ago, even - and it very much turns out that that isn't the case, and was simply buried. the uncomfortable thing i also ran into is that the incident has made me re-examine myself with a little more, and definitely overdue, scrutiny - the post attacked at what i now think was my ego, and my over-confidence, and sense of entitlement. that's so uncomfortable to admit, but here we are.

i don't mind people disagreeing with me, but i still stand firm that i don't think sending an ask ridiculing someone, or adding tags that equally can be interpreted as being plain unkind, is a nice thing to do. it's shit - i felt humiliated, and self-conscious in a fandom that until this point, for all my controversial takes 😂 - had made me feel that i had a space to share them, and whilst may not be agreed with, would still be valued by nature of them belonging to a person. i have no doubt that everything on that post wasn't at all personal, but it still felt that what i had spent a lot of time, excitement, and joy writing was worthy of being laughed at, as if i were stupid for writing it (let me be clear - idc if people think the original post and the take within it is wrong, that's absolutely fair enough). it then called into question - what else have people been nice to me about, politely interacting with me about, and yet elsewhere those same people are being horrible about it?

that line of overthinking is entirely my issue, that's noone else's fault, but i do think that had these people just simply kept their opinion to a DM, or somewhere else where the original poster is unlikely/not going to see it, it might have all been avoided. people are entitled to share their opinion, i have no issues with that fact, but it can have consequences... just like the consequences of me rb'ing it once the anger had set in, and i ceased to think rationally. i am sorry that i reacted out of anger, without much - if any - rational thought; that it was bitchy as fuck, and - without the maelstrom of emotion attached to it, as it was from my perspective - it was objectively uncalled for. im embarrassed i reacted like that, and im aware that its only served to make me come across as even more ridiculous than the original post ever could 😂 but i want to settle in with what this has brought up, especially the shitty stuff that i thought i had long gotten over, and look at why i reacted the way i did - i think i was right to defend myself, but perhaps not in the way that i did.

as a separate note, and just really as a PSA to anyone waiting on me in my ask box or has sent me messages - im going to halt on posting any original posts/asks for a while (knowing me, because i can't help myself, a 'while' will probably be like a day). that's in part because im shitting bricks about posting anything in general (this ask response included), but also because - like i said before - i don't want to continue posting stuff when im now wondering how much is coming from a less-than-humble place - im worried that it's a lot more than i ever thought, which is vulnerable, but that's how it goes.

[kiridarling]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | f!reader, implied(ish) mafia!kats, choking, exhibitionism, cockwarming, riding, mild corruption themes, degradation, whore/slut!calling. minors dni!

— 2.5k words

"Listen, I don't give a fuck about your friend—I wanna get to know you better."

“Um, excuse me? Have you seen my friend?”

The ash-blond swimming in smoke stills, mid-conversation with some half-dressed woman to his right. In fact, all the half-dressed women snap their heads your way, all ten of them, sizing you up in your non-promiscuous dress and heels (not compared to theirs, at least) and obvious awkwardness and uncouthness. The ash-blond frowns.

“How’d you fuckin’ get in here?”

“Um,” you glance at the green-haired bouncer who let you through—he’s too busy guarding the entrance to notice. “I just pretended like I knew who you were and he...let me in?”

“Fuckin’ Deku,” the ash-blond groans, rubbing a hand over his face before tossing it over the back of the booth. “Whadd’ya want?”

“Um, I was wondering if you’ve seen my friend,” you repeat, hands fiddling with your bracelets as you crack under the pressure of all the eyes. “She’s um, kinda short with long brown hair. I don’t...it was hard to see the color of her dress in the dark, but I think it was purple?”

The ash-blond blinks as you fumble over your words, causing a second of silence where he does nothing but stare until he snaps, digging his cigar into the ash-tray with finality.

“All right. Shoo, ladies.”

The women surrounding the ash-blond whine and boo. He seems unfazed though, simply shrugging as he says:

“Gotta help this pretty thing find her friend.”

The women clear out quickly and quietly after that. And though you’re unsure why, many of them shoot very nasty looks your way as they pass under the neon red exit sign and into the chaotic club. They look like they want to kill you.

Anyways.

“So...does that mean you know where my friend is?”

“Nope,” the ash-blond says, popping the ‘p’ as he adjusts to the extra space in the booth. “But you get a solid fuckin’ view from up here. Sit.”

You nod and take the spot next to him, scanning the crowd below with narrowed eyes. You look for something, anything that could hint at where your friend could be, but wind up empty-handed.

"D'ya come here often?" he asks, and you shake your head.

"No. I mean, I heard the place is kind of new anyway, so," you shrug absentmindedly. You think you see your friend for a second, just catching a glimpse of brown hair, but once the girl turns, it's clear she's not who you're looking for. Dammit.

"Guess so," the man grunts. You hear him shift but you don't look. "The o—"

"Shoes, did you see her shoes?" You ask before realizing your thought process is light years ahead of his. He gives you a blank look. "I mean—sorry, they're like, really high stilettos with gold on the bottom. I think."

The stranger's angled eyebrows drop. "No."

"Dammit," you click your tongue, before turning back to the crowd. No...no...no...no...

"Listen, I'm not gonna sugar coat it—I don't give a fuck about your friend." He says with a sigh. Your head snaps to look at him because it doesn't matter if he meant it, that's rude, but your thoughts disintegrate into nothing as he grabs you by the chin and says, "I wanna get to know you better."

"Um," You swallow. He's close to the point where your eyes cross trying to put him into focus. "M-Me?"

"You," he confirms with a cocked eyebrow. "What, never been the center of attention before, Princess?"

You falter. Not like this.

"So," he continues when you don't respond. "What's your name, Princess? I'm Katsuki."

You give him yours and meet his hand halfway for a handshake, much too aware of how big it is compared to yours. Katsuki hums, both arms on either side of your being and ultimately, caging you to the booth.

"Y/N..." He repeats, experimentally, like he's trying to see how it fits in his mouth. You don't mind the way it sounds coming from him. "I like it.”

"O-Oh, um," you're unsure of what to say, so you do nothing but blush and place a hand to his chest. You try your hardest to hide your surprise upon feeling how firm it is. "Thank you."

"Don't gotta thank me for stating the obvious," Katsuki grunts, adjusting so his eyes are leveled with yours. "What do you like to do, Y/N?"

There's a hand on your thigh.

It sits right where your dress stops, and it burns—but you find yourself unsure of what you want it to do, whether you want it to go away or continue its journey up. And that's exactly what it does, as Katsuki thumbs the hem to your skirt and you try your hardest to focus on your reply.

"U-Um..." you panic, too much heat in his eyes for comfort. "I don't know."

Katsuki raises an eyebrow in faint amusement, "You don't know?"

"W-Well, I mean—!" You try after realizing how utterly empty-headed you must sound. Katsuki's chuckle diffuses your efforts fairly quickly.

"You're cute, you know that?" He says gruffly, carmine red eyes burning through the dark of the club. You suppress the urge to shrink.

"I—um, thank you," you flush embarrassingly red. Katsuki's eyes study your being for a moment, flickering up and down, and up again until he's tapping the side of your thigh twice.

"Sit in my lap, Princess."

He guides you using your wrist and for some reason you allow him to guide you into his lap, grunting as he nestles you on him comfortably as he overlooks the club. You falter upon feeling something...strangely hard. “What’s that?”

“My dick,” Katsuki grunts, almost absentmindedly, and yet the vulgar comment takes you so off guard that it nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Oh.”

“‘S your fault for gettin’ me all worked up, Princess,” Katsuki’s hands find their way around your waist before they’re guiding your hips into rolling small, smooth circles against him. Katsuki’s back thumps against the back of the booth as he admires the view, groaning behind a bitten lip. “Told ya to sit still and you didn’t listen.”

You suppose that’s valid.

Plus, you’re enjoying the little groans he’s letting out—along with the sharp inhales when your hips dig harder into his.

“How um—how do I help?”

“Just keep sittin’ pretty, Princess,” Katsuki growls, and you nod, allowing him to guide your hips to his will. It’s a lot of movement, and you find yourself shying away from the balcony as he hikes your dress up to your waist—ultimately exposing the entirety of your lower half. Your goosebumps rise.

“What if people see?”

”They won’t. We’re too high up,” Katsuki soothes, rubbing a thumb over your ribcage as he hooks his chin over your shoulder. “And if they’re fuckin’ nosy? Let ‘em see. The sick fuckers will appreciate the show.”

Let them see. You shiver at that.

Katsuki’s running his hot hands all over your body and they make you feel nothing short of sexy, sliding them up the sides of your body until they curve over your breasts, and drop back down to your hips. They move as if they’re mapping out your body, trying to figure out what makes you tick and what makes you crumble, and you sigh along with the satisfying glide.

“Fuck...you have a better body than those girls ever will,” he groans, but you flush at the way he seems to say it more to himself than to you. “Fuckin’ perfect, fuck.”

“T-Thank you,” you flush, unsure if you were supposed to take the praise or not. Katsuki chuckles.

“So fuckin’ cute, too. You’re welcome, Princess.” His hands move from your waist to the sides of your thighs, tapping twice with open palms. “Squat.”

“Squat?” You confirm with furrowed eyebrows. Katsuki grunts and manhandles you to your feet with a sigh. There isn’t a whole lot of space between the booth and the railing, forcing you to fold over the banister with the cool thing pressing into your gut and your arms keep you from falling completely. You shiver from the cool air as his fingers hook around the fabric of your panties, and then you feel something hot kiss your entrance before Katsuki’s guiding you back down using your hips.

You’re full of him, immediately, and you struggle to hide a whimper as he wastes no time in bottoming out.

“O-Oh—“

“Never had somethin’ this big before, huh Princess?” Katsuki’s strained voice is the only evidence that lets you know he’s feeling good, and you’re tightening around him with a nod.

“N-No, definitely not.”

You have to rest your head against the buzzing railing to just breathe through it, to adjust, and Katsuki chuckles at your shuddering chest. He taps a steady rhythm that matches the beat of the music into your side but doesn’t move, and you find a strange comfort in the vibrating club, with the addition of something inside you providing a uniquely comfortable warmth.

"C-Can I—"

"No," Katsuki grunts, placing heavy hands on your hips to ensure you'll stay in place. "Find your fuckin' friend, first. Y'got a good view."

You whimper and nod, resting your forehead against the cool railing. Fuck—he fills you up too well. As you watch people live their lives down below, you rake your eyes through the crowd in search of a purple dress—and you come up empty.

"I-I don't even know if she's here," you defend, chest shuddering. Katsuki chuckles, though it's laced with something heavier.

"Really? 'Cause you were so fuckin’ sure about twenty minutes ago."

Katsuki's hand cracks against your ass—with a sound you're surprised no one heard over the music—and you yelp. "Dirty fuckin' girl, grinding back on my cock. Impatient girls get punished, you know."

You nearly moan behind a bitten lip. You weren't even aware you were moving.

“F-Found her,” you barely croak out, so relaxed your upper body practically drapes off the balcony. Katsuki snorts, leaning forwards so his mouth is flush against the back of your neck—you gasp from the adjustment.

“Prove it.” He grunts breathily, clearly in a similar condition.

“U-Um, the gold stilettos," you barely manage, and Katsuki hisses as you tighten around him to point down into the fray—lo and behold, there she is, in the middle of the goddamn dance floor with some guy you've never seen before. You...suppose you're in a similar situation. A better one.

"Good girl," the ash-blond coos. Shivering, your hips rolling on their own, but this time Katsuki lets them. You don't stop. “Fuckin’ choking my cock, shit.”

His hands get a little shaky and though it’s hard to discern through your own arousal, you take note of how thin his voice sounds, and continue to roll your hips in the way that makes him shiver. Katsuki starts to trail kisses up your neck which turns into a bite of your earlobe, causing you to hiss from the feeling.

“‘S good?” You ask—Katsuki’s chest vibrates against your back.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he huffs, guiding hands sliding down your waist. “Keep goin’.”

Not that you were planning on stopping.

Katsuki’s hands slide between your thighs to rub at your clit. You nearly shout, thighs seizing, and the ash-blond chuckles at your inability to stay quiet as if he wasn’t sliding a free hand up your dress to play with your chest.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl—you aren’t even trying to hide it now, are ya? Moanin’ in the club like a goddamn whore.”

You nearly choke at that, slamming a hand over your lips to muffle the sound. Not that anyone would be able to hear you over the club music, but still. Public decency.

Either way, your reaction has Katsuki chuckling, and he hooks his chin over your shoulder as he says, “You like it when I call you dirty, Princess? You like when I point out how fuckin’ filthy you are for me?”

You nod your head vehemently, now bouncing on Katsuki’s cock with a newfound enthusiasm—and you figure the slap on your ass is a signal to respond.

“Answer me, slut.”

“Y-Yeah, I do,” you whimper, and Katsuki’s hand crawls from your breasts to your neck, cutting off your oxygen supply in the best way. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, nearly gasping as you slur:

“Gonna—gonna cum.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock in the middle of a club, huh?” Katsuki’s chuckle strains from arousal and you’re positive he’s not that far behind. The hand on your clit speeds up and Katsuki curses as you tighten around him, teeth digging into the meat of your shoulder.

“Cum for me, Princess, fuckin’ do it—“

You squeeze around him with a shout before your orgasm comes over you, shoulders shuddering. Katsuki groans out a broken good girl before his hips buck and grip tightens around your waist as he cums, hands guiding your hips to ride both of your orgasms out until they finally come to a still.

You shiver as Katsuki catches his breath in your neck. Eventually, your racing hearts beat in time with the music and bodies cool enough to not feel so slick with sweat, and finally, Katsuki pulls out with a groan. He doesn't remove you from his lap, though.

"You good?"

You nod, fixing your hair in hopes that you'll look more put together than you feel. "Yeah—yeah I'm fine. You?"

Katsuki turns you in his lap to face him (though it does take some awkward clambering due to the limited space). He zips up his fly and you pull down your dress, the next steps about as uncertain as walking in the dark.

"Why're you asking me?"

"I dunno," you shrug, bottom lip poking out in indifference, "Pussy can take a lot out of a guy, I guess."

Katsuki's pale pink lips slide into a lazy smile, and he drops his head with a snort. "I—yeah okay. Sure."

"What?" You giggle, gesturing at his heaving chest before crossing your hands over yours with a huff. "You're out of breath, aren't you? I did all the work."

Katsuki chuckles at your petulance, shaking his head in defeat, "Y'got me there."

He rests his head against the backboard of the booth to give you a look. You can't put your finger on it, but you feel exposed nonetheless, and you struggle not shrink from it. He licks his lips, "You drink, Princess?"

"Depends," you shrug. The ash-blond grins.

"What do you like?"

"Shirley Temples," you giggle, coiling your arms around his neck. Katsuki's hands return to your waist and it's...comfortable. "Why, you wanna buy me one?"

Katsuki makes a face that signifies yes, he does, and you follow his eyes in peering towards the dance floor again. You see your friend exactly where you saw her last, and upon feeling eyes on her, she looks around to find yours. She shoots you a wink—you roll your eyes.

"What about your friend?" Katsuki snorts, lifting an eyebrow. You snort.

"I found her, didn't I?" You wink, standing to your feet to pull him towards the bar. "Now c'mon! Doing all that work made me thirsty."

click to return to CLUB 777.

[yandere-sins]

"Stop fucking looking at me like that!"

Referencing this post I made, I thought why not :’D

»»———————— ♡ ————————««        

Rummaging through the big chest, Enderman supplied it with the new items he gathered. Meat, vegetables, a potion for the worst case. Buckets of water and milk, everything you needed to have as a human. It should be enough to last at least for the upcoming weak, but you had been complaining about it rotting and molding since you couldn’t eat it fast enough or preserve it. You were also craving fruits. Biting his lip, he thought hard about how to accommodate your wishes better when he suddenly heard the growling of a zombie nearby, making him come to an immediate stop.

