#THE FRECKLES (puking sounds)

[gyuswhore]

he knew i missed him 💔💔💔💔💔💔

[doc-pickles]

sent to save me | sidney crosby (ch. 2)

series masterlist

summary: sid grapples with his emotions and talks with annie before visiting the malkin’s newest addition

warnings: none! :)

author’s note: Hey y’all! I’m so happy you’re enjoying this series already. I’m super excited to write it out and give it some body. Hope you like this chapter!

xoxo

nina

The first time Sidney Crosby met Annie Wright she spilled coffee all over him.

“Shit I’m so sorry I wasn’t watching and my phone rang and-,” Annie had paused and looked up at Sidney with wide eyes. “And now the tabloids are going to rake me through the mud for trying to take out Pittsburgh’s Golden Boy.”

Sid chuckled and looked down at his shirt with a grin, “S’okay. It was an accident. Unless you purposely spill coffee on strangers.”

The wide grin that Annie gave Sidney is one he still pictures to this day. Her hair was in a high ponytail, her face freckled from the summer sun. He compares that image with the version of Annie standing in front of him now. She looks sad, worn down even. This is not his Annie.

They’re both standing speechless across from each other and for a moment it feels like no time has passed. But then Sid blinks and his world comes crashing back down around him.

“Is Vivie mine?” Sid’s not sure where his words come from. It feels like he’s not even the one saying them, like he’s watching the scene unfold before him from outside of his body. “I need you to tell me, I need to hear it from your lips. Is she mine?”

Annie’s eyes search his face for a moment before she nods and answers in a quiet voice, “Yes she’s your daughter Sidney.”

His hands run over his face, through his hair, covers his eyes. Sid sucks in a deep breath and immediately feels his sandwich from earlier coming back up. He quickly turns around and pukes into the bush there, chest heaving as he braces his hands on his knees.

He has a daughter.

A daughter who’s first seven years of life he’s missed.

A daughter with the only woman he’s ever loved.

When he’s sure that he’s not going to throw up again Sid stands up, takes a deep breath, and turns to Annie. Her teeth are digging into her lip, a nervous habit she’s always had, and even though he has a million conflicted emotions about her Sid finds all he wants to do right now is smooth out the skin of Annie’s lips like he used to.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” Annie breathes and runs a hand through her blonde locks. “Which isn’t fair to you I know but I wasn’t exactly expecting to run into you when I woke up today. Damn it, I’m sorry I know you’re expecting answers but I can’t… I can’t think straight. I’m sorry.”

Sid sighs and nods, “I get it. I’m, uh, pretty speechless too.” He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair, clocking Annie’s eyes following his hand. “I have Niki for a few days but maybe… Maybe we could meet up and talk?”

Annie only hesitates for a moment before nodding, her shoulders loosening just a little bit, “That… Yeah that would be good.”

They stand there awkwardly for a few moments as if they’d never been madly in love and on the verge of spending their lives together. Finally Sidney is the one to break the silence as his fingers twitch at his sides.

“Vivie is all Nikita talks about,” Sid smirks at the small laugh that Annie lets out. “Seriously, he spent 20 minutes this morning telling me about why blue and purple are her favorite colors.”

Annie rolls her eyes playfully before smirking, “Yeah that sounds right. Annie and him have been inseparable since they met in kindergarten. Hold on, I have this one picture…”

As Annie pulls her phone out Sidney drinks in her casual appearance, a pair of frayed jeans with a white tee tucked into it. She’s just as gorgeous as she’s always been and it makes Sid’s chest constrict tightly despite the anger and sadness still lingering there.

“Here! They wanted matching costumes so they decided to be Woody and Jessie,” Annie holds her phone and shows Sid a photo of Nikita and Vivie, arms wrapped around each other. It’s clearly from a few years ago, both of them sporting chubby cheeks and bright eyes. Sid takes in the way Vivie’s eyes look so much like his, the way her chin is a perfect replica of his.

There’s emotion overflowing in his chest and Sid finds he has to look away so he doesn’t start crying in front of a fucking elementary school right after throwing up there. He clears his throat and looks away from Annie’s phone, “She’s beautiful, An. Is, uh, is Vivie short for something?”

“Her full name is Vivienne,” Annie whispers as she watches her phone intently. “Um… Vivienne Taylor.”

Sidney felt his heart clench at Annie’s words, knowing she’d thought of him when naming their daughter. He let out a slow breath, willing back his tears once more before nodding, “That’s… Thank you.”

Annie and Sid exchange numbers before parting ways and as soon as he’s behind the wheel of his SUV Sidney lets out a ragged breath followed by a low sob.

+

“Mama! Papa!”

Sid’s been on auto pilot since his run in with Annie this morning, but Nikita’s yell breaks him out of his haze momentarily. He follows the boy into the hospital room, watching as Geno lifts his son into his arms and kisses his hair.

That should be you with your daughter.

Shaking the thought off Sid sets the flowers he’d brought on the bedside table before coming over to hug Anya, kissing her forehead.

“You look great for just having pushed a baby out,” Sid teases lightly, but his grin doesn’t reach his eyes.

“She big like her papa, nearly tore me in half,” Anya grins up at Sid before looking to the bundle in her arms. “You wanna hold?”

He agrees instinctively and carefully takes the baby from Anna. Her little face is scrunched up and Sid can already see wisps of dark hair peeking out from her cap. Gently running a finger down her chubby cheek Sid thinks about his own daughter and how he never got this moment with her. Hell he’d never even hugged the girl and she was already seven years old.

“Sid why you crying, it’s just baby,” Geno teases as he sidles up next to him. He looks him over before lowering his voice. “You okay?”

Sidney nods and stares at the baby for another moment before speaking, “I met Vivie today. And her mom.”

Geno grunts, his eyes trained on his daughter, “Mom never around when I am. Anya think she’s avoiding me, don’t know why though.”

“Vivie’s mom is Annie,” Sid pauses and then looks up at Geno, whose face has gone white. “My Annie.”

The two men stand in silence, Nikita chattering to his mom in the background. Sid and Geno keep their eyes locked on the baby in Sid’s arms as they come to terms with the bomb that had been dropped on them. Annie had left before Anya had moved to Pittsburgh, it was reasonable she wouldn’t know who she was. But Geno would have and Annie knew that.

“Sid is…,” Geno looks scared to utter the words as he meets Sid’s eyes. “Vivie?”

Sid simply nods, Geno exhaling and running a hand over his face. The baby fusses a bit and Sidney immediately starts to rock back and forth, bouncing on his heels and soothing her.

“You’re natural Sid,” Anya muses with a grin, missing the wince Geno lets out. “When you have your own babies?”

“Anya,” Geno says lowly and though he can’t understand it, Sid knows that whatever he says in Russian is enough for Anna to get that she shouldn’t ask more questions.

+

Later that night after he’s tucked Nikita into bed Sid checks his phone, a glass of scotch in one hand as he sinks into the couch. He has a few texts but there’s only one he clicks into.

Unknown: hey it’s annie. let me know when a good time for you to meet up is, i’m flexible.

And then, as if knowing his heart didn’t need to take anymore hits today, Annie sends a photo of Vivie fast asleep in her bed with a stuffed penguin tucked under her chin.

And Sidney finally lets his tears fall.

[five-rivers]

Hunger Chapter 2

“Well, if it's the lone star tick, that only makes you allergic to red meat, right?” said Sam.  

“Yeah, I guess,” said Danny, staring hard at the plate of chicken nuggets Tucker had just pulled from the microwave.  He was also under the impression that the tick thing got you all at once, not gradually if rapidly over the course of a few weeks, with the effects going from thinking meat tasted off, to just ‘not being in the mood’ for it, to actively throwing up upon taking a bite of a hamburger.  

He tried to determine if the faint sense of nausea he felt while looking at the chicken was from his memory or, well, from looking at the chicken.  

“Cheese was fine,” observed Tucker.  “Eggs were fine.”

They had been.  Danny picked up a chicken nuggets and tried to ignore how his skin crawled as he did so.  Before he could double-guess himself, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed as quickly as possible, hardly even chewing.  

His body immediately rebelled.  

Luckily, he had a good mental map of Tucker's house, so he was able to dive through the wall and into the bathroom before he started puking his guts out.  

“Not the tick, then,” said Tucker, sounding like he was going to barf himself.  

“You know,” said Sam, “I'm all for having more vegetarians in the world, but I think you should maybe… see someone about this.”

Danny finished emptying his digestive system and went to the sink to rinse out his mouth.  

“Who?” he asked, tone matching the bitter taste.  “It's not like I can go see a doctor.  Half ghost and all.”

“I know that,” said Sam.  “I meant your ghost friend.  The one that helped you with your other changes.  The freckles and skin color and ghost puberty stuff.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  “I don't really want to bother him too much, though.”

And, when he wasn't actively experiencing the need to be eaten, or the disorienting second childhood that came after, he was rather shy about the whole arrangement.  Understandably so, he thought.  

Sam crossed her arms and stared at him, unimpressed, through the bathroom mirror.

“What happens when this does spread to eggs and cheese?  Or fruit?  Or vegetables?  Would you go see him then?”

Danny grimaced and went ghost, hoping he could get rid of the foul taste in his mouth that way.  If anything, it made it worse.  

“Whoa!  What's that on your back?” asked Tucker, pointing.  

Danny looked back at him, alarmed at the tone of voice, then twisted so he could see his back in the mirror.  Pushing up on his suit from below were two bumps, just under his shoulder blades.  He quickly unzipped and pulled down the top of his suit.  It wasn't something stuck on his back.  It was part of his back.  Two upwards distortions of skin.  

“I don't know,” he said.  He touched one of the tiny knobs.  It was sensitive, though not in a bad way.  On the other hand, it didn't really feel like skin.  More like… petals, maybe.  Soft and silky.  

He swallowed.  As strange as it may sound, being eaten had removed some of the sense of wrongness Danny had felt about his body since the Accident.  But this… this mutation… he didn't know what to do with this.  

But maybe Clockwork would.

.

Half curled in Clockwork's lap, listening to him rhythmically list off things he thought were appetizing, things that Danny could feel his core taking special note of, he didn't know why he'd been so nervous.  

When Clockwork finished his list (which included things like statues, silver, gemstones, the smell of lilacs and lilies, chocolate, vanilla, cream, sugar, and the sound of clocks) Danny looked up.  “So my wings will bloom… like a flower?”

“They tend to be similar in appearance, yes.”

“And my body will change to be tasty.”

“As you ripen.”

“And then you'll eat me, and that's it?  Things will go back to normal?”

“What do you mean by normal?”

“You know.  Like it usually is for me.”

“You will have to grow up again, and when you near ripeness, the wings will grow back, but, to some degree, yes.”  He paused for a moment, playing with Danny's hair.  “Once your wings bloom, you will find yourself compelled to seek out places with high concentrations of ectoplasm, so you can feed.  You may also find yourself losing mobility, either from physical changes or psychological pressure.  At least, those are all things experienced by other ghosts with this adaptation.  I cannot tell you your future, after all.”

Danny wrinkled his nose at the obvious loophole-ing, but pressed on.  “To make it easier for someone to find and eat me.”

“Yes.”

“And this will happen again?”

“It may happen more slowly, if you are not under quite so much pressure to improve, but yes.”  Clockwork started to braid some of Danny's longer hairs. 

“Can I, um, can I come here, when I start to bloom, then?”

“Of course,” said Clockwork.  “I believe the garden will be most suitable, should you feel the need to plant yourself, but your bedroom is also available, and you may choose any space you like.”

Danny hummed.  “And you'll still eat me?”

“Of course.”

Danny's stomach rumbled, jolting him out of his half-doze and reminding him that he'd thrown up everything he'd eaten today.  

He blushed, then blushed harder when he realized that, without his top on, Clockwork could probably see the blush working its way all down Danny's back to the base of his spine.  

Clockwork chuckled.  “Speaking of eating, growing wings is hungry work.  Come.”

Reluctantly, Danny got up and followed Clockwork to the kitchen he had stocked with human things.  Danny hadn't thought about it much, but he must have made it especially for Danny, for when he was growing up again after being eaten.  

Clockwork reached into the fridge and removed a large, clay jug of something, then a smaller glass bottle full of something red like wine.  He examined the bottle for a while.  “I could,” he said, after a moment, “accelerate the growth of your wings.  Just this once.”

“Why only once?”

“The cycle of consumption and regrowth would become unbalanced if done too frequently.  You may eventually wind up growing wings shortly after hatching.”

“Yikes,” said Danny.  “Um.  I think I'll pass this time and just go at the normal rate.”

