#i genuinely was worried when i posted the fic cause i was messing around with a concept that i wasn’t sure how well i could pull off

[lemonzestywrites]

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[twstbookclub]

Faded Away

SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 INCLUDED; THIS IS AN AU. THIS IS SIDE A OF A TWO PART STORY. HERE IS SIDE B.

This is side A.

Inspired by Fade Away by Riley Baron Summary: Childhood friends with Malleus, you were even supposed to marry him. You'd call him your fiancé, but he'd shoot you down with a smile. One day, Maleficia would announce that you would no longer be engaged to Malleus, but you had already decided to renounce that before, so it was okay. For Malleus, after experiencing loss in his life, everything he adored before began to fade away. Pronouns: Gender Neutral POV: 2nd Admin/Writer: Kai⚔️ Tags: Malleus Draconia, Changed fate, Childhood friends to lovers, lovers to strangers, angst with a sad ending, hurt no comfort Word count: 3,961

A/N: … sigh. If someone had told me a year ago that I would write nearly 4,000 words for Malleus Draconia angst, I would've laughed in their face. Despite that, I wrote this for two days and edited it for another two. I fixated on this man for FOUR DAYS nonstop, listening to playlists about falling in love with your comfort character but then saying goodbye, and I am still not done. I am genuinely proud of this work. Out of the 7 years I have been writing fanfiction, I have never been so happy to say this is one of my best works. And I don't really like Malleus like that. Attack me all y'all want, I know book 7 spoilers, and I was his stan(not simp) until I found out the truth and had to take a step BACK. I don't know what I feel about him now, but as a Silver girlie, I need someone to take the pen away from Yana Toboso.

Regardless of my feelings, I am glad I could write this and that the story turned out amazing. As I said, I'm not done, and I have another fic posting as soon as this one drops, so don't stray too far.

On that note, thank you for waiting and reading this long, longer than I would like to admit story. Enjoy.

The horns of this child were small, but the eyes of another child were fascinated at the sight of such a mature boy. The boy’s name was Malleus Draconia, the future King of Briar Valley. You were told that you would become his fiance when you grew up. You could feel your heart instantly pound and become fond of this young royal. You had already known him prior, growing up around the same time, and your families were somewhat close. Still, you couldn’t have imagined being able to marry him later down the line. He was aloof and neutral as a child, speaking to you when you would talk to him and only if he had a response. You loved him that way, anyway. 

“You’re my… fiance?” 

“I am! Don’t worry; I won’t go anywhere if it’s not with you!”

“Hmm… Then I can accept that.”

Growing up as teenagers was slightly different. It took some years, but he would begin to warm up to you. He would smile occasionally and accept the way you would call him “my fiance”, but still turn you down for the time being. Witnessing him become stressed caused a pang of guilt in your heart. Still, you’d quickly dissipate the feeling by messing around and seeing him feel better with your company.

“My fiance should be calm the way he usually is. How can his kingdom stay calm if he is not?”

Malleus would usually stare at you after you said things like that, then respond with, “You’re right… Alright. I will do that, but I’m not your fiance.”

Then, like clockwork, you’d laugh at him before responding, “Okay, okay, Prince Malleus. Whatever you say.”

Now, Malleus finally returned from studying at Night Raven College and settled back into his past routine. It took some months, since now there were new things he needed to learn before he could become king. He would follow without a complaint, though.

He was standing in a throne room, checking on documents and plans for the kingdom. You would simply trot in with your hands behind your back as you would often do, admiring him as your shoes would click against the floor.

“My fiance is working so hard already?” You teased, being playful and wanting to catch his attention.

“I’m not your fiance.” Malleus would say with a concentrated tone, his gruff voice echoing through the large room as the sound of documents being flipped echoed. 

“Right. King Malleus.” You stopped walking to give him a bow and then approached his side. You moved your hand to cling to his arm, but knowing your behavior, he already had an arm out for you.

“Not king either. I haven’t had my coronation yet. Queen Malecifia is planning that as we speak,” Malleus spoke again, then set down the documents and turned to you, his hair slightly swaying with his movement. His green eyes stared down at you, and then he captured a slight smile on his lips. “What is it that you need from me?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see you and waste your time. I truly hope I am a bother,” you spoke playfully and took one of the loose documents into your hands to read through it. Malleus quickly took the paper before you could get too far into reading it. Right. Kingdom affairs.

Malleus gives you a look before sighing and pulling a chair out. “If I let you touch my horns, could you let me work?” He spoke, moving to sit down beside where you were standing. You grew excited at the opportunity to play with his horns and instantly went quiet to do so. You stood behind him and carefully adjusted his hair while examining every detail of the feature in front of you.

The atmosphere was quiet yet peaceful. Time felt like it was still, pen scratching paper occasionally sounds through the large room. Your hands gently held his horns, caressing them to remind yourself of its sharp and enticing structure.

Memories of childhood played through your mind as you watched him read these documents, soft breaths coming from him as his focus never broke. You did this exact thing all the time with him, especially during his study hours.

“Why do you like my horns so much?” Malleus spoke, suddenly breaking the silence and surprising you out of your trance. You thought about it momentarily, trying to find the right words to explain it, but you couldn't find a single word for how. Instead, you explained it the best you could. 

“Hmm… I don’t know. There’s something about seeing these horns that gives me some reassurance. Relief that I can still be your future beloved.” you answered before fixing his hair again. Messing with him like this felt right. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, being his future partner was something of fate. There were others out there with royal status just like you. Queen Maleficia could’ve replaced or sent you away, but she hadn’t. You were thankful every time you saw his grandmother.

“I see… You’re an odd one,” Malleus spoke softly, a faint breath being heard from him as he felt your hands let go of him. “You let go. Is something the matter?”

Malleus noticed you stayed quiet but didn’t hear you move either. So, he turned around, his breath catching at what he saw. His eyes were met with your side profile, your lips curling into a grin. Your eyes reflected the light like glass, and your hands fell to his shoulders.

“It’s the first snow of the season,” you said, mesmerized by the view. Your quiet voice showed just how enchanted you were. Malleus had an idea of how others felt about the first snow. All he took in from when you explained the moment to him was how special it could be for lovers.

Every time the first snow would fall, he’d watch from the window of his study how you admired the snowflakes as if you’d never seen them before. He watched you do this for years as if it was routine. Hell, it would be weird if he didn’t see you out there. 

Malleus took your wrist and made his way out towards the courtyard. He’s the one taking you out there this time? You could only follow and keep your excitement at bay from his behavior.

Arriving outside, Malleus fixed your winter cape, ensuring you wouldn’t feel too cold. He leaned against a wall as you played and tried to catch the snowflakes. Your smile was as bright as the white sky, and he would just stand there, watching you without a word, but more as if he was in thought. 

You noticed this and took a moment to gather some snow from the ground, putting it behind your back before moving towards him. “Are you alright? You seem to be lost in thought,” you asked, making him snap out of his trance to look at you. 

“I’m fine. I’m simply reminded of my time at the college from seeing all this snow. Why do you a—” 

Crunch.

He sighed, keeping his eyes closed before saying one thing. “... Why?’

Malleus was cut off by the impact of a snowball hitting his face. The icy crystals caused his skin to feel colder than it already was. He wiped the snow off his face as he witnessed you begin to back away. Every step back from you was a step forward for him, and you noticed how he had a straight-faced expression. You laughed nervously and grabbed his wrists, trying to hold him back.

“I just wanted to get your attention, Malleus!” You tried to explain, yelping when he would tower over you, but you would only find it all amusing. Malleus would chuckle, grabbing and throwing snow at you, not aiming for your face like you had done to him. 

This went on for a few minutes, enjoying the back-and-forth attacks, while the snow piled onto the ground through the mid-winter day. At one point, Malleus would grab you by the waist to keep you from straying too far away from him. The gesture felt nice, but also intimate as he’d only do this to stop you from being clumsy.

You held onto his arms and stepped back slowly, moving towards a stone pillar, while your eyes didn’t leave him. You glanced between his eyes, lips, and the horns you loved seeing. Even after he held you against the cold stone, there wasn’t anything to worry about, but him.

You felt nervous while giving his arms a light squeeze, and he carefully brushed his cold fingertips against your cheek, making you relax with your head leaning into his slight touch. Soon, his hand cupped your cheek to tilt your head, keeping you in place this time.

Finally, your eyes stayed on his lips. His green eyes admired your features to remember them down to the last detail. Your mingled breaths hit each other’s faces from the close proximity, then Malleus leaned close, his lips inching closer to yours.

It was cut short, though. You turned to the sound of someone clearing their throat, but your body would stop what it was doing and let go of Malleus, instantly bowing at the sight of a familiar lady.

Malleus would turn around next. His breathing was slightly uneven from getting caught in the act, but he’d still bow and greet the woman in the courtyard with them.

“Queen Maleficia, what brings you out here during this weather?” Malleus began first, slowly coming up with you to stand correctly.

“It is good to see you, Queen Maleficia.” You followed after, giving Malleus’s grandmother a warm smile.

“Not much, my dear. I’m glad to see you taking a break,” Maleficia returned the greeting and gave a smile as well. She’d soon drop that expression, though. “I need to speak to you about something important.”

Your body would tense up again, and you took that as a cue to leave them alone, so you bowed and took a step forward. “I’ll leave you be, then—”

“You aren’t going anywhere. You are part of this too.” Maleficia spoke earnestly, and she rarely had to speak in such a way to you. The last time you heard those words was when she scolded you and Malleus for disappearing to Lilia’s home.

Those words always made you nervous, especially since they usually meant something was wrong. You could only turn around and smile again.

“Right. I apologize for my assumption, Your Majesty,” you said carefully, instantly seeing Malleus turn to you with a look of curiosity.

Standing before Queen Maleficia, now in her study, you held your hands as Malleus stood near the high bookshelves. His grandmother stared out of her window briefly before taking a breath.

“Malleus.” Queen Maleficia began to speak, turning around to face you and Malleus somberly. “Your coronation is being planned, as you know, but something must be done before you can become king. You know what that is, correct?”

Malleus grew confused, but his eyes would widen slightly once he understood. “Marriage. What of it?”

As soon as Malleus answered, the woman would look towards you and smile lightly. “That’s correct. What do you plan to do about that?”

You stare at Malleus briefly before looking at Maleficia again, then smile softly. “I do want to marry the prince. That has not changed since we were children.”

Maleficia looked away from you, and then she made her way to stand in front of you. “That, my child, is what I can no longer allow. I am sorry.” 

Your eyes widened, and you saw Malleus perk up at the corner of your eye. He was shocked as well. “What…?” Is that the only thing you could say?

“What are you talking about?” Malleus sounded off. You couldn’t look at him. Your eyes would stay on the Queen before you, still in disbelief. 

“This is the best course of action. Forgive me, my child.”

“Queen M—No. Grandmother, what in the world are you referring to? Answer me!” Malleus began to demand, moving you back and getting ahead of Maleficia.

“Malleus, believe me, this was not easy.”

“I did not ask if it was easy. I did not ask if you’ve thought of this for weeks or months. I asked for an explanation, grandmother,” Malleus spoke sternly, going against Maleficia, which he had not done before. Maleficia was growing angry, but she remained calm regardless.

“I am doing this for you, for the kingdom of Briar Valley; to end a war before it could begin. You will do your duty as the future ruler of this kingdom.”

“You think the kingdom can decide who will be my partner in marriage for the rest of my life? You did that when I was a child! I went along with it and accepted it the first time as it was!” Malleus also grew angry at the way the events were unfolding. He had accepted everything without complaint, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut this time. This isn’t what he wanted.

“Now, Queen Maleficia, you wish to choose someone new? Someone I haven’t known my entire life and someone I cannot trust?”

“You will understand that as the future king. You do not need them as your fiance, and that is final. You will be marrying someone from another kingdom to stop us from going to war.” Maleficia had grown strict, firm even. Anyone else wouldn’t dare argue, not even you. You could only stay quiet from the words you were hearing. Your heart began to feel heavy from guilt as if it were a burden.

“What good will that do!? I do not need someone to help me run my life or the kingdom that will be under my wing some time from now!”

“I did it for you! I do not wish to see you become like your parents! You are my only grandson, and I lost your mother to war and the son, your father, I never had just before that. I raised you! Lilia and I were the ones who kept you alive. So, as your grandmother, I want you to keep yourself safe. Do this for yourself.” Maleficia was like a pleading mother. She needed Malleus to understand.

It was all so confusing to you. Malleus was trying to fight, but was it for you or him? Was it for his freedom? Did he love you? No. That couldn’t be it. You had to do something before he would do something drastic. You had to stop him before he could argue more.

Silence. 

Your hand wrapped around his own. Malleus froze from the sudden touch. “It’s okay,” you began softly, putting on a smile before looking up at Malleus.

The touch reminded you of when you snuck into his study as a teenager. You felt stressed once due to your studies and responsibilities becoming a large pile, and Malleus would hold your hand to put you at ease. He helped you with your studies by tutoring and keeping you focused, but concentrating was still difficult with your distant lover just inches away from you during that time. 

That short-lived memory was enough to make you agree to this. You loved him, but it was confusing. He was distant, but sometimes not. You loved him, but it was time. 

“Hey, Malleus?”

“Hmm?”

“What would it be like if I was only your friend, but never your fiance?”

A young Malleus had to think about that, but only one answer came to his mind.

“I would’ve figured out how to become your fiance again.”

Back to the decision before you, you smiled more before looking at Maleficia and squeezing Malleus’ hand lightly.

“I understand, Queen Maleficia. I apologize for no longer meeting your expectations,” you said respectfully. Malleus stared down at you with wide eyes, his hand starting to squeeze yours while it was still in his grasp.

“Don’t say that. You don’t need to do that—”

You shook your head and looked at him, clenching your free hand around his arm to cling to him. “I… wanted to talk to you, anyway. I’d call you my fiance, but you always turned me down. You said you simply accepted the necessity of my obligation as your lover. Now that we have to say our goodbyes, it worked out fine, did it not? I won’t fuss about this decision, as I have no say in the kingdom’s political matters. So, I will simply wish you happiness and good fortune in your marriage, Prince Malleus.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t know a thing.” Malleus whispered and took both of your hands into his, trying to keep himself calm in the midst of all of the mess. “I only rejected you because I wanted to properly propose to you. Only at the right moment between us and—”

“Hey… you don’t have to say any of that. You don’t need to. This is your kingdom. I am simply someone who had to be your lover.” Those words hurt for you to say, and Malleus looked… scared for once. In the time that you’d ever known him, he was the only person you loved. Malleus couldn’t let go of your hand or look away from you. You would disappear, he felt. Hearing those words come out of your mouth was painful enough as is.

You could only give him a bitter smile and force him to let go. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” you whisper and bow to Maleficia, then to Malleus. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me.”

You smile once more before swiftly leaving before anything else could happen. The longer you walked, the more your legs felt like jelly. You didn’t know where you were going, but you just wanted to leave. You wanted nothing more but to go back and take back your words. To fight for Malleus. Yet, you would never go against the crown. 

Malleus simply stood there in disbelief with his eyes glued to the door. Maleficia reached out to her grandson, but as soon as her hand landed on his shoulder, he slapped it off. He looked at his grandmother with a look of nothing. Agony. A heart-wrenching anguish clouded his mind and judgment once you had left the room. 

He didn’t want the touch of anyone else but you. How could he lose you so easily? His whole life, he had always gotten what he wanted. Yet, the one time he asked, begged, and pleaded for something in his life, it was stripped away right before his fingertips. Malleus’ body was on auto-pilot from the harsh reality. Then, he moved out of the study, but when he looked up, his body froze at the sight of you running out of the castle.

It was all his fault. He didn’t fight hard enough. Now, he had lost you. How could the Seven betray him so? He never thought that it would be so easy to leave him. To abandon the memories just because someone else requested it.

Once you felt the harsh wind and snow, your eyes began to water. Soon, your heavy breaths turned into heaving sobs. Before you knew it, you found yourself in the forest. How did you even get here? How far did your tired legs get you? What torture could you endure in this state? Then…

Every memory with Malleus started to flash through your head.

Every dance.

Every laugh.

Every touch.

Every look.

Everything. 

Your heaving sobs became screams of heartbreak. Agonized cries echoed throughout the quiet and dark forest of Briar Valley. You couldn’t feel the cold anymore. The cold didn’t matter when it felt like you left a piece of yourself in the castle. 

Malleus leaned against the wall from the window that he watched you disappear from, closing his eyes when he could hear your cries despite how far you actually were. He couldn’t do anything to fix it this time, not when you were convinced.

Meeting his new fiance was unbearable for Malleus, but he tolerated it. He never remembered any interaction he had with the woman he was supposed to marry now. The wedding was memorable for everyone but him, and you weren’t there. He knew you wouldn’t be there, but he would still smile to himself when he remembered things.

But then it wasn’t too long, maybe a couple of years, until the kingdom celebrated Malleus and his coronation. Everyone with royal status and Malleus' close friends were invited to the after-party celebration. You went alone and stood on the balcony outside, listening to everyone enjoy their festivities. You hadn’t heard about Malleus since you last stepped foot here. It felt like forever ago.

“I didn’t think you would show up. Not after what happened the last time.”

The familiar voice made you perk up and turn around, seeing his tall figure standing at the curtain’s frame. You stood at the stone barricade and smiled slightly at Malleus, bowing to him.

“I didn’t think you would seek my company, King Malleus.”

“That title sounds… weird coming from you,” he admitted, making you both laugh. You look at the horizon to watch the setting sun, going quiet along with him. You had to break the silence.

“So, how are you and your queen?” You asked, causing Malleus to look at you. 

“She is fine. She’s expecting, so she’s taking care of herself instead,” Malleus said, being careful with his words, but you wanted to hide behind your old, playful attitude.

“You were quite fast, weren’t you?” You responded with a laugh, but you could feel your heart breaking already.

“It’s been about two years since we last conversed. I don’t think that’s too fast,” Malleus spoke casually, but you would notice how he looked at you somberly, almost as if he didn’t like it as much as you did.

“I see. I wish the Queen and your child a safe and easy journey.” You said quietly, sounding a bit melancholic. You had to force those words out, and Malleus simply nodded to accept your wishes.

His look made you narrow your eyes towards the ground, not wanting to look at him as you knew it would only cause you more heartbreak.

“Malleus…” You called out quietly, sighing and leaning against the stone.

“Don’t say anything,” he whispered, looking out into the horizon just like you did moments ago.

After a few minutes of silence, the sun had finally set, turning the sky dark with the moon’s light shining down on you and Malleus.

“Thank you,” you broke the silence first amidst the faint clamor of festivities behind you, “for the chance to be with you for so long.”

Malleus looked at you,  then you looked at him in return. These looks turned into stares. Stares felt like time froze. It was you and him again, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You engraved the details of his face into your head, and he was doing the same for you. When he broke the silence, the bubble around you two still hadn’t popped. 

“You were a wonderful experience,” he said sincerely, giving you a smile.

You smiled back, but before you could respond, others called Malleus over. He tried to stay there, but he was forced away. He was only able to take one more look at you before he disappeared. He faded away like a light swallowed by a deep darkness, which was so strange. It was only a change. 

You still kept your smile after he left. Now, you could say what you wanted.

“You were… everything.”

[alixlives]

like old times

lee!blitzø, ler!fizzarolli :)

i love them so much i am so glad theyre friends again actually. theyre besties and i love them. this was not proof read so if theres mistakes then OOPS !! (haha u get the reference ? get it ?? cause. cause oops is a helluva boss episode. and its the one where fizz and blitzø made up. haha. yeah)

this fic is intended to be viewed as platonic.

N$FW BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST OR MY BLOG!

Blitzø would never admit it aloud, but he couldn’t be happier that him and Fizzarolli are friends again. It felt like a piece of him had gone missing, then found it’s way back to him.

Blitzø decided to have him and the I.M.P team take a day off, allowing them to do as they please for entertainment that day. And for Blitzø, that meant inviting Fizzarolli over.