If he was quiet enough, the zombie shouldn’t be able to make you out inside this little, sparely filled room he created. No one said it would be easy to accumulate enough obsidian to build this hut. Still, it was the only way to keep you safe, even if it took him forever. All these monsters and treacherous villagers outside were after you, and even if he was able to keep them at bay for a long time, what if one day he couldn’t be around to keep you from harm? Perhaps it wasn’t a very pretty domicile, but it was safe. The only light source was one window, but he built it high enough so no zombie, skeleton, or creeper would be able to look through it. He collected a bed for you, chests, and books from the village, but that was all there was to keep you busy.

Enderman listened intently, waiting for the footsteps and grunts to disappear before he could let out a sigh of relief. Even with all the precautions he made, one could never be too safe. Even if he wasn’t worried about himself, if it was for you, he’d do everything to keep you far away from the dangerous mobs roaming the world. Continuing to pack your chest with edibles, he didn’t notice you slowly waking up, rising behind him. Enderman made a point out of coming at night rather than day to avoid the one thing that made him uncomfortable. While he would have loved interacting with you, the human custom of keeping eye contact was something he could never bear to endure. Not even for you.

Even now, your eyes drilling into his back, he began to shake anxiously, hoping you’d recognize him and go back to sleep.

But you didn’t.

You never did.

“It’s late,” he chuckled nervously, slowly closing the lid of the chest before standing up. He had to raise the ceiling quite a bit after realizing he couldn’t fit the space after he built it. Even if he could teleport in and out at his leisure, with his size, it would have been hard to stay with you in an emergency had he kept it at his first draft. But he learned that humans quite liked high ceilings, and secretly he hoped that meant you liked him too, considering his size.

“You should be sleeping. I brought new food, so you can rest assured.”

Was he just talking to overcome the awkwardness? You’ve been nearly killing him with this silent treating of yours, only ever looking at the back of his head. It was unfathomable why you’d treat him with such disrespect. He had voiced his discomfort more than once, but you insisted that you hated his treatment of you, and as such, he’d have to endure the same. But how could you? All of this was only ever in your best interest. Out there, you’d have done the same to keep safe - build a home and gathered food - so why did you hate it when he did it? Wasn’t he good to you? Didn’t he try his best to fulfill all your wishes? Was it too much to ask for that you were safe under his care?

“Please stop,” he whispered with clenched teeth, the shaking of his body getting stronger. “What more do I need to do to make you stop looking at me like that?”

“Let me go,” you finally spoke up, the sound of your voice almost as beautiful as he remembered it--no, even better! A quiet gasp escaped him after finally receiving a word from you, and he turned around for the first time in forever to face you.

A big mistake.

Your eyes met as Enderman suddenly felt overcome with a wave of emotions. He wished it had been only positive ones, but there was no way he could escape his instincts. Doubling over in pain, he grunted, trying to keep himself under control, but to no avail. Even in his state, he could clearly perceive the shuffling of blankets as you got up, noticing the state he was in. Though he wanted to believe you cared for him, it was clear you were merely concerned about what to do if something happened to him. But that would be enough. Even if you just liked him for his use, it would be enough to satisfy him. As long as he could keep you safe, you could use him as much as he wanted.

The obsidian made no sound as he gripped you by the wrists, slamming you into the wall. Your body, on the other hand, made an absolutely horrifying crack, so much so, Enderman feared the worst already. But one look at your eyes showed them clear as day, still very much able to perceive him. Perhaps adrenaline soothed your pain momentarily.

“Stop fucking looking at me like that! I told you so many times to fucking stop! When will you listen?!”

His yell filled the whole space around you two. If he hadn’t been seething with anger, he’d have instantly regretted raising his voice. No less because it could have attracted unwanted visitors. Enderman had never lashed out at you before, never done anything that would put you into the opposite of what he wanted - danger. But here he was, eyes falling to your mouth as your breath hitched, unable to form a word. All you did - finally! - was looking down and away from him before pinching your eyelids close tightly.

Immediately, he felt much calmer, now that you weren’t drilling holes into him anymore. Regaining his senses, he let go of you, letting you plummet back onto the bed he held you above. Whether or not you were in pain wasn’t something either of you seemed to notice. Instead, you were quick to hug yourself, fearful tears rolling from the closed corners of your eyes despite no sobs escaping you. You had no weapons to defend yourself, and a punch didn’t do as much as one of his did to you. It must have been a big shock for you to see the other side of Enderman, one you had a hard time comprehending.

Placing his hand on your shoulder, you flinched noticeably before finally breaking down into crying, collapsing forward onto the mattress. Enderman stood there lost for words or actions to console you, wanting to say something, apologize even! It didn’t matter who’s fault it was, he never wanted to see you hurt or crying! That’s why he did all of this after all!

Instead, he remembered the peculiar thing he found in one of the villages. It was a banner, something he thought you might enjoy hanging up in your tiny home, but when he reached for it now, he had a different idea of what to do with it. Ripping off the bottom wasn’t easy even for him, especially since he allowed no tools or scissors in this safe space. But once he had it, he returned to your side, kneeling next to your bed and lifting your head gently. You tried to turn your face away, but he had a tight grip on you, nudging you to face him. Good as you were, you kept your eyes closed still.

Even if he couldn’t be sure how to do it, he loosely tied the cloth around your head, covering your eyes with it. “W-What…?” you stuttered meekly, feeling the fabric on your skin, and Enderman hushed you gently. “This will do. You won’t be able to look at me this way. You’ll never need to be afraid anymore; this will keep you safe, I promise.”

Whether his assurance went through to you, he couldn’t decide, unable to read your expression as you bit your lip. Your body began to shake again, and it felt almost like his whenever you made him uncomfortable and anxious. Enderman knew this feeling all too well, but you wouldn’t need to bear it alone. He could if he had to, but he wouldn’t let you go through these complicated feelings alone.

Easily, with inhuman strength, he picked you up, sitting down where you had been just seconds ago, and lifted you into his lap. Finally, his big body and long arms were good for something, even if he hadn’t expected it would be comforting you. If it was for him, you two could have continued the relationship you had. Enderman would have simply stayed by your side while you slept, brushing the hair out of your face and pulling up the blanket over you to make sure you had a good rest. You didn’t need to recognize his efforts, and you could even scream at him if you’d prefer that, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He knew you were safe and well-taken care of, and he’d never forget you needed him. That was enough.

But now that he held you in his arms, he wasn’t sure if it was enough for him anymore.

Now that this awful habit of looking at him had been prevented, nothing was stopping him from being close to you. Now he could touch you, hold you, comfort you tenderly! All without fearing what might happen. “It’s going to be alright now,” he hushed you sweetly. “I’m so sorry I lashed out, I will do everything to make it up to you! I’ll bring new books and flowers to decorate with soon, everything will be okay. You can always rely on me; I’ll keep you company from now on, trust me!”

He meant it. Even if he didn’t understand most of the complicated feelings you had, you must have felt relieved as you started to cry even more. And so was he. He was relieved too. Who knew being with you so close, holding you, and swaying back and forth with you felt so wonderful. The only other time he held you, felt your warmth and heartbeat, had been when he teleported you inside of this room. Enderman had always believed that to be the height of all emotions, but he now realized there was so much more! So many more opportunities and feelings to explore. But you had time, right? He wouldn’t be greedy; he’d take his time to explore them all with you and enjoy them thoroughly.

After all, you were safest with him.

And he was the happiest with you.

[pippytmi]

Howdy! For the little au trope prompt ask. 2, 2, 39. Supercorp please. Thank you! (Hope it helps your writer's block!)

Everyone knows that when the Quidditch season starts, rivalries begin.

As a general rule, Lena doesn’t mind the Gryffindors. If she had to pick a house she hated, the Slytherins would be the unfortunate lot; Veronica Sinclair and Andrea Rojas alone give the group a bad name. (That could be Lena’s own personal bias, given the fact that both girls have broken her heart, but she maintains it goes far deeper than that). But the point stands—Lena isn’t a hateful person. Generally.

There is just something about Kara Danvers that brings it out of her. The one and only Gryffindor that Lena despises is that moronic, reckless Chaser who scores nearly every single goal she takes. The Ravenclaw team is nothing to sneeze at either, but Lena hates that of all people to throw her off her game, it is a girl who blew up her broom when attempting to fly on it during her first year. Seven years that she has known Kara, and still Lena is annoyed at the mere sight of those perpetually-askew glasses, those untucked robes, that undone tie; Kara Danvers is never expected to be poised and perfect, even with all the expectations on her shoulders. She’s just so...blasé. People talk about Kara like she is destined to join a Quidditch team straight out of Hogwarts and all Kara does is stroll into the Great Hall on game day with her head in the clouds.

So far up the clouds that she apparently can’t watch where she is going, either. Lena throws Kara the nastiest glare she can muster when they just about knock each other’s heads together, but all Kara does at the sight of it is grin. She always grins, not in a way that is arrogant or snide, but stupidly amused. Stupidly amused, as if everything Lena says or does is a bloody laugh, like Lena’s simmering hatred is nothing more than an inside joke.

“Hey, Luthor,” Kara says cheerfully, and there she goes, pushing those crooked glasses up her nose. There is a scratch on one lens, and Kara has either not noticed or not bothered to repair it. “Trying to take out the competition a little early, even for you.”

“You were the one in my way, Danvers,” Lena replies tightly.

“Was I?” And here is the kicker, that golden girl charm that fools everyone: bright blue eyes peeking out beneath those eyelashes, hand rubbing at the back of her neck, undone tie slipping an inch further. Kara tilts her head unassumingly as if that is even an actual question.

It makes Lena furious. “Here’s a tip,” she says, “for here and the Quidditch field. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you could actually see where you’re headed.”

Kara has the audacity to look affronted. “Is this because of the Brainy incident during training? Because he and I agreed that it was a joint effort. Joint…blame. Whatever you call it.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Just keep your aggression to yourself, Danvers,” she mutters, and then she resolutely brushes past. She has no time for blank, witty banter, especially when this is the year’s first game and she has a team to rally.

“My—? Hey,” Kara’s voice rings out, louder than necessary, and that idiot is actually following her. “Hey, wait. Lena. Do you seriously think I’m aggressive? It was an accident! Both times!” A beat. “I mean both the Brainy thing and right now. I didn’t knock into Brainy twice. I did knock James off his broom once, but you probably don’t care about that since he’s not from your house, so…well anyway, just so you know, that was also an accident.”

“I have zero interest in your training squabbles,” Lena says exasperatedly, “and you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

“Oh so this is about the Brainy incident,” Kara says. “How many times do I have to say that the training pitch was ours?”

“According to you,” Lena counters. With that she whirls around, nearly colliding into Kara’s chest, but she still manages to lift her head up high and stare down that egotistical jackass. “I know you might think you’re entitled to any space you waltz into, but some of us mere mortals actually schedule training sessions. You know, like we’re supposed to.”

“I did schedule the—!” Kara has a tendency to become flustered mid-argument, it seems, because her mouth opens but no words come blustering out. Finally she settles on scowling when she declares, “You are a piece of work, you know that? Would it kill you to apologize to me once in a while?”

“That would imply that you have apologized to me at some point,” Lena scoffs. “Which you haven’t, for the record.”

“Yes I have,” Kara is quick to disagree.

Lena crosses her arms; it’s a challenge, and Kara immediately stands a little straighter when she notices. “Oh?” Lena prompts. “Like when?”

“Like…when I knocked into Brainy.”

“I fail to see how I fit in that scenario,” Lena says, “since you didn’t break my nose.”

Kara gives a little huff, as if this back and forth is all so inconvenient right now; as if she hasn’t instigated it. “Okay, but I apologized for disrupting your practice, remember? I took complete responsibility even though it was your fault you couldn’t keep track of when your team was scheduled—”

“That was not an apology. You literally said ‘Sorry Luthor, we need this more than you do’ and then refused to leave for the next half hour!”

“But I said sorry in there, ergo, it is an apology.”

“Well then, when my team beats yours to dust I’ll be sure to apologize properly for that in that exact same sympathetic manner,” Lena sneers.

Somehow, trash talk only makes that dumb, signature Kara Danvers grin come back, completely wiping away any sign of vexation. “Oh yeah? Tell me more, wise old Ravenclaw—”

Before Lena can even begin to dissect that childish comeback (and stupid sing-songy imitation of the Sorting Hat), other students come filtering down the hall and they are practically swept up in the masses. One kid completely shoulders Lena before she even realizes what’s happening; she stumbles to the left, nearly collides with the wall, and opens her mouth to shout, but then:

“Hey!” Kara is already brandishing her wand with one hand and catching the boy’s collar with the other. “Ten points from Hufflepuff! You could’ve hurt someone, walking around without looking where you’re going.”

Lena bites her tongue to stop from making a quip on how ironic that statement is, because Kara is engrossed in a stare-off with the pimply sixth year who is demanding to see her prefect badge to prove Kara can even take points. She would normally side with the kid—anything to knock Kara Danvers down a peg—but, well. For once, Lena can’t be bothered to actively hate someone getting into a heated argument on her behalf.

Two minutes later and the boy stomps off with ten points gone from his house and a detention to boot. Kara, meanwhile, is still frowning as he leaves. “Are you okay?” she asks absentmindedly, still tracking the kid’s every movement with her eyes. “I swear, if there weren’t so many witnesses I would’ve hexed him.”

“Winning move for a prefect, I’m sure,” Lena says dryly, and Kara turns towards her with that slow-growing buffoonish smile and another sheepish nudge of her glasses. Her next words kind of just fall out, almost as if she’d never formed them in her mouth but in the deep recesses of her subconscious alone: “You know, you confuse me.”

“Huh?” Another nudge. The smile slips a fraction, but just enough to show Kara is slightly confused by the change in subject.

You confuse me, Lena wants to repeat. You are the opposite of self-aware. You are messy, and reckless, and selfless whenever it counts and it’s confusing because all I can really hate you for is being able to get away with being imperfect and still be adored by everyone.

But none of those words, thankfully, leave her head. All she says is, “Your approach to discipline confuses me. It’s not like he purposely tried to run into me—ten points might have been too harsh.”

“This coming from the girl who once threatened to curse me into oblivion for tripping her when we were twelve?” Kara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who are you and what have you done to Lena Luthor? No, hold on, I know. You’re really Jess in disguise, right?”

“Hilarious, Danvers. I wouldn’t quit Quidditch, it might be the only place you’re suited for,” Lena mocks, but all Kara does is laugh.

“Nope, definitely Lena,” Kara says, and the way she says it is almost…fond. Come to think of it, Lena can’t remember a time where Kara actually called her Lena. It’s always Luthor and Danvers and stop breaking the faces of my best players and never—never anything else.

Lena clears her throat and looks away; she can’t take another second of those warm, bright eyes. “Whatever,” she says. “I…guess I’ll see you on the pitch.”

“Sure thing,” Kara says, and she takes a step back, tucking her wand into her pocket. “I’ll be the one rocking the winning team uniform.”

Slowly, Lena begins to feel the corner of her mouth twitch. Completely unbidden, completely unpredictable. “Dream on, Danvers.” She allows the space between them to grow, but their eyes remain locked, and the air feels heavy—thick—and the weight of their shared gaze holds a meaning Lena can’t possibly unpack right now.

But Kara’s tongue pokes out between her teeth cheerfully, and she doesn’t appear half as bothered by this development. “Always, if you’re in them,” she says, twists a little on her heel to walk away, but she pauses while she is still in earshot. “You know—next time you can just thank me for defending you.”