Clockwork nodded and put the glass bottle away.  Then, from the jug, he poured Danny a cup of what looked a lot like thick paint but smelled so good Danny's mouth was watering before Clockwork even gave it to him.  It tasted a lot like a vanilla milkshake, and as soon as he was done drinking it, he fell asleep.  

.

“He says it's normal,” said Danny.  

“Really?” said Sam, with all the sarcastic bite a goth teenager could manage, which was a lot.  

“The type of ghost I am doesn't eat other ghosts, and since I'm half human, that crosses over to animals.  It's not going to get worse, it's just…” He sighed.  “A thing.”

“And the stuff on your back?” asked Tucker.

“Same kind of thing.  They're like antlers.  They'll fall off eventually.”

“Well,” said Sam, when Danny failed to elaborate, “I can at least give you some vegetarian meal recipes.”

.

Danny found himself eating more sweets.  And more cream.  A lot more cream, since usually he didn't eat any.  He wasn't sure why, since it wasn't like eating those would make him taste like them.  Unless it did?  Ghost logic was strange, sometimes.  

Whatever.  It was food.  It wasn't like he was eating flowers.  

.

The process of growing wings was both painful and satisfying.  Painful, because the growing buds made his back ache in both forms, despite only existing in one.  Satisfying, because the bigger they got the less wrong they felt.  

Like he was growing back into himself.  

.

Okay, so he was eating flowers.  It wasn't like he was eating anyone's jewelry.  

.

He'd thought he'd have to change his jumpsuit to accommodate the wing buds.  He didn't.  His jumpsuit changed on its own, not stretching, but weaving itself over the buds as they grew.  It was like the suit was part of the buds, too, that way.  

Even the seams lined up with the edges of the petals.  

.

He booted Johnny Thirteen from the jewelry store, then froze, looking at the display cases.  His stomach rumbled a little.  

No.  Just, no.  He wasn't an animal.  He had control over himself.  He wasn't doing that.  

.

In the dead of the night, he woke from the kind of deep, heavy sleep he only got when he had truly exhausted himself.  His core sang with resonance.  

With an automatic response that came from being taught it from early childhood twice, Danny rolled out of bed and followed the pull down the stairs and into the basement.  He transformed sluggishly, groaning a little as his wing buds came into being.  They were still furled, but they had grown long and heavy and while the weight and tension could feel good in some positions, the same tension could stress every muscle in his body if he moved the wrong way.  

He flew through the Zone on autopilot, following the resonance all the way home to Long Now.  He snuggled into Clockwork's side, seeking the core that had called him.  

“Hi,” he said, tiredly.  “What's up?”

“Hello, Daniel.  Your wings are about to bloom.  I thought it best to call you here.”

“Oh, thanks,” said Danny.  

“Here, I've set something up for you in the garden.”

“Hm?  Why?” asked Danny, letting Clockwork steer him.  

“The garden has the best ectoradiation and flow of ectoplasm.”

Those things did sound good…

When they got to the garden, in all its multi-season glory, Clockwork took Danny down a path he'd never noticed before.  At the end of it was a cool, pleasant glade, with a small pond and a wooden bench and table.  On one side of the pond was the statue of a veiled angel, holding a mirror.  Directly opposite the mirror, on the other side of the pond, was a clear space and a a moss-covered rock that was just the right size for a pillow.

Clockwork guided Danny down to kneel by the rock, then to rest his head on it so he was looking at the mirror.

The first thing that Danny noticed was that Clockwork had arranged him in the classic, semi-fetal “baby angel” pose.  The second thing was that it was absurdly comfortable, the position perfectly accounting for the weight of his wings.  

“I thought you would like to see,” explained Clockwork.  

Danny, still only half awake, was about to ask see what when his whole body was seized with acute, anticipatory tension.  

The covering of his jupsuit peeled away first, revealing the silver-freckled purple of the outside of his wings.  Then, with a sticky, tearing sound, the petals themselves separated, falling open to the sky.  There were three for each wing, their insides a dull, clouded green.  

He trembled with the sudden influx of energy.  He could taste the sky, the wind, the delicate variations of ectoenergy.  But none of that energy was available for him.  He could feel it being stored away, packed tight and out of reach, a treat for whoever ate him.  

He tried to stay awake, but the exertions of his new functions bore him under swiftly.  He didn't even remember closing his eyes.  

.

An advantage of his wings senses was that he knew exactly where he was when he woke up.  Directly in front of his face was a ladle with a note that said “stay hydrated!” on it, and a plate full of… clock parts?

He picked one up - a small silver plate with emeralds pressed into it - and popped it in his mouth without thinking about it.  

The freak out was immediately followed by the rest of the clock parts disappearing. 

Danny's jumpsuit was shredded and didn't seem to be reforming like it usually did, so Danny put on the pair of pajama pants that had been left, folded, on the bench.  Then, he went to look for Clockwork.  

(Stepping inside made his wings droop ever-so-slightly.  The environment outside really was better.)

“Thanks for calling me over,” said Danny, floating closer to Clockwork, “and for the, um.  Snack.  But should probably go back to Amit–”  Danny was hit with a massive wave of disorientation.  He very much wanted to go home, but at the same time, he was completely certain that was a bad idea.  He would have fallen out of the air if Clockwork hadn't steadied him.  His core whined, confused, and a very small part of him was pleased to detect a slightly mechanical, ticking note to the noise.  

“Daniel,” said Clockwork, very gently, “Amity Park is back on Earth, outside the Zone.  There wouldn't be enough ectoplasm there for you.” 

“But,” said Danny, uncertainly.  

“Can you turn human right now?” asked Clockwork.  

Danny tried.  He couldn’t.  His wings held him firmly in ghost form, refusing to be banished before their task was done and Danny was being digested in Clockwork’s stomach.  

“I intend to keep our arrangement from earlier,” said Clockwork, before Danny could panic.  “You will not be missed.”

Danny relaxed.  The times Clockwork had eaten him, he'd stopped time until Danny could go home.  “Thanks,” he said.  

Clockwork nodded graciously, then pulled Danny towards him to kiss his forehead.  “I can already tell that you'll taste delicious in no time.  Please, relax.  There is no hurry.”

.

“I think I have more freckles than before,” said Danny.

“Indeed,” said Clockwork, setting a bowl of what Danny knew was just cream, sugar, vanilla, and ectoplasm mixed together in front of him.  

That didn’t stop his body from craving the mixture like nothing else.  

Clockwork stopped him from grabbing it, and emptied a small jar of flower petals into it.  Then flakes of silver and diamond dust.  

Danny made a hungry noise.  One layer of it was human enough, but whirring and ticking and something bell-like were clearly audible.  

(Danny could not match any clocks, yet, but he was working on it)

“They’re getting bigger, too,” he observed, after guzzling half the bowl.  

“I see,” said Clockwork.  

“And they feel different.  The skin.”  The freckles felt smoother, slicker, and cooler than the skin around them.

Clockwork picked up one of Danny’s hands and ran his thumb over a tight cluster of freckles.  “Like icing on a cake.”

Danny took his hand back and finished off the bowl.  “Do you think I’ll taste like cake.”

“I think you will taste like yourself,” said Clockwork.  “Sweeter than any cake.”

.

Danny tried to sleep in the room he’d grown up in, the last two times, but the air in there felt so stale when compared to the garden, and he found himself sleeping at the pond, resuming the position Clockwork had put him in the first time.  

Well, he supposed Clockwork had foreseen how well it would work.  

Clockwork spent a lot of time there, too, sitting at the bench and reading out loud to Danny as he dozed.

.

The freckles started to merge together into broad silvery-white patches.  When those patches were around a joint, the joint became hard to move.  Extra force was needed to bend the tough, shiny, skin.  And within those silver patches, gems grew, set into his skin like bearings in watches.  

.

Danny’s wings started to pale.  Streaks of color - silver, bronze, blue, palest lilac and pink - made appearances, organizing themselves into complex fractal patterns.  

.

“I know I’m sleeping more,” said Danny, “but I don’t know how much more.”

They were still in the garden.  Clockwork was rubbing a cream into Danny’s back, near his wings.  There were complex structures there, under his skin, woven through his ectoplasmic muscles and around his bones, and they were working hard, all the time.  Even in the best position Clockwork could put him in, they often ached.  

And even the satisfying ache of a job well done was still an ache.  

“How much time you spend here doesn’t matter,” said Clockwork.  “You should sleep as much as you need to, and not worry about it.”

.

When Danny woke up, he couldn’t open his right eye.  He looked at the mirror across the pond and saw that a silver patch had completely covered the eyelid.  

He groaned and tried to push himself up.  Tried.  His wrist didn’t bend when he told it to.  He glared at it, one-eyed.  Silver had circled it, too, and the thumb on that hand.  He tried to bend it again, and had some success, but as soon as he stopped actively forcing it, it returned to the position it was in before.  

A quick check showed that his eye and wrist weren’t the only body parts affected.  His left hip was partially covered, and so was a great deal of his spine.  

This would have been a much bigger problem if he couldn’t fly.  

“I can bring you breakfast in the garden,” said Clockwork.  “You don’t want to be stuck in an uncomfortable position.”

Danny was already itching to go back to the garden.  His wings had started to produce a thin, fragrant nectar from their bases the other day, and since then, sitting upright made his back feel bloated and leaky.  

He opened his mouth to say as much, but instead of a human voice, a complex series of ticks and chimes rolled out.  The ticks sent pleasing vibrations through his bones and flesh, and the chimes hummed in his throat.  It was all completely incomprehensible to him, but it felt good.

He glanced up at Clockwork, who was smiling.  “Go on,” Clockwork said.

Danny grinned - skin moving strangely around the silver patches - and started to chatter.  

.

The next day, Danny couldn’t open either of his eyes.  The air smelled strongly of vanilla and lilac.  

“Don’t worry, Daniel,” said Clockwork as he tipped a cup of cream into Danny’s mouth, “I will take pictures of what you look like ripe.”

.

Having spent so much time at Long Now, Danny hadn’t released the cold energy that naturally built up in his core over time.  It spread outwards, now, freezing him from the inside out even as the silvery-white coating his skin did the same from the outside in.  

But it did not touch his wings, which stayed soft and flexible and took in energy and ectoplasm at the same steady rate.  

.

“I wonder if you are even aware of all the sounds you are making,” said Clockwork, fondly, as he rubbed Danny’s back in that way that felt so good.  “They’re enough to make me want to eat you right away, but I can tell you aren’t quite ripe yet.”  He patted Danny’s back.  “Just a little longer.”

.

Danny knew when he was ripe.  Not from any external stimulus, but because something like a switch popped up in his brain.  Not a literal switch, of course, he wasn’t hallucinating, but he knew that if he flipped it, if he made this one, last, tiny conscious decision, he would send out a signal that said eat me, I’m tasty!

He flipped the switch.  

.

(The next thing he consciously remembered, he was hatching from an egg in Clockwork’s hands.)

[k11ty]

Beaten

Artist: @154_Doge on twt

Tw: vomit

"What's wrong? Can't breathe?" You were definitely mocking his condition, was the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers actually this weak? Just a simple punch to the stomach drove him to double over and fall to his knees, hugging his lower half. He was in total shock, big blue eyes widening as tears threaten to slide down his cheeks. Were you testing him? A loud, watery splatter makes you study him more.

"What the fuck...?" You raise your eyebrow at the sound, realizing that the youngest had vomited on the ground and shoes. Your shoes. He let out a series of throaty coughs, hastily bringing a hand to muffle them. He struggles to swallow down the tears and you grab him hard on each bicep, pulling him up with you. His tearful visions hesitantly met your glare, it smelled disgusting having his breath in your face. The lower of Childe's face was soaked with puke, the half-digested food clinging to the side of his mouth and down his chin. The liquid trickles between what maintained a soiled form and was trickling down the collar of his red undershirt and your shoes.

A wet exhale leaves a string of vomit trailing out his mouth before opening his mouth again to talk. "M'sorry...sir" he exhales shakily, he shivers again, his tongue coming into contact with the gross texture covering his mouth. Every breath he takes and exhales sends a putrid smell through your nose. "If you're really sorry, then you should get down on your knees and start cleaning your mess, Eleventh." Your tone was cold and bitter, Childe obeyed almost immediately when you loosen your grip on his face and arms.

"You can start by cleaning my shoes, then lick up what you spilled on the ground. Do you think the other Harbingers want to see disgusting vomit on the training grounds?" His ginger brows knitted together as he gazed down at the vomit. In extreme disgust, both lips are only slightly raised, he wanted to vomit again. Childe can't remember when he last puked, it must have been when he was a baby and he can't think it was this bad. He really didn't feel good at all...