The jester admittedly was confused, but honestly, so was Blitzø. How was he even supposed to word that message? “Hey, wanna hangout?” It sounded odd to him, at least since it had been, what, 15 years?

Or maybe he was just really, really socially awkward.

He settled for calling Fizz and, very awkwardly, inviting him over with strings of words that just barely made sense; Something Fizz fully intended on teasing Blitzø for later.

.

.

.

Fizz barged into the door of the I.M.P headquarters, making a strong entrance as always. Blitzø nearly flipped out of his chair.

“You invited me to where you work, really?” Fizz looked around as if unimpressed. “Do you ever leave this place?”

Blitzø blinked. He does, but he lives in a raggedy old apartment, shared with Loona. He invited Fizz over to the I.M.P Headquarters both because he was embarrassed about the apartment, and he didn’t want to disturb Loona.

“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I just wanted to catch up since it’s been, what, fifteen years now? And the last time we did get to talk about life, we were dealing with a bunch of psycho’s trying to kill us..”

“Oh, so you can explain your reasoning here, but not on the phone, huh?” Fizz smirked, earning an eye-roll from Blitzø.

“Hey, if you came to be a dick, the door’s right behind you,” Blitzø crossed his arms. Fizz only walked further into the room, adjusting the sleeves of his light-pink top as he did so.

The jester moved to circle Blitzø for a moment, “Nope. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me today, Blitzo.”

“The ‘o’ is silent, clown! Do I have to drill a paper with it in writing through your ears in order to get it through your head?” He flicked Fizz's forehead, though the action and his tone showed that he wasn't actually upset. Usually, he would be, but things were different nowadays; He couldn’t find himself to be genuinely upset with the jester.

Fizz laughed. "Nah, I just like messing with you." He bent forward a little to be on Blitzø’s level, only teasing him further. Blitzø poked Fizz in the chest.

"Thin ice, buddy. Thin. Ice." He glared, making direct eye contact with the jester. Fizz only smiled.

"Guess I'll have to tread carefully, huh?" He gently pried Blitzø’s finger away from him.

Blitzø crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe a harmless little joke to get back at Fizz, but what?

Scare him.

Blitzø and Fizz spent about fifteen minutes discussing life, AKA Blitzø was prying into Fizz’s personal life about him and Asmodeus. Then Blitzø spoke.

“I need to grab something from the company van outside, give me a few minutes.” Then he got up and left. Fizz raised an eyebrow as he watched the shorter imp leave.

It was only partially a lie, given what he ‘needed’ wasn’t actually important. However, it was necessary for his little scheme to get back at Fizz.

Once the door to his office was closed, Blitzø ran out of the building to his company’s van. When he got to the vehicle, he started to dig through the mess of trash on the floors and seats. He mumbled something about needing to clean it, or get Moxxie to do it.

Then he grabbed it.

An airhorn.

Fizz had mentioned using an airhorn to startle Asmodeus awake, why not use the same to scare the jester? A taste of his own medicine.. sort of.

Once Blitzø had the airhorn, he ran back into the building. He looked through the window to see inside his office, Fizz wasn’t facing the door. Perfect. He made sure to shake the airhorn before entering.

He opened the door slowly and carefully, making sure to shut it the same way. You couldn’t even hear the click. He tip-toed over to Fizz, then blared the airhorn right behind hip.

Fizz fell out of his seat, and Blitzø fell right next to him, except it was because he was laughing so hard. The jester had fallen out of surprise.

“What the fuck!?” Fizz couldn’t help but crack a smile; He couldn’t be mad, he did the same to Ozzie almost every day. He mumbled, “oh, you son of a bitch..”

Blitzø was too caught up in his own laughter to notice how Fizz had stanced himself.

And then he pounced.

The squeal that came from Blitzø was one Fizz would never, ever forget.

“You think that’s funny, do you? Huh? Fine then, I’ll give you something to laugh about!” The jester exclaimed as he immediately dug his fingers into Blitzø’s sides. The imp immediately started to kick and thrash, loud laughter emitting from him against his own will.

“FIHIHIZZ! Fuck, not THIHIS!” Blitzø grabbed onto Fizz’s robotic hands, but it didn’t do much to stop the jester as he just continued to scribble his fingers along Blitzø’s torso, the killer laughing helplessly beneath him.

“Ah, just like old times, right Blitzø? You’re still so insanely ticklish!” Fizz chimed, switching to vibrate his fingers along Blitzø’s ribs. “This will never get old. Ever.”

Memories of Blitzø’s childhood with Fizz flooded his mind; They almost always had tickle fights in the free time they had growing up. They both loved it, and they were honestly pretty open about liking it to each other.

Only to each other.

“Y’know, I remember you always seemed to love it whenever I’d go riiiiight here..” Fizz trailed his fingers down to Blitzø’s stomach, eliciting high pitched giggles from the shorter imp.

“Fihihihizz!” Blitzø whined, and Fizz couldn’t help but tease further.

“N’aww, still your soft spot, huh? Tickletickletickle!” He briskly scritched and clawed at the skin, simultaneously keeping the touches gentle just to worsen the sensations for Blitzø.

It was then Fizz noticed a soft sound, something hitting the floor. He glanced to the side to see Blitzø’s tail wagging, and he had to pause for a moment to compose himself.

“Aww, Blitzø! You’re tail still wags when I do this!? Fuck, you’re making me regret hating you for fifteen years,” Fizz joked. He moved his hands down a little and drilled his thumbs into the space right above Blitzø’s hip bones, relishing in the shriek that came from the shorter imp.

“FIHIHIZZ!” Blitzø’s hands latched onto Fizz’s wrists, and he started to thrash under the jester.

“Still a bad spot, huh? Guess you’re not so different compared to when we were kids!” Fizz grinned.

Soon, Fizz stopped tormenting Blitzø and sat beside him as he composed himself. It was pretty adorable.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” Blitzø huffed, glaring at Fizz with faux annoyance.

“You know you love it~” Fizz teased, delivering a few pokes to Blitzø’s sides before backing off again. He couldn’t help himself.

They both sat on the floor for the rest of the day, talking about whatever came to mind or messing with each other.

They both really did miss times like these, they missed each other, and both couldn’t be happier that they’d be able to experience it again.

[mortifyingideal]

okay hi just came across your go2 post cause i was looking for a more critical opinion on the season and it was hard to find...so thank you so much!! i thought it was just.. meh. i expected so much more.. the last episode got pretty engaging, but the whole season i was thinking that the plot was super disjointed, the writing could've been way funnier, and the new characters really were flat 😬 didn't get the maggie & nina stuff, they had no chemistry to me.. idk. so weird. so it felt great to read your little take on it. hope you're having a lovely day 🥰

hey anon! i pretty much agree with everything you’ve said here. we spent so much time farting around in flashbacks (trying to recapture the magic of the s1e3 cold open) that everything happening in the present day just seemed not to matter, or had absolutely no time to matter. all the new characters felt like they were introduced to do one specific thing and they weren’t characters outside of a particular function so had no depth or exploration. the ‘plot’ was a mess and i’ve seen people saying that this season was just a bridge to get from season one to season three, and season three is where the real ‘meat’ will be and i’m just like [regina george dot meme] so you agree? this season had no meat?

neither crowley or aziraphale grew at all this season, which whatever okay if this is the second part in a three parter that’s… sure, but it’s not even just that they didn’t grow. it’s that, despite the ending of S1 being both of them being like ‘oh we were wrong and being here and saving earth and being together is what’s important’ they still both made the exact same choices they made in S1 before they’d learned that lesson!

i had some fun, some bits were brilliant, but most of it was decidedly not. in my opinion. you’re not alone, anon, and it’s fine that you didn’t love it. it’s frustrating when you wanna be genuinely interrogating what was actually presented but are worried about coming off as a WAAH WAAH THE THING I WANTED DIDN’T HAPPEN GOOD type. i hope you’ve got some good pals who you can chat critically about it with! a balm for the soul. and that you get to read some good fix-it fic, or write some if that’s your jam. that’s what i’m doing. fixing literally the entire thing for fun and because spite is a motivator i can work with xxx

[jess-the-vampire]

Hey I just recently finished your fanfic "Story Re-Writtwn" and I gotta say, it's the best fanfic I've read reallly! I'm just wondering if you still do gumceline stuffs? Seriously after 1 and a half month of reading it I just can't get enough of it lol.. looking forward to your reply, greetings!

Oof, i made that fic so long ago, but i am happy my old writing made someone happy even now.

i'll admit, i haven't done as much for them as i used to, not really because i don't WANT to per say, it's more that my relationship with the adventure time community is...complicated to say the least.

I joined when i was around 13-14 (A little over a decade ago, oof), so i was pretty young and was not familiar with the internet around that time, and at the time i was just...having fun, i was a fan of rare pairs and crackships and i really wanted to be in on that fun!

but y'know, lack of internet awareness, so i got really harassed by other shippers, especially people who shipped bubbline and it was a nightmare.

You know how people made ill judgements on the internet nowadays for some of the ships and characters people like? yeah, imagine 14 year old me being insulted as a horrible "homophobe" because i was having fun with a ship i knew pretty much was never gonna happen from the getgo and had really no ill will towards any of the canon ships. I was on blocklists, people made posts mocking me, it was pretty bad and while people did defend me at times, yeah i felt kinda isolated in that fanspace.

and that's not getting into other stuff that happened at the time with friends that i don't know if i wanna talk about....

the whole thing got so bad it kinda removed some of love for the show, i actually can't like bubbline as a ship anymore because it brings back some of those memories.

10 years later, i still worry about touching the community cause i expect it to happen all over again, even though realistically that's probably not true. I just try not to draw too much attention to myself whenever i do draw anything for them.

so....whether i touch the ship again like i once did is up in the air atm, if you want some content i still have the old ask blog.

I don't regret making it, i had to get my start somewhere and drawing a crackship i thought was fun wasn't all bad, i did make some friends that were genuinely sweet and some still are around....

(Guess you can say it's quite common for me in any fandom i join to be invested in more uncommon things in the fan space)

but for now i do not know what the future holds for me and future content for them and AT in general

But i am happy you enjoyed it! Maybe someday i'll feel confident enough to mess with it someday

[toomanykidsverse]

Okay, so just read these fantastic and beautiful stories and I’m in love!!😍 Thought I’d share a couple of hcs😉

- Stede and Izzy’s relationship continue to develop, albeit very slowly. Stede lets Izzy come to him in his own time, but as his life as a proper teenager quickly approaches, Izzy finds himself coming more and more to Stede for guidance, ‘cause what if his dad will just worry about him, oh no🙁 Stede talks to him calmly and he’s level-headed when giving advice. (Mostly about Izzy’s love life☺️)

- Izzy calls Stede ‘dad’ once when he’s about 17 and swears on his grave it’s an ACCIDENT, Lucius, stop smirking like that!😑 It happens again some months later, when he’s chatting with his boyfriends and he casually mentions his ‘dads’. Ivan and Fang exchange a look since they know of Izzy’s attitude towards his dad’s husband, and they’re both smiling at the implication of their boyfriend welcoming Stede more into his life.

- When Izzy is grown and about to marry Fang and Ivan, he asks both Ed and Stede to walk him down the aisle.💕 Stede is bawling the entire time, getting both his own and Ed’s suit all wet☺️ (Lucius is the maid of honor!!😁 And Swede is the flowerboy🌸 They tie the rings around Beastie’s collar so she can act as the ringbearer🐈‍⬛. No wait, I read a funny post somewhere about a couple having a little boy as their ringbearer, and he thought they meant ‘ring bear’ so he went down the aisle growling like a bear at everyone!! That’s Roach😂 Ok this is getting out of hand for me now..😅 Do I just want an entire fic of the pure chaos Izzy’s wedding will be with all those excitable siblings and over emotional dads?? Yes.😇)

ohhh yes I love these!

I have absolutely thought about how their relationship would change and grow as the years go by, it's slow but Izzy grows to genuinely like and care for Stede. This is absolutely not until he's an adult, but before then he at least grows from disliking to tolerating to eventually respecting Stede and genuinely getting advice and input from him.

And AAA Izzy calling Stede dad! He doesn't even notice he's done it until someone calls him on it, and then he tries to hard to backtrack. But talking about his "dads" to Ivan and Fang? Yeah, there's no backing out of that one. He once again doesn't notice and Ivan and Fang are nice enough to not mention it.

Rolling on the floor screaming and crying thinking about Izzy's wedding. It's an absolute mess with the whole family there, and Izzy, Ivan, and Fang wouldn't want it any other way <3

[spencers-renaissance]

i can't forgive me & you can't forget

Summary: Spencer is happy that his boyfriend is as compassionate as he is, but watching Derek do everything he can to help Strauss with her alcoholism when he stood by and did nothing back when he was struggling with his dilaudid addiction is beginning to take its toll.

Tags: hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst, insecurity, est. rel., hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, angst w a happy ending, fluff TW: referenced past drug use, addiction, and overdose, implied/referenced alcoholism

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // The other fic in this universe

Inspired by @marisatomay’s post here!!! The title is from the second part of the poem Betrayal by Lang Leav.

It’s pushing ten pm by the time Spencer finally hears the front door open and close with a soft click, hears the rustling of Derek ditching his leather jacket on the crowded coat rack and toeing off his shoes — no doubt placing them neatly at the side of the hall like he always does — and listens to his footsteps as he nears the bedroom where Spencer’s been holed up since Derek left.

“Hey, baby boy,” Derek says with a warm, relaxed smile, his fingers already working on undoing his shirt buttons, before digging through their wardrobe to find a more comfortable top.

“Hey.”

Spencer watches him with tired eyes. He’s been feeling as hurt and despondent as he does this evening for weeks now, but tonight is the first time he doesn’t have the energy to hide it. He’s spent the entire afternoon in bed, and he’s certain it shows in the imprints of the creased pillowcase on his cheek and his messed up hair, and where just a couple of days ago he’d rush to hide those tells, he simply doesn’t care enough anymore.

Derek turns around from the wardrobe and shrugs off his shirt, replacing it with a soft blue t-shirt Spencer’s always liked on him. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

Spencer shakes his head. Derek undoes his belt and switches his trousers for a pair of grey sweatpants before walking over to the bed and climbing onto the mattress, grinning cheekily as he rolls over Spencer’s body and leans down to press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose.

It’s sweet and romantic and so painfully normal, and maybe that’s exactly why he suddenly finds himself swallowing back tears. He’s hardly spent any time with Derek outside of work in weeks and he’s hurt and sad and struggling, and it’s only making it worse that his loving and attentive boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. Really, Spencer knows he needs to communicate, and that a significant part of his pain is his responsibility, but the shame—

“Well that just won’t do,” Derek murmurs, interrupting his thoughts as he brushes his fingers over a lock of curly hair resting on Spencer’s temple. “I’ll go and make you something. Or we can order in? What do you fancy?”

Spencer shrugs, looking away. He’s not trying to be difficult, it’s just incredibly hard to think about food and a relaxing night in with your partner when you feel like your insides are splintering and you’re just barely holding yourself together.

Even without looking directly at his face, Spencer can see Derek’s brow furrow and his happy expression fade, and soon enough Derek’s fingers are at his chin, gently moving his head until he’s looking at him again. “Hey, pretty boy,” he says gently, looking so concerned it makes his chest ache, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on in that big old head of yours.”

So much of him wants to give in and tell him everything, wants to spill his fears and his anxieties and his anger and his shame onto the sheets of their bed and lay it all out for him. He wants to shout, “See? This is who I am! This is all my mess and my pain and my regret! Look at it!”

But he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to meet the swirling worry in Derek’s deep, beautiful brown eyes and he wills himself not to cry. “Nothing,” he lies. “I’m just tired. Hungry.”

He knows Derek doesn’t believe him, but there isn’t much he can do if Spencer isn’t willing to communicate, so he nods reluctantly and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead this time, lingering there for a moment longer than he usually does. The feeling of his boyfriend hovering over him and asking him what’s wrong and kissing him so tenderly is all Spencer’s craved for weeks, but now it’s here, he still feels sad and empty and hollowed out by shame and bitterness, desperate for something more without so much as an idea as to what exactly more might entail.

“I tell you what, I’ll go make you some tortellini, alright? There’s a pack in the fridge and it only takes a couple of minutes so I’ll be back before you know it,” Derek promises, and Spencer can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Regardless, Derek hops off the bed and heads out to the kitchen, leaving Spencer alone in the softly lit bedroom. He pulls the duvet further up to his chin and buries his face in it, the soft fabric gentle on his skin, and the comforting scent of Spencer’s shampoo mingling with Derek’s cologne settling him slightly.

Derek had spent the afternoon with Strauss at the rehab centre. And not for the first time.

The problem is, how can Spencer be mad at him for that? Really, it’s the epitome of his character: genuine, constant, unconditional compassion for everyone around him, no matter who they are or what his history with them might be. Of course he’d see Strauss struggling with her addiction and swoop right in, getting her settled in at the centre and spending hours with her on visiting days, fighting alongside Hotch to persuade the director to let her keep her job.

But watching him leave every week, watching him text her encouraging messages, hearing him talk about her progress and recovery… it strikes a nerve deep inside Spencer. He isn’t proud of how he feels. He knows it’s petty and illogical, but he can’t help it.

Because somewhere deep in his soul, an old version of himself, a sad, lonely, scared, addicted-to-dilaudid boy is crying out, why didn’t you do that for me?

It’s that question that really plagues him. They’re called into work the next day for a fairly interesting case in North Dakota, and there are some fairly strong links to the world of academia, so usually, Spencer would be all over it, reeling off facts and statistics and reaching out to his contacts to further the case. But for some reason, he just can’t get his head in the game.

He finds himself zoning out on the jet and wandering off at crime scenes without even knowing where he’s going. Initially, his team had assumed that he was thinking, or was going somewhere deliberately that might help them with the case, they’d all counted on Doctor Reid to come up with some brilliant theory to bring them closer to catching their unsub.

But Hotch had quickly realised that his head was somewhere else and kept him close to his side from then on. At least staying at the police station with Hotch and being tasked with reading through the unsub’s literary work and constructing a geographical profile both gives him something specific to focus on, and — as much as Spencer hates to admit it — keeps him away from Derek.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Hotch asks gently when they both find themselves at the coffee pot in the late afternoon. He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes focused on the stream of coffee and creamer headed straight for his mug. Spencer knows it’s a tactic to make him feel less ambushed and more relaxed, but that doesn’t stop it from working.

“No,” he says honestly.

Hotch nods in acceptance. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes briefly. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

Both JJ and Emily eye him suspiciously throughout the case as well, but no one is more confused and concerned than Derek. Spencer tries not to think about the irony.

“Baby, what’s got you all distracted like this?” Derek asks softly when they’re finally alone in their room that night, full up from the rushed dinner they’d all had in the lobby before crawling to their rooms for a couple of hours’ sleep before the manhunt continues in the morning. “This is so unlike you and you know it.”

Spencer doesn’t reply, just continues quietly changing into his pajamas before brushing his teeth and washing his face. Derek’s still sitting in the same position when he comes out, looking frustrated and contemplative, and Spencer feels guilty for making him feel this way, but he just doesn’t know what to do. He can’t act like everything's okay because it isn’t, and he’s tired himself out from pretending that it was for weeks, now. But he can’t tell him what’s going on either.

The thing is, how is Spencer supposed to admit that he’s still hurt over something that happened almost five years ago now? And how is he supposed to admit that Derek doing the right thing is only reopening wounds he’d tried so hard to heal and close? That both Derek and Hotch had specifically helped him heal and close?

He doesn’t know how to verbalise his feelings without sounding petulant or pathetic, so he doesn’t. He keeps them buried deep inside him and hopes desperately that no one comes digging.

“I’m fine, Derek,” he lies again, leaning down to kiss him gently before rounding the bed and crawling under the covers. “Just having an off day, I guess.”

Derek sighs but doesn’t push any further, clearly knowing a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he follows in Spencer’s footsteps and gets ready for bed silently, whispering a quiet good night before switching off the lamp and climbing into bed on the other side.