“You mean abusing your power as a prefect,” Lena replies automatically even as her head is running a mile a minute; even as Kara is getting farther and farther away and the scratch on her glasses lens catches the light.

“That too!” Kara shouts as she gets lost in the crowd, and damn her, Lena has to put her hand over her mouth to hide the absolute idiotic smile that has formed on her own face.

(Joint blame indeed, Lena muses, and she figures that she might as well form a rivalry with the Slytherins instead of the Gryffindors after all).

[sincerelystranger]

not enough 1

Authors Note: A Jiang Fengmian based AU where everyone survives. 

---

The thing is, is that his wife is almost right.

Almost.

Jiang Fengmian did find and bring Wei Wuxian to Yunmeng because of old love.

But it wasn’t Cangse Sanren. He had been in love long before she came down from the mountains.

And Wei Wuxian smiles and laughs and jokes just like his mother but…

But sometimes…

When he’s quiet. When he’s focused. When the light hits his face just so…

Well his wife is almost right.

---

His son is just like his mother, in both looks and personality.

His wife accuses him of being hard on him because of this.

She’s almost right.

But he’s not hard on his son because he’s like his mother. It’s because he’s not enough like his mother.

Jiang Fengmian is hard on Jiang Cheng because his son is just a little too much like him.

Jiang Fengmian had been arrogant once too. He had once believed the words of a man who swore to be by his side forever. He too had once taken that man for granted.

He watches Jiang Cheng angrily shove Wei Wuxian’s arm off his shoulder and walk off in a huff. Wei Wuxian laughs good-naturedly and follows, apologies spilling from his lips like music.

It shouldn’t.

It shouldn’t.

But the scene burns something hot in Jiang Fengmian’s gut. Something like jealousy makes its way up his spine.

He had been like that too, once.

He too had walked off angrily, knowing – trusting – someone to follow.

Jealousy worms its way up his spine but so does worry.

He’s hard on his son, because he loves his son. If he can, he wants to save Jiang Cheng from the heartbreak of walking off and turning around only to find himself alone. He wants to save Jiang Cheng from heartbreak. From regret. From loneliness.

He wants to save…

(himself)

---

Wei Changze was quiet and steady and handsome.

Jiang Fengmian can’t remember when he fell in love with him – even in his earliest memories, he’s already in love with Wei Changze.

Wei Changze had always been endlessly patient with him. Always protecting him and guiding him and forgiving him.

But Jiang Fengmian had been arrogant too once, and love didn’t stop him from taking Wei Changze for granted. And he had been so easy to take for granted.

Wei Changze, constant and never-complaining; Jiang Fengmian just always assumed that he would be there. He thought that they had an understanding.

Wei Changze would serve Jiang Fengmian always, and Jiang Fengmian would love him always.

He thought they had an understanding. It’s embarrassing now to remember how foolish he had been.

---

Jiang Fengmian goes back for his wife, and somehow – somehow – they make it out with their lives.

He wakes up in a small, musty hut, his daughter tending to him.

“Father is awake!” she cries. She tries to help him up with her thin arms.

He looks around the hut. His wife is propped up across from him, staring at him with hooded eyes. His son is tending to her. They are all dirty and bloody and worse for wear, but they’re alive.

He had been sure that he was a dead man. He had been prepared to die in Lotus Pier.

“How…?” he asks, his voice raspy from disuse. Yanli puts a cup near his mouth and he drinks hungrily. The water soothes his throat. “How did we get here?”

“A-Xian,” Yanli says and her voice breaks at the name. Tears stream down her face. “It’s A-Xian, father. He – he did something.”

“A crude body transfer spell,” his wife says suddenly, disdain dripping from her voice. She points at two dark spots on the floor of the hut. “He most likely switched our bodies with two corpses from the looks of it.”

His wife reaches behind her and pulls a talisman to show him. He feels Yanli rip something off his own back as well.

He looks around the hut.

His son. His daughter. His wife.

“Then where is Wei Wuxian?” he asks.

Jiang Cheng’s face crumbles at the question. Fat tears drop from his eyes and his lips tremble. “It’s my fault,” he says, his voice warbling pathetically. “I was so angry – I blamed him! I gave him no choice but to go back.”

Jiang Fengmian doesn’t feel completely in his right mind yet. He’s still reeling from having woken up when he was sure he was a dead man. He doesn’t understand what Jiang Cheng is trying to say. “Be more clear!” he says impatiently, “Where is Wei Wuxian?”

“Where do you think he is?” his wife answers sharply, her mouth lifting in disgust. “Do you think these talismans were placed on us by the Wens? Both you and I were at death’s door. On who’s spiritual energy do you think this body swap happened?”

He hears Yanli’s muffled sobs next to him. Jiang Cheng sobs wretchedly before him.

All he had told the boy was to keep his children safe.

He’s all Jiang Fengmian has left of Wei Changze…

“I must go for him,” he says quietly. He pushes himself to his knees with unsteady hands. He doesn’t even have his sword…

“You will do no such thing,” his wife hisses, sitting forward, her eyes flashing. She looks at Yanli and Jiang Cheng and her upper lip curls in disgust. “What are you two sniveling for? Stop this instant!”

“I will go with you, father,” Jiang Cheng says valiantly, wiping his face with his sleeves.

His wife turns sharply and slaps Jiang Cheng across the face.

“Yu Furan!” Jiang Fengmian admonishes.

She turns her sharp eyes to him. “He is a servant,” she says through gritted teeth, “You will not endanger yourself or my son for a servant.”

“But he saved you, mother,” Jiang Cheng pleads, “He saved all of us.”

“As he should,” his wife says coldly. “Your father took him off the street and treated him well above his station. There are servants who died in Lotus Pier that received a fraction of what that child got from us.”

“He’s not a servant,” Yanli cries, “you know he’s not. He’s no different than a brother to us.”

“I did not birth him,” Yu Furan sneers, “How can he be your brother.”

Jiang Fengmian moves to stand. His wife is free to think whatever she pleases. He never put it on her to love a child he brought back on his own volition. But…

But to leave Wei Wuxian to die in his stead at Lotus Pier feels too much like betraying Wei Changze.

“I want my child to be more than a servant,” Wei Changze had said before he left Lotus Pier, and Jiang Fengmian had thought that he had been honoring that wish all this time.

To hear his wife, speak of Wei Wuxian so lowly… It feels like all of Jiang Fengmian’s efforts were for naught.

“He is more than a servant,” he says, rising to his feet unsteadily. Jiang Cheng rushes up to steady him. “If only to retrieve his body – I must go.”

Yu Furan stands then and rushes to him. She pushes Jiang Cheng aside and pushes Jiang Fengmian back onto the ground.

“Why did you come back to Lotus Pier then?” she shouts, rage contorting her face. “If his survival was so dear to you – for what reason did you return to Lotus Pier!? You should have left me. You should have left me!”

He looks up at her wide eyed. In all their years together, not once has she ever struck him.

“You’re my wife,” he answers staltingly, “I could not leave you.”  

A shocked silence falls upon the hut. No one seems to be breathing.

A second passes, and another, and all of a sudden Yu Furan takes a loud shuddering breath and collapses to her knees in front of Jiang Fengmian.

“I’m your wife,” she says in a desperate, defeated voice, “and I’m asking you to forget that boy. Let it be enough that our family survived.”

Jiang Fengmian suddenly can’t seem to recognize the woman in front of him. Never in his life has he heard his wife sound like this. Never in all their years together has she looked so… weak in front of him.

“I am your wife,” she says again, her voice stronger this time. She raises her head to look at him. “Do you understand how humiliating it is to have to ask you to choose me over that boy? Over the son of past love?” She shakes her head, her lips lifting in a sneer. “I am your wife.” She turns to look at Jiang Cheng. “I am your mother. And you will not leave this hut unless it is over my dead body.”

Yanli sobs desolately beside him.

Jiang Cheng stares at his mother in shock before nodding numbly and sliding down to the floor. He sobs wretchedly into his hands.

Jiang Fengmian looks at the woman in front of him. The mother of his children. The woman he agreed to marry because he foolishly thought it might arise some feeling from Wei Changze.

Maybe, he thinks faintly, he’s destined to take everyone who loves him for granted.

The woman he married out of spite. He never thought she might love him. But…

She prepares medicine for him. Her weapon recognized him. She defended their home, fully prepared to die alone – never imagining that he might come for her.

His wife.

They stay in the hut.

[seyaryminamoto]

I'm just thinking about what you've said in the past about Zuko's morals in The Southern Raiders and what bugs me the most is that Zuko could have easily been Yon Rha. Yon Rha's big sin, as far as Zuko knows when he makes his proposal (before Katara tells him the whole story), was raiding the Southern Water Tribe in a manner which lead to someone's death, and Zuko raided both Kyoshi Island and the Southern Water Tribe. Zuko would be an acceptable target for vengeance under his own standards.

:'D very fair point of view, Anon. I've always focused on another angle with this particular problem, namely the fact that Zuko's traumatic Agni Kai happens because he was trying to defend soldiers from being used as bait, slain in battle as though their lives were meaningless... and then he's offering Katara his assistance with killing a soldier if that's the only way to become her friend. There's such a profound incompatibility between both ideas, such a massive rift in reasoning, that I can't help but wonder if Ozai, intentionally or not, actually taught Zuko through their Agni Kai that the lives of their people aren't worth anything after all.

In general, that episode's plot is just... very questionable. I understand these kids are jaded, they've seen pleeenty of ugly stuff and even done some ugly stuff themselves, but the core of the problem with Zuko, back in the day, was that his violent pursuit of the Avatar caused lots of trouble and nobody liked him because he was being a selfish ass who wanted to fulfill the Fire Lord's orders at all costs :'D so... as blind as Katara may be over anything to do with Kya, it baffles me that neither Sokka nor Aang would step up to tell Zuko that this sort of ridiculous reasoning, impulsive behavior and willingness to resort to violence is EXACTLY what made him an asshole during the months he chased them, and that changing sides without changing those violent impulses doesn't amount to jackshit. I'd honestly prefer it if Katara were the one to tell him as much, because then she'd have the bonus of telling Zuko: "That's funny, because this sort of BS is precisely why I can't trust you!" and Zuko would be at an even bigger loss than before :'D but of course, when emotions are involved, Katara loses sight of reality and common sense, it's true...

Looking at it the way you do, just imagine if Yon Rha had told Katara "Oh. Sorry. Nice to see you again!" the way Zuko does with Suki :'D I'm pretty sure she would've actually killed the guy without even hesitating.

It's not to say that Zuko has objectively murdered anyone with the particular cruelty Yon Rha killed Kya: as far as we know, he didn't. We do know, however, that he's imprisoned people in nightmarish conditions (something even his sister cannot be said to have done), as he does in LOK, conditions bad enough that one of those prisoners (who, arguably, wasn't in the worst of conditions) said he'd rather die than return to that imprisonment. So, however "deserved" the Red Lotus's imprisonment might have been, dehydrating a waterbender and freezing a firebender for well over a decade sounds like one hell of an act of cruelty, which says he's perfectly capable of cruelty, all the same as Yon Rha was, and Zuko can't even say he's following someone's orders: he's the one who chooses to do this, plain and simple. So cruelty is NOT beyond Zuko. He can be harsh and nasty whenever it suits him. Despite what he'd have the audience believe, he isn't truly the poster child of peace and kindness :')

As you've said, Zuko caused lots of damage with his careless actions back in Book 1, actions that could have certainly cost lives if this show had been written to be grittier and darker than it was.

As a careless, casual example, here's the typical, boring old trope of "there's a kid in danger and the hero swoops in to save them!" (and there's poor Sokka on the background too ;_;). That ship just comes into shore, breaks all the ice it cares to, and it could have cost at least the two lives of those in the scene here (and who knows how many more that we aren't seeing). Is this not the same as attacking someone deliberately, with killer intent? Sure, it's not, but the ultimate outcome would be the same: someone's died, and it's your fault. And if you're a good person, you would feel bad about it. In fact, you might not even be able to think of yourself as a good person if anyone's death can be pinned on you.

Again, we don't know for sure that his actions cost any lives, but that they could have speaks for itself. That he was once part of the Fire Nation killer machine, that he was a tool to his father (even if not one he particularly cared for), should have made him all the more willing to understand that soldiers are as brainwashed as he was. No, this isn't to defend Yon Rha by any means, he was indeed a piece of shit... but Zuko doesn't even wait to meet him to confirm this. He's ready to help Katara kill a guy who, for all he knows, could have spent his whole life repenting for his actions (yes, we know that's not the case, but if the show had wanted to give us more nuance in the Fire Nation army, it could have been). Zuko doesn't even hesitate, and he even eggs on Katara until she finally decides she's not going to do it -- then he proceeds to badger Aang non-stop about how he MUST kill Ozai, funny how that goes. Which allows the interpretation that Zuko didn't learn anything at all from the Southern Raiders adventure.

In the end, if Zuko's actions cost any lives whatsoever (like, I don't know, maybe lives of the people whose food he stole in the Earth Kingdom (: what, me still being salty about this in the year of 2021? Noooo waaaaay...), you're quite right to say that it'd be fine, as far as his own philosophies are concerned, for Zuko to be executed by the injured party. It'd only be fair, right? Yet I guess that's the beauty of Zuko being Zuko: fairness isn't part of it. Justice? I don't think he's actually familiar with the concept. His sister made lots of mistakes, same as he did, but has he attempted to help her find her way, same as he was helped? Has he given her another chance? The answer is nope. Chit Sang is a convicted murderer who claims he didn't do the crime he was put in jail for: Zuko doesn't even bother asking any questions about who he is, or trying to get to the bottom of this problem. He's fine with getting the guy out of prison without first confirming whether his story checks out or not. Even back in The Blue Spirit, when he was "under" Ozai's thumb, and Ozai's priorities should have been his own, he decides that it's more important for him to capture Aang himself, and somehow the show spins that situation into "hey, Zuko's not that bad :>" when... everyone knows he's not setting him free out of any selflessness on his part, in fact, it's the entire opposite.

So yeah, more sketchy Zuko things that remain unresolved, unaddressed and go ignored all the time. Again, things that don't make much sense with the character he's supposed to be. And as usual, it's stuff we're supposed to shrug off or make a thousand excuses for in order to always find a way to see Zuko as a perfectly good person, when, as I've said before, being good takes efforts Zuko often didn't bother making, not before his "change of heart", not afterwards either.

[yamigooops]

Break My Heart

pairing: oikawa x gn!y/n genre: pure angst warnings: just angst really, I just wanted to write something sad lol words: ~2k

“Tell me you've never loved me Tell me that it wasn't real Just say you've found somebody else I wanna know the way it feels (Break my heart)” - Break My Heart by Hey Violet

a/n - time to break all your hearts, this had me tearing up while writing so hopefully it does the same to you so I'm not the only one hurting >:')

You were done, you’d had more than enough. You lay in bed, alone, for the fourth night in a row, waiting for your boyfriend of two and a half years to come home, and you were sick of it. Reaching over to turn on the light beside the bed, you picked up your phone to check the time. Almost 2 am. He should have been home an hour ago at the very latest.

With a huff, you threw the sheets off your body, sitting up. You rested your forehead in your hands, elbows braced against your knees. What else could you do? You’d told him so many times you’d lost track that he needed to try harder, that you needed more from him if this relationship was going to work. But he always brushed you off, assuring you that things would get better.

But they weren’t.

You sent a text to your best friend, knowing they’d be up at this time anyway, and asked if you could come to spend the night. You wanted him to know how it felt to go to fall asleep in an empty bed, just like you had done so often lately. Receiving an affirmative text from your friend, you rose and started to pack a bag for tomorrow.