"What are you waiting for, are you really that useless" you roll your eyes, and he looks up at you with his arms around his abdomen still. He finally bends down, closing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. he starts at the pointed tip of the shoe, ever so slightly scuffed, he tastes gritty filth and leather. The cold vomit made touch with the tastebuds on his tongue and he think he might puke again, but this time all over your foot. Both palms slap over his mouth to prevent vomiting, he was using all of his might to hold back from puking all over you again.

A whimper, still quiet but louder than any sound he's made since he had gotten here. "Come on, don't you want to be done with it? You were doing so good already!" Sarcasm. He knows it was. Not letting him collect himself in time, you kick him punitively, digging your soled foot into his shoulder to exhort it into the floor, his face now smearing in his own vomit. Childe let out a distressed grunt as you pry his arms from the warmth of his gut. He didn't dare to move them from their protected position, 'letting' you spike the various stitches and stapled incisions along his torso.

"You disgusting brat..." he hears you snarl, nearly muffled through his screaming. You shut him up by beating his freckled face into the stone floor, his eyes clamp shut. Bits of nasal bones choked him off with the drizzle of blood. Childe huffs through his nose and he felt the blood pour out from his nostrils like a waterfall. You release the grip on his messy hair and onto his face and neck, holding him up. You snicker, bringing his bloody face close to yours to take in the scent of fresh blood and vomit. A fetid smell caught your nose, you look down to see Childe pissing himself out of fear. You release him and his body collapses to the floor as he hits his head again, and you only look at him with disgust, the smell of concentrated urine and vomit was unbearing. It takes Childe a moment before he gains consciousness and realizes that he had urinated himself in fear.

"Disgusting pig" you spit, your voice echoing as you walk away from him. He unconsciously moves his hands over his face and cries, eyes wide open though and heavy breathing.

He can't belive you noticed him.

[slayonehundredninetytwo]

Bunk Beds

hello!!hope you enjoy this fic! the ending is a little abrupt in my opinion but i wasn’t sure how to fix it, deal with it 😘

side note, i want something to call you guys. any suggestions?

Sickie:Felix

Caretaker: Mostly Chan and some Changbin

————————————————————————-

Felix woke up in the middle of the night to his stomach churning. He sat up. The stomach ache was quickly accompanied by nausea, and Felix knew he had to get out of this bed. Before he could move to get down the ladder, a harsh gag escaped his mouth, and he knew all  hope was lost for getting down. All he could manage to do was lean over the railing as a thick wave of vomit spewed out of my mouth.

Changbin was woken up to a splash of liquid next to him.  He was definitely very confused until he realized what the sound was coming from. 

“Felix?”

The only reply he got was another wave of vomit falling down beside his bed, and Felix’ sobbing. 

Changbin cautiously got out of bed, careful not step in anything or be in the line of fire, right before Felix lurched forward with an even larger wave of sick. He could see Felix in his bed at this point, leaning over the side, tears streaming down his face with sobs racking his body. 

“Lix, you gotta calm down, it’s okay. You’re only making yourself sicker.”

I was trying to comfort him, but in all honesty he had no idea what to do in this situation. Luckily, Chan woke up as well, and he had a better idea of what to do. He grabbed the bin from under the desk and handed it up to Felix. Felix let out a loud heave along with a smaller gush of puke. After a few more small splashes, it was clear he was empty. Chan took the bin out of Felix’s shaking hands to go clean it out. Changbin decided to climb up the ladder of the bunk to get a better look at Felix. He was still crying, his freckled cheeks red with embarrassment and probably a fever. 

“I’m s-sorr-y” 

He said in between sobs. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re obviously sick, you can’t help it.” Changbin pressed a hand to Felix’s forehead, and as he had suspected, he definitely had a fever.

“B-but I ma-made a mess”

“Don’t worry lix, we’ll clean it up. It’s really okay.”

Changbin moved closer to the crying boy, rubbing his back. He seemed to calm down a bit, and so Changbin climbed back down out of the bed to find a thermometer. He returned with the thermometer to find Chan was just about finished cleaning up.

“Lix, do you think you can come down here?”

He shook his head yes and started down the ladder. His balance seemed off however, so Changbin supported him from the ground as he got down. He led him to sit down on Chan’s bed, away from lingering vomit remains.

He put the thermometer in Felix’s mouth and waited for the beep.

“You’ve definitely got a fever. 38.6”

“How long have you been feeling sick?”

Chan asked.

“I didn’t really feel bad until when I woke up earlier”

“Okay. Why don’t you lay down here in my bed while I go get you some fever reducers.” 

Felix didn’t hesitate to lay back down, he was clearly exhausted. Changbin was sure to  move the freshly cleaned waste basket next to the bed before Felix closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

While looking for meds for Felix in the kitchen, Chan glanced at the clock. It read 7:35 AM. The others will probably be waking up soon, after all, they still had busy schedules for the day. He reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out the fever reducers.

“Are those fever reducers?”

He heard a voice say. Turning around, he found that Suengmin was awake already.

“Yeah. Felix woke up sick this morning. He threw up.”

“Aw that sucks. Is he missing the interview later?”

“Right, I totally forgot about that. Can you actually take these in to Felix? I need to call our manager.” 

Without much else, Seungmin quickly took the medicine to Felix, which I was grateful for. 

Seungmin opened to door to find Felix sitting up with the trash can in his lap, heaving over it while Changbin held his hair back. 

“I guess Chan wasn’t kidding.” 

Seungmin said, walking over next to the bed to rub Felix’s back. When it became clear that Felix wasn’t bringing anything up, Seungmin handed him the bottle of water, which Felix took a few careful sips of before handing it back.

“Think you can take some medicine right now?”

“No. It will just come back up.”

“We can wait a little bit. I’m gonna leave these here and go get you a cool wash cloth, maybe that will help a bit.”

Felix just nodded and fell asleep before his head had even hit the pillow. 

————————————————————-

As the other members slowly woke up and got ready for the day, they all missed their sunshine. Luckily, Felix hadn’t thrown up again and was sound asleep. Bang Chan said that Felix was given off for the day, but no one else  was allowed to stay home with him. They were all worried to leave Felix alone, but it was better than bringing him with them. They got some medicine and soup in him,  and are hoping it stays down. Before leaving, they made sure to remind Felix to call them if he needed anything.  During dance practice Chan’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Chan I-“

He was cut off by a gag, and Chan heard Felix expelling the soup and medication from earlier as it splashed against the toilet bowl.

“Oh Lixie. I wish I could be there with you.”

On the other end of the line, Felix was barely listening to Chan talk, as he was too busy throwing up his lunch.

He hated this. He hated being alone. At least he had Chan on the phone to talk him through it, even if he wasn’t really listening. Until he heard the sound of the call ending. Chan had hung up. Felix felt so abandoned and miserable, trying to hold back his own hair. He just started to cry again. He needed his hyung’s comfort. He couldn’t do this alone. The crying wasn’t helping, and instead made him heave and heave time and time again barely bringing anything up. This sucks. Suddenly, he felt someone take his hair from his hand to hold it out of his face. He looked up to see Chan looking back at him. A wave of relief washed over him. 

“I’m so so sorry I hung up on you Lixie. I was calling our manager, insisting I be able to come take care of you. I’m sorry I left you alone.”

Felix was so happy he could start crying again, but he was just too exhausted and sick. When he FINALLY finished throwing up, he leaned back against his aussie big brother, who carried him back to their room and tucked him in. 

The rest of the 3 days Felix was sick, Chan was right by Felix’s side, making sure he was taken care of. Felix was just glad to have company from someone he loved so much when he felt so miserable.

🫶

[publicabsent]

small drabble under here. warnings include: implied spousal abuse, physical violence, gendered language, mentions of alcoholism, death. <3

things have been normal. perhaps that, in itself, might have warned the medium that such smooth waters precede a violent storm. but normalcy is intoxicating, & leads to complacency.

the task was simple – deliver the books to the addresses, picking up any that are due, nothing complex. nothing she hasn’t done plenty of times before. (except now, complacency bleeds into carelessness, & she’s misread an address.) nothing strange till the last house. the roof of it sags, shingles missing in small patches. the lawn is somehow both brown & overgrown. the door, a light, cheap wood, sits crooked between two luan-covered windows. annette hesitates before knocking, a brief chill running down her spine.

that was her one & only warning.

delicate knuckles rap on the door, which easily opens without a sound.

“h - he-hello … ? i’m fr-from the l-li—“

a sickeningly familiar cold freezes her lungs solid as the gravelly, slurred voice of a man interrupts her.

“well, well, well. look-y who’s come crawlin’ back. surprised t’see me, ava?”

like a prey animal, annette freezes as one large ghostly arm wraps around her waist, the smell of cheap booze & decay flooding her senses. delicate frame braces itself for whatever may come next, dread stiffening bone, when she’s roughly cuffed on the back of her head & released, careening forward onto the ground. she lands with a smack, palms & knees bearing the impact.

“that’s fer leavin’ me —”

one large grubby hand jerks her up by her hair, pulling a strangled cry from the girl. now she sees the face of this spirit – distorted by anger, seemingly eaten in places by the vermin of the house. he wears a puke-stained shirt & stands so big, a hulking terror in both life & death.

an open-handed slap to freckled face disrupts her thoughts, rattling her skull.

“i-i — s-sir, i … i’m n-not —”

“shut up, you lyin’ bitch! that w’s fer lettin’ me die.”

“bu - b-but i —”

putrid hand clamps around her jaw, squeezing just tight enough to be a warning. annette closes her eyes, hoping the man at least kills her quickly.

he instead begins ranting.

his drunken ramblings are lost on the medium, interjected only with hits or shakes. he says something about losing a job, about ava’s family, something about children, all half-intelligible. he interrupts himself every so often to toss the girl to the floor, stomping at her while screaming for her to listen. he manages to catch her once or twice with his feet, though she’s hardly aware. she is far away. her mind is somewhat safer, imagining her small nook of her attic. the spirit continues to shout, striking the living girl when deemed necessary.

one sharp hit — large knuckles to fragile cheekbone, jolting her back into the present — elicits a soft whimper of a response.

“i-i … m’n-n—” she can hardly speak, her stutter working in distorted tandem with her busted, swollen lip. annette figures she must be crying, though she can’t tell. her weak attempts at speech are clipped short by two hands clamping viciously around her throat, the force pushing her harshly again a moldy wall.

“y’think i wanna hear one goddamn word outta yer mouth? shove those fuckin’ excuses aside. yer a coward! a weak, pathetic little bitch! f’you couldn’ handle me, y’shouldn’t’ve married me!”

his grip was growing tighter. it’d leave bruises, she’s sure. thin hands & short nails scrabble at the half-there hands, hoping to loosen the vice grip on her throat. the dead man continues shouting, his voice louder & the louder as his hands tighten, thumbs digging into her pulse points. the volley of foul insults never stops, even when the pressure on her neck vanishes & she collapses to the floor.

the voice, now disembodied, feels almost inside her ears, screaming obscenities at ava, who would never hear them. the small, somehow still-living girl shakily climbs to her feet, favoring one side greatly. her right ankle, clearly a victim of his stomping fits, is bulbous & a sickeningly dark purple. her every breath wheezes, but she limps out of the now-empty doorframe. his voices still screams in her mind for months.

she wears scarves to hide the slow-to-fade handprints round her throat.

she wraps her ankle.

she wakes in the night, screaming and clutching her chest.

& as always, she tells no one.

[5sos-saucyy]

————

You made Louis nervous, in a way he didn’t understand. Usually he always had something to say, it was hard to get him to shut up really. But with you, it was like he magically turned mute. When he first saw you, you were just standing there, watching him play piano. You were so quiet, he didn’t even realise you had come in. When he realised, he froze, there was just something about your stare. Your eyes. God he loved them. Then when you spoke, he swore he felt his heartbeat speed up ten times faster, for a second, he didn’t really process what you said.

“You’re really good.”

His cheeks went up into flames, no one’s ever actually complimented him on his piano skills, or on anything really. But he sat frozen, still in a daze.

“Um.. hello?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, i just- i- im sorry, thank you.”

And when you smiled at him. God, he thought you were so beautiful when you smiled, he felt lucky, out of all people, you were smiling at HIM? LOUIS? He thought he was going crazy.

————

“It’s unbelievable how you get him so shy and quiet.” Violet laughed,

“I don’t understand, usually we can’t get him to shutup.” Second Ruby, southern accent strong.

“I’m just special.” You said matter of factly.

“You are special…” finally spoke up Louis.

“Don’t make me puke.” Violet rolled her eyes saying so.

She got up, walked away making puking sounds.

“Me too,” the redhead followed.

“Guess it’s just me and you then.” You turned to Louis with a smirk. Seeing him shy away and shrink in the spot made you wanna laugh out loud. The power you had over him was impeccable. He didn’t seem to mind either.