It feels like the expanse of white sheet between them goes on for miles.

It’s the first time Spencer’s regretted Hotch’s decision to continue letting them share a room.

The question continues to plague him over the next week. He gets marginally better at pretending he’s not falling apart at the seams, and it’s enough to make almost everyone back off, but Hotch is still concerned and Derek is still confused, and he can feel himself drifting further away from the team each day, as though his rope tying him to the others has been cut, and now the current is having its way with him.

Nothing much changes. He continues in his hurt and lonely quietude, and Derek continues to ask what’s wrong, sighing sadly when he gets nothing out of him, and they exist in tandem.

It had always felt — ever since the beginning of their relationship — as though their relationship was a salsa dance. They were tangled in one another’s lives, both physically and emotionally, and they existed in this relaxed kind of ease that Spencer’s only ever seen before in long-term relationships. They’d fallen into a lucky, easy kind of love, and it was never as much work as everyone had promised him a relationship would be.

They’ve been together for four years, and their worst fight was over whether the cheese grater went in the cupboard next to the sink or above it. (Granted, it had spiraled into some other disagreements that came along with cohabitation, but. Still.)

Spencer knows he’s introducing a dynamic they’re unused to, and he hates it. Guilt plagues him, mingling with his shame and sadness until he’s drowning under the weight of it, no way to claw himself to the surface to take a breath.

They exist on parallel lines: next to one another; yet never crossing over. Their relationship is no longer a salsa dance.

The next off-day they have, Derek can’t get out the door fast enough. “I’m off to visit Erin,” he tells Spencer, and it still makes him irrationally angry that he’s stopped calling her Strauss and now refers to her like a friend.

Is it better that Strauss is now Derek’s friend? Him helping someone he actually cares about makes him not caring about Spencer all those years again slightly less of a gut-punch, he supposes. But the fact that Derek and Strauss of all people are becoming closer while he and Spencer drift apart hurts in a way he can’t even begin to explain.

This time, he spends the entire day crying. Every time the tears slow down and he catches his breath, another wave of grief and pain and anxiety and shame and jealousy crashes over him, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe again. It’s an exhausting cycle, and by the early afternoon his stomach muscles are aching and his ribs feel bruised.

It’s also the first day he gets a craving.

He’s an addict, right, he’s had periods of intermittent cravings over the years, that’s completely normal. Sometimes, even thinking about it in passing is enough for the itch to come back, to whisper the number of his old dealer in his ear, to recall in both his physical and mental memory the feeling that came with each press of the syringe.

This is the most intense one since his withdrawal immediately after waking up in hospital following his accidental overdose in his parking garage. It’s so intense that it scares him.

Crying harder than he thought it possible, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and — fighting the temptation to type in the digits of his dealer — he dials the number he’s had memorised since he was nineteen. He can’t speak through his gut-wrenching sobs, but he knows the sound of him crying this hard will be enough, so he lies in bed and continues his pity party until he hears the front door swing open and the rapid steps through the hall.

Soon enough, Hotch is pulling him into his arms and he finally feels a little less alone.

Hotch lets him cry himself out, and only when his tears have dried up and the hiccups have subsided does he say anything besides the reassuring murmurs he’d spoken into Spencer’s ears as he cried.

“Spencer,” he says — somewhat desperately — “please. You have to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let you suffer on your own anymore, I promise.”

Spencer doesn’t raise his head from its position buried in Hotch’s t-shirt, but he does finally say something. He doesn’t know what overrides the shame that’s kept him quiet — maybe it’s the exhaustion or the loneliness finally winning out — but whatever it is, he’s glad it does.

“I had a craving today,” he whispers, because it seems like a good place to start. “Haven’t been feeling good since, uh. Since… Strauss.”

It’s hopelessly phrased, but it’s the best way he can explain it and Hotch, being the miracle profiler and father figure of Spencer Reid, figures it out instantly.

He feels the way he slumps slightly, hears the tired, frustrated sigh, and knows he’s probably beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”

Hotch shushes him. “You don’t need to apologise for that, Spencer, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry for being so blind, and I am. I hate that you’ve been suffering like this and we’ve all been too stupid to realise why.”

“It still, it still hurts,” he says quietly, sadly, regretfully, “it still hurts that no one helped me until it was almost too late. But everyone dropped everything to help Strauss— I’m sorry, it’s so selfish, I shouldn’t be—”

“Hey, Spence,” Hotch interrupts him, caressing his arm gently. “It isn’t selfish. It’s human. And you’re right, we should have helped you sooner and it’s always been my greatest regret that we didn’t, and that because of that dereliction of duty, we almost lost you.”

“I’m not, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything—”

“Spencer, I know that. But you need to stop feeling guilty for how you feel, alright? It makes complete sense that this is bringing up both the feelings of rejection and betrayal, and also cravings for the drug you were addicted to at the time. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. “Derek’s been visiting Strauss on our days off,” he admits quietly. “I’ve barely seen him for almost a month now, and that— it isn’t helping.”

“I can understand that. Have you talked to him about any of this?” he asks, even though Spencer’s sure Hotch already knows the answer.

He shakes his head.

“I know it’s hard, Spence, I really do, but I think you need to talk to him. Obviously, it would’ve been better if both he and I had figured it out without you having to tell us, but clearly, he isn’t going to realise by himself. I know that as soon as you explain it, he’ll understand completely.”

Spencer sighs. Some part of him had known this was coming, he just didn’t know how it would come about. He wouldn’t have put money on Hotch being involved, but maybe he should have done. He always seems to come to Spencer’s rescue.

“He’ll probably be out for a while. He usually stays out for hours when he goes to visit her.”

“Well, how about I stay until he comes home, and then you can talk to him? How does that sound?”

Spencer looks up at him. “What about Jack?”

“He’s out with a friend and their family anyway,” Hotch reassures him, smiling as he runs a hand down his arm. “Now how about I make you some tea and we go and sit on the sofa?”

Spencer reluctantly agrees and moves from the safety of his bed to the comfort of his sofa, but he has to admit that the light streaming in from the big bay window and the feeling of sitting up makes him feel just a little better straight away. Once Hotch is back and placing a cup of chamomile tea into his hands, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.

“I have to ask, Spencer,” Hotch says carefully, “did you buy any dilaudid? Or attempt to contact your dealer?”

“Thought about it,” he admits, not meeting Hotch’s concerned eyes, “but I didn’t.”

Hotch relaxes. “Good. I’m proud of you, you know.”

Spencer looks at him with a hesitant smile that only grows when Hotch beams back.

They spend the afternoon watching nature documentaries — and Spencer admittedly dozes through a lot of them, exhausted from the burden of carrying so much pain around and the physical exertion of crying so hard — until Derek comes home at just gone five thirty.

“Hotch?” he asks, confused, and his voice wakes Spencer up from one of his unintentional naps.

He scrambles to sit upright, going inexplicably red at the thought of what he knows is coming. For some reason, he feels like he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off. He hates that this is what his relationship with Derek has come to.

“Hi, Derek,” Hotch says, squeezing Spencer’s ankle and getting up from the sofa. “Spencer asked me to come over earlier” — which is a bit of a stretch when really Spencer sobbed into the phone until Hotch showed up — “and I was just keeping him company until you came home.”

Derek’s eyebrows only furrow further, looking between them, confused. “Right.”

“Spencer,” Hotch says, meeting his eyes, “are you okay if I go now? You’ll tell Derek what we talked about?”

Immediately, Spencer blushes red as Derek’s scrutinising eyes fixate on him, but he nods and smiles weakly at Hotch, following him with his eyes as he lets himself out, if just to avoid meeting Derek’s.

“Pretty boy?” Derek says cautiously, slowly taking off his jacket and approaching the sofa like Spencer’s a wild animal liable to be spooked away at any given moment. He supposes it’s probably quite a good analogy, actually.

Spencer shifts nervously in his seat, moving his legs out of the way to give Derek more room to sit down on the sofa.

“You finally gonna tell me what’s been up with you these last few weeks?” Derek asks, and Spencer isn’t oblivious to the hope in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you, baby.”

Spencer nods and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. He’s told one person, and it went fine— it went well, actually. Derek is his life partner, his soulmate, and they tell each other everything. He just needs to start at the beginning. He needs to tell him all of the disclaimers, remind him that he’s not angry at him for doing the right thing or for being the compassionate person he is, he just needs to— He needs to focus, and he needs to tell the truth.

“I called Hotch earlier because I was scared of myself,” he says, finally opening his eyes and looking into Derek’s. “I was having some of the most intense cravings I’ve had since being sober, and I was seriously considering calling my dealer, but I managed to call Hotch instead, and we talked about how I’ve been feeling.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Derek says regretfully, his face melting into the very picture of apologetic as he scoots a bit closer on the sofa so he can grab Spencer’s legs and pull them over his lap.

“I know,” Spencer replies, ignoring for now that him not being here is why they have a problem in the first place. He moves on. “I’ve been… struggling… over the last month or so with feelings that I haven’t really known how to rationalise or explain, and when I finally did make sense of them, I felt that I couldn’t share them with anyone, which is why I’ve been so distant and private. And I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

Derek just smiles, caressing his bare ankle with one hand as he rests his other over his shin.

He pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts, but before he can think about it too hard, the words come spilling out, unbidden. “I’ve found it hard to reconcile your attentiveness and willingness to throw everything at helping Strauss, and the way no-one helped me with my addiction back in 2007.”

Derek’s face instantly falls, and saying the words out loud brings all the emotions he’d managed to control back again in full force, and suddenly his face is crumpling, too. Derek surges forward, moving them both until he’s situated between the sofa cushions and Spencer, cuddling him as close as he can while Spencer cries into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as he begins to cry as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything then and I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together to realise why you were struggling so much. I can’t believe I was so oblivious, Spence, oh God.”

They lie there for a long time, crying together as Derek runs his hands through Spencer’s hair and Spencer clings desperately to the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt.

“I was just feeling so distant from you because we weren’t spending as much time together, and I had no idea how to admit that I was feeling hurt about something that happened almost five years ago,” he continues when they’ve both calmed down again, and they’re ready to resume the conversation. “I guess I just felt… ashamed of both my feelings now and being jealous, which is so ridiculous, I had no idea how to tell anyone how I was feeling. And I’m so sorry that my lack of communication affected us so much.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry that I was hurting you when I should’ve known the effect my actions would have. This whole mess is on me for so many reasons.”

“Der, I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says insistently, urgently, looking at him imploringly. “You’ve apologised enough for what happened back then, and there’s no way we can change what happened. You were just being the same kind and compassionate person you always are when you were helping Strauss.” He reaches out and cups Derek’s face gently, hating the tells of guilt and self-loathing he can see all over it.

Derek sighs and moves Spencer’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his palm. “When I was sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to wake up,” he explains, “I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I would never let anyone down like that again. I was never going to stand back and watch anyone else I knew fall into the same trap you did. So when I realised Strauss had a drinking problem, all I saw was an opportunity to keep that promise.

“The only problem was that I was so wrapped up in doing the right thing in helping her that I wasn’t doing the right thing by you. I should’ve realised all the feelings, physical and emotional, that this would bring up for you, but I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, baby boy, I really am.”

Spencer cuddles back into Derek, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and relaxing into the reassuring scent of his person. “I know, Der. I forgive you.”

“How about we order in some Thai for dinner from your favourite restaurant and watch some Doctor Who?” Derek suggests after a couple of minutes of silence. “I think we’re long overdue for some quality time together.”

Spencer smiles at him, feeling so much of the heaviness that’s been weighing him down over the last few weeks lift that he feels almost like he’s floating. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

They set the living room up to be as cosy as possible, lighting the candles Penelope had made for them and using only their soft lamps to light the room, before piling the couch high with blankets and pillows until they’re cuddled together in a little nest.

The evening is spent eating their favourite food and watching their favourite season of Doctor Who, and while Spencer’s still hurting and they still have healing to do, this feels like a damn good start.

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer whispers to Derek late into the night, when they’re close to falling asleep in the comfort of their blanket pile.

Derek turns to him, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“You made a mistake when you let things get bad with my addiction back in 2007,” Spencer explains, “and when you saw someone headed down the same path, you stopped at nothing to make sure you didn’t make that mistake again. If anything shows me how much you regret not doing anything sooner, it’s your devotion to Strauss’ recovery.”

Derek smiles at him, his eyes a little watery, and holds his chin gently as he leans in to kiss him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”

Spencer kisses him again before cuddling back into his side. “I know you do, Derek. And I love you, too.”

And really, when it comes down to it, that’s enough.

Ahhh, this was the first fic in forever that actually felt fairly easy to write thank GOD. I loved this concept and writing that good, good angst was so much fun. Plus, we always love a happy ending in this house! Also, a reminder that how other people when you confront them with the way they hurt you or made you feel is not your responsibility.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (add yourself to my taglist here!)

[romione-trope-fest]

No, not you

Finishing up today's posts with another Sixth Year AU!! Follow @reallybeth9 for updates!

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Fic Title- No, not you Author Name- reallybeth Selected Trope- 6th year AU Brief Summary- It's 6th year, and Hermione and Ron are finally on the same page after Ron and Lavender go their separate ways. However, when Hermione finds the courage to tell Ron how she feels, his response is not what she expects. Miscommunication drives them apart until years later, but is it already too late? Magical AU Word Count- 3,389 Rating- mature

Hi! Welcome to my new angsty romione fic!!! (really, if you were expecting anything other than angst from me, idk what to say)

  I have been working on this for a while, and I’m so excited to finally start posting! No promises on updates because even though I have about half of it already written, it’s not really in order and is a MESS. 

  Anyway, this starts off as a 6th year AU, but the majority of it will take place when Ron and Hermione are a few years older. In the beginning it is mostly canon, but there are still a few significant differences that you’ll find as you read that drastically stray from canon.

  POV is going to be jumping around from Ron and Hermione, and a lot of scenes are going to be told from both of their perspectives in order to better understand what they are thinking. Hopefully, this doesn't get too confusing!

  A huge shoutout to CHEESY who is a freaking beta-queen as well as a stupendous writer!

  oOo

  "Okay." 

  Hermione contemplated the information she had just been given. It was Thursday night, and she, Harry, and Ron were sitting at the very back table in the deserted library as Harry relayed to them everything he’d learnt that night. She held up her fingers and started to list the number of objects, wanting to make sure she had all the information correct. 

  "There's the diary, which you destroyed at the end of second year, and the ring, which Dumbledore has already destroyed." Harry nodded his affirmation as she went on. "Then there's Helga Hufflepuff's cup, the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin's locket- all of which Dumbledore has already collected, but hasn't yet destroyed." 

  Harry nodded again, a grave look on his face. "So once those pieces of him are taken care of, all there is left to do is kill Voldemort's snake, and then... him ?"

  “Yes. That’s all,” Harry confirmed.

  Although he said nothing else, Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that there was something important that Harry still wasn't telling them. Part of her wanted to press him further and ask more questions, but knew that wasn't a smart idea at the moment. Harry had been under a lot of pressure lately, and spent most of his free time with Dumbledore as the two concocted plans to take down Voldemort. Harry wholly believed that the entire wizarding world was on his shoulders, and no reassurance from his two closest friends could persuade him otherwise. Wanting to be a means of comfort, Hermione reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, but Harry didn't even seem to notice the gesture, his body stiff and his jaw clenched.

  Worried, she looked across the table at Ron, who had been silent throughout the entirety of the conversation, without a doubt deep in thought as Harry had explained the Horcruxes to them in detail. Up until that night, she and Ron hadn’t even known what a Horcrux was, nor had they known that Dumbledore had been secretly collecting them since their third year. 

  As if sensing her eyes on him, Ron looked up and met her gaze, causing Hermione’s stomach to do a small flip. Although appearing deeply troubled, the corner of his mouth lifted, and Hermione returned the gesture as she pushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear, hoping he hadn't noticed how much the smile had affected her. Ever since his poisoning and subsequent breakup with Lavender Brown, she and Ron had only grown closer, and Ron seemed genuinely as happy as Hermione was to have their friendship restored. 

  As Hermione tried to focus on something other than the butterflies in her chest, Ron turned his blue eyes to Harry, his smile dropping as he spoke for the first time in what seemed like hours. “And Dumbledore wants you to come with him? When he goes for Voldemort, I mean?” 

  “Yes. I have to be there,” Harry said resolutely, as if there was no room for argument about this particular step in the plan. “I don't know when Dumbledore wants to face him, but I know it’ll be soon. Real soon.”

  “Harry, you're sixteen!” Hermione admonished. “Dumbledore can't possibly think that bringing you along is-”

  “I already told you, Hermione,” Harry interrupted in a sharp tone. “I’m the bait. Dumbledore’s plan won't work unless I’m there.” 

  Hermione resisted the urge to let out a frustrated sigh. It was taking effort on her part not to snap right back at him and tell him how ridiculous he was being, but she managed to refrain. “But he-”

  “Not only that,” Harry continued. “But Dumbledore hasn't been feeling his best, and I need to be ready to step in if I’m needed.” 

  The determined look in her black-haired best friend’s eyes scared Hermione, and she shot another look at Ron, who appeared to be just as disturbed as she felt.

  “I’ll come too, mate,” he cut in, his expression also taking on a look of determination.

  Hermione rapidly shook her head. “Ron- no. ” 

  Ron, who Hermione was positive had heard her plea, continued speaking without missing a beat. “I reckon Dumbledore should have all the help he can get, and if I-”

  Harry’s hand came down hard as he smacked the table, the loud sound causing Hermione to let out a small squeal of surprise. “No!” Harry bellowed, now unable to reign in his frustration. “I told you before, Ron. It has to be me and Dumbledore! Dumbledore knows what he’s doing, and I trust him. End of the goddamn story.” 

  Hermione could tell by the heated look on Ron’s face that he was more than ready to argue this point. She knew she needed to intervene- and fast. Without thinking, she slipped her shoe off and stuck her leg out underneath the table, running her foot up Ron’s leg from his ankle to his knee in a way that she hoped would be calming. The effect, though, was seemingly anything but, as Ron jumped about a foot in his seat, his eyes snapping to Hermione in bewilderment as his face and ears reddened. It only then occurred to Hermione that Ron must have taken the touch as a sensual thing, and she felt her own face flush as she realized what she’d done. She immediately pulled her leg back and avoided his gaze, internally chastising herself for the move. Although not in the way she’d originally planned, at least she had seemed to stop a row from happening, as Ron was once again silent.

  Luckily, it appeared Harry was too deep in thought to notice any of this, his green eyes glazed over as he stared hard at the table. “Gonna go to bed,” he mumbled after a few long seconds of silence. “I’ll talk to you both tomorrow.” 

  Without waiting for a response, he stood up and left, leaving Ron and Hermione to watch after his retreating form. 

  Ron broke the silence with a sigh, and when Hermione looked at him, he was running both of his large hands down his face. “It always comes down to this, doesn't it?” he asked, sounding exhausted. “Bloody Harry telling us he doesn't need our help.”

  Hermione nodded. “Yes. But as much as I hate it, Ron, you know neither of us are going to be able to talk him out of it this time. Especially if Dumbledore wants it that way.”

  “Yeah. I know,” he replied in a dejected voice, his eyes on the open book in front of him even though it was apparent he wasn't reading it. 

  Hermione couldn't help but take a moment to stare at him. She’d missed him so much the whole time they hadn't been speaking. Since making up, they hadn't rowed once, and Ron had been so incredibly kind and caring towards her, it almost took her breath away. No longer did he complain about schoolwork- and instead was eager to join her in the library every day to study, oftentimes without Harry. He paid her compliments when he hadn't before, and he was always quick to offer to carry her books or ask her if she needed anything. Even if Ron had yet to say anything definitive, she was almost certain that they were on the cusp of something more . 

  “What?” Ron asked, and Hermione realized she had been so deep in thought that he had caught her staring at him. When her eyes met his, he had a small smile on his face, although his ears were once again red.

  “I- oh, nothing,” she stammered.