Your mind raced. Did he even want to be in this relationship anymore? Did you? He had been putting in the minimum effort as of late, spending the vast majority of his time at training or going out with his friends and teammates. It seemed he had more time for everyone other than you, and you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You almost wanted him to end it, almost wanted to get in a fight about it just to have him show anything other than nonchalance about the situation.

You had been so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t heard him come in, unaware of his presence until he opened the bedroom door. “Y/N? What are you doing up so late?” The smooth silk of his voice shocked you in the silence of the room, making you whirl around to face him.

There he was, Oikawa, in all his glory. His tanned skin bore a sheen of sweat, and his chocolate hair was mussed, from the wind or something else you had no clue. He looked worn out, though that could have been from practice or going out to the club. You wouldn’t know, since this was the first you’d seen of him since he left this morning to go to practice.

You clutched the sweatshirt you were holding to your chest, subconsciously shrinking back from the tall man. You weren’t expecting him to come home until after you had left, now it would be all that much harder to leave. “Um, hi Oikawa,” you muttered, taking a deep breath. “I’m going over to Y/F/N’s place for the night.” You were surprised you got the words out, almost caving at the thought of getting to spend even a little time with your boyfriend, even if it was at two in the morning.

“Why would you do that?” He cocked his head, looking genuinely confused. A small pout formed on his features, and you could tell he was genuinely a bit upset about it.

“Well, I-“ you broke off, not knowing what to say. “We were talking, and they invited me over, and since you weren’t back yet I thought I would go,” you lied. You weren’t sure why you did though, the angry part of you said you should have just told him flat out that you were upset with him. But the peacemaker in you won out, unwilling to cause a fight where it wasn’t necessary.

“But it’s a weeknight, why wouldn’t you just wait until the weekend? Don’t you have work in the morning?” He set his gym bag down on the bed, unzipping it to remove his dirty clothes from practice.

You gulped, mind flying as you came up with a cover. “They, uh, they’re having a bit of a breakdown right now, I was going to go over help them calm down.” You resumed packing your bag, placing each article of clothing inside carefully as you felt his eyes on your back.

“C’mon,” he whined. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week, can’t you just stay? We can cuddle. Usually, you’re asleep by the time I get home, so I’ve been missing out.” The pout was back in full force as he came up behind you to snake his arms around your midriff. He placed a kiss on the back of your head before resting a cheek on your hair.

“Yeah, we’ve barely seen each other all week,” you reiterated, something igniting in your chest. “And whose fault would that be?” The words came out before you could stop them, sharp as knives.

He stiffened against you, arms loosening. “Y/N, I have practice every day but Sundays, you know that,” he replied, a bit defensively.

You pulled out of his grasp, picking up your bag and placing it on the bed. “Yeah, and what about when your practice is over? Hmm? Where do you go then? From 6 to 2 in the morning?” You couldn’t stop the anger from bubbling over, your chest burning with it. Now that you’ve started, you couldn’t stop yourself. “Are you just hanging out with your friends instead of your girlfriend? Are you going out to the clubs?” Your tone was pure venom as angry tears welled in your eyes. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you hissed out the last thought in your mind. “Are you seeing someone else?”

He gaped at you, lips parted and eyes wide as he comprehended what you had said. “Am I- what?!” His voice raised at the end in indignation. “You think I’m cheating on you? You think that’s the kind of man I am?”

“What else am I supposed to think when I’ve gone to bed alone for the last four nights in a row?” You cried, tears blurring your vision. “Torū, I’ve barely seen you at all this week, tell me you wouldn’t be suspicious too!”

He froze, eyebrows coming together slowly. “No, I don’t think I would be,” he defended. “I have quite a bit of faith in you, and it hurts me to know that you have so little in me.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word. You brought your hands up to press the heels into your eyes, hoping to do something to relieve the pressure building behind them.

“My point isn’t to call you a cheater, Torū, all I meant by that was that I have no idea what you’re out doing because you don’t talk to me!” Your voice grew thick with emotion, face growing flush as you raised your arms up to clasp your forearms above your head, eyes still screwed shut.

“Y/N, I’ve just been spending time with the team, that’s all,” he replied exasperatedly, and you heard the soft thump of his clothes falling into the hamper. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been spending enough time with you, but there are other important people in my life besides you!”

His words left you silent, and you opened your eyes to look at the ceiling, head tilting back slightly. The lump in your throat grew, making it unbearable to swallow back the tears that slipped from the corners of your eyes.

“If they’re all so important,” you whispered, “then maybe you don’t need me anymore.” You released your arms, letting them fall to your sides as you came to meet his gaze. The sight almost shattered your heart.

He looked at you like a lost child, mouth agape and hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Were those tears in his eyes? You couldn’t tell from the distance between you. He reached up to run a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. “So… what are you saying Y/N? Hmm? Because I’m not sure at this point,” he breathed, eyes meeting yours and filled with emotion.

You took a moment to get your thoughts in order before responding. “I guess what I’m saying is-” you hesitated, unsure if you should continue. Could you continue with this relationship? Were you happy with him anymore? “I want you to break my heart. It’s already on its last leg and I just need you to cut the last strings because I don’t think I can do it by myself.”

There was a look of pure agony in his eyes. His hands went limp at his sides, and his shoulders fell. “Y/N I-” His voice cracked with emotion. “I don’t think I can do that." He took a step toward you, then another, until he stood just a few inches away, looking like he wanted to wrap his arms around you but refraining. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

All you wanted was rest your head against his chest, cry into the soft fabric of his shirt and act like you were still in love with him. But you couldn’t, not anymore. “I was scared that if I talked to you about it, then that would make it real,” you whispered into the space between, eyes stuck on the collar of his shirt and unable to meet his.

There was a pause, silence overcoming the two of you and thickening the air around you. You could practically hear his brain working to come up with a response that wouldn’t kill you, and you almost broke and fell against him. But you didn’t, couldn’t.

“I don’t think I could ever bring myself to break your heart,” he murmured, words smooth and soft. “But if you need me to cut whatever ties you have left, I’ll do it, even though it kills me. Whatever you need, I’ll do, even if it means I have to lose you.”

It was then that you gathered the courage to meet his eyes, and the moment you did you regretted it. Tears slid down his angled face, shining in the soft light of the lamp. Your heart crumpled, nearly unable to handle the fact that you were doing this to him.

You allowed yourself to reach up and rest your hands on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” your thumbs ran beneath his eyes in a useless attempt to wipe away his sadness. “I never want to hurt you, but this just isn’t working anymore, and my heart can’t take it. I’m sorry.”

He leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, eyes shut, and lower lip drawn between his teeth. His hands came to rest lightly on your hips, fingers wrapping into the material of your shirt. “I know, I know,” he assured you softly. “Things haven’t been the best between us lately, I know that now, but still-” Your hands snaked around his neck, effectively pulling him closer. His lips came to press against your forehead, and the feeling almost made you melt into him. “I’ll always love you Y/N, but if you need me to cut ties, I’ll cut them.”

The feeling of his breath against your skin brought on a fresh wave of tears as you nodded. “Thank you, Torū,” you murmured, fingers running through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you for everything, I mean it.”

He sighed, pulling you against his chest as his arms encircled you fully. “I know, Y/N, you’re welcome.”

consider buying me a coffee for exclusive writing

[bokutoslittlebird]

Request : can I please request headcanons of alphas (sakusa😷/miya twins🦊🍙/hirugami🐶) taking care and reconciling with their anxious omegas after a fight? fluffy (paired) or angsty (not paired)? thank you so much!!!

Unless told differently... Hirugami Sachiro will be the Hirugami chosen when the last name is used (for future reference). There will be different kinds of fights, too! With different people for added flavor (atsumu’s is angsty)

Comforting an anxious Omega

Sakusa

> Your best friend is in love with you. Sakusa fell in love with you because you were a good friend of Komori's and always included him, being sure to mind your hygiene. Just the added effort to make him feel more welcome had blooming feelings for you since then. He knows your scent, he knows what you smell like around him and Komori. Suddenly, you smell different.

> You got in a fight? Without him? Even through his mask, he's able to easily pick up on your scent. When he smells you and knows you're anxious, he's confused why... until he smells another omega's scent on you. At first, he kind of freaks out because... he doesn't know why there's another omega's scent on you? unless it was a hug from a friend but you're like, really anxious.

> Explaining the situation to him, you collide in your best friend's arms and explain you got in a fight. Like, hands-on fight. He asks why but you don't go into detail. He doesn't push the matter, but the truth is he wants to know so badly. His own scent rubs off on you so you calm down, just a sweet scene of him scenting you in the courtyard while onlookers take pictures because Sakusa? HUGGING? Scenting?

> Eventually, you tell him the truth. Some bitch (the venom in your voice has him on alert) was talking shit about him. You defended him, but the omega proceeded to point out that you were only defending him because you were, uh, more than just friends with him because "Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn't have actual friends". Safe to say, he treated you to ice cream once you were calmed down enough and made a promise to himself to confess. Soon.

Atsumu

> He loves you and you love him, have so for three years. You're not together, why is that? Well, he happens to be very bad at flirting and you're as oblivious as a rock. Osamu and Suna have a bet going on to see who confesses first, it's kind of cute.

> Well, until Atsumu gets fed up with the fact you can't understand his affection. He goes to confess... but it doesn't turn out the way he wants it to. Instead of saying "I'm in love with you," he says : "If you weren't so stupid, maybe you'd understand how I feel!" and bro... the silence was deafening. As an omega, you happened to be more sensitive than others and you have thick skin (bc the Twins + Suna) but that hurt.

> Your anxiety seeps through and is noticeable before the tears and words come, which has Osamu and Aran springing into action. Atsumu panics because it's his fault, but your next words hurt worse than anything he could have ever said to himself. "To hear the person I'm in love with say that hurts. I'll leave."

> Kita makes him do extra in practice, while Aran comforts you and walks you home. Atsumu thought maybe you just left to go home, but no. You weren't just leaving the gym, you were leaving him. It's the closest he's got to a fight with you, but it's the only one.

Osamu

> Time-skip! Osamu has you working in his restaurant and you're so good at talking to customers! He's gotten regulars just because they like to have you serve them. He's proud of you and finds his admiration developing into something a bit more romantic, but he won't speak about that out loud. No, but it comes clear that he's a bit in love with you when a group of regulars come in.

> He's thankful for their money, but not them. They ask for you and always happen to make you uncomfortable. As an omega, the only omega in the shop, it happens to make things more tense that it should. Five alphas, leering at one omega who is just working tables to get a bit of money on the side while going to college? Even he finds himself wondering how you manage to do it.

> Your scent is always a bit anxious after dealing with them, but that's when you leave. This time, he can smell your anxiety from across the restaurant while you're taking their order. Deciding to not leave you hanging, he has one of the other employees work on the onigiri order he was making. As he gets closer, he understands why you're anxious.

> "Come on, little omega. It'll be fun, I promise. Just all of us hanging out, with a bit of alcohol to drink," the 'leader' of the group says. Large and broad, his entire personality screams alpha. Osamu, although no longer playing volleyball, is still pretty large and broad himself. When he comes up behind you, asking if you're okay and your scent suddenly gets more relaxed... the 'leader' starts an argument.

> Good thing Osamu's the owner, because there would have been calls made after his fist collided with the guy's nose. Your scream prevented him from doing anything else, but he did scare them away. His scent turns calming, enveloping your anxious scent as he tries to calm you down. It's not... it's not how he expected the day to go. But your whispered words of thanks has his chest puffing out, glad he could protect you.

Hirugami

> Another time-skip scenario. Once more, you're a colleague of his he finds to be quite alluring. Every animal loves you, it's like you were meant to do this. His dogs also love you, always wanting you to pet them and play with them. It's just meant to be, in his mind.

> It's a busy day and there are a lot of animals, yet he knows exactly where you are. A lot of betas work at the vet, so he can smell you and you can smell him. As soon as your scent enters his nose and he can tell you're anxious, he's immediately going from the back (where he was putting together some medicine for a client) to you, at the front desk.

> You're arguing with a woman, who happens to have a.. snake in her arms. The vet doesn't take care of snakes, only dogs and cats. Exotic vets take care of snakes, which is not what you two work at, so you're trying to explain that to the woman. The woman, obviously American, doesn't seem to understand that her pet cannot be taken care of here. Rather, she thinks you're denying her service.

> She's screaming at you and harassing you, making you anxious to defend yourself. However, her yelling and your anxiety has the animals in the building acting up, dogs barking and howling as they get restrained on their leashes. Hirugami finally enters the picture, immediately easing your stress as he explains to the woman the same thing you said, but she listens (sexism at it's finest). Once she leaves, you sink to your knees behind the counter as you try to calm yourself down, but Hirugami is there to scent you, calming you down as he whispers that you did nothing wrong and you'll be okay.

[caffeineghostie]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬' 𝐃𝐞𝐧 - [2]

Summary: They should have left you bleed out on the floor, because now you were in the wolves' den, and if you weren’t dead, they certainly were going to make you wish you were

Warnings: blood, description of wounds, brief mention of needles, natasha has a potty mouth, angst.

Characters: Bucky x Reader, Natasha Romanova

Word Count: 1068

A/N: hi everyone! thank you for the love you showed for the first part! Hope you enjoy this one! :) I'm on mobile so formatting is a pain, but I'll fix it from pc tomorrow after my exam!

MASTERLIST

Series Masterlist

Taglist

Feel free to message/ask me to be added to my taglist!

(gif not mine)

The heart monitor hooked to you was now frantically beeping, you tried to rip the IV from your arm, but it was too late. There was already a shadow lingering outside the door of your cell, the monitor must have alerted somebody that you were awake. But why would they save you? You certainly didn’t know.

They should have left you bleed out on the floor, because now you were in the wolves' den, and if you weren’t dead, they certainly were going to make you wish you were. 

The shadow that caught your attention was now approaching the door, and whoever was behind was now turning the knob.

Oh you were so done. They probably kept you alive enough to torture you for some sick reason or something like that. Well, you certainly weren't going down without a fight, at least for what your current shape permitted you. You had to get ready to defend yourself against the enemy.

With a hiss you extracted the IV from your arm and tried to detach yourself from the heart monitor, but the maze of clear plastic tubes were just getting more knotted as you tugged them.

The squeaking of the rusty metal door distracted you and raising your head, you were surprised by a shade of red hair you knew all too well. Natasha!

She quickly made her way into your cell-slash-hospital room, making sure to close the door behind her.

"Y/N! Thank God you're alive" she whispered, making her way towards you to assess the condition of your wounds, "You've seen it bad, huh? I thought I had lost you for a moment" her eyes wandered down remembering what had happened earlier.

"Hey, it's not your fault! you couldn't have known it was an ambush, and they were too many" you gently brushed her cheek to make her look st you, and you noticed that her fave was scattered with purple bruises and cuts, more than you remember from the fight.

"Nat, what happened to you? Are you okay?"

"Oh dont worry about it, they wanted to know some sensitive information, but they're idiots so, I've taken care of it" she giggled nervously, looking away from you, focusing your bandages. She looked worried.. something was definitely upsetting her, but before you could address it, she perked up  "which is why - we have to go, I don't yhink they will appreciate how we left our little chat"

Eyeing the ball of tubes sitting on your bed she exclaimed"we dont have time for this" and after taking out a knife from who knows where, she started cutting them up, finally freeing you.

"They might be idiots, but they have numbers, and I don't think you can fight in these conditions. Come on, let's go."

She passed one of your arms on her shoulders, sustaining you enough for you to stand, and like this you slowly made your way out of the room.

A question popped in your mind.

"Nat, what day is it?" you asked, looking up at her.

"I think it's Friday" she didn't look at you, too concentrated in finding a way out of this hell.

Friday? You had left for the mission on Tuesday, this meant that it had been three days since you went MIA. Why hadn't the team tried to contact you? Oh right, your transmitters were out of use.