“You’re so cute, you know that?”

He blushed, hiding his face in his freckled hands.

“Shut up..” he managed to muffle.

Your smirk just turned into a wide Cheshire Cat smile. You sat up, climbing onto his lap, knowing it would make him even more flustered. Anytime you touched him, in any way, goosebumps would just spread up his arms. Blush would spread up through his neck to his face, to the tip of his ears. It made your heart melt seeing the affect you had on him.

He stuffed his lit face into your neck, hiding it from you.

“You’re so evil.” He mumbled, his lips moving against your neck.

You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you.

“I hate you..” he muttered.

“Do you thoughh” you giggled.

Slowly leaning in closer, he wrapped his arms around your face, looking like a touch starved puppy dog. Soon, your lips met. He made a little noise that sounded like relief. It made you giggle. You both smiled into the kiss.

————

Louis didn’t know what he was getting into the day he met you. But being with you, you were full of adventure and mystery. You lit something in him that he didn’t know was there before, but he was thankful. Because before you, it always felt like there was just something there, cold. But then there was you, and that cold spot within him lit up with warmth.

Yeah, the world ended, and he went through a lot to get to where he is now, but he’s never been happier.

The world may have ended, but he wouldn’t want to be with anyone else in the end of the world.

————

Written by muah

-Barnie.

[littleragondin]

I've been tagged by @silverquillsideas thank you!

RULES: bold the ones that are true and tag 15 people to do it.

appearance

Blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

I had purple, pink, then blue hair for a while. I miss it, actually. I have a jaw too small for all my teeth so I had to wear braces (and a retainer, before and after). I got some form of metal contraption in my mouth between 12 and 16 (which uh, sounds terrible written down lol).

hobbies and talents

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks // I can do a handstand

I love music but I never managed to sit down and learn an instrument (tho I own a ukulele I *will* learn to play) - my brothers are the musicians at home. I uh do all the other 'artistic' stuff I guess: I do sing (mostly in tune), I draw and I write.

relationship

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // I have a best friend who I’ve known for ten years // My parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // My crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

I met someone I was friend with online when I was 16, she was significantly older than I was and i ended up spending the day with her & two friends of hers in a flat somewhere in my city I didn't know... it was harmless, if a little boring, but looking back now that was NOT my wisest move 😅.

aesthetic

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season

I am very lucky because I live on an island, so I get to enjoy the beach and the ocean (tho often a bit too cold to swim in ;_;), and it snows every winter so I also get to enjoy my favorite kind of weather.

miscellaneous

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

As a child I was terribly car sick (can't be in a car more than 10 minutes without puking kind of sick), and the only way to avoid it was to sleep. So while I can now read in the car, I still automatically starts feeling a little sleepy in cars.

Ok not sure I have fifteen people to tag but if you feel like it (and haven't been tagged yet), I'll tag @scienceoftheidiot @sauvechouris @howdydowdy @benkaaoi @troubled-mind and @fandomfairyuniverse

[hannahhook7744]

Well… You Weren’t Gonna Do It!;

Summary: Prince Lucas Larson Tremaine-Westergaard of the Southern Isles is either the best wingman ever or the worst. It all depends on who you ask. Hannah wasn't sure which she agreed with more. Author's Note: Hannah, Skia, and Luke are 16. Haul is 18. This is during their time running the circus. Trigger warnings; Anxiety, forcing someone out of their comfort zone, could be seen as dissociation, mention of barf, murderous thoughts, etc.

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

Her hands were sweaty. 

Her throat felt dry.

And her heart was racing as her mind continued to run a mile a minute, forcing her to think of EVERYTHING that could go. 

Hannah didn't want to do this anymore.

Didn't want to ask Haul out anymore. 

She wished she had never suggested Luke come with her and make sure she did it. No matter what excuse she came up with or how nervous she got. Which she always did. 

It was a dumb idea.

A dumb, dumb, dumb idea that was gonna ruin a friendship of three years when it inevitably went wrong.

Her arms and legs felt heavy, as if she was swimming through molasses. 

Hannah was sure that if it wasn't for Luke quite literally pushing her forward she wouldn't have moved very close toward her target at all.

Which was probably one of the reasons she had insisted he come with her this time. 

She was such a fucking moron. 

Why had she thought this was a good idea?

"Hey Haul!" 

What. The. Fuck.  

Why did Luke call out to him?!

WHY?!

'Because otherwise he wouldn't have noticed us' The red head reminded her from inside her head.

'Shut up Luke. No one asked you.'

'It sounded like you were for a minute'

'Skia! You were supposed to be on MY side!'

'Nope. You made your grave, now lie in it.'

'I'm pretty sure that is not the expression but since you're siding with me and not Hannah, I'm gonna let it slide.'

'Shut up and let me panic in peace!'

'Not gonna happen.'

'What he said.'

'I hate both of you.'

'Aw we love you too.'

'I'm going back to my show now before you two give me cooties.'

'Aw come on, Skia. We're 16. We're too old to believe in that shit.'

Skia didn't respond. 

Hannah swallowed thickly, staring straight ahead. Heart racing faster than she thought  was possible when the blonde turned around, his green eyes meeting her brown. 

Haul smiled.

Hannah choked. Eyes watering ever so slightly as she forced a smile. Knowing that he would never smile at her again after she asked him out. 

The idea made her wanna hurl.

'Please don't. I have laundry duty tonight and puke is so gross.'

Hannah debated doing it just to spite him but voted against it. She didn't need to ruin two friendships in one night.

'God, I can hear your angst from the ship. Can you knock it?!' 

'JOHN?! SINCE WHEN THE FUCK CAN YOU HEAR US?!'

'You guys aren't the only ones who can communicate with your minds. Now shut up. I'm trying to nap.'

'We are so talking about this when we get home.'

'No we ain't. '

Haul came jogging over with little Jolene strapped to his chest before Hannah could cut in—looking as if  he was the happiest man in the world and not a high school dropout miles from home working in the circus.

Hair damp with sweat.

Freckles more prominent than usual from his time outside.

He looked incredible and Hannah was sorry that she was about to ruin that.

"Hey guys, what's up? Did something happen back home?"

Hannah opened her mouth and closed it again. Trying to find the strength and the courage to speak. But the words wouldn't form in her brain and wouldn't roll her tongue. Leaving her looking like a gaping fish gasping for water. 

She wished she could just disappear in that moment. 

Or turn back the clock to before she ever thought of this stupid idea and not mention it to anyone. 

But she couldn't. 

Because that wasn't in her magical skill set. Because she just had to suck at EVERYTHING. 

"Hannah digs you and wants to know if you'd like to go on a picnic with her next friday." Luke stated bluntly, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Which was not reassuring at all to her in the moment. 

She was gonna kill him.

She was gonna skin him alive and make him walk the plank into shark infested waters. 

The asshole. 

Haul lit up like a Christmas tree. "What? Seriously?"

That.. was not… what she was expecting. 

 She gaped at him.

There was no way he was actually considering— 

"Yep. Totally serious. She made me come with as moral support so you better say yes because I'm missing out on so much early morning beauty sl–"

"Then yes. I'd love to go on a date with you Hannah." Haul was practically vibrating with excitement. Barely paying Luke any attention as he stared right at her. No doubt making sure she was actually comfortable with this.

Hannah just stared at him dumbfounded, giving him an even weaker smile as her heart slowly stopped racing until it went back to its normal pace.

She couldn't believe this was happening. 

Luke clapped her on the shoulders, no doubt grinning ear to ear like the obnoxious big brother he was. 

"Great. Meet her at the front of the ship at 8pm. You bring the dessert and drinks, and she'll bring the food. Wear beachy clothes."

Hannah should probably step in now but she couldn't find the energy to do so. She felt like she wasn't really there anymore. Like her spirit had left her body and was floating higher and higher until it couldn't breathe. 

Was this really happening?

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

Hannah didn't find the strength to speak again until she and Luke were back in her room—him leading her towards her bed. 

Her limbs still feeling too heavy to move.

When had they split off from Haul? 

She didn't remember doing so.

She didn't remember walking to the ship. 

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Haul had said yes.

Thanks to Luke.

Without her having even said a word…

"Wait, did you just ask Haul out for me?"

Her words were quiet. Her eyelids heavy.

She felt so, so tired.

Luke rolled his eyes. 

"Well SOMEONE had to do it. You clearly weren't. "

"I'm gonna fist fight you in the parking lot. "

She threatened weakly, without any heat behind her words.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Just go to bed. You worked yourself up again."

She was asleep before she could even think of a retort.

Her head full of dreams of her upcoming date and Haul. 

[teddyniffler]

Chapter 25: Sebastian

Daily Prophet March 1892

St Mungos issues plea to young wizard to return to their care.

The Wizarding World has been asked by leading healers at St Mungos to look out for a youth who left the hospital without being formally discharged. Sebastian Sallow, previously mentioned in this publication, was falsely charged and sent to Azkaban, is said to be in a condition described as ‘In need of care’ and should be returned to St Mungos if found. St Mungos are unsure of the location of the youth, he is unable to walk long distances and it’s unsure how he managed to leave the hospital. After extensive checks of the hospital and local areas, it is clear Sallow was either taken against his will or crawled out in confusion.

‘”Sebastian Sallow is a very poorly wizard, it is vital he is returned to St Mungos. He is not a threat to wizardkind, however after prolonged exposure to Dementors, it is likely he could draw attention from Muggles or hurt himself in other ways. We ask the Magical Community to keep a watch for him, Sallow is still an underaged wizard with no family. It is likely he is confused or afraid, and underage wizards can be unpredictable with their powers under such stress, therefore we ask any witch or wizard who finds him not to touch him, just stay with him and alert St Mungos at once”’.

“I FOUND HIM!” Came a high pitch squeal right near Sebastian’s ear, making him wince.

“Tessie, what have we told you about how you are meant to behave around Sebastian? Calm and quiet, you’ve been told many times.” Mr Weasley said to his daughter, moving her away from Sebastian who was currently laying on the couch in the Weasey’s house with his head resting on a pillow, watching the fire flickering in the gate.

“It’s – fine.” Sebastian said, watching the flames dance. Garreth’s little sister was just like her older brother, loud and random, with bright red hair and brown eyes, with so many freckles she made Sebastian’s look lacklustre in comparison.

“But it is true father, look he’s right here. They are looking for him, and I found him on our couch. I found him! It was the easiest game of hide and seek I’ve ever played. Do I get sweets now?”

“No Tessie.” Her mother answered. "You've had too many sweets."

He was brought down from his room each morning if he wished it, Garreth’s little sister would try rubbing his back so he didn’t ‘puke’ after his breakfast. Life in the Weasley household was rather interesting, letters arrived from Hogwarts fairly frequent, both from Garreth and about Garreth.

- Often his self-experimental potions going wrong in Sharp’s class.

Garreth didn’t know Sebastian was staying in his family home, so it was odd to hear Garreth’s letters to his parents about going ons at Hogwarts when he fully believed they would never be heard. It was amazing to hear his sharp thoughts about his fellow classmates.

Leander Prewitt had been facing a lot of hexes at school lately with Natty challenging anybody who targeted him, often at the top of her voice too.

Garreth was wondering if it would be gentlemanly to offer Leander some of his ‘Protection Elixir’ or would that be too obvious that Garreth was simply hoping to cash in on Leander’s misfortune for being a jerk and a traitor to the school. Sebastian's interest had peaked at once, but Garreth's letter had said no more, nor indicated why he had said that.

Mr Weasley had written back to him and informed his son, under no circumstances, was he to join in with the targeting of this Prewitt boy.

Other owls were from Professor Weasley, informing them that Garreth had yet another detention to go with his last one.

Around late morning, the tiredness crept back into Sebastian and he found himself dozing off to sleep on the couch to the sounds of Tessie’s home education. She was learning basic skills such as reading and writing, and asking her parents from time to time for help with a word. Ever so often his eyes would open again before closing to the gentle ticks of a clock and the crackle of the flames.

“- It’s not like he will be going outside any time soon, so its fine. They don’t know where he is and by The Prophet they are mostly looking around London, that’s on the other side of the country to us. He will be of age soon, Matilda believes that’s why they’ve issued this now, once he’s of age the trace breaks and they won’t ever find him. The Gaunts must be desperate to get him, I’m sure they are hoping he will do magic right now and be found. He can do magic here, the Trace can’t tell who is was and Tessie’s always using childhood magic. He’s well hidden here –“

Sebastian tried to force his brain to focus. The paper. They had put a notice on the front page, no doubt the Gaunts were forcing St Mungos to find him. Anne mentioned Ominis’ father taking an interest in Sebastian. He didn’t know why, he had never met Ominis’ father before, but he knew about them, they were not the family to mess around with.