  “Is it about earlier?” he pressed. “Under the table, I mean. What was that about, by the way?” Hermione could tell that he was trying to sound indifferent, but by the shade of his face and the way he was avoiding direct eye contact with her, she knew he was anything but.

  Embarrassed, she shook her head, letting out a small, nervous laugh. “It was silly, really. I just sensed that you were going to try and argue with Harry so I thought I could, I don't know, calm you down or something.” 

  “And you thought that caressing my leg with your foot would do that?” He chuckled, lifting his head and arching an eyebrow at her.

  “Oh, honestly!” Hermione rolled her eyes. “It wasn't a caress , it was a…rub.”

  Ron chuckled again. “Yeah, you're right. Rub sounds much better, Hermione.”

  Hermione tried to glare at him but couldn't help but let out a small laugh as she took in the amused expression on his face. “Okay, fine!” she admitted. “Not my most clever idea, alright?”

  Ron shrugged. “It’s not that I didn't like it,” he clarified, his ears growing even more red. “Just wasn't expecting it is all.”

  Hermione again felt the butterflies erupting in her stomach. She added the words to the myriad he’d said to her lately, knowing she would think of them as she lay in her bed, picking them apart and trying to figure out the extent of his feelings for her.

  “Let’s go as well, yeah?” Ron suggested, closing his book and standing up. “It is pretty late.”

  Reluctantly, Hermione agreed, and Ron silently helped her put all of her books back into her bag. Finished, they walked side by side as they made their way to the library doors. Lately, they had been walking closer to each other than they'd ever done before, and anytime they walked together, be it prefect duty or just going to and from the library or the great hall for meals, the back of her hand would brush against Ron’s, causing her skin to tingle. As innocent as this was, Hermione looked forward to it every day and hoped that soon it would lead to them actually holding hands. She was certain that the hand brushing was intentional on both their parts, but neither of them had yet to acknowledge out loud that it was happening.

  They leisurely headed towards the Gryffindor common room, and Hermione could only hope that Ron was walking slow for the same reason that she was- to delay their eventual parting from each other.

  “How’s, uh, things with your parents going?” Ron asked in a hesitant voice. “Are they still trying to make you leave Hogwarts?”

  Hermione nodded. “They are.” She took in the worried expression on his face and hurried to reassure him. “But it doesn't matter, Ron, because no matter what they say, I am not leaving. Hogwarts is my home.”

  Ron gave her a small, relieved smile. “Good. It would be miserable here without you. I don’t know what I’d do if you left. Nothing would be the same.”

  Hermione bit her lip, his words making her giddy. “I won't. I promise.”

  “Promise, huh?” he asked, shooting her a sideways grin.

  “Yes, Ron. I promise .”

  “I’ll hold you to it, then.” He paused. “Hey, uh- Hermione?” Ron was now staring straight ahead, and Hermione could sense he was nervous.

  “Hm?” she hummed, gently encouraging him to go on.

  “Hogsmeade is this weekend.”

  “Yes, it is,” Hermione said in a slow voice, her heart now racing. If she was reading things correctly, Ron was finally making a move and asking her out on a proper date. Her palms grew sweaty as she waited on bated breath for his next words.

  He cleared his throat. “Want to go? Just the two of us, I mean?”

  Hermione nodded. “Absolutely. I’d love to, Ron.”

  Ron let out a breath. “Well, great! Since Harry will be spending the day with Dumbledore, I figured we could have some decent fun without Broody McBrooderson around.”

  Laughing, Hermione nudged his shoulder with hers, Ron grinning widely at the gesture. “Sure. I’d love to,” she repeated, trying not to sound too excited. “But then we go right back to worrying about Harry,” she added.

  He grinned. “Of course. We can't take too much time off worrying about the git. Someone has to do the job.”

  “You're awful, Ronald Weasley,” Hermione scolded. “Harry’s not that bad!” 

  When Ron gave her a pointed look, she laughed again. “Okay, he is that bad. But we care for him, Ron. And when you care about someone...”

  Ron nodded, his expression now serious. “Yeah. I know. I really am worried about him. I know he trusts Dumbledore, but I don't think this plan is a good one. What’s the old man thinking? Making Harry be right there in the thick of it all?” 

  Hermione bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears. “Harry’s been through so much already.”

  Ron turned to look at her, coming to a halt when he saw how visibly upset she was. “Hey,” he said in a soft voice. “It’s going to be alright, Hermione.” He hesitated only a moment before stepping up in front of her and pulling her body to his in a tight hug. Hermione let out a shaky sigh as she relaxed against him, allowing herself to take comfort in the feeling of his arms around her. 

  “I hope you're right,” she whispered. “But you can't know that for sure.”

  “I know,” Ron soothed as he lifted his hand and stroked her hair. “But he’s Harry Potter, isn't he? He’s managed not to get killed by Voldemort a few times already, so I’m sure he can do it again.”

  Hermione sniffed against his chest. “That’s not funny, Ron!”

  Ron sighed. “No. It really isn't. I just don't know what else to say to make everything better, Hermione. You saw how he was tonight- there's not going to be any changing his mind. Whenever it comes time to, you know, take Voldemort down, Harry’s going to be there. As reckless as they come, he is.”

  Knowing she had to be brave and trust in the fact that everything would turn out okay despite how scared she was, Hermione reluctantly stepped back from Ron, wiping her nose and eyes on her sleeve. “You're right,” she agreed. “And since there's no stopping him, we need to be strong. As his friends, we need to support him, no matter how much we disagree.”

  Ron, who looked as if he were resisting the urge to pull her back to him, nodded. “Yeah.”

  Hermione took a step forward, but Ron didn't move to follow. When she turned back to him, she realized he was eyeing her with concern, as if making sure she really was okay. 

  “I’m okay, Ron,” she assured him. “Come on.”

  Ron seemed to believe her, and again they fell into step together. Neither of them said much the rest of the walk back to the common room, both of them deep in thought, and both worried about Harry. When they approached the portrait of The Fat Lady, Ron muttered the password and stepped back, allowing Hermione to enter first as the painting swung open. The common room was empty, the fire still crackling in the fireplace. Hermione thought about asking Ron to sit down with her, but then decided against it due to the late hour. 

  “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ron asked when they made it to the bottom of the stairs where they would be going their separate ways.

  “Yeah. First thing.”

  They stood there, smiling stupidly at each other, before Ron broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Right. See you tomorrow, then,” he said before reaching out and gently squeezing her shoulder. Even through her layers of clothing, Ron’s hand was warm, and his touch caused a pleasant shiver to run down Hermione’s spine.

  “Goodnight, Ron,” she said, giving him a warm smile.

  “G’night, Hermione.” he replied before giving her one last lopsided grin and turning to practically run up the steps.

  Still smiling, Hermione turned and headed up to her dorm room. She hoped that the other girls would already be asleep, but when she opened the door and stepped into the room, she was not in luck. Parvati and Lavender were sitting on Lavender’s bed, both girls going silent and turning their heads to give Hermione a cool stare. Ignoring them, Hermione made her way over to her bed where she grabbed her toiletries and pyjamas. Without saying a word, she headed into the bathroom, trying to ignore the whispers that she now heard coming from her roommates.

  oOo

  Ron ran up the steps to his dorm room, unable to stop smiling like a fool.

  He’d done it.

  He’d finally fucking done it.

  Not only had he worked up the courage to ask Hermione out on a date, she’d actually told him yes. He felt as if he were floating on air, his mind spinning with all the possibilities that Saturday could offer. A feeling like he’d been knocked over the head by a bludger fell over him when he realized that in only a few days’ time, Hermione could very well be his girlfriend . When he opened the door, Dean, Seamus, and Harry were already asleep in their beds, but Neville was still up tending to his several plants that sat on the windowsill.

  “Hello, Ron,” the soft-spoken boy greeted as Ron shut the door behind him. 

  “Hey, Nev,” he responded, still feeling dazed.

  Neville must've noticed that Ron was acting abnormal, because he paused, a puzzled expression on his face as he studied his friend. “You okay?” he asked.

  Ron snorted. “Okay? I’m bloody amazing.”

  Neville smiled. “So you and Hermione finally had a pleasant talk, then?”

  Ron’s eyes widened, surprised at how easily Neville had figured him out. “Uh, yeah, we did.”

  Neville beamed. “I’m happy the two of you are working it out. I always knew you would.”

  Feeling pleased, but a bit embarrassed, Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Thanks, Nev.”

  “It was awful when you two weren’t speaking,” Neville continued. “Made it hard to be around either of you when you were both so miserable.”

  “Yeah,” Ron admitted. “It was rough.” He paused. “Hey, Nev?”

  Neville stopped in the middle of turning a potted plant and lifted his head to look at him. “Yeah?”

  “You really think I have a chance? With Hermione?”

  The other boy smiled again. “Definitely. No question in my mind.” Ron let out a breath, a grin stretching across his face. “It really surprised all of us when you got with Lavender instead of Hermione,” Neville continued. “But we knew that it wasn't going to last.”

  Ron nodded. “That was definitely a mistake I wholeheartedly regret. No offense to Lav or anything- she’s just not for me.”

  “I know. Hermione is, though.”

  Ron resisted the urge to jump with delight at the mention of her name, delighted by Neville’s encouragement. “To be honest, I never thought we would get to this point, but now I know we will. I can feel it.”

  Neville yawned. “Took you long enough,” he teased.

  Ron chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in.” He stripped down to his pants before crawling into his four poster and closing the curtains with a flick of his wand. “Night.”

  “Goodnight,” Neville replied, Ron hearing as the other boy climbed into his own bed.

  The smile still on his face, Ron closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep as images of Hermione’s beautiful face swam through his mind.

[thefanficmonster]

Few Too Many

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, In-game violence and death, Suggestive comments

Genre: Protective fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially when the jealous person is armed with a gun....in a game of Counter Strike. At least Y/N’s friend will now know not to mess around and flirt with her, especially not with Corpse around.

Requested by 🐐 Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request but here it finally is! I didn’t want to make it IRL violence to avoid triggering anyone while I also felt it’d be very ooc for Corpse to beat someone up but I still hope you enjoy the fic if you come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey everyone!“ Y/N greets her squad as they all customize their characters while I sit there, observing and unknowing of what I’m supposed to do. “I invited Corpse to play with us today, hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Nice to finally meet you, Corpse. We’ve heard a ton about you from Y/N, thanks for making our girl the happiest she’s ever been.“ One of her friends says, the tone of his voice suggesting he’s only half-joking with the dad like comment he made.

“Nice to meet you too, man. Glad I’m the one she gave the chance of making her happy. That’s all I ever wanna do.“ Though it may sound cheesy, as guys, her friends can probably read into how genuinely I mean what I’ve said.

Dating a girl with only guy friends has it’s pros and cons. Which outweigh which is still up for debate since I’m still researching, but so far so good in my opinion. This is the first time I’m interacting with them directly so I’ve still got a long way to go in terms of getting to know them and the details of their relationship with Y/N better. Regardless, I at least know they can easily understand me and put themselves in my shoes if I ever ‘mess things up’ with Y/N and she goes to complain to them - something that will most likely never happen. I’d never dare make this girl upset. Chances are, if I do, her friends won’t get to me on time - I would deliver my own punishment just the way I think I deserve it. However, there’s also the chance of them getting super protective of her and ganging up on me over something as small as a fight. By the many things and stories Y/N’s shared with me about them, I believe they wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone’s ass for her. They’re not massive dudes - I’ve seen pictures of them - but I for one don’t ever wanna see em angry.

“Ay bro, what’d you do to score our best girl? You must know what she likes. If so please, by all means, do tell.“ One of them, not the one who was previously talking, speaks up, his words making me furrow my brows in both confusion and irritation.

I open my mouth to complain as I slowly start cracking my knuckles when Y/N and her friends beat me to it. Thing is, Y/N’s friend group consists of three guys and her and yet four voices scolded the guy that made that suggestive comment. That being said, this guy probably isn’t considered to be one of her friends, at least not one that’s a permanent part of her friend group.

“Seth, cut it out!“ The guy I was previously speaking to says sharply before softening his tone to refer to me, “Sorry about my brother, excuse his lack of brain cells, please.“

Just then, I also receive a message from someone. Checking my phone, turns out it’s Y/N who by the way is currently in the living room while I’m in the recording room. Her text reads:

Y/N ~ Ignore Seth. I told Leo to not invite him but he’s still here somehow

I send her back a quick reassuring text before answering the guy I now know is named Leo, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“See? The guy can take a joke, you’re all just freaking out over nothing!“ Seth laughs, reminding me and the others of how loud he is compared to us.

Despite acting like it’s no big deal, I can’t help but admit to myself that this behavior of Seth’s has awoken a deeply buried suspicion of mine that’s not only mine but also arises in every guy whose girlfriend hangs out with a lot of guys. It’s not that I don’t trust Y/N - she could literally blindfold me and tell me to walk through a pool of lava, promising it wouldn’t hurt and I’d do it - but we all know about that saying that every guy in a group with one girl has liked said girl at least once.

Disturbing to think these four, including Seth five, dudes could’ve possibly been my competition at some point. It’s nice that they’re all super chill about it, mostly cause some of them have girlfriends as I was told.

Nevertheless, we get over that hiccup and carry on with the small talk and preparations for the game. Since it’s my first time playing CSGO, Y/N, Leo and her other friend Clancy explain the mechanics to me in detail to avoid me getting confused mid-game and getting myself killed. When they finish, we start the round and wait for the game’s algorithm to separate us into two teams which Y/N jokingly refers to as cops and robbers. Unfortunately, the end result of that separation ends up being me getting put in the terrorists’ force with Leo and Clancy while Y/N’s with the FBI, partnered with Seth and her other friend Evan.

“Alright, team, we shall now disperse. Corpse, remember, if you see more than one of them, radio in and lay low, we’ll be with you as soon as possible.“ Leo informs me as he runs off in one direction, Clancy going in the opposite. I confirm I understand and go along my way too, heading for this ancient looking structure that looks like it could belong in an old-timey movie. 

Walking in, I realize the place is way bigger than it appeared on the outside. A quick look up confirms that there are three fucking floors above, not to mention that the ground floor is huge. Luckily, there are many crates and barrels to hide behind if I come across an FBI agent. I sure as hell hope it’s Y/N, I could maybe even try talking her into giving me a second chance at life and pretend she never saw me. Come to think of it though, I’d probably prefer getting killed by her rather than her friends - especially Seth.

Given that we’re in a Discord call, I can hear all the conversation going on. They are all quiet though, I can just periodically hear the mumbles of someone muttering to themselves as they navigate the map cautiously out of fear of running into their opponent unprepared. The silence is put to an end though when Seth speaks up, addressing Y/N.

“Yo, your boyfriend’s with the terrorists, ain’t he? That’s like the universe giving you a sign that y’all shouldn’t be together.“ The fucker laughs at his own joke while I can literally hear Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Have you heard of Romeo and Juliet, Seth?“ She asks sarcastically, almost getting a chuckle out of me but I suppress it to avoid getting caught listening in.

“Yeah, they both die at the end. Fucking boooriiinngg.“ Just then, I spot two silhouettes entering the building. Aiming my gun at them reveals their names - just the people I’m currently involuntarily eavesdropping on. Seth and Y/N don’t notice me though so I quickly duck behind a crate and prepare to radio in when Seth continues verbally torturing Y/N and dancing on my last nerves, “I personally think the friends-to-lovers trope is far more interesting...“

Did this guy just- no, he’s gotta be fucking kidding me

I’m left with my jaw hanging in disbelief at this guy’s audacity. I have no doubt Y/N’s about to put him in his place herself but I just gotta have my own chat with this guy. And by ‘chat’ I mean I mindlessly rush out from behind the crate towards where I saw him and Y/N and open fire on him.  I hear his startled and upset screams with Y/N’s laughter in the background. She doesn’t try to stop me as a teammate of his should and would, instead she just observes the scene unfold, laughing her ass off.

“Yo man what the fuck was that for?!“ I hear Seth’s yell but only faintly since the sound of gunshots is still echoing through my headphones. Yeah, I’m not done shooting this fucker.

“Corpse...Corpse, buddy...“ Y/N manages through fits of laughter she cannot tame, “That’s a few too many bullets, he’s already dead.”

“And that was a few too many comments for him to be let off the hook.” I answer as sharply as I can with the new-formed smile on my face. What can I say, her happiness is contagious.

“Well, you got your first kill in CSGO. Good job, babe! I’m super proud of you!” She cheers for me, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Nah that was my first overkill.“ I quickly add, with a more threatening tone: “And it won’t be my last.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t few too many of these overkills either.“ She snickers.

“That doesn’t depend on me, babe.“ I say smugly, suggestively enough for Seth to pick up the dropped hint. Mother fucker’s officially been put in his place and I couldn’t possibly be happier - with the added bonus of getting a ton of laughter out of Y/N who also decides to walk away, leaving me unharmed but promising to shoot to kill next time she sees me.

I’m ok with that. She could kill me anyday.

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[timelesslords]

prompts: could you write an in canon verse (so like gods and stuff are real) fic with amnesia? it could be post TLO or it could be one of them coming out of anesthesia and feeling wonky. i just love a good memory loss fic.

@halfbloodcarrie was instrumental in making this happen!!! Her adorable fluffy idea was completely paid dust in favor of making this angsty as hell but I blame her for me getting it done at all <3

read on AO3

Everything was dark. And everything hurt. His head especially was throbbing, but he couldn’t make out any other feeling. He could hear something; vague at first, just a ringing. But if he struggled, and he did, he could start to make out faint voices. His eyes refused to open, they wouldn’t even blink, but the noises were getting clearer by the second.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” a worried voice asked. Something about it felt familiar, but he couldn’t even pry his eyes open, much less figure out who it belonged to.

“He’ll wake up,” a second voice said, male this time. He sounded confident, assured. At least he thought so.

“There was so much blood, I thought… gods.”

The first voice again, though this time it wavered. It sounded scared, terrified even.

“He’ll be alright, Annabeth. He’s got a thick skull.”

That made the first voice laugh, watery as it was.

“Don’t I know it.”

Some feeling was starting to return to his limbs, slowly but surely. He tried blinking again, but it felt sluggish, slow. Suddenly he realized he could feel his arms and fingers, and there was a hand in his, gripping it so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t felt it before.

“Percy?” the female voice asked, hopeful. He groaned. His head was pounding like nothing he’d ever felt before. Actually, he wasn’t sure if that was true, because he couldn’t remember his head pounding before, ever.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember anything at all.

He blinked again, this time managing to pry his eyelids open a fraction of a degree. The light streaming in hurt like a bitch, and he groaned again, closing his eyes.

“Percy,” the first voice said again, more frantically, “Can you hear me?”

She seemed to be talking to him, though he wasn’t quite sure. He couldn’t remember his name, but she’d said Percy twice, so that had to be it, didn’t it?

He tried to say something to the girl, but it came out as a strangled groan of pain.

“Will,” she said, a little desperately.

“He’s maxed out, Annabeth, I’m sorry,” the other voice said.

The girl (Annabeth?) muttered something under her breath in-- was that Greek? And how did he know that? More determined than ever, Percy blinked again, this time managing to crack his eyelids open and keep them that way.

His vision was blurry, but a few more blinks and the vague shapes in front of him started to sharpen into focus.

“Percy?” the girl said again. Percy squinted, trying to focus on her.

The first thing he noticed was that she was-- well, pretty didn’t quite describe it. She was seriously beautiful. Her eyes were a dark grey color, currently wide with concern, her hair framing her face in cascades of golden curls. Her nose was small and button shaped, dotted with freckles.

Even if Percy didn’t currently feel like a small blacksmith’s forge was hammering on the inside of his skull, he was pretty sure he would’ve been rendered pretty speechless.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. You were out for a while,” she said, smiling. She did look relieved, but Percy didn’t miss the genuine worry behind her eyes either, the little waver along her lips trying to maintain an upbeat expression.