With no news from you in so long, Bucky must have been worried sick. But you knew you were gonna see his stupid adorable face again.

While you were lost in your thoughts Natasha had stopped in the middle of a dark corridor. She looked up, pointing to a ventilation port on the ceiling.

"Well, it's not the best, but I can work with this" she said.

Leaving your side, she started removing the metal grate covering the passage, but it fell with a loud clank, slippery because of the humidity.

"Shit!" she cursed under her breath, "Now they definitely know where we are. We have to be quick." Sprinting, she made her way into the vent, disappearing for a moment, before peeking out again.

"Okay, Y/N, try to reach my hands, and I'll pick you up, so we can leave this shithole of a place behind us"

As if in cue, a stomping noise caught your attention.They had found you. Judging from the sound of boots running on concrete, they were at least a dozen.

"Standing on your tiptoes, you tried with all you could to reach Natasha's hands, they were so close, so close.

An excruciating pain flashed across your abdomen: your wound had opened up, and the stitches were digging in your flesh.

"Oh fuck!" you screamed in pain, clutching your stomach, trying to let the pain subside.

"Come on, Y/N/N, you can do it, just a little push. They're almost here!" Natasha was encouraging you from above, pushing her hands further.

You could hear the soldiers approaching, the thumping of their boots were mixing with that of your heart, they were right behind you and there was no time left.

Gritting your teeth, you pushed yourself to the limit, you could feel the cut in your guts stretching open with each movement. The fresh blood dripping from the bandage to the floor was making you slip, cancelling all your effort. With a shriek, you fell to the floor, defeated. It was too late now.

"Natasha, it's all useless. You have to get out of here!" you whispered "They don't know you're there, you can still escape" you looked up at her, motioning for her to go.

"I can't just leave you here!" she whispered back

"Yes you can, don't worry, I'll be fine. They saved me for a reason!". Well, you weren't totally sure but you were about to find out. "Go get the team" you said.

"We'll be back here soon" she promised.

"just... tell bucky i love him" you whispered for the last time, you couldn't let them hear you and find out that Natasha was there. She was your only hope now.

"You're gonna tell him yourself, I promise" she looked at you with eyes full of determination.

You found yourself surrounded by black boots and uniforms, heavy hands getting yourself on your feet, neglecting your winces of pain.

With one last look to the now empty ventilation port, you hoped Natasha and the team would be back quickly.

---------

hey everyone, hope you enjoyed this! What do you think will happen to our reader next? why was natasha so evasive, and why did hydra save reader?

the next part is probably going to be posted sometime between this and next week, as I'm currently at the beginning of exams season 🙃

Read Part 3 here

feel free to message/ask me to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @ginger-swag-rapunzel

[alfredosauce50]

Ghost of jealousy [Possessive! America x reader]

Wordcount: 5,545 Synopsis: Alfred gets upset when he finds you hanging around Mathias during his Halloween party. You tell him he’s your friend, but everything escalates into an argument, so he takes it outside to his car. He regrets everything he’s done, but you refuse to talk to him while he drives off to find some lodging for the night—an old inn. While you avoid him by staying in a separate room, it becomes apparent there’s something very off about this place. Something otherworldly. Will he make it up to you by saving you before something terrible happens? 

(I was inspired by this song by Michael Jackson, “Ghosts”) The reader is referred to as she/her.

It didn’t bother you that Alfred always disappeared during his parties. He was the host, after all, and you were merely another attendee, boyfriend or not. There were guests to interact with, excitement to arouse, and the general gist of event-running. So while he was off doing his business, you loitered around in the kitchen with one of your friends. You were dressed as a mermaid, with a seashell bra and all, while Mathias was in his pirate get-up.

Here away from the incessant pounding of Halloween classics and chatter, you could actually hear him talk. "I think it’s cute that we’re matching! Are you sure you didn’t wear this on purpose just so we could look like a couple?" He grinned, earning a small gasp from you.

"Hey! It’s not my problem you wear the same thing every year, Mathias. I—on the other hand, change it up." You gloated a little at that, giving his hip a light bump. He had been sipping a cup of punch, but spilled some as a result. "Ah! Jeez.” Because it was so dark, with only jack-o-lanterns and fairy lights to illuminate the house, you never even realized.

"What’s wrong?”

"Why don’t you smell my coat to find out?” He hummed mischievously. Cupping a hand around your head, he pulled you in and pressed your face against a mysterious wet patch.

"Ew! What was that?!" You pulled away and rubbed your cheek as he exploded into a fit of laughter.

"... Juice?"

"That’s right, min prinsesse. And it’s all your fault." Leaning in with his hands on his hips, he tapped your nose. A dash of guilt was present in your eyes, so he quickly added this. "Don’t look so stressed, (F/N)! I always forgive what you do to me. Mostly. This time, if you wanna make up for it, you’ll have to go to our after-party for once!"

You blinked. "After-party? You mean with just you and Lukas and everyone?" He nodded excitedly. The question was innocent enough, but really, you had another concern in the back of your mind. Every year, you and Alfred would spend a night together after the festivities. You could only imagine how upset he’d get if that didn’t happen. He always valued the time together with you, even to the point of being a little excessive. "Mm... I don’t know. Alfred and I usually do something afterward. I’ll ask him."

His wide grin faltered a touch. Alfred this, Alfred that. Mathias couldn’t exactly say he was jealous—though he’d joke about it, a lot—but wasn’t he a little controlling sometimes? "Mm, mm. Not good enough. I won’t take no for an answer!" Scooping you up in a bridal style carry, you let out a small yelp and reached out for his neck to stabilize yourself. "Let the King of Scandinavia save you from the evil clutches of American capitalism!"

"Mathias, you idiot!" You hissed through a flustered expression, but you couldn’t deny you were enjoying yourself. While he laughed away, bouncing you in his arms, you bonked him on the head numerous times. "Put. Me. Down!"

"Ow. Ah! Okay, okay, stop hitting me!" The Dane was as big of a goofball as your boyfriend, but just less serious most of the time. That was right. As your relationship with Alfred progressed, he was less easy-going than he initially seemed. More stubborn. Argumentative. And you never imagined how soon you would see this side of him.

"What’s this about saving (F/N) from the evil clutches of American capitalism?"

The chorus of you and Mathias’s laughter came to an abrupt end. Uh oh. Turning to the voice, you found yourself staring at none other than your boyfriend, dressed in a long orange coat with a Jason Vorhee's mask on the side of his head. And his arms were crossed with an unamused expression. Only then did you feel yourself get set down to the floor. Great. "Alfred, hey! We were just talking about his after-party. You know, the one where they have a lego-building contest?"

"Mhm. Sounds fun. But we’re doing something even better." Reaching out to your hand, he pulled you away from your friend, much to your displeasure. Mathias didn’t look all too happy either. Alfred then managed a small smile, but it was a little strained. "So c’mon, babe. Most of the party’s events are ending, anyway. Let’s go to my car." He squeezed you in his grip and turned to leave, all with you in tow.

But you weren’t having it. Couldn’t he at least let you explain yourself a little better, considering how upset he seemed already? You stopped, the action pulling on his arm so he would too. "Wait, Al. He asked if I wanted to go, and I kinda want to. Just this one time, please? Lukas, Berwald, Tino, and Emil are gonna be there too—" The fact that you were listing all these names only made it blatantly obvious who was in right, and who was in the wrong.

All you were asking for was some time with your friends. But he played the jealous boyfriend role all too well.

He turned to you with a frown. It was annoying enough to see Mathias carrying you like that. But going to a sleepover with him? He couldn’t be any less enthusiastic. "No, (F/N). Halloween is our thing. We’re supposed to spend the night together like we always do." Reaching out to your cheek, he caressed it gently. "You can hang out with them any other day of the year. Just not today."

Unlike other times, you didn’t give in. He already showed up with an attitude, so sweet-talking wasn’t going to cut it. Especially when you felt Mathias’s hand on your shoulder. The thought that he was behind you and trying to calm you down only egged you on to stand your ground. "Any other day? You’d have to exclude Valentine’s Day, Christmas, New Year’s, and St. Patty’s as well. I never get to celebrate them with my friends, either, so can’t you let me go this one time?"

The room fell silent. Even with the Dane’s friends present, nobody spoke a word. And nobody had to because they all shared one thought.

Alfred was being way too controlling.

Almost as if he could read their minds, he felt himself crumble under their scrutiny. "I’m not talking about this here with you." Without another word, he pulled you out of the house against your will.

"And why not? Is it because Mathias is here?" You retorted, feeling bile rise in your throat.

Once you and he disappeared out the door, Lukas made a brief comment.

"... He really has to stop doing that." 

“Yep. Man, I wish he’d just step on a lego." The blonde heaved out a sigh. 

"Fair enough."

Once Alfred managed to get you outside his car, he turned to you to finally give you an answer. "And what if it is because he’s there, (F/N)?" He exasperated, already feeling his tongue start slipping now that he was alone with you. And his words only held more impact against the deafening silence of the night. "The reason why I don’t want you hanging out with them on special occasions is cuz’ he’s in the group.”

“Why? Do you hate him or something? But that’s got nothing to do with me!" You ripped your hand from his grip to see his eyes widen with shock. This was the first time you ever lashed out, so he could already feel the inklings of regret well in his chest. He should’ve just shut his trap and let you go.

But something told him he would’ve never let that happen.

"They’re my friends, Alfred! You can’t expect me to pass on every invite they give me just because you don’t like someone!"

He dug his hands through his sandy locks of hair stressfully. 

"That’s the thing! Mathias obviously doesn’t just wanna be friends with you! He likes you, I can tell!" He yelled. 

The cat was finally out of the bag now. What had been plaguing his mind for months was this—competition. And he hoped that admitting it would somehow get you to understand his behavior, no matter how uncalled for it had been.

But you didn’t. You refused to.

Your jaw dropped, but not out of surprise. Instead, it was pure disappointment. "Even if he did, are you saying you don’t trust me with him?" You scoffed, folding your arms at him.

At this point, Alfred knew how bad he fucked up.

"No, that’s not what I—" His brows knitted together, and his cerulean blue eyes welled with moisture. "I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just..." But it was.

Wasn’t it?

Otherwise, why else was he so possessive of you?

"It’s exactly what you meant. If it wasn’t, you’d be defending yourself by now." A small smile curled up at your lips, and it was from anything but mirth. It was your defense mechanism to keep the waterworks at bay, but even that had failed you. The tears finally came spilling over the rim, streaming down your face as he watched on with guilt.

"Even if you hate him, he’s not what you think he is. It wouldn’t matter if he loved me. He wouldn’t do anything because he respects me." Reaching up to your eyes, you rubbed them, but the effort was in vain as you let out a sob. "If you’re so quick to doubt me, then maybe..." You struggled to string together the words as you continued to cry. "Maybe we shouldn’t..."

Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore. 

Alfred froze. Anything but that. And yet, you had all the right in the world to think of ending things. But his heart couldn’t take it.

"No, no, no... Don’t you finish that sentence..." You would probably hate him after this, but kissing you was what he first thought of. The connection between his and your lips managed to silence you, and the close proximity let you feel the waves of heat radiating from his face. And he continued to kiss you, gently, for as long as you let him until you decided to shove him away.

"Don’t." You whispered faintly, albeit firmly. Leaving his side to get into the passenger seat of his car, you buckled yourself up and turned to the window.

He breathed out a sigh, but joined you in the driver’s seat. Facing you with remorse so deep, it made his eyes droop. "You know I love you, right?"

You were still crying, and you never spared him so little as a single glance.

He royally screwed up, for sure. 

The engine purred to life. Now, to find a place to stay for the night. Hopefully, he could make up with you before lights out. But his gut told him it wouldn’t be so simple. The car began to move, crushing sticks and leaves under the wheels as he drove on a dirt path deep in the woods. He picked this cabin for the ominous ambiance, but he was beginning to regret his choices. The same could be said for everything he did tonight, hell, the same could be said for how he acted all these months.

He was the jealous, insecure, shitty boyfriend.

And the whole time, he never realized how kind you were to put up with him.

He wanted to tell you he trusted you. To pull you into his arms and apologize a million times. But what could he say to convince you when he’d come off as a liar? Even he didn’t know if he could be honest. Why did Mathias’s presence get him to feel like this, anyway? He boiled it down to how similar he was to him. Like you always said, he and Mathias were two of the same person. Loud, fun, and obnoxious sweethearts. So of course he started comparing himself to him.

And he was doing it right now. He couldn’t imagine Mathias ever having these kinds of problems if he dated you. Fuck. Aside from self-loathing and bitter regret, he was beginning to feel the beginnings of ugly jealousy all over again.

Are you serious right now, Alfred? He thought. 

Narrowing his eyes on the road that seemed to disappear, he slowed to a stop. Was it just him losing concentration over these thoughts, or did he really lose his way? Perhaps. But at least he found something. He peered around his windshield to see a few rooftops resembling an old, vintage villa in the distance. Could that possibly be a motel?

He sped up and drove closer and closer until he reached a clearing. Climbing out of his car with you trailing close behind, he made his way to the entrance of the establishment. There was an open lawn in front of the building, and in one of the gardens stood a wooden sign with "The Aura Inn" inscribed into it. Neither of you thought much of it, let alone read the little sub-paragraph of text below it.

"Let’s go." Looking at you over his shoulder, he held out a hand for you to take. You just brushed past him and kept walking. Right. He forgot for a second that you were mad at him.

The only thing that concerned you was having somewhere to stay the night, so the reception was the first stop. Making up with him could come later.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by nothing but an empty room. There was no furniture besides a wooden counter, and even then, it was lacking quite a few amenities. There was no receptionist here either, and yet, the lights were on. That could only mean one thing. Somebody was here, just not in a way you liked. But you were just overthinking, weren’t you? Needless to say, this inn was starting to feel a little off to you.

Gripping the scales of your mermaid dress, you turned to Alfred with a nervous glance. Immediately, he responded with a reassuring smile.

"You okay, babe?"

Hold on. Did he just call you babe? Your mood went sour when you felt yourself nearly give in to him. What he did couldn’t be forgiven so easily, otherwise, how could he take your feelings seriously? So you forced yourself to lie.

"Yes." You murmured. "I’m perfectly fine."

He knew you were lying, but he couldn’t blame you.

"Okay. I’ll just... Get us a room. I think this is an Airbnb." He pulled out his phone.

The thought of sleeping in the same bed as him irked you, to say the least. After the stunt he pulled today, which effectively stopped you from going to Mathias’s after-party, you needed some space. That was right. How come after all these years, you’ve never been to one of his infamous after-parties? Even though you were a close friend of his? It was simple. Because Alfred never let you go. God, thinking about it just made you relive the anger all over again. 

So before he finished the booking, you reached out for his arm.

"Wait. I don’t want to be in the same room as you."

He paused, and you saw sadness flash in his eyes. And once again, you found yourself tempted to cave. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

"... Oh. Sure." Alfred finished with the online forms and walked you to your room. The halls were long, winding, and dimly-lit. You would’ve thanked him for accompanying you in this unsettling place, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Once you managed to open the door, which wasn’t locked, he gave you a reluctant goodbye. Resting his arms against the doorframe, he gazed down at you with a bittersweet smile. "Night, babe. I’ll see you in the morning—"

The door slammed in his face and he cringed.

"... Love you too." He murmured, clenching his fists against the door. This was by far the worst argument he’s ever had with you, and it was all his fault.

Pressing your back against the door, you felt blood rush up to your face after hearing what he said. He nearly had you. But you managed to seal yourself away in the safety of your room. It hurt to push him away, but you had to. He couldn’t keep having his way. Alfred needed to accept the consequences of his actions, and you needed to be strong enough for that to happen. 

And plus, he needed to get used to not having you around him all the time. But the boy was excessively clingy, and you let this carry on for far too long. 

