#idk i just like that they look lifeless yet so lovely and alive

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Kiss Me ♡ Sam Winchester

Pairing: Sam winchester x reader

Warnings: no use of y/n, I'm very dyslexic so idk witch which is witch, not proof read, I wrote this in an hour? Help, kiss, idk what else to put, this may not make sense but I just needed to write something and all my wips bored me so ✨️tada✨️

Summary: a witch cursed Sam to only awake with a true loves kiss, so naturally Dean calls you, the only problem is you haven't seen the Winchesters in 5 years.

You swore that you would never see the Winchesters again.

That was the only thing that you promised yourself. The one rule you could never break.

As a hunter you don't get a lot of garentees in life, you get close to zero, but this was your one none negotiable rule and everyone knew that.

Which is why you were cursing yourself as you drove down the highway, going at a very illegal speed trying to get to the winchesters as fast as possible.

Or more accurately to one spefic Winchester in particular.

Sam Winchester.

Dean had called you not even an hour ago, you hadn't picked up the fist 5 times, but on the 6th ring you figured it must be important.

He wasn't making alot of sense, but one thing was clear, Sam was in trouble and he needed you.

The winchesters being in trouble wasn't anything new, in fact it was the norm, but this seemed diffrent, it had to be diffrent otherwise you wouldn't have been called. Dean never called you even when you worked together, it was always sam. You and Dean didn't realy get along, it's not that you hated eachother, but you were both weary of eachother. And both of your concerns arose form the same factor, Sam. It was a safe assumption to say that you both cared for Sam, but unfortunately that ment that you often clashed.

But that's all in the past. Because you hadn't spoken to them in years. You hadn't seen Dean or Sam in 5 years. Yet here you were knocking on the door to the address of a motel that Dean frantically gave you over the phone.

"Hi-" you awkwardly began to sat as Dean opened the door, but you were quickly cut off.

"This is going to sound insane but right now I don’t have time to explain." Dean began, as he basically dragged you inside to where Sam lay unconscious on one of the cheap motel beds.

"Can you just kiss him?" Dean bluntly asked looking you in the eyes.

You were completely taken back by the forwardness of his request.

"What?" You muttered, glancing quickly to Sam, laying almost lifeless on the bed. He looked bad. You wouldn't have known he was alive if his chest didn't fall up and down ever so slightly.

As if reading your mind dean began to speak again. "And quickly as he might actually die soon."

"Sorry I'm a bit confused, why-" you began but were quickly cut off again.

"A witch, obsessed with fairy tales, cursed him like sleeping beauty or some princess shit and I thought killing the bitch would end the curse I was wrong so you need to kiss him."

Your head wad spinning. If it was sleeping beauty then that ment that...

That couldn't be true, could it?

No that made no sense you hadn't seen the younger of the brothers in 5 years. He was probably so diffrent. He could have lost his boyish smile. Or his perfect hair. Or his humour. Or-

"That doesn't explain why I specifically-" you began, but just as before you were cut off by Dean.

"Cut the bullshit, and just kiss him. I can waste time explaining but sammy is dieing, please. I just know that this will work, it has to, you look at him like I look-" he stopped himself, sighing almost lost in thought. "It doesn't matter just kiss him goddammit!" He practically shouted.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "just hurry up, I'll be outside."

With that he turned his back and slayed the motel door behind him as he left.

He left you alone with Sam.

Sam.

He looked terrible. He looked dead. It broke your heart. You could have stopped this. If you had just been there. If you'd had stayed....

No. You couldn't have.

You and Sam said things to eachother that you should have never said, and it ended up with you waking up in his bed. And you couldn't do that. Neither of you could. So you had to leave. And that's exactly what you did.

And that's when your rule stared. You told Bobby to never put you on a hunt with them or you wouldn't show.

Your rule spread like wild fire and soon it was a common known fact that you didn't hunt with the winchesters. No one knew why, but no one questioned it, especially given the winchesters track record.

Yet here you are, 5 years down the line, breaking your one rule.

You walked over to the edge of the bed to where Sam lay.

"I'm so sorry." You whispered. You didn't know exactly what you apologising for. Kissing Sam or for everything before this moment.

Closing your eyes you tentatively leaned forward and gently pressed your lips to his for a brief second before pulling away.

He didn't move.

No, no, no no. This couldn't be happening.

You reached to grab his hand, waeving your fingers between his.

"Come on Sam, please wake up." You pleaded as tears began to fill your eyes. How could you be so stupid? You left hom for 5 years, he could have been dead for that whole time and you would have had no idea.

"Please..." you sobbed as you rested your head on his chest.

You felt numb. It felt like you had just been stabbed in the chest and someone kept twisting the knife.

Gently a hand started stroking your hair.

Your head jolted up.

There he was, eyes open, a small smile on his lips.

"Hi love," he bearly whispered, half confused half over joyed.

"Sam!" You cried and you flung your arms round his neck, "you scared me you son of a bitch."

"What are you...?" He began but trailed off.

"Dean called." You answered, quickly remembering the whole situation, pulling shyly away from Sam.

"You came?" He sounded shocked.

"You needed my help."

"I thought-"

"Yeah you made me break my one rule Sam so...?"

A silence fell over the pair of you. You couldn't look him in the eyes. God you felt awkward.

"It was a pretty crap rule." He mumbled, looking directly at you, a half smile playing on his lips.

"I had good reason for it I mean-" you began.

"You ran away beacsue you were scared." He said matter of fact way, his eyes showing his hurt.

"I hunt monsters for a living I doubt that I was scared of some feelings, they're hardly spooky." You laughed. It was painfully obviously forced.

"So why did you leave then?"

You couldn't answer his question. He was right. You were scared. Scared of what you felt for him. And back then it felt like a valid reason. But right now, you felt stupid.

"You know what the curse was don't you?" He asked.

"Sam I-"

"It was the cliche of a true loves kiss. The witch said it didn't exist so I was destined to die."

You stayed silent, you couldn't look at him. You knew what it ment. You both did.

"Yet here I am, here you are." He said as though he was proving evidence in court. You were evidence of true love. After 5 years of not seeing eachother, you both still were irrevocably in love with one another. It was true love.

"Here I am." You agreed, finally meeting his eyes. "So now what?" You asked tentatively.

You were both quiet then. His smile only grew as he leaned closer to you.

"I think it's time you got rid of your stupid rule." He whispered in your ear.

"Why should I do that?" You pulled away, a matching smile on your face.

His smile softened as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"So that way I can wake up with you beside me, instead of you just living inside my dreams. So I can hold on to you instead of just our memories. So you can kiss me all the time and not just beacsue I'm dieing."

"That does seem like a valid reason, you got anymore?"

"Because I know, even after 5 years, you still feel the same way I do"

"And what's that?"

"I love you."

You were only inches away from his face now. You could feel his breath on your skin. He leaned on closer pressing his lips to yours.

His lips felt so familiar it almost hurt. It felt right. This is where you needed to be, this is where you should have been for five whole years.

You let yourself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against your spine, drawing you impossibly closer.

His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed as he deemed the kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair.

You didn't want to stop,you couldn't, and judging by Sam's reaction to your touch he couldn't either.

"Have you-?" Neither of you hear the door to the motel open as Dean basically ran in. "Oh jesus my eyes, sammy I'm glad you're okay but fucking hell!" He quickly truned on his heels, overdramtically covering his eyes. "Use protection!" He shouted just before he closed the door, muttering under his breath 'these darm kids' as though he were a middle aged man.

You and Sam just looked at eachother for a singular moment before bursting into laughter.

"I might ammend my rule slightly..." you said after a few deep breaths.

"How so?" He asked leaning in closer to you once more.

"I now swear that I'll see the winchesters everyday, or at least one spefic Winchester everyday."

[neteyamsmainbitch]

PROTECTOR —

‘if you’re scared, i’m on my way.’

neteyam sully x omaticaya!reader.

— you can always count on neteyam to get you out of tricky situations.

warnings: slight violence, probably a couple uses of bad language idk, fluff.

authors note: i haven’t posted in two months lol, this was rushed but i didn’t feel like fixing it.

—

neteyam has been there for you more times than you can count, whether it was known to you or not.

it was no secret that neteyam inherited his fathers need to protect the people he loves, you specifically.

he was always protective of his family but he always had a drive to constantly make sure you were okay.

anytime you got so much as a scratch, the poor boy blames himself for letting his beloved mate endure an injury.

although he can be a little too protective at times, you adored how safe you felt around him, when you're in his arms, no harm could ever come your way. he would never allow it.

neteyam felt at peace knowing you were safe and sound in the warmth of his home.

except you weren't.

you were currently hiding among the bushes from the sky demons that invaded your beautiful planet. you thought you had it under control, but you couldn't slip away quiet enough.

"come on out, i won't hurt you" quaritch speaks with a sickening laugh, anger bubbled inside you as you remembered the horror stories spoken around the village, all origin from him.

he destroyed your life; he was the reason you were alone on this planet.

you gripped the knife in your hand, it happened to be the only weapon present. you were ready to pounce, to get your revenge but a shock ran through your body as a strong arm grabbed you by your neck, pulling you from your hiding spot.

you struggled in the RDA soldiers grip as he held a gun at your head, presenting you to his colonel, "aren't you a pretty thing" the colonel spoke through a disgusting smile.

you curse at him in na'vi language, to which he only chuckled at.

"where is your leader, jake sully?" his teeth were gritted against each other.

"it's embarrassing that you're still obsessed with him even after all these years" you spat back.

a scowl was evident on his face as he repressed his question, now with more aggression, "where. is. he."

you only hissed, you would die a thousand tortuous deaths before betraying the sully family.

"i like it when they're aggressive" his teasing made his face even more punch-able than before.

just then you heard a rustling through the bushes, all the soldiers looked around at their surroundings. you took this opportunity to contact neteyam via voice comms.

"old lab, hurry" was the only sentence that i could manage to get across, you prayed to eywa that he heard.

and he did, he didn't have time to tell anyone where he was going. blinded by his protective urge and rage that anyone would dare lay a hand on his beloved.

his heart pounded the entire ikran flight to his destination, thoughts invaded his mind. what if he couldn't get there in time?

what if you were already dead?

the thought of seeing his mate lay on the forest floor, lifeless eyes and a stiff body was a sickening sight to imagine, his stomach twisted in disgust at the mere thought.

he could only pray to the great mother that he would get there in time.

his ikran landed silently on the cliff side, his feet were quick yet stealthy as he navigated the forest, one goal on his mind.

get to you.

he hide behind trees, eyeing the situation. and there you were, still alive, a gun to your head as you backtalked the holder. neteyam internally face palmed at his fiesty mate, still can't help but get smart even as a bullet is threatening your life.

"you know, i could just take you back to headquarters and keep you as my pretty little na'vi." quaritch stroked your cheek which he earned another hiss in return.

this was neteyam's turning point.

he moved through the trees in silence, he had a good angle. he drew his bow back and shot his arrow right through the throat of the man who held you under his gun.

all the soldiers immediately went into action, guns up and frantically searching for the attacker. while neteyam kept moving, effectivly shooting every fake na'vi with his deadly arrow.

as quaritch got flashbacks from his fight with neytiri, he quickly fled, leaving the girl behind.

when everyone cleared out, neteyam went to you. falling to the ground together, he held you tightly against his chest before pulling away and examining you for any injuries.

"are you okay? what did they do to you?' a million questions ran out of neteyam's mouth at a unnatural pace.

you grasped his face between your hands, looking into his beautiful golden orbs, "i am okay ma'neteyam, thank you for saving me."

he kissed your forehead before resting his against yours, "don't thank me for this, you know that if you're scared, i'm on my way."

"i am never letting you leave my side again" neteyams arms crushed you as he now rubbed his face where your neck met your shoulder, "i thought i lost you, i was afraid i was too late."

neteyam was disappointed in himself for not being able to get there before you even had a gun to your head, he kissed your face all over, trying to erase the image of you struggling under the weapons of those demons out of his mind.

"i am okay now, neteyam," you reassure the boy who was on the verge of shaking, "now let us go home and rest, does that sound good?"

[cheegu3]

Heloo may I request a enhypen reaction when y/n killed themselves and left a note saying "this is all your fault"

Sorry if this makes you uncomfy

oh not at all, I was only on the fence about writing this bc idk if talking about this topic is allowed on tumblr, but I hope u didn’t feel a lot of anxiety when sending in this ask 😭 it is a little short so sorry abt that :c some of the notes are a bit different too to switch it up!

tw / trigger warning: yandere, dark themes, depression, suicide, self-harm, sad asf, cursing, violence, blood, suicide-note, vomiting, gun

pls do not read if this triggers or offends you or if you're struggling !!

Yandere!Enhypen - reaction to you unaliving yourself

Jungwon

He didn't know how to react when he found you dead. No tears fell down his face as he looked for a pulse, clutching your cold hand in his.

When he spotted a note lying a few meters away, a heavy sigh left his lips and he gave you a pained look.

' This is all because of you. If only you'd treated me like a normal boyfriend would, maybe we could've been soulmates. I hope you feel pain for the rest of your life. '

The more Jungwon stared at the note, blaming him for all of your pain and problems; the more he felt like he had to fight to hold back the tears that were itching to fall.

At the same time, he found a strange anger bubbling inside of him. Not only did you - the love of his life, leave him in this way but you had to wish him pain in your last breath too?

He became blinded by anger. The hand that was holding the note clenched and the paper crumbled under it.

He will try to stay alive just to spite you. Trying his best to move on and get happy, maybe fall in love again and find a family just so he could get his revenge; as you watched from above and realized you meant nothing to him.

But Jungwon never got over you, not really.

Heeseung

He got angry immediately, cussing you out and almost getting the urge to hit you. Instead, he took his anger out on a mirror and felt some sense of relief when he started to bleed.

He blamed himself of course. He had been wrong about how you were feeling, even though he often prided himself on having been able to read you like an open book.

He didn't notice your spark slowly dying out; the more he got angry the more he got jealous, and then the more you were punished for the smallest things.

It got to a point where you couldn't even live in the moment and enjoy the short times when he was a sweet boyfriend again, because you were always scared of what would tick him off a few seconds later.

' I'm sorry, Hee. I was so tired of fighting. I love you,

y/n. '

His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. He could only manage to hold them back for a few seconds before he doubled over and sobbed loudly.

The room filled with loud wails of pain that would even make angels cry. Anyone that heard it would know just how much he loved you.

Heeseung clutched his chest right where his aching heart felt like it was being ripped out of him. '' I'm sorry, I'm so sorry baby, '' he kept whispering until he was tired of crying for hours and it turned into shaky murmurs.

He fell asleep, hoping it would be eternal, with your body in his arms; dried tears on his cheeks being replaced by new ones, as even in his sleep he couldn't escape seeing his lover.

Jay

It was the worst phone call he had ever received. He didn't know how to react after it ended, only staring blankly into the distance as his thoughts went crazy.

He needed to see you with his own eyes to believe it so he rushed home. His stomach sank when he spotted the ambulance. Quickly he pushed through the people to get to you.

But when he reached you and saw your lifeless body on the stretcher, he didn't know what to do yet again. A stupid voice inside him told him he should keep his cool in front of all the spectators, even while the love of his life lay dead in front of him.

Did he want to cry, scream, or hold you?

He lowered his eyes to get the image of you like that out of his head. Still in shock, he went inside, locked the doors, and shut the windows' blinds.

He stayed like that for days; barely eating, seeing the sun, or getting out of bed. No matter how bad his depression got and how the light at the end of the tunnel seemed to get further and further away, he still refused to cry.

There was a reason. Your note.

He had seen it while cleaning his house that day he got home. Not wanting to let his thoughts get to him, he started sterilizing and cleaning the whole house. When he then got to the bedroom, a small green note poked out underneath the bed.

He crouched and was about to throw it away until he turned it over and read the first and only line.

' this is all your fault '

And after that, he'd never be the same man again. Most days he wondered if he was even human anymore, he didn't feel anything.

Jake

'' Y/n! I'm home. ''

Jake's face scrunched up as he pouted when you didn't come running to him like usual. Something felt wrong, a bad feeling brewed in his stomach, growing in size the more he moved around in his apartment.

He went further in, peeking around the corners but not calling out for you anymore. It felt better to explain the bad feeling by thinking you were doing something you weren't supposed to, rather than you being hurt; so he moved quietly so he could catch you in the act.

Inside the office, you were nowhere to be found. He guessed you had snuck in there to write to your loved ones or maybe snoop through his stuff. Defeatedly he sighed and moved on, eyes getting caught by the door to the bedroom being slightly open.

Jake stopped in his step and turned back.

'' Y/n? Are you in there? Come out please, I just want to talk, '' he tried, his voice coming out a lot more whiny and desperate than he'd planned.

But he got no response except for silence. His worry grew. One deep breath later he pushed the door open before he could change his mind.

It slowly creaked open, revealing the room little by little. He fell to his knees and gasped.

You were lying in a pool of blood. At first, he felt a surge of anger - who could've done this to you? Then, his attention drifted to the small folded note next to you, and his heart sank.

'' No, please don't say...'' he trailed off, hurrying to unwrap the paper with so much panic that he almost ripped it.

' I wanted to meet my friend one last time, that's all I asked for, but like always it was about what you wanted. We both know that this was all your fault. '

Overcome with despair and grief it wouldn't take long for Jake to join you. He couldn't stand being apart, and he'd find you wherever you were, even in death.

Sunghoon

He felt very angry at you, not himself. Yes, he had dared you to do it while the two of you were in the middle of a screaming match but he hadn't expected you to actually pick up a gun.

The image of you staring at him, tears in your eyes, and that look on your face, which was the last he'd see of you, would forever be etched in his mind.

He couldn't sleep at night. It was like it was burned into the back of his eyes too.

Once your body fell to the floor with a thud, his eyes widened and his lips parted. He knew you were gone without even having to check your pulse.

'' Do it, '' those were his last words to the one person he loved.

He felt sick suddenly, rushing to the bathroom to throw up everything and then some more.

In that bathroom he stayed for hours, just staring blankly at the tiles on the wall, not saying a word or moving an inch. After the sun started setting outside and the light caught his eyes, he finally got up and went to where he had last left you.

You hadn't moved. Sunghoon crouched down next to you and started digging in your pockets for your phone. Something sharp brushed against his palm.

He took it out and saw that it was a note. Unraveling it, he discovered it was a suicide note you must've written a long time ago. Had you always had it on you? Just in case.

' I hate you '

He clenched his fist around the paper, it broke. '' Weak, '' he whispered under his breath and got up.

It was a coping mechanism to place all the anger on you. God knows what he would've done if he started letting that transfer to himself. But, even the anger couldn't stop him from missing you - every single day.

Sunoo

He would blame himself immensely, not having room to be mad at you at all. All that he felt for you was pity and empathy. He tried putting himself in your shoes for the first time and it was a heartbreak he'd never experienced before.

He went to school that day, so excited to see you, only to feel horror as he pushed through the crowd that had formed curiously and saw your body there.

It felt like slow-motion when the wind made you turn and you made eye contact with him. Whispers spread like wildfire all around him, surrounding him completely.

Sunoo felt confused and scared, his eyes darted around anxiously and he tried slipping out. Someone pushed him back.

'' You did this! ''

His head snapped up. A girl, your friend, was standing on the table overlooking the whole classroom. Her eyes were red from crying and in her hand, she was holding something white.

' I'm sorry to do this here, but it's because of my boyfriend, he's controlling and an obsessive, crazy person. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of him. I'm sorry, I love you '

His world fell apart in an instant. He had no idea you'd been feeling like that, why didn't you tell him? He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair as he came to a realization - you did, and he didn't listen.

He was finally allowed to push through the crowd and run away from the school which he'd never again return to. Tears streamed down his face the whole way home, and they didn't stop even as he reached it.

In his mind, all the ' what if-s ' played. What if he fixed himself and was less obsessive, would you have stayed then? What if he was less jealous, would you have loved him back? What if...what if.

Ni-ki

He tried distracting his mind by both rationalizing it to soften the blow, saying '' we probably weren't made for each other anyway '', and trying to go on dates with other girls.

However, every time he did so, he'd zone out and wish that it was you sitting across from him instead. He started daydreaming which brought a smile to his face until it dropped almost as suddenly as it had come when he heard her voice and realized it wasn't you.

They could never be you.

Suddenly he was angry at them, cursing and telling them to leave him alone and to never text him again.

Deep down he knew he'd never love anyone like you again, and you were actually meant for him; but he hated admitting it and to spare himself from more pain, might never admit it.

That was the thing, you were meant for him. Not anymore; you didn't exist anymore, because of him. He knew that now that his soulmate was gone forever, his bleak days would never be lit up by you again.

Just thinking of that smile, the only one that managed to get through his tough and cold exterior, made him feel like crying or punching something.

He then thought of the note, which he often did, and your body at the morgue because he hadn't come home quick enough to see you, and for that he was grateful; seeing you like that would've driven him to the edge.

The note, the one that read, ' I'm sorry, Riki. I tried, I really did. I love you, -y/n '

[bloodycassian]

darkness defined - 

az or cass x reader idk if this makes sense or not but here we go, either az or cas POV where reader (their mate) was stuck under the mountain with rhys and doesn’t come back bc she is still locked in the dungeons (rhys just assumed she died, he doesn’t know she is still alive)  Switch to readers POV, a few months later where they think their mate and their family (the night court) has abandoned them bc nobody ever came looking for her. Reader is like on the verge of death and uses her last energy to send a pulse down the bond. Switch back to az or cas POV  who are basically freaking out with guilt and anger and worried-ness. Im sorry it’s super long don’t feel pressured to write this anytime soon idk if it even makes sense  

DONT APOLOGIZE FOR BEING SPECIFIC! I LOVE WORKING WITH THIS KIND OF STUFF PLEASE DO MORE LOL

Cassian was a wreck. From the moment Rhys came home alone, and until the end of time it seemed to be. Azriel sighed, watching his brother down his second bottle of alcohol. His eyes were red, face gaunt and pale. The circles under those tortured eyes looked more like bruises. 

He hadn't talked to Rhys much since the news came that you were gone. Cassian had practically blown the roof off the house of wind, then disappeared for two weeks. The only reason Rhys had let him was because Az followed, far behind just to make sure he wasn't going to do anything drastic. 

Azriel watched his brother circle the mountain, only to have to turn away. Wards made by Helion himself refused entry to anyone while the mountain was still being evacuated of Fae. He glared daggers at the people streaming outside the shield. His heart was a painful stab in his chest constantly. His mate.. gone. He refused to believe it. And Azriel saw the denial there, plain as day. 

Azriel had only stopped him once. When he packed a bag and started his flight to Hybern. He earned a black eye and a verbal lashing for that, but it had saved Cassian from going on a suicide mission.

After a month of being out, he went to his brother. Rhys refused to ask Helion to lower the shields around the Mountain, and finally Cassian seemed to give up. He would have gone to Helion himself, but the wards around his court prevented him from doing so. Rhys was torn up over the entire experience of under the mountain, but losing you was one of the worst parts. He would never forgive himself for losing his brother's mate. 

Azriel watch his brother's eyes get more and more dull. Watched the bottles stack up. Rhys wasn't around much, busy regaining control over his city, getting updated. And keeping an eye on Spring Court.  Cassian sighed when the bitter liquid hit his tongue. He drank like it was salvation. Like it would lead him back to you. Plus, it helped him sleep. It was the only time he could sleep without seeing you, without feeling that pull - the command his instincts gave. "Find me, find me. I'm here. I love you. Please."  He often escaped to the cabin. To not have to talk to anyone, and to keep Rhys from stealing his bottles from him. Cassian was convinced Rhys was saving them to drink for himself. That's where he found himself flying, bottle of booze in hand. The guilt a lead weight in his stomach. 

The door shut, and he finished the first bottle in an hour. 

Mor appeared beside him, took the second bottle from his hand and had a long drink herself. He smiled drunkenly, showing too many teeth at her. He wasn't sure if she was actually glowing or if it was his eyes squinting too much. "Cheers." He slurred, taking the bottle back and downing more.

+ The walls were getting drier and drier with each passing day. The once cool winds that would cut through the stone dungeons were turning softer, warmer. It was a welcome relief, but without the muddy water from the walls...you knew you didn't have much left. Your spirit was crushed, on top of it. Death seemed like not a terrible option anymore.  Especially knowing that your court - your friends - your family had left you. They had just... forgotten. Thrown you aside like nothing. Didn't even try to find you. Like the Winter court skeleton in the cell beside you, just left to die.

  You pushed the thoughts back, knowing that logically that wasn't true. But you couldnt come up with a reason why they would leave you down here. You prayed, you tried sending thoughts down the bond. Nothing worked. Sometimes your mind got the better of you, and you would rush to the bars of your prison cell when you thought you heard faint footsteps. 

Then you would hear your own voice echo back, and no one else.  Eventually you stopped getting up. You let the fantasies keep you entertained while you lay on the floor. Not caring about the bugs that crawled on you. You were glad there wasn't a mirror to see yourself in. A wave of dizziness crashed over you, and you fell into darkness. 

When the water ran dry, you stopped bothering calling out for Cassian. The bond was there, but saturated. Trying to grasp it was like trying to hold wind. You were too exhausted. So you propped yourself up in a corner and let the dizziness pull you under again for a moment. Taking rattling breaths, you let your mind wander to that mind bridge. That once sturdy marble that would always remind you of Cassian. 

You sent out a final tug down that bond. Using the last of your energy, you put all your effort into it. "I'm here, I always will be. I love you. I'm sorry." The platform you imagined your bond being seemed to go dark, and lifeless. Empty.

+ Cassian shot upright, head spinning. Mor was asleep beside him, her feet on the table. He shook her, trying to shake the stupor. "Wake up. Wake up!" She groaned, weakly batting him away. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. He wobbled to the kitchen, dunked his head in the cold sink water and slapped himself a few times. The haziness from his stupor crawled away, slowly. 

Mor appeared in the archway, rubbing her eyes.

"Get Rhys. I need you to winnow us." He demanded, patting her face softly. Her eyebrows knit together but she stretched, and sleepily obliged.  + You assumed the crackling was just your starved imagination. Again. But the wind changed as well, and you tried not to let your hopes up. You weakly opened your eyes, to the same familiar cell. A silent tear slid down your cheek.  Then there were the shuffling of footsteps again, and you hid your face in your hands. It seemed like all the imagination tricks were attacking at once. You wanted it to stop. You wanted nothing more than to just fall asleep until you could see and hold Cassian again. Voices, now.

The sweet deep voice of a man who spoke another language. An ancient language. Your ears rang. You cracked your eyes again, to a blinding white light. You held a hand in front of your face, trying to see behind it. 

A thud, and scrape of metal. Then the scent hit you. It was similar to what you had imagined but somehow a million times better. Then, his arms were around you. "Mother above." He breathed. You would have thought the mother took you at last if it wasnt for the pain in your gut.

"We got you honey, I'm so sorry. Im-" He tried to hold back a sob. You smiled weakly at the familiar, yet different eyes that you loved. The marble platform you shared seemed to be lighting up with happiness. At the same time, crumbling and falling with shame. Anguish. 

Rhys began winnowing the group immediately, nodding to Helion. The high lord gave him a melancholy smile back, and winnowed himself in a flash of light. He would check the rest of the mountain with his forces and repair the wards before he returned to his home. 

Everyone surrounded the healer, watching her work. Mor was trying to stay calm, but her hands shook when she held Amrens. Rhys and Azriel both had jaws clenched, shoulders tense. Watching the way Cassian's tears fell on to your shoulder as he cradled you. The healer squeezed  his arm softly, silently requesting him to move. He didn't.

Azriel went to his brother, wrapping an arm around him. "Your mate needs you to be strong, Cas." He consoled, pulling him away gently. Cassian held you tighter, just for a second then nodded and let go. He held your hand firmly. His warmth missing from your body was a shock. You began shivering. Amren tugged a blanket off the guest couch nearby and placed it over your legs. 

"T-thanks." you muttered. Her eyes widened, but she nodded. Her and Rhys glanced to each other. A silent conversation. You didnt care. 

"Cas?" You squeezed his hand, and there he was. His pale face looked ragged. He seemed like he was struggling in every sort of way. You didnt want to imagine what he was looking at when he looked at your features. You could practically feel your cheeks sinking in, your bones losing their density. "I missed you." You smiled, trying to lift his mood. 

His lips quivered, and he nodded. He kissed the back of your hand. "You wouldnt believe how much I missed you. All of us did." he glanced to Rhys. His face was blank, but that steady stream of power seemed to be crackling outside. 

You let your eyes drift to each of your friends. Each of their tear stained faces were such a welcome relief. Over a month alone, their presence alone was enough to soothe that part of you that doubted their love. 

Cassian kissed your forehead, before the healer's light knocked you into a peaceful sleep. 

[genshin-obsessed]

My (f/n) | Zhongli x Reader

Hello! This was originally a collab idea from a friend between like 5 people. The friend who suggested the collab pulled out and idk about others lmao so it might just be me. BUT I COMMITED AND DELIVERED SO! Cuz I’m responsible and amazing💖 anyway. It’s a reincarnation AU! Banner made by 🎭 anon! Thanks to @squeaky-ducky and @solies-scripts for helping me edit this💖

Extra sidenotes: Your previous self’s vision is pyro but you can choose whatever for the reincarnated version even tho it’s not mentioned. Also, Yehara and Lilith are my OCs (yes... more)

Length: 2.1k Summary: Zhongli loves and cherishes you above all else. One day, you’re snatched away from him and the world turns black for him. Yet somehow, a thousand years later, he sees you again.

The bright sun beamed down at the land below, illuminating everything in a golden glow. Zhongli stepped out into the light and closed his eyes, inhaling the fresh air.

Days like these were beautiful but they became a blessing all thanks to one person. A smile graced Zhongli’s beautiful features at the thought of them. His hand found its way onto his chest and he felt it steadily beat. He felt an overwhelming sense of serenity and it was all thanks to this person. You.

You, yourself, were a blessing in this archon’s life. He never thought he would ever feel like this. That he would ever feel love. What was love to archons? They usually loved the lands they resided over. The original archons held love for humanity and guided them.

For Zhongli, love was something of a general term. He loved the sun, the lands… today. But his love for you was something he couldn’t describe. Something the man of wondrous knowledge couldn’t understand.

Zhongli came to realize that love wasn’t something that could be easily explained nor did it need to be. Love gave him overwhelming happiness, so why bother trying to understand every aspect of such a beautiful idea.

The Geo archon walked through the city of Liyue and although he felt great joy, there was also a certain uneasiness. He paused and touched his chest once more as the anxiety grew.

Ultimately, the man ignored it, unable to find the root cause of such dread. He instead opted to find you, so you could settle his nerves a little.

***

“Zhongli!” You beamed once you saw him. He chuckled as you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his slim figure.

“You’re rather excited today,” he commented as he hugged back, “what brought on such elation?”

“Hmm, a very pretty man.” You said, cheekily. There it was, that smile of yours washed away any and all discomfort he felt.

“Oh, is that so? I’m quite jealous.”

“I wouldn’t be.” Zhongli chuckled once more as you leaned in and gave him a kiss. The sensation of your soft lips remained on his even after you’d pulled away. “What brings you here today?”

“I was thinking we could spend some time together. We could go for a walk, maybe set up a picnic since that’s what you wanted to do last time.”

“Really!? You’ll go on a picnic with me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Your radiant smile was contagious as he found himself smiling in return.

“I’ll set it up!! It can be a late night picnic or- oh! Oh! Let’s watch the sunset! Then we can have our picnic. I’ll set up candles!” Your enthusiasm was always something Zhongli loved. It benefited him more than he could admit.

“Alright then. Where?”

“Our spot!” Zhongli teasingly tilted his head making you pout.

“What spot? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Yes you do! Come on, Zhongli!” Zhongli leaned in and pecked your pouty lips before nodding.

“I do. Then I’ll meet you there?” You nodded with a bright smile.

“Yes! Exactly! I’ll have everything set up and I want it to be a surprise.”

Zhongli spent a little more time with you before he left, since you needed to prepare for the date. Only a few minutes after he’d left you, the anxiety returned. He touched his chest once more with furrowed brows. What was this?

***

You smiled as you started to place the items down onto the blanket. You’d been planning this picnic for weeks now and you finally had the chance to do it.

You set the cushions and small table you had brought, placing the candles and wine bottle. The food would remain in the basket to keep it safe from bugs since you had to wait quite a while. Hopefully your pyro vision was enough to keep it warm.

“Hello, are you (y/f/n)?” A soft voice called from behind. You turned around and saw a shy, but beautiful woman with long pink hair. The clothes she wore indicated she clearly wasn’t from here. She fidgeted with her hand, showing she was nervous.

“Um… who’s asking?”

“Ah, sorry! My name is Lilith but you can call me Lily. I was told you knew where I could find a um… Mr. Zhongli?”

Zhongli? Why was she looking for him? Finding her safe enough, you opted to direct her to your boyfriend rather than giving information about yourself.

“Oh, yes I do! He’s back in Liyue but you’ll find him at Wangshen Funeral Parlor.”

“Thank you so much!” But she didn’t leave. A giggle escaped her lips and she met your eyes, giving you a dreadful feeling.

“Y-yes?”

“So he’s not here with you… good.” In the blink of an eye, Lilith was in front of you. She threw you back causing you to fly into a tree. You let out a scream as your weakened body hit the ground. Pain shot through you and you weakly looked up at her.

“Wh-why…”

“Pitiful. You’d think he’d choose someone of his caliber but no. He chose someone weak and pathetic like you. Your pyro vision was wasted on you.” Woah, where did her soft voice and shy demeanor go?

“Zh-Zhongli…” you called out as Lilith picked you up and slammed you into the tree once more.

“Call him all you want. But he won’t get here in time.” Lilith repeatedly slammed you into the tree before a sickening crack was heard.

A weak whimper escaped your bloodied lips as the light faded from your eyes.

“H-help m-me… Zh… Zhong… li…” Lilith caught your limp body and picked you up. A wicked smile played on her lips as she walked to her destination.

***

It had happened all so suddenly. Zhongli was meeting an acquaintance to talk about his work at the funeral parlor when he felt a sharp, intense pain in his chest and back. He just knew.

He threw everything away, apologizing to his friend and practically sprinting to where you two were supposed to meet. There he was met with a grim sight.

The picnic had been set up almost completely, but the large tree behind it was covered in blood. The Geo Archon knew exactly who it belonged to. He finally noticed the letter sitting on the table.

Once he read it, he ran to the nearest Statue of the Seven in hopes of finding you and whoever took you. But it was too late. When he finally reached the statue, his heart shattered.

Your body was on top of the statue, laying across the lap of the stone man. Blood trailed down your arm that hung over the edge and dripped from your finger. Your lifeless eyes stared into nothingness, the final sign of your death.

A large pillar solidified in front of him and he quickly climbed up to get to you. Zhongli’s shaky hand slowly and hesitantly touched yours. Cold. You were so cold. Where was your usual warmth? Where was that dazzling smile that often chased away his sorrows? Where was the light in your eyes? Where was the joy you brought him?

“M-my… (f/n)...” he murmured in a sorrowful tone, “what’s… no. No, this isn’t happening.” He pulled you down and into his arms, wincing at how lifeless you were.

You couldn’t be dead, you couldn’t have left him. He jumped down to the ground with you tightly in his arms. His eyes stung and his vision started to get blurry. Crying? An archon, crying? The tears slowly slid down his pale cheeks. His voice cracked when he spoke up.

“Wake up, my love. Please wake up.” He begged looking down at you. The blood trickled down your mouth, a clear sign you’d been killed recently. Within the hour, actually. “P-please blink… please wake up. Please come back to m-me. I just… I can’t do this without you. I…” what could he say? What could he do?

Zhongli had failed. He’d failed to keep you safe and alive. He’d vowed to always protect you and he vowed to never let you get hurt.

The tears spilled down his cheeks and the pain in his heart grew. He took your face in his free hand and took a good look at his consequence. At his failure.

“Tell m-me this is just s-some cruel joke, w-wake up and tell me this isn’t real. I-it’s just a n-nightmare, right? Right?” Zhongli held you tightly with his head pressed against your chest. Nothing. He heard nothing.

You never blinked, you never looked up at him with that adorable giggle, and you never exclaimed it was a joke.

You really were gone.

***

How many years ago was that now? Almost a thousand? Zhongli had never gotten over your death and how could he? His first and only lover had been ripped away from him and he still hadn’t found the murderer.

There had been a significant change in Zhongli since then. He was much more reserved and defensive but he was also very protective of anyone he came to call a friend. Ever since losing you, he found it hard to love and care for people the same way.

There was a constant emptiness, a loneliness that never left. No matter how many friends surrounded him, he always felt empty. Food and drinks were tasteless and the world lacked color. No smile matched yours, no warmth matched yours, and he never found a pair of dazzling eyes such as yours. And he was sure he’d never see them again… or so he thought.

“Zhongli! Are you coming?” Yehara asked, making the man look toward her.

“Oh, sure. Let’s go.” Zhongli had met Yehara a few years ago and had helped her during a commission. She hadn’t been doing so well and he’d practically saved her. Ever since then, she stuck to him like glue. Although he wasn’t terribly fond of her from the beginning, he grew to like her. Once they were close enough, Zhongli finally opened up about you and your death.

Yehara swore she’d help solve the murder and wouldn’t rest until he knew. Zhongli had grown much closer to her than he anticipated. The relationship gave him complicated feelings, ones he didn't want to even deal with.

At first, he wondered if he had feelings for Yehara or else why did he feel so comfortable with her? Why did he feel so safe? Why did he often find himself seeking her out when he felt alone? He was scared because you were long gone but for him it was just yesterday. Zhongli didn't want to move on, no matter how healthy it was. He only wanted you, nobody else. Not Yehara, not another archon, no one but you.

There were many things he felt with you that he didn’t with Yehara. Her smile didn’t light up his world, her laughter didn’t echo in his ears, her hugs didn’t leave him tingling, and her words never stayed with him for more than a minute.

There were many nights he spent thinking about himself and Yehara. Was he in love with her? It took some time, but he eventually came to the conclusion that didn’t. He hoped she didn’t either.

“Zhongli! Stop dozing off!” Yehara said, making him look down. He chuckled and patted her head, before looking away.

“Sorry, sorry. It won’t happen ag-” Zhongli stopped abruptly, his golden-orange eyes widened. No…

“Oh come on Zhongli, you just said this wouldn’t happen again.” Yehara huffed and followed his gaze. He was looking into a group of people but after a few moments, her red eyes widened as well.

A person, looking EXACTLY like you was smelling some flowers at a stall. You smiled and Zhongli’s heart sped up immediately.

“It’s them… that’s my (f/n)... I know it.” The archon whispered.

“That can’t be… I thought…” Yehara looked at Zhongli only to look back at you. The duo watched as you nodded and purchased the flowers and turned towards them. When your eyes landed on them you froze, almost as if you’d seen a ghost.

“They saw us.” Yehara gasped, bringing Zhongli out of his trance. You did. You were looking directly at him with the same look of shock. Without wasting any more time, you ran towards him and stopped right in front of them. Zhongli’s heart was beating out of his chest and he clenched his hands. Why were you looking at him like that?

“You’re… Zhongli, right? I’m (y/f/n)... I know you from my dreams.”

“Dreams?” Yehara asked and you nodded, giving her a soft smile. You were more beautiful than Zhongli had described. She could see why he was so infatuated.

“I began dreaming about you when I turned 20.” That was an odd coincidence, since you were 20 when he first asked you to be his.

“You… know me?”

“I do. I only know things from dreams and as dreams not memories… but since you’re here in front of me, there has to be some truth to them. So will you tell me more?” A smile of relief appeared on his lips and he nodded.

“Of course, anything for you… my (f/n).”

[george-fabian-weasley]

Harry Potter — The One That Got Away

Summary: You died in the Battle of Hogwarts after pushing off Fred away from the wall, and Harry was beyond devastated. You were his First Love, and will always be.

Words: 7,440 words

Warnings: Angst, My best angst yet, Altered Storyline, Pure form of pain, I just wanna hug Harry in this one, neutral!reader, Death, Mentions of panic attack, Tissues Are Recommended

Disclaimer: This is my longest fic yet! 7.4K words of pure pain, wow. I’ve worked on this one for like idk 5 days? I recommend listening to The One That Got Away by Katy Perry, the lyrics inspired me so much for this one. Also, can you believe this is my first time writing a Harry fic? Crazy, I know! Enjoy the painful ride, fellas <3

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“Harry?”

Your voice echoed the room, making everyone’s heads turn to you. You heard the news of Harry, Ron, and Hermione returning to Hogwarts after months of disappearances, and the news was right. The group of people opened, and there he was, the boy you loved for almost three years now.

“Oh my god,” You muttered under your breath as you ran to him, Harry scooped you up easily as he dug his head on the crook of your neck instantly. You hugged him so tight, the tears in your eyes were starting to well, you never thought you would see him alive and well in front of you, but there he is right now, hugging you as if you were his last reason to live.

“I thought I would never see you again, wh-where have you been?!” You frantically ran your mouth, arms still wrapped tight on his body. “It doesn’t matter, oh Godric, I missed you so much.” Harry sighed out; his tense body relaxed immediately as you held him. You pulled away, hands cupping his face, “Are you alright, a-are you hurt?”

Harry smiled fondly at you, his hands cupping your face as well, “I’m fine, darling.”

“This is adorable and all, but we sort of having a situation now, if you mind?” Neville voiced out awkwardly. Harry quickly kissed your forehead and sent a glance to the crowd around you, “Right.”

Harry was quiet.

He couldn’t think of anything else than the moment he had arrived at Hogwarts a few hours ago. That was the first time he had seen you after months of hiding in the woods to find the Horcruxes.

He heard the news. And he refused to believe it. Being in denial, he ran to the Great Hall, his heart begging nonstop for the rumor to be false. Harry ran, and ran, and ran. He didn’t care that his legs were exhausted, he didn’t care about his heartbeat constantly increasing, all he cared about as of that moment was you.

Right at the end of the Great Hall, a group of dusty gingers huddled together, seemingly crying. The little voice in his heart now screaming for its life; not ready to know what were the Weasleys crying for.

His feet felt heavy, it felt like he has rocks tied with his shoes, but Harry forced himself to walk closer to them. Closer and closer, he found familiar faces contorted as they cry. From a distance he could make up George who was holding back Fred; the older twin was fighting to be let go, sobbing as he does so, begging to be near that someone laying on the floor.

Harry had never seen Fred cry before, the tall ginger always had a smile on his lips or a laugh of mischief, but never a frown, never tears rolling down his face. And that’s when Harry arrived, and Molly; Ron’s mum, hugged him tight, sobbing onto his shoulders, whimpering ‘I’m so sorry’s. He couldn’t hug her back, no, not when his eyes were frozen on the vision of you.

Laying on the ground, lifeless.

Instantly, his knees were weak. He kneeled beside you, the screaming of his heart had never sounded so deafening. Harry was beyond shocked; he couldn’t comprehend the vision in front of him.

All of this was too sudden for him to understand.

When Hermione let out a strangled cry of pain, Harry felt his heart was stabbed. “I shouldn’t have been near that wall! Y/N pushed me away and-and the wall started to fall, I’m-I’m sorry, Harry this is all my fault-“

Harry could hear Fred’s pained sobs saying the words, but he couldn’t digest it. His eyes were still trained to you. For a moment, he thought you looked angelic. As if you were just sleeping and, at any moment now, you would blink your eyes open and smile at him, saying, “Good morning, love.”

But you didn’t. And that’s when the dagger in his heart turns.

“Y/N.” The way your name rolls down his tongue felt weird. It felt strange because you would never respond to him calling you again. Harry’s trembling hands went down to cup your face, brushing away the specks of dust from your face.

“You’re- You’re cold, darling.” His voice was calm, but Harry knew that was the only thing that was at the moment. His whole body was trembling, his breaths were heavy, his eyes struggling to blink; as if… if he blinked, then you would vanish from his eyesight forever.

At that moment, Harry cared no longer about his environment, he didn’t hear Ron’s sobbing mess as he was hugging George, he didn’t hear Hermione’s screams of denial of her best friend’s death, he didn’t hear Fred’s cries of overbearing guilt.

Harry only heard his quivering breathing. He hadn’t noticed the tears welling up his eyes until a drop of his own tear fell onto your soft skin.

That’s when Harry Potter breaks.

“Wh-Why are you so cold?” Harry’s whimper silenced everyone. Hermione froze from her frantic breakdown, Ron looked to Harry with the sudden realization that he’s the one most hurting at the moment, and Fred minimized his cries to look at the pair.

“Why are you so cold, darling?” He cried again. Harry was breaking down, he was exhausted, the very people who loved him dead one by one, and you were his last straw. “Why are you leaving me, Y/N?” He whimpered against your stomach, clutching your clothes tightly as he tried his best to find your warmth. The shirt you were wearing started to get wet with his tears, it took Harry everything inside of him not to crumble right there and then.

His stomach hollowed as he realized, even in death, you were beautiful.

Harry didn’t know how much time he spent there, but as he opened his eyes, he realized he was standing in front of Dumbledore’s office. Numbly, he went inside. His thoughts were still preoccupied with you, but he has other matters in hand. No matter how much he wanted to stay there and lay beside you, the war was far from over. And the one-hour duration Voldemort gave them was running short.

When he walked out of the room, he was shaken. Not as shaken as he was of your death, but he was still shaken. Snape… was protecting him this whole time? Harry was snapped from his thoughts when he recognized two figures sitting on the end of the stairs. He took a deep breath as he walked closer to Ron and Hermione, who huddled together, hand in hand. Hermione looked to her back as she heard footsteps, quickly standing up as she realized it was Harry.

“Where you’ve been?” Her quiet voice echoed through the silent castle. “We thought you went to the forest,” Ron breathed out, worried. Harry walked past them, trying to look calm and stoic as he replied, “I’m going there now.”

“Are you mad?” Ron said in disbelief, his eyes followed the back of Harry. “No!” He said, desperation visible in his voice, “You can’t give yourself up to him.”

Ron’s words made Harry stop on his tracks. He looked down to the flights of staircases before him; exhaustion evident on his face. Upon looking at Harry’s back stiff, Hermione asked, “What is it, Harry? What is it that you know?”

Harry slowly turned around, looking at Hermione, his eyes silently begging her to give him a rest. “… There’s a reason I can hear them. The Horcruxes.”

He watched Hermione’s face dawned upon realization, “I think I’ve known for a while, and I think you have too.”

Hermione frowned, tears started to well up in her eyes, she didn’t want to lose another best friend, yet she knew, she had no choice. “I’ll go with you,” “No, kill the snake.” Harry was quick to object.

“Kill the snake and then it’s just him.” He said, watching Hermione silently cried.

She quickly came forward and embraced Harry into a hug, crying on his shoulders as she did. Harry hugged her back just as tight, he needed it. No one hugged him when he was crying at the Great Hall, everyone was fairly shaken at your loss. Harry connected eyes with Ron, who was silently protesting him on going to the forest alone, even if he knew nothing is stopping Harry now.

Harry pulled away, took one last look at Hermione before turning away, and walked down the stairs to the forest. During his way to the Forbidden Forest, nothing but you clouded his mind.

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“Heads up!” Harry heard someone shouted behind him and felt a body jumping on him, he oof-ed as he quickly grabbed the person’s legs, feeling their arms wrapping around his neck. He tilted his head and laughed as he saw you, giggling tremendously.

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” Ron said as he playfully rolled his eyes. Harry and Ron were walking in the hallways to their next class when you had spotted them from afar. Being the ball of energy you are, you hopped on Harry’s back to surprise him. He was definitely surprised, pleasantly even. “Good morning, Ronny!” You chirped as you ruffled the ginger’s hair, receiving a whine of disagreement from the Weasley. They kept on walking, Harry casually giving you a piggyback ride as he walked.

“Hello, handsome,” You whispered to his ear and kissed his cheek, making Harry chuckle with a blush on his cheeks, “Morning, love.”

“Where’s Hermione?” You asked, comfortably resting as Harry carried you, feeling the warmth of his body. Ron glanced at you snuggling on Harry’s shoulders and scoffed, “She’s at the library, studying as always.” You playfully rolled your eyes, “Oh, don’t say you’re jealous of us, Ron! Even so, I wouldn’t mind you being jealous, we are simply very sweet together, isn’t that right, Harry?”

“Yeah, Ron, maybe you can give Hermione a piggyback sometimes if you want it so terribly,” Harry remarked as you two laughed, and Ron flushed a deep red with a quiet, “Sod off, you two.”

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“Harry?” You said as you knocked on the door, worried. As you heard no response, you opened the door, seeing Harry laying on his bed, distressed. You quietly sighed as you walked closer until he noticed you and instantly groaned.

“If you’re here just to be mad at me, then Ron’s already doing it for you, Y/N.” He weakly said, feeling absolutely terrible. Just half an hour ago, he was forced to enter the Triwizard’s Tournament because of that stupid Goblet of Fire choking out his name at the last minute. “No, I’m not mad at you, Harry- why would I be? I’m just… worried about you.” You said quietly, sitting on the corner of his bed just beside his laying state.

Harry tilted his head to you, pursing his lips, “How did you get in here?” You shrugged, “The twins gave a hand if I’m being honest.” He huffed a small smile, “Of course they did.”

“But I’m not here to talk about the twins, Harry. I’m here to talk about you. Are you okay?” You spoke, slowly laying on his bed horizontally with your legs still touching the ground. Harry watched you lay down on his bed across him, he was also laying on his bed horizontally with his legs touching the ground, but in the opposite direction of you. He felt the position was very intimate and close, but Harry didn’t mind.

“… I don’t know, honestly. I didn’t put my name inside that bloody Goblet, and even if I did, I shouldn’t have been accepted, for Merlin’s sake, I’m underage! But Ron here thinks I’m out there hunting for fame again, which I absolutely do not want in the first place! Believe it or not-“

“I believe you, Harry.” Your soft voice took his ramblings to a halt. As he stared into your eyes, he could see the sincerity in your words, and he suddenly realized how pretty your eyes were.

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You were breath-taking. The whole world that was moving around Harry came to a halt as he watched you walked down the stairs in your beautiful outfit. The mustard yellow resembling the color of a sunflower made your skin glowing and if he’s being honest, he had never seen anyone more stunning in his life.

You were smiling at him, and he had never felt gladder asking you out as his date to the Yule Ball. “Hello, Potter.” You said, amused by his bewitched expression. Harry blinked and gave you a baffled smile, “Y-You look great, Y/N.” You shrugged, eyeing his black and white outfit playfully, “Not too bad yourself, Harry.”

He offered you his arm, suddenly remembering what McGonagall taught him a few days prior, “Shall we?” You chuckled at the sudden chivalry, and linked your arm with his, “Lead the way, kind sir.”

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“No, Y/N, I won’t let you!”

Harry had pulled you away from the room full of people to talk to you alone. You sighed as you cupped his face, “Harry, darling, my love, we don’t have much time. The Order needs me to help you.” He shook his head, adamant with his decision, “You don’t know how many Death Eaters are out there, Y/N. What- What if you get hurt? What if you die, just like Sirius? I-I can’t-“

“Harry!” You said loudly, snapping him out of his overthinking rambles. He was looking down, trying hard to control his tears, frowning. “Harry, look at me.” You said softly, he kept his head down.

“Look at me, darling.” You said again, tilting his head so he can see you. His eyes were glassy, he was terrified, and your heart sunk for your lover. He had never wanted all of this attention, yet he had it, and the burden on his shoulders was terribly heavy.

“I am going nowhere. I promise you; I will come home to you safe and sound. I love you, Harry, and I will never, ever leave you.” You pressed word by word slowly, letting him hear every syllable coming out of your mouth.  You engulfed him in a hug, and Harry quietly cried on your shoulders, holding the back of your head tightly. Your body had always managed to keep him warm, and Harry calmed down soon after.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a minute, muttering only loud enough for you to hear, “You better come back to me safely, darling. I love you so much.”

“And I will, Harry.”

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“Hello, handsome.” Harry turned around to see you with a casual, but still pretty outfit. The lilac color looks amazing on you and he smiled fondly, pecking your lips, “Hello, beautiful.”

You smiled brightly at him, “Come on.” He raised his eyebrows at you suddenly pulling him to the dance floor, from a distance, Harry could see Bill and Fleur enjoying their wedding reception, both have a large smile on their faces.

He chuckled at your bright demeanor, “You know I can’t dance, Y/N.” You scrunched your nose and adorably shook your head, “Nonsense, everyone can dance.” He let himself be dragged to the dance floor, glancing at his surrounding, his smile widening at the sight of his two best friends dancing with each other, obvious lovestruck expression hits both of their faces.

“Remember the steps, darling?” Your sweet voice made him turn his attention back to you, his heartwarming and his stiff body eases at the sight of you having a good time. You guided his hand to place itself at your waist, and his other hand intertwined to yours lightly.

“I may have forgotten some steps,” Harry warned, and you laughed loudly making Harry’s heart soar to the sky at the sound of your laugh. As you calmed down, you locked eyes with him, your wide smile reduced to a soft one, “Nothing I couldn’t handle before.”

As you two danced to the slow, elegant beat, Harry had never felt more at peace. With his life constantly on the run, this very moment was worth more than gold to him. “Y/N,” he whispered, his eyes never ran away from you.

“Yes, Harry?” You replied, a smile still plastered on your face. “I know we’re in a middle of a mess right now, and while it doesn’t look like it’s getting any better, I was- uhm- wondering, after all of this, and given the opportunity that we both will still be alive-“ “Which we will,” You interjected, and he huffed a smile, “Which we will,” He repeated, looking bashful.

“Would you like to marry me?”

He watched you scoff in disbelief, your expression etched shock all over. “Oh my goodness, are you literally proposing right now?” You whispered at him, and Harry rolled his eyes playfully, “Obviously, if not I wouldn’t have said that.”

Harry chuckled at your scoffing again, this time it felt playful. Before you could say anything, Harry continued,  “I know we’re both still young and we literally haven’t finished school yet, but I just… I can’t really see myself marrying anyone else but you. You… You light up my life like no other and your hugs are the best and you make me smile whenever you look at me and-“

Harry halted on his ramblings when he realized your eyes were slowly turning glassy. His smile softens and his hand reached to cup your face, “And with you by my side, I have nothing else to wish for. I love you, Y/N, even more than you love me.”

You sniffed, leaning on to his calloused hand and pressed a kiss on it, “You’re not being fair, you know?”

“How so, darling?”

“You’re proposing without a ring, you doofus.” You both chuckled, and Harry leaned in kissing you. You kissed back passionately. The kiss was slow and sensual, both of you wanted to savor this moment. And the moment you pulled away; you gave him a beautiful smile.

“And even without a ring, I would say yes.”

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

Harry had arrived. Already deep inside the forest, his expression was solemn. Harry was numb, he couldn’t feel anything, nothing at all.

Nothing, but the hollowing in his stomach whenever he was reminded of you. He halted on his steps, breathing through his mouth as he looked to his back, the view of almost destroyed Hogwarts was hazy. He looked back to the front, knowing that just a few steps forward, will be Voldemort and his clan, waiting for his arrival.

Harry was reminded of the Snitch inside his pocket, and so he fished it out and watched as the golden carving on the Snitch magically appeared.

‘I Open at the Close’

Harry held out a breath, now understanding the riddle completely. In his mind were flashes of his memories with you, with Ron and Hermione, with the Weasleys, with his family.

And so, with a somehow light heart, Harry said, “I’m ready to die.”

‘If it means that’s what it takes to see you again, then I’m ready, my love.’ Sang his heart quietly. Harry slowly placed the snitch on his lips, closing his eyes as he felt the cold surface touched his skin. As he inched away, the Snitch opens slowly one layer, then two layers, revealing a small diamond-shaped stone.

The small stone was hanging around the air, levitating itself. Harry recognized it; he hadn’t realized he had his breath paused.

“The Resurrection Stone.” He whispered under his breath as he slowly put his open palm under the floating object. He grasped it, and instantly closing his eyes, his mind was fast to imagine several people without him realizing it.

And when he opened his eyes, there they were.

James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus.

Lily was right in front of him. As soon as she reached her arm out, Harry walked closer to her, with his own arm reaching out, desperate to touch his mother he hadn’t seen for many years.

When his own hand went through hers, Harry felt his heart crack for the nth time of the day.

“You’ve been so brave, sweetheart,” Lily’s melodic voice traveled to his ears, and Harry had never realized how much he missed her until he heard her voice. “Why are you here?” He asked, feeling breathless.

“All of you.” Harry turned to his father, James for a moment before turning back to Lily, whose gentle smile never left her lips, “We never left.”

Harry found himself nodding, gulping at the sudden new emotions he had never thought he would feel again once he had seen you at the Hall. His eyes darted to Sirius; his godfather he had tragically lost, and with a shaky voice Harry asked, “Does it… Does it hurt?”

“Dying?”

Sirius’s face was calm. With a casual voice, Harry’s godfather replied with a whisper, “Quicker than falling asleep.”

“You’re nearly there, son,” James voiced out, making Harry turn to him. “I’m sorry. I never wanted any of you to die for me.” Harry spoke heavily, his heart heavy; drenched with overbearing guilt.

“And Remus, your son-“ Harry’s words were cut off by the former professor, “Others will tell him what his mother and father died for. One day, he’ll understand.” Remus’ comforting voice was somber in Harry’s ears. Having nothing to say, Harry turned his attention back to his dear mother, whose smile never left.

And he turned to his father, “You’ll stay with me?”

James looked endearingly to his grown-up son, his smile gently etched on his lips, “Until the end.”

“And he won’t be able to see you?” Harry asked again, the desperate tone in his voice were visible.

“No,” Sirius said, “We’re here, you see,” His hand ghostly reached to Harry’s left chest; his heart. And Harry remembered his words a few years ago, “The ones that love us never really leave us.”

Harry gulped, there was a question itching at the back of his throat. As if knowing what he meant, Lily voiced out, “You’ll see them soon, Harry.”

His head whipped to her, his heartbeat quickening at the mention of you, “What’s that supposed to mean? Where is Y/N? Why aren’t they here?”

“Soon, Harry, soon,” Sirius said, and Harry calmed down. He was aching to see you, even if it was his imagination of you and he couldn’t touch you. He heaved a deep breath, “Stay close to me.”

“Always.”

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

“Harry Potter,” Harry heard the voice of Voldemort saying his name. He had come forward to Voldemort and his clan of Death Eaters, not forgetting to glance at a disheveled Hagrid, who was heartbroken to see the boy he once saved from the Dursleys six years ago had shown up.

“The Boy Who Lived… Come to die.”

Harry was silent, he knew he had no choice as of this moment. The giant snake, Nagini had slithered closer to its master. And Harry watched as Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, aiming at him, and the boy closed his eyes. His lips curled into a little smile, for the last image he saw as he closed his eyes… was you. Smiling.

And with the shout of an Unforgivable Curse recited, coming along with it were glowing colors of green, everything was white.

And Sirius was right.

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

Harry woke up breathing heavily. His first vision was a white ceiling. He quickly stood up and looked at his surroundings.

Everything was white. Everything looks clean and… bright.

Harry turned to his back, suddenly noticing a bench a few steps away from him. It was white and there was something beneath it and-

There was something beneath it.

Without much thinking, Harry walked closer to the creature, his mind running a million questions that had yet to be answered. Harry couldn’t quite see what the creature was, so he crouched down to see and when he did, he flinched away rather quickly.

There, under the bench, was a small human-like creature, hugging itself as if it was shivering from the cold. It’s almost like seeing a small skeleton with just skin, no meat at all, and Harry was baffled as he recognized who the creature resembled like.

Voldemort.

“You can’t help, Harry…“

Harry instantly looked up at the sudden voice. His mouth gaped open at the sight of Professor Dumbledore walking closer to him. “… You wonderful boy, you brave, brave man.” Dumbledore said, a small prideful smile on his lips.

For a moment, Harry was astonished. He had seen this very man before him, get thrown off the Astronomy Tower by none other than Snape himself, and now he’s here, standing before him.

“Let us walk,” Dumbledore said, turning his back to Harry and started walking. Instinctively, Harry followed him with so many questions itching on his throat. He walked as he tilted his head to the bench with the questionable creature underneath.  “Professor, what is that?” He asked, his eyes trained on the creature. Dumbledore turned back too, only to reply, “Something beyond either of our help. A part of Voldemort sent here to die.”

“And exactly where are we?” Harry asked again, and they continued walking. “I was gonna ask you that,” Dumbledore nonchalantly said as he continued, “Where would you say where we are?”

Harry looked around, “Well, it looks like King’s Cross station. Only cleaner,” He paused, ‘So much cleaner it has no color,’ he thought. “… And without all the trains.”

“King’s Cross, is that right?” Dumbledore chimed, “This is, as they say, your party.”

“I expect you now realize that you and Voldemort,” Harry looked up to the tall man, “Have been connected to something other than fate. Since that night at Godric’s Hollow all those years ago.” Dumbledore said solemnly.

“… So it’s true then, sir.”

“A part of him lives within me, doesn’t it?” Harry questioned, and Dumbledore chuckled, “Did.”

“It’s been just destroyed many moments ago by none other than Voldemort himself. You,” Dumbledore paused, looking at the 17-year-old beside him, “Were the Horcrux he never meant to make, Harry.”

As they walked, they came across another bench and Dumbledore decided to sit on it, and Harry followed suit.

“I have to go back, haven’t I?” Harry asked, and Dumbledore quickly replied, “Oh, that’s up to you.”

“I’ve a choice?” “Oh yeah!” The old man chirped, looking around, “We’re in King’s Cross, you say?”

“I think if so decide, you’ll be able to board a train.”

“And where will it take me?” Harry asked again. Dumbledore only chuckles, he turned to look at the young boy before him, “On.”

Dumbledore stood up and began to walk away. Harry was baffled, “Professor!” The man turned around, “Yes?” “Where are you going?” He said, and Dumbledore chuckled yet again, “My time with you is over, boy. That lovely fellow wants to talk to you now. Very impatient, they were.”

Dumbledore nodded to something behind him, and Harry had never turned around so quickly. He was breathless, he had never thought he would feel his heartbeat increasing again, but it did.

Because it was you.

You were wearing a simple white outfit, if anything it was the simplest outfit he had seen you in. But you managed to look ethereal to him, never less resembling an angel from the Heaven itself. If so, more beautiful than an angel.

“Missed me, Potter?” You said with a bright smile. Harry couldn’t say anything, he was dumbfounded and he couldn’t even utter a word.

So he engulfed you in a hug tightly.

“Oof! Now that’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?” You teased, chuckling at your boyfriend hugging the life out of you. Well, if you had any more to spend anyway. Regardless of the tease, you hugged him back just as tight. Just when you hugged him back, Harry’s knees turned weak and you slowly guided him down to sit on the floor, still hugging the boy you love with all your heart.

Just then, Harry who had been quiet for a moment broke a sob.

You etched a sad smile on your lips, caressing the back of his head the way he liked it, “… I shook you too much, didn’t I?”

Harry couldn’t say anything, he dug his face into the crook of your neck, crying loudly without any embarrassment now, “I’m- I’m sorry, Y/N… This-This is all my fault you shouldn’t- you shouldn’t have to-“

“Hey, hey… “ You cooed, softly pulling away from him so you could wipe away his tears. “Shh… Stop blaming yourself, darling. It’s a war, and a war isn’t your fault, Harry.” You softly said, reaching in to kiss both of his eyes.

“I’m so tired, Y/N… I’m so tired…” Harry whimpered, more tears rolling down like a broken dam. He had lost you a few hours ago, but he felt like he had lost you for years.

“Let-Let me stay with you, Y/N, please…” Harry softly begged, his face was cupped with your hands. You felt your heartbreak at the vulnerability he shown you. While it wasn’t the first time Harry had been vulnerable in front of you, this time it was completely different.

“While that isn’t such a bad offer, the war isn’t over, Harry. If there’s anyone who could kill Voldemort, then it’s you, darling.” Despite your tries on convincing him, Harry shook his head, “I don’t want to be the Chosen One anymore! I’m so tired… of everything… I lost my parents, I lost Sirius and now I lost you! I have no one else to live for, Y/N…”

He leaned his head into the crook of your neck, and you two sat there quietly, your fingers playing softly with his neat brown locks.

You shook your head, “You know that’s not true, Harry. Ron and Hermione are still out there, waiting for you. Fred and George too, once they’ve stopped crying over me, that is,” You chuckled, and Harry felt his lips curled up a bit, his eyes slowly closing at the sound of your voice gently lullabying him to sleep.

“And Molly and Arthur… And Ginny, and you know, the rest of Hogwarts.” Harry softly kissed your neck, snuggling a bit further into your neck, your head gently leaning on his, “But I’ve got nothing to kill him with… Voldemort has the Elder Wand… and the snake is still alive.” He softly said, his urge to cry had lessened as he found warmth and comfort being with you, as always.

It pained him a bit that, this could be the last time he could feel you.

“You saw Professor Dumbledore just now, right?” You felt him nod and you smiled, “Well, he told me this before we went to meet you, just in case you’re feeling helpless. Which you are,” You both chuckled.

“Help will always be given at Hogwarts, to those who deserve it. And he said…” You trailed off, noticing Harry’s breaths got gentler and his head felt heavy on your crook of neck. You smiled sadly, kissing his forehead softly, lingering there for a while to cherish the moment.

“And he said what..?” Harry asked slowly, his eyes slowly felt heavy, your heartbeat was gentle, and he felt so calm. He smiled softly at the feeling of your lips on his forehead, “And he said… Do not pity the dead. Pity the living… And above all, all those who live without love.” You finished, your voice was slowly volumed down to a whisper.

“Y/N…” Harry mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling his consciousness slowly slipping away, “Is this all real? Or is it just happening inside my head?”

You chuckled at his question, “Why, of course, it’s happening inside your head, Harry…”  You trailed off, feeling that your short time with Harry is about to end by the looks of him slowly slipping into sleep, “Why should that mean, that it’s not real?”

Harry was asleep now, and right before he went unconscious, his ears heard the last words you said to him, “In another life, I would be your love, Harry. We’d keep all our promises, and it’ll only be us against the world…”

“I love you, always and forever, my darling.”

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

The rest came out as a blur. Harry had killed Voldemort, with the help from Neville who slashed the giant snake with the sword of Gryffindor, and the war was finally… over.

While Harry was glad that the war was over, he couldn’t feel happy. He still lost you. He had lost a lot of people, and sometimes Harry wondered if their deaths were even worth it.

Two weeks after the Second Wizarding War had ended, was your funeral. Everyone was there, the professors, your friends, your family, even some house elves to pay their respects. Harry was- unfortunately- in charge of doing a speech at your funeral, and he despised it, even when he felt the need to do so, nevertheless.

There he was, standing on a podium, looking to the crowd who had come for you. “Hello everyone, thank you so much for coming today.” He started, the nervousness inside of him was astounding.

“As you all know, Y/N and I have a very special relationship. Almost everyone in Hogwarts knows how close we were, platonically and romantically. Y/N was my best friend, my lover, and I could bravely say, the one who I could see spending the rest of my life with.”

Sad smiles spread across the room, and Harry couldn’t help but etch a sad smile to himself.

“Y/N died saving lives and defeating the bad, and the fact that they did it with no hesitation speaks volumes of their personality. Y/N was brave, kind-hearted, humorous, and humble. They were fierce, and they knew when to stand up for what’s right and say what was wrong. Y/N was simply… amazing.”

Hermione was already crying on Ron’s shoulder and Fred was looking down guiltily. Harry sighed quietly, he had told Fred it was none of his fault that Y/N died, but he still blamed himself for it.

“And being the amazing person they are, they wouldn’t want us to blame ourselves. They wouldn’t want us to feel bad for them, they would want us to smile whenever we remember our moments with them.” Harry said, trying to calm himself down as he felt a lump on his throat starting to grow.

“I remember a quote from my late godfather, Sirius Black, a few years ago. He said,” Harry paused, clearing his throat to ease the dull aching in his heart.

“The ones that love us never really leave us. And you can always find them…” Harry brought his hand to his heart, smiling with glassy eyes, “In here.”

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

It was hard.

It was hard to live without you.

He would wake up screaming during the middle of the night, the memories of him finding you in the Great Hall had rewinded inside his dreams every single night. While staying together with the Weasleys at the Burrow helped him a lot with his recovery, the nightmares had become so constant that Ron had to cast a ‘Muffliato’ charm to their shared bedroom every night to not disturb anyone else.

And being the great friend he is, Ron would always wake up and comfort Harry, lending him his shoulder when Harry needed to cry. He would accompany Harry to the kitchen, to get a mug of warm tea and talk about the dream, or in some days, just sit together quietly at the patio, watching the sun rises as it does every day.

Every morning as Molly walked down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, she wouldn’t forget to see Harry and Ron already being there, talking to each other quietly. And she wouldn’t forget to kiss their heads along with a motherly ‘Good Morning’ each time before she started. They would accompany her while she cooks, sometimes Harry would lend her a hand to make himself busy.

A few weeks into their routine, Fred slowly joins them in.

The first time Molly walked down and expected two heads already in the kitchen but came to see three, Molly had engulfed Fred in a tight hug as she cried on his chest. She kissed his cheeks repeatedly afterward, receiving a playful groan from Fred and chuckles from her two other sons.

A day at the Burrow was never dull. There was always something to do. Cleaning the house, de-gnoming the garden, feeding the pigs and cows, cleaning the barn, watering the flowers, fixing the leaking ceilings, and Harry’s favorite, playing Quidditch at the front yard.

Sometimes he would join the twins and Ginny, sometimes he would sit back and watch the game, and sometimes he would just stay in his room, watching the game from the window.

When those days came, he would spend the entire time reliving his memories with you. Harry could remember the first few weeks when he stayed at the Burrow; he went into a panic attack when he realized he had forgotten some of his memories with you. He felt like he couldn’t breathe then, he felt his chest constricting his lungs. Molly had to brew him a heavy calming potion to stop him from wailing your name with tears strolling down his face.

Ever since that incident, Harry had kept every single memory he had with you into tubes, his memories forming into glowing blue strings with the help of his wand. He had the tubes labeled, every single one of them.

‘Y/N riding a broom at First Year’

‘First Hogsmeade Date’

‘Yule Ball’

‘Christmas at the Burrow’

‘First Kiss’

‘Our Last Hug’

Harry had thought the action was too much, but he couldn’t help it. Even if his lips were smiling and his eyes were crinkling in laughter, he found himself missing you at every second. The Weasleys had become his family for years at this point, and the Burrow had become his home.

But somehow, only you and he knew your true homes are each other.

During Christmas, Andromeda Tonks would come by with little Teddy, Harry’s godson. While Andromeda would spend time with Arthur and Molly, Harry would spend as much time as he could with Teddy. He finds himself and Teddy to be very similar, losing their parents at a young age.

And Harry had sworn to himself not to let Teddy relive the life he once had before Hogwarts. In some way, he had seen Teddy as your honorary replacement. While nothing could ever replace you in his life; he had sworn the first and last person he’d propose to be you, Teddy filled his heart like no other.

Before he knew it, Harry had reached his 20s. He had grown significantly better from mourning you every second to smiling gently whenever your name was mentioned. He moved away from the Burrow, purchasing a cottage at Godric’s Hollow with the money he was inherited, with Ron as his housemate.

“Uncle Harry! Wake up, wake up, wake up!” Harry groaned as a tiny body jumped on his bed, disrupting his sleep. He sleepily looked at the alarm clock, groaning once again at the little child he had agreed to stay with him over the summer, “Teddy, it’s 8 am, let Uncle Harry sleep…”

He heard the five-year-old whine in disagreement, “But Uncle Harry! You promised me we could go to Uncle Fred and Uncle George’s shop today!” Harry oof-ed as Teddy jumped on his body, sprawling on him, the little’s tousled hair glowed bright ginger.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, hugging the child on his chest playfully, “What I promised was we’ll go to the shop after we visited St. Mungos to visit Uncle Fred’s new-born baby, Teddy.”

The boy pouted, “The same thing… Ooh! Can we have pancakes?” Teddy was fast to change the subject, and Harry laughed in amusement. He sat up, still hugging the little boy, and kissed him on the cheek, “Alright, alright. Let me shower first. Wait- Where’s Uncle Ron?”

“Aunt Hermione had come over early to steal him away. She said she wants to have a breakfast date with him.” Teddy said innocently and Harry rolled his eyes, “Of course she did.”

“Oh, Uncle Harry?” Teddy chirped, following Harry here and there across the cottage like a baby duck. “Yes, Teddy?” Harry replied, drinking from a bottle of water stored in the fridge.

“I tinkled the bed again.”

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

“Oh Harry, it’s so nice to see you after so long!” Molly gushed and gave him a warm hug as Harry and Teddy arrived in St. Mungos by the Floo Powder. Harry smiled warmly at the woman, “I’ve missed you too, Molly.”

Everyone was there, even Ron and Hermione. “Really, Mione? The least you could do is tell me.” Harry chuckled as he came over to hug the girl who laughed slightly. “Well I did, I told Teddy to tell you.” She said, hugging the little boy hello afterward.

George then appeared from the ward, “Come on lads, the baby’s awake now.”

The group walked into the private ward Fred had arranged for his wife. He had met her when she first moved into Diagon Alley, with her flower shop just across the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes about a year ago. Fred found comfort in her immediately, you could say it was love at first sight for both of them.

In an instant, there were coos and awes spreading across the ward. In Fred’s arm, was a baby bundled up in purple cloth with a beanie on its head, eyes were blinking slowly, and a tiny hand was holding Fred’s index finger. Right beside him, was his wife sitting up on the bed, looking rightfully exhausted.

“Oh, Fred, the baby’s lovely!” Fleur gushed as she hugged Fred’s wife hello. The woman was beautiful, black long hair with a striking pair of hazel eyes. If Harry had remembered correctly, her name was Lara.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Ron asked, and Fred gently smiled, his eyes never left his precious child, “It’s a girl.”

Fred softly removed the beanie from his daughter’s head, and the crowd’s smile widened at the sight of the famous ginger hair. “At least we know she’s really a Weasley now,” George joked, and they chuckled.

“Uncle Harry, up, up,” Teddy said as he lifted his arms to Harry, and Harry lifted him to let him see. Teddy saw the baby, and her striking orange hair, he giggled and without him knowing, his hair turned to ginger as well.

They laughed again, and Harry playfully gasped, “Teddy’s a Weasley? Oh my,” He said, tickling the child’s belly, and Teddy giggled.

“Wanna know what her name is?” Fred asked, and attention went to him again. “Hurry up then, don’t leave us hanging,” Ginny remarked playfully, expecting Fred to roll his eyes but instead, his smile widened.

“Everybody, please welcome, my daughter; Charlotte Y/N Weasley.”

Harry snapped his eyes from the baby to Fred, and the tall ginger sent him a knowing smile with tear-filled eyes. “Fred had wanted to name her Y/N for a while now, he said they saved his life.” Lara softly said, speaking for her husband.

The crowd was quiet until Molly came forward and hugged her son, “I love it,” She whispered, fearing if her voice got any louder, the trembling in it would sound so loud.

“This way, they’ll be with us, always.” Fred huffed laughter, trying so hard not to cry. Harry had mirrored his expression; tears were starting to fill his eyes. “I feel like Charlotte’s not going to be her name around the house now,” Hermione said, chuckling as she wiped the happy tears away.

Ron snickered, “Bet Charlotte’s her middle name now,” And the crowd erupted in laughter. Harry couldn’t laugh, his eyes were trained to the new-born whose name is now after you.

“What do you think, Harry?” Fred asked, smiling knowingly at the longing expression Harry had.

Harry was feeling a lot of things. It has been more than 3 years since you passed, and he hadn’t forgotten you ever since. He had told Teddy fun facts about you ever since the summer started, and he had seen you in his dreams smiling lately. For some reason, he didn’t feel sad at all, he was elated at the sight of young Charlotte Y/N in front of him.

Already knowing that she’s going to grow up as an amazing person, he gave Fred a bright smile as he said,

“She’s wonderful.”

[liyuesbian]

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

[nonbinaryspacegoo]

the sudden reawakening of my special interest in portal has yet to die down and i am full of Thoughts

specifically im full of Thoughts about a core!chell and human!wheatley au

so uuhhh

portal 1:

* glados boots up the Test Core (Chell) and releases her into the test chamber, you know the drill

* eventually glados decides that this isnt all that interesting and goes to incinerate the core, only for said core to, against all odds, make a daring escape off her management rail and through a hole in the wall

* determined that no tech in HER facility will defy her, glados attempts to hunt the rogue ai down but the fact that chell was outfitted with a portal device attached to her hull makes it bizarrely hard

* somehow the little bastard makes it all the way to glados' chamber and takes her out but not before having her portal device removed and incinerated, and being shut down (for now!)

portal 2:

* chell is powered on after she is assigned to caring for sleeping test subjects. too bad theyre almost all dead

* chell goes through the survivors, waking them up and trying to help them through the test chambers to help her find her portal device and make her escape to the surface. they keep dying on her which is...less than ideal, but she Perseveres and eventually comes to her Lucky test subject, Wheatley [redacted]

* hes chatty, and his testing and puzzle solving techniques are strange and often involve breaking things, but chells a results kinda core and hes gotten further than any other human so who is she to question his methods

* he manages to find her a Personality Core Hull Attached Portal Device and attach it to her and they move on together

* eventually they come to the end of her management rail and she communicates that she wants him to catch her. there are two options for this: 1. he does manage to catch her in his arms and is promptly knocked to the ground under her not insignificant weight and velocity and gets to lie winded on the ground with a metal orb on his chest and a nose bleed. or 2. (bastard addition) he realises at the last second that Hey Thats A Big Metal Ball, gets war flashbacks to high school soccer practice, and promptly jumps back, letting chell hit the ground

* either way they move on glados' old chamber and wheatley openly wonders who finally took her down. they make it to the control panel and wheatley plugs her in. now either chell activating the lights or him hitting buttons at random boots up glados

* wheatley attempts to talk his way out but glados is much more interested in the little core who fucking MURDERED HER

* wheatley attempts to bargain for his freedom ("well i see you two have some history, how about you just pop me up to the surface and ill let you two catch up. (possible further dialogue depending on how much of a bastard you like your wheatleys) or maybe you should um, send her with me, i mean, seems reeeaaalllyy dangerous, and im sure youd want her far FAR away from you. so you could just... hand her over, send us to the surface, and we'll both be gone Forever, never have to worry about her coming for you ever again"

* glados informs him that since hes awake and gotten this far, though shes "sure the Testing Core did all the real work", he can start testing while she deals with this rogue (insert musing about how to make an AIs death as painful as possible here)

* at this moment chell manages to wrench herself free of the claw that was holding her and makes another bid for freedom. (she either 1. slips through another well-placed hole in the floor or 2. is quickly crushed and her lifeless body is tossed away as glados laments how easy she got off before turning her attention back on wheatley. either way she tosses him into a test chamber to get started

* wheatley goes through several tests before engaging an aerial faith plate only to spot chell, after several jumps he manages to get the gist of what shes trying to tell him (shes alive and shes going to get him out of there, just keep testing)

* chell does just that, busting her human out and taking off together

* wheatley comes up with a plan to take her down and they do it

* they manage to install chell as the new chasis. not sure what she does with glados but i am feeling wheatley kicks her severed head at one point

* now theres a few versions i can think of

1. chell betrayal: chell makes wheatley test instead of releasing him

2. wheatley is forced to sit around waiting for chell to try and find a way to get both of them out and many nasty words are said

3. wheatley betrayal: wheatley pulls some fuckery to try and ditch the core and send himself to the surface, or even shut the whole facility down, or maybe control the place through chell, either way its a bastard move.

* idk what happens after that part thats all i got plotwise lol

but here are a few little tidbits on core!chell

* she was built to keep glados entertained by running tests

* she does love doing puzzles and pushing herself but she does NOT care for being put down and the constant threat of death or dismemberment and she certainly doesnt care for people trying to kill her

* someone told her that there was a whole world outside the facility (im thinking glados, as a way to taunt her with the fact that shed never see it) and now she wants OUT

* does not speak. at all. ever. she has a vocal processor and should be able to but she doesn't

* based on how some people will "nod" and "shake their head" by jiggling the camera up and down or side to side, or jump to express their feelings while playing, i headcanon that she communicates via expression (as best a core can), lots of wiggling, pointedly looking between items of interest, and spinning

* heavier than most cores because she was built to withstand an absolute beating, with thicker plates and so on

* very impatient, very smart. surprisingly expressive, and can be pretty affectionate when things are going well

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Dead Man’s Deal

Pairing: Ehh I mean, Alfonse x reader, Lif x reader but. well you’ll see.

Description: There wasn’t enough time. There was nothing you could do to stop Hel’s onslaught. Hel, Lif, Thrasir-- all of them were far too powerful. Everyone you loved, everyone you cared for. Heroes, allies, friends... all gone. Yet you remain. For what?

Rating: sfw

Tags: Mention of death (a lot, this is Hel), major character death, mentions of blood

Word Count: 1385

Notes: So I was trying to open a different Lif wip because like I always have one of these fuckers floating around (can’t help myself, I guess?) and I saw this and I was like, what the hell is that? So I opened it and read it and I was like fuck did I never post this? So I checked, and looks like I didn’t lmao. So if I remember correctly I wrote this... probably around this time last year? And had the intentions to make it multichaptered but like... ehh, idk about that now. Still, it is a finished piece, so I fixed it up and figured I would share it with everyone!

~*~

You wanted to say he was merciless yet here you were, life spared. You daresay in even perfect health but the sights before you beg to differ, tearing at your sanity. Perhaps even, there was kindness left in him, letting you mourn before he did… whatever it was he planned. Why was it that only you were left alive? Currently, if there was anything to think about, you wouldn’t be able to do so anyways; your mind in too much chaos to do much else but cry.

“Alfonse...” You whispered his name oh so carefully, the word hardly able to pass your lips as they curled back in utter despair. Still, despite the tears falling down your face, and the sobs threatening to rack your body, the words were soft. So soft, in fact, Alfonse could barely hear them. But when it came to his dear Summoner, his ears were always open.

“Don’t… cry...” Somehow, he raised a bloodied hand to cup your cheek, thumb moving to wipe away tears in a fruitless endeavor. “I promise, I’ll always be with you _____...” His words were whispers as well but not on purpose. Even now his breathing was shallow. You both knew the inevitable was going to happen. You went on pretending it wouldn’t.

“I’m so sorry...” You choked out the words. “I should have been there to help you, to stop him, do anything…!” Your words grew more loud and desperate until at the end you were crying into his chest, uncaring about the blood on him. “Alfonse, what will I do without you all? I’m alone in this world now…” Even as he lay dying in your arms, words hesitated on your lips.

“You’re never alone if you have Breidablik….” The weapon you had carelessly cast aside was now put into your shaking hand, and your fingers curled around its patterns. “We may be gone… but this isn’t over.” You were crying harder now. How could you do this now? How would you do this without him?

“I love you...” Your words tumbled out of your mouth, sad, desperate, pleading, as if the phrase could somehow save Alfonse.

“I love you too.” Somehow, Alfonse manged to smile, hiding any pain he was feeling in his low voice. “But I need you…. To be strong, okay…?” He looked up at you for the last time he ever would, trying to cast that image to memory. Even covered in his blood, and your face tear stained, you mustered a smile for him. He was glad for it. As he closed his eyes for the last time, he felt your lips gingerly touch his. He was thankful for the comfort you brought him as he passed-- only regretting he couldn’t do more for you as well.

You didn’t know for how you long remained there, crying on to the corpse of the man you loved. Was it mere seconds, minutes? Did you remain here for hours, cursing Hel for what she brought upon Askr and crying tears that could not bring back the lives of the dead? You knew not. Eventually, your tears dried not because you had no more to cry but because you lacked the energy to do so. Blankly now, you looked to Alfonse-- only still warm because you refused to let him go. You dare not even think to look of the corpses of your allies all around you.

In the encroaching silence threatening to take over now, you heard foot steps; they weren’t bothering to try and hide themselves, you noted, but whoever was coming this way was naturally light on their feet.

“Have you finally come to kill me too?” Your words were weak, barely above a murmur. You didn’t bother to look up from Alfonse, hand even coming up to brush some strands of hair away from his eyes.

“No… not you. Not ever.” Lif watched you cling to the corpse of another Alfonse so gingerly; his heart ached, longing for a touch he had long been denied. “You, my own Summoner… You’re different. Hel can’t bring you back.” Lif moved and slowly, you raised your head, looking up at him with hooded eyes to see his still very much dead hand offered before you. He dare offer you his hand, when it was he who brought this ruin upon everyone you love?

“You think I would ever go with you? After all you’ve done?” You could tell your words stung him, as surprising as it was to admit but the evidence was clear in his eyes.

“Hel wants you dead. Currently, you’re the only one alive who can kill her.” Lif didn’t mince his words, hand still waiting in the air between you. “As far as she’s concerned you are dead.” Eyes narrowing a bit, he continued. “You’ll only be safe with me _____.” He said your name as if he had so many times before. He likely had, knowing how you and Alfonse felt for one another… Lif likely felt the same for his Summoner, perhaps had been the one to die once and be held much like this… It wasn’t enough to gain your sympathy though.

You wanted to spit the words you were thinking at him, but you hesitated. Looking up at him, you knew he was right; by yourself, you didn’t stand a chance against Hel. But you doubted you could count Lif among your allies… “Why… should I trust you? After all this?” You swore you saw that wicked mask he wore turn a crooked smile.

“You don’t really have another choice.” His hand remained in the air between you, unwavering. “It’s either you come with me, willing or not, or you stay here, left at Hel’s mercy… And I know neither of us want that.” You didn’t want to leave Alfonse. It felt wrong to stand and leave with the man who took his last breath… but what choice did you have?

Your eyes left Lif, and returned to Alfonse, hoping that the would snap open and you would see his blue gaze you missed so much. “I… can’t leave him like this.” Your voice was soft, your hand cupping his cooling cheek. You didn’t know what else to do, what else to say, helplessly looking to a man who could no longer give you an answer. Lif couldn’t tell you how strange it felt, to be jealous of a lifeless corpse. To be so jealous of a version on himself that lost…

“You must.” If Lif we’re being honest, he would have liked a proper burial, for everyone here… Alfonse included. But Hel wouldn’t have that. Soon enough they would all be part of her army. Lif had little time to get you out of here and to safety. Voice softer now, he spoke again “_____ I know just as well how hard it is to move on when you’ve lost everyone you love and I know even better how vile it feels to side with the person with brought that defeat. But you are left with no other choice.” He moved his hand a little closer to you now, urging you silently to take it.

You didn’t speak but you gaze did turn to him; to his face, as impasse as always, to his outstretched hand, unwavering as he waited for you to take it with your own. “What do you know of my loss? These people were all I had-- all I’ve ever known in this world. You? You had your chance to get them back, and you won. What do I have to cling to, then?” Lif was left with no answer and surprise yet as you got up slowly, sure to rest Alfonse carefully on the ground, and slapped his hand away. “I’ll tell you what-- I’ll have my own revenge.” Your eyes were burning now, an anger Lif was sure he had never seen in you before. “So take me away if you desire, Lif; know that I have my own agenda, though.” Lif nodded, barely acknowledging you but surprised to see you so firey already. Wordlessly, he began to walk away. You followed with little hesitation.

Even if it was for all the wrong reasons, Lif was happy to finally have you at his side again.

[i-write-about-anything]

Baby Daddies Part 30

Requested: idk why but i’m having some serious baby fever. could you something with a character(s) of your choosing with kids that’s super fluffy and amazing like the rest of your writing?

(you have two children with two different baby daddies lol bye)

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x Reader, Issac Lahey x Reader

Series Masterlist

“What do you mean her body is missing?” Noah spoke, his eyes shifting from his son to Melissa.  

“I mean when we checked the morgue, she wasn’t there. Checked the cameras, no one came in or out.” Melissa sighed and looked at Stiles, his head dropped low. He didn’t know what to do, what to think. For Stiles (y/n) was gone, too far gone to be saved now.  

“You mean to tell me that her body just went and disappeared?” Noah sighed and Melissa nodded before looking at Stiles.

“That’s exactly what I mean. We’ve looked everywhere, I know this is the last thing I would ever want to tell you.” She placed her hand on her forehead as she began to pace the small hallway.  

“What do we do?” Stiles’ voice was low. There was no way he was going to get hopes that his fiancé upped and walked away. “We can’t just stand here and wait around, the faster we find her the faster we can lay here to rest like she deserves.” Stiles wiped his face, of course the tears hadn’t stopped. The ringing of Noah’s cellphone cut him off before he could answer his son.  

“I need to take this.” Noah looked down at the phone that displayed Parrish’s name before walking out of the hospital’s sliding doors. “Talk to me, did you get him?”  

“Sherriff,” Parrish sighed. “He’s not well.”  

“What do you mean he’s not well? What the hell is going on Parrish.” Noah hissed into the phone as Parrish looked at Isaac who sat with his back against the tree and his head in his hands, blood spilling from the gash in his arm.  

“He wasn’t running from us Sherriff; he was running from her.” Jordan gulped, he’d seen her, he knew he had.  

“From who Parrish?” Noah’s heartbeat increased.  

“(Y/N).” Jordan swallowed as he continued to look at Isaac. “She’s not herself, I’m almost certain this isn’t her but it looked just like her. She injured him and he’s not healing. She ran off before I could go after her.”  

“Look, keep this on the downlow, the last thing I need is for my son to try to chase after her, if it’s even her. Bring Isaac to the station, we’ll see what he can tell us.”  

“He hasn’t done much talking sir.” Parrish nudges Isaac’s leg. “Hasn’t moved as much either.”  

“Just bring him in Parrish, I'll see you there.” Noah sighed and hung up the phone before running his hand over his face. The supernatural had a way of fucking up everyone’s life. All he wanted was to let his son grief, the loss of a significant other was like no other. It's like a piece of yourself gets torn away from you and there’s no getting it back. Noah knew too much about how that felt.  

“Dad?” Stiles’ voice cracked, he hated seeing his son so broken, he’d seen him like this before, when his mother had died. “What’s going on?” Noah shook his head and motioned for him to come closer to him.  

“Nothing you need to worry about, let’s get you back home, yeah? I need to head into the office.” Stiles didn’t say a word, instead he followed his father to his truck, climbing in and closing the door. He immediately put his head in his hands, he hadn’t had much sleep and he was beginning to feel it. The drive back to the Stilinski residence wasn’t long, before Stiles knew it he was sitting in his dad’s couch, Scott next to him as he handed him his son.  

“Daddy?” Peter whispered; he’d never seen his father like this which only scared him.

“Hey buddy.” Stiles’ whispered out giving his son a small kiss on the forehead.  

“Where’s mommy?” Stiles gulped as he fought to keep his tears in. Stiles shook his head and hugged his son closer. “I want to see mommy.” Stiles shook his head and looked at Scott for help, he didn’t know what to tell his son.  

“Hey buddy, remember you were going to tell you dad about the race car aunt Lydia bought you?” Scott asked Peter as his small eyes lit up at the thought of the small toy. He wiggled out of Stile’s lap and ran up the stairs. “He’s going to be okay.” Scott whispered looking at the direction that Peter had ran off to.  

“But I'm not.” Stiles’ voice cracked and Scott snapped his head towards his best friend. “I can’t live without her.” Stiles words caught Scott’s heart and when he saw the tears running down his best friend’s face, he brought him into a hug.  

“You’re not going to do this alone; I’m always going to be here for you Stiles. You’re my best friend, she was my best friend.” Scott sniffed as he tightened his arms around Stiles who sobbed into his chest. “Everything is going to be okay, maybe not now but it will be.” Scott sighed and closed his eyes. He hadn’t grieved his friend's death just yet, he wanted to be strong but time was running out and his heart wasn’t going to last much longer. They sat there for what seemed like hours; Peter hadn’t returned which is what caused Stiles to pull away from his friend.  

“Peter?” Stiles called out as his voice cracked once more. When there was silence Stiles shot up from the couch and took the stairs to at a time. “Peter?” Stiles repeated as he opened the door to his old bedroom.  

“Shhh.” Amy shushed Stiles as she put her index finder to her lips. Stiles gulped watching as she wrapped her arms around her little brother. She placed a kiss on his forehead as he slept. “Peter was tired.” She simply said as she laid her head back down on the pillow. Stiles moved towards his kids taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to Amy.  

“You okay honey?” Stiles whispered not wanting his daughter to hear the heartbreak in his voice. She simply nodded and closed her eyes, tears slipping from them only moments after. “Hey, hey, sweetheart.” Stiles sighed as he placed his hand on her head. “Come here.” Stiles tugged on her slightly before she unwrapped her arms from her brother and moved to Stiles’ lap. He hugged her into her chest and sighed as he placed a kiss on her head. “Everything is going to be okay.” Stiles whispered as he moved his legs onto the bed letting his back rest on the headrest of the bed. She sobbed silently clutching onto Stiles’ shirt. “It’s okay honey, it’s okay.” Stiles repeated as he stroked Amy’s hair. And at that moment Stiles knew that he had to press pause on his own feelings and worry about his kids. He’d still cry, no doubt about it, but not in front of them, no, in front of them he’d be the rock they needed, the parent they needed. Just like his father had done for him those years ago.  

_____

“Isaac!” Noah yelled as he snapped his fingers in front of his face.  

“He’s not looking so hot.” Liam spoke. Isaac was pale, his eyes red rimmed as tears rolled down them. He hadn’t said a word in the thirty minutes he was there and it looked like he wasn’t going to either.  

“Maybe we should get him checked out?” Parrish looked at Noah who shook his head.  

“This is the guy who killed the mother of my grandchildren, he could all but die for all I care.” Noah spat before Liam nodded in agreement.  

“Please.” Isaac whispered causing all three heads to snap his way. Isaac’s eyes met Noah’s a silent plea in them. Isaac loved (y/n), more than he’d ever admit. He wasn’t himself; he could admit that only a portion that attacked her was him, the rest was something else he couldn’t understand himself. He’d woken up in the middle of the night hearing her whispers as she taunted him about being with Stiles which only made the anger in him boil. “Please.” He repeated. He knew he was on his last few breaths, he’d want to die, for killing the love of his life, for killing the mother of his daughter. He wanted nothing more than to die but something in him wanted to fight to stay alive. To figure out why he’d been compelled to turn his back on her, to figure out why she stood before him when only hours ago her lifeless body was in the hospital bed getting rolled out to the morgue.  

“Deaton.” Liam spoke when no one else spoke. He wanted nothing more than to let Isaac die but he needed to know what he knew, if (y/n) was really alive and if she was why was she going after Isaac with a vendetta when (y/n) would have been with her family if she were alive. “We can take him to Deaton and then we can find out what he knows.” Liam looked at Noah who sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  

“Fine, but then we’re either locking him up or letting him succumb to the injuries.” Noah grabbed his jacket from his chair and moved to his door not looking back as Jordan and Liam helped Isaac to his feet.  

Minutes later they walked into Deaton’s clinic, his eyes scanning Isaac as they stopped at the gash on his arm. “That’s a nasty cut.” He stated as Liam threw Isaac on the table.  

“Can you help him?” Liam sighed and Deaton’s eyebrows narrowed.

“I had the impression Isaac was a dead man walking, kind of like he is now?” He looked at Noah who shook his head.  

“He has information we need; can you help him or not?” Noah rolled his eyes, he wanted nothing more than to kill Isaac right now. Deaton nodded and proceeded to take a look at Isaac’s arm.  

“How did you get this Isaac?” Deaton inspected it before grabbing a book from one of his cabinets.  

“He won’t talk, but my guess is (y/n) did this. I saw her before she took off.” Parrish crossed his arms over his chest.  

“(Y/N)?” Deaton’s head snapped to Parrish. “Are you sure it was her?”  

“It was her.” Isaac spoke lowly and Deaton swallowed before he grabbed a jar with a green powder in it.  

“What’s that?” Parrish spoke.  

“It’ll help stop whatever it’s spreading through him so I can figure out why this is terribly bad. If (y/n) did this I'm afraid she’s not the (y/n) you used to know.” He flipped through the book and looked at Isaac. “What’d she look like?”  

“Like herself.” Isaac stared at the wall as Deaton continued to spill things into his arm. “Like she did the day at the hospital, completely broken.” Isaac coughed out.  

“What do you think doc?” Noah spoke biting his lip.  

“Looks like he’ll be fine, whatever she did to him isn’t permeant. However, the wound does look like it to be one from a wendigo.” Deaton spoke as he flipped the book.  

“A wendigo?” Parrish questioned. “Would that give her the ability to disappear too?”  

“What do you mean?” Deaton looked back at Isaac.

“I mean like poof disappear into thin air.” Parrish wiggled his fingers.  

“I’m afraid not, Isaac did you see (y/n) do this?” Isaac shook his head.  

“No, I saw her running to me, I thought I was losing my mind, that she was in my head.” Isaac closed his eyes. “Thought my mind was playing some awful trick on me but then I felt it and when I looked back, she was there, so I ran.” Isaac shook his head.  

“Then I found him running.” Parrish stepped forward. “She disappeared the moment I laid my eyes on her.” Deaton shook his head.  

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Noah sighed. The room went silent as Deaton continued to flip through pages, his eyes scanning the words as he thought of what it could have been.

“It wasn’t me.” A whisper in the room caused everyone to snap their heads to the main entrance.  

“Who the fuck said that?” Liam gulped looking around the room.  

“Me.” A flicker of light lid up Deaton’s office before a cry erupted from Isaac. “It wasn’t me.” (Y/N) spoke lowly as she stood in front of the four men, their eyes widening as they took a step back from her. 

______

story tags; @beaiiir

forevertags; @bojabee@imperfect-circle@dakotapaigelove@a-gir1-has-n0-name@riverdalehoeeeeeee@sabertooth-potato@heyitscam99@peterstarksstarker@royal-fanfic@vixengustin88

[anthonyed]

Kissing prompts (gosh, i love em all): 45 and buckytony?

The only thing that came into my mind when I read the prompt was: 'losing you would be my villain story' trope. So remember that ficlet where Tony was scared to hug Bucky cause he won't be able to let go? Well this is from that verse. And  I tried my best to execute it (don't know if I succeeded) and here it is:

idk how part of my reply got injected into the ask box but the link in there is click-able for the verse of the following story.

(from this list: Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.)

tw: blood, violence, mentions of body mutilation (basically a decapitated head that’s all)

-//-

Bucky’s already in the cradle when he lands; still clad in armour from neck down and he heads straight to where Helen Cho stands, manning the machine. 

“Talk to me.” He orders, not bothering with manners, voice still battle-strained and he’d apologize to her later, buy her a bouquet or something but for now -

“How is he?”

Cho looks ill when she smiles, mouth working around dull words; if she was going for reassurance, it sure looks terrible on her face. 

“Pending on the prognosis. Multiple organ laceration; I just drained his pericardial sac and stabilised his heart -,”

Tony grabs her by the shoulders, he doesn’t want to hear what more medical words she has to throw on him. He says what he needs her to do: “Save him.”

She opens her mouth, and he can already hear bullshit coming forth, “I can’t guarantee you anything at this point. I’m doing my part, his body is doing it’s -,” she wavers, her lashes flutter and then something shifts in her. 

“Mr Stark. You have to understand -,” she starts in a practiced cold tone and Tony, he cannot deal with this now.

Gauntleted fingers dig into her lab-coat clad frame, and he shakes her once before they’re quickly intercepted. 

Natasha’s cool gaze is fixed on him steadily even if she’s holding onto Helen Cho, six feet away from him. There’s someone arresting his arms from behind but he doesn’t care who, doesn’t put up a fight; that’s not why he’s here.

He needs Cho to know her priority. “I don’t care what it costs.” he looks into her eyes and tells her. This is between them and they both know what he means; there’s a vial of perfected extremis in the vault behind the wall. “I need you to save him. Do you understand?”

Helen Cho blinks, comprehension dawning upon her before she suddenly looks sick; lips pressed tight like she’s holding back her words from him. Good, Tony doesn’t want to hear her preach ethical violation to him. But he keeps looking at her until she agrees; because she has to. She has to know that he needs Bucky alive. No bargains in that matter.

Finally, she nods, quickly once. “I’ll do my best.”

And Tony leaves her to it, putting all his trust on her and he doesn’t wait. He has somewhere else to be. He shakes off the hands holding him back, and it’s Steve; his voice echoes his march; a pleading cry of “Tony, don’t!” 

-

Two hours later, he’s standing on the rubbles of what a HYDRA’s bunker used to be. The fat plop of dripping blood onto a blown out wooden plank under his feet slowly stirs him back to reality; wiping his vision off of its angry red and he computes the extent of the damage he’d done with a strange detachment.

For a minute, he stares at his right hand where the blood is dripping from; relaxed in posture, gauntlet still on, fingers fisting around a clump of hair from a decapitated head of someone whose face he recognized flashing on his HUD earlier that day. When he scanned for the bastard who fired that lethal shot. 

Good, he thinks. Good riddance.

His right palm whirs, flashing warning in blue and the satisfaction from blowing that head is -

He pulls in a breath and looks skyward. Directs energy into his thrusters and he flies to another bunker.

-

And another.

-

Three days after, he plugs in the armour to charge in a shitty hotel and stares at himself in the mirror; blank face, shirtless with a bloody abdomen and a bruised shoulder. 

They should have captured him long ago, he realises. He’s been going rogue all on his own, disconnected himself from the team and Rhodey and Pepper and he knows for sure that he’s breaking more law than he’d memorised twenty years ago. Somebody should have caught him; HYDRA or someone from WSC. Maybe even one of his teammates.

And yet here he is, still a free man, staining borrowed towels red from his first flesh wound since he started this vengeance streak.   

Somehow, that just fuels him to keep going.

-

Steve finds him underground in Kazimierz and he isn’t even surprised.

“I was wondering when you’d come,” he says, ready to fight, expecting an arrest. 

Steve, however, looks at him all pinched and that is even worse. Tony wants to tell him, no. Don’t show me that face. But he doesn’t have to because that look vanishes soon after and Steve nods tightly.

“If you’re doing this,” he says, “I’m coming with you.”

-

In retrospect, maybe Steve follows to keep him in line; if they catch someone alive, he’d say, “Let me deal,” and Tony lets him. He’d already destroyed the guy responsible, here forth if Steve wants to play saint and ease their death, he can go ahead and do it. Tony doesn’t care.

-

Two days later, he finds out what actually Steve wants. Catches Tony numb in the process of washing dirt and the inside of someone’s cheek - from when he’d hooked his fingers too deep - under his fingernails when Steve leans against the bathroom door and says,

“Come home, Tony.”

He turns off the tap and wipes his hands dry with a towel. There’s still something under his fingernails, unwashed, but he ignores that to ask Steve, “Is he awake?” 

Steve couldn’t give him a straight answer so, Tony chucks the towel on the counter, walks past him into the room they're sharing for the night and nods at the bathroom when Steve turns to look at him. “It’s all yours now. Unless you’re leaving, then I suppose you’d prefer to shower at home.”

He tears open the bag of chips, guzzles down two bottles of water before he shoves a handful of bland chips into his mouth. He knows Steve’s still looking, but he avoids his gaze, anyway. Keeps shoving more chips into his mouth even though he’s close to choking and only when he hears the bathroom door close, he stops.

-

They burn the fifth centre to the ground and leave to Chukotsky District for the sixth.

They share a room in another motel that night, vodka warming their insides and Tony shares a piece of him with Steve. 

“I get it now.” He tells him, eyes burning as he stares at his bare feet intensely.

“What?”

Blinking hard, he empties his plastic cup down his throat and looks up. “Why you’d kill for him,” he smirks. Not an ounce of feeling under his skin. 

Steve’s eyes flicker in the dim orange light. He says, “Not for the same reason as yours, no,” and he looks like he got something more to say following that. But whatever it is, Tony doesn’t hear it. 

-

The next morning, he wakes up to Natasha at the foot of his bed, Steve still fast asleep in his own.

She rubs a thumb on the inside of his ankle and joins them for the last bunker. 

“Come home,” she says later, wiping a bloody dagger in the inside of her left sleeve, watching grey clouds burst into the white sky next to Tony and she tells him, “He’s awake, you know. Asking for you.”

-

He’s stuffing clothes into his duffel bag, but hesitates when he’s about to pull the zipper. Not far from him, Steve pauses in rolling his socks. Natasha offs the TV; they’re watching him - both of them - have been watching him since they returned from that bunker.

Tony’s hands shake, and he buries one in his hair. “I’m not coming,” he tells them.

“Why?” Natasha cocks her head curiously. 

Steve plops heavily down on his bed. Its frame creaks. “Tony,” he begins, but Natasha’s fluid movement from the foot of his bed to Tony’s side, stops him. 

Tony’s knees buckle and when he sinks, she goes down with him; leans her head on his shoulder, drapes an arm over and she fills his sense with sweet strawberry smell while Steve looks wearily from across him. 

Tony keeps his eyes fixed on him, his thoughts on the sweet taste of Natasha’s scent on his tongue and he says, “He almost died because of me.”

Steve frowns, scrunching the socks into a ball in his hands, and he corrects Tony stiffly, “He took the hit for you. It was his choice.” 

“Well, he shouldn’t have!” Tony yells.

Natasha’s hand is soft on his cheek when she turns him around to face her. “You would have done the same,” she murmurs, levelled and calm, close to his ear. 

Steve’s jaw is clenched hard, but his words are soft. “We protect what we love, Tony.”

Blinking back hot tears, Tony looks away from both of them and grits out, “He’s an idiot.”

Steve snorts. Natasha presses a smile into his temple, and she suggests, “Maybe he’d like to hear that from you.”

-

Returning home after a week and a half should feel relieving but all he could think is about Bucky and the last time he saw him; bloody in his arms in Central Park and then lifeless in the cradle, and he couldn’t help the anxiety that boils from his chest to the back of his throat. 

That in itself buries his desire to check on Bucky, see for himself how he’s doing; make sure he’s all right.

“I’ve got to answer Pepper,” he blurts out, already stepping away from them; separating himself, and Natasha’s frown and Steve’s disappointed gaze accompanies him all the way to the workshop where he collapses on the couch.

“How’s he doing?” He asks into the throw pillow that smells like Bucky. “Friday?”

“Sergeant Barnes is healing well, boss. Although, he’d do better if he sees you.”

Bullshit. He doesn’t tell her.

“Did Dr Cho use the extremis?” He asks instead, pulse bursting through his arteries. 

When Friday says, “No, boss. There was no need for that,” he buries his head into the pillow and breathes Bucky in deeply; relief spreading like a balm under his breastbones.

“But boss,” Friday carries on, “Sergeant Barnes asked for you.” 

Before she could say more about that, he promptly mutes her.

-

Maybe he’s a coward. Maybe he’s afraid if he sees Bucky, he’d be accused to be the cause of his near death experience.

Or maybe he’s terrified when he asks why did you do that, Bucky would look at him like he’s an idiot, and say, “Because I love you, that’s why.” and Tony -

Tony knows he couldn’t handle hearing that. His heart would shatter into a million pieces.

So, maybe he’s a coward. Maybe what he’s really afraid of is breaking his own heart - call it a primitive reaction. He is a primate in DNA after all.

-

“Boss, Miss Potts is asking for you.”

“Tell her I’m busy inventing something that could triple her paycheck.”

“Boss.”

“What?”

“Sergent Barn-,”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, but he’s asking for -,”

“Mute.”

-

Maybe he’s running away.

And maybe he’s bad at it.

-

“Jesus.” he jumps, well past midnight, a few days after he’d returned, in the penthouse kitchen, in the middle of his supply raid (because Pepper pulled her rights and cut direct deliveries to the shop).

He’d calculated the risk, knew there was a 95% chance of him being caught by the very person he’s running away from. That’s why he’d planned his approach, carefully ran over it multiple times, asked Friday over and over to make sure no one was in the kitchen.

Should have counted in the fact that his AI is in love with her Sargeant Barnes.

The same Sargeant who asks calmly, “Any reasons you’ve been avoiding me?”

Tony clears his throat, drops his hand from where he’d clutched his chest. “Not in particular," he tries for nonchalance.

He didn’t turn on the light, but the silver glint of Bucky’s metal arm is unmistakable; tracing trajectory motion of his leap from the countertop to in front of Tony, infusing heat from their sudden proximity.

“I wanted to see you,” Bucky says, eerily flat, head tilted sideways as his blue-grey eyes study Tony from top to bottom then up. “But you refused.”

Throat clamping around a lump, Tony looks down at his empty coffee mug. At their bare feet and then at the cold tiles they’re standing on. He avoids the topic. “How are you doing?” He asks instead, looking up with false cheeriness. 

Bucky doesn't hesitate before he answers, “Better if I’d seen you.”

And Tony has to laugh at that. Jesus Christ, just how stupidly cheesy is this guy? Except he feels his cheeks warm, and he steps aside to get away with an airy, “Well now that you have, I hope you feel better.”

Bucky doesn't let him (of course he doesn't); blocks his path and his gaze bore into Tony when their eyes meet. Trying to pry something only he knows what and Tony, exhausted after two consecutive sleepless nights, lets him. 

If not for an excuse to allow himself drink in the sight of the man who took a laser to his chest for him and almost died. The man he'd lost his sanity for, killed for and then ran away from because he is a coward. 

His eyes fall on the lower left side of Bucky’s pectoral. If he looks harder, he thinks he could see a dark patch seeping inside out like spreading ivy. He shakes his head to clear his vision.

Bucky seems to read him well. He takes the mug away and catches his empty hand before bringing it to his chest. Then he places it over exactly where that wound had been last week; bleeding viscous blood all over them and when Tony looks up at him, desperate and scared like he was that day, he assures, “I’m fine. Still alive.”

And then, “C’mere,” he tugs. Pulling Tony closer, pressing his palm harder over his shirt clad chest; warm where they touch, and he asks, “Can you feel that? It’s still beating in there.”

And it is - His heart is. All healed and pumping serum tainted blood through his vessels; keeping him alive like he hadn’t been gasping for breath in Tony’s lap just last week. 

“Fuck.” Tony exhales.

Bucky takes it as a cue to pull him into his chest. Wraps him tight in a hug, and he buries his nose in Tony’s hair. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Tony tries to inhale but ends up choking on air. 

“I know.” Bucky repeats. Pressing lips to his forehead and then temple.

When he finds his voice, Tony fists the fabric overlying his left breast, head buried in warmth and he lets out a pained growl. “Don’t ever do that again.”

But Bucky, of all things, chuckles like he'd just heard a joke. “Can’t promise that, doll,” He drawls, grinning like the idiot he is. “If it happens another time, I’ll do the same thing all over again. Gotta protect my best fella,” he winks.

And it drives Tony so mad that he shoves at the man's chest and glares at him, venomous. Fingers shaking in clenched fists, locked inside white knuckles and he spits, “Fuck you.” At Bucky.

For a second, Bucky’s stunned. But something flashes in his eyes and he barks out a laugh soon after. 

"Yeah," he snorts. “Kid you not, I would really like you to.” 

And that - That shocks Tony into a stop; eyes blinking wide with disbelief, he stares at the man in front of him. 

“What?” Bucky laughs, fingers raking through his long hair as he shakes his head and when he looks up again, whatever he sees in Tony, it makes him square up, and he exhales in a rush. 

“Jesus, Tony. Don’t tell me you still don’t know how I feel about you. Choked on my blood and all I could do was look at you like you hung the moon - I saw that footage. The one they aired in the news? Sam showed me that thing, and Hell. The whole world saw how I feel for you baby, and you’re standing here looking at me like you got no clue."

He closes in then, urgent, and he catches Tony’s head in both hands; cradles his face like something precious and leans down to look into Tony's eyes.  

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart," he pleads. “Tell me you know how you make me feel. Tell me you know, I’m yours.”

And Tony, refusing to be shaken in the face of hopeful eyes and gentle hands - one ice cold while the other blood warm - grabs the back of Bucky’s head in a harsh fist and asks him roughly, “And you? Do you know how I feel about you?”

Bucky blinks then, a slow smile spreads across his face, eyes twinkling with sadistic joy and he grins, “Stevie told me what you did. Said you didn’t spare even one.”

“All of them,” Tony breathes, lungs blooming fresh with the smell of Bucky this close, this warm and he could taste his scent on his tongue with every breath he takes. 

Shivering, he glides his hand from Bucky's nape to the side of his neck, and he yanks him close until their foreheads press. “They can’t touch you now," he whispers into the small space in between them.

“Jesus, doll.” Bucky chuckles, dry and rough, palms pressing into Tony’s cheek, tilting his face up so their breaths intermingle and their noses bump, and the first brush of their skin that near is electrifying. Like stepping on a live wire; sizzling straight into the veins under their skins and it propels them to mash their mouths together in a desperate kiss. 

Giddy as they are with something vile and raw, they didn't care if their teeth clashed in the rush; painful and sharp, or if their kisses were too messy and wet. Their heads are too heady with the taste of their love and they feed it into each other’s mouths, drink it out of them and fuck - They laugh through it all. 

At one point, Tony yanks at Bucky's hair and hums, pressing harder in and Bucky presses equally hard in return. Neither wanting to give; only take, take and take until there’s nothing left and then more.

And they're greedy for contact, starving for each other. Trembling with wants so violent that it bursts through their pores; spilling like white hot lava, burning everywhere their skin touch and maybe they knock several furniture over -Tony doesn’t know for sure. 

He’s too busy getting lost in Bucky and the biting way he kisses, the unforgiving way he squeezes Tony’s ass. Too busy pulling him by the collar, fingers fisting in his hair as he nips back harder, hissing and groaning ‘bedroom’ into Bucky’s mouth, and ‘this way’ as they stumble across the living room, stubbing toes on coffee tables and chairs, stopping to wince and laugh before resuming kissing even more passionately than before. 

Eventually, after they knock over a vase and watch it break into thousand pieces, Bucky hoists him up and walks them to the bed, and it may be emasculating if he was in a different state of mind. But right then, head spinning from Bucky and only Bucky everywhere, Tony lets him have it. 

-

Later, he watches the sun spill over Bucky’s closed eyes, spread from his sleep-slack face to his naked torso and sheet tangled legs and he reaches out a hand to press it over Bucky’s left pectoral. 

Focuses in on the steady beat behind the ribs, listens to the sound of Bucky’s heart work its job; pumping life into his bones and eyes, and spreading pink to his lips and occasionally - like last night - blotting that lovely shade of red from his face to his neck and - 

It’s staggering how close he’d come to lose that; how close Tony had come to lose his mind with that.

Hours earlier, with kiss-swollen lips and sex mussed hair, Bucky had kissed every one of his fingertip and whispered, “Turned you into a murderer didn’t I?”

Tony had combed his falling fringe back with his free hand and easily admitted that, “Losing you would evidently serve to be my villain story. No doubt in that.”

Right now though, feeling Bucky more than alive under his palm, Tony tips his slack jaw close and kisses him good morning.

[spcncershybrid]

Past Pleasures

GIFS ARE NOT MINE

KAI PARKER X FEM!WITCH!READER (PAST RELATIONSHIP)

BAU TEAM X READER (PLATONIC)

SPENCER REID X READER (BRIEF AT END)

Request: Ohh I'm anxious for misunderstanding part 2! It's sooo good 💚 idk if you're taking requests (sorry if you're not) but i thought it'd be pretty cool if reader works at the bau and is someone from kai parker's past (a childhood friend/crush/whatever) and when the team's called for help in mystic falls, kai's the unsub.. thanks in advance and, again, sorry if you're not taking requests! Take care :)

(Summary: Never in a million years did you think your ex boyfriend would be on the BAU’s radar.)

(A/N: I'm altering the Prison World storyline from TVD for this imagine! Also I’m altering Kai’s storyline to fit this. Lastly some stuff in this story involving the hospital may be inaccurate. Also sorry this took so long to post. I hope you still enjoy it!)

REQUEST ARE OPEN (+ Harry Potter has been added to the list recently!)

“Hotch I’m going to be a bit late this traffic is a pain in the-” I start before I get cut off. “Y/L/N take all the time you need just make sure you get here in one piece.” Hotch’s stern voice says. “Yes sir I will be speeding there right now. Not literally Hotch.” I say before hanging up the phone. I steadily drive over to work and park my car. I enter the building and head up to the unit area. “Hey Y/N/N.” I hear Penelope’s happy voice greet me as I step out of the elevator. “Hey Pen.” I say smiling as I swing open the doors of the bullpen. I head over to my desk and sit down. “Ah don’t get too comfortable my BAU baby. We have a case.” Penelope says strolling past me and up the stairs.I haven’t had coffee yet.I follow her into the room. “Here I heard your commute was very long.” Emily says, handing me a cup of coffee. “Oh what did I do to be blessed with Emily freaking Prentiss.” I say smiling as I take a sip. “Here you go babes.” Penelope says handing us our files. “Okay Mystic Falls Virginia just outside our room. Multiple bodies were sent to the hospital all banged and bloody.” Penelope says shivering at her words.I look at the file pictures and these seem vaguely familiar.“So why are we being called in?” Derek asks. “Because they all identified that it was the same man.” Penelope says.Great it’s serial.“They all said it was a blue eyed, dark brown haired guy.” Penelope says. Oh shit Kai. “Do you have a name yet?” I ask Penelope. “No but, like major but a similar thing was done by a guy named Malachai Parker.” Penelope says shivering slightly. “So why haven’t they caught him yet?” JJ asks, confused. “No one has been able to find him.”  I look down to the floor remembering the prison world escape. 

“Kai you and I both know she won’t get us both out.” I say snuggling up to him. “Babe have a little faith.” He says kissing the top of my head. “Kai what if we don’t get out?” I ask sadly, remembering my life outside of this world. “We’ve dealt with each other for this long and plus we can kill our way to the top. I’ll consider sharing my coven with you.” He says smiling at me. I smile back at him. “As fun as the killing game sounds Kai I don’t want to hurt people. I want to do what I planned before I got in here.” I say fiddling with my fingers. “The FBI thing?” Kai asks quirking an eyebrow. “Yeah Kai I would’ve been perfect for that.” I sigh sadly. “If you became an agent would you put me away?” Kai asks, grabbing my hands. “I don’t think I can run a coven on my own.” I say smiling up at him. “Good now let’s find our ticket out.” He says clapping his hands together.

——————

“Y/N?” I hear Spencer whisper beside me catching my attention. “Hmm?” I ask looking up at him. “We’re headed to the jet now.” He says shyly, handing me my go bag. “Thanks Spence.” I say smiling as I stand up. We head towards the elevator elaborating on ideas for the case and catching Kai. We step onto the jet and take our seats. “Okay so his M.O is very bloody.” Emily says twisting her pen between her fingers. “He could be sadistic.” JJ suggests turning a page to look at crime scene photos. “Or he can be a sociopath. Or at least showing the signs.” I say as I shrug leaning back. “Why do you think that?” Rossi asks. “It was just a suggestion Rossi I honestly have no clue on how to approach this case.” I say closing the file and stare out the window.

——————

Kai and I enter the back seat of a taxi. “We‘re free baby.” I say laughing giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Where are you guys off to?” The driver asks. “Mystic Falls.” Kai says quickly. “Why are headed back to that trashy town Kai.” I say rolling my eyes. “Old friends.” He says grabbing my chin so I turn to face him. “What kind?” I say smiling at him. “Family kind.” He says placing his hands over my shoulder. “Why are we going to visit your family? They have caused you nothing but trouble. For fucks sake Kai they treated you like shit.” I say shifting to look at his face. “Relax it isn't going to be a fun reunion.” Kai says shrugging. I sigh lightly this most likely won’t end good.

——————

“Tell us baby girl.” Derek says as he puts Penelope on speaker. “Okay so this Malachai guy has a rough history. He was born in 1972 in Portland Oregon. He has multiple siblings which he, oh my gosh, murdered. He has a twin sister named Josette Laughlin and two younger siblings Lucas and Olivia Parker who are still alive.” Penelope says. “Is that all Penelope?” Hotch asks walking over to the phone. “Actually no this is weird. Malachai went off the grid in 1994, like disappeared. Then he reappeared in 2012.” She says, sounding confused. “Isn’t your hometown Portland Oregon?” JJ whispers beside me. “Sadly.” I say. “There’s been a series of bodies that are injured in the local hospital. Malachai was also admitted there but he isn’t seen on the cameras. They suspect he’s still in the hospital. ” The sheriff says quickly entering and exiting the room. We all scramble and put on our vests. Half of us enter one van and the rest in another as we speed off into the hospital.

——————

We enter the hospital with our guns drawn low. “Reid, Y/L/N, Prentiss take the upper area of the hospital. The rest follow me.” Hotch instructs. We all nod in unison and head up the stairs with our weapons still out. We make it to the floor with the victims and the lights go out. “What the hell.” I hear Emily say. “Welcome to Mystic Falls’ Hospital BAU agents. I am Kai Parker, nice to be acquainted with you guys seeing as my ex-girlfriend is on your team. Hello Y/N.” Kai’s voice booms through the hospital speakers. I groan internally at his words so much for being lowkey. I turn on the flashlight on my gun and look around. Great Emily and Spencer are nowhere to be seen. I surprisingly make my way down the steps and head towards the speaker room. No ones in here. “Of course you're the first to be here.” I hear Kai say from behind me. “Don’t make this difficult Kai.” I say turning to him. “Or what you’ll arrest me. Last time I checked you hurt people too. Before this whole FBI thing that is.” Kai says, stepping towards me. “Actually that’ll be kind of hot so I won’t oppose it happening.” He says, smirking at me. I lay my hand out to start inflicting pain on him. “Immobilis.” He says halting my movements. I freeze completely and stare at him as he walks around me.

“You still look the same. You even still have that scar from when we escaped the prison world.” Kai says as he drags a finger onto my cheek outlining the scar. “Does your team even know about me? Do they know you could’ve found me so easily with your magic?” He asks, gripping my arm. He siphons some magic from me causing pain but I can’t scream out. He lets go of me and drops the spell. “Motus.” I say immediately sending him flying out the room. He groans and gets up off the floor. He speeds over to me and grabs me by the neck pinning me to the wall. He grips my neck tightly as I gasp for air. “I won’t kill you because well we dated and you're hot.” He says dropping me. I fall to my knees holding my throat. “Malachai Parker. Put your hands in the air.” Emily says as she appears behind Kai. Kai smirks to me and puts his hands up. “Remember your house in the prison world. I hope you remember what I told you.” Kai says to me. “I love you and always win.” I say looking at him confused. “Ad somnum.” He says, turning to Emily making her drop to the floor. He turns back to me and grabs me by the chin. “I always win baby.” He says kissing me before speeding out of the room. The lights on the floor immediately go back on as he runs away and Emily stands up rubbing her head. “Where did he go?” Emily asked, looking around. “He’s gone.” I sigh sadly. “Guys!” We hear Spencer exclaim. Emily and I scramble out the room towards his voice with our guns drawn. “Oh my gosh.” Emily gasps as we see Kai holding Spencer up by the neck. I place my hand forwards and feel the gust of wind moving around me from the vents. I focus my energy on Kai and think of pain. Kai immediately drops to the floor, dropping Spencer in the process. I step closer to Kai as Emily grabs Spencer moving him to the side. I twist my fingers making the pain intensify as Kai screams out in agony. 

I drop my hand and Kai stands up glaring at me. “Mittite.” I say flinging him into the wall. He stays pinned tightly into the wall and I twist my hand snapping his neck. His body drops to the ground lifeless. “Cuff him and put him in the car before he wakes up.” I say to Spencer who nods back at me.

——————

We head back to the station and Kai gets put into one of the cells. “Make sure you call Bonnie and Damon quickly. Kai is dangerous.” I say quietly to Sheriff Forbes who nods in understanding. I nod over to her and walk off to the room where we all set up. “Where is everyone?” I ask, noticing only Spencer in the room. “Back at the hotel.” He says holding his bag tightly. “Oh um well I’ll be right back.” I say opening the door. “Hey Y/N would you maybe want to go out sometime?” I hear Spencer says. I turn to him blushing profusely and nod not trusting my mouth to say actual words. He smiles widely as I exit the room. I walk over to Kai’s spelled  cell and look at him tilting my head to the side. “Goodbye Kai. I hope you enjoy the new and improved prison world you'll most likely be sent to.” I say waving him off. I head back to the set up room and grab my bag. I lace my hands with Spencer and we walk out of the station.

[goron-king-darunia]

Annon-Guy: How different would the original Symphonia's story go if Emil/Ratatosk, Marta and Richter were part of the group back than, helping them against the Desians and Mithos?

Honestly, this is a really hard thing to answer. They existed during the Symphonia timeline, they just didn't participate in the main story. So we honestly have every reason to believe not much if anything would have changed except with the possibility of Ratatosk since, well, no one knew where to look for him at that time and I don't imagine Aster speed running that discovery since the only reason they started looking was because the climate was weird when the planet came back together all jumbled. If they had somehow stumbled upon Ratatosk their own way, either we would have gotten a redemption speedrun because Lloyd and Colette have plot armor and would have been able to keep him under control or we would have gotten some, like, devastating calamity way earlier because someone "important" would have died. Or they would have had to invent another underappreciated redshirt like Aster to take the bullet. I think if we saw DotNW's cast in Symphonia, we likely would have gotten mostly side-character reference and not much else because I think trying to involve them would not only have made the DotNW we got impossible (i.e. Marta couldn't have a reason to hate Colette if she was there with Colette when the tree went rampant. She would know how and why it happened. Emil would have to be the Real Emil Castagnier and it would remove some of the suspense and mystery from DotNW because if the changed appearance didn't give it away the unjustified hatred for Lloyd would because in non-game material I think we got to see the real Emil's journal and he made one last entry when the Blood Purge began and he seemed really confused that Lloyd, a guy he knew as a hero, would be terrorizing town. If DotNW had followed Real Emil, I think he would have been more confused and sad than angry after the blood purge. It would be more "Why would Lloyd attack Palmacosta and kill my parents? That doesn't make sense for such a hero. What made him change, and why did he attack MY parents?" Since Ratatosk/Emil didn't know Lloyd the way the Real Emil did, he had no framework for what a hero Lloyd was before. He has no attachment to the heroic image of Lloyd. That's part of why DotNW's Emil is so easily able to just hate Lloyd. He's not conflicted. He only knows Lloyd as "The person who killed my parents but everyone treats as a hero." and not "Lloyd, the former hero, who for some reason went out of his way to kill my parents." Richter I can't see as having a role in Symphonia 1 given how the half-elves are still either running human ranches and making everyone terrified or subjugated and exploited basement scientists under the thumb of Sybak Research Academy. If Richter had any role at all, it would probably be something akin to Kate's role. Helping the party but ultimately being a side character of little note. Which honestly would rob from his presence in DotNW or at least not add to it. Most people's favorite character from Symphonia isn't Kate or Chocolat or even Marble, even though they all have roles to play. Most people barely remember Virginia Sage is alive because she's so easy to miss and forget about. So anyone who did remember Richter, would probably be like "This guy is the villain now? Why? Why does this dude get the spotlight, he didn't do anything in the last game." Aster would probably end up being the same way. I doubt Aster would leave Richter all alone to go galavanting around Sylvarant with the heroes. And if he did, honestly he'd probably just end up being another Colette since they have similar sunny personalities and I doubt Symphonia would be able to do much with him since he doesn't have any special battle skills that would look cool and doesn't fill a role that Sheena, Zelos, or Regal aren't already fulfilling. Marta could theoretically fit but like I said it would get in the way of her character motivation in DotNW. But I'm not sure what she has that's unique that she could contribute since Raine is already a healer and the Vanguard isn't a thing yet, so a lot of her insight that was helpful in DotNW doesn't exist

yet. As a whole, I think putting the DotNW cast in Symphonia wouldn't work all that well because, well, it's not their story. Similar to how the Symphonia cast doesn't add much to the DotNW story because, again, it's mostly not their story. Now that doesn't mean it wouldn't have been AWESOME to see them interract. Richter as a broody young man getting carted around with his best bud Aster because he and Aster somehow have some special knowlege of, like, the history of Kharlan or something? That could be fun, but that requires a whole new thing added to the main story. Marta getting to join up because she knows a lot about the ancient history of the Sylvarant Dynasty? That could be neat. Emil being brought into the fold because as a native of a fishing village he's just, like, ridiculously good at fishing? That would be awesome. But these are all things that wouldn't necessarily be integral to the main game. Lloyd is the hero. He's just always right by virtue of optimism and plot armor. He has to be there. His dad is a smith and his other dad is an angel, so both those connections also help. Colette is necessary because she's Lloyd's motivation. She's sympathetic and gives the player someone to want to save. Her luck and power as the chosen and an angel and a pure maiden are all benefits to the party. Raine is a healer, is smart, and has extensive knowledge of ruins and can work most of the tech in the game. Her memory of the otherworldly gate is useful and contextualizes a gameplay element for the player. Genis is a best friend support type, a magic user, a half-elf, and sympathetic to Marble and later to Mithos. He not only affirms Lloyd's belief that everyone is worth saving and keeps Lloyd grounded and motivated but he's also useful for understanding the motivations of the bad guys. Sheena is a summoner, and the summon spirits are very important to the story and saving the world, but she also represents the anxieties of Tethe'alla, worried about the end of their prosperity. Zelos has power he never asked for, a testament to the broken system of Chosens and their purpose. He has connections as a political and spiritual leader as he has connections to the King and to the Pope. Regal has monetary connections, knows what it means to sacrifice, is unbelievably strong, but honestly, he's probably the least special person in the group. Presea knows her way around charms, sneaks the party into places they have to get to even before she regains her senses, and is basically living proof of why Mithos's misguided attempt to create a race of lifeless beings is stupid. Kratos has connections to basically everything, even if he's a betrayer, and is ultimately the reason Lloyd is even able to pact with Origin which is one of the final keys in the game. I feel like you could work fishing master Emil, historian Richter, scientist Aster, and distant heir to a dead dynasty Marta in to Symphonia, but a lot of Symphonia was written around the specific characters it needed for the story. So not only do I think it robs them of their rightful places as centerpieces of their own stories in DotNW, but it's also just trying to cram too much extra into Symphonia. Aster, Richter, and Colette being friends would be great though. (And Rilena too, honestly.) I think their personalities would play off Richter nicely and just... 3 blonds all dragging a grumpy redhead around and he'll never admit he likes it even though he absolutely does is, like, very wholesome. Marta, Colette, and Presea just being animal nerd geeks would be great too. Emil I'm not sure on because DotNW Emil isn't real Emil and IDK enough about what real Emil likes to know who he'd be friends with. But Ratatosk getting a defaut support system and getting to actually confront Mithos? Holy hell. That would be a game, man. But I don't think it could happen since the only reason Aster went looking for Ratatosk was because of the messed up climate and I'm not sure if Ratatosk could even be awake with the planet separated. But boy howdy that would be interesting. So while I

don't think there is any one answer and while I don't think it's entirely possible to put the DotNW cast we know and love into Symphonia without changing a lot, it IS fun to think about. But I honestly think it would not only make the first game too crowded and messy but would take away some of how special it was to meet Richter, Emil, Ratatosk, Marta and the rest of the DotNW cast in DotNW. Besides, it sucked enough to see Genis have to struggle with fighting against a fellow half-elf. Imagine teen angst Richter having to do it too.

[shyvioletcat]

Could you do a rowaelin angst prompt like thing where aelin dies giving birth to their second or third child and becomes a ghost that follows them around? Idk how to explain it very well at the moment... but it's obviously an angst prompt. Love you AND your writing!

Well, well, well anon… Thank you for making me cry at least three times while writing this. At one point I couldn’t see the screen. *WARNING* Major character death ahead… 

My hand was forced. But I still apologise. This is a long son of a bitch too.

~~~~~

Rowan held his new born daughter in his arms, the world quiet and still. She was so tiny, so perfect. But it did nothing to soothe the expanse of darkness within him that threatened to swallow him whole.

“Rowan.”

It was Yrene. He’d heard her approach but he didn’t look up from the squirming infant in his arms. Because if he did…

“Rowan, I just need to check her over. It will only take me a few minutes then I will bring her right back to you.” Yrene’s voice was so soft and quiet, as if speaking to him in any other manner might shatter him entirely. And it just might.

Rowan drew in a shuddering breath, feeling his will slipping. His daughter cried out her body moving involuntarily. She was minutes old, she knew nothing of the world. He envied her ignorance.

“Only a few moments,” Yrene said again.

Rowan complied, treating the request as a command, like a good soldier.

All of a sudden he wasn’t in Orynth, he was is Mistward in that dingy old room, fire roaring to help Aelin keep warm after her burnout.

I don’t want your pity she had said to him and then told him why.

Like a good soldierRowan had told her. He had meant every one of those words to her.

Rowan looked at his empty hands where his daughter had been. It was then that he saw the small crescent shaped imprints in his palms. They weren’t from his own nails, they were from hers… She had gripped his hands so hard as she made him promise her, as if the drop of healing power within knew what none of them had, she made him promise.

“You save him Rowan. If you have to save one of us, you save him.”

They had been so sure that it was a boy. The dream Rowan had had all those years ago as he searched for his mate had been right for their first two children and they had blissfully assumed he would be right again this time. And then it would be another daughter and then at least one, that would be a true surprise. They had quietly laughed about it over so many nights. Aelin had called him a seer and Rowan had flicked her nose and kissed her which only made her laugh, a wicked and joyous sound. Something he would never hear again.

Rowan turned around to face the bed where she lay, cold and unmoving. Someone had laid one of their blankets over her, just above her shoulders exposed. Rowan understood the sentiment but the blanket was useless, not when Aelin’s raging wildfire had burnt out, never to be kindled again.

Aelin was dead. Rowan’s mate, his wife, his love, was dead.

Rowan stumbled to the edge of the bed, falling to his knees beside it. He brushed Aelin’s hair away from her face, her skin already so cold and her face draining of colour. It was as if she had thrown every last part of her into saving their child. If there was one thing Aelin loved more than him it was their children. She loved them fiercely with every part of her burning heart and soul.

A broken sob cracked from his chest, the sound coming from the shreds of his broken soul, so devoid of anything now that the mating bond had been irrevocably severed. Then he said one word, so mournful and shattered that all those in the room began to weep at the sound.

“Fireheart.”

~~~~~

Fireheart…

Aelin felt warm as she slowly opened her eyes. It felt so strange after being so, so cold. Instinctively her hands went to her stomach and found it to be entirely flat. Panic gripped her and she sat up.

“Fireheart.”

Aelin’s whole body stilled. She had not heard that voice in so long.

“Mother?”

Aelin was enclosed in a warm embrace, so familiar and comforting. She’d never forget the strong arms of her Father and how they felt as they held her and kept her safe from the world.

He let her go and Aelin took in the smiling faces of her parents. They were smiling but Aelin could read the sadness in their faces, the unshed tears in their eyes.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Aelin whispered.

“I know, Aelin,” her father said, his hand reaching for hers.

It came back to her, in flashes and moments.

Pain pulled her from her sleep, or maybe it had been her essence of healing power telling her something was wrong. Very wrong. Rowan was already awake and she murmured his name as he assessed her. When he pulled back the blankets that’s when she saw the blood.

Using the same portal they had used to bring in the Wolf Tribe in the final battle Rowan brought Yrene to Orynth. They had agreed the portals were only to be used in emergencies. This was most definitely an emergency. Despite the late hour Yrene arrived clear eyed and wholly awake.

“Just so you know, you’ve interrupted our first night alone in months,” Yrene said as she rolled up her sleeves.

Aelin huffed a laugh, grateful for Yrene’s attempt to lift the mood.

“You’re not missing much,” Aelin said, her voice trembling as much as her body.

Yrene snorted at that. “Alright let’s see what is going on here.”

Hours passed and Aelin had been in constant pain, she was feeling herself grow weaker by the minute.

Her fae hearing picked up Yrene’s whispers. “There’s too much blood. I can’t stop it.”

Aelin turned to Rowan, his face was stricken. She could feel his fear as though it was her own. She took his hand, another contraction ripping at her body as she locked eyes with her mate. This was different to the births of her other two children and it scared her.

“You save him Rowan. If it comes down to it you save him.”

Aelin could feel her fingernails biting into Rowan’s palm but he didn’t flinch. He only nodded once.

I understand, his eyes said to her…

“I’m not meant to be here.” They memories blurred and Aelin shook her head. The hand that was not held by her father flew to Aelin’s chest. It felt, hollow, empty. She reached for Rowan, reached for the mating bond, but neither were there. Aelin cried out, a sound of true heartbreak. Again she reached for Rowan, hoping desperately that some thread remained to bring her back. There was nothing. Instead a scene opened before her, Rowan knelt beside their bed, whispering things she could not hear. He knelt besides her lifeless body, tears streaming down his face.

Aelin’s own cheeks were wet with tears as his voice became clearer.

“I kept my promise Aelin, our child is alive. I hope you can hear me from wherever you are because it was a little girl, not a boy like we thought it would be,” Rowan said.

Then Yrene was beside him, handing him a bundle. Instinctively Aelin moved forward, wanting to see what she had not been able to while she was living. The face of her daughter. Rowan cradled her to his chest her perfect face peeking through the blankets, her eyes were open and she saw those Ashryver eyes search her father’s face. Rowan let out a shuddering breath.

“I know I promised to find you, to rip through all the hells until we were together again. But I can’t right now, Fireheart. She needs me, Elsie and Finn. They all need me. Terrasen needs me. If I left themnow you would find me yourself and kick my ass for good measure. So I won’t leave them yet, any of them. But we will be together again. To whatever end.”

Aelin let her heavy tears fall, the pain unbearable. She felt as if she was being torn to pieces. Her children motherless. Her country without a Queen. What had she done to cause this?

“It wasn’t your fault, Fireheart,” Her mother said, reading her thoughts. “You did nothing to cause this and you could do nothing to stop it. Sometimes life is cruel.”

Aelin turned away from her husband to look at her mother and her father. They understood what it was to be taken from a child too early, they knew her pain.

“Will you come, we’ve been waiting for you?” Evalin held her hand out to her daughter, beckoning and hopeful.

Aelin turned back to Rowan weeping unabashedly, tears staining the white blanket that kept they’re newborn daughter warm. Once again Aelin felt torn, even in death she could not rest.

“I can’t,” Aelin said. “Not yet.”

Rhoe nodded. “We understand.”

Aelin’s parents walked away from her, fading away into a white light. She wasn’t sad to see them go, she would see them again. And soon.

~~~~~

It had been weeks and still Rowan hadn’t named their daughter. They had been so sure it was a boy they hadn’t come up with any names for a girl. Rowan had been in a haze since her death, barely functioning. He cared for their children and that was about it. Aelin was flattered that he grieved so deeply but she wanted to smack him on the back of the head for leaving their daughter nameless.

Elide and Aedion were effectively leading the country as Rowan kept to their, now his, private quarters. All of the court visited him, helped him, helped Elspeth and Finnian as they grieved too. Aelin watched, but most of all her new daughter. She was so small, it made Aelin’s heart ache that she couldn’t hold her, feel the smoothness of her cheeks, the softness of her hair. Aelin knew what she would call her. She would call her Alora. It was a name from a book she had read when she was younger. Aelin had loved the name, she didn’t know why, and it fit her daughter somehow. It meant light, and that’s what she was. A light in the darkness.

The babe stirred in her sleep, eyes blinking open. She’d been asleep for only minutes. Her mouth opened and she wailed and Rowan was by her side a moment later. Aelin watched as Rowan picked her up shushing her quietly.

“I have you, my little one. I have you,” Rowan murmured as he rested his daughter on his chest. Rowan paced and bounced, but still she cried. “I know. I know. I miss her too.”

Rowan hummed, a lullaby he sang to all their children. Aelin knew he wasn’t singing the words because he was too overcome with emotions right now. The baby stopped crying, soothed by that ancient melody.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered. “I’m sorry I haven’t given you a name. I’m sorry your mother isn’t here, she would love you with all her heart. I’m sorry I’m not more.”

Aelin’s heart ached. Rowan was still selling himself short, always doubting his worth. If Aelin could she would contradict him, kiss him until he agreed with her. But she couldn’t.

She tried to reach for him, her chest still hollow from that severed bond, but still she tried.

“Alora, Alora, Alora,” Aelin said over and, hoping by some grace Rowan would hear her.

Alora Alora Alora.

Rowan tilted his head as though he was listening for something.

Alora…

He looked down at the baby and Aelin held her breath.

“Alora,” Rowan whispered. “I love you, Alora.”

~~~~~

The years went on and still Aelin watched.

She saw Alora take her first steps walking between Elsie and Finn as Rowan cheered, pure joy on his face.

But he scowled as she said her first word. It was Fen, as in Uncle Fenrys. Aelin had laughed but sobered when she saw tears lining Fenrys’ eyes. By far Fenrys was Alora’s favourite. Aelin loved to watch them play when he was in his wolf form. He would snarl at her and she’d snarl right back, her four teeth bared.

Her older siblings adored her. One of them always seemed to be by her side, holding her hand or carrying her. If it wasn’t one of them it was a member of her court. Initially Aelin had tensed when Lorcan had taken her into his arms after she had wandered away from her sister who was meant to be watching her. But there was a gentleness to him that calmed her anxieties. Alora had grabbed at his long hair and he had let her.

The day her powers manifested Rowan had cried. She had been playing with Lysandra and Elide, they chased her and Alora chased them back. Lysandra had evaded Alora again by she stumbled as her foot caught on the floor. Entirely encased in ice. Everyone had gaped but Alora clapped her hands excitedly, entirely too proud at herself. Rowan looked on from where he sat, a tear rolling down his cheek. Aelin wiped her own away.

Alora grew and grew and Aelin could only watch as she became more beautiful by the day. By some cruel joke, maybe lingering from the damned gods Aelin had banished, Alora was a twin to Aelin. Same hair and eyes, almost identical face. Sometimes Aelin saw the way Rowan’s heart twisted in pain. He didn’t begrudge her or love her any less for it. If anything it was a beautiful reminder of his lost love.

Aelin watched as Alora fell in love and had her heart broken, a few times. Rowan was there for her holding her as she cried, threaten to rip arms off and freeze favoured appendages of the culprits. That made Alora and Aelin laugh. Fussy fae bastard.

Elspeth came of age, and after travelling and taking time for herself she assumed the throne and Rowan stepped down. Alora went travelling as well, visiting cousins in Wendlyn and Doranelle, making friends wherever she went. Such a bright light, people couldn’t keep away. Aelin wept when she found her mate in Doranelle. A brash young boy who would grate on everyone and give Fenrys and Aedion a run for their money. But Alora loved him and he adored her, so Aelin was happy.

Years passed, families were had, friends passed. Each one Aelin would greet and usher on, telling them that she would follow soon. She had someone in particular she was waiting for.

~~~~~

Rowan started to become weary of the world, his long years finally catching up to him. His sole joy were his children and grandchildren but it was almost time. It was Alora who told him to go. She was pregnant with her third child and she was sitting quietly with Rowan in his private room. She closed her book and sighed heavily.

“Papa,” Alora said and Rowan looked at her, “I think it is time for you to go.”

Rowan straightened at her words and went to say something but Alora raised her hand to stop him.

“We are all happy and content. We are safe and you have raised us in love and kindness. But I think it is time you soul was whole again.”

Aelin’s hands were on her chest, over that emptiness that was a constant dull ache.

Rowan nodded. “I will wait for this baby and then I will make plans.”

~~~~~

Rowan kept true to his word. Alora welcomed a healthy baby girl, as Rowan took her into his arms for the first time Alora told him her name.

“Rowenna. For you, Papa,” Alora’s weary voice whispered.

Aelin couldn’t tell who was crying harder, herself or Rowan.

Soon after he packed up his things, put his affairs in order and farewelled his loved ones. He left on a ship, arriving in Wendlyn a while later. Aelin was with him every step of the way as he trekked to the ruin’s of Mala’s temple. Where he had brought her all those years ago, to help her.

Rowan laid down on the broken stones and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m coming, Fireheart.”

Aelin placed her hands on Rowan’s chest even though he could not feel them. His breathing slowed and he placed his hands over his heart where Aelin’s hands were as if he knew. Aelin watched as Rowan breathing stopped, the light going from his features. She waited, prayed. Prayed to the Sun-goddess that she had banished but had left Aelin with a kindness that gave her a life with Rowan. Aelin begged for one last kindness. For her mate to find her once more. Although she could not feel it she knew Rowan’s body had gone cold, but he still wasn’t with her. The tears she had fought to keep at bay fell as Aelin began to despair that this may be her punishment for her wickedness. To be like Elena, always banished from her mate.

Aelin looked at Rowan’s handsome face, the face she had once hated but had come to love so fiercely.

“Find me, Buzzard,” Aelin whispered, her voice wavering. “You must come find me.”

Then Aelin heard a voice, the voice of her husband, her mate, the love who had made her want to live.

“Fireheart.”

Aelin stood and saw him there. Then they were in each other’s arms, lips pressed together in a sweet reunion they had waited life times for.

“I knew you were with me,” Rowan whispered leaning his forehead against hers. “I knew you would always be with me.”

That hollowness in her chest began to fill, the mating bond flowing freely between them once more. Aelin sighed at the feeling, she felt whole again.

“Will you come with me?” Aelin asked as she interlaced their fingers together.

“Where?” Rowan asked back.

Aelin shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I do not fear it as long as you’re with me.”

Rowan smiled and raised her hand to his lips.

“To whatever end, Aelin.”

“To whatever end.”

Then hand in hand they walked until the bright light enveloped them, caressing them like warm summer breeze and welcomed them into the beyond.

~~~~~

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[aenwoedbeannaa]

Forest Fires | Geralt x Reader | Pt. 5

Part 5: Headfirst Slide into Destiny

Warnings: Here there be smut because who wouldn’t want to have sex with Geralt in the middle of the forest?

Summary: Chased from your home, hunted by the same enemies, you and Geralt head deeper into the forest. Unsure where you are going or what you plan to do next, you start to think about destiny.

Word Count: 2,674

Notes: So, as go on with this story, I realize that I’m making it slightly A/U. I love Yen, but for the purpose of this, story, and without giving too much away, Yen and Geralt have not met yet. Because like its way easier to create a whole new storyline for her than to break her heart lol idk. Also, timeline-wise, this takes place just after the fall of Cintra.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

If you enjoy my work, be sure to follow to stay up to date, you can also find all of my stories linked on my masterlist! And if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this or any of my other work, either comment or message me. Thank you all for reading!

                                                       *     *     *

You sit with Geralt, backs pressed up against a large tree trunk, letting it hide you form the world – at least hopefully it is hiding you. Though, whoever burned your house full of years of belongings seem to have long-since disappeared. You want to cry, but you can’t seem to find the tears. Perhaps it is just the shock of watching the black smoke rise from the clearing in the forest and smelling the burning scent of herbs, wood, leather, and the scent of meat signaling that they burned the shed containing a winter’s worth of food supply.

The murky twilight casts the forest into eerie semi-darkness; plunging the temperature into harsh early winter chill. You are surprised when Geralt notices you curling up on yourself – there was no way you could start a fire this evening – and wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in inhuman warmth. Of course, with your amethyst moon hanging around you neck, you are pretty certain that you could easily cast a spell to keep yourself warm, but you are hesitant to use even the smallest amount of magic for fear that your pursuers were still in the vicinity.

As you settle against his chest, exhaustion and heartbreak weighing heavily on you, you finally speak. “Why aren’t you upset with me?” You’d lied to him for weeks; let him believe you were someone you were not. 

Geralt settles his head atop yours and waits a moment before responding. “Because I see no reason to be upset.”

“But…” you stumble over your words, “I lied.”

“You didn’t lie, you just omitted information,” he says, shifting slightly to pull your legs up, so you are completely curled up against him. “Information that was clearly dangerous.” He pauses for another moment, and you swear you feel him squeeze you a bit tighter. “There is nothing wrong with keeping a secret to save your life.”

Living alone with nearly no contact with your family, or anyone else from the outside world, you had fallen into a pattern of thinking about your own life and its general irrelevance. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to live, it was just that you had been purely surviving – hunting, skinning, brewing herbs and teas, keeping the fire burning all day without fear of your cottage burning down with simple runes drawn on the fireplace. You’d been surviving only for yourself; just the innate human drive to stay alive. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that anyone else would even blink if you died.

The feeling is overwhelming, and you shiver despite the fact that Geralt has successfully blocked out the chill.

“I don’t even know what happened to the girl,” you mutter after a few moments of silence. All these years of hiding, and Nilfguaard still found you. “I could have used my position, I could have tried to help her, but instead I just… ran.”

You are surprised by how quickly Geralt places one hand on your chin, tilting your face up to his. “You can’t blame yourself; were you going to take on all of Nilfguaard by yourself?” he asks, shaking his head. You chew on your bottom lip, not sure how to answer, but he continues speaking, taking that pressure off.

“There are some monsters you can’t fight on your own,” he says, his gaze settling somewhere far off in the distance, clearly reminiscing now, “In case you were wondering how I ended up half dead in your backyard.” He is smiling a rueful smile and shaking his head, but your eyes widen, and you instinctively reach a hand up to touch his face as a wave of emotion hits you like a battering ram. For a brief moment, an image flashes in your mind – Geralt lying on the ground, blood soaked through his leathers, his eyes wide and lifeless. Only in this brief vision, it is not the Dire Wolf from the woods; it is the slice of a sword – steel – Nilfguaardian. Had he not reacted as quickly as he did, he could be dead, and it would have been your fault.

“Hey,” you hear, somewhere in the distance – it feels like so very far away – Geralt’s voice, soft but tinged with worry, “Y/N, it’s ok – stay with me.”

The vision fades away as quickly as it came, and you’re looking straight into his yellow eyes, his hands on each side of your face.

“Geralt,” you breathe, shifting in his lap so that you are facing him. You are still breathing heavily, not quite able to shake the vision from your mind. You realize in that moment, that you would kill for him. There is a seething anger boiling in your veins, but it is not about your destroyed home. It is about the fact that these monsters in men’s clothing would not have thought twice before cutting down this person who had become so dear to you.

With one hand, you reach for his medallion, fingers running over the grooves and ridges of the wolf. Underneath, you can feel his heartbeat, incredibly slow and steady, completely in contrast to your own, which is still threatening to beat right out of your chest.

It is not the time or the place, but before your mind can fully register what you’re doing, your lips are already on his; a bruising kiss full of need. He responds right away, kissing you back with matching fervor. Twilight has faded now, but the moon casts a cold glow on the forest, illuminating the trees and creating blue-tinged shadows. But you can see him, and you know he can see you, and that is all that matters.

Your cottage is gone, Nilfguaard may be on its way to find you, the world may be falling to pieces, but you had this – you had him.

His arms wrap tightly around you as he deepens the kiss. You can’t breathe, but it doesn’t matter. You shift slightly, so you are straddling one of his thighs. Despite the fact that you are quite literally in the middle of a forest, completely exposed except for the shade of the particularly large tree that the two of you had selected to stop and rest at, you find your hips already grinding against him greedily.

The White Wolf is being just as greedy, pulling at your top so that it opens up in the front. His hand slides between your breasts, tracing intricate patterns on your chest before finally tracing over a nipple. You break the kiss only to throw your head back in pleasure.

The chill of the air doesn’t bother you much, even as he pushes the material of your tunic off of your shoulders to gain better access to your bare chest. His touch ignites a fire in you, and you hardly notice anything at all save for that.

He brings his lips to your ear and gently nibbles at it, making you moan softly into the night air, before leaning back and quickly unfastening the leather buckles holding his armor in place. He pulls it off, tossing it to the side, before pulling off his shirt and throwing it haphazardly on the ground behind you. Before you have time to think, he shifts so he is on top of you. His shirt must be getting dirty from on the grass and mud, but neither of you seem to care.

One of his hands comes to rest on your throat, not quite placing pressure, but enough to have you wishing he was. You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes and whisper, “You won’t break me, Witcher.”

Before you can pull your lips into a smirk, he squeezes. Just enough pressure to take your breath away but not so much that you actually can’t breathe. The feeling has you seeing stars. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he says, his face only inches from yours before kissing you again. He grunts as you writhe beneath him, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth before pulling it between his lips and sucking on it, almost hard enough to leave it bruised.

After a moment, he lets go of your neck, hands grabbing at your wrists and pinning them above your head. Despite the objectively horrible events of the day, for some reason, you are glad for his roughness. It takes your mind off of everything else, and Gods, the look in his eyes is intoxicating. He is looking at you like there is nothing and no one else on the Continent that he would rather be looking at.

His lips move to your neck, tracing circles with his tongue. Immediately, he has you moaning. He nips at your neck a few times, and then his lips are up against your ear. You can hear the satisfied smirk in his voice as he mutters, “You like that, Huntress?”

All you can to is breathe out a barely audible yes as his tongue traces the shell of your ear. One hand easily keeps your wrists pinned above your head as the other traces down your torso down to your hips, squeezing hard. From there, his hand moves between your legs, cupping your most intimate area roughly through your leather leggings. Involuntarily, you grind up against his hand, trying to increase the pressure.

Geralt just smirks, looking down at you. “Nice try, Huntress,” he says, pulling his hand away. For what feels like an eternity, he just looks down at you, not releasing your hands and not doing anything to relieve the almost painful pressure you feel in your core. He cocks his head to the side, studying you for a moment, yellow eyes dilated from the dark of night and from pure lust.

“Geralt, please,” you find yourself begging, looking up at him with embarrassingly desperate eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet girl,” he smirks, “I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

And with that, he is pulling off your leathers and unfastening his own with lighting speed. It is mesmerizing how fast that man can move.

You gasp when, quite unexpectedly, he pushes two fingers inside of you. “Hmm,” he growls in your ear, “Already so wet for me?”

You whimper as he begins pumping his fingers in and out, taking care to roughly graze your g-spot. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you draw in a sharp breath as he adds a third large finger, stretching you even further.

Abruptly, he removes his fingers, finally letting go of your wrists. He places his fingers over your lips, and you eagerly take them in your mouth, tongue swirling over them. He lets out a satisfied groan as he looks down at you. “You’re a needy little thing,” he quips as he gently pumps his fingers, clearly enjoying the feeling of your sucking on them.

When he finally removes his fingers, you waste no time, eyes locking on his. “Fuck me, Geralt.”

“With pleasure.” Geralt smirks, setting those amber eyes on you and positioning himself between your legs. He stops, just at your entrance, leaving you gasping and looking up at him impatiently. Before you have a chance to speak again, he grins, baring his teeth and reaching one hand up to cover your mouth. You let out a soft noise of protest and he just shakes his head, not removing his hand. “Can’t let the Nilfguaardians hear you scream.”

And with that, he pushes into you and you groan into his hand, thankful for its presence there. He has already set a bruising rhythm, but your hips are already matching his speed. You can’t get enough of him. You should be distracted by the twigs and branches that are certainly getting caught in your hair as he pounds into you, but you’re not. Even the scratch of dead leaves finding their way between the clothing underneath you and your bare skin doesn’t bother you – it is more of a turn-on than anything.

Somehow, despite his quickening pace, he manages to hit the exact spot you are craving each time, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You arch your back up into him, reveling in the feeling – you are just about to release, and you know it, and then—

He stops abruptly, letting out a huff of air as he grins impishly down at you. You let out a disappointed whimper, and he only quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, come now, I thought we were having fun.”

You glower at him, even though you know he knows how much you are enjoying this. He laughs, a deep rumbling sound, and starts moving again, this time very slowly, driving you mad with each thrust of his hips. Once again, he seems to be hitting places that you didn’t even know existed, turning you into a writhing mess beneath him.

This time, as he increases his pace and you feel that familiar tightening sensation in your lower belly, he doesn’t let up. Tears well up in your eyes from the pleasure, and you moan into his hand. The world shatters into a million pieces as you finally release, and you are only vaguely aware of his voice as you are wracked with wave after wave of pleasure.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he growls, clutching you to him as he pumps in an out of you a few more times, thrusts growing more and more sporadic as he follows you into oblivion.

                                                        *     *     *

Twenty minutes later, the two of you are still cuddled together on the forest floor. He’s given you a shirt that must have been in his pack. It smells of him. He’s put back on his shirt and pants, and has his cloak spread out over top of you both, even though you are wrapped in your own cloak as well. But his body is warm, and you snuggle into him.

His arms are wrapped protectively around you, and with your eyes closed, it almost feels as if you are huddled up in a bed that no longer exists, in a cottage that has since burned to the ground. You try not to think about that – it is a worry for tomorrow. For now, you are exhausted, completely spent.

He appears to be staring up at the cloudless sky, and you wonder at how he is not tired. You know that the answer is probably something to do with his Witcher abilities, but you open your mouth to ask anyway.

“Geralt, what are you doing?” you ask, glancing up at his face.

“Thinking about destiny.” He says it so seriously, and without hesitation. You aren’t quite sure what he means, so for a moment you say nothing, just a noncommittal ‘hmm?’ as sleep threatens to take over.

“I was trying to outrun it,” he continues after a moment, as if hearing the questions running though your head. “But it seems I’ve run headfirst straight into it.”

Your heart flips in your chest. “You mean…?”

“Ending up in your forest. Yes.”

“And Cirilla?” you ask hesitantly. All throughout the day, as you and the Witcher had walked away from your old home and deeper into the woods, you’d been thinking about the girl that you’d run from all those years ago. The girl you’d run from rather than protect. It was clear he was also looking for this girl, but you hadn’t voiced the question that had been plaguing you—you’d felt certain that he’d say no; that he wouldn’t want anyone tagging along on such a journey, especially someone who had failed so miserably in her past.

The tiredness that had settled over you like a blanket seemed to evaporate. Perhaps this could be a chance to clear your conscience. It could be a chance to right a wrong. After all, you’d dreamed of her on several occasions. No matter how far you strayed from magic, the dreams never ceased.

The silence seems to draw on for ages before he finally speaks again, “I take it you’ve heard of the Law of Surprise?”

                                                         *     *     *

To be continued.

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99, @pantrashtic, @lilred254, @cilorawr, @blackravena, @keithseabrook27, @danielarlington, @jesseswartzwelder, @fairytale07​ @divaroze, @evyiione, @salmonbutter, @godsaverosemary, @dontforgetthepieh​ @little-miss-emmalie, @hookahpop, @jesseswartzwelder; @haru-ririchiyo; @unnamedmaincharacter​ @geeksareunique​, @divineslipcast, @lazilyscentedwerewolf​

[xxzoloxx]

Broken Record(Changlix)

!TRIGGER WARNING! mentions of suicide and self-harm.

Angst :(

maybe 18+ idk how rating works.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After everything that Changbin and Felix have been through, attempts at suicide, self-harm, and more, I don't think that It was enough it save Changbin.

When he walked into the room he heard the little whimpers and hiccups coming from his boyfriend. There were painful streams of tears flowing down his face. That was one thing that Felix never wanted to see again. He didn't know that he wouldn't have to after this. On top of the bed that was once shared by both of them sat Changbin, on his knees, and a gun pointed through the side of his head. His favorite black wool shirt that he got from Felix on their first date was draping over his shoulders. It was always a little too big for him. But that was okay because he liked it, and if he was happy, so was Felix. His collarbones were exposed, Felix could tell that he was eating less and less everyday, he was always worried about that.

The one thing that Felix definitely took note of was how Changbin's face screamed in agony. There were what seemed like thousands of creases in his face each holding their own horrible memory that bring him to do this. His nose was scrunched up, but not in the way he would when Felix told him a cheesy joke. No. This was different. And it even hurt Felix to look at. It tore him apart.

Every detail was imprinted into his mind forever.

He remembers the time, 5:27 PM. It was September 15th, a supposedly average day. There wasn't any crazy weather, just the norm, a light breeze, and cool temperatures.

He even remembers the way Changbin’s face softened slightly when he walked into the room. How he gave out a sad, heartbreaking smile. His smile was beautiful, one of Felix's favorite things.

That was the last good thing Felix saw before Changbin pulled the trigger. A deafening sound erupted from the room. Felix furrowed his eyebrows and covered his ears with his hands. There was ringing in his ears for a little while before his hearing slowly came back to him. Once he looked up he saw Changbin, on the opposite side of his head blood shot out and stained the wall, dripping down. Further, and further, until it reached the carpet. Staining that red as well.

Tears, ran down Felix's face before he even realized what happened. Changbin's lifeless body now lay on his bed. Their bed. The red liquid started to soak into the soft bed sheets.

Felix started ugly crying.

~~~

October 15th, 20XX

1 month after "the incident" Felix was in a delusional denial. The funeral didn't go well, he was a sobbing mess. And mid-way through he started acting as if Changbin were still with him, yelling at the people who tried to tell him the sad truth. He soon began to believe himself, greeting Changbin as he came home from work. Saying good morning and goodnight. It even came to the point of cooking for him as well. It was a rough time for the boy. He wasn't smiling as often. It just wasn't good for him, he cried himself to sleep every night. He usually had bags under his eyes, and, overall, looked like a walking corpse.

~~~

March 20th 20XX

6 months after "the incident" he has gotten past the delusional denial. Yet, now he's in a state of depression. He refuses to eat, and he rarely comes out of his room now. He's becoming malnourished. His collarbones are protruding from his body and his cheeks were disappearing.

~~~

October 15th, 20XX

A year has passed. Felix isn't any better. If anything, he's gotten a whole lot worse. He was now at the same stage Changbin was at when they had first met. Suicidal. Felix started to cut himself all over. His once flawless thighs and clear arms and wrists now had scars of painful remembrances of his baby. It wasn't good.

~~~

September 15th, 20XX

2 years have passed. Felix began to wonder how he made it this long. Eating very little every 4 days, bleeding out a concerning amount of blood every week. It was ridiculous. His friends and family had forced him to see someone, a therapist or something. That didn't help, he refused to take any medication given to him and he missed numerous amounts of their sessions.

"Do it for Changbin," they said.

"Changbin wouldn't want you to do this," they say. Then why did he leave?

~~~

Its been 1 month...

BREAKING NEWS!

A young 18-year-old boy by the name of Lee Felix was reported to have committed suicide. This was exactly 2 years after his boyfriend, Seo Changbin, on October 15th, 20XX at 5:27 PM he suffered from the same fate. His friends say that after 2 years of suicidal behavior he finally went through with it. They say that he left letters for every one of his friends and family, and even one for his deceased boyfriend, Changbin. The letter was not allowed to be read to the public for privacy purposes. But we are allowed to say that it was a heartbreaking one at the least. Prayers go to their family and friends that they keep their heads high, we send you the best of wishes..."

~~~

The last "I love you" you ever said to me is still playing inside my head like a broken record.

Felix was a deteriorating record, one that was slowly rusting, slowly breaking, slowly becoming nothing. And within time he was only going to be scratches and sounds over a loudspeaker. No one wants to hear that, right...?

~~~~~~

PLEASE! If you or someone you know has been thinking of taking their life or harming themselves please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:

1-800-273-8255

Its available 24 hours a day so please feel the need to call whenever you think you need to. There will be professionals on the line for you to talk to.

Suicide is the leading cause of death in the WORLD. Taking 800,00 wanted, and beautiful, unique, AMAZING humans from us each year. That amounts to roughly 1 death every 40 seconds. You are a wanted person, trust me no matter what kind of situation you're going through there will always be people on this Earth who want you alive. So if not for yourself, for them please stay alive.

Love you <3

Puff/xXZoloXx