“I… what’s going on?” Percy asked. Annabeth bit her lip, looking over her shoulder. Percy glanced upwards, properly seeing the other person in the room for the first time. He was a teenager, with shaggy blonde hair a shade or two lighter than the girl’s. He was wearing a white lab coat over what looked to be an orange t-shirt and jeans, which didn’t exactly instill Percy with a lot of confidence in whatever medical care he was receiving.

Of course, the fact that he had no memory didn’t help matters.

“You sort of got hit in the head,” Annabeth said, wincing as she did.

“Really hard,” the boy added.

Percy reached up tentatively, to the place where it felt like his skull was splitting inside out. Instead of skin he felt something else, some thick sort of fabric.

“Ow,” he said, a little unhelpfully. The girl smiled again-- crap, how was she even more beautiful when she smiled?-- but it still had an edge of sadness to it.

“Yeah. Discus accident,” she said.

“Discus accident?” Percy asked, confused.

“Yeah. Those stone frisbee things, remember?” the other guy said.

“No,” Percy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. It made his head throb, but he couldn’t stand lying down anymore. “I don’t-- I don’t remember anything.”

“You mean-- you mean you don’t remember the accident,” Annabeth said, a little forcefully. Her grey eyes flashed, and Percy didn’t quite recognize the expression, but something in his gut told him it was not good.

“No, I mean I don’t remember anything,” Percy repeated, figuring it was best to get it out of the way sooner or later, “I don’t know where I am or who you are or who I am.”

The girl took one very long look at him. He didn’t know what exactly he had said in particular that had triggered something in her, but the concern fell from her face in an instant. She dropped his hand, something sharp overtaking her expression.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she said. Her voice was a little thick, but Percy couldn’t tell if she was crying, because in the next second she stood and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Inadvertently, Percy felt a twinge of something sad in his chest, though he couldn’t quite place why. He didn’t know Annabeth, but she clearly seemed to know him, and what he’d said had clearly set her off.

All of this was really not improving his headache, which had resumed its throbbing with reckless abandon.

“I didn’t mean to…” Percy trailed off. To what? Upset her? Make her run away? But all he’d done was tell the honest truth-- he couldn’t remember shit. The guy was giving him a look that was bordering on disgust.

“Dude, that’s really not funny,” he said. He sounded pissed, though if Percy wasn’t entirely mistaken, there was a hint of fear behind his bright blue eyes.

“I’m not trying to be funny, I literally don’t know what’s going on,” Percy said, starting to feel a little frantic. Why was everyone here acting like they knew him? And why did he not even know him? He felt nerves and something else tugging in his gut, an insistent, terrifying pull--

Without warning, the glass next to his bed shattered, spraying water and glass everywhere. Percy flinched away from the table, whirling around to look at the boy. His eyes were wide and surprised.

“What the fuck was that?” Percy asked, alarmed.

“That was… you,” the boy said, staring at Percy like he had just grown a second head, “Styx, you’re not making this up, are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know what’s going on for you to believe me?” Percy said, still staring wide-eyed at the place where the cup had shattered. For his own sanity, he decided to ignore the boy’s declaration that he had caused it.

“Four, apparently,” the boy said, rubbing his forehead like he could feel a headache coming on, “Unless you want to make it five for good measure?”

“I have absolutely no memory,” Percy repeated.

“Great. This is just-- this is awesome,” the boy said, sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I’m having so much fun over here,” Percy said dryly.

“Right, sorry,” the boy said, wincing, “Your name is Percy.”

So Percy had guessed that correctly. Good to know.

“My name is Will,” the boy continued, oblivious to Percy’s thoughts, “The girl was--”

“Annabeth,” Percy finished. Will perked up, hopeful, but Percy shook his head.

“I heard you say her name,” Percy explained. Will deflated.

“Oh, right,” he said. He sounded inordinately disappointed, way more disappointed than he’d been when Percy hadn’t remembered him.

“How exactly did this happen?” Percy asked, doing his best not to rub his forehead again. Will sighed.

“Some newbies were messing around with the discuses on the strawberry fields-- which is stupidly dangerous, by the way, we have an arena for a reason-- but it went a little off course and almost hit Annabeth in the face. You shoved her out of the way but it clipped your forehead pretty good.”

Percy tried to process all that, piece by piece. He didn’t know what a newbie was, and apparently wherever this place was had strawberry fields that he and Annabeth had been in together? But the strangest thing of all was that Percy didn’t feel at all surprised that he’d gotten injured trying to get Annabeth out of the way. That piece felt strangely right to him, even if everything else was messy and confusing.

“So me and Annabeth are friends, then?” he asked. Will gave him a strange look, his face paling slightly.

“You guys… you’re close. Really close.”

Percy nodded. That made sense. He didn’t know why Will was being weird about it, but he believed him regardless.

“She was mad at me,” Percy noted. At this, Will winced.

“Yeah. Memory loss… it's kind of a sore subject for her.”

“Why?” Percy asked. Maybe it was a little invasive, but this was all stuff he was supposed to know anyway, wasn’t it?

Will sighed, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Gods, I’m so not the person to be explaining this to you,” he said, “But a few years ago you sort of… disappeared. And you lost all your memories. Except you remembered her. But it was really, really tough on her, she had no idea if you were gonna know anything or not when she found you.”

Percy blinked, trying to take all that in. He had a feeling that was the hyper-condensed version of what had gone down, but it explained the situation well enough. Annabeth hadn’t considered the fact that he genuinely wouldn’t remember her, so she’d assumed it was a bad joke. Percy wished it was a bad joke, because he would give absolutely anything to remember more about her.

“Got it,” Percy said, trying not to frown, “So how did I get my memories back last time? Can we do that again?”

Will grimaced.

“I think last time you drank gorgon’s blood, but we’re fresh out of that.”

Percy stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. He looked serious, but Percy didn’t want to press it. Clearly last time had been a different sort of deal.

“So what do we do? I can’t go around like this forever.”

“Well, hopefully it's just temporary. Your head injury, plus the mortal pain meds we gave you, plus the nectar--”

“The what?” Percy asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said, a little hurriedly. “The point is, your brain is processing a lot of stuff right now. My best guess is that it overloaded a bit, and the amnesia is a side effect. If that’s the case it should go away on its own eventually.”

“And if it’s not the case?” Percy asked, dreading the answer a little. As predicted, WIll grimaced again.

“It could be from the initial injury. In which case it would be… more permanent.”

Percy’s mouth went a little dry.

“Goodie.”

“It probably isn’t,” Will said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“So what do we do?” Percy asked again.

“You could try going to sleep. It might give your brain a chance to readjust, chill out a little. Or…”

Will trailed off, clearly unwilling to finish his thought.

“Or?” Percy prompted.

“Or we could try to jog your memory with stuff you might remember,” Will finished. Percy didn’t understand why this option seemed to be so unpleasant to Will, since it made the most sense to him. He felt disoriented as hell, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to calm his mind down enough to sleep anytime soon. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d been unconscious for a good long while.

“How long was I asleep just now?” Percy asked.

“A while,” Will admitted.

“So let’s try the other thing.”

Will swallowed heavily, his fingers gripping the sides of his white coat a little too tightly.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said, still not sounding happy about it at all, “I’ll-- ugh. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Percy did not move, mostly because he didn’t think he could get up from his bed if he tried. Being alone gave him the chance to observe the room he was in a little bit. It was small but clean, sort of a cross between a normal bedroom and a hospital unit. The walls were made of old looking hardwood, and if he craned his head back a little bit he could almost see out the window. It looked green out there, but it was kind of hard to tell.

Nothing about this place felt familiar, but that didn’t mean much, given nothing Percy had experienced since waking up felt familiar.

Nothing except for those few flashes of feeling he’d gotten about Annabeth, anyway.

Will was gone for a long time, a lot longer than Percy had been expecting. He couldn’t tell time very well and he didn’t see a clock anywhere, but it felt like Will had to have been gone at least half an hour, maybe more. Just when Percy was about to give up and try taking a nap, the door opened again. Will was there, but this time Annabeth was in tow too.

Percy tried not to read too hard into the fact that she didn’t look happy to be there. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, though now they were narrowed in barely constrained anger, her arms folded over her chest.

Will, for his part, looked extremely nervous. That didn’t give Percy a lot of hope about how this was going to go.

“It would probably work better if you could get up and walk around, but well…” he trailed off, but Percy knew exactly why that wasn’t possible. Just keeping his eyes open had been a struggle, and he was pretty sure if he tried to stand right now he was gonna black out.

“Yeah, sounds like a bad idea,” he agreed. Annabeth said nothing, just kept staring with her jaw clenched tight.

“I figured-- you know, you remembered Annabeth last time,” Will said, still sounding nervous, “And you guys have known each other for years, so if anything is going to jog your memory… well.”

“Okay,” Percy said, easily.

Annabeth remained silent.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Will said, looking like he absolutely couldn’t wait to get out of the room. He did a second later, slipping out the door and shutting it behind him.

Annabeth looked extraordinarily unhappy to be there. Any care that she had displayed for him when he first woke up was apparently gone. She said nothing as she looked at him with nothing but ice in her eyes.

He didn’t know why exactly she was so pissed-- it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember anything, and wouldn’t it be worse for him anyway? But she didn’t seem keen on speaking to him anytime soon, and Percy figured it was up to him to break the ice.

“So, um. Are you single?” Percy asked. It was dumb, sure, but he didn’t remember shit, and this girl was pretty and she seemed to care about him and well? Might as well shoot his shot.

Annabeth muttered something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like I’m going to kill you. Cool. Definitely did not make her hotter to him, not even a little bit.

“I’m not single,” she said, practically glaring at him.

“Got it. Sorry,” Percy said. For just a second her eyes ducked away, sadness replacing anger. But then she looked back up, and her previous expression was reinstated.

“Why don’t we just stick to you,” she said.

“Sure,” Percy said. He didn't want to make her mad again, because he had a feeling if that kept happening it would not end well for him. He wasn’t sure what could be worse than complete and total amnesia, but looking at Annabeth he was pretty sure she could think of something.

She took a deep breath, a little unsteadily.

“Your name is Percy,” she said, “I guess Will already told you that, though.”

Percy nodded. She moistened her lips, staring down at the ground.

“Okay. What else do you want to know?”

“Where are we?” Percy asked. It wasn’t his most urgent question, but it felt like a safer one to ask. Then again, from the look on Annabeth’s face, maybe that was a miscalculation. She was biting her lip, the anger in her expression softening slightly. It seemed to be replaced by something sad though, and Percy found he almost preferred the anger.

“It’s… a little hard to explain. But we’re at a camp. A summer camp. It’s-- it’s where we met.”

“Why are we here now?” Percy asked. Annabeth shrugged.

“We’re just visiting,” she said.

“Together?” Percy asked. She stared at him, swallowing heavily.

“Yeah. Together,” she said, though she was clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Okay then. Time for a new line of questioning. A safer line, one that hopefully wouldn’t put her on the verge of tears.

“What’s my favorite color?” he asked.

“Blue,” she said, instantly.

“Favorite food?”

“Anything blue,” she said, just as fast.

“I eat blue food?” Percy asked, confused. She smiled for the first time since he’d told her his memory was gone. It was small, but it still made his heart flutter.

“Yeah. It’s sort of an inside joke with you and your mom,” she said. The smile faded just as fast as it had come, but her answer had inadvertently given Percy more information than he’d expected.

“So I’m close to my mom?” Percy asked, unable to help it. Annabeth nodded again. She took a tentative step forward, sitting back down on the chair beside his bed.

“Who else?” he asked, without thinking. Annabeth frowned, a little confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean--” Percy started, realizing this might be a little too much too soon, but wanting to know so badly he couldn’t help but ask anyway, “I mean, who else am I close to?”

Annabeth didn’t answer for a long minute. She was looking down at the ground again, her hands gripping her own shoulders, arms shielding her chest. She seemed to be contemplating something, though what it was, Percy wasn’t sure.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that question. Maybe it was too personal-- with a start Percy realized that Annabeth was probably a pretty high priority for him, given the scant details he knew about their relationship, and him not knowing that intrinsically had to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Just forget it, tell me something else.”

She finally looked back up at him, though she still seemed upset and unsure.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, though she was clearly forcing her voice not to waver, “Like I said, you’re close to your mom, her name is Sally. You have a sister named Estelle and a brother named Tyson. And your best friend is--” she stumbled, but found herself again, “His name is Grover.”

Percy noticed that Annabeth’s own name was conspicuously absent from that list. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, all things considered, but his curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to know this more than anything.

“What about you?” he asked, voice quiet.

It took her less time to answer than he expected, but she was still quiet for a minute.

“You asked me if I was single,” she said finally, eyes ducked down, a rosy blush growing in her cheeks, “And I said no because-- because we’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh,” Percy said. He could feel his own face getting red, even though this was kind of great news-- or maybe not so great news, considering his stupid brain still couldn’t remember shit. But it still felt right, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Of course he was dating her. That was just correct, an inalienable fact he felt dumb for not knowing, despite not knowing anything at all.

“Yeah,” she said, “But you don’t remember, so… so I don’t know anymore, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, and he felt it. He felt like an idiot, both for trying to flirt with her earlier, and for not putting the pieces together sooner. The hand holding probably should have given it away, at the very least.

To his surprise, Annabeth gave him a small smile, even though her eyes were a little red. She wiped them on her sleeve, clearly trying not to do it in an obvious way.

“Sorry, it’s just-- that’s so you,” she said, sniffling a little.

“What’s so me?” Percy asked. He felt stupid, oblivious, but she just smiled again, a touch wider this time.

“Apologizing for something that isn’t even your fault.”

“I really am sorry,” Percy said, and he felt worse with every word, “I want to remember, I do, it’s just-- all of it’s gone.”

“I know,” she said. She sounded defeated. “I guess it would be too much to ask for you to remember me twice, huh?”

She said it like a joke, but Percy could feel the real pain behind her words. He felt an ache in his chest, like a phantom pain he couldn’t quite place, something in him mirroring her own hurt. He wanted so badly to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.

Or maybe he did. His brain was a jumbled mess, but he did know the only things that had made him feel anything since he’d woken up had to do with her.

“I… I almost get flashes,” he admitted, glancing up at her again. She wasn’t quite meeting his eye, looking somewhere over his shoulder, but he continued anyway. “When you say or do things… It’s like my body knows what to feel but my mind doesn’t know why.”

She glanced up, her eyes finally meeting his own. They were still shining with tears, though not as intensely as before.

“Like how?” she asked, simply. Percy swallowed heavily, not exactly sure what to say. It was hard to describe, given he’d barely recognized his own feelings.

“Like… like when you left, before. I was upset but I didn’t know why. I didn’t know you but I knew… I knew that was supposed to hurt, somehow. And when Will told me about how I got hurt in the first place, how I was trying to keep the frisbee thing from hitting you-- that felt right, but I don’t know why.”

She had graduated to crying in earnest now, tears slipping out of the corner of her eyes and falling down her cheeks. Percy felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and brush them away, but he knew he couldn’t. And that hurt too for some reason, a hollow aching in his chest he couldn’t quite place even though the reason for it was standing right in front of him.

“And right now,” Percy continued, even though maybe he shouldn’t, “You’re upset and I just feel this urge to do something, and I can’t because I don’t know how.”

“Percy, please--” she said, still crying, her voice rough with tears. He didn’t know what she was begging for, but he couldn’t help his next words slipping out, like his tongue knew more what to do than his mind.

“I don’t know anything about me, but I know-- I know I love you. I can feel it. I’m not just saying it either, I swear I can feel it.”

“Percy,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper this time.

“You have to help me, Annabeth. I don’t know what to do,” he said, and this time it was his turn for his voice to get thick, a lump in his throat obscuring his words.

“I--” she started, swallowing heavily, eyes welling with tears again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes you do,” Percy said, and he was sure she did, something in him just knew, “You always do, don’t you?”

That felt right too, even if he couldn’t place why, but it seemed to mean more to her than to him. She stared at him, eyes wide and scared. She was so close now, close enough that he could see every freckle on her nose.

Annabeth looked so panicked that for a second a second, Percy thought she was going to hit him, but then she did the opposite. She leaned over and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and she tasted like strawberries and salt. His lips seemed to know exactly what to do, moving against hers like they’d kiss her a thousand times-- and maybe they had. His hand moved, almost of its own accord to her hair, tangling in it, pulling her a fraction of an inch closer--

And then it hit him. The scent of her shampoo, lemony and sharp and familiar.

He gasped, not meaning to, but she pulled back, grey eyes wide.

“Percy?” she asked, hopeful even as she tried to hide it.

“Annabeth,” he said, trying not to panic as things started to float through his mind-- more than things, memories. Her face and her voice and her words, the feeling of her hand in his and her smile against his lips, it all started to flood back like it had never left.

“Are you--” she asked, her hands on his shoulders, gripping tight, too tight, but he didn’t even care.

“Annabeth,” he breathed, saying her name like a revelation, because it was, “You’re Annabeth Chase, you’re my girlfriend and an architect and you’re scared to death of spiders and you still sleep with a teddy bear--”

She cut him off at that last point, throwing her arms around him and hugging him harder than she ever had-- except for maybe that time she’d thought he was dead for two weeks and he’d crashed his own funeral. Percy hugged her back just as hard, because he actually remembered that.

It hadn’t all come back-- things were blurry, most things, actually. But Annabeth at least felt clear in his mind, a shining beacon welcoming the rest of his memories back. He was already starting to get a headache again, but he didn’t care. They would come back. And even if they didn’t-- he had her. That was enough.

She pulled back from her bone crushing embrace, keeping their faces so close their noses were almost touching. She seemed scared that if she pulled away he might too, even though he had no intention of doing so, physically or mentally.

“So you’re back? Really?” she asked, sounding scared to know the answer.

“Sort of,” Percy confirmed, wincing as he did. He really was starting to get a pounding headache. “I remember you. And bits and pieces of other things, but mostly you.”

Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes for a long moment.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered, her hands trailing up his neck, just barely scraping his hair.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he breathed. And he did know, now better than ever. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he’d woken up without his memory, but he knew every minute of it had to have been hell for her.

Annabeth sighed, pulling back further, so he could see her whole face. Her eyes were still red from crying, and her cheeks were still flushed from their kiss. But he could see the barest traces of humor in her expression, a slight tug at the corner of her mouth where a smile was being repressed.

“What?” he asked, but she just shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” she said, but her smile had grown.

“Come on, I just had amnesia. You have to tell me.”

She laughed, a light tinkling sound. It was just on the edge of being hysterical, but she deserved it, after the day she’d been having.

“Fine. I was just thinking-- Hera couldn’t make you forget me but a glorified frisbee could?” Annabeth said.

“Hey, it was heavy!” Percy protested, but he couldn’t help but grin as he did. He would probably stay grinning for the rest of his life, actually.

“You’re such an idiot,” she breathed, pulling him into a hug again, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Percy said, hugging her back. And now he knew he did, in a permanent, tangible way.

There was still a lot missing, but he had the most important bits down. His name was Percy Jackson. He was twenty years old, and in college and a demigod, and lots of other things that would surely return with time.

And he loved Annabeth Chase more than anything in the world.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Draco Malfoy and the Parent Trap (headcanons)

Request: hc for scorpius trying to get his father back together with his dada teacher a while after his mother passing because he wanted his father to be happy and he found out reader used to be his school sweetheart before things got in their way? - anon

A/N: This is a fairly long headcanon and for that, I apologise! I had so much fun with this though! I’ve split this into sections like how I would a full length fic otherwise it’s too hard to follow, in my opinion.

Warnings: female reader, mischief and mishaps, kissing, fluff, humour, mentions of death, past relationships.

Scorpius Malfoy loved his mother; he adored his mother, but even he could no longer deny that she was not coming back. 

Astoria Malfoy had died, and she was not coming back. 

It had been years since her passing and whilst Scorpius missed her every single day, he could not ignore the fact that his father needed to meet someone new. 