Unpacking your things on the bed, you got your things ready for a shower. As you melted into the hot embrace of the water, your concerns of this inn melted away too. It was just Halloween jitters, wasn’t it? Turning off the faucet, you dried yourself off with a towel before getting dressed. When you exited the bathroom, your room was plunged into almost pitch-black darkness. But you never turned off the lights.

Perhaps this was an energy-saving function. 

Well, it saved you from the effort of going to the light switch, anyhow. 

Before you moved from your spot, you shuddered at the feeling of a cold draft blowing against your body. Looking over to the source, you were shocked to see that the door was wide open, letting the dim halls stare back at you. 

There was probably a little wind tonight, and somehow, you didn’t shut the door properly. Making your way to close it again, you made sure you heard a little click. When you did, you didn’t feel any wind from outside at all, not even a gentle breeze. 

Weird. 

Setting your things down on the bedside table, you climbed into bed and tucked yourself in. While you made yourself comfortable, you faced the entirety of the room, which had a small wall-mounted TV, rocking chair, and desk. Of course there was a rocking chair. And you somehow couldn’t tear your gaze away from its faint outline in the dark. 

Then, it began to rock. 

Forwards and backward as if an invisible entity was sitting in it. 

“!” Your blood ran cold and you buried your head underneath the blanket. Something was in the room with you. Unlike before, you couldn’t blame it on the wind because you just closed the door. As you came to terms with that reality, the icy hands of fear gripped around your heart. Your breathing grew ragged and uneven. There was something behind you. Someone behind you. 

You could practically feel their presence creeping towards you. Closer and closer to your bed as the carpet compressed under its footsteps. Your chest constricted when you felt the bed dip under a weight. 

Then, it began to crawl. 

But you were too terrified to scream, let alone move. 

In that moment, you never regretted your decisions this much in your life. And you never wished more for Alfred to be with you.  

Unbeknownst to him as he finished up with his own shower in his room, you were left paralyzed in bed. If he’d known what was happening, he would have run to you as fast as he could. But he didn’t. He only assumed you were busy brooding over him, and maybe even second-guessing your relationship with him. The thought was reasonable, and that upset him to no end. Throwing his towel to a random spot in the room, he fell on his back onto the bed. 

Reaching out to the ceiling to stare at his arm, he sighed. 

“I’m so sorry...” He murmured, lowering his hands to cover his face with them.

If he was lucky, he’d be able to make up with you by the end of tomorrow. But for now, he was burdened with uncertainty. But his attention was quickly diverted to something else. A laugh. Your laugh. Sitting up with visible confusion, he listened in to the muffled sounds of your voice down the hall. 

The walls here were thin, so it didn’t surprise him he could hear you so clearly. 

But what did was what he heard next. Another voice talking, and it belonged to a boy. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he registered it as someone he knew. Mathias. Wait a second, what the hell was he doing here? But there was no way he could be, right? Didn’t he have an after-party to be at? The longer he eavesdropped on the conversation, the more obvious it became that it was Mathias. And they were talking about him. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come this year. Again. But you know how Alfred gets.”

“Yeah... Don’t worry about it. This can be our own little after-party. Just as long as he doesn’t find out, you’ll be fine!” 

Wait, what? 

From what he heard, it sounded like you really had moved on. But you never had the decency to tell him, and that was what filled him to the brim with betrayal--it broke his heart. Was this why you wanted to be in a separate room tonight? Sliding himself off the bed, he stormed out the door to find you. His glasses were already fogging up, but he never bothered to clear them as he marched down the empty halls. 

Your voices grew louder and louder, all until he came to a stop outside a room he never booked. That was right. He applied for one with a single bed. He could only imagine what you were doing with Mathias in a room with a double bed. 

The laughing continued behind the door. 

“You know these walls are thin, right?” He began lowly. Swinging open the door, the noises disappeared along with the people inside. The room was completely dark, and when he flicked on the lights, you and Mathias were nowhere in sight. Not a soul was in here. 

“... What the fuck.” He grumbled.

He swore he heard you both giggling away like school children. Did you two hear him coming and hide somewhere? He was skeptical, but he checked around nonetheless. In the wardrobe, then under the bed. There was no sign of either of you. The shower, maybe? Stepping into the bathroom and pulling open the curtains, he was prepared to catch you red-handed. But there was nothing there except for a porcelain white tub.  A defeated sigh fell from his lips. What the hell was going on? Alfred was completely sober, a miracle considering he usually drank at his parties. So he had a terrible feeling he wasn’t just hearing things. That only pointed towards one explanation. 

This inn was totally haunted. 

And whoever, or whatever that haunted it was toying with him.

He swallowed thickly and turned to the mirror, only to jump at what he saw. The reflection revealed a figure standing behind him. 

It was Mathias, except his face was twisted in a sick smile. 

“Holy shit--!” Alfred paled as he stared face to face with the entity. As he lost himself in its soulless, blue eyes, he was overcome with dread, almost as if the spirit was forcing fear into him. Reminding him of his failures, insecurities, and the uncertainty of his relationship. All of his faults flashed in his mind again and again so incessantly, he thought he would break down on the spot. 

Where is (F/N)? 

She doesn’t want you anymore. 

You should just give up. 

And the deeper in he spiraled into these self-destructive thoughts, the wider the entity smiled, its lips stretching to impossible lengths it became grotesque. Darting his wide eyes around the reflection in his bout of panic, he saw its hand reach out to his shoulder in the mirror. He didn’t know how he managed to do this, but he spun around quickly to defend himself. And there was nobody there.

In his brief moment of disorientation, the spirit shot out two arms, breaking the barrier of the glass. Tightening its hands around his neck, Alfred was pulled back against the mirror and choked. “Gh--!” His airway was completely constricted by the iron grip, and he was forced to struggle a few inches above the ground. 

Digging his fingernails into the hands, he never felt them loosen. 

So he did the unthinkable--he started to smash his fist against the mirror. It hurt like hell and left his knuckles bruised and raw, but the thought of you in danger kept him going. That was right. There was no saying if you weren’t being choked, attacked, or worst. Punching the glass again and again, it finally shattered, and the grip around his neck loosened. 

The mirror was reduced to shards and fell into the sink.

Falling to the ground in a loud thump, he stood up while coughing violently. 

The arms disappeared, and so did the entity. 

And Alfred had a feeling it had to do with the mirror it was in. 

Leaving the bathroom with heavy breaths, he ran back to his room and picked up his chainsaw. Halloween had the perks of carrying around dangerous tools, and he was never this glad that he took it with him instead of leaving it in his car unattended. Too bad he was out of costume, though. But a white tank and boxers would do. Holding it above his chest, he revved his chainsaw and ran out the door. 

It was time to fuck shit up. 

You were still stuck in bed, but the spirit managed to remove your blanket. A soft whimper fell from your lips as your only form of protection was stripped away. If you thought you were terrified, then you would prove yourself wrong with a whole new level of fear as two arms wrapped around your neck from behind. No way. Was it going to choke you? One of its legs was thrown over yours, so you were completely enveloped by its limbs. 

As you trembled away in the dark, you let out a soft cry when you felt its warm breath tickle your ear. 

“I missed you. Why didn’t you wanna stay in a room with me?” It cooed, the voice sending shivers down your spine. It sounded strangely similar to Alfred’s, and what he said was exactly what he would’ve said too, except it wasn’t him. You never saw him come in, and the last time you checked, he wasn’t invisible. 

“... W-What... What are you?” You stammered, feeling a hand glide down your bare thigh. “Stop--” 

“I’m his desire, sweetheart.” It began in a low and alluring voice. “Every feeling in the Aura inn festers into a semi-physical form. That’s why I’m here right now. Because he wants you.” 

You screwed your eyes shut. Just what the hell kind of place was this inn? A magical hut that personified emotions? “... Can you please let me go? I don’t like the way how you’re... Hugging me.” You pleaded, only to feel the entity tighten itself around you. 

“But I don’t want to. He doesn’t want to.” It responded with a hum. “I reflect everything he wants. And currently, he wants to see you more than anything. Especially when he’s dealing with jealousy... And having a hard time at that.” 

“Jealousy?” It wasn’t shocking, per se, but he had you curious. If desire festered into a sultry form of someone and hugged their object of affections, what did jealousy turn into?  “... I knew he was jealous of Mathias. But that’s not the problem here. We’ll sort it out later. If you’re desire, then what’s jealousy like?” 

It let out a deep, foreboding laugh. “Depends. If it’s only a little bit of envy, he’ll start hearing things that hit his nerves. Nothing but... Harmless fun.” You felt yourself get rolled onto your back, and you were caught off guard by what loomed over you. It was Alfred himself, or more accurately put, his personified desire, but this time, you could see him. “But if his jealousy gets mixed in with insecurity, that’s when things get pretty ugly...” 

You furrowed your brows with concern. “Ugly? How so? Is he gonna be okay?” 

It craned his head from side to side. “Who knows.” 

“But I’ll tell you a few things that I do know. Jealousy tends to be pretty sneaky. It’ll snoop around in mirrors and attack him.” You tensed up all over. “So Alfred will have to smash every mirror in the inn to get it to come out. And when it does, all he needs to do is be with you to send it away.”

Loud chainsaw noises were heard down the halls, silencing both you and the entity. Following that was the shattering of glass. 

“... Hm. Looks like he already figured it out.” 

Joy filled you to the brim and you smiled wide. “He really did! I’m so glad!” Reaching out to hug the entity around its chest, you pulled away and slid yourself off the bed. 

“Thank you, um, Alfred’s desire! I’m gonna go find him now!” 

He laid on his side and watched you run off. “You can just call me Alfred.” 

“Okay, Alfred!” 

While you exited the room to stand in the halls, you found yourself staring at a number of doors that were wide open, and the lights on inside. You assumed those were the rooms he already cleared, which meant he still had quite a bit to do. But he was fast. Appearing out of one room, he continued tearing down door after door to smash every single mirror and window in the inn. And soon, he managed to reduce every piece of glass present into shards. 

Once the chainsaw revs came to a stop, you called out his name. 

“Alfred!” 

He jerked up at the sound, then glanced around. “(F/N)!?” While he was on the first floor in the courtyard, you were on the second in the mezzanine, so he had to glance up to see you. “Oh God, I was so worried! Are you okay?” He shouted. 

“Yes!” You called back. “This place is... Super haunted. Let’s get out of here!”

“You called it. I nearly got murdered!” 

Running down the stairs to meet with him, you practically jumped onto him after he dropped his chainsaw to the ground. Embracing you with his strong arms, he pressed kiss after kiss all over your face. While he did, you spotted another figure standing by the stairs. Was that Mathias? You couldn’t take a better look at him before he disappeared into thin air. “Oh my fucking god. I missed you so much.” He exasperated, setting you down on your feet. “You won’t believe what happened. I’ll explain everything in the car.”

As he led you out of the Godforsaken inn, he gripped you tight with his hand. And you squeezed right back. “Let me guess. You were attacked by something in the mirror so you shattered every single one here. I know.” 

At this point, you and him had arrived outside his car.

Turning to you with shock, he placed his hands on his hips. 

“And how the hell did you know? I thought it was original enough that you wouldn’t be able to guess!” He exclaimed, much to your amusement. 

“Mm... Not really. With how many horror movies you’ve watched, I wouldn’t put it past you to come up with a solution like that.” Giving him an affectionate pinch on the cheek, he rubbed the spot with a light pout. You considered telling him the truth, but you already wanted to forget tonight. If he didn’t know about it, then moving on yourself would be so much easier. 

“Now, I think you have some apologizing to do.” 

He softened his gaze. “Yeah... I really do. Sorry for everything. Sorry for being a dick. And not just... For today.” Pulling you into another hug, he nestled his chin into your shoulder. God, did it feel good to have you in his arms again. “I’m gonna be real. I never hated Mathias. He’s my friend. But seeing him with you gets me... Really jealous. And it’s not cuz’ I don’t trust you, it’s because I’m...” His cheeks grew rosy. “I don’t know. I just feel...”

You knew he’d get stuck at this part, so you helped him. 

“Because you feel insecure?” 

“... Yeah.” 

“You idiot...” A soft, content sigh was heard from your end. “It doesn’t matter how similar you are to him. You don’t have to try to make any changes or keep him away from me for me to choose you.” 

His heart fluttered as he released you with a sheepish smile. 

“I really needed to hear that. So, thanks.” Alfred murmured, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Kinda lame of me to put you through that. I should’ve just talked it out with you.” 

“Yeah, you dumbass.” You grumbled, but it was on an affectionate note. 

“So, do you think we’ll make it in time to the party for me to carpool with Mathias back to his place? I wanna see what they’re building this year!”

He frowned, but his expression was short-lived as a smile began creeping onto his lips. “Are you serious right now?” 

“I’m kidding!” 

🎶 Tell me, are you the ghost of jealousy?

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

[squishneedsahero]

Healing Wounds

The Lost Padawan

Part 8 of ?

Word Count: 2122

You were raised in the Jedi order, Padawan of Jedi Master Obiwan Kenobi.

A/N: btw comments are the thing that gives me motivation to continue these stories so anything is appreciated <3

"Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit-" is the only thing echoing through your mind as you run through the abandoned star destroyer. You'd all been a tad bit late to the party and Wrecker's chip had taken over. He was the reason you were currently running, and now ducking from blaster bolts.

He had targeted you, since the Jedi were the clone's main priority to eliminate. You'd taken off, but didn't want to get so far ahead that he turned his attention to the others. So staying in sight but dodging open fire wasn't something you were excited about. Lightsaber whirling through the air as you duck and cover and dodge and block all the blaster bolts he was eagerly firing, luckily his name was Wrecker and not Crosshair or you'd have been dead by now.

In all honesty you were functioning and fending for your life but trying so hard not to go into a full blown panic attack. Your friend trying to gun you down, while you hadn't personally experienced it you'd been a witness. Every night when you closed your eyes had only brought visions of Cody shooting down Obi Wan, and your many other friends whom you considered family. Only an hour ago you'd dove into murky water to save Wrecker's life and here he was now trying to kill you. It wasn't his fault but it still hurts.

You're brought back from these thoughts as Wrecker shouts behind you, something about you not getting away. You can hear the others shouting, further away but still there as they tried to defend you. You didn't need them dying for you though, so you tried to keep Wrecker's attention.

"Hey-" your voice cracks. You start again, "hey! You can't catch me Wrecker! I'm a Jedi and I'm still alive, you're disobeying orders!" You taunt him, finally gaining some small sense of stability as you duck behind a crate.

You hear him growl and his booming footsteps growing closer. You couldn't take him if he got ahold of you, you knew that much. He'd fought a Rancor and won, you were basically just a kid. Sure a battle hardened veteran, knowing nothing but war your entire childhood, except for when it was kind of just tense, but still you were a kid.

You glance around you as his footsteps grow closer, there's a vent above you. You know for a fact you can fit inside, you'd hidden in them plenty of times. You use the force to pull the cover off and send it flying towards Wrecker.

As you leap up into the vent you hear a solid thud and grunt before the metal clangs to the floor. You then hear another angry shout, you'd definitely hit Wrecker. From inside the vent you crawl back the way you had come, being sure to clang around and make some noise to keep his attention. A few blaster bolts firing through the ceiling and up at you in the vent tells you that you do indeed have his attention.

Your heart is in your throat, your throat is closing up from anxiety and you can hardly breathe, you can't keep this up for much longer and you know it. The tears you've been holding back for weeks are welling in your eyes and you know once you break there will be no stopping it. You'd be too broken to defend yourself for a hot minute while you got ahold of yourself and your emotions once again.

