#re watching the series right now bc i barely remember anything

[feelingthedisaster]

where are all my fellow 'watch the mentalist with their mom as a preteen'

[spencersawkward]

top shelf//MGG - part 1

summary: broke and having a bad day, Reader runs into Matthew outside a café. after a couple encounters, his financial support and friendship become something more.

word count: 3k

content warnings: swearing but nothing else!

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

A/N: hi! welcome to my new series. i don’t think this will be super long in terms of parts, but i’ll try to update as frequently as possible for you all. this chapter is pretty expositional, so i’m sorry in advance lol. also i know i made it short but lmk if you want them to be longer. also shoutout my sweet sweet angels @reidsconverse and @voidsfilm bc i would literally cry without both of you. also THANK YOU to @dr-spencerr-reidd for this concept bc i probably wouldn't have written it without your ask!! sending hugs :)

you throw your phone down on the passenger seat with a frustrated groan. after everything that's happened today, you're now stuck on a congested street with your car barely inside the parking spot alongside the sidewalk.

your screen sits there beside you, blank and unresponsive, and you know you're going to have to go inside the coffee shop to ask to use their phone and call Triple A. of course it's not working because nothing is working today. you might as well just sit in your car and cry.

but you can't, because you have a huge project for work that you need to get done by next week, and you've already procrastinated enough. a red glow from the headlights of other cars on the street shine through your windows like melted wax, distorted by the rain. it's been pouring all day.

bracing yourself for the onslaught, you grab the old umbrella from the foot well of the passenger seat and open the door of your car. the torrents hit your body like a wall of ice, soaking you as you try to get to the safety of the café. the umbrella helps a little, but then you get to the overhang and have to actually close it before you head inside.

your fingertips slip around the metal, trying to shove the thing closed while water drips off the bridge of your nose. it's frustrating. your footsteps are still determined as they move towards the entrance, but you're distracted by the stubborn nature of the object, so you don't see the man walking out.

it's not even a bodily collision, really. it's so much worse: the sopping material of the umbrella pokes him in the stomach, knocking the hot cup of coffee all over his sweater.

your eyes widen.

"oh my fucking god, I'm so sorry--" you stutter over your words, completely at a loss. his face is twisted up in an expression of concealed pain. it can't feel good to have hot coffee seeping through your clothes after being prodded by a piece of metal. you move your wet hair out of your face in order to look at him full-on.

"it's fine, really." he gives you what's supposed to be a friendly smile, but looks more like a grimace. your stomach twists; he's hot. like, if you saw him at the bar you would stare at him all night kind of hot.

"no, it's not," your face heats up, despite the cold, damp air. "let me buy you another coffee."

"I--" he glances down at his sweater, which is knitted with cute foxes on the front, then back at you. he pauses a moment and you have to bite down on your tongue to keep from collapsing. he's considerably older than you, but he doesn't dress or act that way. maybe late thirties, if you had to guess. "sure. thanks."

a flowering relief in your chest, partly because he doesn't seem angry and partly because you'd like to look at his face just a bit longer. your eyes stay on his until someone walks through the door of the café and reminds you of where you are.

without a word, you brush past and go into the building, him trailing behind.

Matthew watches as you walk ahead, your clothes spattered with rainwater and your hair somewhat messed up, too. he smiles to himself at the way you almost bump into the corner of a table, nervousness evident in nearly every movement.

you head to the counter, setting your hands on the granite while the barista checks out your unkempt appearance.

"hi," you smile at her before realizing you have no idea what this guy wants. you turn around and see him standing slightly behind you, suppressing a smile. he can tell how flustered you are, and now you look like a fool. "what coffee do you drink?"

"can I have a medium Americano, please?" he asks the barista with a friendly smile. he's got straight teeth, dimples... holy shit. you wish he had been unappealing so that this whole situation would be less humiliating.

you pay for his drink before getting out of the way, both of you slowly walking to the pickup counter.

"again, I'm really sorry. that stupid umbrella." you shake the thing at your side, raindrops falling to the floor. you run a hand through your wet hair.

"it's okay. I appreciate you getting me another cup." he flashes that smile again and you remember that his sweater is all stained. before you can think to do anything else, you pluck a handful of napkins from the self-serve station and start to dab at the material.

he looks down at you for a second, surprised by the way you grab his clothes. Matthew feels your hand pressing into his stomach innocently, and he feels himself blush a little. it's only when you pull away that he's able to regain his head.

"it's still bad," you throw away the napkins and re-evaluate the garment. "jesus christ, it's a nice sweater, too."

"hey, it's totally fine. I can just wash it out." he lets out a slight chuckle, and the sound makes your heart flutter. he's got a dad laugh. deep in his chest.

"baking soda and water." you say abruptly. he frowns.

"what?"

"to get the stain out? I use baking soda and water for coffee stains and it usually works." you explain gently, your eyes meeting again. his irises are a brownish hazel color, warm. the laugh lines by them are charming.

"oh," he grins. "do you get coffee stains often?"

you twist your mouth to the side and glance at the windows of the coffee shop. he's teasing you and you'd be remiss if you said you don't want to play along. "more than I'd like to admit."

you can feel him looking at you with that stupidly brilliant smile and it's really setting you off-kilter. someone shouldn't be that attractive; it's not fair. and yet you want desperately to stare, if purely for the sake of aesthetic enjoyment.

"I'm Matthew." he extends his hand, which is decorated with a series of rings. you realize that you don't even know his name.

"Y/N." you shake. his fingers are softer than you expected.

"nice to meet you, Y/N."

"and under such fortuitous circumstances." the corners of your mouth turn up as you relax a little.

he laughs at your words, the delightful ring of it interrupted by a new Americano showing up on the counter. he glances at the to-go cup, then at you, then goes to get his drink. you wish you knew what he was thinking, but he's not displaying anything past friendliness.

"well, um." something like disappointment settles in your stomach as you recognize this will be the last of your interaction. there's no reason for him to stick around, and you need to get back home to work, anyway.

"I'll let you get back to your day." Matthew doesn't seem nervous, just unsure as he grips the coffee in his hand. you open and close your mouth like something impressive enough to keep him here will come out. you know it won't.

and then you remember the state of affairs, the existence of your useless car and the useless phone in the front seat, how you're going to have to call Triple A and then your roommate to come get you.

Matthew realizes that you aren't going to say anything and he gives you one last smile and an awkward wave before turning to go. you watch in silence as he crosses the room to the door. two more seconds until he's out of your life forever. so of course you choose this exact moment to speak.

"wait."

his head jerks suddenly to look at you. this is embarrassing, but you have nothing to lose.

"can I... borrow your phone?"

Matthew tilts his head to the side slightly, frowning as though deeply confused. and you suppose it is a strange thing to ask, especially given that you're a younger person and most people your age carry their phones everywhere. "sure." he walks back over to you, pulling his cell out of his pocket.

"I just--" you fumble with the device while you decide how to phrase it without sounding like a pathetic mess. "my car keeps breaking down and my phone battery is, like, totally fucked, so it just turns off and on constantly and it’s still in my car but it’s raining and I just wanna see if it’s back on so I can call my roommate." you immediately cringe at yourself. the rambling isn’t cute.

he’s not too bothered by your panicking, though, his mouth only forming an O shape. "it’s no problem."

you dial your number, fingers trembling while he waits. he's turned his eyes to the rest of the coffee shop, but it still makes you nervous that he's standing right there. you put the cell to your ear and pray that it rings out.

you’re greeted by the sound of your own voice telling you to leave a message. great. with a frustrated sigh, you hang up and Matthew gives you an inquisitive expression.

“it’s still off,” you explain. “I’m gonna call my roommate.”

he nods and shoves his hands into his pockets while you punch in the other number. for a split second, you peek his way and admire his side profile. he really is something to behold; a model, maybe.

"hello?" good thing Cecilia has no problem answering unknown numbers. you bite your lip.

"hey, it's me."

"Y/N? whose phone are you using?"

"uh, someone I just met--" you frown as you try to find a way to describe him without something as insulting as a random guy. "anyway, my car broke down so I was wondering if you could pick me up."

there's a pause on the other end of the line, like the movement of sheets and the slightly disappointed groan of another person. she probably has her boyfriend over again. "sure, of course. where are you?"

you give her the address and hang up before dialing the car repair company. Matthew gestures to a table off to the side so that you two don't need to stand, and then you sit down across from him. you're so distracted by the person on the other end of the line that you don't even think about it.

Matthew twists his rings on his fingers. he's fidgety and it's sort of cute. you try not to stare at his hands, at the black spot of ink on the outside of his pinky. either he writes a lot or he's an artist. you have to focus on the table in order to keep from blushing.

finally, you finish up with the phone and hand it back to him. "you're a life saver."

"do you want me to wait with you until your friend gets here?" he gestures out the window. your immediate reaction is to say yes. it'll be awkward to sit here alone without your phone, without coffee. but you don't want to keep him any longer than you already have.

"it's okay, I'm sure you have places to be." you smile accommodatingly. he chooses his next words carefully, it seems.

"I don't, really. but I'll leave you alone if that's what you want, too." the way he speaks, offering his company without trying to impose... something about it makes your heart melt a bit. you appreciate his thoughtfulness. it makes you want to know more.

"okay," you nod as you make your decision. "if you wanna stay. it shouldn't be too long."

"great," he settles back into his chair, the light from the café lights above you reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. "why does your car keep breaking down?"

you exhale sharply at the thought. "that's a really good question, because I don't know the answer. it's super old and I'm too broke to afford a new one."

he nods.

Matthew's mind turns to different avenues at this knowledge. he knows you're young and that usually means that there isn't a lot of spare income. and he doesn't know if you have a job. but what he does know is that you've got an energy about you-- a sweet, well-intentioned manner that draws him in. every once in a while throughout the conversation, you throw out certain phrases that hint at a quick-witted intelligence.

you're funny, but not boldly so. and when you two get on the topic of how you ended up rain-soaked, shoving your way into a Los Angeles café, you tell him about your day.

"--and I have this shitty job right now working for one of my old professor's friends, so it's not like I can afford to constantly repair the damages. all my money is going towards my savings so I can pay for grad school, anyway." you sigh. he listens intently to your words, and he never shies away from eye contact. every time he nods along, you practically feel your heart leap.

"what do you do?" he asks.

"I write for a wellness magazine, but I'm sort of a fraud." you joke.

he laughs. "why's that?"

"I don't know, a lot of it is about different yoga methods and meditation, stuff like that-- but I don't do any of that in my daily life." you admit. it should be embarrassing, but you don't feel ashamed of the fact. he seems to find it funny.

"working your way toward a different kind of job, then?"

"I'm hoping for a more editorial role, honestly, but..." you lift your eyes to his. they're bright, he notices; full of a deep-rooted hope. "gotta start somewhere, right?"

"very true." Matthew wants to tell you just how much he understands, about the roles as an actor he's taken and the hours he spent making films in college, just hoping that one day he'd be able to make things on his own, but he doesn't want to scare you away or sound like he's bragging. it's not your fault you don't know who he is.

"sorry," you speak through a silence he doesn't realize he's left between you two. "I've talked your ear off and you don't even really know me. what do you do?"

"oh--" Matthew actually blushes this time. you see the pink creeping up his neck. "I'm an actor."

in the same way they did when you ran into him, your eyes widen. "an actor?"

"yeah," he smiles at the expression on your face. "you know that show, Criminal Minds?"

the name is familiar, but you've never seen an episode. "yeah, of course."

"I'm in that."

you don't know a lot about the program, but you've heard it talked about and you know that it's a popular show. so this guy is an actual actor, not just some LA wannabe. that makes him about five times more intimidating. you feel even more idiotic for not seeing it before.

"oh, shit," the words tumble out. Matthew grins at the bluntness of your reaction, and you scramble to recover. "sorry I didn't know who you are."

"no worries!" he laughs it off. "it's not a big deal."