-------

Draco Malfoy adored his wife; he would give up his soul to have her back in his arms where he could love her as wholly as he had when she was alive. If he had possession of the resurrection stone, he knew who he would bring back, he didn't care whether it would change her - he would have her back. 

However, Draco Malfoy was lonely. He missed his wife, but he also missed the companionship of a relationship. He missed going to bed and having someone there when he woke up wishing him a good morning. 

He yearned to have someone to hold; someone to love; someone to care for. 

Draco Malfoy simply wanted someone.

-------

Scorpius didn't really have a favourite class; he enjoyed them all as he loved learning, but he found himself drawn to Defence Against the Dark Arts when you took over as Professor, breathing new life into the subject.

“Scorpius!” You call, smiling widely as the blonde ambles over to you. “Well done! I haven't seen spell casting like that since I last saw your father.”

“You knew my father?” Scorpius asks you, shocked at the admission.

“We were very close for a time,” You admit, feeling your face flush as the teenager looks on confused, “But we drifted apart.”

“What was he like back then?” Scorpius asks before he can help himself, “Dad doesn't speak a lot about his time at Hogwarts; he says his life began when he met my mother.”

You laugh, pressing a hand to your chest. “I understand why he would say that; he always was the romantic. I was sorry to hear of her passing; I remember when she attended Hogwarts.”

“Thank you,” Scorpius whispers quietly; a new wave grief washing over him as he meets another person who0 had known his mother. 

“You’re the spitting image of your father. How is he?” You ask, needing to know.

“He’s okay. He’s lonely,” Scorpius admits, “He misses my mother.”

“As he should,” You state, nodding solemnly. “He always was serious. Even in school; I could very rarely get him to take a night off and have some fun.”

Scorpius smiles at the image conjured in his mind; the teenaged version of his father causing mayhem around the castle - it just didn't seem true. Scorpius sighs when he glances at the clock. “I’ll see you next time, Professor.”

“Bye, young Malfoy,” You laugh, thinking back to a time when a blonde haired teenager had been the centre of your universe.

------

Scorpius brings up the subject at lunch, asking Albus and Rose whether they knew anything of it.

Albus shrugs, sipping at his water before shaking his head. Rose frowns, tapping her chin with her finger. “I remember hearing my parents talk about it,” She murmurs, seeming far off as if in a distant memory.

“What did they say?” Scorpius all but demands, perching on the edge of his seat.

Rose’s eyes brighten as the conversation comes back to her. “I remember!” She all but cries, “They were discussing Professor (Y/L/N)’s appointment as our professor - they knew her at Hogwarts, you see.”

“Anything else?” Scorpius presses, already aware of such knowledge.

“My dad spoke about how he could never believe that someone like Professor (Y/L/N) would date your dad.”

“WHAT?” Scorpius shouts; not out of the slight insult to his father, but the fact that his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher used to date his father and neither said a word about it. “They dated?!”

Rose shrugs, reaching for her drink. “They must have if my parents were talking about it. I don't know how long for, but both my parents said it was the nicest they had seen your father act.”

Scorpius frowns at Rose’s words but does not comment; instead, he wonders about his father, overworking himself at St Mungo’s so he doesn't have to come home to an empty house. 

“Scorp,” Albus sings, interrupting Scorpius’ worrying, “I have an idea.”

“What is that?” Scorpius asks warily; these ideas never ended well. 

“You were talking about wanting your father to find love again... and here you are being educated by on elf his exes.”

“Okay?”

“Set them up you fool!”

“Oh!” Scorpius gasps, seeing the plan fall into place right before his eyes.

“Alright,” He concedes, “But I’ll need your help.” 

-----

The plan gets put into motion the following week.

Scorpius approaches you at the end of Thursday’s lesson, a sheepish look on his face.

“You know your father had the same expression when he messed up,” You snort, “What did you do?”

“It’s not so much what I did, but what my father would like to hear.”

“Pardon?”

“My father wrote to me yesterday asking if he could have an early report of my progress in school. Since you already know him, I thought - if you don't mind, that is - you would write to him first, update him on DADA?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course, Scorpius. I’ll write a report his evening and send it with the owls tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you!” Scorpius exclaims; eyes wide with happiness as the first stage of the plan falls into place. 

-----

Stage One: set up communication.

Draco had never sent his son a letter asking for his progress so far; Draco never rushed for academic excellence, he was simply happy with Scorpius’ best. 

However, the report would hopefully open up a line of communication between the exes which would in turn lead to something more.

-------

Owl Post arrives only once a day so it isn't until Saturday that Scorpius hears back from his father. 

He opens his letter with barely restrained glee; Albus and Rose watching on curiously. 

Inside the weighty envelope, Scorpius finds your progress report of his work in DADA but also an attached note from his father:

“Scorpius, you do not need to feel pressured to send me reports. I know you’ll try your best in every subject. You will do well with (Y/N) teaching you. She was a genius at this subject when I was at school.”

Scorpius freezes for a moment; running a finger over his father’s handwriting as he is hit with a keen sense of absence. He didn't get homesick often, but right now, he misses his father more than words could say. 

Albus reads over the letter, Rose follows. The three sit in silence as they think of their next move. Rose comes up with the idea.

“Your dad needs to reply to Professor (Y/L/N). It would look rude if he did not.”

Scorpius nods; reaching into his bag for a piece of parchment and his quill. He scrawls a quick reply to his father:

“Dad, I just thought you would appreciate the update. I hope you replied to Professor (Y/L/N), it would be rude to not have given that she took the time to write to you.”

His reply is sent in the afternoon when he treks up the Owlery, feeds a postal owl before offering up his letter to be returned to Draco. Scorpius had even tucked Professor (Y/L/N)’s original letter in the envelope so his father did not forget what she had written.

As Scorpius watches the owl fly away, he wonders whether this plan will ever work.

-----

Time passes and Scorpius begins to wonder whether the plan is working.

He watches you in lessons; notices that you seem a little brighter, that there is a little glow about you when you smile.

And Scorpius cannot help but wonder whether his father did reply and that the both of you were keeping in touch.

The hope that unfurls in his chest at the thought if his father happy again is what makes him pray to Merlin for it all to work out.

-----

It’s a Friday afternoon, weeks into the plan, when you approach Scorpius.

“Scorpius, may I talk to you for a moment?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“I’m not sure if your father had made you aware or whether he was keeping it a surprise, but he’s coming to the school tomorrow.”

Scorpius’ face goes slack at your words. 

Draco had never come to the school; had not wanted to come after the second wizarding war and for good reason too. For Draco to be stepping foot back into the place he so strongly thinks hates him, there must be a powerful reason.

“Why?” is all Scorpius asks.

You fiddle with your fingers before replying. “He sent me a letter letting me know he would be coming to see you, but to also catch up with me. You don’t mind, do you? I know this could be strange for you. I’ll happily cancel if you want to spend the whole day with your father.”

The hope that had been hiding away just behind his heart begins to bloom in his chest as he takes in the hopeful expression on your face. It's then that Scorpius realises that you don't want to cancel on his father, but you would for him. It’s then that Scorpius realises that his father might just be ready for moving on.

“I don't mind at all,” He answers, finding his words truthful. “You and my father have a lot to catch up on.”

“That we do,” You laugh before smiling genuinely at the teenager, “Thank you, Scorpius.”

Scorpius smiles; grabbing his belongings and making his way out of the classroom. Stage two of the plan had begun with Scorpius even realising.

He knows exactly what he needs to do tomorrow.

-----

Scorpius barely sleeps all night for thinking of it.

He’s up with the sun and the first to breakfast as he waits for his father's arrival.

He remains sitting in the Great Hall when he begins to wonder just exactly where his father is. It was long past the time of his arrival.

It’s then that Scorpius decides to wander to the DADA classroom.

He finds Draco there in quiet conversation with you; sitting close together on the desks, hands so close touching that it almost pains Scorpius to look. 

He realises then how well you fit together; how you both balance each other out when you snort at something Draco says, reaching out to show his shoulder playfully. Scorpius cannot remember a time when he saw his father have fun; have a joke with someone.

Heads bent close together, Scorpius catches the glimpse of an indulgent smile on his father’s face and it's then that Scorpius knows that his father has found another person to love. 

Scorpius thought it would hurt, to see his father with another, but it doesn't. Instead, Scorpius feels relief that his father might not be so alone forever. 

An idea pops into Scorpius’ mind. 

Gathering his courage, Scorpius reaches for the door handle, and slams the door shut loudly. 

He covers his mouth to quash the laughter that bubbles at the sound of your surprised yelp. 

He quickly casts a locking charm on the door, remembering an advanced one taught to him by Rose whose mother had taught it to her. 

“Let us out!” You yell, shaking the door handle and banging on the door.

“Not yet!” He shouts back with a smile.

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” Draco shouts, “Let us out right now!”

“Not until you get your act together!”

“What?”

“You can't come out until you admit your feelings!”

And with that, the voices on the other side of the door fall silent and Scorpius sits himself across the corridor from the entrance to the classroom. 

-----

Draco shakes his head at the audacity of his son. 

You press a hand to your mouth to stop the laughter from leaving. 

“It’s not funny!” Draco laments.

“It kinda is,” You admit, “Your son could see something neither of us could.”

“What?”

“Draco, you would have to be half blind to not see my feelings for you.”

“What?” The blonde repeats, once again struck dumb. 

You shrug, “We’ve been talking for a while and I thought there was something there. At least, there is something there on my end.”

“It’s been so long,” He whispers, closing his eyes against the wave of emotions washing over him.

Draco feels nothing but conflict; he can no longer ignore the rising affection he has for you, but with every sting of it, he’s reminded of Astoria. 

“I’m not asking to replace her,” You whisper, drawing your hands up to your chest as if protecting the already breaking heart. “I know I could never do that.”

Opening his eyes, Draco sees the stricken expression on your face and hates that he’s the cause for it. “I miss having someone there,” He admits quietly, “I miss having someone.”

“I could be that someone,” You state.

“I want you to be that someone,” Draco admits, pulling your hands from your chest, holding them gently in his own. “I want you.”

A watery smile breaks across your face as Draco drops on elf your hands to caress your cheek. “A new chapter,” You whisper, leaning into his touch.

“A new chapter,” Draco promises, ducking his head to kiss you.

------

Scorpius Malfoy misses his mother every day. He knows that she will always be with him, but he misses her nonetheless.

However, he cannot ignore how happy he is for his father to have found someone to love again. 

****

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @oopskashish @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @sexysirius @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​ @belladaises​

[luvsicksubs]

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

heat - kyotani kentarou

warnings: pegging, reader is so goddamn mean, making fun of maddog for being maddog, brat!kyo </3, fem!reader

this is based off that one post

a/n: hello! this scene is pretty intense at some parts and can read as dubcon (brat-taming has a tendency for that but it’s all consensual between these two)  so im gonna put the warning

also, when practicing bdsm - please practice being safe, sane and consensual . make sure you have a system for you and your partner to communicate your headspace during the scene. don’t be afraid to safeword, dom or sub and practice good communication.

this fic has reader use the greenlight system, a common safeword system in bdsm. green for go, yellow for slow down, and red for hard stop.

i’ve included a little scene of aftercare for context of the reader and kyo’s relationship and for everyone to have a peace of mind. take care of your sub boys and take care of your doms <3

“C’mon, Kyo - why don’t you fuckin give it up already?,”

You slam your hips forward, forcing Kyoutani forward on his elbows and knees. His hole clenches so tightly it’s hard to move, yet your pace remains relentless. You checked in just before, that he wants this despite himself but you can’t deny how fun this is to tease him.

“Fuck off,” he barks through gritted teeth. You laugh, tone incredibly arrogant as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. You angle your hips, wrapping one around his cock and toying with the ring as you set a pace before simple wrapping your first around it. He groans, his voice coming out in sporadic grunts and broken moans.

You’e waiting on it - the moment Kyotani simply breaks out of his facade and admits to himself how much he likes all this. All signs point to yes, but your Kyo is nothing if not a fighter. He grits his teeth so hard he feel like he might break his jaw, thinking for a second you’re showing him mercy. Instead, your using your hands to spread his ass apart before giving deep and long strokes. The angle upward presses right against his prostate and oh fuck - his elbows give out from pleasure. His face is buried in your sheets, hands clutching at something.

“Color?,”

“Green,”

He’s so weak right now, you manage to keep both of his arms behind him as you continue your maddening pace. The pressure in his stomach is only building and he needs to cum so bad. He won’t like this.

“Your ass is so fucking tight baby,” you say giving it a harsh hit. The stinging makes him bite his lip as desire floods him

“Your cock is practically fucking drooling all over my hands,” you make note of as you jerk him off at an equally slow pace. He swears in strings under his breath, unable to keep his composure. ‘

“How fucking filthy are you, Kyo? You’re rock hard cause you’ve got your girlfriend fucking you like some cheap broad - and you’re loving every second of it,”

“Fuck you,”

“Dunno, Mad-Dog - the way you’re sucking me up right now tells me you’re liking this a hell of a lot more,”

“Shit, no way - I’m not liking this,”

“Tell me to stop then why don’t you? If you hate it so much, you know I’d never make you. You asked me, remember? Asked me to fuck this tight little thing and make you cum untouched like the bitch in heat that you are,”

“Shut up, fuck,” pleasure courses through him at hearing your gruff words.  You always treat him so sweetly but it’s making him dizzy to hear you like this. So fucking mocking, and disrespectful as you pound him so hard and so good the back of his thighs are stinging.

His cock is so angry and aching. Everything in him is burning dizzy with the feeling of your cock stretching him out and filling his stomach. It feels like you’re in his spine with the way your angled. He needs to cum. He needs to cum so hard against your hand and make a mess and then he needs to do it a hundred times over to get some relief.

“Come on love. It’s just me and you here. I’m the only one whose gonna fill you up like this so don’t go worrying about it - your boys aint gonna hear it from me,” you say cheekily.

Kyotani is trying so hard to hold it in. Some kind of involuntary reaction washes over him painfully and he can feel nothing coming out but that familiar feeling. Holy shit - he thought that only happened in porn.

“Can’t help but be curious about your boys might think if they knew their mad-dog was some bitch. See you get so riled up and whiny over dick like you’re a dumb slut just might make ‘em laugh,”

His dick twitches mindlessly again, how fucking embarrassing. You whistle under your breath and Kyotani feels his soul leave his body.

You pick your pace again, making his stomach lay flat on the bed as you press on the lower parts of his spine and fuck some sense into him for the last time.  Sweat is beading down his forehead in concentration You lean down, licking the shell of his ear before whining.

“Gonna milk that pretty cock of yours dry tonight no matter what it takes Kyo,” you say, pressing even harder on his back. He cries out, unable to escape the feeling.

“Admit to me you like it and I’ll reward you by touching you - if not, I’ll make sure and find some other ways. Mmkay?,”

“Fuck, fuck - yes, it feels so good. Feels so fucking good when you fuck me with your cock now please, please touch me. Please make me cum before I lose my mind,” he babbles, his voice thoroughly wrecked. Your core burns with desire as you laugh.

“Got it, baby. Flip over me,”

And he does, laying on his back, you make him hold his legs up and fuck the daylight out of him, spitting in your hands and sliding it over his dick with ease. Now everything happens quickly, so quickly Kyotani barely has sight of you. When you lean over him, he wraps his arms around your neck and moans brokenly through his orgasm. Drool is dry on the corner of his lips and his face is entirely crimson. So fucked out he can barely meet your eyes.

“God, nggh, shit - it’s,”

He shoots hot white so far that hits your chest and drips on his. He almost yells, vision going bleary for a few seconds too long as you guide him through his orgasm.

He returns to his senses in a few troubling moments. As soon as he feels you pull out, he shudders at the emptiness and drags your frame over him. He’s clingy after sex always, but especially at times like this.

“You okay?,”

“Hn,”

_

[aftercare]

Kyotanis heartbeat is slow. After he came, you showered together and chatted softly about nothing. He washed your hair and clung close the whole time, clearly exhausted. Thoroughly tuckered out, he now is laying in your side. Face buried in your neck. It’s this part that’s still hard for Kyotani, that you love him so much to still stay after all the sex. It feels so goo to be here like this, he almost wants to run away. It’s terrifying to wear his hear on his sleeve.

But you make it so easy. You make it all better, and he does the same for you by trusting you. To love, and be loved.

“How was it, baby? Did I do okay?,”

He sighs, nodding.

“You always do fuckin’ great,” he says with no malice. Strong arms are secured around your middle, a sign you aren’t going anywhere tonight and you laugh.

“Nothing was too much, right? The boys comment i was worried about,”

He moves to look up at you, shaking his head. He grins wickedly, pinching your sides.

“I know you’d never really do that, too soft - but it was hot when you threatened me,”

You giggle at that, and his smile becomes genuine as it settles into your sides. You run your hands along the prickly hairs on his head, humming.

“You did really good too baby. I’m so proud of you,”

He doesn’t respond to that, just huffs and tightens his grip. He knows you mean it, so no words are exchanged for a while.

“Did you cum?,”

You’re surprised by the sudden question and prying eyes. It’s small but it’s how you know he cares.

“Not yet. I was gonna take care of it later since you seemed -”

He immediately scoots himself between your thighs, resting his cheek on your bare thigh and looking at you with another wild smile.

“Can I have my reward then?,”

You smile at him. Still your good boy then, asking for permission. He seems exhausted but he still wants to take care of you and you’re inclined to let him. You nod, yawning a little as you pull your panties to the side.

“Eat up, baby,” you add slickly. He mumbles a heavy thanks before doing just as you ask.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

[willwriteforhugs]

how stray kids asks you out <3

skz scenario - all members (individually) x reader

genre: fluff, dating au, angst if you close your left eye

word count: 1.6k (total)

warnings: some cursing, but nothing else :)

a/n: hello, lovelies!! this is my very first (posted) stray kids fic- i hope you all enjoy. it’s nothing major, but i really had fun writing it. if you’ve found me on the explore page, hello! i’m a hot mess. pls validate me by reading what i write.

just kidding.

maybe.

ANYWAYS- please keep in mind that this is written in a totally lighthearted way, and this is 100% fictitious. this is for entertainment purposes only. thank you for reading!

chan: 

he is actually so shy about it :’(

but he knows he’s gonna go through with it

cause that’s the kind of person he is

he just wants his emotions to be out in the open

whether the feeling is mutual or not

so he just improvises 

he approaches you with completely no context? like he just walks up and starts a convo but you can’t tell why

you think he’s just. being chan

but no

he’s pretty chill, actually

his face is so tho red but he doesn’t know that so don’t say anything

a few minutes in he kinda just snaps because he just couldn’t wait

“y/n-ah, do you wanna- i don’t know, get together sometime? are you free?”

this takes you off guard completely

he misunderstands your reaction *screams*

and he immediately regrets saying anything

but you scramble to reassure him 

when you say you’d like to get together, he loses all humility

becomes a total flirt

this flusters you but the two of you have such CHEMISTRY 

“so it’s a date?”

“it’s a date.”

minho:

is the type to completely deny his own feelings until the very last minute

plus, tbh

he probably thinks you hate him

so he has a hard time convincing himself to finally ask you out

but when he does...

he just bites the bullet (lmao pray for him)

walks RIGHT THE FUCK UP TO YOU

“y/n.”

when you respond he just kinda:

“will you go out with me?”

you also probably thinks he hates you too (go communication!!)

so you’re just like *surprised pikachu face*

but he just stands there and waits for your response

he’s sweating on the DL

but you kinda just go with it and say yes

he’s hella surprised but doesn’t wanna show his excitement

so he just smirks and is like

“okay. what would you like to do, and when?”

(just because he’s a cocky lil shit doesn’t mean he’s not a gentleman)

but he’s also secretly planning the whole first date in his head

will i hold y/n’s hand? what will they wanna do? should i-

- minho’s brain

(aw)

changbin:

is on the bolder side

(be careful with this one)

(he’s feisty)

he probably let his feelings fester for a long time

so this is overdue

but he spends the whole day shamelessly flirting with you

he finally just asks if you want to grab some food

you don’t even really realize it’s a date until he insists on paying for everything

this makes you all clumsy and embarrassed

but he thinks it’s the cutest shit ever

well now he’s clumsy and embarrassed (sobs)

TECHNICALLY he doesn’t officially ask you out until after this

he pretty much just straight up confesses

the audacity i can’t

“y/n-ah... i really like you- will you let me take you out? on a real date?”