You crawl another 30 feet, dodging the blaster bolts, except for one that grazes your leg but you're feeling so numb to everything you hardly feel it. Once you crawl another 2 feet you realize everything has stoped, Wrecker falls silent, the shooting stops and the others stop their shouting. You allow yourself to collapse to the vent floor and just lay there on the cold metal, taking heaving breaths and trying to get ahold of yourself.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" from the tone you can tell Hunter asking you this.

You take another breath before speaking, hoping to keep your voice from cracking again, "yeah I'm alright. I'm-" you pause in thought, "I'm going to stay up here a minute... at least until Wrecker's alright."

You hear some whispers before he responds, "alright." If you'd cared you would have gone and tried to hear the whispers but you didn't care at that moment. Let them say what they need too, you needed to pause even for the slightest of moments in a vent on a star destroyer, somewhere you felt protected enough to let your masks fall and the emotional dam to break.

You listen to their heavy footsteps move away, carrying Wrecker back to the medical bay, then it happens. Everything you'd been holding in comes falling out. A tear for master Obi Wan, a tear for Cody, a tear for what Cody had done to Obi Wan, a tear for each of the clones you'd been close too, and a tear for the life you had lost. The only thing you'd known and now it was gone and it was slowly setting in that you'd never be getting that back even if you still spent all your time with a different group of clones. Once the tears start you cannot stop, you stay right there on the cold, growing warm metal, creating your own little pity puddle, a puddle of your tears.

~~~~~

"... at least until Wrecker's alright."

Hunter goes to respond but Rex places a gentle hand on his shoulder first and shakes his head, before responding for Hunter, "alright," and you couldn't tell the difference, one of the few perks of being a clone. The two then get Wrecker up and with a nod for Omega, who'd saved the day, to follow they carry their brother to the med bay and get him in the machine to begin the surgery that would hopefully work. The surgery that hopefully wouldn't kill him.

Once Wrecker is settled Hunter turns to Rex and asks, "why'd you leave them there?"

Rex shakes his head gently, but responds, "I served around them enough to know despite their training that they need some time to themselves."

Hunter lets that sink in for a moment before nodding, he trusted Rex on this, he had hardly spent any time around the Jedi, usually their team worked alone. He didn't know enough to dispute the idea that you just needed some time. Sure, you were probably close to the same age as the Clones were, but they aged much faster than you did. You'd had as many years experience as they did, but you were still mentally and physically a child. Order 66 and all the aftermath had to have hit you harder than you let on, but Wrecker going after you had been your breaking point.

Omega is worried about you, but to her you seemed invincible always ready to face danger and sacrifice yourself for your friends. For Omega, Wrecker is the priority of her worry, she stays by his side knowing how dangerous this procedure is to him, how he might not wake back up despite their best efforts. Finally the procedure is over and now they all wait on edge to see if their friend would wake up. After what feels like forever he does, he finally wakes up and the first thing Omega does  is hug him, throwing her arms around his neck as she lets out a breath of relief.

Wrecker apologizes to her, as he'd gone after her at one point, then looks up and asks, "how- how's y/n?" Sure, he remembered some stuff but you'd been in the vents, what if he'd hit you with a lucky shot? He could hardly bear the thought that he'd hurt or killed you. He quite liked you, you weren't stuck up like other Jedi, you fit in with their little family perfectly and if he'd hurt you even on accident-

He's pulled out of his thoughts by Omega answering, "y/n is still in the vent, they weren't ready to come out yet. I'm sure as soon as they're ready they'll be glad to know you're back to yourself."

That isn't the answer Wrecker wanted but his head was aching and the world was spinning so he couldn't go find you at the moment, he had to just lay back down. From there the next person is prepped for the surgery and they begin moving, going to get everyone fixed up before anything else could happen.

As soon as everyone is distracted and paying attention to the preparations being made, Omega makes her move, Hunter was fine, so now she needed to make sure you were fine. Whether you liked it or not she'd made you part of their little family, you were her sibling too, she had all her older brothers, and you.

"Y/n?" Omega's soft voice sounds below you, "can I come up?"

You don't get much of a chance to answer as next thing you know the vent in front of you opens up, and Omega crawls in. Fuck. She was also small enough to fit in the vents. "Uh," you quickly wipe your face and try to dry the puddle where your head had been, "hey- hey Omega, what's up?"

"Wrecker woke up, he's okay... I thought you should know." She settles in place, laying on her stomach and facing you, obviously not leaving.

You offer a slight smile, "okay, thanks..." you trail off not really sure what you should say, and not really in the mood to talk.

Omega obviously picks up on this since, despite being somewhat secluded all her life, she was inteligent and could somewhat read emotions despite not picking up on every little queue. "Are you alright? Wrecker didn't mean to-"

She stops as you look at her, you don't look harshly but you making eye contact once more is enough, "I know Omega. I don't blame him, it isn't his fault," you quietly say, "I don't blame him at all it's just-"

You pause wanting to backtrack, seeing the curiosity in her eyes as she innocently asks, "it's just what?"

You chew on the tip of your tongue for a moment before looking at her for a moment. It had been long enough. She was your sister. You needed to accept that you weren't a Jedi any more even if you were connected with the force. You didn't need to follow all those rules, you could accept that you cared and got attached to people. That you considered them family. And most importantly you could afford to show emotions.

You'd shown emotion anyways with Obi Wan, because you trusted him and you were only learning. You'd seen him show emotion on occasion. It's in this moment as you're facing your sister that you realize and accept the fact that you don't have to follow the Jedi code and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders.

You take a breath then say, "those chips caused me to loose everyone I was ever close too. You grew up on Kamino and never left there. That was all you knew. The Jedi Order was all that I knew," tears well up in your eyes once again but you don't try to hide them this time. "I lost all of that then to have it almost happen again, in a way, to have someone I consider a friend once again try to kill me? I just-" you take a shuddering breath as you try and ground yourself again, "the Jedi tell you to not show emotions or get attached to anyone, and I cannot help but do that, so loosing everyone, it hurt. But I've been trying to following those rules and it's just hard to change and stop it. I need to stop it if I'm going to be able to help all of you." You wipe your eyes and take another deep breath.

Omega smiles softly at you, "that makes sense, but we're family, you don't have to hold everything in."

You smile back, knowing she's trying her best to help, "yeah, it's just a matter of learning that... thanks Omega..." you pause before changing the subject, "you said that Wrecker's awake?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm sure he's worried about me, let's climb down and I'll go see him."

Once out of the vent the two of you share a hug and it's all alright, except for the wound where the blaster bolt had grazed you which you'd been numb too until you were on your feet. Fuck. It hurt, and you'd have to get it patched up, but first you needed to make sure Wrecker was patched up.

[malfoymanortings]

lavender and velvet //part one

SUMMARY: she had her fathers eyes, his aristocratic looks, her grandmothers spite, her mothers heart, but the one thing she didn't have was the love of her father that her god brother received. juliet black finally meets her father who has already decided who his child is.

PAIRINGS: to be decided.

quite frankly, this idea will not leave my head. juliet has begged me to write her story, so here we are. now, sirius is slightly out of character for this, as if he really did have a child i would like to think he would want to do better than the parents he had. but, thats just not what this imagining will look like. hopefully you guys like it! if, by chance, you would like to be added to a taglist for this story, let me know xx

“I want to meet him,” Juliet said quietly, looking down at her hands. “I deserve as much, don’t I?”

Remus paused. “Of course. I just… love, he isn’t-”

“I don’t have very high hopes for him,” interjected Juliet, scoffing slightly. “He’s been out for two years now. He hasn’t attempted to see me once.”

“Jules, you have to understand,” Remus placed a hand on her shoulder, his face seeming to age years within that moment. “It hasn’t been easy for him.”

“Right, ‘cause it’s been so easy for me.” she said the words under her breath, not wanting to fight with Remus again. 

They had been fighting far too much lately. The cause of it was her father. The man who had fathered her years ago before being locked up for a crime he didn’t commit. When he finally did get out, it took two years before he thought of seeing his daughter.

“It hasn’t been safe enough for him to see you,” Remus pressed on, crossing his arms behind his back. “With the ministry still believing he was responsible-”

“For the Potter’s murders, it was too risky for him to come see me until everything was settled with the order,” Juliet recited, rolling her eyes. “Yet he saw Harry third year, didn’t he?”

Remus sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Juliet. We are not having this discussion again.”

“Perfect, that means I can have it with him.” Juliet said decisively, walking over to the fireplace. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” Remus asked, pausing in his pacing. 

“What better time than the present?” 

“Well, Harry just got there-” Remus cut himself off, wincing as Juliet’s temper flared.

“Harry’s there, yet I can’t go meet my own fucking father?!” she yelled, fists clenched at her side. “Fuck this.”

Juliet turned, grabbing a fistfull of floo powder. She tossed it in, ignoring Remu’s protests, and spoke clearly.

“Grimmauld Place!”

She arrived in a flurry of green flames, with no one around. She could hear voices down the hall of the unfamiliar place, and she faltered in her step slightly. She felt out of place, although she shouldn’t. Her father lived here. This was her father’s house. 

It should have been her home.

A door opened somewhere, and footsteps sounded loudly through the hallway. Remus poked his head into the sitting room, where Juliet stood in front of the fireplace feeling rather out of place.

“Come on, then,” Remus motioned for her to follow, his tone kinder than it had been before.

“Professor Lupin!” Hermione came out of nowhere, Ginny following close behind. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Miss Granger,” Remus grinned, and Juliet was the only one to notice it was off. “Lovely to see you again.”

“Jules!” Ginny shouted, running towards her friend. Juliet opened her arms, engulfing the beautiful redhead in a hug.

“Hi love,” said Juliet into her hair, pulling back to examine her friend. “You’ve grown, haven’t you?”

Ginny gave her a funny look, laughing. “Juliet. It’s been a month since I saw you last. I doubt it’s possible I’ve grown since then.”

Juliet shrugged, looking past her to where she could hear more voices grow louder. Fred and George appeared then, twin grins on their faces as they hurried over to greet Juliet.

“There’s our favorite serpentine girl,” Fred grinned, ruffling her hair. “Good to see you.”

George slung an arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. Before pulling away, he put his lips near her ear. “Calm down darling, it’ll be fine. He’s in the kitchen with Harry and mum.”

Juliet nodded, giving him a quick squeeze back. George and Fred were well aware of Sirius being her father. She had confided in them on more occasions than one. Those two and Ginny were her closest friends out of the Weasley family. 

Ron appeared next, Harry beside him. From behind the pair, came a man with her eyes and her smile.

Juliet took in a sharp breath as she examined the man she had hurt over all these years. He had shoulder length brown hair, wavy and streaked grey with age, and a neatly trimmed moustache. His cheeks were hollow, his features aristocratic like her own. He had tattoos peeking out from the edges of his buttoned shirt, and walked with a slight limp.

He was Sirius Black, the man who had only existed for her in photographs.

“Dad,” Juliet breathed, walking towards him. 

Sirius looked as though he had seen a ghost. He looked to Remus, and back to Juliet. He watched her as she walked forward until she stood in front of him, and he hadn’t moved. 

“That’s Juliet, pads,” Remus said from behind them. “Your daughter.”

“My daughter,” Sirius said, the words sounding foreign in his mouth. “Of course. You take after your mother in looks.”

“I’ve been told I’m a Black through and through.” replied Juliet, feeling a little awkward standing in front of him. She was waiting for a hug, for something, but nothing happened. He just stood there, staring at her.

“Well, hopefully not,” Sirius cleared his throat, forcing a chuckle. “The lot of them were dark wizards, straight from Slytherin house to the Death Eaters.”

Juliet felt her cheeks flame, and she felt deflated. “I’m in Slytherin.”

Sirius paused, clearing his throat again. “Erm, right. Harry mentioned that.”

She felt her anger grow again. She tried to fight it, but it bubbled over the lid she kept concealed in. “Of course you did. Instead of meeting me for yourself, you would rather hear second hand from Harry. God forbid you put effort into meeting your daughter.”

“Now, that’s not fair,” Sirius raised his hands, backing away from her. “It wasn’t safe for me to be out in the public yet- it still isn’t.”

“That didn’t stop you from sending letters to Harry though, did it?” Juliet bit out, balling her fists up and digging her nails into her palms. She was dimly aware of the others leaving the room, Remus and Harry the only two left behind.

“He needed me,” Sirius defended. “He had no one but those muggles, I’m his godfather-”

“You’re quite literally my father,” shouted Juliet, shaking her head. “I needed you too, and you were never there.”

“Juliet, that’s not fair,” Remus interjected, placing a hand on her shoulder. “He was in Azkaban, he wasn’t able to be there due to no fault of his own-”

“I know the story, Remus,” snapped Juliet, glaring at the man. “But when did he break out? When Harry’s safety was at risk. Not for me, not for you. Only for Harry. I apparently wasn’t worth the risk or the attempt.”

“Juliet, I-” Harry began, but she quickly cut him off. 

“Harry, stay out of this,” chastised Juliet, holding out a hand. “For once, this isn’t about you. This is about me.” she looked at Sirius, who merely looked back at her with a heavy look. “This is about what I did. What Molly did. What Remus did. What you didn’t.”

“Juliet, I’m sorry,” Sirius tried again, running a hand through his hair. “But Harry needs me now. You have all those people behind you, and he only has me. He’s got to deal with Voldemort. He needs someone to confide in.”

“Like a father,” scoffed Juliet, turning away from him. “Even though you’re supposed to be mine.”

“Juliet-” Remus was quickly cut off by Juliet.

“I want to go home.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Remus looked uncomfortable now, and gave her an apologetic glance. “You’ll be staying here for the remainder of summer. I have things to do for the Order, and it’s not safe for you to be unprotected at home any longer.”

“You’re fucking joking.”

“Language,” reprimanded Remus, once again looking older than his years. “I’ll pack your things and bring them here. Please… try to get along.”

Juliet raised her middle finger to Remus, turning back to Sirius. “So, do I get a room? Or are they all reserved for Harry?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “That’s no way to act. Of course you get a room.”

Juliet laughed at his words. She thought it was funny, how he had so easily cast her aside for Harry, and yet now seemed to be attempting to parent her. She refused to let him do so. It was all or nothing, and he had clearly chosen nothing.

“Kreacher,” Sirius called behind him, and with a crack a scraggly looking house elf appeared. “Show Juliet to her room.”

Kreacher gave Sirius a dirty look, glancing over at Juliet appraisingly. He grumbled to himself, only a few words audible.

“Kreacher will show master’s brat to her room… blood traitor… Gryffindor… filthy… mistresses house..”

“Without the commentary, you dirty thing.” Sirius rolled his eyes, turning away from the house elf. 

Kreacher glared at Sirius, before walking up the staircase. Juliet followed, not bothering to cast a backwards glance towards her father. It was obvious he had no interest in her. Why should she care, anyways? She had gone by fifteen years without him just fine. She would be just fine.

“Dirty Gryffindor..” Kreacher muttered, pointing a crooked finger towards an open door. “Sharing with the other dirty blood traitors, nasty Gryffindors.”

Juliet scoffed, crossing her arms. “Kreacher, is it? My name is Juliet. And, I’ll have you know I’m not a Gryffindor, I’m a Slytherin. The superior house, if you ask me.”

Kreacher paused at that, his mumbling ceasing. He once again eyed her appraisingly, this time without dislike. “Kreacher apologizes to Miss Juliet. She is not a dirty filthy Gryffindor like the rest of the brats..” again, the decrepit looking house elf trailed off in his thoughts, wandering down the hallway wringing his hands.

Juliet sighed, and stepped inside the room. She could tell from the items inside, that Hermione and Ginny already had claimed the two beds. 

“Kreacher?” Juliet called, poking her head out of the room. 

Kreacher turned, eyeing her again. “What does young mistress want?”

“Is there another room,” she paused. “Or another bed?” 

“Kreacher can make another bed for mistress,” Kreacher hobbled back over, stepping into the room. With a snap of his fingers, another bed appeared, identical to the others in the room. 

“Thank you.” 

Kreacher looked shocked at her words, and he nodded to her before wandering back down the hall. 

Juliet sighed, sitting gingerly on the bed. She plopped backwards, staring at the ceiling. She expected to feel mad, or sad, but instead… she felt nothing.

“How are you holding up, love?”

She turned her attention to the doorway, where George stood leaning against the doorframe. She shrugged, and the ginger haired boy came into the room, sitting on the bed next to where she lay.