Sebastian could hear the conversations fading out again as sleep took him once more, but this time, a sensation felt like his whole body had tipped sidewards. He jumped up, his eyes open, hands gripping the couch.

“I think he’s gonna puke” Tessie said to her parents, pointing at Sebastian.

“He’s not.” Mrs Weasley said, placing her hands around Sebastian’s ribs and easing him back down, moving his hair away from his eyes with her hand and moving the dressing robe closer around him. “He’s just a little startled. This is why we have to be gentle with him.”

Her hands were so soft on his face, he was reminded of his own mother, his eyes closed again.

There was so much here to distract him at the Burrow from feeling sick, one morning the butter dish ran away with the toast rack, both never to be seen again; Mr Weasley spent a full morning preparing a Howler for Garreth at Hogwarts for ‘accidently’ handing Leander a tonic which went wrong.

Sebastian found he was almost laughing here. Almost.

Professor Weasley had somehow got his items back from St Mungos, he had no idea how, but he knew her to be a gifted witch, but he was very happy to see his few possessions, less happy to see all the chocolate she brought.

“You still need your medicine.” She had told him, as she handed her brother the basket full of chocolate for Sebastian. Often Tessie would creep into his room as she knew Sebastian would let her eat as much chocolate as she wanted while he slept or read his book. He had quickly become Tessie’s best friend, better than Garreth, even or so she said, within days of the chocolate arriving.

Today was different. Today Mr and Mrs Weasley had baked a little cake with two figures on top.

17

“Happy Birthday.” Mrs Weasley said to him as he crawled down the stairs, Mr Weasley rushing over to help him into a chair.

“My- Birthday?” Sebastian said stunned.

“Your sister sent an owl to say she would be coming today. That will be nice of you to be both together on the day you both come of age.”

He looked at the cake, the figures making out 17 were sparkling and shimmering.

‘But I’m 15’ Sebastian thought. ‘I’m 15...’

Tears were pooling in his eyes, he rubbed them away, but more fell in their place, as the Weasley’s smiles faded slightly.

“It’s ok” Mrs Weasley said, handing Sebastian a tissue.

“Why’s he crying?” Tessie asked her father.

“It’s just hard for him, let’s leave him be for a moment.”

Sebastian kept looking at the 17. He couldn’t even remember turning sixteen, he had done so in the custody of the Ministry of Magic, awaiting trial. He had spent weeks in their cells down near the courtrooms as evidence against him was collected before his trial. His trial had lasted a long time too, watching his sister, his new friend and Ominis all testifying against him. He could remember that, but his birthday had passed without him knowing what day was which, he didn’t know which day he had gone from being fifteen years of age to sixteen, to him it was like it had never happened. When he could finally think after those long months in Azkaban, his sixteenth year was almost over and now he was seventeen years old? A great weight of loss fell upon him, he didn’t know how to put it into words, but he felt as if somebody had stolen that time of his life.

“We can put this back in the pantry for later if you don’t feel in the mood right now?” Mr Weasley asked. Sebastian nodded, he didn’t want to see that 17 at all.

He couldn’t eat anything that morning, he couldn’t eat lunch. He sat at the table looking at the wood, this was never how he pictured becoming of age.

He always thought they would be a great celebration, with him and Anne counting down to their birthday in the common room with Ominis by their side. Cheering as they became of age together. She was a few minutes older than him and would have rubbed it in that she could use magic outside right now when he could not. Seven minutes would follow and then he would be the same age as her again, both seventeen together.

It took him a little time to feel even slightly cheerful again, even when Anne eventually turned up, looking happier than he had seen her looking in ages, her hands filled with gifts for him, her smile left her face though when she seen him looking so downbeat.

“Are you okay Sebastian?” She asked him, she had placed all the gifts down by the table, except for one she held still in her hands but she hadn’t handed it to him yet.

He nodded and tried to smile, but he could tell the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Erm, I have this for you.” Anne looked suddenly worried. “I don’t know if you should open it now though. Not if you aren’t okay. It’s- It’s from Uncle Solomon see. It-it came by Owl Post, he- he had put an order in for this day.”

Her voice broke and she stopped looking at Sebastian, the Weasley’s suddenly took that as their que to do anything other than be near the twins. Mr and Mrs Weasley kept glancing over at them both as Sebastian looked in dread at the parcel in Anne’s hands.

“Uncle?” He asked.

Anne nodded. “I got one too.”

She raised her hand and took a chain from around her neck. It was beautiful, shinny metal formed into a flower, a shiny pale purple stone inlaid in the middle.

“It’s goblin made. It must have- these are so expensive.”

She put it back into her robes and sat quietly.

“I think I know what yours is.” She said. “You’re seventeen, we all know what wizards get when they turn seventeen. I don’t know when he put this order in, he never did it in front of me, so it may have been from a few years ago, they take time to make-“

Sebastian glanced at her, she was now reflecting him perfectly, blinking a lot while trying not to show how much it was hurting her. Not the birthday neither of them expected.

The cake came back out, this time without the ‘17’ sign and cut up slightly away from the twins. There were plates placed down in front of them, Sebastian’s cut into small manageable pieces for him. He placed some into his mouth, it was still nice to eat, even if he didn’t feel seventeen right now. He glanced at Anne, she still looked the same as she did when they were 15 right? She didn’t, she looked ill, he remembered her as a 14 year old, but that horrified him more when he noticed her bone structure was more noticeable now, her face less round. He wondered how he had changed, there were mirrors in this house, he had looked at himself a few times. All he noticed about himself was his wavy hair was slightly longer, he was more skinnier and his eyes had darkened in more ways than one. His normal brown eyes looked duller and the skin around them darker. He looked haunted, he had seen and experienced too much in Azkaban, yet there was still a look of youth around him. A shadow of the old Sebastian.

He put down his fork after just three mouthfuls. He wanted to be in bed, but not because he was tired. He wanted this day to end, he wanted to just go see the moon in the sky, to wake tomorrow on a day that wasn’t his birthday to remind him of all he had missed.

Anne took his hand under the table.

“Next year will be better, promise” She said once the Weasleys had started cleaning up. He nodded.

“I’m going to bed now.” He said.

“Okay. Shall I come visit you tomorrow too?” He nodded. He would like that.

He hugged Anne and motioned to Mr Weasley that he was ready to be taken to his room.

Anne stayed downstairs for a little while after he went to bed, it was still early in the evening, he didn’t know what they were talking about, he imagined Hogwarts, Garreth, Professor Weasley, anything really. The Weasleys were lovely people who made anybody welcome in their home, even Uncle-Murdering-Teenagers, although they didn’t know that.

Sebastian laid on his bed, the parcel from Solomon resting on his knee as he curled up tightly. He should open it. It was a watch, he knew for certain, his own mother and father should have been the ones giving him this. The gift you give male adult wizards, but they weren’t here anymore, so Uncle Solomon had planned to present it to Sebastian in their place.

Now Uncle Solomon wasn’t here either.

The moon had come up, Anne left, he heard her disapparating outside the house as she left. Tessie was sent to bed, she went back down after an hour and was brought back up to her room, then eventually Mr and Mrs Weasley went to bed. Sebastian was still looking at the parcel. He had so far picked a little paper off, but pure guilt stopped him going any further.

It was a box for sure, the perfect side to hold a watch -

He didn’t want to open it and see the gift a man he had killed in cold blood had picked out for him, one as expensive as Anne’s, fully expecting to be there for when his nephew opened it. No doubt Solomon expected either Sebastian to receive the gift at Hogwarts and then come for a visit with Anne, or for the twins to turn up at his home after classes.

He moved the parcel to the bed side table, he would open it, but when the time was right. He needed to make peace with his uncle’s ghost before he could open his gift, he wasn’t in the right headspace to inflict more torment upon himself that night.

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

I woke up this morning with this fic in mind: a non-explicit yet angsty look at how bad Simon and Agatha's first time was for both of them, from her POV. I don't ever want to explore this from Simon's POV tbh (too much!) and Agatha's voice comes easier to me (as someone who remembers being a depressed, emotionally-detached teenage jerk too lol). I want to share it here because it's short, and I don't super like the idea of this being my only published fic in ao3 for this fandom.

I do have a snowbaz AU fic "in the works" (very loosely based on the princess bride, with Baz as princess buttercup, Lamb as the Evil King who wants to marry him while planning a little murder, Simon as the hero, Agatha as a shapeshifting leopard, Penny has a crystal ball, and Shepard is just very excited to be here). I'm not planning this to be particularly long, but I'm also not sure I'll finish it, to be honest. The first paragraph is practically the same as the introduction in the movie, and it deviates more strongly from there.

Baz was raised by a wealthy family in the strangely gothic Pitch Manor. His favorite pastimes were reading and tormenting the golden boy who worked in the local bakery. His name was Simon, but he never called him that. Nothing gave Baz as much pleasure as ordering Simon around, purposely stalling–he often changed his mind just when Simon was about to charge him. Most of all, he enjoyed watching his ordinary blue eyes flash while his annoyance colored his lovely, freckled cheeks.

Anyway, fic under the cut

My thighs are burning. I choose to focus on that, instead of everything else. It’s the most familiar discomfort right now–years of horse riding has made me no stranger to soreness in my legs, in my lower back, in my hips. It’s normal for the body to hurt, when you put it through something it’s completely unused to. I’ve heard that with guitar players, their fingers really hurt when they just get started. But they push through the pain, they keep practicing until it doesn't hurt anymore. Until the skin in their fingertips hardens, until playing becomes so much easier. I think they might have that in common with violin players, or to anyone who plays a string instrument. It hurts, but when they play, the sound is so beautiful. I’ve hear that sound in Watford, a sad sound, but soul stirring. Feeling pain is much better than feeling nothing at all, I think. I picture myself riding my horse, pushing through the pain while I get better and better. Until it becomes freer–the wind, the height, the speed making me feel like I’m on top of the world. I love that feeling. It’s a thrill unlike anything else.  

I push through now, through the pain. It’ll get better and better, I say to myself. I keep hoping for that thrill that never comes. I push through, and then I’m wincing, a particularly sharp pain–like being stabbed with a needle–makes me stop for a second. Just a second. I think about moving again, but something is wrong. It’s too silent. How long has it been silent? Is it only silent now? Or has it been silent for a while, my head so far away that I didn’t notice?  

I open my eyes. I look down, and my blood turns cold. He’s pale. He’s very, very pale. His eyes are glassy, the shades of blue like ice. Suddenly I’m reminded of a much younger Simon, scrawny and shaky, coming back from a mission with his body covered in blood. So much blood. I remember fighting really hard against the urge to puke, while my mind keep screaming what the hell?! whose blood is that?! He had a look in his eyes then, one that made me wonder if he’s really here, if he really came back. It took hours for him to look normal again, for him to give us that boyish grin–as if nothing was fucking wrong. He has that look in his eyes again. Like he’s not here at all. I have stopped moving. I get off him, trying to ignore the coldness. He’s not reacting.

“Simon?” I try. I touch his arm, I try to shake him, but he’s not fucking reacting at all. 

Fuck. I really don’t want to touch him again. I thought he was just nervous, who wouldn’t be? I thought I was ready. He said yes when I asked him, but he’s always saying yes, isn’t he? If I asked him to jump through the window, he would fucking jump. I thought I had this. I’ve done my research. It’s all Mindy would take about lately, I thought I had enough tips. I thought I could calm him down, rubbing his arms and kissing his chest. He didn’t really touch me much, but that was fine. I didn’t really want to touch him much either. It was all so mechanical, figuring out how to get it done, but I thought that was fine too. That it was something you tolerate before you can get on to the main event–when you’re supposed to feel all the sparks, when you’re supposed to see the stars or something. 

My eyes are burning. Shit.

I squeeze one of his hands, hard. I’m louder this time, and my voice sounds firm. “Simon” 

Finally, he looks at me. He looks disoriented. It takes a couple of seconds for him to say anything. “Did you– did we–”

“It was fine” I cut him off. I’m not holding his hand anymore. “It’s fine” 

It’s not fucking fine. But I don’t want to tell him that. I don’t want him to feel bad. I don’t want him to shut down again. 

“It was fine” he repeats, unsure. 

“Yeah. It’s ok, first times are like this” Like hell. 

I can’t be here anymore. Suddenly, I need to get as far away from him as humanly possible. I can’t bear to look at him. I explain that I need to pee and take a shower. He understands. As I walk away from him (I have to force myself not to run) I tell him to get some sleep. I don’t look back. 

When I’m in the bathroom, I take off my bra, feeling ridiculous. I’m not sure why I didn’t want to take it off before, why it felt wrong. It’s fine if my boyfriend can see my pussy, but I draw the line at having him look at my bouncing tits? I scoff. Except he wasn’t really looking, wasn’t he. I step under the shower, hoping the scalding water can chase away the coldness in my chest, the pit in my stomach. Suddenly, I’m angry at him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Doesn’t he like me? Doesn’t he think I’m beautiful? 

He’s always told me that, how pretty I am. Like I’m the queen and he’s my own portable fucking magical mirror, always ready to tell me I’m the fairest in the land. Goddamn it, why am I picturing myself as an evil queen now? This isn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to hurt him. Shit. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Aren’t boys supposed to want this? Isn’t this supposed to be the one thing they all want the most? The thing they can’t stop thinking about, the thing that renders them all stupid? Mindy’s boyfriend was so enthusiastic, she said. She didn’t even had to do much, he took care of her. He made her see stars and all that crap. 

I never looked at Simon and thought that I wanted more. When we kissed, it never felt like it could lead to something else. It never felt like much, really. Pulling away was always so quick, so easy. He has never tried anything with me. Never pushed for me. His touch has never wandered. It has never lingered. All that was fine with me, but he’s still a boy, isn’t he? I’ve gotten tired of the nothingness. I just wanted to see stars. I wanted to feel something, for once.   

Damn it. My pussy hurts. Sex is so overrated–all those movies can suck it. I don’t think I can do this again…    

The next morning, when Simon sees me, he smiles. Like nothing is fucking wrong. I don’t know how he always does it, how he can just go along like absolutely nothing happened, but I don’t want to feel like this anymore. This unwanted. This embarrassed. Like I did something wrong. I was wrong. Feeling nothing is better than this. So I decide to follow his example. I bury these feelings, I push the memory out of my mind. I smile back.

[bellysoupset]

This maybe extreme but what about Vince randomly having a vomiting episode and then seizure while at work?

This was meant to be short, but uh... Wendy/Vin have me on a chokehold.

His job might not be heroic like being a doctor or fun like coding or even extremely challenging, like interning at a law firm, but Vince genuinely loved it nonetheless. He was a tour guide to the local museum and, since he had college classes in the morning, he normally ended up with the evening tours.

It didn't pay super well and forced him to work part time during Saturdays too, but he loved it. He got to ramble about his favorite topic - roman history - and to impress the little kids who came in by teaching them tidbits of Latin and woo a bunch of girls and guys and yeah... He loved it.

Not today though.

He wasn't even sure of what was wrong, because he felt fine. A little thirsty, sure, and like his feet weren't quite touching the floor, but otherwise fine.

"Vincenzo!" His manager glared at him, "don't just stand there, your next tour has already started!"

Uh. He could swear he had just gotten his little break.

Vince groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, which felt weirdly stiff and moved to the main entrance. His group was a tall woman - the teacher - with a dozen of 10 years old.

"Hi everyone!" Vince plastered his brightest smile, "are you ready to get started with the tour?"

Somehow, when there were children involved, he always ended up being adopted by a kid. This time it was a shy 10 year old who kept grabbing his shirt.

He smiled, blinking heavily when glancing down to her freckled face made a bunch of colorful worms explode in his vision. Uh... It felt like he was drugged.

"Mr. Vinny?" she called in a little squeaky voice and Vince brushed his hand through her ginger pin straight hair.

"So, as I was saying, Caesars were na..." he paused again. The colorful worms were still in his vision, but most importantly, a hiccup sent a gush of stomach acid up in his throat. Less like puking, more like refl-

He heard a yell, a childish scream and then the floor came rushing down towards his face.

Vince woke up flat on his back, surrounded by a group of horrified 10 year olds, the teacher from before was on the phone, damn close to hysterics, and his supervisor was crouched down next to him too.

"Vince?" Troy called gently and Vince groaned loudly.

He heard some rushing around now that he was awake. It felt like he couldn't move any of his limbs, not his mouth, not his hands, definitely not his head.

"Vince?" Troy sounded a lot more urgent now and Vince realized he had closed his eyes again.

He forced them open again, "eeeine."

"...What?" Troy's voice trembled dangerously, "oh god, did he have a stroke? Tell them he's not speaking!"

"Oooy," Vince forced out, focusing on his tongue, "T-troy."

"Yes, yes, yes," Troy breathed out in relief, "It's me. Are you okay? What happened?"

"Troy," Vince stressed again, trying to put on his voice just how frantic he was starting to feel, as his throat closed up. He was going to suffocate, "gon'sick."

"What?"

"Gon'be sick," Vince choked out and then acid and his lunch shot up his throat, his stomach violently rejecting it. He coughed, hard and heard more frantic noise, before Troy and the poor teacher rolled him on his side.

Hot, disgusting vomit rushed out of his mouth without him even gagging and forming a small puddle of orange on the floor. Vince coughed, his nose burned from the nearly aspirated sick.

"Shishtishit-" Troy was completely losing his shit, cradling him, even if Vince was pretty much twice his size, "please tell them to hurry!" he cried out to the teacher.

"no'spital."

"Vince, shh-"

"No-" he coughed again, burped up more vomit and finally started to feel his arms and legs again, "I don't need a hospita-"

"Vincenzo," his boss practically spat the word, "you're going to a hospital."

Vince groaned, let his head hang in defeat and shame and tried not to feel even worse as he heard the little children cry out in fear.

By the time he arrived at the hospital, practically manhandled by the paramedics who were having none of his bullshit, Vince was exhausted. His shirt was humid from where the paramedics had cleaned it, after he head grunted and complained about the vomit making him sicker.

His hair was a mess from people running their fingers through his curls, trying to find a bump on his head, and he was sure he looked insane.

To make matters worse, they took him to the university's hospital. He wasn't sure what was the worst outcome: Lucas hearing he was being forced to get an MRI done after a seizure or Jonah finding out he was in his hospital or-

"We have to stop meeting like this, Vin," Wendy scoffed as she walked to the bed he had been practically tied to.

Oh yeah, this was the worst outcome, he thought. He looked disgusting and she looked like she had just floated into the room. Tired, yes, but so beautiful.

"I did my best not to come," he said hoarsely and she snorted.

"Oh yeah, I heard the entire story. The paramedics are furious with you," her smile was easy, gentle, but not overly concerned and it was the first thing to make him actually calm down.

"...Did they tell you what happened?"

"Vince, there are a dozen children wailing in my waiting room, a man who had to be given tranquilizers to chill the fuck down and a woman who's pretty much in shock," Wendy raised her eyebrows, "I think I know what happened by now. The question is, do you?"

He cringed at the image she was picturing and nodded gingerly, "I passed out-"

"You had a seizure," she corrected him immediately and Vince ignored her.

"And then I threw up everywhere."

"Happens when you have a seizure for the first time," she shrugged, moving closer, "were you feeling anything before?"

"No," Vince shook his head and then regretted it when it made the room twirl. He waited until Wendy became just one again, instead of two, "...no. Just thirsty."

"And dizzy? Like you are now?" she asked, jolting something down on his file.

"No. Just thirsty and a little... Fuzzy."

"Uhm," Wendy looked up, her hazel eyes piercing on his, "have you ever had a seizure before?"

"Nope."

"Someone in your family? Dad? Mom?"

"Nope," Vince pouted, "I'm fine."

"That's for me to say, not you," she scoffed, then sighed and put her file down, moving closer and pushing his hair back, "I'm glad you're alright."

"I'm fine," he stressed and Wendy rolled her eyes, opening a smile.

"We'll see when your MRI comes back clean."

"It's going to be clean, because I'm fine," he stressed, before pausing, "did you- Does Jonah know I'm here?"

"Nope. You're my patient, I can't tell him anything you don't want him to know," she bit down her lip, "...you're a tough guy," Wendy said slowly, less like she was trying to comfort him and more herself, "you'll be fine."

"I know," Vince said valiantly, but listening to the sudden change in her tone, he felt a lot less invincible. He hated the fact he was the cause her voice wavered just slightly at the end.

Wendy forced another smile, squeeze his hand and pulled back, "alright, I'm going to call the nurses to wheel you to MRI."

Vince was twitching nervously as the nurses - Jess and Chris, who were all well humored and chatty, something he felt was very purposeful on Wendy's part - wheeled him into the MRI center.

"I'm going to put ear protectors on you, alright Vince?" said Chris, holding two spongey ear protectors. Vince gulped down, much more panicked than before.

"Uhm- What if... What if I get another one? In there?" he pointed the tub. The prospect of being trapped inside that thing made him panic.

"I'm going to be here the entire time," Jess promised, squeezing his arm, "if you feel anything, just say it and we'll pull you out immediately."

"O-okay..." he really wanted the people whom he actually trusted with him. He glanced up, to the MRI station, separated from the rest of the chamber by a black glass. Wondered if Wendy was inside, "is We- Dr. Marshall there? Can she see me?"

"Yes," Jessica nodded, reaching to remove his silver cross and Vince jerked away from her. He wasn't particularly superstitious, but this had been gifted to him by his bisnonna and he wore it always, "Vince, you can't go in with metals-"

"I..." Vince hesitated, then undid the clasp and clutched the necklace in his fist, "please, just be fast."

"It'll be fast," Jess promised, but he was sure she promised that to everyone.

Vince tried, really hard, not to panic inside that goddamn box. He really didn't want to get all worked up again, specially not when he wasn't feeling his best, but the experience was nerve wrecking.

By the time they pulled him out, he had tears clinging to his long lashes and was sucking in shallow breaths, practically hyperventilating.

"Hey..." Wendy said softly, stepping into the room, "you did amazing."

"Don't-" he muffled a queasy burp on his hand, "don't baby me."

She sighed, moving closer and planting a hand on his back, "stop pushing me away," Wendy said quietly, "I know it's scary, trust me."

"You've done one of these before?" Vince asked bitterly, though he leaned into her touch.

"More often than you think," Wendy sighed, running her nails over his back, slowly getting him to relax, "no we just wait until it's pri-"

"Can't you just tell me?" Vince asked in a pitiful voice, "I'm sick, I'm worried, I'm scared, please just fucking tell me."

She pouted, "I need to take it to my supervis-"

"Wendy," he grabbed her hand, "please."

"It's clear," she said in a little voice, "I could be wrong!" she jumped when he opened a big, relieved smile, "I still need for my supervisor to check, Vince-"

"But..."

"...But I think it's all clear. Honestly, I think you might've caught some infection, which caused the seizure. We're gonna ask for your blood work."

He wrinkled his nose at being poked, but the relief was too strong, "I'm so happy, I could kiss you."

"Not with that puke breath you won't," she retorted immediately, cheeks a delicious shade of pink that reminded him of strawberry ice cream and Vince's heart raced for a completely different reason.

"If it turns out I'm not dying," he said slowly, much more confident now, "dinner tomorrow?"

"Only if it turns out you're not dying," Wendy squinted at him, "so you better not be."

He smiled, a huge, cheeks-painful smile, "deal."

[mandalorianbrainweasel]

Corr gets cornered by some members of his old battalion who are very, very unhappy with his new position.

(warnings for canon typical violence, dehumanization)

It comes out of nowhere.

Corr gets body checked into the alley wall, his head bouncing on the stone and his vision swimming with white and familiar paint. The colour, anyways. None of the markings are familiar. All of the familiar markings are dead and gone, after all.

“This is gonna suck,” he mutters to himself and he thrashes as he’s surrounded. Get out, get away.

“Think you’re too good for us now, huh?” familiar voices jeer. “Hanging out with the karking commandos, now, eh?”

He feels the familiar tug of his prosthetic arms being dragged behind his back and he kicks out, getting one of these idiots in the cod’ hard enough he hears the duraplast crack under his boot. His arms are released, but he can’t bring them forward again, and can’t even pull them apart very far. “The kark did you dumbasses do?” he snarls.

“Well you’re part clanker now anyway, we figured we might as well use something more familiar,” one particularly nasty one says. He vaguely recognizes the shapes of his paint, now that he thinks about it. That guy was already nasty to Corr’s squad before.

“Wired them together,” a more laconic brother drawls.

Well. That’s going to be annoying as hell later.

Then one of them socks him in the stomach.

He doubles over, groaning and winded and wanting to puke. The karking hell.

“Do you really think some idiot like you is going to last in the commandos?” the nasty one asks. “You got three good men killed. They’re just using you.”

“No shit,” Corr wheezes. “Better than rotting away at a desk job though.”

“You should have, for what you did,” another brother half-squeaks. Young, armour still mostly white.

They dragged a shiny into this with them.

Corr rolls his eyes and grunts as another fist lands against his skin.

Someone clears their throat and the CTs go quiet and still, but Corr is just swaying and dizzy. “I don’t think you kids would want me calling one of the Jedi over here, now would you?” a heavily accented voice says. Familiar accent, Corr thinks, but he can’t quite place it except that it’s somewhere near the commandos’ Mandos. “I know High General Zey is only about a block away.”

“Who the hell are you?” the nasty one snarls, spinning around. He sounds scared.

Corr leans back against the brick of the alley. His shoulders hurt from being pulled back.

“A contractor.” There’s a very distinct pause. “Get out of here.”

They run, a thundering noise that shakes Corr up, and when he looks up it’s gold paint. For one long, terrifying moment, he thinks it’s Skirata, but there’s no limp as the Mando comes toward him and the hands on his shoulders are gentle.

“Turn around, let me get you free,” the Mando says, then he curses—unfamiliar words but a familiar tone—when Corr obliges. “Seriously? Wire?”

There’s a rustling, a clicking, then a sharp snap and the tension holding Corr’s arms together is gone. He brings them back around and grimaces, there’s still wire all through the insides of the metal skeleton of his bare prosthetic arms. It’ll take ages to get it all out to prevent it from gumming up the circuitry.

“Come on, ad’ika,” the Mando says, taking him by the shoulders. “Let me get you somewhere safe to check those hits.”

He ends up back in the old safe house, sat on a couch with the Mando taking off his helmet and revealing pale ginger hair and a freckled face, younger than Sergeant Skirata and Vau but older than General Tur-Mukan and Commander Jusik. This Mando’s apparently a medic, or maybe even a doctor, from the bag of tricks he has on him. Eventually, all the wire is gone and bruises and abrasions are treated. No broken bones, thank kark.

The Mando hums as he finishes up, patting his shoulder. “You can rest now,” he says, almost gently, and Corr listens. He falls asleep on the couch and doesn’t wake up until hours later, when a frantic Mereel finally shows up for him.

[takeyourpillsbitchh]

Ahhh, this weeks @galladrabbles prompt was so exciting for me, @iansfreckles loooove the prompt ⚡️lightening⚡️! Like so many of these prompts it can be interpreted in so many ways. I can’t wait to see what everyone else offers up, here’s mine💛

very loosely connected to this prompts I wrote three days ago:)

***

Rain was slapping against the roof, lightning flashing bright through the windows and loud, booming thunder shook the house. But it was no match for the pounding in Mickey's chest.

“I can’t find her, Ian,” Mickey desperately reached for his husband. “I can’t—”

“Mickey, she’s here okay? She wouldn’t leave this house,” Ian promised, kissing his husband's forehead. “Go check upstairs, I’ll check the garage.”

Mickey ran up the stairs. Throwing open the door to their room. Pulling the covers back on their bed, looking under it, checking their joined bathroom feeling like he was going to puke.

“Evie?!” He called out, breathless. “Evelyn!”

A loud clap of thunder.

The lights flicker.

A whimper.

And Mickey was flying towards their closet. Pulling the doors open, letting out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

“Storm scary, daddy,” She whispered, looking up at him with big green eyes.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Mickey whispered, gathering her in his arms and holding her tight, pressing a kiss to her freckled cheek. “You're okay. Why don’t we go get your dada?”

A head full of bouncy red curls nodded, clinging to his neck as they headed out of the room to find Ian.

[blissyooo]

For The Love Of Weasleys

Part 1: The Burrow

Like the seasons ever so present each time of year, every week before the return to Hogwarts, you would always stay with the Weasleys and the lovely family were ever so kind to tolerate her presence the past few years.

It started four years ago, when a well mannered ginger haired boy with a constellation of light freckles helped carry your luggage into an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express, he opened the doors for you, and like a gentleman uttered the words 'Ladies first' with a smile.

He kindly declined to take up the remaining seats though, and you questioned the integrity of your social skills. After moments of contemplation, you retired to the fact that he was just too much of a social butterfly to stay with one flower – Shame.

The engine rattled, passing by blur of green plains and jagged trees while the seats beside you remained empty and specked with dust. Minutes dragged on and you ended on your tiptoes, reaching for the luggage. You jumped once it clicked open – A zing of lights flew over your head, exploding in loud bright patterns, raining glitter on your face. You coughed at the smell of smoldered embers, fanning away the smoke that hovered close.

What in the bloody wizard is this?

As the chaos bubbled down, you caught your reflection on the glass window pane, hair and skin glittering like spoon and fork, you had half the thought to thank whoever did it, mind wandering to the polite boy when a card placed neatly above the books caught her eyes, written in red ink it said:

Welcome to Hogwarts!

F & G

You smirked and grabbed it before hastily sliding the compartment door out of the way, poking your head out – the same boy in a soft knitted sweater was already there, positioned the same as yourself from two compartments away, grinning like a child on Christmas Day. You gave him a pointed look and he started speaking, "You look quite dazzling, darling"

"I have you to thank for that" Your nose crinckled and you brushed the glitter off the tip.

The boy bowed as if it was a great honor and introduced himself as a Weasley. That rang a bell, your parents had mentioned them before, said that they worked closely with Mr. Weasley back at the Ministry. "And you can call me Fred" He added and motioned for you.

"Y/n Winlore, at your mercy." you raised your hands in surrender and he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. An identical boy popped up right over his head and waved. "And I'm George Weasley, the attractive twin"

You choked down a sneer at his statement and watched amused as the two bickered, pushing each other off the door frame.

"Well, I'll leave you to it" You said in a sing-song voice, retreating back inside when Fred scrambled to peek over his twin, "Wai- See you later!"

"You won't get to later when my suitcase pukes another set of fireworks at my face" You retorted and slid close the door, barely missing his pleasant sounding laugh.

Papers were scattered by your feet and you rolled her eyes, you would've complained to no end but at a single glance at the card in your hand, taking in the scribbled doodle of the twins grinning up at you, you grinned in return.

࿐

Perched up on the headboard of the old bed, legs rested on the window, you flipped through the pages of the 4th year textbook. Half of everything went right over your head despite your efforts to mirror the dedication of the ever bright witch, Hermione Granger.

Who reads an entire textbook and come out of it with their sanity still intact?

Apparently Hermione Granger and Godric did you need that kind of mind.

A chill entered through the small opening of the glass, and the knitted sweater, courtesy of Mrs. Wealey kept you warm and fuzzy. Cracks of dawn peeked through the clouds, gracing the wheat fields around the Burrow as they swayed with the breeze.

You tossed the textbook and it landed on the stacks of pillows with a soft thud. Sprawled in the bed next to you was a distinct ginger hair - Ginny lay like a starfish, passed out drunk of pumpkin juice, she was strewn over her blanket.

You gingerly leaned down, a hand firm on the wooden headboard and searched for the wand under your pillows, patting around a few tries before you finally caught it.

With a smirk and a genius idea, you muttered a spell.

"Encarceri"

Both ends of the blanket below Ginny floated up, fabric melting together until it left no trace of ever being a separate entity, the blanket warped and narrowed around Ginny, coiling like the squishy things muggles use to keep themselves afloat.

You slapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking from muffled laughter, your grip on the headboard loosening.

THUMP

You yelped, small scream erupting from your throat – In a blink you flailed in the air grasping at nothing, in another you landed face first on the mattress, legs bent up the headboard in an awkward angle, the book uncomfortable on your side.

Damn, karma's a git.

"Wha-" Ginny raised her head from the pillow, eyes half closed, strands of hair stuck on her face.

"Looking great Gin"

Ginny groaned and begrudgingly reached for a pillow, you ducked out of the way only to meet it face first. Great. You resurfaced up the mess of fabric raising a fist in the air for justice. "I'm not the perpetrator!"

The cloud of sleep left her eyes and Ginny tipped her head, snickering. "What happened to you?"

"There was a-" You scrambled back up to the window, stacked pillows now a bulldozed wreck. You braced yourself for the worst, a decapitated head, a stray pixie, a death eater – "Oh."

"Errol" Ginny and you spoke in unison. The owl lay upside-down on the other side of the glass, wings flapped in greeting, stack of letters between his beak, round eyes stared up at you innocently as if he hadn't just crash landed on the window.

"Bloody bird" Ginny mumbled.

"Errol, come on" You said softly, retrieving the letters and ruffled the feathers on his head, the owl jolted up before screeching away to the morning sky.

"Well that was..." You trailed off before glancing at Ginny who attempted to roll away from light, she struggled, blanket held her firmly in place.

"I think I'm stuck?" Ginny's gaze flitted to yours for validation but as realization coiled itself around her, she started to wiggled down off the blanket and that was your cue to book it out of the room.

"Y/n!" Ginny half laughed half sighed as you flung yourself out with the letters in hand.

You made a point to hop over the creaky floorboards, hardly containing a laugh as you passed the stairs leading up Fred and George's room which was silent – but then again it's the only time they are one so might as well keep it that way for a few more minutes.

Clinking dishes and pans and the soft crackle of fire fueled your steps, greeting Mrs. Weasley in her flowery apron while she baked some pastries, the pan beside her sizzling with what smelt like sausages.

Mrs. Weasley looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Morning y/n dear, there's your tea" she motioned for the cups lined up on the table, you picked the coolest one, learning from yesterday where you almost burnt your tongue.

You thanked the lovely woman and plopped down a vacant seat, eagerly emptying half the cup before mentioning the letters, a great cup of tea never comes second.

"Errol arrived with the post Mrs. Weasley" you dropped the identical envelopes on the table, each addressed in green ink, leaving out the part where Errol scared the wits out of you.

Mrs. Weasley wiped her hands and picked one up. "It's from Hogwarts, yours is in here as well, Y/n"

You hummed, downing the last half of  tea before taking one addressed to you. It must be the requirements for this year. Instead of doting on it, you swung off the seat and brought the cup to the sink, flinching slightly when it slipped from your fingers and started washing itself. Like Fred and George, their mother had created a handful of spells herself, you found it quite lovely.

You spun around and asked, "Can I help you with anything, Mrs. Weasley?"

The woman nodded and gave a passing glance upstairs. "Wake everyone up dear, breakfast is almost ready"

Now that's a task worth breathing for.

"On it!" You sprinted back up the flight of stairs, purposely making your presence known with each thud. You had your first target in a split second – The furthest room in the corridor belonging to none other than the Prefect Boy himself, Percy Weasley.

You opened her mouth and raised a fist to knock when the door swung open – your fist froze mid air, pin size away from banging on Percy's face. He was already dressed, clearly the ever diligent child.

"Yes?" He raised a brow, displeased.

"I didn't even get to knock yet."

He swatted your hand away. "You were charging down the corridor like a gigantic nuisance, what do you want?"

You gasped, feigning offense, hand pressed on the door frame for support, "I thought Prefect's are supposed to be nice!"

Percy grabbed the door - "What went wrong with you!" – He slammed it on your face, his deadpan expression the last thing you saw before breaking out in fits laughter. "Breakfast is served!"

You skipped to Ginny and yours shared bedroom, quietly opening the door, the beds were empty, curtains swaying – No Ginny.

You perked up at the sound of shuffling – looked up just in time to see the blanket you gallantly charmed swoop down at you. With a Quidditch inspired reflex, you leaped to your bed, scrambled for the wand and disarmed the enemy. The blanket morphed into its original form and dropped on the floor, summoning Ginny from her closet. "So close!" She whined, picking up the discarded blanket, and place it back her bed.

Ginny sauntered towards you and you slung an arm around the younger Weasley's, guiding her out the room. "Perhaps a hearty breakfast can help?" Ginny's lips curved up in an instant.

"Is that chocolate cake I smell?" The younger girl pointed out, both of you perked up as it wafted through the house. "I'll leave some for you if they take too long!" Ginny scampered down to the kitchen, skipping a few steps. You called after her, before completely retiring to your task, bolting up the final set of stairs.

You landed three knocks on the Twins' door in a fading shade of green expecting one or the other to open up and face yours truly – the resident alarm clock, but as the drowsy fate would have it, no one bothered to welcome you in.

You opened the door a crack, wincing every time it creaked. The two were still tangled in the sheets, Fred was on his stomach, a hand dangling off the edge, hair like a carrot feast for bunnies sticking onto his forehead, his cheeks were lightly flushed, shoulders rising and falling with every soft breath. A smile crept up your lips, chest feeling light – Only when the door slipped from your grasp and ricochet off the wall did you snapped out of your reverie.

Now why did this imp looked like an angel? – Must've passed out drunk from a gallon of polyjuice potion.

George was a different story, like a newborn he was curled up inside his blanket, head poking out, his light snores muffled - It's a wonder how he could breathe inside that thing.

You looked around the room for a weapon of choice to kick them out of dreamland, on the wooden table facing the window, nestled between the books was a quill.

This might be my lucky day

You were upon it in a flash, then tiptoed over between their beds, kneeling down to creep the feather on the side of Fred's face – his nose crinkled as you moved it around, biting the inside of your cheek.

Amusement bubbled in the surface of your composure as his brows pinched together, a pout graced his lips, and like a good friend, you danced the feather around his exposed neck.

It was in your plan to vex him for as long as possible but in a snap - you recoiled as he caught your wrist, his drowsy eyes opened, glinting mischief. "You're in a lot of trouble, darling"

"George!" you screamed.

"Wasthat?" George startles awake, frantically trying to escape his blanket cocoon. Fred glanced over your shoulder and chuckled at his twin's Predicament, watching him carefully, you slowly reached for a pillow,  when he shifted to perch himself up did you shove the striped pillow case over his head. He shot up and you slipped your wrist out of his grasp and skipped out the room, mumbling between laughter that breakfast was ready.

There was one final turn, you rounded the corner and knocked on Ron's door – there was whine before the bed creaked then silence followed.

"Food's ready Ron" You announced through the small crack of the door. Footsteps started and the door swung open revealing a groggy Ron in a bright pajamas that matched his hair. "Come on!"

You beckoned him out and planted both hands on his shoulders – pushing him around like a shopping cart, he begrudgingly went along with it, the boy too drowsy to object.

You made your way downstairs like a mechanical train, a very short one at that when a pair of arms yanked you back, followed by a flicker red hair and a soft whisper "Gotcha" – Before you knew what was coming, you were rolling in the wooden steps laughing your tears out.

[hops-hunny]

Those Bloody Girls

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Beauxbaton!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: “I couldn't sleep soooo

Neville absolutely worshiping his beauxbaton gf but his friends think he's full of shit when he tries to tell them about how fucking gorgeous and fantastic she is. And everytime he tries to introduce her to his friends something goes wrong and his friends end up looking at him like he's crazy cuz he's introducing absolutely nothing but air. And separately she has been accidentally meeting all his friends one on one, helping Ron pick up his books in the hall, cleaning off some soot from Seamus face because he looked rather silly, encouraging harry before one of his quidditch matches/Triwizard trials etc and all the while they have no idea that's Nevilles wonderful gf and they all develop a crush on her never telling each other anything so when they finally meet her it's hilarious 😂

-🦡”

Summary: The request says it all

Warnings: None!

A/N: This was such a fun idea. I loved writing this all hail 🦡 anon.

If there was anything Beauxbaton girl's were known for, it was their beautiful looks. They were graceful and diligent, each one graced with the face of an angel, and Neville just so happened to have the prettiest one. They had met during the summer by a complete chain of accidents resulting in one of the greatest blessings he could've ever asked for. Neville was lucky and he knew it, never letting anyone forget.

"Oh bullshit! You're saying she's got a cute face, nice waist, and she can bake? Ha! I'll believe it when I see it, Nev." Ron snorted, Seamus nodding along with him.

"Yeah you expect us to just believe a girl from Beauxbaton of all places chose you? No offense Nev but Beauxbaton girl's have standards and none of us Hogwarts boys meet em." Seamus said, shrugging as he continued to throw rolled up bits of paper in Dean's hair (who still hadn't noticed.). Neville rolled his eyes in irritation, looking to Harry and Dean as well but for once, they were on the same page as the other two.

"Sorry Nev. It's just, a Beauxbaton girl? And from the way you describe it, the most beautiful one in her year if not school?" Harry said, giving him a sympathetic look. 

"Yeah mate. You've gotta understand where we're coming from." Dean chimed, turning his attention back to the assignment in his lap. Neville groaned, glaring at his friends.

"You guys act like I haven't tried to introduce you to her! Every time I try to you guys go and get yourselves into something stupid or I end up busy. Let's all agree that Friday you will meet her, no matter what." the boys all nodded in agreement, not really thinking much of it. After all, there was no girlfriend but if it'd ease his mind, they'd show up.

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

Ron swore angrily, rolling his eyes in frustration. It was just his luck that he'd drop all his quills and the massive scroll of paper rolling away with his bits of sanity. Normally he'd just collect them and go on with it, not really worrying about time but for once in his god damn life he had made an effort to study for the exam he had next hour and if he was late? All that bloody time would be wasted! However, his worries began to fade as a small manicured (s/c) hand began to gather his quills. His eyes widened as he looked at the girl, mouth gaping.

She had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was an even more vibrant (h/c) in the afternoon sun. Beautiful plush (s/c) thighs (that he'd like to see more from under that little skirt), and not to mention the most beautiful set of (e/c) eyes he had ever seen. But when she smiled? Oh when she smiled, he was hooked. The little emblem on her shirt confirmed his suspicion. Beauxbaton. However what he did miss was the words that were currently leaving her mouth.

"I'm sorry...what?" he asked, causing a giggle to erupt from the girl's mouth. She smiled, handing him the quills that he had dropped.

"I said it's a shame that this happened to you! I hope you aren't too late. I have a free period so I'll carry these to your class for you!" she offered, silence falling over them as he continued to stare at her in awe. His face flushed as she cleared her throat, looking at him expectantly.

"O-oh! Right, yes, thank you. That'd be helpful." He offered her a small smile as he began to walk. The entire time of the walk there, she helped him by quizzing him on the subject and by the time he got there, he felt like he remembered everything!

Everything but asking for her name. He felt like an idiot but for once, it wasn't because of school.

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

Seamus sat at the cauldron, focusing on the ingredients list. His partner had decided from every other time in potions, that he wasn't allowed to touch anything. They had a perfect grade and didn't want it to be ruined from the likes of him. However, he was growing restless. It couldn't be too hard...right? Wrong, so wrong.

He dropped in a few spider legs, stirring counterclockwise like the book had instructed. However, as it turned an angry red and bubbles began to form, he knew that he had screwed up big time. He tried backing away but it was too late, the potion had erupted in a large explosion, black soot coating his face and hair. Everyone in the class turned to look at him, some laughing while some were utterly annoyed. This was such a common thing that it was a miracle when he didn’t blow something up. He flashed Snape a bright smile, ignoring the way the vein on the man’s forehead twitched and juttered in annoyance.

“Class dismissed.” he seethed out. Before he could issue a punishment, Seamus ran off down the hallway ignoring the harsh yells of the potion’s master. He continued to run and run until he accidentally bumped into a group of girls sending him straight to the floor. His face turned rouge with embarrassment as they laughed at his scuffed appearance but a divine voice broke through the laughter.

“Leave him alone guys! You all go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.” she said, pushing her friends to go ahead in the other direction. Seamus looked up, admiring how beautiful they were but especially the (h/c) haired one in the middle of them all. She was a walking sculpture, a painting straight from the louvre. She was..

“Hot.” he blattered out, not even realizing his words. His eyes widened as he stood up clearing his throat. Luckily for him she hadn’t heard him, causing him to look up to the ceiling and give a quick thank to Merlin himself. She looked back at him, frowning slightly as she observed the soot on his freckled face. Her eyes lit up as she reached into the small purse on her shoulder, pulling out a silk fabric.

“Can’t have you going around looking all silly! Come here.” she said, motioning for him to lean down. He did so instantaneously, cheeks turning even more red as she licked the small fabric before beginning to wipe at the mess on his face. It was an action his mother had done multiple times but for some reason, he found this to be far more endearing. Her face was close to his, giving him a good look at the light layer of gloss on her plump lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had ever kissed them before, if she had ever had them wrapped around a-

“All done! I can’t do much for your hair but it’s not that noticeable. I have to get going though, bye!” She said flashing him a smile before walking away. When she was out of sight, he couldn’t help but wonder if that had even happened. Did a beautiful girl really just hold his face and clean it...out of the kindness of her heart? Was it truly possible for someone to look so perfect and act so kind? He didn’t know but he surely did wanna find out. He smirked to himself, standing up straight as he walked down the hall.

“She wants me.”

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

Harry splashed some water on his face, running a shaky hand through his hair. No matter how many times he’d hop on that broom, zooming around in the sky with the intent to win, he always got painstakingly nervous before a match. He observed his appearance, grimacing at the sickly green undertone to his face. Was he going to puke again? Didn’t matter, he didn’t have time. Sighing he walked out the bathroom, sneaking to observe how many people were in the crowd. His eyes began to wander to the Beauxbaton girls, admiring how pretty they were in the stands. However, what he wasn’t prepared for was for a pretty face to walk over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, right?” she asked, a gentle smile on her stunning face. His breath hitched as he felt himself be taken by a new set of nerves.

“R-right. Yeah that’s me. I’m, I’m Harry.” he internally kicked himself. How embarrassing. One of the most lovely girls he had ever seen and here he was, making himself look like a fool. His nerves were soothed some when he heard her laugh, a sound like beautiful Christmas bells.

“I think we already established that.” she said, grinning even more. She patted his shoulder as she looked at him, eyes full of sincerity. “No need to be nervous. I’ve heard you’re one of the best players on the field! Do your best out there! I’m rooting for ya.” she began walking off, flipping her Gryffindor scarf around her shoulder. Whether she meant rooting for him personally or the team didn’t matter. A determined look took his face as he began to make his way to his team. He was going to win this, for her.

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

Friday came around quicker than any of them had expected, not like it mattered to them. They all sat around looking at each other, a shared thought running through most of their heads. As if Neville could hear it, he groaned standing up angrily.

“Guys! I swear she’s real! She’s just running a bit late, she’s horrible with time management. Plus, she’s well known amongst her peers so she’s always getting asked to help with things.” he grumbled, staring at them with disdain. 

“Nev, it’s okay you don’t have to keep lying. We’ll get you a girlfriend since clearly you’re going mad thinking that you have one.” Seamus said, prompting the boy to throw his textbook at the boy which hit his head with a loud thud. They all looked up as peach colored owl flew in, dropping a note into Neville’s hand. The boys set up a bit straighter, unfamiliar with the owl. The boy’s eyes scanned the page, taking in the words before nodding.

“Alright, it seems she wants us to come to her. She’s by the fountain in the courtyard! That’s cute, she forgot she was supposed to come to me.” he chuckled fondly at the thought of his forgetful girlfriend before turning to walk. His friends still sat on the couch, stunned that this girl might actually be real. “Well don’t just sit there, let’s go!”

All of them scrambled up and began to follow their lanky friend, mumbling amongst themselves.

“No way. Do you think she’s real?”

“Well I’ve never seen that owl!”

“This is insane. Okay if she’s real, she definitely can’t be as hot as he said she is.”

“Yeah probably one of the more...unsightly Beauxbaton girls.”

Wrong. Terribly wrong. Th-that was her? It couldn’t be. However, as the girl’s big doe eyes lit up it was slowly becoming a big possibility. And as she ran to him, jumping into his arms, that possibility became reality right in front of their eyes. Neville leaned in kissing the girl, holding her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as she pulled away. Her eyes turned to the group of guys, surprise taking over her face. Neville looked back and forth between her expression and the one of his friends.

“You guys alright?” he asked confusedly, setting the girl back on the ground before pulling her into his side. She eyed them carefully before tilting her head.

“Have we met before?” 

“NO!” they all shouted in unison. They all turned to each other in confusion, stepping away from the happy couple.

“You met her too?!” Harry whisper shouted, eyeing the other two. Ron nodded frantically, unable to respond verbally due to the shock and queasiness overtaking him. The beautiful girl from Wednesday was Neville’s girl? Life was not being fair by putting that bird in his hands.

“Like hell I did! She was practically all over me.” Seamus exclaimed, all of them turning to look at the girl who had a lovesick look on her face as Neville rambled on about something. 

“Okay now that one I doubt. I can’t fucking believe this. I’ve been thinking about her all week.” Ron groaned out, crossing his arms angrily. Harry nodded in agreement, grabbing the flask that Seamus had pulled out taking a big swig of it.

“You’re telling me. I did a lot more than think about her if you know what I mean.” Seamus mumbled, eyeing the girl’s rear.

“Sadly I do and I wish I didn’t.” Harry grimaced as the gruesome image popped up in his head. “Come on, we better head back over before they think something is up.”

“My bunny says she met you all earlier in the week! How come you didn’t tell me?” he questioned, watching as the boys practically drooled over her.

“I dunno sorta...slipped my mind.” Harry trailed off, eyes dragging along her exposed midriff.

“Nah I’ll be honest. Bird was too hot and didn’t get her name. ‘S a shame really.” Seamus shrugged, earning a kick to the knee from Harry. “What?! I know you thought it too. Congrats Longbottom, you’ve got a grade A girl there.”

Neville looked down at the smaller girl, smiling some as she looked away shyly at the kind words she was receiving. 

“Yeah, I do.”