"do you like it?" you ask. "being famous, I mean."

he shifts in his seat for a second as he makes a face like he doesn't know how to answer. you wonder if there's something deeper to him that you just haven't seen, yet. secret feelings about the subject. "I'm really not very famous, but I love the work."

genuinely humble. you can see it in his face, the sparkle in his eyes. and maybe he's just charming and you're just a girl blinded by his attractiveness, but your gut tells you that he's being real.

this time, you're the one who falls silent. admittedly, you get a little in your head sometimes. and it makes sense, now, the smoothness of his behavior and the sheer beauty of his face. this is a show business city-- of course he's famous.

Matthew's phone rings and he jumps, as if jolted from a dream. your attention moves immediately to the screen and you recognize Cecilia's number. he pushes the device over to you.

"hello?" your voice sounds far away.

"hey, I'm here. where are you?" she says.

"I'm just inside the café."

"oh, okay, I'll park and come in--" you hear the click of a seatbelt and start to panic. she can't see you in here with him.

"no!" you say too loudly. Matthew's head jerks up to frown at you.

"why not?" Cecilia asks, confused.

"no reason," god, you're a bad liar. "I'll come out and we can wait for the Triple A person in your car." you and Matthew make eye contact again. he gives you an understanding smile. your stomach flips.

"sounds good." she hangs up and you grab your umbrella. time to go.

"thanks for letting me use your phone." you stand, not really wanting to say goodbye but also lacking a reason to stay. he remains in his spot, seemingly now settled into this little corner of the café. it sort of suits him, this place. all cozy and slightly strange.

“happy to help.” you notice the tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip as if deliberating whether or not to say anything further. but he doesn’t and you feel awkward just standing there by the table.

“I’ll, uh…” you could ask for his number. but that would be weird, right? he doesn’t really seem to have an interest, anyway. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“yeah. it was nice to meet you, Y/N.” he gives one more of those killer smiles and you turn around, almost bumping into a display of coffee beans before correcting yourself and heading back outside.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @la-vie-en-amour1 @reidsconverse @voidsfilm

[angstymarauder]

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

[flowercrown-bucky]

I Put A Spell On You

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Modern!Loki x Reader, Modern!Thor x Reader, Loki x Wanda

Warnings: NSFW content - 18 plus ONLY (NSFW parts are in bold. If you do not wish to read this type of content, keep scrolling on past it.)

Summary: What do you do when you fall in love? Embark on a clandestine affair with their brother, of course.

Authors’ Note: Whoo! It’s the one we’ve all been waiting for. I didn’t think weld ever actually get here. My attention span isn’t good enough.

I’ve never written smut before so if you could, like, not be mean, that would be great. It was weird to write and re-reading it made me want to vomit cotton wool so it’s not fully proofread. Also, it’s sex from a female - Y/N’s - perspective bc as a woman I do not know how sex feels from a man’s perspective. If that’s what you were expecting, I do not know what to say. Sorry, I guess.

Start At The Beginning | Series Masterlist

Chapter Six - Concerning, primarily, the events taking place between forbidden lovers within Loki’s flat on a Thursday evening.

TAG LIST: OPEN (PLEASE COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED!)

Oh look it’s a different bum gif

London's West End, June 15th 2018.

Stepping into the bar on Old Compton Street was like stepping back in time. From the stone-laid floor to the warm red lighting, to the polished steel of the bar and the mirrored walls, from the second you set door in the bar you felt like you were in New Orleans in 1976, despite the fact you were not alive in 1976 nor had you ever in your life visited New Orleans.

Either way, you were on a sophisticated night out (Making a change from your normal crawl through Camden's finest), and sitting at the bar sipping a martini from a highball glass - as opposed to a can - you felt like pure class.

The tall blonde at the end of the bar had been watching you as you chatted with your friends all evening, and after five minutes of you glancing across at him, he'd approached you. Your friends had quickly disappeared in a cluster of giggles and overpriced cocktails, leaving you alone with the handsome stranger half a foot away from you.

You bit your lip, shyly looking away from his intense gaze.

He quietly introduced himself, his charm and easy smile drawing you in. You chatted for hours, yourself completely entranced by this handsome, beguiling man.

After many, many drinks, you found yourselves locking lips, messy and drunk and beautiful. Your teeth clashed and your tongues slid together, not caring who saw or what they thought.

"Something tells me." You murmured between kisses. "That I was meant to meet you tonight. Like the universe meant to bring us together for some reason."

He said nothing, opting instead to catch your lips in his once more.

Loki's Flat, Present Day.

You glanced up at Loki, your breaths heavy in your chest. His head bowed down to yours, his gaze intense in a way you'd never seen before, his own breath warm on the skin of your exposed neck. His grip tightened on you, his fingertips pressing into the flesh of you right waist. Words escaped you under his intense gaze, your breath hitched in your throat.

Your noses bumped gently as you leaned into each other, a gentle chuckle leaving his lips. Your heart hammered in your chest, blood rushing to your increasingly clammy hands. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if he'd notice how sweaty your hands had become through the thin material of his shirt.

You bit your lip awkwardly, watching his gaze slide down your face, stopping at your lips.

[I put a spell on you

Because you're mine]

You inhaled sharply as he leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours, bringing his hand up to the back of your head, pulling you into his kiss with a harsh tug on a fistful of your hair. The taste of red wine lingered on his lips, along with something so uniquely him that you were convinced wyou'd never get enough of it.

You gasped quietly, your lips parting slightly, allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. Your mouth pressed insistently against his, your hands grabbing at the back of his neck, allowing yourself to feel all the feelings you'd harboured since your first meeting.

[You better stop the things you do

I tell ya, I ain't lyin']

You gasped as his suit-clad knee pressed between your legs, his hand falling from the backing from the the back of your head to the small of your back, pushing you backwards. You squealed as the sofa hit the back of your knees, knocking you off balance. You grabbed out at Loki in a desperate attempt to steady yourself, causing both of you to topple backwards and land on the sofa in a tangle of limbs. Steadying yourself, you bit your lip to stifle a laugh.

Loki's eyes met yours, the grin on his face making it impossible to suppress your giggles any longer. The two of you laughed nervously as you untangled your arms and legs from each other. He held your face between his thumb and two fingers, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.

"You are everything." He whispered, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You blushed, leaning back up to kiss him.

[You know I can't stand it

You're runnin' around]

His fingertips were cool on your waist, slowly, gently, bringing your shirt up as they rose up your abdomen. Your kiss deepened as you ran your tongue across his lip, your mouths moving together sloppily, teeth and tongues clashing. Yet, his hand stayed still, remaining on the bare skin just under your breasts. You rolled your eyes, propping yourself up slightly on your elbows, reaching to unbutton your own shirt.

[I can’t stand it

‘Cause you put me down]

"You were taking too long." You breathed, wriggling out of your shirtsleeves.

"God, do you ever shut up?" He grabbed your thighs and rolled you over, one leg resting either side of him. Your shirt fell open as he began unbuttoning his own, your eyes trailing across his bare chest. The feeling of your skin on his as you removed the rest of your clothes, his mouth trailing kissses down your neck, was becoming unbearable, need burning in the pit of your stomach.

[I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine]

"Are you sure about this?" He asked. "This is what you want?"

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him again but he caught your chin in his hand, stopping you just short of his mouth.

"I need to hear you say it." His voice was desperate, almost begging you.

"I want this." You voice was soft. "I want you, Loki."

[You know I love you

I love you

I love you]

Your words elicited a noise you'd never heard before from his mouth, a deep, primal noise, almost a snarl. He grabbed at you roughly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, pulling you to him.

He unbuttoned his slacks, freeing his erect cock and lining himself with where tyou hovered above him. Slowly, he guided himself into your soft, wet entrance, eliciting a deep, primal moan from him. A slight groan left your lips, a groan of frustration and of him finally giving into his urges, of finally feeling every ridge of him inside of you. You felt his blunt head nudge at your sweet spot, every movement adding to your growing frustration.

You rocked your hips slowly backwards and forwards, feeling a moan of pleasure rippling through your chest as you felt him reach places you previously didn't know existed. He reached down, catching your hip in one massive hand. He bit his lip as he grabbed st the soft flesh. It would bruise tomorrow, you thought.

[I don’t care if you don’t want me

I’m yours right now]

His thumb slid across your increasingly sweaty navel, gently running his fingers over your clit, before pressing more firmly. A grin spread over his face as your breath caught in your throat, his fingers catching a rhythm as they rubbed gentle circles.

Your hands fell to his chest as he moved you, feeling him rock up into you. You wanted to touch him, needed to touch him, needed to feel like he was yours.

Could you die with this man between your legs? Quite possibly.

[I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine]

You couldn't speak, couldn't think of anything but him, hitting that one spot over and over and over again until you could barely breathe. You felt your climax building inside you, coiling in the pit of your stomach.

A filthy moan escaped your mouth as you came, your body spasming with pleasure. Loki followed quickly, riding out his high with slow, lazy thrusts.

[I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine]

"I love you." He breathed, cradling you to his bare chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but found yourself stopped by his finger.

"It's ok." His lips curled into a crooked smile that you thought your heart might die for. "You don't have to say it if it's hard to. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to be anything but you with me."

You smiled gratefully, your eyes suddenly heavy with the emotional drain of the day. As you drifted off to sleep, you were vaguely aware of him speaking, his voice low and soothing as he muttered in your hair, but you could not muster enough consciousness to focus on the words.

"I wish you were mine."

Loki woke with a groan.

Why was his body so heavy?

Where was the light coming from?

And what the fuck was that godawful noise?

He blinked, shifting his hand to rub his face.

What the fuck had he just touched?

It almost felt, like hair.

It was hair.

Your hair.

His whole body bolted into an upright position, his hands holding you carefully so as not to jolt you, reaching out for his phone. Eventually, his hand settled on it, and he flicked it on to check the time.

10:28 AM. Fuck.

43 missed calls. Double fuck.

He threw his head back, screwing his entire face up as he remembered exactly what had happened.

He’d bailed on Wanda, and ended up shagging his brother’s fiancé on his sofa, when he really should’ve been fucking his own girlfriend.

Oh, and now he was two and a half hours late for work.

Nice fucking work, knobhead.

His eyes flitted down to where you lay in his arms, and everything felt okay for a moment.

You looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, so authentically yourself, your hair splayed across his chest, the morning sun illuminating your features.

“Hey,” He rah one hand through your hair, gently shaking you. “Hey, little one, you need to wake up.”

You peered up at him with one eye.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You’d rung your manager, explained that you’d overslept, and you were pretty sure you’d just about gotten away with your job in tact.

You’d rung your sister, Sophie, explained that you really needed an alibi for last night in case your husband-to-be wanted to investigate your reason as to why you had randomly left and not come home or been contactable all night (You attributed this to a “family emergency”). She’d been suspicious, incredibly so when you wouldn’t tell her where you’d actually been - something you knew you would have to come clean to her about or come up with a really good excuse - but you were fairly certain she’d back you on this one.

Oh, and you sort of accidentally fucked Loki in the shower.

You weren’t even entirely sure how it happened. One minute you’d been rinsing soap suds off your arms, the next your back was against the wall, his lips on your neck, your hands tugging at his wet hair.

You didn’t know what had come over you. Come to think of it, you didn’t know what had come over you last night either. The connection between you, it was magnetic. You felt it the first time you’d met, and you were fairly certain it would only get worse now you’d been intimate with each other.

In all honesty, you didn’t feel as bad as you thought you would.

Not that you didn’t feel guilty. You had cheated on a man who loved you. Twice. You knew you’d done a terrible thing.

You felt guilty, for sure, yet you were slightly more concerned with the possibility of your little tryst being discovered. Was that guilt? You weren’t sure it was.

You were dreading seeing Thor, dreading getting yourself out of this one. How could you continue your life as normal, choosing cakes and dresses? You’d committed the rest of your life to this man. Could you live out the rest of your days living a lie?

“Hey,” Loki’s voice was soft, his hand cupping your face. “I really need to go to work, seeing as I’d quite like to keep my job.”

“Yeah.” You echoed. Me too.”

“I’ll call you later.” A gentle smile spread over his face as he stared at you. “It’s all going to be okay, little one.”

You wished you had as much faith as he did.

He kissed you gently, nothing more than a brush of lips on lips, shutting the door to his flat behind you. You felt slightly dazed as you ran down the steps, all the way into the parking lot where you’d abandoned your car.