“I think you two have just got to get used to each other,” he said quietly, taking her hand in his. “It’ll all work itself out, in the end.”

“Ever the optimistic, huh Georgie?” noted Juliet, moving so that her head rested in George’s lap. “Tell me about your summer so far.”

As George launched into an explanation of the different joke shop items he and Fred had been experimenting with, Juliet listened intently. He wove her fingers through her hair as he spoke, and Juliet found it was easy to let of her tension as they conversed.

Fred slipped in the room at some point, and began explaining their plans with George. Their voices calmed her, and she felt more at peace with the two of them in her presence.

Even if her father didn’t want her, she had her boys. They wanted her.

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

[gryffindors-weasley]

Lover

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: After a day of unpacking and delving into memories, a moment of fondness is shared with your lover.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of food, fluff fluff fluff, kissing

A/N: This is my fic for @gcdric ’s Taylor Swift writing challenge! It’s based off of the song ‘Lover’. Lyrics I’ve used will be bolded and italicized!

The day was quite perfect, you must admit; almost as if it’d been just so in correspondence with your plans. The late afternoon sunshine cast warmly across your skin, beaming bright before the clouds sweep over it fleetingly only to return just as glowing as before.

It was beautiful as you stood in front of the little cottage before you. You must have gone back to do so a thousand times by that point, but it was an act all too irresistible as you gazed at it, hand enveloped in Ron’s. It was your house.

It stood much shorter than the Burrow, most anything was now that you thought about it, but it radiated the same kind of warmth nonetheless. Wildflowers sprinkled and flourished tall and bright amongst the grass in patches of blues and yellows and reds, sprouted up from around the edges of the cracked stone slab pathway leading to a very golden yellow front door. The roof bowed inward a bit at the center, a chimney standing on the far left side of the sweet little home.

Moss and vines had mingled and curled up the side of the stone house, swirling around the door and curving around the window above it on the second floor. A small set of matching yellow benches had sat on either side of the door, its paint chipped and worn with use, telling of their exposure to the elements, but you think you like them better that way. Perhaps your favorite part was the wind chimes that still remained, singing softly each time the wind had pushed them together. It was all encompassed by a wooden sage green fenced, the numbers of your address stamped on a metal oval slab fixed to the very front. You could have asked for a better place to live with the love of your life, it was entirely more perfect than you could have imagined it to be.

Even with the beauty and dream come true standing right in front of him, Ron still couldn’t manage to hold his gaze on anything but you. With the four times you had come to the very end of the walkway to admire just what your fate had been, he found himself looking at you each and every time. He always did that when you were around, and he always would. When you’d catch him doing just that, the crimson burning in his cheeks was expected and far too worth it, for your smile melted his heart when you casted it upon him.

His hand squeezed your own as he smiled, taking a moment to admire the soft smile you held as you looked at your very first home, your forever home. And the way your gaze bounced around every little detail and every little flower. He took one last look before his smile widened at his next words.

“Love, we’ll be unpacking clear into next month if we come back out here a fifth time,” he quips, your own grin widening as you turn your head and look at him.

“Be quiet, Ronald, or there just might be a sixth,” you counter with a smile so sweet his heart nearly leaped out of his chest right then and there. But rather than gushing over you he simply scrunches his nose in response to the use of his full name, in response to your lighthearted teasing he so fully loved.

He’s got no time to gaze at you a moment longer as you squeeze his hand, tugging him along the stone path to the front door and slipping inside the house as your laughter trails behind.

Box after box littered almost every surface you could think of, the only thing of use having been the mismatched furniture dotting around the living room and kitchen, and the unmade bed upstairs. Most of the boxes had been opened simply to see what was inside before they’d been left in favor of looking in another or sharing a kiss far too distracting. Some of said boxes had been dented, their corners pushed in from when Ron and Fred had dropped them, but it’d been far too amusing to hold even a drop of anger about it. Unbeknownst to you it’d been your very lover’s fault, having been so caught up and fawning over the way you’d twirled in the living room, the breeze catching in your hair and a smile on your lips—so caught up he’d stopped abruptly and promptly got run into by his brother following just behind him.

The laughter that left your lips was much too worth it for him to care about most anything else, especially Fred’s grumbling and swat to the back of his head. Okay, maybe he’d interrupted his adoration to toss a glare in his older brother’s direction.

A gasp sounded from you and pulled his attention, and he watched as you pulled something out of a box labeled ‘Miscellaneous’. In your hand was a very crooked and poorly taped wand, a thin layer of dust coated on it. He hadn’t used it in quite a while, having gotten a new one that has yet to be broken, yet to be encountered by the Whomping Willow.

“You saved it?” He asks, laughter in his words.

“Of course I did. How else would we honor the very first time you stole your dad’s car?” You tease, tapping it against the very tip of his nose. While his heart fluttered at the thought that you’d pulled it from the trash and saved it, he snatched it from your hand with a frown soon turned to a smile.

“It doesn’t really work anymore, you know,” he says, brushing his thumb over the tape he’d put there just over a decade ago.

“Maybe it’s just the user and not the wand,” you quip, his eyes narrowing at you as you stifle a laugh.

“No way!” He raises the bent wand his eyes fixed on the lamp seated on a small table by the window. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

The spell is spoken with the utmost of concentration, the lamp in question rising very wobbly off the table before clattering unceremoniously to the floor. He flinches at the dreadful noise and you couldn’t fight your laugh any longer as you stole it back from his hand.

“Reparo!” You state, watching as each broken shard had mended with its matching piece, each fitting together so perfectly it’s like it’d never been broken at all.

Ron bites the inside of his cheek at the sight of your triumphant smile. You were right, you were always right. But, with a simple movement of his hand and a glowing orange beam of light, you found yourself pulled to him with ease, Carpe Retractum falling from his lips.

“I’m quite better at magic than you think, love,” he murmurs, smiling against your lips as you kiss him.

Your laughter puffed against his lips as you kissed him once more, spinning from his embrace much to his dismay in favor of digging through more boxes. “If you insist.”

He hadn’t missed the smile that had accompanied your teasing words, and you hadn’t missed his, and he was tempted to utter that spell once more just so he could kiss you again for far longer than just a mere moment. In fact, to do so until the end of time seemed perfectly well to him.

You pulled back a flap of another cardboard box that had yet to be labeled, smiling at the sight. You tugged the tangled clump of Christmas lights out, it’s cord thoroughly, knotted and woven with itself in what surely will be a pain come time to hang them up. In that moment, the thought hadn’t bothered you quite as much as it assuredly would in three month’s time, your smile beaming and bright.

“You kept these?” You ask, mimicking his earlier tone. He chuckles, nodding as he fumbled with the end of the cord that hadn’t been so terribly mangled.

“Christmas lights are essential to the holiday season, you know,” he defends. Regardless of your playful teasing, you knew just how much he liked them when it came time for the festive spirit. Well, they came second only to the assortment of cookies made every year without fail. “I suppose we can leave them up for as long as we want to now, can’t we?”

“This is our place, we make the rules.”

He smiled at the very thought, you both shared the same smile for that matter, and you knew for a fact that you’d been thinking of the same thing. You could make the rules. You could stay up past midnight to read without complaint of the glow of the lamps light streaming through floorboards and waking one of his siblings. He could practice quidditch with you in your very own backyard without his mother worrying over you both from the sidelines, though you’d done a well enough job worrying over him when she’s not around. Ice cream can be had for breakfast and breakfast can be had for dinner, dishes can be left in the sink and you can sleep in together till however late you wanted.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “yeah, we can.”

He takes a moment to look around the small living room, at the bookshelves encompassing nearly the entirety of the far wall. You’d filled that readily with your shared books, taking little effort to fill the old wooden shelves with stories read at least two times over. Scattered amongst them sat picture frames and trinkets, photographs of the two of you so gingerly placed behind glass frames to display a moment forever captured. Some of them were polaroids labeled haphazardly with the date they’d been taken, a brief caption scrawled at the bottom. Some of them had been family pictures taken by his mother, gifted to him for the time the day had come that you two could display them in your own home and you most certainly did.

Tiny treasures sat amongst them—bookmarks still tucked in books, little gifts from hogsmeade tucked atop shelves. Even the since emptied bottle of broom oil you’d gotten him for his birthday in fifth year. You knew he’d been eagerly excited to be a part of the quidditch team, his dreams of being a keeper rapidly becoming more than just dreams. He opened that little gift and saw that little bottle, something that might have seemed so awfully simple and practical to just anyone else. But the thought behind it was something more than just simple and more than just practical, even if your shared feelings hadn’t been known just yet. So there, in front of old books and photos, sat a little glass bottle, it’s label worn and faded as dregs of broom oil sat at the bottom.

He looked to the couch, it’s fabric frayed and worn in a few spots and edges. His cherished Chudley blanket taken from his childhood bed lay strewn across the back of the checkered material. The blanket you made after you insisted you could crochet lay splayed beside it, put together in uneven squares of colors that didn’t match as much as you’d hoped. Regardless of the outcome, Molly had been quite proud of it, and she adored the time well spent with you in the making of it.

He thought of how Harry could come and stay the night, for old times sake, Hermione too. There weren’t any guest bedrooms, so the living room would have to suffice. The couch and the loveseat hadn’t been too terribly comforting for slumber, but you suppose with a few extra pillows and blankets it’d be just fine. They never seemed to be one to complain anyway, always simply happy to spend time as a group without worry of danger or life changing events anymore. That very moment was put behind you six, nearly seven years prior.

It was fine, and everything was okay.

Your gasp had pulled him from his thoughts once more, his gaze finding you as you tugged his old quidditch sweater from a box labeled ‘Important: Do Not Lose’.

It was torn at the collar and a few strings of yarn had been pulled free from their stitching, and certainly it was washed more than a few times to rid it of its smell. You loved the tattered thing to pieces, he knew that. He knew from the very first moment you’d worn it that it’d been more than just a sweater to you. He remembers the way you smiled upon slipping it over your head, and the way you let the cuffs curl over your hands. He remembers the way you nuzzled into it that very night, the smell of cinnamon and a bit of his cologne still lingering on the fabric. He knew from that very first moment that it wouldn’t be the last time you’d stolen it from him, he knew you loved it and for that very reason he’d stopped his mother from turning it into a commemorative blanket.

You pulled it over your head, that very same smile on your face as there always was when you wore it. It hung from your shoulders in heaps of maroon and golden yellow, effectively staving off the cool September breeze. He’d had plenty more quidditch sweaters and jerseys considering his once fond hobby had turned to a career, but none of them seemed to hold as much sentiment as this.

He couldn’t help the way his heart swelled with pride when you wore it, when he thought of just how proud you’d always been. Even when he hadn’t had a successful match, even when he hadn’t been at the top of his game—you still cheered for him fiercely and boasted so highly of him that his cheeks burned at the mere thought. Whether it was just the two of you on the quidditch pitch the night before a match against Slytherin or it was from the stands at a match hours from home, you had always done it.

You looked so utterly beautiful, so completely radiant he felt his heart just might burst in his chest should you be anymore ethereal. He hadn’t known how he’d gotten quite so lucky, but he had.

You look to Ron across the unfinished living room, his smile soft and beaming and focused entirely on you.

“What is it?” You ask, laughing softly as your cheeks flush under his gaze, your hands smoothing over the yarn. The look on his face then is photo worthy, but holding it in your memory will have to suffice.

“Dance with me?”

Your smile widened, heart hammering in your chest with lovestruck excitement at the mere thought of it. Not to mention the grin tugging so cutely at the corners of his mouth that made it absolutely impossible to keep from mirroring it. It was often that Ron Weasley’s actions spoke far louder than words, that a simple look could declare a thousand ‘I love you’s’. It was then, in that very moment as he stood contently amongst a dozen boxes yet to be unpacked, that the look he so lovingly held just might’ve spoken a million.

You walk to him without a second’s hesitation and take his offered hand, squealing when he pulls you close. His own laughter soon fills the room as he twirls you once, twice, the action wonderfully dizzying as you settle into a rhythm not quite in sync with each other. His smile was beaming and bright as the sun streamed into the room, everything it landed on golden and orange.

“Ron Weasley, I thought you hated dancing?” You say, your smile just as teasing as your words.

“People change, right?” He shrugs, quick to rain a flurry of kisses across your flushed cheek as his laughter presses into your skin. That is, until he’d parted from you just enough for you to see a glimpse of realization cross his face. “Don’t tell my brothers.”

Your laughter is immediate as you kiss him, his brief moment of panic simmering into a smile that’s nearly too fond for his own good. “I can’t make any guarantees.”

He groans in protest against your very kiss, lifting you up to spin you in his arms in the sweetest of retaliations. Somehow, he believes the lifetime of teasing from his brothers would be entirely worth it if only to see you smile, if only to hear you laugh.

“I’m only kidding, my love,” you giggle, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, sure,” he grins, kissing down your cheek.

Can I go where you go?

This very moment was one that’d stick with him for the rest of his life, happily, one that he’d get to live each and every day and the thought alone was unbelievable. It was your house, your home, a place entirely the perfect fit for the two of you to flourish and thrive and spend for seasons in. It was a culmination of the very things that made the two of you who you are.

Truthfully, he’d follow you anywhere without hesitation. He’d travel to the very ends of the earth if it meant he’d be with you, and you the same. He knew since he was sixteen that he’d wanted to be wherever you were and wherever you will be. He hadn’t thought at the time that he’d wind up in a home amongst the rolling hills, tucked away to yourselves. He hadn’t thought he’d even have the nerve to tell you he loves you. His future had been far brighter than he could have ever imagined it to be.

And you, you were right where you wanted to be, right where you needed to be. Ron Weasley was the love of your life, a dull moment never shared. You felt you could do just about anything so long as he was with you, go anywhere so long as he was there. He was loving, he was kind, he was true.

Can we always be this close?

The laughter had since dulled to breathy sighs and soft smiles, a gesture you’re very aware of when you lift your gaze to look up at him once more. A smile that’s shared most tenderly in the close proximity, noses brushing and breath sweeping warmly over lips. It was then that you lean on your toes and kiss him, his very grip on your hand tightening a fraction and your swaying becoming distracted and stilled. His smile was immediate against your lips, telling of just how profoundly giddy you’d made him, how wholeheartedly he loved you.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers, his lips brushing over yours as he kisses you once more. The softness of his laughter dances across your skin, his forehead resting on yours as he makes no effort to hide his smile. “I love you. I really, really love you.”

Your nose scrunches against his and your own smile widens and soon you find yourself kissing the very tip of his nose, his cupid’s bow, his lips. The warmth blossoming in your chest is a feeling most unbeatable to all else; it was love. It lanced through you with certainty and settled permanently within your heart, a feeling so frighteningly wonderful, and so dizzying in its wake.

The two of you began to sway softly again to music unheard, hands clasped as your other rests on his chest as the sun dips lower in the sky, the long yet happy day soon to be put behind you. One more kiss is pressed to his cheek before you dip your head to rest on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed with all the contentment in the world. And softly, you murmur, “I love you. I really, really love you.”

You’re my, my, my, my,

Lover.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @vogueweasley @ch0colatefr0gs @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime