#arthur (trying and failing to keep it together): right yeah okay

[justaz]

merlin being hit with a truth spell or potion or whatever and being so stressed that he’s gonna reveal his magic to arthur only to find that he can’t insult or tease arthur anymore bc every time arthur instigates their banter, merlin starts to go on and on about how arthur makes him so happy and the love he feels for him is immeasurable and how he’d burn the world just to keep him warm

[hellolovers13]

💟I Hope We Never Change💟

Harry/Louis | E | 13k | genderfluid harry, angst, canon compliant, gender dysphoria

“I just wanted to try how it feels.” “The clothes?” Niall asked .Harry nodded. “Is that, that's too weird right, I shouldn't-” “Hey, stop it. I told you already, it's not weird. It's just how you feel. That's okay. You can try whatever you want, okay. And you can always, always talk to me. Remember that.” or Harry is confused about everything, so is Louis. At least they have Niall.

🌱Plant New Seeds🌱

Harry/Louis | T | 2k | meet cute

L: i think i might have a watering ghost. There’s water on that plant and it sure wasn’t me Z: 👻💦 either that or you’re just sleepwalking. Best guess is still the magical plant thing. Lemme know if you find your princess 😘 or Someone was desperately trying to keep Louis' poor houseplant alive.

💞Up on the Roof with a School Girl Crush💞

Harry/Louis | M | 4k | meet cute

Harry was just trying to get some work done and have a quiet night in. He did not expect to become host to a drunken Louis, who had overestimated his Halloween costume's ability to fly.

🚑haunted🚑

Harry/Louis | M | 1k | TW: miscarriage, stillbirth

Before 24 weeks it's considered a miscarriage, not a stillbirth. No matter that he had to go through labour. No matter that he was holding his child in his arms.

🍼fragile line🍼 (second part to haunted)

Harry/Louis | M | 2k | TW: talk of abortion and suicide, mention of previous miscarriage, stillbirth

Now, five different fonts told him the same thing. Pregnant.

🌃Chicago🌃

Harry/Louis | G | 3.5k | getting back together, momrry

They hadn't seen each other in four years, why was Louis still writing songs about Harry? Larry take on the song Chicago

🛏️London🛏️ (second part to Chicago) Harry/Louis | M | 2k | fluff, kid fic, momrry

A lazy morning in bed. Finally home.

👶Glasgow👶 (third part to Chicago) Harry/Louis | T | 2k | fluff, kid fic, momrry

Louis' first moments with his newborn daughter.

🎄Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You)🎄

Harry/Louis | E | 20k | meet cute, christmas fic, genderfluid harry

Turns out, getting snowed in with your not quite One-Night Stand wasn’t actually that bad. But the snow wouldn’t last forever. Was there a chance for love even after the snow had melted?

👄Slow Hands👄

Harry/Niall Harry/Louis | E | 3k | smut, dom louis, sub harry, genderfluid harry

“Wait. So when you say you’re genderfluid, that means sometimes you’re a girl, right?” “Uh, yeah.” “So when I asked what you’d do if you were a girl and you said ‘Niall’. Does that apply now?”

📞Love In Conversation 📞

Harry/Louis | T | 5k | meet cute, baking fails

King Arthur Baking Hotline. Your bread fell flat. Your cookies crumbled. Who do you turn to? The King Arthur Baker's Hotline. or Louis has a severe baking breakdown. Thankfully, he gets help from baking-hotline operator Harry.

❄️love drunk, waiting on a miracle ❄️

Harry/Louis | T | 15.6k | coffeshop au, christmas fic

Harry has a bit of a crush on a customer. Thankfully, the feeling is mutual. These are their first 24 days together.

🍆Pretty Miscalculations🍆 (part one of the Mess Me Up Series)

Harry/Louis | E | 5.2k | dom louis, sub harry, sex toys, nipple play, aftercare

After rudely interrupting Louis’ Christmas shopping, Louis offers Harry a choice and an opportunity to try out his new purchases.

🌶️Hits Different🌶️ (part two of the Mess Me Up Series)

Harry/Louis | E | 4.8k | dom louis, sub harry, spanking, daddy kink

After their one night together Louis had not expected Harry back for more. Turns out he was wrong.

🍼known it all this time (of tiktoks and baby making)🍼

Harry/Louis | E | 1.7k | smut, pregnancy kink, momrry

If Harry doesn't stop sending Louis those videos, who knows what's gonna happen.

👑The Pros and Cons of Breathing👑

Harry/Louis | E | 82k | A/B/O, arranged marriage, historical fantasy, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, trauma

Harry wiped the tears from his cheeks. No. He’d not been raised to give up. He’d find a way to survive this. He might be an omega, but he’d never been weak and he wouldn’t start now. His gaze fell to Louis, who was already asleep, chest rising and falling evenly. Harry would become the perfect omega for him. No matter the disgust he might feel in doing so. It was his duty, after all. or Omega Harry has always known he'd be married off someday. It's to be expected, given his station. So his betrothal to Prince Louis comes as no surprise. While he's nervous about leaving his home, and the life and people he knows, he's still hopeful for a good match and a happy marriage. But when Louis avoids him at all costs, and is downright cruel to him at times, it leaves Harry trying to make sense of his new life alone. Can he find happiness - and a home - even in a broken marriage?

🌷Something Secret🌷 (TPACOB - Companion)

Niall/Zayn | E | 3.5k | A/B/O, fluff, falling in love

Eternity starts with a pink rose.

👰Wed’n Walk (Or, We Went to Amsterdam Together)👰

Harry/Louis | E | 11.4k | friends to lovers, fake married au

When Harry had first started planning his honeymoon to Amsterdam, he had not envisioned ending up there with his best friend. Or getting fake-married to him for 24 hours.

🪴Unplant🪴

Harry/Louis | M | 4k | strangers to lovers, trans harry

Please do not disturb my plant She needs 2 hours of sunlight a day and I live in a sunless flat I’ll be back to collect her soon Thank you and stay well. or Louis should've looked where he was going, then he wouldn't have to desperately try to save a little flower now.

🏆Brit's AU (The Kissing Game)🏆

Harry/Louis, Niall/Lewis Capaldi | E | | 1,5k | crack, one direction reunion, kissing

Lewis' quest to reunite One Direction via kiss

😟play pretend😟

Harry/Louis | T | 1k | gender dysphoria, depression, implied self harm, trans harry

just a bad day for him for her

🩷His and Hers🩵

Harry/Louis | T | 1.8k | trans Harry, canon compliant, fluff, tiny bit of angst

It's just a blanket, it shouldn't make Harry freak out like this

🌇Together We're the Greatest🌇

Harry/Louis | E | 4.6k | dystopia, getting back together, blood and injury, angst, soulmates, misunderstandings, hand jobs, hurt/comfort

“How the fuck does this always happen to you?” Louis huffed, pulling Harry's limp body into the half fallen apart car he'd borrowed for this. Well, he didn't intend to give it back, really, but insurance covered theft, did it not? And this thing was basically held together with duct tape and good faith, so really, the former owners should thank him for taking it off their hands. - It's not the first time Louis has to stitch Harry back together, but Louis will make sure it is the last.

🏳️‍⚧️Hold Me Tight (Or Don’t)🏳️‍⚧️

Harry/Louis | E | 13.6k | trans harry, famous/non-famous au, fangirl harry, angst, falling in love

Falling in love with Louis is easy enough. Separating Louis from the singer persona Harry has been a fan of for years, however, is not. But she's not the only one making assumptions.

💗Til the Afterglow💗

Louis/Niall/Harry | E | 8.1k | A/B/O, heats, falling in love, smut

When Harry goes into heat in a random hotel room a thousand miles from home, there's more than one Alpha offering his help. Harry can't possibly be asked to choose.

☕I'll Get You Through☕

Harry/Louis | G | 1.1k | pining, domestic

Louis will always pick up when Harry calls. Always.

Ω we don't fight fair Ω

Harry/Louis | E | 2k | A/B/O, smut, non-traditional A/B/O dynamics

“What, you think I'll just roll over for you now?” The smirk on Louis’ face was almost devilish. “Yes,” He breathed against Harry’s lips, cocky and sure, like it was a fact of life. It sent all kinds of shivers through Harry. God, but he wanted to. Wanted Louis to have him right against this wall, let everyone see how he fell apart under him. But not tonight. Harry fixed his posture, standing up straighter and trying to get himself under control. “I don't think so, omega.” Or: Nothing like a little chase to start off Louis' heat.

👗Secret Moments👗 (First Part of the She Series)

Harry | G | 1.7k | trans harry, gender things, gender euphoria

Harry's first dress.

🫂The Truth In Me🫂 (Second Part of the She Series)

Harry & Zayn | G | 1.1k | trans harry, coming out, harry & zayn friendship

Harry is ready to come out to her best friend.

💄Hold On Tighter💄 (Third Part of the She Series)

Harry | G | 1.4k | trans harry, coming out, angst & feels

Harry finally has the house to herself again. Or so she thought.

📿Take the Moment and Taste It📿

Harry/Louis | E | 4.6k | strangers to lovers, smut, cheeky harry, meet cute

“You made him a bracelet?” “Yeah. It’s a whole thing, people make these friendship bracelets and trade them at the shows. I got a bunch from fans while I was there, but I wanted to give Harry one, with my number on it.” “Your number as in 28, your squad number, or your phone number?” Louis smirked. “You know which one.” or Louis didn't get the chance to give Harry his bracelet in person, but Harry isn't one to leave fate alone.

🧹Disenchanted Series🧹

Harry/Louis | E | 25.2k | witch!harry, strangers to lovers, Magic AU, slow burn

Witch Harry is just trying to live his life. Then there's Louis.

The Potion

If Harry were a calm and collected person, he would simply take the scroll back now and leave. Sadly, his mama had blessed him with lots of wonderful things, his soft curls, his biting green eyes, his magic affinity, but he had not inherited any of her patience. So instead, he got right up in Hedgehog’s face, thrilling at the fact he had to bend down just the tiniest bit to look into his eyes. Such a shame, too. This guy had pretty blue eyes and if he wasn't drenched in the stench of The Hunters™, he might've even made a decent fuck, but that was neither here nor there now. or Harry is a witch minding his own business, Louis is a nuisance.

The Escape

Harry is still minding his own business, Louis is still annoying. Well, fine. Maybe he is the tiniest bit helpful, too.

The Healer

Harry is trying to- Louis is- He's going to make it. Harry will make sure of that.

The Curse

Time for Harry to confront his past. Or not?

The Heart

True love isn't something that was ever going to be in the cards for Harry. It finds him anyway.

🧛If You Leave me🧛

Niall/Zayn | E | 5k | Vampire AU, Exes to Lovers, angst, smut, overthinking

Niall spends too much time in his own head, almost breaking his (and Zayn's) heart in the process.

💌Lonely Cards Club💌

Harry/Louis | T | 25.8k | Advent fluff, strangers?/exes?/friends? to lovers

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard. It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day. 💌 An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.

🫂It's okay, 'cause you're not alone🫂

Niall/Zayn | T | 1k | panic attacks, canon compliant, hurt/comfort

Niall focussed on Zayn’s steady heartbeat, tried to use it to ground himself. thump, thump, thump One, two, three. He was safe. Always safe in Zayn’s arms.

💚Dreaming of a Green Christmas💚

Harry/Louis | E | 4.2k | Size Queen Louis, sex toys, Harry in panties

Harry opens the wrong package by mistake and finds the sex toy Louis ordered for himself. That's not an opportunity Harry can pass up on.

✒️What's in a Name✒️

Harry/Louis | T | 2.6k | Soulmate AU, Trans Harry, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate. The name on his arm disagreed. But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.

🧟‍♂️Hope🧟‍♂️

Louis, Harry | T | 2k | Major Character Death, Zombie AU, fatherhood

A father's desperate journey against time.

🚪On Love's Doorstep🚪

Harry/Louis | T | 1.6k | Fluff, Harry in a dress

Harry Styles: a day in the life ☑ Stuck in a dress ☑ Abandoned by his best friend ☑ Date with hot neighbour All in all, not the worst day ever

🍯we could be enough🍯

Harry/Louis | M | 5k | Trans Alpha Louis, Omega Harry, nesting, fluff

“You know I am flirting with you, right?” Louis freezes mid-bite. Just manages not to choke on his steak. Harry laughs a bit too loudly, almost like he’s nervous. “Yeah, should’ve known you weren’t the observant kind. You think I get this dressed up for a random dinner with a mate on a Tuesday night?” or Louis never imagined anyone could love him for who he truly is. Then he meets Harry.

🌟Stars over Amsterdam🌟

Harry/Louis | T | 4.7k | Exes to Lovers, Harry in a dress, idiots in love, Eras Tour

Louis remembers how stressed they were, trying to get tickets at all. The waiting for the email with the code, which only Louis got, the actual On-sale. How Harry stood behind him, peeling at his nails nervously. Trying not to distract Louis. But it had all gone smoothly and he had gotten the tickets within just a few minutes. Harry had jumped around Louis’s chair in excitement like a bouncing ball. Already starting to plan their outfits. A gold fringe dress for Harry, Fearless was his favourite album, after all, and a matching shirt he had found online for Louis. So people could tell right away they were an item. That was their plan. Before it all went to shit. or Fate in form of Eras Tour tickets forces Louis to meet up with his Ex. Hopefully soon to be Ex-Ex.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise! 

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.  MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai:  MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something:  MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult. 

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest.  (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Ch 6

AO3 | FFN

Previous chapter on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

Special thanks to @deadwoodpecker for beta reading this chapter

********

It was Molly’s turn to catch Arthur as he swayed on his feet and nearly fainted into her lap.

Hermione’s trembling hands were clapped firmly over her mouth, her eyes bulging to the size of saucers and darting around the room, unsure of who to start questioning, lecturing, or comforting first.

Ron was standing comfortably looking very pleased with himself, taking his turn to give Hermione his best “I told you so” look.

Fleur was silently beaming.

George’s face was turning red and his lips were pressed together so tightly they were turning white, he was trying so hard to keep his flippant comments to himself.

Percy had an intense, focused look on his face like he was trying to solve a maths problem or get a joke.

Bill and Charlie were glaring at Harry with a renewed quiet venom that was more intimidating than the unrestrained threats of a few minutes earlier.

But Harry wasn’t even close to caring, because his brain was too busy with listing to him all of the reasons why he was a terrible person and how he had ruined Ginny’s life and how he had no business being responsible for a tiny helpless human. With the deathly silence of the kitchen, he could perfectly hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

Ginny was still just staring at the blue potion with a completely blank expression. Finally, she was the one who broke the silence.

“...Huh.”

That sound was like a dam breaking, and the entire family erupted into a new flood of noise, all shouting over each other.

“Okay, okay, nobody panic!” Hermione shrieked, flapping her hands and clearly panicking, “We can handle this, I’ll help Ginny make a plan! I’ll start a baby binder!”

Molly darted across the kitchen and tackled her still-stunned daughter into a crushing hug.

“Remember Ginny dear, this is a good thing and we’re all happy for you, even though I’m so sorry I failed you as a mother,” she cried.

“By that she means you both are always accepted by this family and we’ll help any way we can,” said Arthur seriously.

“Yes, feel free to floo over if you ever start feeling sick, dear,” wept Molly, clasping onto Ginny’s hands for dear life, “and I know you starve yourself for your team, but you need to eat whatever you have a craving for as soon as you crave it, even if those trainers don’t like it. I’ll be happy to cook it for you. In fact, I’ll just start coming over every day to make sure you have everything.”

Behind her, Fleur was silently fist-pumping in victory at the new target for Molly Weasley’s doting.

“Not that anybody cares,” said Ron pointedly, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed, “But I’m still waiting for my apology.”

That was enough to shake Ginny out of her trance and she actually chuckled. “Ronald, it’s going to take a lot more than the immediate vindication of the wanker things you say for that to happen.”

Bill and Charlie’s faces had turned a shade of purple that reminded Harry entirely too much of Uncle Vernon.

“The rising star junior Auror can’t handle rudimentary contraception magic?” Charlie growled through clenched teeth.

Harry gulped loudly enough to be heard over the cacophony. “No! This potion batch is just a dud, we’re always safe!”

Ginny gasped and grabbed Harry by the sleeve. She pulled him close and whispered, as if there were a chance everyone wouldn’t hear. “Wait, Harry, you did remember to do the Charm...erm….that time, right?” She glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. “That time...you know...at that thing? That thing three weeks ago?”

Harry’s insides felt like they had been frozen. Apparently the look on his face betrayed him, because Ginny looked to be going through the same revelation as him.

“I….I thought you had,” he mumbled weakly.

Ginny winced and closed her eyes. “Noooooooo,” she moaned, “Harry, we established this, the one who initiates it needs to do the Charm!”

“Exactly!” said Harry, “You were the one who grabbed me and dragged me to the bathroom!”

“Only because you hadn’t taken your hand off my thigh the entire bloody dinner!” said Ginny frantically, “What was I supposed to do, just keep eating cake?”

“Wait!” said Ron loudly, and Harry and Ginny froze like trapped rabbits.

Ron glared back and forth between the two of them, the gears in his head working. “Dinner? Cake? Three weeks?”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Hermione seethed dangerously. “Seriously? At our engagement party!?”

Harry shrank away from her like a child caught in the sweets jar. “Er….would you believe that we got caught up in the romance of the moment? You know, because you two are so in love, it’s inspiring?”

“Exactly!” said Ginny, “Really, you should take this as a compliment.”

Ron had his hands over his ears and his eyes clenched shut. “Welp. I can never use that bathroom again. We have to move flats. Better yet, let’s just burn down the building.”

“So what is the Harpies’ maternity plan?” Percy asked studiously, as if this were simply a bureaucratic issue, “how soon do you plan on going on leave? Assuming, of course, you...you know….intend to go through with it”

Tense silence fell, as the misunderstanding that caused all this chaos was suddenly relevant again. Every face was looking toward Harry and Ginny with baited breath.

Ginny swallowed and cleared her throat.

“That,” she said forcefully, crossing her arms, “is none of your business. None of this is any of your business. So if you’ll excuse us, the only people whose opinions matter right now will discuss this alone.”

Without waiting for a retort, Ginny grabbed Harry by the hand and led him up the stairs. After they entered Ginny’s old bedroom and Harry closed the door behind him, she paced back and forth several times before turning to face him.

“Did you put a ward on the door?” she asked.

“And several more on our way up the stairs,” answered Harry. “We should have a while before an Extendable Ear sneaks in here.”

“Good. Very good. Cool. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, both hesitant to look the other in the eye. Harry wanted to hug her and start reassuring her, but he also didn’t want this conversation to start, because he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to hear what he suspected Ginny would say.

Even though he was completely panicking and sure he would find a way to spectacularly mess up raising a child, there was no doubt in his mind about at least trying his best at it. But he knew how dedicated Ginny was to her career, and how difficult this could be for her. He was sure what she was going to say, but he wasn’t sure he could withstand hearing it.

Ginny was chewing her lip, but finally broke the silence. “Look, Harry….this is a lot to take in. Neither of us planned on this happening so soon, obviously. I understand if you want to focus on your job—”

“What?” Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a professional athlete who has another human growing inside you, and it’s my job we need to worry about?”

Ginny shrugged. “Well, I could keep playing for the next few months. The team healers put a ward around your abdomen for bludgers. I would have to take a break eventually, but I’m on contract now, so I’m secured in my roster spot while on maternity leave, and they always give players a chance to earn their starting spot back.”

“Oh,” said Harry, surprised. “Well that’s….that’s good. I thought it would be more cutthroat.”

“Well, the Harpies’ whole brand is having the very best female players in Britain,” said Ginny proudly, “and having a reputation for the best maternity plan in the league makes them pretty attractive to all their prospects. It’s hard to build a core team if you permanently lose a player every time someone gets pregnant.

“So…” she said assertively, looking him in the eye. “I feel like...we can do this. I want to keep this baby. But ultimately I feel like it’s both of our decisions. I’ll understand no matter how you feel. So….what are you thinking?”

Harry felt like he was in a tug of war, between exploding from happiness or imploding from terrifying nerves. Dementors, dragons, Death Eaters, nothing was as scary as this, but he also didn’t have to think about his answer, even for a second.

His hand drifted into his pocket and he toyed with what was inside. This wasn’t how he imagined doing this, but she asked him what he was thinking, and this night had already flipped all their plans upside-down, what was a bit more?

Harry focused on Ginny’s brown eyes, still earnestly waiting for his answer, and he found the courage he always found there.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” he said bracingly.

He dropped down to one knee.

Ginny made a high-pitched squeak and her eyes widened in shock. Harry smiled at himself, pleased that he could still catch her completely off-guard.

“I wasn’t planning on doing this soon. I was afraid you would think I was being pushy. Was going to wait a few years. Or maybe a few months. Okay, I was probably close to cracking already. And in the meantime, it still felt good to have this on me, as a good luck charm I suppose.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small black box he had bought weeks earlier.

“Harry….” Ginny whispered, her eyes welling with tears.

“Ginny,” Harry answered. He opened the box to reveal the ring. “Will you mar—guh!”

He was cut off by a crazed redhead tackling him to the ground, grabbing his face and kissing him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Harry’s head was spinning, but he reluctantly pushed her back.

“Gin — Gin!” he grunted between kisses. Finally, Ginny pulled back, frowning at him.

“There’s kind of a part you forgot?” Harry said pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

Ginny looked lost for a moment, then rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. Yes. Obviously yes, you idiot.”

She kissed him again, and he lost track of time. Eventually, his back started to get sore on the wood floor, and he pushed himself up and pulled them both to their feet.

“We can finish our own celebration later,” said Harry, smiling so wide his face was sore, “but we should probably put your family’s worries to rest. And I can’t wait to show the world your hand with this on it.” He slid the ring onto her finger, and Ginny bounced on her feet like she was eleven years old again, practicing signing the name “Ginny Potter” in a diary.

Then, her smile slipped and she groaned loudly. “Ugh, this will make my mum even more of a nightmare now. I thought she was bad in the lead-up to Bill’s wedding, she’ll be even worse since she has to be the mother to both of us.”

“Well, Bill’s wedding was nice, wasn’t it?” said Harry diplomatically.

“I mean, I guess,” Ginny shrugged, “but not nearly nice enough to be worth all the hassle. The months of my mother stressing over everything and making sure I know my part. And I was just a bridesmaid! Being the center of attention of a hundred people while wearing a cumbersome dress might be Fleur’s dream, but it sounds like the worst day of my life.”

She wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him close. “I just care if I’m the center of your attention.”

Harry smiled even wider. “Well don’t worry, you could be wearing a burlap sack and I still won’t be able to take my eyes off you.”

“So you don’t mind backing me up when Mum breaks out the bridal magazines?” Ginny asked pleadingly. “I was never one of those girls that fantasize about an extravagant wedding; in fact, the smaller the better. We’ve never really talked about it, but I know you, so I assume you would be okay with that?”

Harry laughed loudly. “Are you kidding? Yes, absolutely. You know I’m not exactly a social butterfly. As far as I’m concerned, we could jusy floo over to the Ministry and take care of it right now.”

They both erupted into a fresh round of laughter, holding each other and clutching their sides at how funny and ridiculous the idea was.

Then, their eyes met, and their laughter faltered, growing more and more quiet until tense silence descended on the room. Their smiles dropped, and their suddenly serious eyes held a wordless conversation.

Finally, both their mouths crept back up into wide smiles, this time being full of mischief.

[silkybullets]

“Death Call”

Midland Hotel, 1925, sitting alone at a table the evening before Christmas, Tommy's icy eyes met with a face he never had ever thought of seeing again, not whilst being alive at least. Which lead us back to Birmingham, 1914, after he volunteered in Small Heath rifles, he spent his last couple of months home holding your hand in the hospital, watching your colours fade as dying of an unknown disease.

Warnings: English is my second language.

Words: around 2k

Tommy just ordered a drink, adding to that a whore, a brand new one in honor of Christmas when he initially went to light his cigarette. His eyes drifted to a table further away where a woman was already sitting down. He did recognize her, remembering the sweet touch of an old lover. His stiffened body didn’t receive the orders to continue moving sent by his brain, his mind too occupied playing memories of before the war. Before it all begins, or all ends, depending which side you’re looking.

One the other side of the room, you were searching the pockets of your woolen coat. When you finally found your cigarette case, you got one out, sliding it in between your soft lips. After pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you hassled lightening up your cig and welcomed the poison in your lungs as if it was the purest thing. 

The waiter came closer to you, putting down your rhum, which you drank in one go and ordered another one. It’s been a couple months you didn’t drink and, after this first shot you don’t remember why. When doctors failed to diagnose you and closed your file with a lung disease you were young and never tasted the flavor of the liquid poison. But at the cliff of death, God granted you the wish to live.

Too bad that’s when your memories of endless & lonely drinking nights happened. 

Coming from a christian family, it was no question for them you had been chosen by God to do something great in this world. Pushing their luck they sent you to an orphanage run by nuns to pay your debts to God. When their initial idea was to keep you pure for as long as you were to be alive, you chose a different path for yourself, bounged down into alcohol, drugs and whatever came with it.

Saying you were a non-believer would be too much, but the idea of being some kind of “chosen one” was nonsense to you, that just meant death was right under your nose or waiting for you at the corner of the street. What happened next was logical consequence, your depraved self was sent back home after the nuns numerous warnings were ignored. You did not change, and decided not to. 

When being saved or witnessing a miracle helps people get their life in order, it had the reverse effect on you and you had yet to get your shit together.

When they recommended you to drastically change your ways for the sake of your family if not for you, you gave in. You had siblings, and knowing how hard your family could be on them at times, you didn’t want to leave them alone. But your good will ended tonight.

You looked at the filled glass in front of you for what seemed like an eternity,  weighting the pros and cons of getting drunk tonight and all the other after that one. You being dead or alive it’ll be okay for your family, you assured yourself to avoid feeling guilty for choosing not to fight. 

Ten minutes and three empty cups later, you were ordering another one. The waiter was intently looking at you, concerned, while you were ignoring his pout.

“You sure you want rhum, ma’m, Can I bring you something else, gin perhaps?” He was as smooth as one could, but the implicit meaning behind his words irritated you the most.

“Do I look like I’m sad, eh? Tell me ‘cause I don’t look at meself in mirrors these days.” You begin, agitating your fingers that were holding another cigarette. 

“Gin’s for sad women, whiskey for big boys crying, rhum for people like me: We are not sad enough for trying to drown our pain in gin, not hopeless alcoholics enough to to get drunk with something as tasteless as whisky. We simply enjoy a slow death with a sweet and spicy flavor. Please bring me the whole bottle this time.”

Without realizing it, you offered the man the warmest smile he had seen tonight and he gave one back even if still quite taken aback by your confusing revelation.

Tommy had seen enough, he got up throwing a bill near his drink and cleared his throat for lack of clearing his head. He walked to the table, the woman he once knew was seated, his voice already reaching her ears before their eyes would meet.

“Is this seat taken?” He motioned to the second chair around the table. Finishing another glass she invited him to sit down with a move of hand. Her cigarette in between her lips, she poured some rhum into her glass and ultimately lifted her eyes to his face.

“Are you sick of the hotel whore, Thomas? Am not one if this is your question.” She blinked as puffing on her cig. 

“Merry Christmas to you too, Y/N” He coughed. “See you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Nor did you.”

Lies, it was all lies, if it wasn’t her eyes he hadn’t recognized her. The woman he was in love with was long gone and so was the boy who loved her.

“So OBE it is, now?” She looked up to him.

He stayed in her eyes before daring to speak, and break the eye contact.

“You were always used to call me Tommy, we can stick to that.”

She didn’t respond nor look at him, keeping for herself any emotions his words had unleashed into her, if they did.

“What happened to you?” He spoke in a more vibrant ton. An attempt to ease the heavy atmosphere.

“War happened to us, Tom.” 

His eyes snapped open on her.

“What France did to you, remaining alive did to me.” She offered him a fair smile, looking straight at him with the same piercing gleam hiding behind her iris than when they were younger. 

“We all came back alive. John, Arthur, Freddie... Although they are now some missing pieces.”

“Yeah, fucking pieces spilled everywhere. It’s looking like the puzzles we used to play when we were younger, huh? Does that ring any bell?” She giggles.

It was hard for him to read her, he didn’t know what he felt either. 

He stayed at the hospital three months straight holding her hand as her colors were fading. He remembers vividly how difficult it was for her to breath, speak, even keeping her eyes open was a huge sacrifice. But she’d never compromised to keep them shut as he told her to, his face gave him the strength of an army, as she used to say. And that had him laugh, even though now he doesn’t remember the last time something as close as a laugh came out his throat.

“Don’t get fucking lost in memories, Thomas. Just ask for it.” 

She poured some liquor into her glass and slowly slid it to Tommy as if anticipating him telling her he didn’t want it.

He watched her moves with amusement, it was odd to him to find her here, but even more peculiar was the fact it seems like she knew him still. Like those ten years that separated them weren’t there, like there wasn’t a day they didn’t think about the other fondly. Her gaze didn’t leave his, and he knew exactly where her mind was because his own was at the same place. She was getting all the information she could to try to match his now tired face with the one she had been picturing in her head all those years.

“Okay then.” he nodded. “ Where have you been?” 

A smile appeared at the corner of his lips, they were playing a game he couldn’t only play with her, she was the one girl before France, everyone got their advantages.

“Fucking dying of being alive after I got strunk by some miracle.” She raised a brow as if to voice the displeasure of missing the boat.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I wish I was, Tommy.”

He let out a long sigh. Once again he failed at keeping a light atmosphere. It was to be said she wasn’t any help.

That’s when he realized no matter how it felt like they were still the same teenagers, back in 1914 before everybody got fucked up, no matter how hard the memories were hitting him this exact same instant with their first kiss, their first touch and the first time they exchanged their desire to live a life together, they were not the same. Nothing was.

She was only a mere shadow of herself, and he? He couldn’t even look at her in the eyes for more than five minutes, too afraid it would dig out things that must be kept where they were nowhere to be found for his own sake.

Every little thing about before France hurt him. Even the happy throwbacks, especially the happy throwbacks. Knowing he would never feel those feelings again, never get silly about the breeze meeting with his skin or the rising of the sun at the top of a hill killed him most. That’s why he didn’t want to ask more about what happened to her. But at the same time, the questions came naturally to him, as if he waited all along to throw them out, taking off his chest a weight he never realized to initially be there.

“Have you done better after I left?”

“I did. For a time. Some years, in fact, even though my parents sent me to a nunnery to thank God for his mercy.”

He snorted at her words.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me? They were always about keeping you saint, even asked me to fucking give up on taking you running in the fields to watch the night sky until sun rised, they never thought it could be the other way around, you leading me.”

She laughed at this thought.

“Don’t you dare say this as if you disliked me being the lead, Tommy Shelby.” She sneered.

“No, I indeed liked it.” He shook his head without hesitation.

“If only they knew what we did, in those nights.” They both spoke, their voice overlapping along with their minds.

“Tommy you got to follow me, or else we’ll be too late.”

“Let me catch a breath, we got all the time to come up the hill some other nights.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s tonight the fireballs are going to be running in the sky!”

“You aware it’s not called “fireball” and that they are not ‘running’ in the sky?”

The girl stuck her tongue out, turning to him, her eyes mechanically squinted at the move. She did not realize he was right behind her and faked all along still behind at the feet of the hill to annoy her. His body strongly collided with her, making her stagger but Tommy’s arms locked her waist firmly, avoiding her body from meeting the ground, and his lips dropped on her mouth in a second, she couldn’t even close her eyes during the kiss.

“Stop it!” Her suave voice worded as one of her hands went hitting his chest, even if her deepest desire was for him not to let go of her lips.

“I’m thinking about that one night we first fucked. Bodies wet both by sweat and dew“ She muttered.

He was sitting but naked on the grass, his fingers intertwined in her hair that was falling at her back as holding her tightly. She was the type of flowers you thought were beautiful but couldn’t help but rip off the ground, dooming them to die in your hands. 

Her legs were strongly wrapped around his hips, she was carefully grounding down on him, making sure every of her moves were slow to make the pleasure last. She turned loose the grip of her arms around his neck and leaned backward so he’d hit her from another angle, this one allowing him to reach the bottom.

Her screams filled his ears and soon enough his mouth as she straightened back up, seeking his eyes, wanting to connect even more. The darkness he ignited in her eyes that night never left, always leading him to always want her, even in the most inappropriate places.

“I was thinking about that time at the local church.” He admitted.

“Every-fucking-body heard the screams--” She proudly stated.

“The priest was more than disturb” He added. “But they never found out who that was.” 

“Well, we know.” She handed him her cigarette. He gladly took it and smoked as much as he could, clouding his lungs as well as his mind.

She giggled some more, shaking her head both sides, she couldn’t believe they did such a thing, but knowing as mad they were when together, it was all figured out.

“It came back, Tommy.”

“What did?” He gained his serious tone back, eyes locking with hers.

“The disease, they say it’s even more violent this time, but I know it just never left. It has been lurking in the dark to come back when I’ll be happy again. But seeing I figured out its plan, it decided it was time to finish me off.” She sang. Her voice was devoid of any sadness, and he noticed it. “I think it’s a curse, Tommy. Run in our blood. Me grandma’ had that too, it passed a generation, leaving my mother and little sister alone. But I fear for the others.”

Old reflexes leading the way, Tommy’s hand fondled hers in the most natural way. He leaned forward to her as she took off his lips her cigarette, filling her lungs with that poison in hope it would kill the one that resided in her since way too long.

[koolkat9]

HWS Germany Ship Week 2021: Day 2

Prompt: Beach

Ship: GerFruk

Word Count: 994

Author’s Note: So this originally turned out way angstier than I meant it to be. The rules asked for not angst and although it was more hurt/comfort I didn’t want to risk anything so I wrote out the angst. I’ll probably post the original separately (since I really liked it), but I’ll share this for now. Also...the story Arthur reads them at the end may or may not have came from the one used in Erroneous Epilogue...

The Ideal Place

The sun shone bright and yellow in the clear sky overhead. Though there was a nice breeze blowing through occasionally and the beach was practically empty other than a few clusters of people outside of their own group, Arthur couldn’t help but feel irritated and hot. He was okay with beaches for an evening stroll or something of the like, but a whole day thing with the afternoon sun beating down on him was not ideal to him (he really needed to learn how to say no to Alfred’s invitations to these kinds of things). Even with the umbrella, he couldn’t seem to escape the heat. At least he was there with his lovers, though only one had the decency to sit with him.

“You can go have fun you know,” Arthur stated with a bit more hostility than he meant to.

Ludwig squeezed the Brit’s hand. “It’s no trouble. I’m happy just admiring the scenery.”

Despite his sour mood, Arthur couldn’t help but smile slightly. Leave it to Ludwig to be there, to tell him what he needed to hear, and most of all, be completely sincere and earnest with him, all which never failed to brighten Arthur’s day. Francis on the other hand never failed to annoy him, get his blood boiling and push all the right buttons to make him blow up. This time was no different. The Frenchman had spent most of their time there swimming with his idiotic friends and not even once came to check on him to make sure he was okay. The closest he got was trying to get Arthur to join them and do something fun which only made the Brit even more frustrated. 

“I thought you loved the sea Arthur?” Francis sighed, taking a seat beside his two lovers. He had been trying to get them to come to the water for the past few minutes.

“Yeah, when I’m on a boat. What can I do on a beach? You know I don’t know how to swim.”

“There is more than that,” Ludwig began, “there are sand castles, volleyball, collecting shells…”

“Aww Allemagne, who knew you could be so childish.”

The German’s cheeks flushed at the comment. Arthur only scoffed, squeezing Ludwig’s hand in comfort. “Don’t let him get to you, love. I think it's sweet.”

Francis pulled back, bringing a hand dramatically to his chest as if offended. “When did I ever say it wasn’t?”

Having quickly recovered from his French lover’s comment, Ludwig gave them a stern look. “Don’t you two start. As I was saying, there are a lot of things we could do. Even just sticking our feet in the waves to cool off.”

Arthur looked out towards the water, thinking over all of Ludwig’s suggestions. Perhaps walking along the edge of the water would be nice and a good way to stay cool. “Fine, let’s go.”

Linking hands, the trio got up and walked along the shore, allowing the waves to fall over their feet. To keep the peace Ludwig had positioned himself in the middle and it seemed to have been going well. Francis was practically skipping, kicking up water, occasionally getting the other two wet, but Arthur didn’t seem bothered by it, even joining in and playfully splashing Francis back.  Soon enough the three broke out into an all-out water war, moving farther and farther into the ocean (being mindful that it wasn’t too deep for Arthur’s sake). Arthur had it out for Francis since he basically dragged him in, while Ludwig, content to see Arthur actually enjoying himself, teamed up with him to get the Frenchman.

“Betrayal,” Francis cried as he got pelted with water attacks, “Ludwig...how could you? Agh.”

Things seemed to have been looking up for their little beach outing, that was until the waves started to grow. It was slow at first and the trio barely noticed, too wrapped up in their splashing. But as they grew and Arthur began to feel off-balance, Arthur felt his anxiety rise. “W-We...I-I-I need to get out now,” he stuttered out, making him feel embarrassed on top of his anxiousness. A particularly strong wave sent him crashing into Ludwig and he just held on tight to the man’s arm. 

Though his own nerves were starting to go a little haywire at Arthur’s reaction, Ludwig gestured to Francis to head back to shore as he began to lead Arthur out of the water. Francis wasn’t about to let Ludwig deal with this alone and took hold of Arthur’s free arm and helped Ludwig guide him out. 

No words were exchanged as they settled down onto their towels. Arthur’s hands were shaking a little but other than that there was nothing to be concerned about. “Nothing a little cuddling can’t handle,” Francis mumbled mostly to himself, but Ludwig also caught wind of it. Francis plopped down and stretched himself across Ludwig’s and Arthur’s laps.

Arthur was the first to react, his cheeks blazing red, “What the hell-”  

“Please lapin,” Francis interrupted, “Read aloud to us. No one else is around,”

“N-No way I’m reading to you frog. You’d probably only make fun or fall asleep.”

“I-I wouldn’t mind hearing you read,” Ludwig interjected, his hand finding its way into Francis’ hair without a second thought.

Arthur was caught off guard by Ludwig’s agreeance. “W-Well...I suppose it's t-two to one. Fine.” Arthur wiggled a bit in an attempt to get comfortable as well as give the other two a better view of the book in case they (Ludwig) wanted to follow along (and definitely not to cuddle closer to Ludwig). Clearing his throat, he began, “There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning, he was really splendid.”

And so, the three lovers spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled up on the towel, listening to a story of a velveteen rabbit, knowing that as long as they were together any place could be ideal.

((The ending feels kind of rushed but oh well its super fluffy and there is one of my favorite aspects/hcs for gerfra present so I can be happy!!!))

[miminorenai]

On the day the snow fluttering down, I found you. “...Have we ever met somewhere?” The person opens his deep crimson eyes wide... In this beautiful and cruel world — the fate with you begins to revolve.

CHAPTER 01

As I breathe in the air that contained the fluttering down snow, the cold that could freeze the heart erodes my body.

But, I can’t stop here and just solely run through the corridor where the moonlight doesn’t even reach.

A dazzling scent of blood that wafts through the air from outside mercilessly stirring up my heart.

I continue to run, run, and run...and then.

As if I was guided by something, I step inside a strange room and lay my hands on the closet door.

While opening the door in front of me, lukewarm tears spilled from my eyes —

MC “...!”

(Just now...a dream...?)

As I get up and look around, a familiar scenery spreading out, 

And the room filled with tender morning sun that had just risen, as if to bring me back to reality from my dream.

I wipe out my eyes that are wet with tears with the back of my hands, and my mind is puzzled.

(...It was a strange dream, such dream that felt so realistic that it tightened my heart.)

(Come to think of it, even the night I just came to this mansion, I had a dream which hinted at something.)

(I’m sure I had a dream like this —)

The knocks at the door interrupt my thought, and when I reply...

Napoleon “Good morning, Mimi.”

MC “Napoleon! What happened to you? You rarely get up at this hour.”

Napoleon “You would always wake me up, so today consider this as a return favor.”

Let me do something unusual today...muttering, Napoleon approaches me and looks into my face.

Napoleon “Since today, you’ll be leaving this mansion.”

Napoleon’s words vividly brings back the memory of that crescent night.

Napoleon “What are you doing there?” MC “...Who’s there?” MC “Pardon. Do you know how to open this door? I’m trying to get back to musée.” Napoleon “What’s that? ‘Get back?’ You’re not telling me you came through that door?”

Just one month after I got lost in this world...I’m going through the door again and return to my original world.

(Despite thinking about wanting to go back so much, it’s strange though. To think I feel lonely to leave everyone now.)

The hand that protected me from the first day strokes and tousles my hair, in order to comfort my sentiment.

MC “Wah,,,!”

Napoleon “If you’re sad, you have to enjoy our last time spend together to the fullest.”

MC “Eh...?”

Napoleon “The usual you would say it like that, right? ...Come on, let’s go. Everyone’s been waiting.”

MC “Yeah...!”

I spend the lively day like usual with everyone, and at the moment the waning moon appears in the sky, 

I stand in front of the door leading to my original world, with only one bag.

Arthur “Oh-oh, is Ai-chan possibly crying? How cute~”

Isaac “I-It’s not that I’m crying! You look lonely yourself, Arthur-san.”

Leonardo “Kuku...these guys are so *disorganized to the very end, aren’t they bad, Mimi?”

(*締まらない - loose, slovenly, sloppy

I shake my head and stare at each and one of them, so that I could engrave them in my memory.

(...The time I spent together with everyone who lives in an equal time to eternity might be just a moment.)

(But I will never forget this encounter. Forever, and ever...)

I feel like I’m going to cry at this rate, so I bow deeply.

MC “It was a short time, but thank you for taking care of me! Everyone, please stay healthy...”

Comte “Well then, I’ll open the door.”

Comte’s hand slowly opens the door...but.

Comte “What...is this?”

As I follow Comte’s line of sight, there’s —

(...What’s this?)

The space waves around, and the field of vision shakes violently in front of the sight of the strange mixture of light and darkness.

Comte “Everyone, get down!”

Napoleon “Mimi, come over here...!”

The instant Napoleon pulls my arm, Comte immediately slams the door shut.

Napoleon “...What happened?”

MC “...”

Comte “...Mimi, take this warm tea. Drink and it should calm you down a little.”

MC “Thank you, Comte...”

I pour the warm tea into my throat in Comte’s room, but the turmoil doesn’t subsided at all.

(...The other side of the door should be connected to Louvre Museum, and yet.)

MC “Have it ever been like that behind the door...?” 

Comte “I’d jumped over space and time many times over since I built that door...but this kind of thing is the first for me.”

Comte “I can open that door again in a month. But...I don’t know whether it could go back to how it was.”

(...Such thing.)

(Then, I can’t return to my original world for a while, I suppose...?)

(Um, that’s still way better.)

— Better than the possibility of never going back, ever again.

As I was attacked by anxiety that feels like slowly filling up from the bottom of my stomach...

Comte “Mimi...I promised to send you back safely without fail on the day you got lost in this world.”

Comte “But even then...”

I’m surprised by his spilled straining voice. 

(...I was preoccupied and engrossed about it myself, but I’m sure everyone is feeling shaken too.)

And if I look anxious, everyone would try to do something about it.

Even if it’s a problem without a solution.

(Because everyone in this mansion is...nothing but strong and extremely kind people.)

After spending a month, everyone became so precious — that’s why.

(I don’t want to make everyone sad or worried by showing an anxious face. Then, what I’m going to do is —)

MC “Don’t look like that, Comte. I have only a favor to ask of you.”

Comte “What is it, just say the word.”

MC “Can you take care of me in this mansion again for a while?”

The next day after my way to return was shut, my time’s beginning to move again.

My life for a month and the first day in the mansion starts to move again as if nothing had happened yesterday. 

MC “I’m going shopping!”

While accompanied by Leonardo-san who said he had business to take care of, we walk around the city that’s engulfed by the signs of winter.

Leonardo “Well then, cara mia. I’m going to finish my errand, so let’s meet up here again.”

Leonardo “This era is still dangerous, so make sure to walk in busy streets with lots of people, okay?”

MC “Yes, I’ll be careful.”

As Leonardo-san takes a step forward, he gazes at me with his amber eyes and opens his lips...

Leonardo “...Are you all right?”

(...Is it okay to be alone, not that he asks out of worry of me going by myself, isn’t he?)

Since I could feel his kindness from the trivial words, I show him a big smile.

MC “I’m all right, be careful too, Leonardo-san!”

Leonardo “Yeah, see you again.”

By the time I’m going outside as I finished buying all the ingredients I had discussed with Sebastian after parting from Leonardo-san...

(Ah...)

When I feel a cold touch on my cheek and look up at the sky, pure white snow fluttering down.

(No wonder it ought to be cold since morning...)

The snow that keeps falling as if it’d forgotten to stop, applying white make up on the city in the blink of an eye.

While even the air is dyed white, people going back and forth unfolding their colorful umbrellas.

The moment I’m about to open my umbrella...

(...?)

As people come and go walking in a quick pace and holding umbrellas, like colorful flowers blooming in the white world, 

I was captivated by a person who stops walking and stands alone.

The person suddenly turns his gaze towards the sky without holding an umbrella...

He’s just staring at the sky with fluttering down snow.

(...Frightening, yet a beautiful person. It’s as if he’s a snow spirit...)

(However...)

The profile looking up at the sky somehow tightened the middle of my heart tightly.

The profile is so painful that it almost breaks my heart just by looking at him...

But everyone just passing by, as if they couldn’t see the person standing still.

It seems that somehow he’s the only person left behind in the flowing time...

I was struck by the feeling of him being separated/detached from this world...my legs start to move on their own.

One step, to one step closer...

I unfold the umbrella I’m holding, and hold it out to protect the person from the falling snow.

The bright red umbrella obstructing the view of the white world.

And before I thought about it, the words fall out from my mouth.

MC “What’s happened, for you to have such a lonely face?”

The man with crimson eyes “...”

He slowly turns and that crimson eyes straightly catches hold of me,

And he opens his eyes wide.

(...What’s wrong, I wonder?)

That person's just staring at me as if he forgot to breathe.

MC “Emm...”

The man with crimson eyes “Hey.”

The man with crimson eyes “...Have we ever met somewhere?”

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

like, huh. how do i summarize this.

mystery really doesn’t care as much about the humans as people think. or if he does, he has a funny way of showing it.

The Cave Incident + Ghost:

Okay, there are a lot of unfavorable reads of the Cave Incident you could do for Mystery. Why wasn’t he more on the ball about the malicious spirit hiding in here? You’d think he’d have enough experience with paranormal investigations to go hmm, shit, I smell a problem! But he was still slow enough that Lewis died, and the only thing he could think of to do was rip Arthur’s entire arm off his body. Look at the way he’s holding the arm. He didn’t bite it off, he’s holding it at the elbow. He tore it off.

But who knows, maybe that was legitimately the best case scenario at that point. We can give him the benefit of the doubt.

Ghost, though.

At the time of this screenshot, Arthur has gone missing. Neither of them know where he is. This house was, moments ago, actively trying to kill them.

The rational thing for Mystery to do, if he was actually worried about keeping the other two safe, would be to either a) go search for Arthur before something else attacks him, or b) get Vivi the fuck out of here. Is he doing either? Nope! He’s eating an enormous sandwich. He looks super concerned about the situation and his humans. Rrright. But hey, maybe he knows this is Lewis’s conjuration, and assumes the whole thing is one big prank. Who knows, right? 

Except later, he also sits and watches silently as Vivi jumps in to protect Arthur from a murderous specter. Now, either he knows this is Lewis, in which case he’s aware this is completely out of character, or he still hasn’t figured it out, in which case his human charge just jumped in the path of a murderous ghost. Either way, here’s active evidence that his humans are in danger. And he does... nothing about it. At all.

He’s at the front of the line here, running away from Lewis. Again, whether or not he’s aware this is Lewis, his first priority is himself. He makes no move to protect the other two right behind him.

Freaking Out:

So, a popular fandom thing is Mystery parenting Arthur. Herding him to bed or actively sitting on him to force him to sleep (which is a whole ‘nother thing, that I’ll save for now.) In Freaking Out, Arthur’s up at the dead of night, working on finding Lewis, so exhausted he’s either falling asleep sitting up and having nightmares or actively hallucinating Monster Mystery.

And Mystery’s reaction, when he watches him jolt awake and fall out of the van, is...

Wasn’t me!

Once again, he shows zero concern for Arthur. He was just asleep or resting right next to him, making no move to do anything about him being awake and working. His reaction almost indicates he’s fully aware it was him that scared Arthur, and is shrugging it off to Vivi.

Hellbent: 

Aww, this was such a cute scene, right? Arthur getting over his fear to comfort Mystery?

Except, he has to psych himself up to do it. When he reaches out to Mystery, his hand is shaking. And throughout all of this, Mystery completely disregards him until he starts petting him. He apparently doesn’t care at all that Arthur almost jumped out of his skin at the sight of him.

And later on, when they’re out of the car, being attacked simultaneously by Lewis and Shiromori? 

He drags Vivi out of the back of the van and drops her on the pavement. This is, first of all, wildly unsafe. She’s barely conscious at this point, and there are not one but two people out for blood hanging around out here. But hey, maybe he was just trying to get her to safety! And Shiromori happened to jump him!

Except... he proceeds to cower behind Vivi as soon as she wakes up and starts fighting. Who, I will reiterate, was unconscious moments ago, and also is a human. Did Mystery really think she was going to be able to take Shiromori 100% without any problems? She gets overpowered almost immediately, so, uh, that was poor planning if so.

But- then again, he does shift into kitsune form right after this happens. Maybe he just needed a second to get ready to defend her?

...

Future:

Yeah, no.

Shiromori’s seconds away from stabbing Vivi. Mystery proceeds to... bite... his own paw. Instead of, y’know, her. Granted, it worked, but wow, seriously? This kitsune who had no trouble ripping off an arm four videos ago suddenly refuses to touch Shiromori or get in her way? This was his best plan? But, again, benefit of the doubt. He may have known with full confidence that this was the best and fastest way to distract Shiromori.

And then, while Shiromori’s advancing on him, he... looks at Vivi and gestures for her to grab her bat. So she can start fighting her again.

Same, Vivi. He wants you to do this again?

Vivi and Shiromori proceed to duke it out, Vivi wielding a baseball bat and ice powers she literally just got, versus Shiromori, who has giant and very sharp shears and ages of experience with her plant powers. Meanwhile, Mystery once again just sits there and watches.

(Also, sidenote – he knows Lewis has been chasing them. Even if he didn’t actually see him take Arthur into the truck, it would take about two seconds of thought to piece it together. Lance figured it out and he didn’t even know Lewis was there! But Mystery doesn’t do anything about that, either, even though Arthur might be dying.)

At every turn, he continues putting Vivi in danger. He throws her onto her back so she can keep fighting Shiromori with him. Her expressions throughout all of this are alternately determined or confused. She has no idea what’s going on – she just wants to protect her pup!

Not once does he actually attack Shiromori directly – not until after Vivi’s stabbed (and he’s half possessed – if you watch, you can see green around his eyes and in his gums – so is he even fully in control?)

TL;DR: Mystery routinely either actively puts his humans in danger, or fails to protect them when they are. It makes you wonder if he actually cares about them as much as he’s supposed to.

[hogarthwrites]

the one

pairing: samuel drake/reader (m/f)

genre: angst, friends to lovers

warnings: none? (let me know if i should put any)

words: 2,333

summary:

part 1 part 2 Sam looks back on memories, some good, some he wishes he could forget. He feels bad about leaving you behind, but he's scared of confronting his own feelings.

note:

fin.

India

Sam didn't remember the last time he had pizza. Was it a week after he got out of prison? It definitely didn’t taste as good as it did at that moment. They’d saved the city, gave back to the people, and he probably helped Chloe find love. He did good.

But he didn’t feel all that good .

He couldn’t get the way you looked at him before he drove away out of his mind. He should’ve hugged you or said goodbye. Damn it, Samuel .

“So,” Chloe bit into her slice and stretched out the mozzarella. “What’s with you and that doctor?”

“Doctor?” Nadine raised an eyebrow. “Sam Drake has a someone?”

“I know, it’s hard to believe,” Chloe replied, erupting in laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Sam put up his hands in mock defeat.

“But is there anything going on between you two?” Chloe persisted.

“No?” He quickly said, instantly regretting it. “Shit, yes… No… I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?”

“We’re best friends,” Sam shrugged. “Who,” he glanced at Meenu. “Who hold hands.”

“But do you love this doctor?” Meenu piped in.

He looked at the little girl, her big bright eyes looking up at him in amusement and he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh.

“That’s a big word,” he finished his pizza. “ Love .”

“Coward,” Nadine taunted.

“When did this become a counseling session? Can’t a man just enjoy his pizza without getting grilled about his love life? Jesus.”

“As a friend , I just don’t want you missing out on a good thing,” Chloe poked him.

“Thanks for the concern, but I’m old enough to confront my own feelings.”

“Old enough, but definitely not mature enough,” Meenu muttered.

“Hey, now you’re just hurting my feelings,” he laughed.

“Don’t be a coward, Sam,” the little girl mimicked Chloe and poked him as well.

Chloe gave him a smug look and took another slice of pizza.

1978

“You’re leaving again?” Cassandra followed her husband to the door.

Sam tiptoed to the nursery, where Nathan was left on the rug, playing with blocks. He sat in front of his baby brother and held up his stuffed bear that had an eyepatch to resemble the pirates in his picture books.

“Look at this, Nathan,” he made the bear dance in front of Nathan, who looked nervous as Cassandra and Frank’s voices got louder. “This is Henry. He’s a pirate.”

“Henry!” Nathan reached for the bear.

Sam closed the door to muffle the yelling outside. It was normal now, and even though he was just seven years old, he knew it wasn’t a good thing.

“Why don’t you walk? It’ll be good for you!” Frank was saying.

He knew his mom was sick, but he didn’t know what was wrong. They didn’t ride airplanes or visit the nice lady anymore and Cassandra spent more time asleep than before.

Nathan was preoccupied with Henry when the front door slammed shut and soon after, they heard Cassandra’s footsteps as she ran to her bedroom.

“Mommy?” Sam found her under her blankets, sobbing.

“Oh, come here, honey,” she peered out at him and he crawled in under the blankets with her and Nathan. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, baby.”

“Are you feeling better, mommy?” Sam whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” she sniffled. She stared at her left hand for a while before slipping off her wedding ring. “Love is overrated.”

1987

“Right, so the cash register isn’t too hard to use,” Fred, the manager of the bookstore, led you around the back of the counter. He wasn’t that much older than you – he was probably 18 or 19 – and he stood tall and lanky as he punched buttons on the cash register. “You’ll have accountability for the accuracy of cash and charge transactions.”

“Okay,” you nodded, but you were distracted by a boy and a girl outside the shop. You recognised the boy as your coworker. Sam, was it?

“What’s going on out there?” You gestured towards the couple.

“Ah,” Fred simply glanced up. “Sam’s getting dumped. Again.”

Again? You watched as the girl was visibly upset with Sam while he tried to explain whatever it was he did wrong to her.

“I think you’re all caught up,” Fred gave you a pat on the back. “I have to go back to restocking that Stephen King book. Don’t worry about Sam too, this happens like, once a month.”

“Alright, thanks, Fred,” you busied yourself with rearranging the magazines in front of you, but you couldn’t help but glance up at Sam and the girl.

The conversation seemed to escalate and you clasped your hand against your mouth to suppress a loud gasp when she threw her milkshake at Sam’s face. She walked away in a huff and Sam stood there covered in strawberry milkshake. As he turned back to go inside the store, you looked down at the magazines again, pretending you weren’t just watching him get dumped.

“Shit,” he groaned as he tried to wipe his face clean.

“Geez, that looked rough,” you gave him an apologetic look.

Sam looked at you in confusion, wondering who you were.

“I’m the new hire,” you smiled. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Right…”

“Fred keeps an extra uniform in his locker if you wanna use it,” you shrugged. “I saw it when he gave me mine. Maybe you can ask him.”

“Nah, I’ll just pick it open,” Sam went to the back room.

Minutes later, he was back and clean of the milkshake.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he smiled and nudged you.

“Don’t mention it. You don’t think he’ll notice it’s gone, do you?” You glanced over at Fred, who was assisting an elderly woman.

“Nah, I’ll put it back before he even notices it’s gone.”

“Right,” you chuckled, turning away as a customer placed some books on the counter. Sam sat on a stool nearby and took out a book to read. Treasure Island.

“So, um,” you turned when the customer left. “What was that out there? If you wanna talk about it.”

“That was Mina,” he didn’t look up from his book. “My now ex-girlfriend.”

“Right, I can see that.”

“She was mad about me working too much.”

“Why? How much time do you spend at the bookstore?”

“I don’t,” he flipped a page. “I work part-time at a garage after hours, fixing motorcycles and shit. Employment’s down, I’m barely getting by as it is. Also, I have shit luck when it comes to love.”

“I feel that. I think it runs in my family.”

“Did you just get dumped too?”

“Nah. My mom got tired of my dad so she ran off with a friend to Europe, then my dad fucked off to God-knows-where-ville.”

“Yeah, my dad fucked off too,” Sam laughed. “We have a lot in common, new kid.”

“I guess we do,” you smiled at him.

You and Sam were lying on your stomachs side by side, elbow to elbow on your bed watching the Angel Casas Show where A-Ha played a song.

“He has nice hair,” you pointed at the singer.

“You think I’d look good with longer hair?” Sam ran his hand through his hair.

Your face scrunched up as you tried to imagine his hair longer. “Your hair’s too messy and greasy to look as nice as his. And you're not blond."

“Is it really that greasy? I swear I try to wash it all off after work,” he pouted.

“Hmm,” you reached over and tousled his hair. “On second thought, try growing it out. It might be cute.”

“Why, thank you for finally recognising my good looks.”

“Alright, don’t let it get to you,” you pushed him off the bed and rolled over, laughing.

Arthur appeared at the door with his hands on his hips. “It’s late and I just want some goddamn rest. Time to go home, young man.”

“Hey, how’s it going, Art?” Sam winked.

“Go home,” Arthur sighed and walked away.

“I guess that’s my cue.”

You watched as Sam searched for his jacket and put it on. He stood in front of the mirror and touched his hair again, trying to style it differently.

“You really think I’d look good with longer hair?” He frowned at his reflection, annoyed that he could never get his hair to behave.

“Yeah, I guess so,” a corner of your mouth lifted into a small smile. You liked hanging out with Sam, and you didn’t know why you started thinking about him more whenever you weren’t together anymore.

“Don’t fall in love with me when I become even more irresistible,” Sam laughed as he climbed out of the window. He leaned in again with a lopsided grin on his face. “I mean it.”

You threw a stuffed animal at him. “Dream on, Sam. That’s grody to the max.”

Present Day

Sam ran his fingers through his hair as he stood outside your door. He’s been debating whether he wanted to go through with this and after a lot of failed attempts at calling you, he ended up at your doorstep.

Fuck it , he thought as he knocked. No answer.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Open the damn door.”

“Sam?” You called behind him.

Sam whipped around to see you walking up the steps with another person. Could it be?

“Fred?” He lifted an eyebrow. Fred was still tall and lanky, but his red hair was tied back in a low ponytail.

“If it isn’t Samuel Morgan,” Fred beamed.

“It’s Drake now,” Sam replied under his breath.

“Are you hurt, Sam?” You moved closer, inspecting his face. He had a cut on his nose, his lip, a bruise on his forehead and his hand was bandaged up.

“What the hell happened to your face?” Fred asked.

“I… fell,” Sam gave Fred a dirty look. “I’m fine.”

“Spare me the theatrics, Samuel,” you pushed past him and opened the door. “Come in.”

You grabbed his arm and led him to your sofa where he sat down with a grunt. His jaw clenched and he twiddled with his fingers while you went to grab your first aid kit.

“I have to go get ready,” Fred stood by the door. “Thanks for today. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

“Of course,” you nodded. “See you then.”

“Hope you get better, Sam,” he nodded at the man on your sofa. “I’d like to catch up sometime.”

“Sure, Freddie boy,” Sam faked a smile.

As soon as the front door closed, you angrily turned back to Sam who tried to avoid your eyes. You unwrapped the bandage on his hand and saw that he had a cut on his palm and a bunch of bruises on his knuckles.

“Hold on,” you sighed and got up to put a bag of peas on his hand.

After you’d cleaned his wounds and bandaged his hand up again, you sat back and rubbed your temples. You didn't know how to deal with him anymore.

“Take care of yourself, Sam,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” he looked at the bandage on his hand and closed his fist as much as he could. “Thanks again.”

You looked up as Sam stood.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “This was a mistake. I didn’t mean to barge in on whatever it is you have with Fred.”

“Huh?” You sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“He did have the hots for you back then, I guess it just makes sense.”

“Wait,” you laughed as you stood up. “Do you think Fred and I are a thing?”

“I–” Sam held up a finger to say something, but he bit his lip as realisation dawned on his face.

“Sam, I’m a doctor. His pregnant wife is my patient,” you crossed your arms.

“Oh…”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Sam pressed his lips together as he moved closer to you. “I’m sorry that was stupid.”

You turned away in frustration, doing your best not to just throw Sam out, but he seemed like he wanted to say something.

"Can you at least tell me what's on your mind?"

“God, Sam. Right now I just have all these what ifs playing around in my head, like what if you didn’t disappear, what if we stayed together, what if we didn’t have that fight before you left for India? It might’ve been fun, we might’ve been good together.” You pointed a finger at him. “But that’s all there is with you, is there? What if? ”

“I was scared, okay?” Sam put his hands up. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Ever.”

You scoffed as you rolled your eyes.

“I’ve never done this before,” he took your hand. “I…”

Sam froze up, his chest rising and falling as he tried to find the words to say. Don’t be such a coward , he told himself. He’s been at the end of the barrel of plenty of guns, nearly died at the hands of so-called “doctors”, lived at the mercy of a rich psychopath, but he couldn’t even say the word love .

“Sam?” Your eyes bore into his.

“I…” He repeated.

Instead, he pulled you in and kissed you. It felt different from the usual, quick kisses he usually gave. It was a soft kiss and he cupped your cheek gently as you melted into his arms. There was an urgency in the kiss, almost like he was desperate to tell you how much he needed this. How much he needed you.

Your eyes were still closed when Sam slowly pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve left well enough alone.”

Before he turned away, you took his hand and he turned back to look at you.

“Don’t go,” you pulled at his hand.

“I’m trying… I want to say it,” he let out a breath.

He kissed you again, hoping you understood the message. I love you, damnit.

“I know, Sam,” you kissed his unbandaged hand. “I know.”

“Friends?” He leaned his forehead on yours and you laughed.

“Forever.”

[bigskydreaming]

Interesting. Another week where I liked all the X-books that came out. Must’ve been cuz there was no Duggan in the mix.

New Mutants was one of the better issues since Ayala took over. I haven’t loved all of their issues, though enjoyed them for the most part, but this one I could really see everything start to come together that they’ve been seeding from their start. I wanna reread once next issue comes out and see whether it works better overall to read the full arc in one sitting. Also it might be that the Otherworld stuff was a forced detour they had to make and that threw off the pacing. We’ll see. 

But the kids with Gabby was such a sweet moment, and its so nice to see them all on the same side when it comes to Farouk......but Farouk’s motivations and the little interlude about the boy call back to Ayala’s first issue and it looks like the suspicions laid back then were true. Its almost certain that the Shadow King is actually an amalgamation or even just a full on puppet of an Amenthi demon who merged with or possessed Amahl Farouk as a child and using him as a host, has been all about trying to make this world match the one it came from, based on the same ideals Annihilation espoused. 

Basically, Amahl is not the same as the Shadow, the Shadow is trying to turn Krakoa into a new version of Arakko, and if I’m interpreting one panel of the art right, I think Xi’an (who seemed to have her suspicions back at the start of this arc too) just sensed another presence for the first time - and she’s the one who knows the Shadow King’s psyche best after all - and she’s figured out that there’s a separate Amahl Farouk consciousness hidden somewhere inside him. And given that second ‘demonstration’ interlude and the fact that the New Mutants are now nowhere to be found in the Shadow King’s mindscape, I’m guessing she managed to shunt them from the part the Shadow King controlled, into whatever part the original boy Amahl is hiding in.

Excalibur was one of its better issues. I’m far more interested in the politics of Otherworld than the political shit in X-Force, Mordred being a mutant is an actually interesting twist, and the idea that Arthur is making his son’s betrayal a self-fulfilling prophecy by attacking mutantkind because he believes Mordred will inevitably side with them as a mutant has some interesting possibilities. It was also unexpectedly....nice, to see like, the whole family Braddock fighting on the same side for probably the first time ever, lol, from Betsy to Brian to Meggan to Jamie.....Jim Jaspers remains a wildcard I’m wary of because like, lol I’ve read the original stories of him and it seems this writer has too, and I want someone to bring up that he’s keeping Redroot captive and make some kind of issue about that, especially now that Death has been brought back into the mix and Betsy’s offered to help him escape Sevalith. 

(Only to have him say no, he’s working - lol anyone else think Death’s trying to pull off a one-man coup and take over Sevalith for mutantkind and do his Daddy Dearest proud? Or given that he’s obviously still crushing on Ororo, even after - well I mean, probably BECAUSE she kicked his ass and left him for dead.....I could TOTALLY see them playing this as like, part of some weird courtship attempt of his. The only way he feels he can woo her as an equal is to come to her with a kingdom of his own or some shit like that. Idk, we’ll see. He’s definitely up to something though, but I do believe him when he says that ultimately he’s on the same side as the rest of them).

I liked that they haven’t forgotten about the other Rogue, Gambit and Rictor Captains, I liked Roma’s conversation with Jubilee about Shogo and the foreshadowing there, as well as Jubilee’s response and her clear conflict.....Merlyn can fucking die in a fire already, please and thank you, ugh, enough with this old shithead.....oh I LOVED that someone is FINALLY doing something with Bei, and it does make sense for it to be Excalibur though I figured it would’ve happened in New Mutants by now. But she and Shatterstar make a fun odd duo, and actually Star’s comment to Brian about being a new friend too like, lol, okay, I’m kinda here for a trio of Brian, Star and Bei to be like a Krakoan Warrior Three who are all united by their perspective as like, lifelong combatants and being outsiders among the rest of Krakoa even if Shatterstar and Bei are technically still mutants too. It makes sense.

Hmm, what else. Would love to see Bei’s thoughts on Death and Redroot, all things considered, and have something to do with those plotlines in the future. And really in general I’m here for this big all-kingdom smackdown with Sevalith, Hothive, Mercador, the Furies and Merlyn’s kingdom all arrayed against Krakoa and Avalon. Of course, these are still only the Foul Kingdoms. Roma and the rest of the Fair Kingdoms so far don’t seem to have any real problem with witchbreed....but this arc is still only getting started. Still waiting for Mordred’s inevitable entrance....curious to see what his power is, and especially if HE even knew he was a mutant before now.

Also: JULIO AND SHATTERSTAR CUDDLES. WE HAVE WAITED 84 YEARS FOR THIS.

And as for Hellions....

Okay, I didn’t actually love Hellions, its kinda on...layaway. I liked a lot of the fallout of last issue, I liked that the stakes are so apparent here, but I’m gonna be bothered by a lot of stuff unless there’s some kind of plot twist that reveals that Kwannon’s daughter is still alive somehow. Like maybe Sinister lied about not having another back-up JUST to ensure he still had one last card to bargain with up his sleeve since he lost the ‘in’ he had with the Hellions now, and with the Council now aware of his secret experiments with Arraki DNA (and bringing Tarn down on their heads in a way that COULD have started a full on war with them if Ororo hadn’t handled it for them)....like point is, all eyes are going to be on him for awhile now and he has very few cards left to play or people in his corner, so I’m HOPING that there’s another plot twist coming in the last couple issues there. 

Because if Kwannon’s daughter is ACTUALLY dead....it really doesn’t sit well with me that the first real mutant death in an age of literal immortality for the rest of them (since even Gorgon and Rockslide technically are still alive in SOME sense)....like for that to be Kwannon’s daughter, the only real innocent in all of this, and having been held hostage to this storyline the whole time, and only existing to force Kwannon’s hand in all of this....yeah. No. Thank you, do not like, that better not be all there is to this. I never trust anything Sinister says as a general rule, so I’m not gonna believe him about that having been the only back-up of her daughter until its wholly proven otherwise.

Other thoughts.....I like that Emma knows that she fucked up, I like that Emma DID have her own kinda failsafe in place because she didn’t trust Sinister for shit, I like that she was RIGHT not to trust Sinister for shit and that her fail-safe stopped even worse shit from happening....I DON’T like that her fail-safe literally just made Alex a weapon of mass destruction with no awareness he even was one and someone else’s hand (let alone fucking MANUEL’S on the trigger)....I DON’T like Emma looking all pained at how devastated Alex is when that was the inevitably outcome of this particular failsafe, like sorry Emma but if what it did to Alex was really that big a problem for you, you should have found a different failsafe.....and I REALLY REALLY don’t like Emma effectively just offering up Maddy’s resurrection as essentially a bribe to ‘fix’ what had happened to HIM, like....if you guys could have made the case for Maddy’s resurrection before now, it should have been for Maddy’s sake, not as like....a cheer-up tactic for fucking Alex, and DEFINITELY not to ‘fix’ a mess that still resulted in Kwannon’s daughter’s death (unless of course there’s a twist there).

Oh and I also meant to say there BETTER be fallout once Scott discovers Emma and Manuel’s role in all of this. I could definitely see Scott like, interceding on John’s behalf if he manages to pull of killing Empath, because like....he’d kinda want to do it himself. This is one of those times where I REALLY wish they’d spend more time developing where Gabe fits in with the Summers brothers now, relationship wise, because like, just show him giving any kind of shits for Alex as his older brother like, at all, and you can EASILY justify Gabe going full wrath-of-omega-mutant on Empath, and what’s the Council gonna do to one of their prized omega mutants, especially one who’s already been imprisoned on Krakoa for Xavier’s mistakes in decades past? 

Actually damn, now THERE’S a consequence-arc I’d love to see, because imagine Gabe helping John go after Empath, and then the Council really trying to throw HIM in the Hole for that, and then Scott being like uh no, remember the events of Deadly Genesis? The fuck I’m gonna stand by and allow that, Xavier you still owe him for that shit, especially since this resurrected version of him never did all the shit Emperor Vulcan did, at least as far as he knows. Or THEN ALSO I could see him getting Storm to back him up on this and she gets the Arraki to be like, well we owe this mutant a debt of gratitude for his role in making our new home, and actually his actions sound totally acceptable, we’re honestly not sure what the problem is, actually he sounds more like us than you so we’re happy to offer him sanctuary, and then the Council would shit their pants because they don’t want to lose an omega mutant to their war-like cousins since you KNOW more than a few of them are making contingencies in case they ever have to fight them again, and like, it’d split the loyalties of the entire Summers Clan in doubt and just...tons of story possibilities there. Lots to consider.

Eh, that’s not where they’re going with this at all though, so whatever. I’ll actually be really surprised if they do end up writing John as managing to successfully kill Empath.

Last thoughts.....this was weirdly the first time they EVER made me give a crap about Nanny? They managed to make me more interested in her in one issue than they have in her previous thirty-five years of existence, gave her more DEVELOPMENT in one issue than in all of that time, and when she was willing to sacrifice her just to save the orphanage from being destroyed I was like, holy shit. I....like...her?

And then they fucking ruined it all the very next page with how they had her react to Peter, and their ominous as fuck final epitaph. I’ll wait on deciding my full thoughts and feelings about that, and see just WHAT Peter ends up doing as a result....I have a feeling things are not going to end well for him and we might be close to seeing the last of him, especially with the inferences they’ve made about how destructive Peter’s true power is - whatever the hell it actually is. Like, Peter, at least, I can see the Council being more than willing to leave in the Hole, or just....put at the back of the resurrection queue for the rest of eternity. Which is shitty but would be perfectly in keeping with them and also I don’t actually know what he’s going to do yet.....like, is it going to be some bullshit like HE tries to destroy the Nursery or some shit because Nanny wanted to save it, or more likely is it gonna be something like he goes to the Right and betrays Krakoa or whatever and gives them valuable intel or something like that? Idk. 

Finally - YES MADDY’S COMING BACK. And she’s gonna be pisssssssed. Like, I don’t see how they’re planning to approach that, like....I’m expecting Xavier to try some serious editing on her back-up to maneuver WHICH point in time Maddy will come back remembering up to, because uh....that’s gonna matter a lot. But since this is all happening against his objections in the first place, and this seems more like Emma’s personal crusade to try and make up for her part in all this, I wouldn’t be surprised if Maddy comes back with full memories up to her most recent back-up.....which means she’s going to still be full on hating all of them, being like FUCK Krakoa AND your amnesty for all mutants I just want you all to burn, and oh yeah, on TOP of all that its inevitable she’s going to find out how much some of them FOUGHT to keep her from being resurrected, like....? Oh there is like only a 1 or 2% chance this ends any way other than TERRIBLY for everyone concerned.

(And yet I still hope they pull it off, because I don’t want her back just for one or two more issues, I want her back longterm. Ideally, I’d love her to take Jean’s place on the Council and pull it off with the support of like Mystique and Emma and Destiny and others as a giant fuck you to Xavier, but I’d also settle for her ditching Krakoa for Arakko and being like these are more my kinda people and also you can’t do shit to me here).

Oh and PS - lolololololol forever at Hank fucking McCoy trying to give Emma shit for her actions here. Like I mean, at least he’s AWARE he has literally no leg to stand on, whatsoever? I mean, I guess there’s that? But still. LMFAO OMG SHUT UP HANK YOU LITERALLY DON’T GET TO SAY SHIT ABOUT ANYONE ELSE BEING SHADY EVER.

Edit: Oh and also I forgot - I need to know how MUCH the Council found out about Sinister’s experiments, in particular if they found out he was ALREADY experimenting with making chimera mutants, like way ahead of schedule according to Moira’s LAST life in Powers of X, when like, the chimera mutants were a recent development as of a full hundred years in the future from now. Like, that changes a LOT and I would love to know what Xavier, Moira and Magneto think of that accelerated timetable and how it might change things.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Summer Nights: Part 3

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Overweight/Plus size Female identifying Reader

Series: Summer Nights

Warning: Fred’s death, the series will mention issues such as guilt, grief, etc. + Chapter specific warnings: guilt, self-blaming, trauma, scenes of magical healing, mentions of past childhood fatphobia/body shaming

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ (formerly imaginesofeveryfandom)​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Summary/Request: You’d always had brief glimpses of Charlie Weasley throughout your life, but despite your closeness with the rest of the Weasley family and your friendship with the Weasley Twins, you had never officially met. Until Charlie Weasley decided to take the summer off from his work as a Dragon Keeper at the Romanian Reserve and come back home, to the Burrow, that is.

Notes: Gif is my own, using my art of Charlie Weasley which you can find on my art blog @artisticwarnug here. If you use please make sure you credit me and my art blog properly, that the ownership is clear as it is my own art and I would hate for it to be unclear that I made it <3 x

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2

Dinner that night was a riotous affair. You, six Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione all crammed in around a table, reaching for the amazing food that Mrs Weasley always made. Shoulders bumped against each other, the volume reaching extraordinary heights, but as you sat there you couldn’t help but smile. This felt right. Being around all these people. So welcome. Watching the way Ginny looked up to Charlie and the way Ron and Harry joke around, while Hermione rolled her eyes at George. You’d often felt alone since Fred’s death, a distance seemed to exist in your mind between yourself and the Weasley’s, a gnawing guilt. While you lived with them there were very few moments like this, one’s where you felt like yourself again. 

As you look around the table with a smile, your eyes catch Charlie’s. A soft, small smile, shy, lifts at the corner of your mouth and you're delighted to say that Charlie smiles more with his eyes than anything else. 

When you go to bed that night you think perhaps it will be a night in which you will fall asleep easily, in which the memories won’t haunt you, in which the guilt that settles like a stone in your stomach will ease...that is a foolish belief you realise rather quickly. Your head rests against your pillow as you stare at the ceiling. 

You toss and you turn, twisting this way and that. You lie on your side for a moment, arm curled beneath your pillow, before flipping onto your back and then your front before going back to your back. You try sleeping with your head at the other end of the bed, maybe you’ll trick your brain that way. It doesn’t work. You try every trick possible, but you just can’t sleep. The frustration is clouded by other thoughts, intrusive ones, the ones you try not to dwell on because you can’t change the past and you can’t bring him back. You don’t have that kind of power, although sometimes you wished you had a time turner, you might go mad, but maybe, in the process you could bring one of your best friend’s back. Maybe you wouldn’t fail him this time. 

You lie there trying desperately to calm your mind, to silence your thoughts, to sleep, for what seems like hours. In truth it can’t have been more than an hour before you decide to just forgo all the tossing and turning and potter downstairs to make a warm cup of something and maybe nab a biscuit or two. 

The Burrow is eerily quiet at this time of night, the lights are out, the stairs creak as you pad down them, and a chill has you grabbing the knitted throw blanket from the living room on your way to the kitchen. There was never a shortage of blankets at the Burrow. Something you could thank Mrs Weasley endlessly for. 

You wrap yourself up as tightly as possible, the blanket a soothing weight across your shoulders, before putting the kettle on the stove. Despite magic being at your disposal, you always preferred to make hot drinks whether coffee, tea, hot chocolate or otherwise, the muggle way. Working with your hands, going through the motions of creating something whether food, drink, art or something else entirely, helped you calm down more often than not. You suppose it was very Hufflepuff of you, doing things the muggle way, doing things the homely way. 

You look up before he’s even at the entrance to the kitchen, you hear the footsteps softly pad down the stairs, the creek of an old floorboard, the quiet shuffling of clothes and a soft sigh of frustration. You didn’t know who you’d expected, Charlie, wasn’t it though. Perhaps Ginny or maybe Ron or even Mrs Weasley. 

The tattooed dragon that had previously been on his neck had moved, as magical tattoos are want to do. It was now laying across the other side of his neck, nearer to his shoulder, barely peeking from his sleep shirt, sleepy and annoyed looking. You wondered if it wanted to sleep but couldn’t because of Charlie’s alertness. You’d never given much thought to wizarding tattoos, but you suppose they must have some sort of personality or thought process or....something. Why else would they move? You supposed that they might work like wizarding portraits, perhaps the dragon had been a real one, its likeness etched into his skin.

His hair is out from the tie it had been in during the day, loose around his face and a sort of bird's nest that screamed ‘i’ve been tossing and turning for a while now’. During the day he’d looked so confident, put together, like everything was okay, but here, in the dark of the kitchen, with only a few little lights to provide a warm glow, he looked haggard. He looked how you felt. 

“Would you like something to drink?” You keep your voice soft. Partly knowing that the walls in the Burrow were thin, not wanting to wake the others, and partly because it didn’t seem right to speak loudly or even speak at your normal volume right now. 

He pauses for a moment, taking in the kettle on the stove that’s begun to whistle quietly, thanks to a well placed muffling charm, the blanket across your shoulders, the bags underneath your eyes. He blinks before nodding his head towards you in confirmation, a small upturn at the corner of his mouth, a polite smile not more and not less. It cannot compete with his earlier bright smile during the day. 

“Tea, please, love.” You grab a tea bag and another mug, making both your own preferred hot drink and his mug of tea. Only stopping to ask if he had sugar in his tea, for him to respond with 3, and you to not comment further despite knowing his mother would probably exclaim that 3 was 2 too many. 

You carefully hand him the mug, not wanting to spill a drop, fingers brushing against his. You note his hands are rougher than most wizards, years of hard work will do that. Most wizards and witches have soft hands, skin that only ever touched a wand. The Weasleys are some of the few you knew who relished in hard work and manual labour, some things magic helped with like chopping vegetables, but other things like collecting eggs or planting fruit in the garden seemed to them more suited to their hands. Like you they seemed to enjoy the calming nature of going through the steps, of grounding yourself with the world around you. 

You sip at your drink and study the grooves in the table, the different grains of wood, the stains and the marks. Some you know the story of. Like the burn that was caused by Ginny playing with Arthur’s wand at the age of 5. Others are the sorts of stains and marks that come from a family using it every day, from children playing and drawing and existing. 

Charlie clears his throat and you lift your eyes to his, he looks a little sheepish, “Sorry, if this is a bit...if you don’t want to talk, but can I ask why you’re not in bed?” 

The truth is that you’ve barely known Charlie a couple of days and perhaps normally you’d be reluctant to talk about anything personal, about nightmares or your guilt or your feelings. But, Charlie isn’t a complete stranger. He’s a Weasley and there has never been a Weasley you couldn’t talk to, even Percy who could be and had been an arse in the past. Even when he wasn’t around, the other’s talked about Charlie, their darling boy or their amazing brother. If you knew one Weasley you inevitably felt like you knew the rest even if you’d never met. Maybe it was that he was a Weasley, that he was Fred’s cool older brother, or maybe it was that you were lonely and fed up of hiding it all...that you knew him the least and it seemed easier to talk to someone who’d understand and yet didn’t know you well enough to push too far. Or maybe it was just that Charlie Weasley had one of those faces that made you want to talk. 

“I...I struggle to sleep these days. I’ve struggled to sleep since the battle to be honest...if it's not tossing and turning then it’s nightmares. When the lights go out the thoughts come out...”

“From what I heard you did alright. You helped people, you got a few death eaters along the way...” There was an unspoken question, ‘what do you have to be haunted about? What did you do? or what did you not do?’

“Yeah....I helped some people, used my healer training to my advantage and sure I got a few stunning spells in, but I....I couldn’t save the one person that really mattered. I couldn’t....” You breathe in a shaky breath and can already feel the tears welling in your eyes at the thought of him. A hand reaches across the table and covers your own. It’s a comforting gesture, it reminds you that you’re safe here.

“I couldn’t save Fred...I tried, y’know, I even tried muggle methods, I thought maybe if magic wouldn’t help, muggle medicine might...I thought if I could just get him breathing again he’d be okay. It would all be okay...I” You close your eyes hard, feeling the press of your lids together, the wetness welling at the corners, “It’s my fault...I don’t even know why your parents let me stay...how any of you can even look at me...if I had been a better healer, or better at defence, then Fred might still be here.”

“You can’t seriously believe that?”

You lift your eyes to his, his eyebrows are furrowed, twisted down, mouth set in a frown. “I should have been able to save him. I have helped so many people. I have stopped so many people from dying...but I couldn’t save him.” You avert your eyes, his stare feels too intense, too much.

“You’re not to blame, look at me,” He squeezes your hand, firmly, but still gentle. The other reaches forward, a finger underneath your chin to lift your face as he brings your gaze back to his and leans ever forward as if all he wants is for you to truly listen and truly believe. “You didn’t kill Fred. You didn’t cause his death. No one can bring someone back from the dead..there was nothing you or anyone else could do. Rookwood was to blame. Voldemort and his followers were to blame. Not you.” 

“Then why do I feel like I am? Like I should have done better?”

“Because we all do. Do you think Percy doesn’t blame himself? Like maybe if he’d not made a joke, not distracted Fred, he’d still be here? Do you think George doesn’t think he could have protected his own twin better? Me? I wish I'd bloody been right there, right next to him. I wish I did more and I feel the guilt of not doing more each day...We all feel like we failed him. You don’t feel guilty because you did something wrong, you feel guilty because he was your friend and you’re a good person. Good people always want to do better, even if it's not possible, love.”

“How do you do it? How do you keep going?” It feels impossible some days, the idea that you shouldn’t feel guilty or sad or angry or hurt. Some days you almost forget that he’s not here, you see George and go to ask after Fred, you think of a joke and think that you should go tell him...Some days simply getting out of bed seems impossible.

“I let it go. You can’t live in the past or else you’ll forget the present, and never look to the future. That’s what we were fighting for. That’s what Fred was fighting for, a better future. I chose to stop punishing myself for what I did or did not do because my brother would feed me a canary cream if he heard me blaming myself.”

You let out a sharp laugh, quick, unexpected even for you, and it's true. Fred wouldn’t stand for it, he wouldn’t stand for anyone blaming themselves, he’d tell you to buck up and crack a few jokes, stop hurting yourself. He was like that. Whenever he found you squirrelled away behind a tapestry, sad and crying, he always found a way to make you smile. His life’s work was getting people to smile.

“...Thank you. I know it’s not going to get better over night, but...maybe it’s time to try and stop dwelling in the past.” You stare into your empty mug for a second before rising to place it beside the sink. He’s still drinking his tea, and you, realise this whole time you hadn’t asked him why he wasn’t asleep.

“Why...why aren’t you asleep, Charlie?” You lean back against the counter to watch him, the blanket slipping off of your shoulders slightly. 

“I...I have a few old injuries that keep me up sometimes. Mostly my back, the scars I have ache a lot...but I...I sleep best on my back so...” 

It surprises that his lack of sleep was something that seemed so fixable to you, but you often had to remind yourself that most witches and wizards struggled with even basic healing charms and didn’t think in the same way that you did. Healing was a skill and knowing the right solution to a problem took both natural intuition and training.

“Do you...have you ever learnt lenio?” You move closer to him, throwing the blanket off of your shoulders and onto the back of your chair. Each step shows your healer nature as you itch to get closer and have a look at the problem, to solve it like you do every day of the week. 

“Uh, I’ve never heard of it?”

“Oh...I suppose you’re probably used to being given potions for pain, they usually last longer, don’t rely on the witch or wizard’s will power. It’s a...a pain relief spell, it works on a great deal. I...Hermione’s scar hurts a lot so I taught her it, but her scar’s easy for her access...you could always see me before you go to sleep each night and I can administer it. It’s considered outdated because of potions but I find that it’s most effective for scarring or pains that distract or make you unfocused and people don’t get as reliant.”

“Does...does it last awhile?”

“It varies on the caster’s strength of thought, I typically find when I cast it it lasts anywhere between 12 hours to a day, some people it can last minutes. Hermione manages to make it last around 8 hours. It’s why it fell out of fashion, not a lot of wizards or witches have the aptitude for it.” Potions had become easier. Easier to make. Easier to administer and more predictable when duration was involved. But, pain relief potions could be addictive and you always found yourself leaning towards charms and spells over potions, where possible. 

“Before you...before you go to bed could you cast it? I’d really like to get some sleep, love.”

Nod with a small smile, easing the tension in Charlie’s shoulders just that little bit. That famous bedside manner of yours pushing its way to the surface. 

“You said it was your back?” You ask as you reach for your wand in the waistband of your pyjama shorts. He nods at you, “First year on the reserve a Hungarian Horntail decided he didn’t like me very much...never told mum.” You let out a little laugh at that, the thought of Mrs Weasley’s reaction was rather comical in your mind. While she could be fearsome, she was also known for her over the top and sometimes melodramatic responses. 

You understand why he chose not to tell her. Mrs Weasley could be overbearing in her protectiveness and you’re sure she would never have let him work on the reserve again, no matter how much he loved it. “Could you...um, disrobe for me.” You ignore the nerves in your stomach and try to get into the healer mindset, you’ve seen plenty of patients wear even less and it was never a problem before. You weren’t going to let Charlie Weasley taking his shirt off get to you. You’d seen him without it early that day and surely he couldn’t affect you quite so much the second time.

Or that’s what you told yourself before you found yourself gazing at him a little too long. Truth was Charlie was an attractive man, even fully dressed and the beauty of his torso was not diminished by you having seen it previously. Up close you noticed things that you hadn’t earlier in the day. Scars of various types caught your eye, a few bite marks you recognised well as various types of dragon, scratches, burn marks, his body told the story of a dragon keeper who had known pain and yet still enjoyed his job. He was covered in freckles head to toe, or at least what you could see of his body, and red hair that criss crossed his arms and his chest. The dragon had moved from his shoulder and neck area, stalking its way across his left ribs, breathing little spouts of fire.

You cleared your throat and gestured for him to turn his back towards you. You could see it was covered in scars, a large portion was burn scarring, but there were claw marks too. You placed a hand gently on the top of his shoulder and gently pushed him forward so that you could get a better look. Your other hand softly trailed over the skin, examining the depths of the scars, making an assessment of what sort of scarring it was. “These were healed poorly, did you not go to the reserve healer?” You could tell they could have been healed better, they would have left a mark certainly, but with less pain you were sure. It was, in truth, a rather shoddy job. 

“Oh, I went...he’s just not very good.” You scoff, not very good was an understatement and you wrecked your brain for anyway you could fix the damage done. You’d never seen wounds healed so poorly or such extensive scarring caused by magical healing, you think that they might have healed better on their own.  

“This was about nine years ago, correct?” You watch the back of Charlie’s head move up and down in a nod, “He used a mending charm.” You scoff, irritation strong within you.

“Is that wrong?”

“They’re meant for objects not people, it’s why you have so much scarring, why it hurts...I just wonder...I wonder if...I know you just wanted me to do a quick lenio, Charlie...but I’d like to try something, I have absolutely no idea if any of the spells I know will work, but I might be able to permanently reduce the pain, and the damage.”

“You couldn’t do that with Hermione?”

“Her scar is the product of dark magic...that’s...we’re still trying to figure out how to undo that sort of injury, but this is normal in comparison. I could make it worse or I could make it better or it could do nothing...”

“Love,” he looks over his shoulder at you, eyes surprisingly full of mirth, “I doubt you could make it worse, give it your best shot.” 

You think through all the healing spells you know and you contemplate the nature of this. It isn’t an open wound or a broken bone, but it is damaged flesh, scar tissue so mangled it hurts and you think deep about your time at St Mungo’s, the many healer’s you’ve known and learnt from and you think of your own experience creating spells, melding your wants, desires, outcomes, into a single word, a single channel for your magic. You use his confidence in you and your desire to see his pain reduced or undone as a force behind the words that leave your mouth without even thinking and the almost natural movement of your wand. 

“Renovare” It’s not a spell you know and yet, as you speak the words and channel your magic through your wand, you know what it does and you know what it’s purpose is. Renew. To fix what isn’t wounded, but is damaged, to heal what has been healed poorly. You watch delicate streams of pearlescent light, flickering between white and pink and teal, fall over the scars and break them apart delicately before rehealing wounds. You hear Charlie hiss and squeeze his shoulder in reassurance that everything is working the way it should and that you’re sorry it hurts. The scars that are left behind are less angry, closer to the skin, and less like knotted damaged tissue. Perhaps had you been there when it happened, there would be no scars at all, but unmending and re-mending a wound is not so perfect or simple. You have the presence of mind to realise this is a new spell, of your own creation, and that you should write all of this down before you go to sleep tonight. This spell could be a breakthrough for wizarding medicine, at least where angry scars that cause pain are concerned. You’re so focused on fixing his pain that this realisation doesn’t bring you the pride it should, after all, not many witches or wizards could simply create a spell.

There’s something satisfying about watching the process, the breaking open of skin and the regrowth of new. The new scars looking as you’d want them to be, knowing that you have fixed the work of a poor healer and hopefully, in the process, stopped the pain that causes Charlie’s lack of sleep. 

You run your hand over the new scars once you’re done, checking the thickness of the scar tissue, his dragon has moved to his back now, curiously dancing around your fingers, nipping as if it could catch them. You get the feeling that it is grateful for your work. “Does it hurt at all? or...at least is the pain lesser?”

“It’s...it’s sore, like i’ve just come off the quidditch pitch, but it doesn’t hurt. Not like it used to.”

“Mmm...,” you continue your observations for a while, asking more questions about how it feels as you go, “I suspect the soreness will go, I have just broken your scars open and re-healed them...they look better, proper healing work, none of that bollocks from before.” You find your patience for bad healers always to be quite small, healing was serious business, people’s lives, their feelings were at risk and bad healers, in your opinion, simply shouldn’t exist. 

“I...thank you for letting me try I...”

“I’ve never heard that spell before.”

“That’s because I just created it.” He looks at you as you expect, surprised and a little bit in awe. Most wizards and witches can’t just make their own spells, you know this, but your experience with Fred and George had taught you a few things. The two of them had always innately created their own charms and potions, and they taught you how it should feel, how to focus, how to think, how to tap into that part of yourself that was purely magic, that knew without words what it could and wanted to do. 

“That’s...impressive.”

“Your brothers’, they’re...they were...George and Fred have always...” You sigh in frustration, it is so hard to find the right tense now. George is here and Fred is not, but they're a pair, not individuals and it feels wrong to...to leave one out. He’s patient with you, soft eyes, a reassuring smile as a hand reaches for yours and gives a quick squeeze. “When we were in school, the twins just knew how to make their own spells...all their products are their own work and creation...they taught me how to...how to tap into that part of me, the part that knows what to do. I’ve not done it in years, I've not had need to...I just knew what I wanted to happen and I let myself guide me.” You smile at him softly, round cheeks pushing upwards with your smile. His eyes are darting curiously across your face as if seeking out the answer to some question only he knew. 

There’s a look of surprise behind the curiosity. You can see it, that he never fully realised just how brilliant his brothers’ were. Most of the people who meet...met the twins underestimated their abilities, but they were brilliant. Sometimes you just have to look past the laughter, the jokes and the ostentatious colours. 

“Thank you...thank you for this,” He gestures to his back, “and thank you for teaching me something about the twins that I...that I failed to realise myself. We’ve always undervalued them, I love them...loved...but, even I saw them as jokers and never...never realise the work they put in.”

“Brilliant, that’s how I describe them. Insane. Terribly immature at times. Quick to anger, like most Weasleys, but brilliant and kind...” You look off into the distance, eyes losing focus for a second, “have I told...has anyone told you how I became friends with the twins?”

“I always assumed they just wouldn’t leave you alone,” It’s a cheeky smile that makes you laugh, “that would be rather like them.” You lean against the table, thick thigh pressing lightly against the outside of his knee as you think back on how you met the twins. 

“In truth...it’s not a wholly happy story. But it’s not entirely sad either, meeting them was the best thing that ever happened to me. They gave me friendship, companionship, knowledge, protection, and family. They gave me a wizarding family that would always support me and I don’t think at the age of eleven I truly understood the importance that your family would play in my life. Now, I couldn’t live without them.” You turn your eyes on him with a soft smile. 

“We have a way about us...Weasley’s collect people, I think. We’re never happy alone, we like a full house, we like fighting over a bathroom in the morning and cramming around the table. Mum loves adding people to the family, and I'm sure the moment she met you she knew you’d be the newest addition.” You smile at that. You wonder if a Weasley could ever truly be happy alone. While Charlie lived away from his family, you were sure, judging by his little smile, that the distance was hard on him and that he probably surrounded himself with friends and colleagues to feel that familiarity. 

“It was my first year and I was crying…” You look up at the ceiling, the wood beams that cross it, the hanging pots and drying herbs. “I was behind the tapestry on the 5th floor...there’s this little room behind it and I found it by accident, I’m rather clumsy,” You laugh and look back at him. It startles you a little to realise you have his undivided attention, but it also pleases you, to know that he’s listening, that he values what you have to say even if it's just a silly little story. 

“I was bawling really, none of that quiet dainty crying. It was rather horrible actually...they must have heard, said I sounded like Moaning Myrtle which just upset me more...they sat beside and they asked ‘what’s happened? Who do we need to prank?’' It was ever so Fred and George even back when you were all just eleven. Their solution to a problem was often either pranking the person responsible or starting a fight with them. The latter was your least favourite of the two.

“Sounds like them, although I wouldn't have been surprised if they offered to throw a few punches...we have hot tempers.”

“You seem awfully mild mannered for a Weasley to me?” It was true, Charlie and Bill both seemed like two calm individuals, at least compared to Ginny or Ron or even Mrs Weasley. All of whom were known for their explosive, passionate tempers. 

“Well, love, you’ve never seen me nearly tear the Ravenclaw quidditch captain a new one after a blatant display of cobbing...Although, i’m definitely less fiery than Ginny. She scares me a little sometimes.”

“She is prone to bouts of violence,” You love it about her though, her quickness to defend others, her bravery. If there ever was a Gryffindor it certainly was Ginevra. “Either way, they offered pranking services rather than violence...good move on their part, I suspect I would have been terrified of them had they offered to break someone’s nose…”

“So who or what made you cry? Homesick?”

“No...I mean, I was homesick, but that wasn’t what had me crying behind that tapestry...it was boys actually. They’d been picking on me, all years, all ages, all houses, for the first few weeks of my life at Hogwarts. Sometimes it was my hair...and other times it was my teeth, sometimes it was the fact I was muggle born...but mostly, it was that I was fat,” You see he rearing up to say something at the word, but you stop him before he can speak, “I am fat. Charlie, that’s not an insult to me, I can be a million wonderful things, and fat is just a descriptor. I am fat and a hufflepuff and I am pretty and I am brave and I am terribly dedicated to my work. But back then...the way they used it. That was an insult. I was fat, I was a whale, a pig, or some other creature they could demean me with. They said I was ugly and unworthy and ‘who’d want to date you?’...I wasn’t even old enough to care about dating, but they made me feel like I was unlovable...and then your brothers came along.”

You smile at him, at the hand he’s placed on your knee in reassurance, the hand that doesn’t stay there too long out of respect for you. He’s listening now, truly, there is no desire to butt in, to interject, because he realises that you do not unjustly hate your body. You are simply telling a story. “After that they never let anyone say a bad word about me...they protected me and I protected them too...you’ve not seen a thing until you’ve seen a hufflepuff fly at Draco Malfoy with the intent to maim.” You quirk a lip thinking of all the times you’d nearly hurt the boy, he was better now, you could have a civil conversation, but Merlin, he’d been terrible in school.

“Should I worry for my personal safety?” Charlie laughs, leaning back away from you as if you might attack at any moment, but it is all play and it makes you chuckle. “I think you’re safe, dragon boy…”

There’s a comfortable silence in which your leg pressed against Charlie’s as you leant against the table, Charlie leaning back in his chair. It’s the sort of silence that feels like companionship, there is no pressure in your chest to speak, no feeling that the silence was wrong, no strange buzzing in your chest. 

“I’m glad they looked out for you...you deserve to have people who look after you the way you look after them.”

“You...you barely know me.” You look at him through your lashes, feeling shy, bashful at the kind words. He just gives you a stunningly soft smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“True, but in the short time I have known you you’ve been nothing but kind, caring, and you even invented a spell simply to help me. Love, that says more than anything else about you. You care about people...and people should care about you too.” The tenderness should scare you, intimidate you, instead it makes warmth blossom in your chest and happy tears well in your eyes because no one has ever said something so kind. Even when you doubt how useful you are, even with the guilt, it means so much to hear someone acknowledge the kindness you give, the care you provide, and not take it for granted. It is this that makes you realise how desperately you want to keep Charlie Weasley in your life, even simply as a friend because he cares so deeply about people and because he doesn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed to share those thoughts or feelings that would matter most to a person. 

It is with those words and thoughts in your head that the two of you say goodnight and you return to your bed, the blankets don’t feel irritating anymore, your head does not buzz with bad thoughts. While it is hard to go to sleep it is not out of guilt or anger or sadness, but a sort of giddiness that you haven’t felt in so long. You fall asleep with a smile.

[brywrites]

Flight Risk VII

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part V: In which there are some distances that must be maintained and others that are simply begging to be crossed.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous |  Next )

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Something is off. She can tell by the way Spencer sits alone, looking so focused on a book that it’s clear he’s not actually paying attention to it. He’s trying to give the impression he’s busy. He doesn’t want to be bothered. There is a tension he carries, and she notices that JJ carries it too. They wait on opposite ends of the hangar. When it’s time to board, she peeks out from the cockpit and notices they’re sitting on opposite ends of the plane. JJ is curled up in a blanket, staring blankly out the window. Spencer stares down at the book he’s clearly not reading.

Y/N wishes she could lighten the burden the same way a plane suddenly seems weightless at the moment of liftoff. This large thing speeding down a runway is propelled into the air and lift and thrust make physics feel like magic. There’s a strong bout of turbulence over the Great Plains, and she and Arthur have to focus on keeping Geff as steady as possible. In a smaller jet like this, an air pocket can feel so much rougher than it would on a commercial liner. One they navigate through it, it’s smooth sailing. The sun is setting behind them as they travel through time zones back to the east coast. The sky around them turns from orange to pink to violet. The stars begin to appear, blinking their salutations.

As they get closer to the airfield, she calls out over the radio. “This is niner-two-two Foxtrot Bravo, checking in, requesting clearance to land at Quantico base.”

“Foxtrot Bravo, enter the holding pattern at Quantico base, while runway is cleared maintain seven thousand feet,” replies a controller.

“Foxtrot Bravo, roger, hold at Quantico. Maintain seven thousand feet,” she echoes back. Together she and Arthur adjust the instruments, setting the proper altitude and speed, and reset the Chronometer. There’s a few planes in the queue ahead of them, and they enter the holding pattern, circling slowly around the sky. So close to home.

She asks, “Do you think something’s wrong?”

“At the base?” Arthur asks. He begins to initiate their first left turn. “Holding patterns are quite standard.”

“No, I mean with the team,” she says. “I don’t know something just seems… off. It’s unusual.”

“Y/L/N. It’s not our job.” They’re not profilers. Their concerns are with the navigation instruments and smooth landings and weather conditions. Not the behavior of people around them. “I need you present when we’re flying. Not worrying about whatever horrors they’ve seen on a case.”

She nods. “Sorry, sir.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I know you care. And I know you’ve found friends with them. But I’ve told you before – they don’t let people in. And it’s best if we try not to get involved.”

The controller cuts in before she can reply. “Foxtrot Bravo, cleared to land, runway Romeo seven.”

“Cleared to land, runway Romeo seven, Foxtrot Bravo,” she says. She can be present. She can be here, in this seat, doing what she loves. And that can be enough, can’t it? She can ignore the text from Penelope Garcia inviting her to join her and the female agents for a drink this weekend. She can stop finding reasons to spend more time with Spencer than she needs to. She can be objective.

Arthur addresses the agents they’re supposed to stay away from. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’ve just been cleared to land at Quantico base. Please make sure your seat belts are securely fastened and all personal items are stowed away.” His voice reaching to another part of the plane, another world.

On final approach, they guide Geff back down to the ground, a beautifully smooth landing.

“Welcome back to Quantico, Virginia,” Arthur says into the speaker. “Local time is 7:15 PM and the temperature is thirty-nine degrees Fahrenheit. Please wait until we have parked at the gate to move about the cabin. And as always, please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as items may have shifted during the flight.”

She and Arthur sit in the cockpit, the sound of agents shuffling out down the stairs muffled behind them. “You know,” he says, “Malik wants to have a dinner party soon. Maybe next weekend you and Martin could come over. He could bring Theresa and the baby. It might be nice, to spend some time altogether.” Their little misfit crew of pilots.

She’s not sure if it’s his way of apologizing for earlier, or perhaps a way to remind her of her own team and duties, but she says, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

They collect their own go-bags and descend the stairs. When the door has been closed once more and they turn the corner to leave, she’s startled by the familiar figure waiting by the hangar lockers. He’s busying himself with staring at the walls around him, but when he hears them, he lifts his head and looks right at her. As if asking permission.

Y/N glances at Arthur, who just sighs and shakes his head. “Go on then,” he says. “I think it’s too late when it comes to this one.”

With his blessing, she walks over to Spencer. “Hey,” she says. “Is everything okay?” Though if it were, he wouldn’t be standing here.

“Um… not – not really. I’m sorry, I know it’s late. But would you mind giving me a ride home? I’ll order us takeout to make up for it. I uh, ­– I was hoping that maybe we could talk. If that’s okay?” He adjusts the strap of his messenger bag. “I just need someone to talk to right now, and I really want it to be you.”

How can she say no to that? “I’ll grab my car from the lot. Should I meet you outside of the Bureau building?”

“Yeah. That’d be great. There’s something I have to finish first.”

Soon enough she’s parked under the awning of the Academy entrance, waiting for him. She starts the engine up when she spots him coming out of the double doors, pulling his coat a little tighter against the chill of the winter air. His eyes trail curiously over her car before he opens the door to get in. It occurs to her that he’s never seen her car before.

“What?” she asks. “Is this not what you were expecting?”

“I guess after your conversation with Garcia I was expecting your taste to be… more flashy?”

Y/N laughs. Her blue Prius is far from flashy. “Well, as much as I’d love to drive a Plymouth Fury or a vintage Ferrari, I thought I should get something that’s a bit more kind to the environment if I’m burning jet fuel all day, and a Prius is a decent hybrid. Not to mention, it’s got a great safety rating. Do you know how much more dangerous it is to fly than it is to drive?”

“On average, it’s about nineteen times more dangerous. The odds of dying as a result of a car accident in the United States are roughly 1 in 114, but the odds of dying in an aviation accident is closer to 1 in 9,821. You’re far more likely to die from choking on food than in a plane crash.”

“Of course you know that.” She grins at him, letting him know that she’s not making fun of him. She’s impressed by him. She always is. “I don’t know why I bother asking at this point.” The smile he offers in return is only half-hearted. The drive into the District is quiet. Given the tension she felt earlier, she decides not to push him for conversation. Yeeqin is away visiting her sister for the weekend so she offers to take them back to her apartment. He calls to order takeout to be delivered from the Indian place around the corner. They arrive at her place only moments before the food does, fortuitous timing.

It feels strangely intimate to invite him in. She’s been to his apartment twice for their LOST marathon, but this is the first time he’s seeing her space. She wonders what it looks like through his eyes, what a profiler can discern about her life from the books on the coffee table and the pictures on the walls. They sit at the tiny kitchen table she usually shares only with Yeeqin and split the samosas down the middle.

“So what’s going on?” she asks, taking a sip of mango lassi.

Spencer purses his lips and pushes the tikka masala around on his plate before answering. Whatever has happened is still bothering him. “This case was hard,” he says. “There was a cult. They were separating kids from their families and it just became something awful. Seeing someone taking advantage of all these people who put their trust in him, it just… I try to distance myself from things when I’m in the field, you know? I try to be objective and treat it like a puzzle, but it’s not. And sometimes it’s harder to keep that distance.”

“Yeah. I know.” She doesn’t have to push down her emotions to solve a killer, but she does know the difficulties of keeping one’s distance. Of trying not to feel something.

“The case was hard enough, but then I had a… a fight, I guess with a team member. Not like we were arguing more just, like I made them upset I guess. And I didn’t mean to. But I think in trying to be helpful, in trying to be objective, I hurt them. I think that I know things or that I understand people because of this job and then when I don’t… I feel like I’ve failed.”

“I’m sure you haven’t,” she says.

“They were struggling with something. And I thought breaking it down to a science would make it easier. Maybe because that helps me. But it just made things worse and then I didn’t know how else to comfort them.”

“What happened, exactly?” she asks.

Spencer hesitates. “Uh, I can’t – I can’t really say. It’s not mine to share.”

“Oh. Of course.” But it stings slightly. You can’t get close to them. Arthur’s words of warning echo in her head. They don’t let people in. After all this time, she’d begun to think that maybe it was different. Maybe they would trust her – maybe he would trust her. But perhaps the BAU is still an impenetrable world, one she’ll never truly be welcome in. Even now. Even with him. He still won’t let her in.

He looks down. “I hate knowing that the way I am made someone I care about feel worse. I don’t have a lot of friends outside my team. And sometimes I wonder if maybe that’s because I’m not a very good one.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she says, trying to push her own frustrations aside.

“It is. The only people I’m close to who aren’t colleagues are my mom, a former colleague, and… well, I guess my girlfriend. Before she died.”

The words instantly steal her breath. She had no idea. “Spencer, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay, it was two years ago, and I don’t usually talk about it. But it’s just so easy with you. I feel like I can tell you anything.”

The sting subsides. The way he looks at her so softly like a salve for the bitterness. He’s trying. He is letting her in. He is sharing things with her he doesn’t usually share. And small bit of knowledge lifts her hopes once more.

“Well I’m glad about that. And thank you, for telling me. Although I guess what I was trying to say was that I don’t think it’s true that you’re not a good friend. I mean, I haven’t even known you a whole year and I think you’re one of the best people I know. You’re thoughtful. You’re smart. You have a tendency to be passive aggressive sometimes,” she teases, and he nods in bashful acknowledgement. “But you’re a good friend. And I’m really, really happy that you’re my friend.”

“Me too,” he says. “I really like having you in my life.”

They stand at the sink together, washing the few dishes they’ve used, and she tries not to think about the way his arm rests against hers, his fingers touching hers when she hands him a plate to dry.

“I want to be a good friend to you,” Spencer tells her. “Which means I should probably ask how you’re doing now that I’ve talked about myself so much.”

“I’m good,” she answers. “I guess I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to belong somewhere. My parents haven’t spoken to me since I took this job.  I think they had higher expectations for me and I don’t think any of us really knows how to start to repair this rift between us. So it’s been strangely lonely. But I have Yeeqin, and our neighbors. I have Arthur, and Martin. And I think I’m finally starting to feel like I have a place with this job. Like I belong here.”

“Of course you do, Y/N. I mean we all think you’re great. Garcia always asks me about you. Ever since you came along, things have been different. Flying feels different. You’ve become part of the team. Not that Captain Dobson wasn’t,” he adds quickly. “But I get the sense he likes to keep a distance from things, while you…” He pauses, looking for the right words. When they don’t seem to come he just smiles. “You’re you. And you fit right it in.”

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry, though. About your family. You have a gift for flying. And for lifting people’s spirits. I don’t understand how who you are wouldn’t make them proud.”

Flying is her gift. Something she has always intrinsically understood. The world makes so much more sense to her from the sky. But it’s nice to know that someone outside of her world of aviators sees it as something worthwhile. It’s not just jet-setting and traveling and steering. It requires communication, a knowledge of physics and the earth and the weather. An ability to think fast and act faster.

Spencer sees her. He understands her. And he knows exactly what to say to make her feel at home.

“See?” she says, gently elbowing him. “You are a good friend.”

She decides that there has been enough trauma bonding for the night, and scoops them both a bowl of ice cream. They sit on her couch and she flips through the channels before settling on one playing one of her favorite old movies, Sabrina. It’s a nice way to unwind, with a the soft distraction of the television and the sweetness of the ice cream. And the simple pleasure of sitting beside each other.

Humphrey Bogart is sitting in the back of a car as his beloved Sabrina’s father, the chauffer, reprimands him. “I like to think of life as a limousine. Though we are all riding together, we must remember our places. There’s a front seat and a back seat and a window in between.”

Y/N is struck by the parallels. A cockpit and a cabin. A door in the middle. Two completely different worlds, inhabited by heroes who save the day and the pilots who ferry them from place to place. It’s easy to imagine Arthur saying those exact words to her, trying to protect her from her own heart.

Then she feels Spencer’s hand against her own. Glancing down as subtly as she can, she finds his pinky and ring finger stretched out over her own. So close it might be an accident. Maybe it is. But maybe for tonight she can let herself pretend it isn’t. Let herself believe that she is allowed to be close to him. Testing the waters, she slowly leans her head against his shoulder. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. But he does, seconds later, respond in kind, resting his head against the top of hers. It’s warm, and his cardigan is soft against her cheek. Is this really the same man who didn’t want to shake her hand when they first met? Now they sit together, not quite embracing, but close. It’s so gentle. It feels so tender.

Neither of them says a word. They just sit there, in silence, sharing the same space.

And then the next thing she knows, she is blinking awake in the morning light. Her arm is around his waist. His hand on her shoulder. Her back incredibly stiff from falling asleep sitting up. The television is still softly playing.

She carefully pulls her arm away and sits up. His hand falls away from hers. She isn’t sure what is okay and what is too soon and what this is even supposed to be. What they are supposed to be. Y/N carefully inches to the opposite end of the couch and lies back down, pretending to still be asleep. But she stretches her leg out and allows her ankle to touch his. Holding on to some little connection. Soon, he awakes himself, and she pretends to startled out of slumber by his movements. Spencer looks at her, at their tangled legs, at her bedhead, and laughs. And she does too, giggling at how tired they must have been to fall asleep like that, how silly. How incredibly comfortable next to each other.

They walk downstairs and grab coffee and pastries at the bakery next to her building. She drives him home. He concedes that she’s far better at the helm of any vehicle than he could ever hope to be. She stops outside his building and he grabs his satchel and coffee.

Door open, he pauses, turns to her and says, “Thanks for this, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Doctor.”

He climbs out of the car. “Bye,” he says. “I l-” He blinks. “Um. I – I’ll see you on Monday.”

He closes the door. She waits until he gets into the building to start the ignition again, but lingers there on the curbside a few minutes more. Wondering what he would have said if he’d woken up to find them with their arms around each other like that. Wondering what exactly they are to each other.

[butiaintgonnaloveem]

Keep Me Company

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x Reader

Word Count: Approx 3300

Warnings: Adult language and situations, non-overly graphic sexual times

A/N: Written and submitted for @wi-deangirl77​‘s That’s Some Supernatural Schitt writing challenge. Thanks for being patient!! And my gosh, @plaidstiel-wormstache​ was a magician with her beta skills.

Set sometime after S12. Arthur Ketch and the woman in this story have an established relationship. You know how it goes, something casual develops into something more...maybe.

Arrogant.

That’s what he is, but the word’s not sharp enough to be an insult. Not one he’d care about anyway.

“You seem a bit wound up. Something on your mind?” he asks.

She wants to tell him that she hates him. It’s the easy thing to do. It’s not even like he’s a good person, but it wouldn’t be true and he’d see it for exactly what it is - antagonism.

Always polite, patient, and god damn glorious in bed. He’s done nothing outright to deserve such wrath, either. Except for doing nothing out of the ordinary at all.

“How so?” she tries for casual and evidently fails based on the look of annoyance he throws her way.

“You’re quiet. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re bored.” 

“Well…” she trails off, unsure of what to say or how to say it. She knew what came next - sex. Of course, before that there were drinks. Her glass would never be empty, from bar to table to the hotel suite, which is not usually the issue. Then there was dinner, followed by a dessert that would be left unfinished at the table. As she mulls it all over, she wonders if maybe that was where this night went wrong; unfinished thoughts clouded by alcohol, or maybe the wine was too relaxing. Either way, the brain to mouth filter malfunction was unstoppable.

“You should be nicer to me,” she blurts out.

That gets an eyebrow lift in response, then a squint as he thinks over her words. “I do believe I have behaved like the gentleman I was raised to be.”

“That’s not,” she heaves a sigh as she collects her thoughts, “I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then by all means, please elaborate,” he says as he sets the cloth napkin on the table and sits back. He’s letting her pick this fight and he knows it.

“I don’t appreciate being put on the spot.”

“I don’t appreciate my companion keeping secrets from me.”

That word. So emotionless and generic. It’s what sets her off.

“You know that you sound like Humperdinck?”

“What?”

“Your voice, your accent. You sound like Prince Humperdinck from ‘The Princess Bride.’ He was an arrogant asshole too.”

His lips purse and she watches the corner of his mouth twitch. “What, exactly, does that have to do with our evening?”

“Nothing. It just annoys me.”

He scrutinizes her, “I see.” He calls for the check and doesn’t bother to initiate further conversation. He still gets up first and helps to pull out her chair for her. Then guides her with a hand at her waist, and steps forward to open doors.

The car ride is silent aside from the quiet music playing and while it’s not comfortable, she’s also foolishly not telling him the night is over. Her back aches from the tension and from twisting her body to face away from him and toward the window. The dark tinted glass doesn’t give much of a view of the outside, but she can watch his reflection from time to time as it catches the light and catches him with that damn smirk of his.

Arrogant and smug, what a combination.

When they finally make it into the hotel suite, he drops the careful grin he used in public, twisting his neck with obvious annoyance.

“Well now, shall we talk like adults or do you plan to insult me for the evening?” He pulls the door closed behind her and then moves to the closet, meanwhile she stands still in the entryway of the suite, stubborn. 

“I can do both.”

“As fun as that sounds, it’s not what I had in mind for our time together.” He removes his jacket and hangs it in the closet, smoothing down its front before turning back to her.

“Right, because that would mess up your routine, and here we are already ahead of schedule.” She turns so the zipper of her dress is facing him, “Go ahead, let’s do this.”

He pauses with one hand at the knot of his tie, ready to loosen it. Again, the look of scrutiny aimed her way. “Ahead of schedule? What does that mean?”

She turns to him and sighs, her expression flat, she was fed up. “It means, Arthur, that every time we do this, it’s the same thing. A call, a fancy dinner, drinks, dessert, then back to the hotel suite, another drink, you undress me and then we end up in bed.”

“It’s more than that,” he argues half-heartedly, “And you’ve never left unsatisfied.” It almost sounds like a question, or perhaps an accusation.

“That’s true, but…”

“But what?” he steps closer, hands in his pockets and face unreadable.

“Does this mean anything to you?” Her face burns hot, hating herself immediately for how needy it sounds.

He stares, his face unchanging. His breathing measured and posture the usual - upright and commanding. 

Her body burns hot and cold while her stomach twists and flips. She’s afraid to move because just about anything might set off the instinct to cry at the moment, either from anger or embarrassment. She tries to keep the tremble from her voice as she asks the next question on her mind. 

“Maybe this one is easier: would you miss me if you never saw me again?”

“You know that in this line of work--” He begins, calm, rehearsed, but it angers her further.

Arrogant, smug, and standoffish.

“I am not asking for promises. Jesus Christ, I know exactly how things are, I don’t need a speech about how we might die on a hunt, about how we need to focus on the bigger picture. Okay? I know all of that.” Her face falls, “I also know that you are not the heartless killing machine that people describe you as.”

He opens his mouth to deny it but she cuts him off. 

“No! No, Arthur. I mean, yes, you kill, but you’re allowed to care for people too. Like it or not, you cared for Toni in some way I will never understand, and,” she hesitates, “And there was Mary Winchester.”

He visibly reels just at the name, but does well to keep control over his reaction, not letting much more out even as he speaks. “Why? Admitting something like that puts us both in danger, allows others to use it against you, and for what? A moment of happily ever after? To satisfy your curiosity or to feel as though you’ve won?”

“You’re not void of emotion, no matter how hard those bastards tried to beat it out of you. I feel like you care, and I’ll admit that I want you to. But whether you honestly do or don’t, I just don’t want to feel like a whore you pay for with an expensive meal and a hot shower. If nothing else, don’t you at least consider me a friend? Or is ‘companion’ really the best I am ever gonna get?”

In a blink, he resets to a more neutral expression, lips only slightly pursed as he thinks. “Is all this really because I called you my companion at dinner?” He turns and moves to a marble counter, pouring the bourbon into two tumbler glasses. He hands one to her and out of habit, she takes it, hand trembling, holding it to her chest as she watches him take a large sip. 

“I don’t need you to tell me anything that isn’t true.” Her gaze drops to the amber liquid in the glass, “I don’t need promises or anything else. But, what I do want is to know that I am not just a placeholder, or a warm body.” Looking back up, she checks he’s listening, seeing if her words are hitting their mark, “I care about you, and I would sure as hell miss you if you left my life after tonight. I just...I just want to know that...God this all sounds so much worse than I imagined.” She turns and paces away, fingers swiping along her bottom lashes to collect the tears gathering.

“I thought you weren’t asking for promises,” he accuses.

“I’m not!” She erupts. She immediately realizes it was the wrong reaction as he squares his shoulders and widens his stance for an argument. After taking a sip and letting it slowly roll down her throat, she softens her tone and tries another approach, “I’m asking for emotion, for you to tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see a difference.” 

Arrogant, smug, standoffish, and dense. 

“You’re serious?”

“I would hardly call myself an expert on this subject. And by subject, I mean genuine human emotion. Though, you know, it never ends well for those who want the best of both worlds. Believe me, it’s best to draw the line right there.” He tells her, using his free hand to indicate an imaginary line, but failing to meet her eyes.

And there it is, slight as could be, but still a chink in his armor. There was the man she knew wanted affection, but denied himself at every turn.

“Yeah, I am getting that. For all your skills picked up from the Men of Letters, how are you so terrible at this?” She takes another sip from her glass, “Nevermind. Do not answer that.” 

Arrogant, smug, standoffish, dense, abstentious.

She takes a moment, weighing the pros and cons of her thought before expressing it out loud, “Do you think that avoiding happiness is going to keep you from being hurt?”

He scoffs, slipping the tie loose from his collar and pulling it from around his neck. In an uncharacteristic move, Arthur drops it onto the chair nearby instead of neatly setting it away. He sips on his drink while considering the question, eyes wandering like the answer might suddenly appear written on the walls. Moments pass during the quiet, but when he finally lifts his head to speak, his expression has softened.

“I don’t avoid happiness.” He talks as he sets his drink down and moves towards her, “I have plenty in my life to keep me happy,” he takes her drink from her hand, “I try, and evidently fail, to avoid attachment or sentiment.”

He takes her hand, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing across her knuckles, then turning it over and gently placing a kiss to her palm. He then turns her hand again, leaning his cheek into it, meeting her curious gaze. 

“I see the weakness in those who invest too much in others. I’ve felt it in myself. Misplaced expectations and projections of fears and needs muddling things up.” He grips her other hand and holds it between their chests, tight but not too tight. It’s meant to keep her attention on him, not that she could focus on anything else when he’s that close and unguarded.

“With something to lose it’s nearly impossible to make the hard choices, and that is who I am. I’m the one called in for the less appealing jobs; someone with nothing to lose and no one to leave behind.”

“Arthur,” she whispers, heart aching and chest tight with hurt. But not by his words this time, by the truth in his tone. Hurt for him.

“It’s alright, love. It’s the role I play,” He lets their hands drop from his cheek, his grip loose in her hand, but she clutches it tighter. 

“Do you really believe you wouldn’t leave anything behind?” She asks, watching him, waiting for another flicker, some small flinch to indicate he would let himself have this.

He frowns at her, like an animal that can see so plainly the object of desire, and yet knows there’s a trap they can’t make out. He pulls his hand from hers and turns.

“Nothing but ghosts, and maybe a few women,” He huffs, trying to turn the heaviness of the question into a joke. 

That’s it, that’s the last rejection she can take. She turns for the door, even opens it, before he’s in front of her, stopping her, eyes full of terror for abandonment. 

“Don’t leave,” tries to order, but winces at the desperation in his voice. 

“Ask me to stay,” She whispers. “Or tell me that I mean nothing to you and let me leave. You really can’t be that desperate for a fuck, can you?” She stares at him dead-on, letting him hear it in her words, and read it in her body language that she isn’t bluffing. 

“I…” He clears his throat, straightens his shoulders, trying to gain control of the situation, while fidgeting with discomfort.  When he doesn’t say anything, she makes another move for the door behind him.

“Stay.” He watches her, as if unaware he’s said it. 

Vulnerable. A word she never thought she would use for him.

She doesn’t need him to say it again, she heard it loud and clear. It doesn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction as she stares back and eloquently asks, “What?”

“You know, I don’t often make requests unless I am certain I will get what I want,” he tries for the usual Ketch swagger, but it sounds more broken than anything.

“I couldn’t have been more clear that all you had to do was ask.”

“Then stay?”

They watch each other for a few seconds, making certain that neither would move. She lets go of the door, allowing it to slam shut behind her, then puts a hand at the back of his neck and pulls him in to kiss her. He’s pliant, but steady as he goes along with her guidance. His one arm reaches around her waist while the other spreads wide at the back of her head, holding her mouth to his.

His feet move along as she shuffles them back toward the bed, but he stops them before they can tumble onto the sheets.

He pulls away, eyes steely blue and dark, and huffing breaths against her cheek. “It was never my intention to make you feel unappreciated.” His fingers move while he speaks, nimble fingers pulling down the zipper of her dress and letting it fall open and loose on her back.

She looks up at him, making certain he sees the genuine acceptance she offers, “I know.” She shrugs her shoulders, letting the straps fall and the fabric begin to fold down and around her, caught over his hands.

He slowly begins to lower himself down to the ground, onto his knees, hands gently skimming over her body, her dress following, before both rest at her hips, eyes never leaving hers. “I certainly never intended to make you feel unwanted.”

A trembling breath passes between her lips while she looks down at him. He stares back confidently yet penitent as he kneels in front of her, hands spreading over her as though eager to grab, but full of restraint and remaining tender.

“I fully intend to make it up to you,” his voice is soft and steady. His thumbs move to meet at the center of her stomach, just below her belly button. Then, with fingers spread wide, he slides them down, pulling the dress until it falls in a circle around her feet. He hums and looks her up and down appreciatively, “Many, many times over.”

Sometimes he can be vulnerable and affectionate, too.

She looks up and says a silent ‘thank you’ to no one in particular. Her hands rest at her sides, sometimes flinching when his touch almost tickles, but patiently waiting as he teases her. His lips skim along the skin above her underwear, and his hands roam across her lower back, ass, and the backs of her thighs. His breaths are warm and controlled, heating her skin as he moves close, but not exactly to where she is starting to grow wet. 

Her own breaths become shaky and uneven as she waits for what feels like an unfair amount of time, one hand clenched in a fist as she debates just shoving her fingers into her own underwear to get things moving along. With the other, she pushes through his hair. It’s longer than he’s kept it before, and she can feel where it’s twisting into curls at the ends. Her fingertips tickle along the back of his neck, just under his hairline, feeling the sweat already start to dampen his collar. 

She pulls her hand back to drag her nails through, drawing a low growl from him that she feels more than she hears. He tilts his head with the movement her hand as it strokes through his hair and he stares up at her again, pink splotches marking his cheekbones and giving away his excitement.

“You can really get started with that anytime now,” she tries to joke, but it’s edged with desperation.

“As you wish,” he says with a playful glint in his eye.

She gasps, “You -” but doesn’t finish because of course he takes that moment to start to press his thumb in circles of pressure over her, making her nerves tingle, setting off a rush of pleasure. “Ohh. More,” she whispers.

He cheekily replies again, “As you wish.”

Vulnerable, affectionate, playful.

There is no stopping her smile now, “You bastard,” she accuses, but the insult falls as flat as she does as he pushes her down to the bed. She lands with a surprised laugh which turns airy as he pulls her underwear down from her waist.

He starts to kiss at her calf, moving his way up her legs with his mouth and hands constantly wandering, massaging, tickling. “I am a bastard, but I still know the classics. I am certainly more like Westley than you give me credit for.”

“Tell me how perfect my breasts are then,” she mumbles.

He chuckles and stops at the tops of her thighs, muttering something that sounds like an affirmation before he uses just his fingertips to graze along her sensitive skin. He watches for a few seconds as he spreads her wetness back and forth. She feels the heat of his breath as he moves in, and gently presses his lips and the tip of his tongue against her. When he places his mouth on her, she immediately bucks up into him, greedy for pressure and movement. 

With a blink, he turns his look upward, leering at her. His lips spread slightly as he applies more pressure, allowing two of his fingers to tease at her entrance, all while he watches for her reactions.

She remains still, playing along with his little game for a moment, but when he slides away, just shy of where she wants his fingers, she loses all patience.

“What happened to making it up to me?” She pushes herself up to rest on her elbows.

He shifts himself onto the bed until he is face to face with her again, looking her over as though trying to memorize her. 

“Well, you are going to stay, aren’t you?” He stares into her eyes as he waits for her answer.

“Yes,” she tells him, unwavering.

“Well then,” he slides back down her body, stopping to kiss across her collarbone and down one breast, and then the other. The soft kisses tickle more than they linger, but lead in a direct path back between her legs, where he settles on his knees on the floor. “I’ve got time, haven’t I?”

Thorough. That’s another word for him.  

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Take Back The Future (part 3)

Summary: Vivi and Arthur travel back in time to the beginning of Hellbent. Neither of them are okay. 

(Part 1) (Part 2)

.

Mystery, instead of answering Vivi’s questions, leaps over the seat dividing the front and back areas of the van, exiting out the back doors.

“Wait, ” Vivi yells after Mystery, “get to back here and explain what happened to my memories.”

/It is not a tale that can be simply told. Not right now when we may be in danger/

Arthur thinks kitsune turned dog sounds slightly strained but it’s hard to really tell with Mystery’s weird telepathy. When the meaning of words are projected right into your brain some of the nuance is lost.

“Who is Shiromori? Why is she attacking us?” Vivi tries, following to glare at Mystery who circles the van, barely paying attention to the two of them. “Just answer one question!”

His mechanical arm twitches of its own accord and he eyes it nervously.  To hell with it. Arthur frees his hand and begins to feel about for the quick release lever hidden under a panel on his upper arm. After the van crash and almost getting thrown to his death, the arm had been too banged up to safely remove, jamming in place.  Best to be rid of it now, before everything when to shit all over again.

The sound of his heavy metal arm hitting the ashfelt draws Vivi’s attention and she turns to give him a quizzical expression.

“Better off then on,” He explains, “Wasn’t really working that well anyway. Hopefully, that’ll get rid of the curse as well.” Honestly, this cruse is the least of his worries.

Vivi exhales and Arthur can see the stress pinching her mouth, pulling it down into an uncharacteristic frown, “If the curse is specifically attached to your arm then removing it might work. On the other hand, if it’s anything like the one that got my memories then who the hell knows what will work. I certainly don’t. Apparently, I don’t know a lot of things.”

The last sentence is louder, directed at Mystery. There is no response from the dog who is staring off into the middle distance, head to one side like he is listening intently for something.  Arthur offers Vivj an uneasy shrug. He has his own questions for Mystery regarding Vivi’s memories, his arm, and the night they both went missing. However, his most recent run-in with dead-Lewis has him quickly reordering his priorities. None of the answers are going to mean much if he’s dead. Again…

Speaking of which… On the horizon, a purple light flares, glowing brightly against the dark backdrop. Arthur’s mouth goes suddenly dry and limbs feel very cold. Yeah, that seamed about right…

/You called this spirit Lewis?/ Mystery turns his head to examine him, expression troubled. /Are you sure?/  

He gives a short nod, eyes darting from Mystery then back to the road. It looks like Mystery is planning something based on how his fur is glowing red. He’d seen a similar red glow on the night of Lewis’s disappearance and during the confrontation outside his Uncle’s workshop. How much did Mystery know about Lewis? The question sticks in his mind, painfully heavy.

“Lewis? You mean the purple fire ghost? The one that caused the van crash?” Vivi steps up next to him, eyes locked onto the truck which grows quickly larger, “How are we going to stop it from running us all over?”

It’s too late to try a drive or run away now. Even if he decides to run there is a steep rocky slope on one side and a sharp climb on the other. If he did make it down by some miracle there was just flat desert and no cover for miles. Arthur doesn’t voice this observation instead commenting in a voice several octaves higher than normal, “I don’t think you need to worry about the ghost running you over. I’m pretty sure he’s only after me. So…ah…maybe don’t stand near me?”

Why? Why was Lewis trying to hurt him? In his mind’s eye, Lewis and Mystery meld together into a nightmare inferno of fire, teeth and death.

“I don’t want you to get run over either.” Vivi’s voice sounds faint, coming to him like it has travelled a great distance. Too much fear packed into too short a timeframe is making it harder and harder to concentrate. The ice at her feet thickens into long sheets, which creep out over the road, freezing it solid. He is probably lucky his remaining arm hasn’t frozen off with how tight Vivi had been holding it. Maybe if he turns into a giant Arthur icicle and he can sit this whole thing out. The hysterical thought momentarily breaks through his mounting panic.  

/Wait./

Arthur can almost hear the crackle of fire and the hum of the truck's engine.

/ You should not be drawing on so much of this power at once! You’ll damage the seal further!/

“I’m not letting Arthur die again. Anything comes near us and I’ll make whoever it is, regret it… that includes you.”

Vivi steps out so she is positioned in the centre of the road.

/I can handle this confrontation. There are still many aspects to the situation that you remain unaware of./

“And how am I supposed to fix that if you won’t tell me anything.”

/ I swear I will explain when there is more time. I only ever wanted to protect you./

“I don’t believe you.”

Vivi snaps the final sentence and punctuates it with a sharp hand gesture aimed at the oncoming truck. Several lines of ice stretch out and down the road, racing away from Vivi to meet the oncoming vehicle. Shining an ethereal blue, the frost coats the road’s surface, smoothing it over. Arthur catches the briefest glimpse of skeletal Lewis before the truck hits the ice sheets and the wheels suddenly lose traction.  The sound of metal crunching is deafening, accompanied by the hiss of water abruptly vaporising. Heat and cold collide in a cacophony cracking ice and explosion of steam.

A flash of bright purple fire. Mystery disappears, obscured by the thick columns of steam. He finds himself being yanked to the side by Vivi just in time to watch the purple truck careen past in a shower of sparks and groaning metal. At such high speeds, it rams straight into and through the guardrails separating the road from the rocky slope. Stunned, Arthur watches it disappear over the edge. If Lewis hadn’t already been dead then Arthur might have been worried. The sound of banging and crashing, as the truck presumably roles several times, has him physically wincing. Scratch that, he was worried. Very worried. Worried enough that it overtakes his mental panic and replaces it with deep concern. How durable were ghosts? He doesn’t know and that scares him. 

“Vivi! What the hell,” He finally manages to spit out, breaking his panic-induced stupor. He tries to rush past her, intent on checking for any signs of Lewis. He promptly slips. The combination of ice and his lack of a second arm throws off his balance and he ends up falling backward. He is saved from a collision with the ground by Vivi who seemed to now have supernatural levels of balance and was unaffected by the slippery surface.

“I …wow. That was… something.” Vivi breaths, examining the road still covered in planes of ice as if not quite believing it.

“Help me to the edge,” He interrupts, trying and failing to stand straight collapsing back on her, “I need to see if he’s okay,”

“Who’s okay? The ghost?"

“Yes.”

"You want to see if the ghost is okay? You said it was trying to hurt you?”

Arthur can practically see the concern and confusion now hanging over Vivi as she looks down from where she's holding him up by his one good arm.

“It’s just…a misunderstanding or something. I…we…might know this ghost.”

“What?”

“Just help me check.” He motions with his remaining arm. Visible through the plums of steam are thicker lines of darkened smoke coming from the space where the truck had disappeared.

....

Note: I’m Sorry to everyone who’s showed interest in this AU but i’m not sure if i’ll continue this since i’ve lost motivation.  Here are some of the more coherent plot notes if people are interested in this AU. Feel free to ask questions if u have any :) . 

...

-   Shiromori shows up directly after Lewis’s crash, distracting Mystery. With all the steam obscuring their vision Arthur and Vivi don’t realise that Shiromori has arrived immediately, and there is enough time to briefly look for Lewis. 

- Lewis makes it out of the truck crash only slightly worse for wear and tries to attack Arthur. Vivi moves to defend Arthur, then Arthur has to defend Lewis and it’s all very awkward for everyone. 

- Lewis sees how scared Arthur is a reconsiders his revenge plot, hesitating long enough to get some dialogue in. 

 - Arthur finally gives Vivi a brief Lewis overview (sans the whole ‘he almost threw me off a fake cliff thing’). Vivi is suspicious and somewhat unconvinced. Lewis is slightly confused when Vivi starts referring to the alternate time line. 

- Not time for further discussion because Mystery is fighting Shiromori and, since he had warning this time, he’s winning. 

(fight scene stuff. Vivi rushes in to do something idk this part is not planned.) 

Vivi overused ice abilities. 

Lewis and Arthur have a moment alone. 

Vivi, slightly untrusting of Mystery, ends up stepping to stop the two from fighting. (Vivi ends up saving  Shiromori maybe??? a parallel  to the original timeline). A dramatic moment where Vivi rushes in ( maybe takes a blow for Shiromori idk would depend on Shiromori’s backstory) and ends up injured. 

- ??? makes an appearance, takes over Vivi instead of Mystery. 

Some background world building stuff

- Vivi’s ice powers might become unsealed and she is vulnerable to ??? (spiritual energy is damaging to humans if too much is used at once or if is not used correctly)

- Yukino family are spiritual channels making them both more powerful and more vulnerable. Mystery holds a seal to the ability and it eats up a tails worth of power to maintain. Same deal with Shiromori, Mystery holds a seal to keep her fully realised abilities in check which also eats up a lot of power.

- The seal is damaged when Mystery is hurt

- Arthur is unaffected by the ice because he’s got some odd time based supernatural power which has bonded to vivi spiritual signtaure as well. This is the reason ??? want to possess Arthur. One possible resolution was for Arthur to figure out how to rewind time to the seconds before Vivi gets possessed, giving her a chance to defeat ???. It takes a lot of power which Lewis ends up giving to him. 

[cats-art-and-dinosaurs]

Hello @annwritesallday I was your secret cupid for @rdr-secret-cupid :)

I apologise for the delay, my health kinda let me down and thus, I lost a lot of time.

I'm also more used to drawing, but your requests leaned more towards writing soooo... a chance to try something new, I guess? :)

English also isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes!

Characters: Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan

Themes: Friendship, Emotional Comfort I guess?

Warnings: Hints at animal cruelty, emotional abuse and not so healthy drinking behavior

Summary: Arthur drinks a bit too much and tells Charles about his feelings (friendship)

-----------

The sun had set hours ago at Clemens Point and by now, the lake was full of stars. It was a warm night, and in Charles opinion much more pleasent than the suffocating humid heat that lay over them during the days in this area.

He let out a sigh of relief as he sat down near the shore of the lake at the edge of camp. Drunken laughter and cheerful voices swept over to him, but they were dulled by the calm water in front of him.

Hosea had pulled of some kind of small scam today and had returned to camp with a crate of beer and a big smile on his face. One thing led to another and soon the overall interest in work and chores around camp had significantly lessened and rather turned towards storytelling, joking and singing.

And so, not much work got done that day, and though Charles did take over some of the other's chores, there was still plenty to do. But that had to wait until tomorrow. It had been a long day and he was glad to finally have a quiet moment for himself.

He had considered joining Kieran at the scout fire, but the latter had also been doing more work around camp today than usual and not being the most outgoing person, he was probably grateful to have some time alone.

And so Charles had found himself this little spot at the shore, but after a few minutes, he heard footsteps approaching him.

The person stumbled a few times, clearly having had a bit too much whiskey, but Charles still recognized the man without having to turn around.

"Arthur."

"Hello Charles", Arthur greeted him and giggled as he struggled to keep his balance while trying to sit down next to him.

Arthur hadn't been around camp for the past few days and had just come back this afternoon, a frown on his face and a distant look in his eyes. Something had definetly been on his mind and Charles wondered if Arthur had tried to wash it away with the alcohol. He hoped he was wrong.

His thoughts were interupted by Arthur's slighty slurred voice.

"Really nice. The lake, it's... is really nice. It's... so much calm water. I like it. I feel..."

There was a shift in his voice and he paused.

Charles turned his head to look at Arthur, trying to figure out what was bothering him. But Arthur didn't even seem to know himself as he gestured with his hands, triyng to find the right words, which appearently was made more difficult by the alcohol in his veins.

"I... I just... feel awful."

It was a miserabel sight, really. Usually Arthur was well aware of the intimidating effect his size and appearance could have on others. He didn't even have to do much, just stand tall, maybe cross his arms and put on a mean face.

But the man who now sat next to Charles on the dirty ground was nothing like that. He was slumped over, suddenly appearing much smaller than he actually was, not even trying to hide the emotions displayed on his face.

"Why? Arthur, did something happen?"

"Well, yeah... I think, I... There was this man and his - his horse... he said it died and he asked me to give him a ride."

Arthur paused for a moment, letting out a defeated sigh, "I wanted to help him but it was a stupid... stupid trap an' he'd killed the horse himself to make it look real and... and I jus' wanted to help."

He stopped once again, but this time, a small sob escaped Arthur. And Charles was glad the other man had to pause, as he himself also needed a moment to let it sink in.

It seemed so small and insignificant compared to other acts of violence he had witnessed over the years, and maybe that was why it wasn't easy to understand. Killing a horse so you had the element of surprise while attempting to rob someone, not even knowing if they had any money at all? It didn't make sense.

Next to him, Arthur was failing to keep his tears in check, so Charles carefully put his hand on his shoulder.

Arthur's body tensed up for a moment and Charles felt a wave of disappointment rush through him, afraid that now Arthur would turn away and never open up to him ever again.

But after a few seconds, Arthur relaxed and continued to talk, "I thought I knew what I was doing. Jus' wanted to do something right, as in... do the right thing. And I don't know why it's so... so hard for me."

No matter how tough and dense Arthur sometimes acted, Charles knew there was more to him. He wasn't quite sure yet what exactly, but people were complicated after all. However, some seemed to be more complicated than others. And seeing Arthur so hurt and confused? Somehow, it confused Charles too.

Arthur sniffed and finally turned his gaze to the younger outlaw, "It's so easy for you and I just... don't even understand what's right and what's wrong. Always have to think about it. I think I'm jealous... because you just... you just do what's right without wondering what the right thing is. And I don't even know what's right. I don't even know why I don't know. No idea what I'm doing. I just - "

"Arthur, stop that."

"What?"

"Talking like that. It's nonsense."

While Arthur had been rambling on, Charles had recognized one of the emotions that was growing stronger within him right now. With every single word Arthur got out with shaky breaths, his anger grew. It wasn't directed at Arthur, but rather at the situation. And he had to do something about it.

Arthur didn't try to back away, his eyes were fixed on his face, probably stunned by his sudden change of tone.

With his hand still firmly on Arthur's shoulder, Charles continued, "I don't know where you're getting these ideas from, but it's not true."

"I..."

"Arthur, I know you've probably had one or two beer too many. But don't think I didn't notice that you're always putting yourself down, wether you're sober or not."

Arthur blinked a few times, looking almost offended, "I'm not drunk, just..."

"Just a little bit drunk, I know", a small smile escaped him at Arthur's blatant lie and his tone softened, "Can you just... listen to me for a moment?"

Arthur still looked somewhat unsure, but still gave him an hesitant nod.

"I don't always know what's right. And if there's someone who claims they always do, they're lying. And whoever put those ideas in your head is also a liar."

There was a flash of realization in the teary eyes of the older outlaw and he slowly turned his head away. Someone had obviously come to Arthur's mind.

Charles had a feeling who it was and maybe Arthur was even thinking of more than one person.

But whatever the case was, given Arthur's reaction, Charles had definetly hit a nerve.

Now that he had, Charles almost felt a bit guilty. Almost.

He pushed those feelings away and instead focused on Arthur again, gesturing towards the camp behind them with his free hand, "Look, all those people... The girls all had their share of... bad experiences, and they trust you. They're not naïve."

"I would never-"

"No, of course not, because you know it's wrong and given your reaction, you never even thought of it in the first place."

Arthur shook his head, a grossed out expression all over his face.

"I've seen the way you laugh together. They care about you", Charles paused at the disbelieving look Arthur gave him and rolled his eyes in response, "Don't look at me like that, they DO. You're like... this grumpy, big brother. If you don't belive me, I'll go and get them to come over so they can tell you yourself. You want me to do that?"

It was an attempt at humor, but it completly went over Arthur's head, "No, I don't want them to see me like... well..."

He tried to wipe the tears from his face, but his red eyes and nose were not easy to miss, even though the only source of light were the fires and lanterns from the nearby camp and the moon in the night sky above them.

Charles moved his hand from Arthur's shoulder to his back, carefully patting him as the other man continued to rub at his face, "It's okay Arthur. It's alright. Nothing wrong with having emotions."

He could have sworn to have heard a soft laugh from Arthur at that, and as he looked a bit closer, there actually seemed to be a genuine smile on his face.

"I mean it. There are people who go through life and don't seem to think about how what they're doing affects others at all. Like that guy who killed his horse. And even if they do, I doubt they care to much. But you obviously do care. That's a good thing."

"But?"

"But please... stop comparing yourself to me as if I'd know everything and never make mistakes. You have to think and decide for yourself."

"Hosea told me the same", there was a smile in Arthu's voice now and this time, it was mirrored by his face. Charles returned the smile, but raised his eyebrows in a manner of faked disbelief.

Arthur laughed at that and raised his finger in a scolding gesture, "Oh don't you look at me that. I'm afraid I'm not drunk enough to forget about this conversation once I'm sober again... I'm sorry, I... I guess the drink loosened the tongue... damn..."

"Well, I sure am glad it did. Someone had to... well, at least try to talk some sense into you."

But Arthur didn't respond to the teasing this time, and instead seemed to struggle to find the right words once again.

"I'm...", Arthur paused, then laid his hand on Charle's shoulder the same way the younger outlaw had done before, "Thank you. For... this, for beeing honest and... listening and... For beeing my friend."

Charles nodded, glad that he appearently had gotten through some of the self-doubt that occupied Arthur's mind.

"Charles, if... if there's ever something you'd like to talk about... I care about you, too. And if you need to talk, I'll be there too, okay?"

"I know."

[somestansomewhere]

Debbie Gallagher: ALL Love Interests RANKED

Okay! I tried to rank all of Debs’ love interests and it was hard to do because I am not set on that ONE PERSON that I ship her with above all else, but these are my thoughts! Keep in mind that these are all MY OPINIONS and you are entitled to yours as well! Let’s talk about it! If you read all this ILY.

Here we go:

...................................

23. The Guy At The Pool (Season 5)

He thought Debs was special needs and she tried to flirt with him...

22. Kelly (Season 9-10)

I LOVE Kelly so much but she was not into Debbie! I really love her with Carl and Debbie should not have tried to interfere! I will however say that I really really REALLY enjoy their friendship and I wish that that would have continued on. They had some really good moments together.

20/21. Eugene (Season 6) & Board Game Guy (Season 7)

Alright so these two don’t technically count because Frank tried to set Debbie up with Eugene so that she’d be written into his will. And the Board Game Guy was from a deleted scene as one of Debbie’s “life partners” from that flyer she made. So enough said.

18/19. Tyler (Season 6) & Erika (Season 6)

Again, Frank attempted to set Debbie up with Tyler and while that “potential relationship” wasn’t as bad as what happened between her and Erika, I am grouping them together because Debbie wasn’t technically into either of them and it was set up to fail right from the start.

17. Larry (Season 6)

The pregnancy fetish guy! I’m not quite sure what the intentions were for this character in the long run but it was a funny joke in the episode he was in. Even in the beginning Larry gave off red flags, but Debbie was happy... until the truth was revealed. Weird.

16. Jared (Season 11)

Another irrelevant love interest: the gay guy that cheated on his husband with Debbie after giving her cocaine. Obvious issues with this encounter/plot line aside, I did feel that their interactions at the bar were flirtatious and I didn’t hate him.

15. Calista (Season 11)

ANOTHER irrelevant character that was used and never brought back!!! I didn’t totally hate her either, she was upfront about her ex-girlfriend and that whole situation. She helped Debbie and didn’t take advantage of her but the second she came on screen; I’m sorry but I did not give a fuck. Her last episode built up a potential friend/relationship opportunity for Debbie and they just did nothing with it. Idfk what else to say, not a fan but I did appreciate Calista trying to take care of Debbie when she clearly was drinking too much.

14. Sandy (Season 10-11)

Oh boy, everyone’s favorite partner of Debbie’s... Yeah, Sandy is so low on this list not necessarily because I didn’t like her for Debbie, or that I have beef with Elise (b/c I love her as an actor sm). I personally just hate the sheer fact that this character EXISTS in the first place. I never understood the hype, but I know that people only like her because she’s a Milkovich ie. related to Mickey. That’s the hard truth this fandom isn’t willing to admit. My disliking Sandy should be a post of its own but lemme get into her relationship with Debbie.

You could tell that Emma and Elise liked working together so the chemistry was sorta there (definitely not soulmate shit tho). Each time that they interacted in s10 I was over it. S11 was better in the sense that whether I would like to admit it or not, they did have some “cute moments” (mainly just Sandy calling Debbie babe/babes). The second shit hit the fan in regards to Sandy’s history, I immediately understood Debbie’s issue with her and why her character would not want to be with Sandy. But, with that being said, Debbie was also in the wrong because she made everything about herself throughout the entire course of this relationship! Sandy did call her out, ex: “who was supposed to take Franny to school?”, and things like that were nice. HOWEVER I am sorry to say, this relationship felt like a massive waste of time and it felt like they were trying to force something that shouldn’t have existed to begin with. I don’t have the patience to even analyze this anymore, but maybe down the line because clearly there is SO MUCH to delve into!

13. Alex (Season 9)

Omg I did not like this relationship/plotline at all. Alex had issues but Debbie was so inconsiderate! I never saw the appeal here! It was nice that Alex had the decency to go and help Debs with Ford after the fact. I just feel “meh” about this tho. They had moments but ultimately I personally wasn’t into it and Debbie’s random newfound self discovery of “lesbianism”.

12. Kyle (Season 3)

Emma Kenney’s first kiss! Kyle was a one episode character that did have the potential to be more than that. I didn’t hate the kid as Debbie’s love interest, but there also wasn’t anything special about him. He was just kinda there and then he left. Debbie really seemed to like him though, spelling his name in her peas, etc.. I do like that one line about cigarettes that Kyle had but again he was such a short lived character and when he turned out not to be related to Kevin it became unnecessary to keep him around... even if the episode alluded to him returning. They were sorta cute!

11. Claudia (Season 10)

So I didn’t like this relationship much either but there was a certain kind of stability in the relationship that felt organic and nice. Partly because I enjoyed watching Constance Zimmer and she made Claudia likeable. Do I ship it? No. Was it a problematic dynamic? Yes. Was it a tolerable relationship? Eh. I didn’t hate it entirely though. Debbie, being a Gallagher, eventually fucked it up. And while I did like the drama, Debbie wasn’t REALLY into Claudia as much as she may have believed she was. So, it totally felt like a one off that would end with Claudia not returning... and it was. So there was no time for an investment of any kind.

10. Hedi (Season 11)

Gosh... Debbie’s endgame(?). Hedi was introduced too late for me to care enough about her (At this point it would have made sense for Debbie to wind up with Calista because at least she was already introduced!). I don’t necessarily like Hedi as a character and quite frankly it was a “who tf does SHE think she is” kinda deal for me. At first I was interested and didn’t hate her (and I don’t), but then she “thought she was Jimmy” and I instantly got annoyed (LOL I GUESS it was a nice nod to him tho... I guess).

My (several) problems with Hedi as a character aside, there IS something about Hedi being presented as this “dangerous badass” who is (somehow) WORSE than Debbie, that worked well. I’m not a fan of the ship, but it is an interesting dynamic in the sense that Debbie could potentially be “living on the edge”. I fear for what trouble this could cause Debbie BUT it’s like Frank referenced: Monica vibes. I don’t think it’s “true love” like Debbie said to Franny. A constant storyline for Debbie has been “why can’t anyone ever love me” and so she falls in quickly. Maybe Hedi will leave her but that’s the thing, “she’s done worse” so idk, either way I don’t think it’s meant to last! But I guess I don’t mind them being together! Karma’s a bitch! Will Carl tell her what Arthur found? Would it even make a difference?

9. Julia (Season 10)

I would have actually rather preferred her with Carl too! It was never love between Debbie and Julia, but the relationship did create good conflict for my viewing pleasure. UNPOPULAR OPINION, I didn’t mind Julia as a character at all. She was fine for me. I also enjoyed how ultimately SHE was only using Debbie in the end. Julia does admit later on that she was experiencing with her sexuality so maybe she did have feelings for Debbie at one point, which I thought was interesting. Debbie got herself into this one. At least Julia was more age appropriate than Claudia... (which is ironic since Debbie got in trouble for being with Julia when the age gap is MUCH bigger between Claudia and Debbie LOL I love it)! I also found Julia annoying Debbie to be amusing, that’s not to say that I liked her a lot either cuz I don’t!

8. Matty (Season 4-5)

Man do I feel bad for Matty! Debbie raped him and it was horrible. From the get-go when Matty was introduced the relationship was hella awkward!! And not only that but Debbie was a MINOR! Matty did do the right thing and said they couldn’t be together but a part of me will always feel strange that he WAS INITIALLY attracted to Debbie before learning her age. That to me is still wildly inappropriate. He shoulda cut it off. He did try to be her friend and took her to that dance which was cute but ahhh this was just a MESS all around. Cringe. At least he didn’t take advantage.

7. Henry (Season 4)

Speaking of Matty and that dance, Henry was supposed to take her. He asked her as a joke in order for Seama to inflict revenge on Debbie. If that weren’t the case however... DAMN THEY WERE CUTE! The potential that this relationship could have had! If only it wasn’t all an act! It was a “day worth of love” and sure that’s not enough for two people to REALLY be IT, yet there was something charming about their connection that I wish was real. Or idk maybe Henry could have reconnected with her later and apologized and it could have been revealed that he did actually like her... but that wasn’t the case. Fuck him!

6. Simon (Season 1-2)

Debbie was NOT interested in Simon at all but at the time he was almost like the male version of her. Their banter back and forth was fun to watch and he probably would have treated her well. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t get to even see their friendship progress. Their interactions were funny and he was a good guy!

5. Batiste (Season 10)

Y’all may not understand why this guy is so high on the list but a part of me wishes this character wasn’t a one off. Batiste is the dude Debbie tried to return her “unused” shoes to. If you can recall, he wanted a blowjob to take advantage of her. While this was a dick move (and the plot went nowhere) a part of me would have liked to see more! He did have an arc where he acted like an ass and realized that it is wrong to degrade women. I just think it could have been built upon and Emma may have had chemistry with this actor. There was something here that I didn’t hate and I felt it could have been expanded upon.

4. Little Hank (Season 2-3)

Debbie’s first real crush! It was interesting to see how he didn’t like her at first and then a “friendship/relationship” slowly started to develop after he gave her flowers. IT JUST NEVER CONTINUED! Little Hank was in no way the most upstanding, but it was cool to see Carl have a friend that Debbie crushed on (when she was little she wasn’t intentionally taking something away from Carl ie. Kelly, so I support it). Their interactions were fun to watch too! The fandom definitely has a soft spot for Little Hank! And at one point everyone was rooting for them to be together. Too bad we never discovered what ended up happening to this character!

3. Neil (Season 7-8)

The bathtub scene tho! Adorable! There was a short moment within this relationship that was super cute where the two of them really did seem to care about each other and may have both been in love. It goes without saying that Debbie was only using him, but they did have SOME potential and they found a common ground where they each benefited each other’s needs. Debbie once again was TOO controlling and self absorbed to make it work, but I don’t think she was entirely happy in a relationship with him. He deserved more respect!

2. Derek (Season 5-8)

Baby Daddy! I really did enjoy them together until Debbie took advance of him and Franny came into the picture, but at the same time that’s one of the reasons that Derek, as a character, has a deeper connection to Debbie and the audience. I always enjoyed their flirting back and forth and the relationship they had (the deleted scene with the card/push up game ahh my heart)! Debbie really did mess up due to her desperation to “belong to a family”, which is another one of her consistent character traits. She just went too far and tried to trap him. Then shit got messed up between their families. Derek did eventually ask for parcial custody and did have a desire to be a part of Franny’s life. Debbie said no and that plot line died until s10. Pepa!! Ahh! RIP to Derek, it was sad to me that he died. Definitely a character and relationship that I wish was incorporated more because I truly enjoyed them together.

1. Duran (Season 8)

Besties with benefits! Stop! Nobody talks about my guy Duran! Sure they both said that this relationship was of a sexual nature and that they were just a couple of friends but damn! The chemistry and dynamic was palpable! It is truly a shame that we didn’t get to see more of this friendship! They were on common ground and really did care about each other! I don’t know why but I really just LOVED them together! Duran was also in her friend group with Farhad and that was a group that seemed to have a positive impact on Debbie as a person. S8 Debbie was cool! These two complemented each other so nicely! Duran wasn’t by any means the best influence on her because he almost lead Debbie down a “Monica path” but come on, Hedi is worse in that department. He was getting his life together like Debbie was with her profession. Just think of the hair convos Duran and Tami could have had Lol. Idk, I just like Debbie with him a lot! It was healthy to an extent and he was supportive of Debs with Franny.