The ticket tucked under the wipers was not what you needed to see.

You banged your head against the steering wheel as you settled in your seat. You could not shake the feeling that you were already neck-deep in hot water and the sand was still slipping from under your feet.

Oh, fuck.

—

[This chapter is a slightly different format. You may or may not have noticed, but every chapter is a named after and inspired by a song - this chapter directly contains lyrics.

One for the eagle eyed among you - whilst writing this I made a small amendment to Chapter Four. There’s a tiny detail that appears twice, once in Chapter Four and again in Chapter Five. Has anyone noticed what it is?

Also, shout out to anyone else out there who struggles to express emotions verbally. I feel like loki would understand that.

And to my sister, who gets her cameo in here.]

—

SERIES TAGS:

@jessiejunebug @sherlockfan4life @soapbox-moments @amour-delicate @milea @writingforthelonelysoul @justyourneighbourhoodretard @chxrryycola @erinlaufeyson @marvelousell @rogerrhqpsody @lolitsme42

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars LXX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m currently back in school and I’m not happy– Also, I’ve been re-reading the whole story bc I need to see if I’m not fucking up my plot and shiiit the first books just plain suck with all those typos lmao I’m suffering -Danny

Words: 2,983

Warnings: None!

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Five: Bulgaria vs Ireland.

Once the night sky was setting, they strolled around the field to look at the souvenirs several wizards were selling.

"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action... slow everything down... and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain — ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.

"Four pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.

"No way you're buying me those," Mel frowned, pulling out her own money and buying her own pair, which technically left her without money to spare, but she wasn't going to admit it. "No, don't even try to insist. This year you won't outdo my Christmas present and that's final."

"Don't bother," Ron also tried to reject Harry's offer, but it was too late for him.

"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry told him, giving Mel a pointed look. "For about ten years, mind. Hear that? If you had accepted my gift, Mellow, you would've had ten years to outdo me."

"Fair enough," said Ron, smiling down at the Omnioculars.

"Oooh, thanks, Harry! And I'll get us some programs, look —" Hermione walked over to the next stand.

"I know you're lying," Mel whispered once Ron and Hermione were far from earshot. "There's no way you'll stop giving them presents, you're too nice."

"And you're too stubborn," He replied with a smile. "But I'll find a way to outdo you, anyway."

When they went back to their tent, Mel threw two little green pins at Fred and George.

"I got you those, considering you wasted all your money on a stupid bet."

"It won't be so stupid once we win," George said, pinning the souvenir to his jersey. "Then you'll feel stupid."

"I'm looking forward to it," She grinned.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

They walked for about five minutes (Mel convinced Charlie to give her a piggy back ride) and talked animatedly about the game and their expectations. In front of them, there was the biggest stadium Mel had ever seen.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again... bless them!"

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

So they climbed all the way up, Mel caught a glimpse of some annoucements that were magically appearing across the field.

'The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family — safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer . . . Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain! . . . Gladrags Wizardwear — London, Paris, Hogsmeade . . .'

"Look at that!" Mel said in amazement, taking a seat next to Harry.

But Harry was no longer looking at the field.

"Dobby?" Harry asked loudly.

Mel turned around, behind them there was a creature tha looked a lot like a mix between a very big doxie and a really ugly cat. It had huge brown eyes and a big round nose.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" The elf squeaked.

"Sorry," Harry replied, "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir! My name is Winky, sir — and you, sir —" Its eyes fixed on Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," Harry smiled awkwardly.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!"

"How is he?" said Harry. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," said Winky. "Ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir. Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"Why not?"

"He is wanting paying for his work, sir." Winky replied in a very low, very frightful whisper.

"Paying? Well — why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again.

"House-elves is not paid, sir!" she said in a muffled squeak. "No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."

"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harry.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter. House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter," She gulped. "But my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."

"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" Harry frowned.

"Master — master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He's very busy," said Winky. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

"So that's a house-elf?" Ron examined Winky carefully. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby was weirder," said Harry.

"They have their own charm," Mel said absentmindedly.

Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and played around with them for a bit.

"Wild!" He said, turning the replay knob. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again... and again... and again..."

"Oh, stop it," Mel pushed down his Omnioculars, though she was grinning.

" 'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,' " Hermione read aloud her program.

"Oh that's always worth watching– National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show." Mr. Weasley added happily.

After a while of waiting and watching the stands get a little bit more crowded, the Minister arrived to their booth, he introduced a few people to Harry, holding a fatherly attitude towards the boy.

"Harry Potter, you know," He was talking to the Bulgarian Minister. "Harry Potter... oh come on now, you know who he is... the boy who survived You-Know-Who... you do know who he is —"

The wizard saw Harry's scar and pointing at it excitedly.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat... Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places... ah, and here's Lucius!"

The whole Malfoy family arrived at that moment. All wearing the same sneer.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do? And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk — Obalonsk — Mr. — well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else — you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

"Good lord, Arthur," Mr. Malfoy said in what sounded like the most false kindness she'd ever heard. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

"Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest." The Minister said almost at the same time, not really listening to the man.

"How — how nice," said Mr. Weasley.

"Guilty, that's what he is," Mel leaned to whisper in Harry's ear. "That man thinks he can fix anything with money..."

Harry barely nodded, his eyes fixed on Mr. Malfoy.

After they moved along, it didn't take long for Ludo Bagman to appear, looking rather excited and jolly.

"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message

(Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans — A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"

"Excuse me?" Mel leaned closer to the edge, alarmed. "Those aren't mascots– those are women!"

But after looking at them for about five extra seconds, Mel understood that those couldn't possibly be just women. They were too similar, same skin color and hair– they moved as if time went by slower around them. They were, in the most fascinating way, extremely ethereal, like the fairy godmothers of her fairytales.

The veela started to dance around the field; something warm spread over her chest. She felt at ease. She felt too at ease, actually. Something was wrong.

She remembered what Dumbledore had told her on one of their many lessons, 'Beauty in magic almost never equals good or safe.' Things that shone too brightly were often that way so it would blind you from its actual intentions.

She shook her head, blinking rapidly and noticing the movement on her left. When she turned she saw Harry, trying to climb the wall that protected them.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked harshly.

Mel reached for the back of his shirt and forced him to sit down. Beside him, Ron was sitting stifly on his place, and he was destroying his Ireland hat.

'Sirens' was the first thing she thought. Even though she now knew that mermaids didn't look at all like a veela, she was pretty sure the effects were meant to be similar. Luring humans to their deaths... and Harry had fallen right into their trap.

"Honestly!" Hermione rolled her eyes, sinking further on her seat.

"Really?" Mel frowned. "Is that all it takes for you to lose your mind?"

"What?" Harry looked at her in a daze.

"Nevermind," She groaned, directing her gaze towards the field again to watch the veela stand aside.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light re- united and merged; they had formed a great shimmering sham- rock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it —

"Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats.

"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Weasley.

"There you go," Ron shouted, giving Harry a handful of gold coins, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome — the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you — Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand — Krum!"

"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars.

"And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand — Lynch!"

"They all have Firebolts," Mel gasped. "There's no way Bulgaria can beat that!"

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF! And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

Her heart was leaping every so often she could hardly remain still. They game was thrilling, she even thought that a person like Erick, who didn't like Quidditch that much, would enjoy a game like this one. One could tell it was professional players out there, they moved around the field which such simplycity that even caused her to long for flying.

She thought about it for a second. Maybe, just maybe, she could try to join their school Quidditch's team this year. Harry said she was good enough, perhaps he wasn't lying.

The veela had lost control after watching their team losing by a great amount and transformed into some type of harpies, Mel thought Dumbledore would've been proud of her deduction skills, having figured out the veela on her own.

Krum, Bulgaria's seeker, had been severly injured, but that wasn't the only thing happening.

"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled abruptly. "He's seen the Snitch! He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Both seekers were now heading towards it at great speed.

"They're going to crash!"

"They're not!" roared Ron.

"Lynch is!" yelled Harry.

Right at that moment Lynch fell flat on the grass, Krum had suddenly flown up into the air.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" Charlie yelled

"He's got it — Krum's got it — it's all over!" Harry yelled back.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand. The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had hap- pened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH — BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

Mel turned at the comment, locking eyes with George who sent a pleased grin her way. Those two, she couldn't believe they were so lucky.

"What did he catch the Snitch for? He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!" Ron said in disbelief.

"I thought he was a genius," Mel snorted.

"He knew they were never going to catch up! The Irish Chasers were too good... He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all..." Harry explained.

"He was very brave, wasn't he? He looks a terrible mess..." Hermione said, peering to the field were the team was now standing.

"I love Quidditch!" Mel beamed. "Have you seen anything as impressive and breathtaking as that?"

"I don't think so," Harry replied, smiling.

He wasn't looking at the field, though.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," someone said behind them in a very thick accent.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, looking at the Bulgarian minister with wide eyes. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Vell, it vos very funny," said the minister.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman. "Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers — Bulgaria!"

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectac- ularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being sup- ported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Connolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a be- mused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that. . . . shame it couldn't have lasted longer. . . . Ah yes. . . . yes, I owe you . . . how much?"

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @omiwashere @thesuitelifeofafangirl @kylosleftbuttcheek @vernon-dursley @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight

[cruisercrusher]

Dicktiger week day 6- Bad Plan (unanticipated)

(Re upload bc tumblr messed it up the first time)

Well, Dick thought to himself with a sort of detached humour, this is one fine pickle I’ve gotten myself into.

The seconds on the bomb kept ticking down closer to zero. Dick looked back at the computer, the flashing screen, and back at the bomb. He sighed, far calmer than someone in his situation ought to be. But, if this was the end… well, this was the end.

After Dick and Tiger had gotten the information needed from Marco Guillespe to lead them to the surveillance tech he’d paid to have developed, Spyral had started dissecting it right away.

There wasn’t enough information there for them to recreate it themselves— thank goodness— but according to a series of emails that had been included in the files Dick had stolen, the code wasn’t finalized yet. Also thank goodness.

But now, after three weeks of nonstop deciding and analyzing and narrowing it down, Spyral had managed to pinpoint the location of the lab where he tech was being made.

Remote and half underground in some forgotten and barely inhabited area in rural India, Spyral was sending a small team to clear out the facility and steal the plans. So they could “make sure it didn’t get into the wrong hands”, or so they said, but Dick had little faith they wouldn’t simply replicate it for their own uses.

Spyral teetered the line between evil and technically-not-evil on a good day. This surveillance program, absurdly unethical in its invasiveness by all worldly standards, would be the exact kind of thing that would push Spyral right into the fully evil category.

That was something that Dick couldn’t let happen. The whole reason he was even with Spyral was to stop that from happening.

Pretty lucky, then, that he and Tiger were the leads on this mission.

They moved in silently, surrounding the lab on all sides. Tiger gave the signal, and the agents moved again, slipping in past the alarms and security, following Dick’s lead inside

As much as there were many aspects of being a spy that Dick did not enjoy at all, this was pretty firmly in his comfort zone. Stealth missions were familiar territory.

Of course, the next phase wasn’t very stealthy at all, but the former vigilante would cross that bridge when he got to it.

Until then, Dick snuck through the facility towards the main security office, tailed by four more agents backing him up.

Neutralizing the security guards in the office and taking control of the building was easy. They hardwired the distress alarm so it wouldn’t go off when they destroyed the lab, and Dick sent the all clear signal to Tiger and his team.

Then he was out the door and making his way to the main lab, this time not caring for stealth— now, time was of the essence. He took down security guards as he went. He left the unconscious bodies like a trail of breadcrumbs behind him, knowing Tiger’s team would be sweeping the halls and clearing everyone out of the building.

He hadn’t even needed to pull his gun yet, instead continuing to use his signature escrima sticks— he was glad Spyral let him use them.

Dick slid down the ramp leading underground towards the lab and took a running head start once the door was in sight. He aimed a flying kick and busted the door right in off its hinges with a thunderous bang.

“Sorry to crash the party,” Dick smirked even though he knew none of the shocked software engineers inside could see his facial expression, brandishing his escrimas, “but—“

He was cut off by Tiger and his team coming in behind him.

“Enough of your quips, 37.” Tiger said, then, to the room at large, “You’re all under arrest. I suggest you come quietly— struggling will be futile and no one is going to come for you if you scream.”

Tiger barely even had to point his gun at the room of scientists for them to immediately drop what they were doing and raise their hands in surrender. The other agents started filing them out of the room, and Dick went over to the main computer to get to work just as a large metal crate was wheeled in.

This lab had way more thorough security measures than Guillespe’s desktop did, that was for sure-- for one, getting into the main computer was a little more complicated than a simple password. And surely there would be more roadblocks and traps to come-- but Dick was prepared for those.

Dick focused on getting into the computer while Tiger directed his agents to wheel the crate over to near the computer system where Dick was working and open it up. Inside was one of the three bombs they were going to use to blow up the facility. He watched out of the corner of his eye as they got it set up and ready to go. Tiger walked over and watched over Dick’s shoulder as he kept working at the computer.

“You’re confident you’ll get out with the plans in time?”

To the untrained ear it just sounded like Tiger was reaffirming the mission was set to go smoothly, but Dick was no untrained ear. He smiled up at his partner.

“Aw, don’t you worry ‘bout lil’ ol’ me, Tony,” He said, saccharinely sweet, even reaching up to pat Tiger on the cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ugh,” Tiger pulled back with a groan of disgust. “Don’t call me that. Just keep your comm in and don’t do anything stupid, you idiot.”

“How could I?” Dick gestured to the computer. Beside them, the other agents finished setting up the bomb and got it online. “What could I fuck up from here?”

“I’m sure you could find plenty.” Tiger retorted, then pressed a finger to his comm to check in with the rest of his team and the bombs. “Is everything synced up?”

He must have gotten affirmatives, because then he nodded at the other agents, and they all left the room, probably to finish clearing the building while they still had time. Tiger made to follow them out, then turned back to Dick.

“Remember--” Tiger pointed a stern, bordering on menacing finger at him, “The mission protocol. If you do not have enough time to download the plans and get out, then evacuate immediately. Don’t be a self-sacrificing idiot. Understand?”

Dick laughed. “Aw, Agent 1,” he crooned. “Careful. I might start to think you care about me.”

Tiger scoffed and turned away once more. “Of course not. I am not attached to you, we are partners, not friends.”

“Partners with benefits,” Dick reminded him, just to be annoying. Tiger smacked him upside the head.

“You’re wasting time,” he grumbled, and left without another word.

As soon as Dick was alone in the room he spun around in the chair, the smile falling from his face and replaced with a more somber one.

You cared about your last partner, he thought bitterly. And look how badly I managed to fuck that up for you.

There had been too many variables, too many unknowns for him to have been able to form a solid plan on how to destroy the tech plans and make it seem like he hadn’t done it on purpose, so he was going to have to do a lot of improvising.

He glanced at the clock on the bomb. It had started counting down already-- they were on a tight schedule, Spyral could only hang around here for so long before someone noticed-- but there was still plenty of time. There should have still been plenty of time.

Dick went back to work on hacking into the computer. He had to make it seem like he at least tried, after all.

Things had been going perfectly well, everyone had been arrested and cleared out of the building on time, the bombs had been set up and were set to go off on time, all the other agents had gotten out on time, and according to Dick’s last update he would also be done and out on time. But still, a sense of unease followed Tiger as he paced just outside the blast zone at the entrance to the facility. He checked the remote detonator in his hand-- there were only two and a half minutes left on the timer before the bombs would go off. He frowned and looked back at the open entrance, then back down at the timer.

He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he thought having Dick alone in there was a glaring flaw in the plan-- not even for logistical reasons. It was exactly as Dick teased him about earlier-- he was worried.

Dick should be out by now-- down to two minutes, and it would take that long, even running at top speed, for Dick to make it from the main lab to the entrance and out of the blast zone.

Something wasn’t right. He activated his comm and was about to demand another update when suddenly a blast door slid shut over the entrance to the facility, inside, through the quickly closing gap, a red light was flashing that had not been before, and they could distantly hear an alarm. Tiger and the other agents yelled out, running back to the entrance, but it shut before they got there.

Damnit, Tiger thought, gritting his teeth. “Damnit!” He repeated out loud. Then into his comm, “Agent 37, what is going on down there! Agent 37, respond!”

“Okay, that should be about it…” Dick muttered to himself. “Just gotta plug in and…”

He’d managed to get through all the different layers and levels of security right on schedule, all while brainstorming stories of failsafes and corrupted files, and was finally ready to enact the final step of the plan. He pulled the USB out of his pocket and plugged it into the computer-- and that was where things went wrong.

All of a sudden every screen in the whole lab turned red-- and the lights overhead turned red and started flashing, and an alarm started blaring so loud Dick had to cover his ears.

“Shit, what the fuck!” Dick yelled over the blaring siren, looking back at the main screen-- there was a message displayed in large black text over the red background. ‘UNAUTHORIZED DATA READER INSERTED. INITIATING FAILSAFE 22B-1’

“Fuck!” Dick heard a sudden heavy metal thunk behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see a secondary blast door had closed over the entrance to the lab. “Fuck!”

He ran over and started looking for a way to get the door open just as his comm crackled to life.

“Agent 37, what is going on down there! Agent 37, respond!” Tiger roared in his ear. Dick could barely hear him over the alarm.

“Uh,” Dick shouted back, still scrutinizing every inch on the seal of the door. “I think I’m trapped inside!”

“Inside the building?”

“Inside the main lab! There was a second emergency door that closed over the doorway, and I can’t get it open and I don’t have anything to break it open with!”

“Fuck!” Dick heard Tiger yell through the comms.

“Fuck!” Tiger yelled. He reared on the agent closest to him. “Get this door open!”

“Agent 1, with all due respect--” the agent replied, “There’s only one minute left before the bombs go off. Even if we could get the door open, we wouldn’t be able to get Agent 37 out in time.”

Another agent pitched in-- extremely unhelpfully, in Tiger’s opinion. “We need to clear out of the blast zone.”

Tiger snarled, and spun away from the door, following the rest of the team back out of the blast zone towards the shuttle. Blood was roaring in his ears, he could feel the tips of his fingers tingling with oncoming numbness. Dick is going to die, he thought helplessly, trying not to choke on it. He’s going to die.

“Agent-- Grays-- Dick,” Tiger said into his comm. “I-- I’m sorry… we--”

Well, Dick thought to himself with a sort of detached humour, this is one fine pickle I’ve gotten myself into.

The seconds on the bomb kept ticking down closer to zero. Dick looked back at the computer, the flashing screen, and back at the bomb. He sighed, far calmer than someone in his situation ought to be. But, if this was the end… well, this was the end.

Resigned to the knowledge he wasn’t getting out of there, Dick walked away from the door and slipped under the desk furthest from the main computer, tucking himself into a neat little ball in the tight space.

“Agent-- Grays-- Dick. I-- I’m sorry… we--”

“I know, Tiger.” Dick said. “It’s okay.”

He couldn’t see the timer on the bomb from there, but he knew there were only seconds left. He closed his eyes. “I--”

The first thing Dick felt when he woke up was confused. The second thing he felt was pain.

He cracked one eye open against the bright white lights above him, trying and probably failing to stifle a groan of extreme discomfort. It took a second for him to realize someone was there, and that someone was talking to him. He slowly, slowly and painfully, turned his head-- his neck was in some kind of semi-brace-- to the side.

Helena was standing to his right, looking over some kind of clipboard in her hand. “You sustained severe internal and external damage from both the blast and the whole building falling down on top of you,” she was saying. “Some burns, mostly lacerations, broken bones and damaged organs. Both your legs are broken-- your right tibia and your left femur, and so is your collarbone and your left humerus. Several ribs. We had to do extensive surgery on your knee, it was all kinds of messed up. Your lungs were severely damaged, one punctured by a rib. Your stomach was also damaged, but not punctured, and you can thank God that your spine is still completely intact.”

She finished her speech, setting the clipboard aside and finally actually looking Dick in the eye. “But despite all that, somehow, you’re expected to make a full recovery. Welcome back to the land of the living, 37.”

There was a hint of a smile in her eye. Dick squinted at her, still struggling to comprehend pretty much everything. All of that went completely unprocessed. “...Huh?” His throat and tongue both felt like sandpaper.

Helena blinked, and looked at her watch. “Oh, your painkillers are probably worn off by now,” She said. “I’ll give you another dose.”

“N--no, I don’t need--” Dick tried to protest on instinct, but the second he tried to move sparks of pain went rocketing up and down his entire body, and he couldn’t stifle his cry of pain this time. Helena nodded.

“I’m giving you another dose.”

Dick watched, detached and still confused, as she administered the painkillers. “So… I’m not dead?”

Helena couldn’t help her smile this time. “No, you’re not dead,” she laughed. “You have the big guy over here to thank for that.”

She pointed towards the other side of the bed, (Dick only just then registered he was in a hospital bed in a private room in the medbay) and Dick-- slowly-- turned his head to look. To his shock, slumped over in the hard plastic chair and fast asleep, was Tiger.

“You have no idea how many agents’ heads he almost bit off demanding we dig you out of there.” Helena continued. “He yelled at me, too, when you got back. A lot. The man has balls of steel. And a soft spot for you, it would seem.”

This time her smile was a little softer, a little indulgent. “I understand the feeling. He refused to go and rest pretty much the entire time you were in surgery-- we could hardly even get him to sit down. He didn’t crash until it was confirmed, with certainty, that you were stable and going to pull through.”

Dick looked back at Tiger with no small amount of wonderment in his eyes. Helena reached down and patted his undamaged shoulder. “Get some more rest, now. I’ll save your debriefing for until you’re a little more lucid.”

With that she turned on her sharp heel and stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Dick watched her go and then turned his head again (moving was easier now that the meds were kicking in) to rest his gaze on Tiger’s sleeping form. He tried to remember if he had ever actually seen Tiger sleep before.

Tiger ducked and sheilded his eyes on instinct when the building exploded, despite knowing they were out of range of debris. He stared at the site as the explosions continued to light up the night sky and tear the building apart, the ground around it ripping up and caving in on itself, knowing and not caring about the openly distraught expression that was surely on his face.

Everyone else watched in silence, and Tiger fought the urge to fall to his knees in the sand.

Dick… no…

No.

Suddenly Tiger face hardened and he clenched his fists, turning back to his team before the dust had even settled.

“Agent 14,” He snapped. “Call in backup, we’re going to need debris removal hardware and a full search team.”

Lucky for everyone around, the agent didn’t protest or question him, just ducked immediately into the shuttle to contact HQ. Tiger turned back to the destroyed facility, determination pulling the lines of his body stiff like stone.

I’m not losing another partner tonight, he thought. I refuse.

I am not losing him.

Tiger jolted awake, jerking in the chair and almost punching himself in the face when the hand he’d propped his cheek on slipped. He shook his head, trying to clear it of lingering bad memories that had chased him into sleep, and caught his eye on movement from the hospital bed before him.

Dick was awake, eyes wide open and slowly trying to reach towards him with his-- mostly-- uninjured arm--

Dick was awake!!!

He almost fell out of his chair, spared a second to feel embarrassed by his displays of clumsiness, and grabbed Dick’s hand out of the air, placing it back at the man’s side on the bed.

“Grayson--” Tiger resisted stuttering when Dick didn’t let him retract his hand, his grip surprisingly strong for someone who had just survived an explosion. “You-- you… idiot.”

He seethed suddenly. “Didn’t I tell you not to do anything stupid! Didn’t I give you clear and strict orders not to--” He cut himself off when he saw Dick start to smile, then smile wider, then start to laugh.

It was a soft and raspy thing, Dick’s voice rough from lack of use in the days he had remained unconscious and sedated, by no objective terms should it have been beautiful in any way--

And yet--

And yet…

Tiger looked away. “Stop that,” He muttered. “Stop it. You could have died. You were going to die. You-- I--”

Words failed him, and Dick’s expression softened. “Sorry,” he said. Not teasing. Not poking fun at anything. Just genuinely apologetic for making Tiger worried, for making Tiger upset. Tch. As if it had actually been his fault at all… no one had predicted the lab would seal itself.

“Idiot,” Tiger said, squeezing Dick’s hand before he could think better of it. It was the only thing he could think to say. Dick grinned again.

“Pretty badass that you yelled at Helena,” he said, and Tiger blinked-- how did he know about that?-- “And you… well, you saved my life. Again. That’s two I owe you now, right? I should say thank you.”

Tiger looked down, finally tuggung his hand free of Dick’s-- and immediately missed the contact. “Idiot,” he muttered again. “You don’t owe me anything. Now get some more rest.” He stood from the chair, and Dick obediently settled back into the pillows.

Tiger walked around the bed towards the door, and made to leave, but paused despite himself in the open doorway. “I’m… glad you’re alright, Dick.” He whispered, unsure if Dick would even hear it. Then he flicked the light off and left, closing the door behind him. He didn’t look back.

No matter how badly he wanted to.

[janiedean]

Honestly, I would like to hear you rant about Brienne's s5 storyline and her killing Stannis. It felt weird to me that in the book there's this whole thing with Lady Stoneheart wanting revenge and using Brienne as a tool to to try and get it tho she probably won't get it, and then in the show it's Brienne still seeking revenge for Renly and actually getting it. Like there's a "revenge isn't actually a good thing" theme that got lost along the way.

... lmao.

well okay this is not for renly fans so just so you know, you’re warned.

now.

I don’t have.... like, anything specific against renly nor I think he’s a Bad Person which is why in modern aus I just let him be his best version, but.. canon renly Is An Asshole when it concerns his brother, his niece and brienne and that’s A Thing because like sorry but skipping succession ‘because no one likes you but they like me’ is not a good reason to do anything, ‘my niece is so ugly ew grayscale’ is just bottom level of being... let’s just say vapid, and it’s canon that the reason he keeps brienne around is not that he cares about her, it’s because he knows she’s good at what she does and doesn’t want nothing in return and actually would die for him, which........

considering that brienne would have died for renly because he was nice to her once and danced with her which is like bare minimum for decent human being, sorry if I side-eye this narrative that renly believed in her etc because sorry guys renly in asoiaf canon didn’t give a single fuck about that;

specifically, when it comes to brienne renly is that one crush you get at some point that you’re in love with the idea of, not with the person they actually are, and as someone wise said on some post once, brienne thought she would die for him and didn’t and didn’t know she could die for jaime but she immediately knew when she had the choice, so I think that just seals it, but ahead with that...

affc is also about brienne getting over renly because she was in love with the idea of renly, not with renly himself, never mind that renly wasn’t in love with her anyway and could have never been. like, all of her affc povs are about that. she thinks about him less and less, she superimposes jaime on him like ffs when she’s naked in the bath she has to MAKE HERSELF THINK ABOUT RENLY, at some point she dreams of renly’s death except it’s jaime in his place, then jaime puts renly’s cloak on her shoulders and at the end of it when she has that dream which is sort of very similar to jaime’s in asos where he sees people he thinks he disappointed and she sees renly and cat.... well. it’s because she thinks she disappointed them, or that she failed them, but she’s plain not in love with him (or his idea of) anymore;

now, she also swore to cat she’d kill stannis in revenge for him... and she’s never so much as thought about it. ffs there is ONE single instance of brienne thinking about stannis in affc. THIS ONE:He shrugged. "Sometimes. At tourneys, from afar. Once at Baelor's Sept. The gold cloaks shoved us aside so he could pass. Another time I was playing near the Mud Gate when he come back from a hunt. He was so drunk he almost rode me down. A big fat sot, he was, but a better king than these sons of his."They are not his sons. Stannis told it true, that day he met with Renly. Joffrey and Tommen were never Robert's sons. This boy, though . . . "Listen to me," Brienne began. Then she heard Dog barking, loud and frantic. "Someone is coming."IT’S WHEN SHE RECOGNIZES THAT GENDRY IS ROBERT’S SON AND THAT STANNIS WAS RIGHT WHEN HE SAID TOMMEN AND MYRCELLA WEREN’T HIS. that’s it. that’s all brienne has to think about stannis in affc. she doesn’t think about killing him once.guess why? because meanwhile she’s found better things to think about and she doesn’t feel the need to avenge renly as much as she feels the need to fulfill her vow to catelyn and jaime and she’s fucking over renly and she has realizes at least subconsciously that guess what she didn’t want to die for him;

the entire point was that she is over her crush on a guy who might have been decent to her though it was the bare minimum anyone should have shown her but who didn’t give two shits about her personally and that she thought she could and would die for, and sorry if being willing to die for someone because he danced with you isn’t healthy as much as people don’t want to accept the fact that brienne has Issues with the capital I;

therefore, the moment the show dragged her north FOR RENLY and OMG I HAVE TO KILL STANNIS FOR RENLY before getting her stuck watching a tower for a season for that crap joke of a winterfell storyline and don’t get me started on how they made brienne’s sl secondary to sansa for three seasons when surely her point in her narrative is not that ita) ignored that brienne had a character arc that included getting over renlyb) elevated renly to sainthood (forget saint tyrion) because it implied that yes he was that nice dancing with her so yes he deserves her avenging his death when sorry but what the fucking fuck he just paid her the bare minimum it didn’t mean she should have joined his army for it or that she should avenge him for having being a decent person oncec) made it look like renly actually gave a shit about her for real when lmao nod) trashed lady stoneheart when as you said they lost the REVENGE IS A BAD IDEA theme and all that she brought with bc stoneheart is fundamental for both jaime and brienne as characters but hey let’s just stick brienne serving other people without a personal storyline and let’s not let jaime have his arc because what the fuck amritee) missed all of the themes in her affc arc because where was meribald? where was the anti-war message? where was the fact that brienne is a vulnerable person with doubts? we saw none of that shit except oMG SHE KILLED STANNIS BADASSSSS. yeah, no. character assassination my old friend here we are;

now, specifically re stannis: what angers me on a molecular level in that choice, not counting the fact that never in my life I ever want to see character #1 I relate to in a series (and period) kill character #2 I relate to in that same series without any goddamned reason to do that but that’s personal is that....... since brienne doesn’t give a fuck about avenging renly anymore in the book it’s very likely that if she and stannis meet again they might actually like talk about things and now I’mma give you the other hot take of the year....

... which is that I would like it if people saw that actually if brienne were to get along with one baratheon brother, she and stannis would have a lot more chances to hit off than she and renly ever could have because sorry but:a) they’re both introverts with huge issues communicating with others who also have been treated like shit for their entire lives based on people judging them before they opened their mouthb) as much as brienne isn’t THAT hard on it she has a sense of justice that he’d definitely appreciatec) if we assume that a guy with a daughter with grayscale whom renly also referred to as ‘that ugly daughter of his’ who is considered disfigured by everyone who still treats her like his only heir and doesn’t gaf about her looks would give two shits about brienne’s looks and not about her skills instead then we assume wrong nvm that stannis has a hand who used to be an illiterate commoner and melisandre used to be a slave like.... come on he’d definitely treat her with respect and not just because he needs herd) reverse, if she saw how he is with his daughter thaaat might remind her of her father not having forced her to marry eventually and agreeing to let her join renly/learn swordfighting instead I mean... come one) never mind that as stated before both of them are way more similar when it comes to take your vows seriously than notlike........... okay but with these premises if they meet when they need all the men they can spare to fight the white walkers I’d presume they will actually talk about renly’s death and get an understanding, not that she’ll take out a sword and impale him there especially if it’s post lady stoneheart which is the point in her sl where she 100% understands you can’t follow all of your vows and you will have to choose at some point (btw she chose jaime already over stoneheart and we all know it bye)...

which means that having her kill him in the show after a thing they made happen from 0 to 180 just to make him look irredeemable, for renly when brienne doesn’t gaf in the books anymore and reinforcing this - excuse me - bullshit narrative of saint renly who was the ideal king and never did anything wrong except trying to pass over stannis who was ahead of him in the line and further creating drama in that damned war because his brother didn’t happen to be immediately likable (nvm that I have issues with the fact that renly doesn’t even seem to remember having been at storm’s end during the siege which means that stannis made sure he actually had to eat while everyone else was starting to consider cannibalism but hey who cares that my brother almost died and never let me starve with the entirety of the castle I’ll now go and stab him in the back because NAAAH WHY SHOULD I SUPPORT HIM? sorry but what the fucking fuck) while stannis was an asshole who eventually got what he deserved because he wasn’t fun amrite will never not irk me to a molecular level because that wasn’t brienne’s storyline anymore and it hasn’t been since asos, the renly vs stannis situation is way more complicated than renly was nice and stannis was an asshole, stannis is nowhere near the piece of cardboard dnd think he is and the fact that both characters didn’t move on from their renly-related trauma but that it went down in the cheapest most ooc way ever should have woken people up about how dnd couldn’t be trusted for shit with these books if the WF adaptation of the adwd storyline hadn’t showed that already.

tldr: it was ooc and an insult to both characters and also can we stop with the saint renly narrative, thanks.

[voldesimsx]

get to know me tag

I was tagged by @peachiiesims! Thanks for the tag! Haven’t done one of these in a while, lmao. Forewarning: I’m pretty boring and indesisive. 

1. Dogs or Cats? I love cats, but I’m allergic so I’ve only ever had dogs. So, dogs! But I like the idea of both equally. 

2. YouTube celebrities or normal celebrities? Youtube, I guess? I’m not a big celebrity person but I guess I care more about how Dan and Phil are doing than like, Katy Perry or something. But like, if by youtube celebrities you mean like, idk James Charles or something then they’re honestly rated the same as regular celebrities in that I couldn’t care less about them or their personal lives. 

3. If you could live anywhere where would that be? A beach house somewhere with good weather and warm waters. So, Hawaii I guess? But I’ve never been so I can’t say for sure if I’d want to live there, esp with how expensive and tourist filled it is. 

4. Disney or DreamWorks? Disney, bc I grew up on those movies and watching the disney channel and going to disneyland. 

5. Favorite childhood TV show? As a little little baby kid, Blues Clues. Then Powerpuff Girls, Kim Possible, and ATLA as I got progressively older. 

6. The movie you’re looking forward to most in 2020? I honestly didn’t remember what movies were coming out in 2020, and had to look it up lmao. Uh, the Harley Quinn movie looks fun and my fingers are crossed that they won’t ruin Artemis Fowl, but my hopes aren’t high.  

7. Favorite book you read in 2019? Didn’t get to read many books, mostly fanfic, so I guess my re-read of Good Omens. 

8. Marvel or DC? I prefer marvel movies to DC, but prefer DC characters and comics. 

9. If you choose Marvel favorite member of the X-Men? If you choose DC favorite Justice League member? Nightcrawler and Batman, respectively. 

10. Night or Day? Both? I love certain aspects of each too much, and when I see more of one than the other I either get sad or less productive, lol. So I gotta have both in balance. In terms of Aesthetic(tm) though, night. Both for the starry sky and the hazy soft glow of the moon just barely making dark trees and unlit houses visible, and for the bright neon lights that illuminate the streets and set cities aglow with life and color. 

11. Favorite Pokémon? Absol! Though I have a soft spot for most Dark and Ghost types like the former wanna-be emo I was. Also Snivy, who was my first ever starter bc I got into the games later than the anime, lol. 

12. Top 5 bands: I’m not a huge band person, I mostly just pick out like, what songs I like. Fall Out Boy is probably my favorite, though? But I can’t really like, pick anything after that. A lot of pop punk and clasic rock bands.  

13. Top 10 books: Uh, Harry Potter Series, The Bartimaeus Sequence, The Complete works of Sherlock Holmes, Watership Down, Discworld series, Gemma Doyle Trilogy. And a lot more. But I haven’t read many books in a while, it’s been mostly fanfic so a lot of the books I love are from highschool or my childhood, lol. 

14. Top 4 movies: Uhhhhh, Inception, Gaurdians of the Galaxy, Howls Moving Castle, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. 

15. America or Europe? America, but I’ve never been to Europe so I guess I can’t say for sure. I like the weather where I live, real lemonade, and weather in Fahrenheit rather than Celsius, lmao.  

16. Tumblr or Twitter? Tumblr. I understand it better and I like how versatile it is. 

17. Pro-choice or Pro-life?  Pro-choice, but I don’t really want to get into politics on my fun sims account bc I like to keep things separate and real life is where I put my political ideas and discussion, not here.  . 

18. Favorite YouTuber: Uhhh, idk, I love watching a lot of different people, but  I guess Prozd? His skits are funny, he makes good board game reviews, and I love his lets’s play channel he runs with his friend Mankey and especially their Ace Attorney series. They just started AAI1 a bit ago and I’m so hyped for it!  

19. Favorite author? I know she’s been kinda annoying lately and idk how I feel about her right now, but JK Rowling literally shaped who I am as a person. Harry Potter has had such a strong impact on my life. And will always be my favorite book series. 

20. Tea or coffee? I don’t really like either, but I guess I’ve had more (incredibly milky) coffee in my life. Unless iced tea counts. 

21. OTP? I read fic more for plot than romance, but I guess the most major ships I care about that I’ve read in my life, in no particular order, are: Tododeku, Drarry, Zutara, Victor/Yuuri. Like, I ship a lot of things (a whole lot, lmao) but I’ve never really had a full on ‘it’s only this couple for me, no other fandom ship compares’ OTP. 

22. Do you play an instrument/sing? I like singing for fun! But never like, learned how to do it properly outside of a bit of musical theater as a kid. I tried learning the clarinet but wasn’t having fun. I would love to try and learn the piano again, someday, though! 

I tag, uhh, @simmancy @anastacialove @simbience @pixlmonster if you want to do this, do it! If not, then don’t though, lmao. Or if you’ve already done it. And any of my other followers who want to, consider yourself tagged and do this! 

[paladinsuho-moved]

it ain’t me [min yoongi]

SUMMARY: you get tired of him crawling back to his gang, ages after he promised he would leave for your sake. but a not so small misunderstanding almost ruins everything. 

somewhere along the lines, we stopped seeing eye to eye. you were staying out all night, and i’d had enough.

no, i don't wanna know where you've been or where you're going, but i know i won't be home and you'll be on your own.

who's gonna walk you through the dark side of the morning? who's gonna rock you when the sun won't let you sleep?

who's waking up, to drive you home, when you're drunk and all alone? who's gonna walk you through the dark side of the morning?

it ain’t me.

-- it ain’t me // kygo & selena gomez

SHIP: min yoongi (suga) x reader

GENRE: angst with a happy ending

WARNINGS: mentions of violence, language, medical procedures, mentions of alcohol, a slightly unhealthy relationship

word count: 6.8k

a/n: yo this has been sitting in my drafts since last july, and i’m home sick today so i thought why not FINALLY finish this??? i have the BIGGEST kink for blond yoongi, idk. i’m not so sure about the ending, i might go back and re-write this. also, please understand that i don’t condone toxic relationships similar to the dynamic that yoongi and the reader have in this story. if you’re in a relationship where you don’t feel safe, be it because of your partner’s behavior or the circumstances under which your relationship operates, PLEASE get help and try to leave (and jesus christ i KNOW this sounds really hypocritical because of the ending, pls don’t come for me). anyway, i hope you enjoy!! as for the trailer, try to imagine it kind of like the train car from the agust d mv. also pls help bc this gif is,,, killing me

masterlist

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

The noise against the door woke you up, and despite your limbs still feeling numb with sleep, they almost instantly seized up in fear of the unknown.

Two more bangs against the door, and you reached towards the other side of the bed and, barely even registering it was empty, you grabbed the baseball bat that was hidden between the bed and the nightstand.

Shakily standing up, you let your feet pad quietly across the trailer, turning on the light in the small space. You stepped towards the door, one hand reaching out for the doorknob, the other, gripping the bat, knuckles white and hands clammy with fear.

BANG.

This time, the noise caused you to jump back in fear, and you shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. What if it was a thief? A murderer? Why would anyone come banging on your trailer door at this time of night?  

You bit your lip, remembering there was no peephole to look through in the trailer. Here you were, holding a baseball bat while dressed in nothing but a white t-shirt and some underwear, so close to passing out in fear, but you had no way of knowing who or what was outside.

Trying to calm your shaking, you crept towards the counter, where the key sat. Grabbing the key quickly, before tiptoeing back to the door and shakily inserting it into the lock, another bang caused you to whimper softly in fear. You gripped the bat tighter, pursing your lips in another attempt to calm the hurricane of emotions stirring in your chest.

The door was swiftly unlocked, and before you could convince yourself otherwise, you bit the bullet and opened it, ready to swing the bat.

“Baby!” a familiar voice slurred out loudly, and your stiff body instantly began to relax, not registering the off tone of your boyfriend’s voice. Your pounding heart immediately began to slow down. You closed your eyes in relief, lowering the bat, and giving a soft exasperated sigh accompanied with a relieved smile.

So that was why Holly wasn’t barking, your mind realized, thinking back to the small dog who always slept outside of the trailer when it wasn’t cold.

“Goddammit, Min Yoongi, you almost gave me a heart atta—”

You voice trails off into the unknown as your eyes opened again, and you finally saw his face. Even though there was barely any light, the damage was there, and it hurt to even look at it. You felt your eyes widen as you assessed the damage in the dark, dim light of the trailer doorway.

The worst thing was that he was smiling like that. Like he was off his rocker insane. Yoongi only smiled like that in two different situations: either, he was having the time of his life, or he was completely smashed, and sometimes, sometimes even both.

One eye was swollen shut by what you could only assume was a series of punches, and with the other, you could see a black eye beginning to appear. His nosebleed had dried but it was still visible. there was a cut along his left cheek and his bottom lip was split straight down the middle.

Less than a second later he was pulling himself into the trailer, and you backed away to give him the necessary space as he shut the door, stumbling into your small, shared home.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmured again, and now that he was closer, you could smell the stench of soju and cigarettes that seemed to radiate off of him.

You didn't need to know anything else. He'd been out with “the guys” again. Walking towards the counter and setting the bat down there, you sighed, remembering how he'd walked out the door about an hour before you went to bed, and had claimed he was “going for a walk.” You didn’t need to ask why, you already knew it was a lie.

The fact that you knew and didn’t say anything was like the feeling you get after being sucker punched -- a brief moment of surprise and disbelief, did that really just happen? Before it starts to sink in. You knew, and you didn’t stop him, and now, here you were, your boyfriend’s face split like a porcelain doll -- right down to the pale skin and pretty eyes.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Your voice was quiet yet harsh as you asked him once you’d walked back in front of him, not wanting to deal with whatever excuses he had now, even though you needed to know why. He'd taken off his jacket, and you watched as you threw it on the couch. You couldn’t help but notice that he was swaying under the influence of the alcohol in his system.

You'd been dating Yoongi for four years, and living with him for three. You'd had only vague knowledge about what he did for a living before moving in, but had realized just how bad it was once you finally did.

First of all, he lived in a cramped trailer that you assumed was fine for just himself and the dog, but became too small with the two of you sharing the space.

During the honeymoon phase of when you'd first moved in, you'd thought it was endearing, the idea of the small space being shared between the man you loved and yourself. You would move the small dinner table to the side and fold the chairs, and stay up late slow dancing to soft rock music or quiet hip hop beats, just basking in each other’s presence.

Other nights were spent in bed, exploring each other’s bodies and mapping out your favorite places with your mouths, until one of the two writhed underneath the other and you called his name, grateful that a trailer meant no neighbors who could complain about the noise.

And then that phase ended some six months after you moved in, and suddenly the lack of space was suffocating, and you'd never realized how claustrophobic the trailer made you feel because you had been distracting yourself with the man who owned it, and ignoring both the small living space and his flaws.

Second of all, how almost every saturday night, he would go out with his supposed friends, and you would stay awake on the couch, waiting for him or falling asleep there, and waking up next to him in bed, only to find him asleep with a black eye or a broken lip, bruised knuckles and a hangover always present.

It was when you gave up on waiting up for him, and he stopped carrying you to bed when you did fall asleep on the couch, that the worst days of your relationship began, almost two years ago. All you would ever do was fight. But when he came home to you one night looking through your laptop for a new place to live, it all came to a standstill, and he seemed to realize how bad things were. It was as if he hadn't registered the screaming that upset the dog, the slamming doors or the throwing things when one of you exploded, having had enough. Never at each other, though. Never at each other.

Recently, in an attempt to make things better for the both of you, he was trying to get away from all of it. But to him, you assumed, it was like a drug, and he was hooked. But the idea of a drug always implied the possibility of an overdose, and that was what scared you the most.

Before he could answer, he was stumbling, and you had to grip him with all the strength your tired body could muster at the ungodly hour of four AM.

“I didn't realize how late it was, jagi,” He slurred, leaning on you. As you took a deep breath, trying to let go of some of your anger and to ignore the the smell of alcohol on his breath, you began to move him towards the sorry excuse for a dining table you owned, and managed to get him to sit down.

“Take off the shirt, Yoongi,” You muttered as you opened and closed the cabinets in a hasty search for the first aid kit you kept for occasions like this, even though he'd never come back this bad before.

You heard his suggestive chuckle from behind you back at the dining, and remembered just how horny he could get when he was drunk, and no matter how much you refused to do anything while one of you was sober and the other one wasn't, he would always ask for more kisses than necessary.

“I need to see if you're hurt anywhere else, Yoongi,” You remarked sharply as you pulled out the case and walked back towards him, setting it on the table just in time to watch his suggestive gummy grin fade. He didn’t answer.

Good thing too, you thought to yourself, if he said anything I’d probably have punched him as hard as whoever did this to him.

As you pulled off his shirt, and his pale chest was exposed, you felt your chest flood with relief as you found no cuts bad enough to need more than a few stitches.

“What happened to you, anyway?” You asked tiredly, but with some concern laced in your tone. Total ass or not, he was still your boyfriend.

“He was asking for it, saying I wasn't shit, stuff like that. But if you think I look bad, you should see the other guy,” he answered, and you grimaced, remembering the last time you’d seen your boyfriend in a fight with someone else.

It’d been a few months ago, when you’d decided to go dancing because you hadn't gone anywhere together in such a long time, and you decided that both of them needed to get out of the trailer. He'd gone to the bathroom, leaving you for no less than five minutes, and some guy decided it would be a great idea to ask if you wanted to find somewhere more private, and in what you deemed the most cliché experience with a man who couldn't take no for an answer, he decided to go off on you, calling you a slut and a bitch and every other degrading term underneath the big blue sky. But it was when he tried to hit you that things got bad.

Because that was when Yoongi came back, and to be welcomed by such a sight was… well, less than comforting to him.

In the end, you had to pull him off of the other man, begging him to stop. Everyone was watching the scene unfold, staring as you tried to pull your boyfriend off of what was left of the man, who was half dead from Yoongi’s punches, all because your boyfriend had decided to ‘defend your honor’, all while the heavy bass was still making the club vibrate.

After that, the both of you had been thrown out of the club into the cold, the bartender who’d been in charge at the time telling you both to scram.

Neither of you said anything on the way home, the car quiet except for the soft rumble of the motor as you drove, seeing as you were the designated driver. He was sitting shotgun, looking at his then bruised hands, deadly quiet. His display of violence had frightened you enough for him to notice, and so he decided to give you the space you needed.

You could still remember the look of panic in his eyes when you’d gotten home, when he'd tried to put his hand on your cheek but you flinched away. You’d never seen him look so scared, scared that he'd lose you.

That was the thing with your beloved Min Yoongi — he didn't notice how bad he messed up until a small detail put everything into perspective for him.

“Jagiya,” he'd rasped out in the darkness of the bedroom later on, “You know I would never hurt you. Ever.”

You nodded, then realized he probably wouldn't see it. “Yeah,” You whispered, before rolling over so your back faced him, “I know… goodnight, Yoongi.”

He murmured your name, calling for you quietly.

“Yes, Yoongi?”

“I love you.”

“...I-I love you too, Yoongi.”

You forced herself to focus on the task at hand, and pulled out the disinfectant spray from the kit, along with a small pair of surgical scissors, cotton balls, bandages, a needle and thread.

In two quick strides, you were in front of the refrigerator, and you were pulling out the ice cubes you'd been saving for when the air conditioner stopped working as it always did during the hottest days of the summer.

Grabbing a small dish rag, you pulled two ice cubes out of the casing and wrapped the rag around them, before striding back over to Yoongi, pushing a few platinum blond strands out of his face before pressing it to his swollen eye.

“Hold that there, baby,” You said softly, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on the rag, hearing him hiss softly as the cold made contact with his bruised skin. You let go of his hand, and he held it up as you hoped he would.

Not stopping to look at his face, knowing he was watching you work, you decided to get to work. the disinfectant was sprayed on a cotton ball, and dabbed across the cuts on his face and chest.

Moving onto his knuckles, your hands seemed to fly across his skin as you fixed up his hands for what seemed like the millionth time since you first started dating, and as you finished wrapping the gauze around his right hand, you looked up at him.

“Is that too tight?” Your voice was still raspy, you realized, probably as you were still exhausted from your restless sleep. He shook his head in response, flexing his aching fingers to make sure.

“No,” That was all he answered, and you nodded. As you looked across the cut on his cheek, you asked yourself whether it needed stitches or not. You paused, trying to remember if you’d ever gotten to learn about stitches on the face, specifically, or if it was the same as any other stitch on the body.

This was the worst Yoongi had ever been, and if you didn't know how to treat him with your limited knowledge of first aid, then…

“Yoongi, I don't know about this cut, maybe we should get it checked out—”

“No.”

You hesitated in continuing as you heard the firmness in his voice. You knew that Yoongi hated hospitals, for both personal reasons and fear of rival gangs finding his personal information, and along with that, you. If there was something he didn't want, it was you getting dragged into his business affairs.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, before speaking gently. “Yoongi, baby, I don't know if stitches on the face have a different procedure than—”

“Just do it like you normally would,” He seemed to growl, sounding annoyed, as if it were your fault that he was in this dilemma. This only made your anger grow.

“Fine,” you snapped under your breath, and you watched as he looked taken aback by your small outburst, “Put down the ice. I can't do this with your arm covering the way.”

He set it down on the table, and it took all of your strength to not slam your fists on the table out of frustration.

He promised he wouldn't go out with them anymore, that he'd try to leave it for you. For you, he’d said, for us, because I love you.

Blinking back tears of rage, your hands pulled the scissors, along with the needle and thread toward you.

“Does it feel less swollen?” You mumbled half-heartedly, not meeting his eyes as you began to prepare the thread and the needle.

“I guess,” he answered, his voice still slurring slightly, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Yoongi.” Your voice was cold and clipped, and you clenched your jaw in an attempt to calm yourself. “Just let me do what I have to do, okay?”

You brushed more hair out of his face, analyzing how many stitches he would need. You let your eyes rake across the pale skin that had been rudely interrupted by this ugly cut that you could only assume was from a knife. After a few seconds, you deemed the cut worthy of three stitches, threading the needle.

“Sit still,” You warned, and began to work.

As you let your hands do their meticulous job, moving as swiftly and calculated as they could this early, your mind wandered to the moment Yoongi seemed to realize he couldn't do this forever.

It had been almost four months ago, when the both of you had a pregnancy scare. You could remember the shame and fear blooming like a flower before immediately beginning to burn like a brazier out of control when you mumbled those three words to him.

Yoongi, I’m late.

During that next week, after several arguments that ended in you crying and him storming out, you decided to finally buy a pregnancy test and see the truth. At least if you were pregnant, you wouldn't have to live with the constant uneasiness of not knowing.

And to your relief, when you entered the bathroom to do it the test, you almost cried tears of relief when you found that you'd started that very day.

When Yoongi came home that night and you told him the news, after the initial relief that was celebrated between the two of you, after him picking you up and kissing you and holding you for what felt like an eternity, after the celebratory ordering of pizza, you both sat down and had a serious conversation until the sun came up the very next day.

As you cut the thread on the first stitch, you heard him grunt softly in discomfort as the tugging on his skin stop briefly as you began to prepare more thread.

You’d spoken about several things that night: Yoongi admitted that once he thought there would be a small child between the two of you, he'd realized how ready he was to live the rest of his life with you. That whenever he thought of having a baby grow up in this small trailer that the two of you were basically spilling out of, with a father involved in gang stuff, his skin would crawl and he'd begin to feel nauseous.

You agreed that if you did settle down, and eventually ended up having kids, it definitely wouldn't be under these circumstances. You wanted any possible children in the eventual picture to have better lives than both Yoongi and yourself were living in that moment.

And yes, you both knew you could never be the perfect nuclear family with the white picket fence, but it was better than being the washed up family where the father was involved with gangs and the mother who worked two jobs as a waitress.

No child of yours would ever go through that. Not now, not ever.

And so the both of you decided that you’d both try to move out of the trailer by the end of the year. The past months had been filled with searching for apartments within your budget and him trying to get himself a steady job, maybe even two. As of recently he’d been doing some mechanic work, and everything finally seemed like it would work out. You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

The second stitch was tied, and you grimaced as you rubbed at your eyes, which were beginning to strain from your concentration and the nagging desire to cry.

Here he sat now, so drunk he could barely stand on his own, as you patched him up like he was some quilt that you could simply stitch back together and you wouldn’t have to give a second thought to it once you finished.

This was your boyfriend, your Yoongi. He was a person, your person -- just as much as you were his, and despite his many flaws, you’d be willing to do anything for him, like an even more twisted version of the tale of Eros and Psyche, a greek myth you’d read long ago; Psyche, in hopes that she could be reunited with her one true love, had spent sleepless nights and gone through unspeakable dangers completing impossible tasks that could’ve killed her, all in the hopes that she’d get to be with her love again.

Deep down inside, you knew you were the same, no matter how angry you were with him right now, and maybe that was what scared you even a little more than the thought of Yoongi getting himself killed in some confrontation like in the movies, as if he were some kind of Al Capone, or Tony Montana.

The thought of losing him was terrifying. So much so, that whenever he was out you would lie in bed and ask yourself when it would happen. Because you knew that if he kept on doing this it was a matter of when, and not if.

You didn't want to be there when it did happen, eventually.

“Jagiya… Y/N.”

His voice snapped you back to reality, and you realized you'd finished the third and final stitch, but had been sitting there without cutting it as you sunk deeper into your thoughts.

“Are you… okay?” He asked once more, his voice quiet but his words slurred. And you nodded, face blank, because you didn't trust your voice enough to not sound like you were about to cry, out of anger, frustration, sadness.

Letting out a shaky breath, and cut the last stitch. You noticed him flinch slightly as his skin was released from the tug you had on it, and you turned his face to get a better look at your handiwork.

“It should be fine, assuming I did it right.” You sounded grim. “But, this could be a bit harder to keep from opening up… try not to move your face too much in the next week.”

“Does that mean no making out?” He asked quietly, tone still slurred and cocky, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Not the time, Yoongi.” Your tone was cold and you didn't look at him as you answered, focusing on putting away the tools you'd used.

“You're mad at me — don't be like that, baby girl…” He said softly, trying to put his hand on your cheek, and as you felt the bandages glide across your skin, you snapped.

In the height of your anger, you slapped his hand away, and the slightly hopeful look in his eyes seemed to fade.

“Don't touch me, Yoongi,” You snarled, not realizing how you'd raised your voice until you heard the silence that followed your outburst.

You lowered your head in slight embarrassment, shaking your head to avoid meeting his gaze. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, twice,” You told him, still not looking up, “The first time when you woke me up and the second time when I saw your face.”

You rubbed at the back of your neck, trying to undo how stiff it felt, before giving a tired sigh.

“One of these days, you're gonna come home, looking ten times worse than you do right now, and I… Yoongi, I-I’m not gonna be able to fix you up like I normally can. W-what's gonna happen if you break a rib, huh? Get stabbed?” You closed your eyes as you imagined the idea, before your trembling voice dropped to a whisper so quiet he had to strain his ears to listen.

“What's going to happen the day you get shot, Yoongi? What am I gonna do then?”

You stood, exhaling shakily as you come to press your palms against the small kitchen counter, facing away from him, your face burning in shame at your anger and how you sounded more like a worried housewife than you wanted to.

Because you didn't want him to feel like you were worried, even though you were. You wanted your words to sting more than a slap across the cheek could ever sting. You wanted them to cut deeper than the slash across his cheek. you wanted to bleed out your anger and have him choke on it, even if just for a little bit. You wanted him to know you were pissed, and that you had every right to be.

You wanted to exude rage, but here you stood, looking sadder than any Margaret Keane painting ever painted.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I’m angry and you're drunk. I can't… I can't do this to you right now.”

“Talk to me, baby,” He answered a few moments later, as he managed to stand, leaning on the dining table to get a better look at you, “Tell me what you feel, e-even if you think I won't like it.”

“I’ll yell at you when you're sober, Yoongi,” you insisted, scoffing at how cynical you sounded. Pursing your lips, you grabbed a glass from one of the cupboards and filling it with water from the pitcher inside of the refrigerator.

“Drink up,” You said as you placed it in front of him, “It'll help get the alcohol out of your system.”

He nodded, not saying anything else, before grabbing the glass and drinking it all in one go as you put back the pitcher.

“You want any more?” You asked, looking towards the door to the outside, considering your options, and you heard him utter a quick ‘no.’

“Well, let's go to bed, then… Do you think you can walk by yourself?”

He shrugged. “You're the one who doesn't want me to touch you,” He replied quietly, monotonously, tone sounding kind of cold; before letting his pair of wobbly legs and trying not to stumble towards the bedroom. You felt your chest pang with the slightest amount of regret at his response.

You watched him use the wall to hold himself up, before collapsing on the bed, kicking off his sneakers and not bothering to change.

You rubbed at your temples, closing your eyes and scrunching your eyebrows together in frustration. After a few moments, not wanting to waste anymore time, you hastily put away the first aid kit and set the empty glass in the sink.

You trudged towards the bedroom, turning off the main light, the lamp next to your side of the bed remaining the only source of light.

You sat down, not looking at him. Once again, you swallowed the lump in your throat, before letting one tear fall down your cheek, quickly wiping it away before he could see.

As you turned to face him, you opened your mouth to speak.

“Yoongi, I love—”

But he was already fast asleep, lying on his stomach, platinum blond hair framing his bruised face. his pale skin seemed tanner in the soft warm glow of the lamp’s light.

If his face weren't so swollen and bruised, he would've looked like an angel.

You shook your head in anger, turning off the light, ready to go back to sleep as the trailer was engulfed in darkness. Lying down, facing away from him, you found that sleep wouldn't come so easy—the absence of light left you isolated, accompanied by nothing but your thoughts.

What’s going to happen the day you get shot?

The question echoed in your head over and over again, and you began to blink back tears at the thought.

Whatever the answer to your question was, you knew that you didn’t want to know, because you didn’t want to be there when it happened. Because if you were there, you could lose him, and if you were there, with him, you didn’t want to find out just how willing you were to protect him.

You’d given Yoongi an ultimatum: you or his supposed friends.

You lied there for hours, asking yourself whether what happened tonight was Yoongi giving you the answer you were hoping he wouldn’t give.

Because honestly? You didn’t want him to die. You didn’t want to die, either. After everything you'd been through with him, weren't you allowed to be selfish?

The threat of rival gangs wanting retaliation was a rare, but not unheard of, thing in your relationship, but it had never gone further than a few broken windows while the both of you were out, and the one time Yoongi had woken you up and shoved you under the bed and pulled out a gun while he waited in front of the door, but no one was there. The both of you were too shaken up to sleep afterwards.

But that was the worst it had ever been. It had never gone anywhere further or been any worse; as far as the both of you knew, no one dangerous knew you existed in his life. Physically, you were safe. But your relationship was on a thin sheet of ice that went by the name “Yoongi's work”.

You felt as though you were being suffocated by what was going on, as if the smell of alcohol radiating off of him was a plastic bag that was wrapped around your head, Yoongi holding you down and forcing you to take it.