* gesturing to the take out *

he isn’t embarrassed at all

you CANNOT stop looking at his eyes

they’re so genuine and loving that you almost forget to answer

once he gets confirmation he promises to both plan and pay for the whole thing, even as you protest

how are you already in love with this man 

hyunjin:

poor hyunjinnie probably spent the last four months trying to decide how to ask you out

he’s been head over heels for you for a while now

and he knows he needs to make his move

(cause, let’s be honest- you’re a catch, and he’s protective. could i make it any more obvious?)

he ends up thinking that just being straightforward is the way to do it

so he spends the whole day just trying to get you alone

this is harder than he anticipated

so finally he just grabs you while you’re in conversation

and goes

“y/n, i’m sorry-it’s important, can i just talk to you a sec?”

you go with him, if not out of pure curiosity 

literally the SECOND you’re alone he just swivels around says

“did you know that you are really hard to catch alone?”

and you’re kinda just like: 

huh

but he continues

“anyways, i just had a question for you?”

“oh, okay. what is it?”

this is when the nerves hit him 

“oh, uh- i guess i was just wondering- if you would go out with me sometime? nothing big, i just-”

you interrupt him without thinking

“yes.”

* cue one completely flustered and w h i p p e d hyunjin *

jisung:

is not shy at ALL

but he wants to make sure you’re comfortable

so he doesn’t make a big deal out of it

he spent a lot of time debating how to do it

but he decides to write a note (so cute)

he waits until you leave the room for a sec

he slips a note into your bag that just says

“date? -jisungie”

with a lil heart next to it

then he panics and just books it

when you find it a bit later you’re initially confused

but then it kinda hits you

you FREAK out and track him down-

only to realize you have no idea what you want to say to him

but he knows you too well

and he just laughs when he sees your face

this makes you laugh too, even though you’re nervous

when the two of you finally recover he’s just

“but really- please? let me take you out.”

you know your face is on fire

so you just nod

but that’s all the confirmation he needs

felix:

king of overthinking 

we all know felix has EVERYTHING planned in his head

like, to a T

he’s been very stressed about asking you out, but he also doesn’t want to miss his chance

so he just thinks and thinks and thinks

he just wants it to be perfect for you

he decides to just hang out in the comfort of your home to do it

the two of you are just chilling (y’know. FRIEND THINGS.)

but he is completely in his own head

and you can tell

you get to be a little worried for him, so you just ask:

“hey- are you alright? you seem a little off tonight.”

he turns super pink and tries to play it off

but since you’re a stubborn piece of work, you pry a lil

and he cracks under pressure (I FEEL BAD OMG)

he finally just looks up and snaps:

“y/n- i’m really sorry. i wanted to to this well, and make it cute and romantic and have you fall in love with me in an instant. but you- god, you’re so nerve-wracking!”

you just sit there

completely flabbergasted

he bursts into awkward laughter, and between coughs he’s just like

“y/n, i was gonna ask you out. i’ve loved you for a while now.”

he continues: “but i guess i fucked up, didn’t i...”

you jump and interrupt him

and insist that he was being crazy- what was he doing letting his mind run free with that?

finally, to shut him up, you just lean over and place your lips over his.

seungmin:

is surprisingly confident

but also low-key has no idea what he’s doing

he decides to send you a text

he asks if you want to grab coffee, which you absolutely do

he doesn’t realize until later...

that he didn’t actually specify it was supposed to be a date.

oops.

but he kinda just goes with it, and the two of you maintain good conversation

finally he interrupts you mid-sentence and is like

“y/n, will you answer a question for me?”

you nod, and he continues:

“what is- uh- this- exactly? to you?”

* nodding down at your long empty coffee cups *

you don’t really understand the question (valid)

he kinda just sighs and starts laughing

“well. it was supposed to be a date. i’m just really bad at this.”

you just. cannot believe your ears

he just laughs harder and says

“so. can we try again?”

you start laughing too

and you know that even if it wasn’t the best first date,

you’d felt right at home. 

jeongin:

poor baby is SO NERVOUS 

he’s spent like,,,,

the last 6 days trying to plan how to finally do this 

but he decides to approach you and let it try to come up naturally

you two carry a conversation for a few minutes and then he asks

“so...do you- you know- like anyone?”

your face turns bright red

you can’t stop thinking

does he know oh my god am i that obvious i-

but you end up just looking away and being like

“i mean- i guess?”

he can’t decide how to respond

because on one hand- that person could be him

but on the other hand, it’s more likely that it’s not, and then it would be awkward as hell for him to ask you out

he kinda panics

then against his own will he just goes for it

“y/n-ah. i don’t really know how to say this- but will you let me take you out? i really like you...”

his ears are RED OH BOY

his voice kinda just trails off and you can tell he feels insecure

but when you tell him yes...

he was literally born for this

he gets so excited and doesn’t hide it at all

thank you so much for reading!! p.s. my asks are now open, feel free to send in your requests !

[granolabird]

I’ll Always be There For You

Tonights episode was a doozy. BUT!! We got some solid Hournite moments so I’m here with a fic of Beth taking care of Rick after his fight with Artemis, and they have a conversation regarding Rick’s self-sacrifice habits. 

Warnings: Mention of injury. Lots of fluff :)

Post 2x06 so if you’re not there yet in the show, there are spoilers ahead!

Tagging @blackfemmecharacterdependency 

!! If you want to be tagged for next Tuesday’s Hournite fic feel free to ask :)

.

It’s late at the Pit Stop, but neither Beth nor Rick want to go home. Yolanda is long gone, having to comply with the curfew set by her parents, leaving Beth and Rick alone. So here they are, sitting close as they try to comprehend what’s happened. Things had been going so well, and then Eclipso had escaped, killing Issaac, Cindy, and possibly The Shade too. Rick adjusts in his chair with a grimace, his breathing labored as he struggles with the pain of his broken rib.

“Rick! Are you okay?”

Rick forces a smile onto his face as he turns to Beth,

“I’ll be alright, yeah.”

“Are you sure? There’s not much I can do, broken ribs need to heal on their own but I can double check that everything’s okay, if you want?”

“It’s a broken rib, it’ll heal in time. I’ve had one before, I’ll live.” “You’ve had one before!? Rick, how do you get yourself into these situations?”

“It wasn’t my fault. It was Matt.”

“Oh.”

A moment of silence, and Rick sighs as he sees Beth begin to fidget restlessly. She does that whenever she isn’t sure what to say. He’s pretty sure it’s a habit she’s picked up from him.

“There is something you can help with.” He offers, and Beth immediately perks up, looking his way.

“Really?” “I think there’s a cut on my arm from one of the porcelain shards from my fight with Artemis. Now that the rib pain is starting to settle, my arm is really starting to hurt.” He rolls his left arm as he says it, and Beth gets up immediately, sliding around him to look at his arm.

“Well, roll your sleeve up and I’ll take a look.” She gestures to his injured arm, and he forces back a wince as he rolls up his sleeve. 

“Jeez!” 

“What? Is it that bad?” Rick cranes his head to see his wound, but stops when it sends a jolt of pain through his cracked ribs. “Well it’s not that good. But you’ll live.” Beth provides a small laugh and Rick is glad that she still has the capacity to joke despite everything they’d witnessed tonight.

Beth walks over to the table and begins organising her first aid kit, grabbing cotton balls, rubbing alcohol and bandages and putting them into a neat stack.

“Doesn’t your costume protect you from injury? How did this happen?” She asks, and Rick sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his good arm.

“The cape protects me. The costume is just as vulnerable as I would be without it on.” He explains and Beth’s head shoots up, her eyes wide.

“Rick!” Her tone is accusatory.

“What?” “You jumped in front of me when Artemis shot at me. If those arrows didn’t hit your cape, they could’ve killed you!”

“It was worth the risk. I couldn’t let anything happen to you. I’d never forgive myself if something happened and I could’ve saved you.” And that’s the honest truth. 

If anything happened to Beth, it would be the end for Rick. He would go off the deep end, let his rage consume him, probably get himself killed doing something stupid. She was the only person he truly trusted, the person who always had his back no matter what. The two of them had a bond like no others on the team, they grounded one another, and kept each other safe and sane. If something were to happen to Beth… Rick can’t even bring himself to think of what he might do to whoever had done it.

“Rick.” He had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t realized Beth had sidled up to him with her medical supplies tucked under her arm. He doesn’t look at her, not sure if his words had been too intimate. This is just like him, to go and say something that ruins a relationship, now things are going to be awkward between him and Beth and-

There’s a soft hand on his cheek, directing him to look at Beth.

“Rick.” She’s got such a deep look of concern on her face and it tugs at his heartstrings to see her so worried for him.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t need to risk yourself for me. I can fend for myself.”

“No, Beth, you can’t. You don’t have strength like me and Yolanda, or a weapon like Court. You have your goggles, and you're brilliant, but on the battlefield I worry that isn’t enough. I worry that it’ll get you hurt one day, and if you get hurt I won’t know what to do with myself.”

Her hand is still resting on his cheek, and as he makes eye contact with her he can see she’s formulating a reply, trying to find words to reassure Rick that she’ll be alright. 

“If I get hurt, then you’ll get me to safety. You always do.”

“Beth, we saw Issac and Cindy die tonight. That could’ve been any of us. I can’t get you to safety if you’re… if you...”

“I could say the same about you.” She shakes her head softly and lifts her hand from his face, kneeling to begin cleaning his arm wound.

“That’s different.” Rick huffs, trying not to jerk his arm away when he feels the sting of rubbing alcohol on his cut.

“Really? How?” Beth asks, giving Rick a side glance.

“I’m me. I can take a lot of hits, and if something happens to me? The world keeps turning. I’m more of a nuisance than anything.”

“Rick!”

“It’s true! I have no potential, I’m not going anywhere with my life. You, on the other hand? Beth, you’re destined for great things. Everyone loves you, and you make everyone’s life better. I make everything worse. That’s just who I am.”

“I am going to give you a stern talking to as soon as I finish bandaging your arm. I just need to focus, give me a moment.” Beth huffs, as she begins to wrap Rick’s arm. 

Rick can’t help but laugh, but his chuckle causes the pain in his ribs to flare, making him stop abruptly with a grunt. 

It’s a while before Beth is done, but as soon as she is she gets up, face determined, and pulls her chair in front of Rick. Then she sits so her knees are touching his, and frowns at him. Rick can’t help but smile a little. She looks so cute when she’s trying to be angry at him.

“Hey! Don’t smile, this is serious business.”

“Right, sorry, no smiling.” 

He still smiles just a little.

“Rick, we care about you. You know that right? He shrugs awkwardly, looking at the floor. “Yolanda, Court, Pat, Mike, me, we all care about you. You can’t just keep putting yourself in danger for us saying it’s because you don’t matter, because you do matter! You matter to us!” 

A pause, and then she says a little quieter

“You matter to me.”

He looks up at her, and there are tears in her eyes. She’s genuinely concerned for him. Rick doesn’t know how to react. In all his life he cannot recall someone being so worried for his safety. His parents were, once, but his memory of them is so faded that he barely considers it real.

“You matter to me too.” It’s an awkward confession, but Beth provides Rick with a smile, and so Rick smiles back. The pair laugh for a while, until Rick’s ribs flare up again and he has to stop. 

“So, do you promise not to recklessly throw yourself into danger anymore?” Beth is back to her stern side, and he sighs.

“Fine. But if you’re in trouble there’s no guarantee.” 

“Rick!”

“Hey, I’m just being honest!”

“I appreciate your honesty, but I don’t want you to put yourself in danger because of me.” Beth pokes his knee indignantly.

“But I will. I’m sorry but I will, You’d do the same for me. It’s just the way we are, I think.” 

Beth throws her head back with a disgruntled huff.

“I hate that you’re right.”

He smiles at her, and when she moves her head back down to look at him he sees that she’s smiling softly too. 

“What are we gonna do with ourselves? We’re a mess.” Beth says with a breathy laugh, as she presses her head into her hands.

“Keep on protecting each other I guess.” That’s the best answer Rick can provide. It’s not perfect, but nothing ever is with him.

“Right.” Beth is looking at him again, and there’s something there. Some sort of tension, and Rick thinks there’s something she wants to say. Whatever it is, Beth leaves it unspoken and pushes her chair back, getting up. 

“Well, now that you’re all taken care of I should probably head home. I don’t want to get back too late.” She brushes herself off awkwardly and then starts to pack up her first aid kit.

“Oh, yeah. I’m staying here for the night, but I can give you a ride home, if you want?” Rick offers.

“Can you even drive with broken ribs?”

“Probably. It’s not that far anyway.”

“Alright, but if it hurts too much I can walk.”

Rick nods in agreement, and takes as deep of a breath as he can before he stands, powering through the pain. Then, he and Beth make their way down the stairs to his car. She hops into the passenger seat, and he slides into the driver seat. It’s quiet as he puts the key into the ignition, neither of them quite sure what to say after the deep conversation they’d just had. As the car begins to move, Beth speaks up.

“Thanks, Rick.”

“For giving you a ride? I always do that, you don’t need to thank me every time.”

“For everything. For saving me, for being there for me, and for giving me a ride. And for every other thing you’ve done to keep me together through everything. Just… thanks.”

“Oh. Uh, you're welcome I guess? It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.”

“You always say that, but that’s not the point. The point is, over the last little while you’ve done so much to help me. And I’m grateful for that. You don’t need to compare yourself to me. Just know that I’m grateful.”

“I… Alright.” Rick taps his fingers on the steering wheel awkwardly as they pull down Beth’s street, and then stop in front of her house. 

There’s another moment of tense silence that is so common between the unsure teens, and then Beth turns and throws herself at Rick, embracing him in a hug. Rick is startled for a moment, and then the pain in his ribs sets in and he lets out a faint

“Ow. My ribs, Beth.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry! I entirely forgot!” She lets go instantly, and she looks him over frantically. 

“It’s okay Beth, I’m fine.” He chuckles, and that eases her worry. 

She still checks him over one last time with her goggles just to be sure, and then unbuckles her seatbelt and opens her door.

“I guess if you’re sure you're ok I should get going... Um... goodnight.”

“Goodnight Beth. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow! And if you start coughing up blood, or the pain gets worse, call an Ambulance! Don’t call me, I am not a medical professional. Do call me afterwards though, so I can make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay Beth. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

They share one last Smile, before Beth closes the car door and heads to her house, throwing one last look over her shoulder and waving to Rick. Rick gives her a small wave back, before turning around and driving back to the Pit Stop. After tonight, Rick isn’t sure what the two of them are to each other. There was some sort of admittance, he’s not quite sure how to explain it. It wasn’t a grand confession of love, but it was something. Something has changed between them, and all Rick can do is grip his steering wheel and hope it'll all turn out alright. Somewhere deep inside, beyond his shattered ribs, he knows it’ll turn out alright.

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

Okay I had to do some stuff, but here I am rambling about relationship between Killer and Nightmare in Colours of LOVE.

Some of this I might mention before some of it might be your and Jann or Yuri ideas... Anyway!! The way I see that:

Even though this is soulmate au Nightmare and Killer aren't perfect fit for eachother. They are perfect fit in threesome - Ccino softens rough edges of both of them, and changes their attention from being mad on eachother to carrying about Ccino together (especially at first when he is really depressed). But before that... It was hard.

Killer is really open about everything he thinks and feels. If he founds someone who is attractive he will flirt. Even when he is already dating Nightmare. And also he always shows his affection to Nightmare everywhere, in public too. That's cute and sweet, but Nightmare is really closed person so that makes him really uncomfortable. Night often got jealous with Killer flirting with anyone else, got embarrassed with his kisses and all on public, and in general is a bit annoyed with Killer's actions. Killer on the other hand doesn't really understand why Nightmare is so "tensed" (he is not, Night is just much more calm, but Killer don't get it).

They were braking up and coming back again a few times, because they had argued a lot about everything and got tired of this. Right now they are on their "best days" - they started to date again a few weeks ago and right now they are through some stuff, they understand eachother better, and pretty chill about eachother weird actions. Like in the second page Night is a bit flustered by Killer's kiss but he almost used to that. Same as he is worried about being late, since Killer is almost always late, but he is more or less fine by that. On next page (which you haven't seen yet), there are an interesting dialog between them, and I will definitely write some of "subtext" about it when I will post it.

Actually if they haven't met Ccino they would break up again after a few months. And maybe come back again after a week.

Also! Interesting thing about third soulmate: at the beginning of the comic (before Nigh met Ccino) Killer is 100% sure that they have third soulmate, but Nightmare is sure for about 60%. Killer is existed about that, he knew knew that he is polyamorious for a long time, but Nightmare hesitates a lot, because he can't really imagine himself in polyam relationship. It feels weird and also he is soooooo jealous about Killer paying any attention to anyone except him, that he worries to become "third wheel". Will it be different with Ccino?? Who knows (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Hi kotikaleo!!! This was super fun to read.

Firstly I'm going to tag @zu-is-here since she started the studio verse

It's definitely an interesting insight to your comic and the characters!

It reminds me a lot of an early version of my own ideas about the studio verse nightkiller relationship! And I can definitely see the way we have bounced headcannons of each other paying off.

Them still dealing with a softer kind of lovehate dynamic is an interesting one. It doesn't seem to be as extreme as my version, but it's interesting that it's still there.

The fact that they are meant to work as a 3 makes sense as well. If they are supposed to be bounded as a 3 it makes sense that three they their relationship would be unstable. They don't work as a two, but they are soul mates and something would always pull the two of them together.

I'm also curious, since Nightmare isn't 100% sure that the lack of colour is due to them being soul mated to another person. I wonder if he ever felt like the universe got it wrong? And that he'd been mated to the wrong person? Or perhaps he felt it meant that him and Killer don't have soul mates and that's why they have some connections.

It sad boy.

Also if Killer knows he's poly by nature, is that something that causes disagreements with the 2 of them?

And now for mine and @jann-the-bean version.

This story has been something that we mostly developed in tumbler DMs but both me and Jan wrote a story about it. Jan wrote

KillerNight(s)

And I'm writing

Round and round till we all fall down

Nightmare and Killer's relationship started off baddddd, it basically started as a mutual dislike for one another. This is due to their conflicting personalities and morals.

Nightmare was originally quite excited to meet Killer, as he'd heard a lot about the actor. But almost straight away he found Killer to be rude, childish and irritating. Killer found Nightmare to be stuck up, snobbish and entitled.

The two first met at an awards ceremony and got into a yelling match after a few drinks and were separated. From there their dislike for one another was made quite well known to the public because of a social media battle back and forth.

This only went on for a few months however, as the characters of 'Killer' and 'Nightmare' were cast to play together.

Nightmare and Killer agreed to be civil in order to function while working and get the filming completed as soon as possible.

As they worked together, their dislike turned into a playful banter and respect for one another. And then something else shifted.

Now Killer has a reputation for being a player and one who likes to sleep around, as you said, he's open about his interest in people when he has it and enjoys casually flirting with just about anyone.

Which came to include Nightmare.

Nightmare paid no mind to it really, though he couldn't understand why it embarrassed him so much.

Killer comes to find Nightmare to be very attractive and enjoys his reactions when teased, he rights him off though because he was under the impression that Nightmare was straight, and he'd never try to change that.

It was a day when they were talking about Killer's eyes and how it's caused him to struggle, that Nightmare tells him that he thinks his eyes are very pretty and that they are an attractive quality, and something in Killer breaks and he kisses him.

So Killer feels like he messed up and the two avoid each other. But it causes Nightmare to start questioning things about himself.

Nightmare at this point had only every dated women. He assumed that he was straight. But after that kiss a lot of buried feelings are dragged to the surface and exposed, and he realises that he's also attracted to men.

So Jan goes into full details about this, in the fic Killernights, but basically Nightmare confronts Killer about the kiss and Killer tells him he 'has a thing for him'

The two go back to Killer's flat to talk, but their normal banter, leads to flirting and then another kiss. And Nightmare who is curious and suddenly craving new sensations becomes lost to him. Killer who finds Nightmare physically very attractive, also gets wrapped up and the two of them sleep together.

Nowwww this is getting long so I'll try to shorten it down a bit.

Basically, it's an amazing night. It's passionate, enjoyable and a lot of fun for both of them. Upon finding out Night has never been with a man, Killer guides him carefully though the process.

After that night the two can't stop thinking about each other, even though they both planned for it to be a one time thing. Again, they avoided each other until talking after a while.

And killer admits his desires for the other, and offers Nightmare a safe environment to experiment with his sexuality, where he won't be judged.

To cut a long story short, this spirals into a passionate and carnal, on and off booty call/fling with each other that spans for years.

Other that time they grow very close with each other, and come to recognise the similarities that they share, and have soft moments of just enjoying being together with one another.

For Killer, Nightmare is the first person to ever tell him he had beautiful eyes and mean it. The first person who wasn't at all put off by them.

To Nightmare, it feels like Killer is the one person that will never pick Dream over him. And he makes him feel wanted and desirable in a way few have before.

However, their are still parts of their relationship that conflict. Of course a healthy relationship will always have some conflicts. But for Killer and Nightmare the conflicts clash and fight with each other.

That along with both of their past traumas, (I wrote about Killer's back story here) means they find it difficult to talk about genuine feelings and what's bothering them. Causing things to bottle up and blow up over time.

They also find it impossible to admit that they actually love each other deeply.

They tried to be in a full on committed relationship once, (which I'm writing about in Round and Round) but it didn't work out for these issues. As well as the fact that Killer is poly by nature, and therefore gets anxious and uncomfortable in a relationship with one person only. Which he won't talk to Night about for the reasons stated above.

Enter Ccino.

Now Ccino is the missing piece for Nightmare and Killer.

He's soft and gentle spoken, which easily helps them calm down when things get heated between them. He also provides a safe and loving space to open up about what things are bothering them.

Nightmare and Killer's also, as you said, spend more energy caring for and sometimes worrying about Ccino, so they have less energy for the constant fighting.

Ccino was the missing piece. He's the person who will cuddle and read books with nightmare, but also the one who's super into affection, which Killer loveesss.

A relationship would never work between just killer and Ccino, since Ccino wouldn't be able to keep up with Killer's libido and killer doesn't know much about Ccino's mental health. And Ccino wouldn't work in a relationship with just Nightmare because Night's colder and more straight forward personality would leave him affection staved after a while.

They just work together! They are basically soul mates in this universe as well!

P. S Nightmare in this universe was also very veryyyyy jealous when Killer showed interest in Ccino. Which is something he took out on Ccino till Killer stopped it. After falling in love with Marshmallow he regrets this a lot.

I'M SO EXCITED FOR MORE. COLOURS OF LOVEEEEE

[deepperplexity]

Titel: That’s Your Patronus?!

Pairing: Lucius x Muggleborn!Female!Slytherin!Reader 

Prologue: You had been secretly admiring Lucius Malfoy for quite some time. But, as you were a muggleborn he had only glared in your direction and jabbed at you with remarks of how you did not belong in Slytherin. But, when he finds you bruised and battered by a couple of Gryffindor boys handy work he leads you away to a secret room with a worried look across his beautiful face. In the end, Lucius is the one baffled by your own secret...

Setting: Hogwarts, Room of Requirements, Seventh Year

A/N: So this is my first Lucius fic ever, I have wanted to write one for quite some time now and this idea has been with me for just as long of a time. I hope you will enjoy it! ^^ 

ABBR.: | (y/n) - Your Name |

Word Count: 3606

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Injury, Bullying, Kissing

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3

You had been crying for the last fifteen minutes. Why do they have to be so mean? I never did anything to them… Your thoughts only made the salty tears roll down your cheeks at a more rapid pace. You couldn’t figure it out. You had always been picked on. The Slytherins picked on you for being a muggleborn, the Gryffindors picked on you for being a Slytherin. You had friends in both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw but you weren’t the outspoken one. You were, well, you were shy and insecure. Who wouldn’t be with constant picking and bullying? 

So you hid in an empty corridor as you wept from the ache in various parts of your body. They were clever in that sense, they didn't use magic since it could be traced back to their wands if one simply did a Priori Incantato spell and there would be the evidence for all to see. So, instead, there were kicks and hits, slaps and threats. In all honesty, that was worse than the magical jinxes and hexes. How much do you have to hate someone to physically punch them? Kick them? What did I do..?  

You sobbed as you scrunched yourself up into a little black ball between a pillar and a statue. “What did they do?” The stern and clear voice of Lucius Malfoy snapped your head up despite your eyes being red and your cheeks wet. You blushed at the sight of him while you hastily wiped away the tears. His eyes had widened at the sight of your marked face. A cut lip, a bruising jaw and swollen cheek where a blotchy red mark from a harsh slap was visible. 

You tried to smile gently as you shook your head. Your stomach was in knots and you could not help but wonder why it had to be him of all people who found you in such a state. “(Y/n), answer,” he commanded as he glared down at you. The light from a nearby torch danced across his high cheekbones and the long blond hair seemed to shimmer. He was perfection in your mind.  “Not-nothing, I’m fine,” you stuttered out as you lowered your gaze from him. Go away, I don’t need you to bash on me more, actually, I’d rather take another beating than hearing foul things from your mouth…  

His pale, slender hand appeared before your face and you reeled back from the surprise. “Up,” he commanded and you looked up at him as he folded and unfolded his hand to, in a way, ask for your hand. “Why?” you asked with a low voice. He simply tucked his chin in and looked at you with raised eyebrows. You tentatively took his hand and he pulled you up with ease. “Come on,” he said quickly with finality to his voice and tugged on your hand so you stumbled along slightly behind him as he marched to-, well, to somewhere. 

Your eyes kept darting up towards his face as your blush grew deeper while your heart pounded as your hand felt incredibly warm in his pale one. You had no clue where you were or where you were going as all you could see was him by your side holding your hand and dragging you along. 

It wasn’t until he stood still that you looked around. He was glaring at the wall before you and a moment later a door appeared. You gawked at it but your attention wasn’t fully on it as Lucius still had a tight grip of your hand. Once the door was fully formed he opened it and pulled you in with harsh movements that felt better than they should have. That somehow took away all your notion of throbbing pain in other parts of your body. 

You had worshipped him, pined for him and longed for him desperately the last two years. But you were nothing to him. All he did was glare and hiss at you; as often as he could it seemed. So that he held your hand was some kind of world-altering experience as you had only been able to guess what his skin felt like, if his slender fingers were strong or not, if he would pull or wait. Well, now you had your answers. 

The room was pitch black as the door closed and then little twinkling lights shimmered and shined in the ceiling while a fire roared to life all the way over on the other side of the gigantic room. You took a deep breath as it suddenly felt as if you weren’t being crushed by harsh stone walls any longer. You had needed the space, without even being aware of it yourself. Okay, usually I just go outside when I feel like that and it helps. I didn’t- who knew a room like this existed? How is this existing? It’s as huge as the Great Hall for Salazar’s sake! 

You looked around with wide eyes but snapped out of it as Lucius let go of your hand before he walked over to a rather huge sofa of the darkest green shade. You instantly wrapped your arms right under your breasts in comfort. You hugged yourself as you looked at his back. He walked with such grace and poise it was hard not to stare. The blonde hair that hung loosely around his shoulders that was covered with the Slytherin House marked cloak. 

“(Y/n), come,” he said without looking back at you and your body jolted into a brisk walk. He sat down on the sofa and once you reached it yourself you stopped, hesitated. Were you supposed to sit beside him? As if he had read your mind he patted the cushioned seat right bloody next to him. You bit your lower lip and took a seat. 

You smoothed out your skirt and kept your knees pressed tightly together. You were no longer crying but you were a sordid mess next to the perfection that was Lucius. You felt his eyes rove over you as you held your gaze transfixed on your fidgeting hands that laid atop your thighs. Yet somehow, you were smiling. It wasn't that much of a surprise actually. you were always smiling. It was nearly a habit but also genuine.

“Tell me,” he said rather clearly, “what happened this time?” he continued with a voice that was perhaps a tad softer. You weren’t quite sure. About his voice or what you were supposed to tell him. His pale hand grabbed your fidgeting ones in a steady grip and you gasped. You couldn’t help it as he nearly gave you a heart attack with the sudden move and strength of his long fingers. “Tell me,” he urged and his voice was a bit clipped. Harsh actually. 

You furrowed your brow as you dared a look at the young man you were so utterly enthralled with. Who had filled your nights with steaming dreams and your warm showers with thoughts of wandering hands and echoing moans. But it had always ended the moment you remembered that he was disgusted by you. By your blood status.

But there he was, holding your hands in his. There he was, seated beside you in your solitude. There he was, wondering what had caused you such pain. And there you were, feeling utterly miserable as the only thing you could think was that you were about to be terribly broken one way or another. No good could simply come from being so close to him, it wasn't possible.

“It was nothing, they just teased me for not being able to produce the Patronus in defence against the dark arts today…” Your voice was low as you tried your best not to lose your courage to speak while you looked at his magnificent face. He let out a little hiss. “Dunderheads, the lot of them.” Your eyes widened in surprise. That was a rather mild comment as it came from him. You had heard far more colourful descriptions of Gryffindors from his lips. 

But his voice, that was what somewhat shocked you. He sounded angry. But why on earth would he be? He took jabs at you all the time, made sure you knew your place - not in Slytherin and not in proximity to him or other purebloods. He was eager in every way to push you down, down, down. 

Your thoughts drifted to the lesson that was the base for that day’s bullying. You had tried, with all your might, to produce your Patronus. You had done it a few times before, away from others. And since you knew what your Patronus was - well, it put a kink in your will to show it to others. So even if you had truly tried with all your might, your will had not been in it. 

“Do you not have happy memories?” Lucius’s voice broke through the light fog that clouded your mind and you smiled in a gentle yet kind of sad way. “I do,” you said as your fiddled with your fingers, your hands in your lap as he had released you a moment earlier. “But?” You peeked at him from the side and he looked at you intently, as if he actually cared or wanted to know. I need to be careful, he might, might just be setting me up for something… “I didn’t want to do it,” you shrugged while you spoke in a low voice. 

There was a moment of silence and Lucius had grabbed your hand yet again. It sent jolts of warmth through you and you did your best to hide your feelings, hide what you knew was a lost cause and an endless torrent of heartache and pain. “Why?” The word was quite simple, so was the question. Yet you found that you didn’t know how to answer it. Could you tell him about your Patronus? Could you tell him how you feared it would make you an even easier target for bloodshaming and bullying? Could you trust him enough for that? 

No, no you couldn’t. But you could tell him your reason for not wanting - without giving away too much. “I-, I didn’t want others to see my patronus.” “A patronus is something to take pride in,” Lucius said as he gave your hand a little tug and forced you to give him your attention, “not to hide away.” You tilted your head at his words. Sure, you say that now. Your patronus is a damn peacock! Nothing to hesitate about, it’s just beautiful and perfectly suited for you. Proud and independent, majestic yet wonderfully gentle. So yeah, of course, you’d say that… A damn peacock is nothing to mine… 

“Show me,” he said with that voice that was as gentle as it was dismissive. He just had it in him, his status, purity and family were so imprinted that he carried himself and spoke in a way that wreaked superiority, even when he doesn’t mean to sound harsh he still dose. “I-, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you mumbled out as your cheeks blushed. You felt it creep down your throat and further down to your chest covered with your shirt and tie. “Show me,” he said again and you looked into his beautiful eyes. His face framed by long, blond hair and his features were chiselled to perfection. 

You swallowed as heat swirled through your veins and gathered in the pit of your stomach. You could not help but imagine what his warm hand would have felt like if he caressed you in places none had before. How it would have felt if he had pressed his lips against yours. How it would have felt to hear words of endearment from him. The thoughts made you shiver while you were incredibly warm. 

You shook your head. He glared at you, even if there was another emotion that swirled in his bright eyes of the clearest grey. He always glared at you so it wasn't really something new. Yet it felt different when you were seated so close, while you were alone in a hidden room. It was different, yet the same. As landscapes changed with the seasons, it was different but still the same.  

He released your hand and produced his wand. “Expecto Patronum,” he said with conviction and strength to his voice. A bright light swirled from the tip of his wand as a peacock emerged in a silvery-blue light. It spread its tailfeathers and pranced around in a display of some swaying and soft sort. It looked quite astoundingly beautiful so up close. You could not help but stare at it with awe. But you did not wish for another Patronus, you loved your Patronus - it was just so different… 

“I’ve shown you mine, show me yours.” You took a shaky breath. His words were harsh and not to be refused. You knew him well enough to know that you had no way of getting out without producing your Patronus for him to see. “I’m sorry,” you said as you produced your own wand, “I’m not sure you’ll like it.” “Do you like it?” “I love it,” you replied with rosy cheeks and an embarrassed smile. “Than I should think I will find it intriguing.” You chuckled at his words. I think you’re right, for good or bad.  

You rose and took a step forward, so as to give yourself a little space from him. He clouded your mind and you couldn’t focus when he was so close. You racked your brain, searched for a memory that could fill you up and help bring forth your Patronus. When you found it you allowed it to consume you and then you flicked your wand up a bit higher. “Expecto Patronum,” you said as steadily as you could with that gentle voice of yours. 

“Holy Merlin-!” was the first thing that was heard as your Patronus stood proudly next to his little peacock that swiftly disappeared as Lucius’s focus was broken. You peered up as you craned your neck. Your classmates had showcased everything from mice to bears, horses to dolphins, tigers and owls - but your Patronus was on another level. “ That’s your patronus?! ” Lucius nearly shrieked and you looked towards him. He was paler than pale, pushed back into the sofa as his bulging eyes stared, he nearly gawked, at the T-Rex that had sprouted from your wand - fueled by happy memories.

The T-Rex walked around in the huge room for a moment, its teeth gleamed white from the light and so did the claws and eyes. It was a weirdly viciously beautiful sight and you did truly adore it. Your Patronus. “Yes, that is my patronus,” you said as you looked at the T-Rex. “ What the bloody hell is that thing?! ” You chuckled at his ignorance. “What, you’ve never seen a tyrannosaurus rex?” “A tyrano-what-now?” You chuckled at his confusion. “Tyrannosaurus rex, a T-Rex,” you stated to simplify it for the confused pureblood. “I have not and I hope I never shall!” 

You laughed at his words and horrified look, and the T-Rex seemed to focus on you with a gentle shine of happiness. “What?” Lucius asked in confusion and irritation. “They’re extinct, been for millions of years. They were walking the earth long before us,” you said as you tried to collect yourself from the fit of laughter. “Good,” he muttered as he glared at your Patronus. It glared back and you saw Lucius lower his gaze for a moment. Intimidated by the humongous creature of happy light portraying fangs and claws created and evolved for killing.  

“How can you have such a beast for patronus?” he asked as his gaze slid over to you rather than the T-Rex of happy light. You lowered your gaze a tad as you fidgeted with your fingers. You pulled a bit on your skirt, unknowing of what to say. “You’re so gentle, and weak. How can you have that within you?” His words were harsh and cold yet it felt as if he were not being mean deliberately. Perhaps it was just so ingrained in him? “I don’t know, perhaps because I am gentle?” He looked confused at that. But you continued, “perhaps because I am gentle and weak, as you point out, on the outside. You do not know anything about me or who I am. To you, well to you I’m just a filthy mudblood, no?” 

His head had jerked up at your own insulting words aimed at yourself. He looked at you, anger flashed in his cold eyes and you felt a shiver that travelled through you as you tried your best to hold his gaze. “That’s what I have always been to you, and will always be, a dirty thing only worthy of hateful words,” you continued with a gentle yet sad voice, “you’ve made that quite clear.” His hands fisted and he looked away from you. His lips sealed tightly. Your heart hammered in your chest as you tried your best to hold back the tears that wanted to escape. I will not cry, I will not cry again tonight. I knew, knew this was a bad thing. 

He rose from the sofa as your Patronus vanished. He straightened and you allowed yourself a second to just look at him. Admire him for such a fleeting thing as looks. Because he was gorgeous. Handsome, beautiful even. “Don’t you understand? I have to do that or I would go utterly mad.” Your eyebrows knitted together at his gritted words. “I do not understand, at all.” He glared at you when you spoke. Anger and rage in his eyes. “If I do not make sure you stay away from me I will not be able to stay away from you,” he growled on a hiss and you took an involuntary step back at the coldness of his tone. Yet your heart, your heart fluttered in your chest as his words echoed in your mind. 

“You like me?” you whispered out. “Of course I like you, who the bloody hell wouldn’t?” You gaped at him and tried to find any words to utter but your mind was completely blank. “You’re beautiful, smart, gentle and kind. Always smiling despite everything, always. bloody. smiling! ” he gritted out as if it were a crime against humanity to smile, “how can you possibly be so damn happy? Even now your smiling, you’re bruised and battered, bullied and alone in the world - yet you are still bloody smiling?!” His nostrils flared as he spoke, anger again visible in those cold eyes of his that you wanted to keep looking into for all time to come. 

“The world won’t be a better place just because I allow it to crush me,” you whispered as you tried to contain that smile he spoke of. But it was difficult in his presence as he made you feel such strong emotions that were both happy and sad. Your smile that of both joy and sheer will to not let things smash you into pieces. A self-defence mechanism and at the same time just who you were, how you were.

His face smoothed out, surprise in his eyes this time as he just looked at you. Baffled. “It won’t be a better place just because you smile either,” he countered. “No, but at least it won’t be worse.” He huffed at that and looked away. For a moment you felt a need to just lash out at him, release all the pent up anger, sorrow, hurt and misery. But that was not you. No, you were kind and gentle and would suffer in solitude if the awful emotions needed to come out. 

“You’re an idiot,” he grunted on a sigh. “Perhaps,” you said in return. “Or maybe I’m the idiot.” You knitted your brows at him again. “I don’t think so,” you responded with a pondering voice as you tried to contain your emotions and not let your mind run wild with the desire you felt for him, “why would you be the idiot? You’re smart, ambitious, excellent at many things. Popular.” “Yes, but if I were smart I would not be here alone, with you,” he hissed as he stepped towards you.  “Why?” you asked, your breath caught in your throat as he was inching ever closer. “Because if I was not alone I wouldn’t be able to do idiotic things,” he continued as he stopped right before you. “Like?” you whispered as your heart hammered from his proximity and your head fuzzed over from the manly scent that wafted from him, a gentle yet firm aroma that smelled like heaven; or hell - you weren’t quite sure. “This,” he growled and grabbed your chin before he smashed his warm lips against yours. 

For a moment you felt nothing, and then - everything. All the longing, desire, love and affection bubbled up along with the fear and sorrow of all hurtful things he had done to you. It was too much, too many emotions and you could not contain the tears that had been wanting to be released. So you cried silently as he kissed you with passion, his arms wrapped themselves around you as your hands grabbed his uniform and tried to pull him even closer. 

When the kiss was broken and you both panted while you looked at each other he reached up and wiped away your tears. “I don’t understand,” you murmured as you worried your lip. He tilted your head with a finger under your chin. “You do not need to understand.” “But-” “Always smiling and yet when I kiss you, you cry,” he said to cut you off and you felt a smile tug at your lips. You couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry,” you apologized and he raised his brows in a harsh way. You wanted to look away but couldn’t. “Do not apologies, I feel rather special,” he admitted and you could have sworn that his cheeks were taking on a tinge of red for a moment. It made your heart flutter again and somehow you found your courage and pulled him in for another kiss with absolutely no clue as to what was happening or how it would be after you left the secret room. But if this was your moment with him, you would make the most of it...

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[Jan:2021]