Were you really capable of holding your metaphorical breath that long?

Did you even want to?

If you stayed and Yoongi got hurt you would never forgive yourself. But if you left… you would never know what happened to him.

Somehow, the thought of not knowing whether he was dead or alive seemed comforting. Because if he was dead, you’d simply assume he was still breathing because, well, you didn't know, and had no way of finding out.

You stayed like that until the sun rose, sleepless, caught in a riptide of overthinking and anxiety.

Finally, when the alarm clock blinked 9:00 in the morning, and Yoongi was still sleeping off his drunken stupor, you felt a feeling settle in your chest, and you knew what you had to do.

By ten, you'd already packed a suitcase and changed, ready to leave. But as you stared at the door, a small inkling of doubt bloomed in your chest, and hesitantly, with trembling hands, you set the suitcase down.

In a few quick, quiet strides you were back in the too small bedroom, and your jaw clenched automatically as the desire to cry returned, stronger than ever.

Sitting on the bed, for what felt like the last time, you looked at the still sleeping figure curled up on the mattress.

Suddenly every kiss, every embrace, every laugh, every argument, every morning waking up next to each other, every sleepless night that was spent either yelling at each other or making love to each other began to come back.

Do you really want to give this up? A little voice murmured in the back of your mind as your eyes drifted to the small patch of sunlight streaming through the small window, shining down onto Yoongi’s bare, pale back, are you sure you'll ever find something this good again?

You looked down at him, still sleeping in the exact same position he'd fallen asleep in. The same position you'd seen him in a million times, except this time you were almost sure it was the last time.

I can certainly find something less toxic.

As if on autopilot, as you'd done a million times before, your hand came up to stroke his platinum blond locks. You smiled sadly to yourself, before leaning forward to leave a soft kiss on his forehead, careful not to move too much in an attempt not to wake him up. You didn't want to have that kind of confrontation.

“I love you,” you whispered, “But I can't live like this.”

Standing quickly, you walked to the door again, pulling it open as you picked up the suitcase, and stepped out as your heart seemed to sink into your stomach.

You closed the door as quietly as you could, because if you were too loud, one of two things would happen: either Yoongi would wake up, and you'd find yourself in the situation that you didn't want to be in, or he wouldn't, and the idea of that loud clang of metal seemed too solemn, too final for your aching heart, and you wouldn’t be able to handle it, and stay anyway.

The trailer had always been parked in an open field that was in front of a relatively calm road — a path had been made where you and Yoongi drove and parked his car. The idea of hitchhiking came to mind, as you didn't want to technically steal his car, but before you could decide anything else, a voice from behind made you stop dead in your tracks.

“y/n!”

You didn't turn around, your blood running cold in your veins, your heart beginning to beat as fast as you wanted to run away.

Instead, you waited until he was standing in front of you, still bruised; barefoot and shirtless, looking more heartbroken than anything. You gathered he must've woken up after everything after all, come outside, seen you and the suitcase and put two and two together.

Yoongi was a lot of things, but he definitely wasn't stupid. He didn't need to ask where you were going or what you were doing.

He grabbed your shoulders gently, and you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at his battered face. Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you wished you could dig into your chest with your bare hands and yank out the frustration lying inside.

“Don't do this, jagi…” His voice was quiet, softer than the desperate shout he'd let out moments earlier.

“Look at me, baby girl, please,” He murmured, wiping away tears you hadn't realized had fallen.

“No,” you whimpered, “No, Yoongi, don't do this to me, n-not now…”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you heard him let out a shaky breath, as he gripped your free hand in his and gently tried to pull you back. “C-come on, baby, l-let's go inside—”

“No.”

The contrast between your tone now and the tone you'd used moments before halted him in his tracks, and you felt his grip tighten slightly on hand. He looked down and realized that your hand wasn’t gripping his back.

“I don't…” You opened your eyes, but still a lingering stubbornness inside your chest couldn't get you to meet his eyes.

You sighed in frustration, setting down the suitcase to wipe away more tears that had fallen. “I don't… I can't live like this anymore! Yoongi, I-I can't do it, I don't wanna worry about whether you're gonna come back or not when you go out for a walk, or whatever it was you were doing last night, for fuck’s sake.”

One of his hands reached for your cheeks, and the stubbornness inside made your eyes screw shut once more.

“Jagiya…” He sighed, “...Y/n, please look at me. Listen to me, baby, I’m begging you. Give me five minutes, and…” You heard him groan softly as he tried to form a coherent sentence.

“C-come inside, talk with me for five minutes… I’ll explain everything, and if you still want to leave, I won't stop you.”

The idea was tempting. You wanted so desperately to believe that this could be fixed in some kind of confrontation, but that moment had come months ago; on the night you had realized you weren’t pregnant, and he was still involved in his shady business and you still felt suffocated by the confines of the trailer.

You should've just said no, pushed him off. Walked away and not looked back, ignoring his pleas for you to come back. But, as the last of your resolve softened and melted away, you met his eyes. The swelling had gone down enough for you to see both of them now, and caught how they were misty, as if he were also about to cry. The mid-morning sun shone against them, causing the dark flecks of gold in them to shine.

But did you say no? You didn't. You couldn’t. Not to, him, not to your precious Min Yoongi. It was impossible.

“...Fine,” You responded finally, softly, and you watched as Yoongi’s posture seemed to relaxed, and he flashed a small, hopeful smile, which would've looked so much nicer if his lip wasn't busted in half.

He led you back into the trailer, his grip on your hand tight, as if he were scared that you would break away from him at any given moment. He was right, in a way. Your senses were on alert, red lights beeping as you remembered every single warning you’d gotten against toxic relationships in your life.

Once you’d both entered the trailer, he shut the door and leaned against it, as if trying to stop you from leaving again. Your gut tightened with anxiety at the action, as the possibilities of his body language had you eyeing him nervously. What if you decided to leave and he didn’t want to let you?

“I’m leaving the gang.” Yoongi’s voice was quiet, his eyes gazing at yours. You sighed, shaking your head as you set your suitcase down. “Where have I heard that before?”

He shook his head. “Y/n, I’m serious this time. Let me explain--”

“Sure you are, Yoongi.”

“Y/n…”

“I’m sick of living like this, Yoongi! I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life in this shitty trailer. I feel like i’m suffocating in here.”

“What, you think I’m not?”

“You certainly don’t act like you care enough to do anything about it! You’re the one who went back to them, last night, Yoongi. Not me.”

He paused, blinking. His face scrunched into one of confusion, and you wanted to tell him not to do that out of fear that the stitch on his face would open up. “Wait. Did I tell you why I went out last night?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his deep voice, thinking back to the disastrous night before. “Uh… no. You didn’t.”

He stared at you for a second, before his eyebrows shot up in realization, gaze solemn. “You think I… Oh, jagi, no.”

“What are you talking about, Yoongi?”  

He shot forward, gripping your shoulders, pulling you closer, until you were pressed into his chest.

“I told them I wanted to leave last night.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding released itself, and you pushed him away slightly, enough to look him in the eyes, but not enough to have him release his grip on you.

“If you’re lying, I’ll cut your dick off, Min Yoongi.”

He smiled softly, his gaze still sad as a hand reaches for your face to brush a stray hair out of the way, before shaking his head. “It’s the truth, I swear. No need to cut anyone’s dick off.”

“Why… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just… I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if it would work, I didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case it didn’t.” He shook his head, lost in thought.

“You should’ve told me,” You murmured, the close proximity enough for him to hear your quiet voice, “All of this could’ve been avoided, Yoongi.”

You wondered to yourself why he didn’t tell you once he came home, before telling yourself he was too drunk to even stand and speak properly, much less explain what he’d done. Combining that with Yoongi’s temper and your outburst, it was easy to figure out that he’d gotten upset at your reaction.

Your hand reached for his face, your thumb brushing over the skin of his cut. “Who did this to you, then?” Your voice was curious, slightly angry at the thought of one of the members of the gang getting violent at whatever he told them.

He sighed, licking his chapped lips nervously. “Namjoon. He was pissed.”  The hand on your back let go as he used it to gesture to the cut on his face, “Told me that if I wanted to leave so bad, I could have this as a parting gift.”

You grimaced at the idea, your imagination going into overdrive to build up a mental image of what he’d just said. “Pissed is an understatement,” You replied, imagining how it must’ve hurt. He scoffed.

“You’re telling me.”

“So you’re done? You’re gone?” The uncertainty in your voice is enough for him to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s done,” He said, “I’m gone. For you, for us.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, half in relief, half in comfort as he leans to rest his forehead against yours as your mind registered the same four words he’d spoken when he first promised you this.

And as you stand there, in his arms, the reality began to sink in: this was happening.

You might just make it out alive, after all.

[edsrich]

Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 2/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Depression, angst and fluff throughout the whole series, suicide attempt

A/N: Im so happy at how much support part 1 got?? Thankyou all so so so fucking much ily all also!! credit to @finn-got-tall for an idea in one of the scenes!! (I wont reveal which scene bc i want people to just read) but ty lovely

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 

Eddie and Richie blinked at each other, stunned to see one another in such a strange coincidence. Eddie still had his hand up, but Richie still hadn’t took it. Richie merely brought his hand up that held the cigarette, taking a drag and allowing the toxic waste to decay against his lungs. Eddie visibly cringed at the sight, but stayed silent; he only continued to watch in hope that Richie would somehow step down. Richie took away the small stick, blowing the smoke out slowly and staring at Eddie through his large obnoxious eye glasses.

“Why are you here, Eds?” Richie asked, as if a day hadn’t passed since they last talked.

Which was funny, considering they had barely shared a word in two and a half years. They were both 17 now, not two 14 year old boys with hormonal issues and experiencing puberty. No, they were grown but not quite men yet.

“Why are you hanging off the side of the school ledge? C’mon, get down-”

Richie flicked the cigarette over the edge, watching it fall over his shoulder and getting lost in the distance to the ground.

“Why should I?” Richie tilted his head, his curls dangling to one side more than the other. “Your life wouldn’t change if I jumped, in fact- you were coming up here to jump yourself. Weren’t you, Eds? So who are you to say to someone that they should get down?”

Eddie felt speechless, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck as he realised that what Richie was right, who was he to tell Richie to not end his life?

“I’m Eddie fucking Kaspbrak and I’m telling you to not jump, asshole. We might not be friends anymore but I really don’t want you to die. Please Richie, just step down.”

Richie whistled in taunting amusement, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you begging me right now, Eds?”

Eddie felt anger surge in his core, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Of course i’m begging! A guy I know-”

“You don’t know me.” Richie cut Eddie off with a monotone voice.

“I used to know,” Eddie corrected before continuing, “is stood before me and could jump at any second. I don’t want that happen and neither does anyone else!”

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, “like who?”

“Like- fuck, Bev! She’s your friend, right? You can’t just leave her.” Eddie squeaked, taking a subtle step forward.

“She has Bill, she’ll probably replace me as her smoking bud.” Richie shrugged as if it meant nothing to him, but secretly him being replaced could possibly be one of the worst pains that Richie has ever experienced. “Just like you did and everyone else did out of the losers club, isn’t that right Eddie?”

Eddie flinched, knowing all too well that his comment hit home to both of them. “I didn’t mean to cut you off, Richie.” Eddie whispered softly, looking to Richie’s eyes. “I can’t speak for the other guys, but I had a lot going on-”

“And you don’t think I did?!” Richie exclaimed, balling a fist, “Even you knew what my life was like Eddie, you knew how shitty it was for me and it’s only gotten worse.”

Eddie already could tell that he was talking about his neglectful parents, Eddie was the first to know about his situation and comforted him for days on end with Richie in his arms. 

“Richie, look I’m an asshole okay? I get it, I left you when you needed me. But please, I can help you. Step down.” Eddie cried again, stepping forward and holding his hand up helplessly for Richie to grab.

Richie fell silent, staring at Eddie’s shaking hand before glancing at his features. He was still the same Eddie, still having a baby face traced on his doll like skin, still having those brown bambi eyes of wonder and his hear was still neat in the same style.

He really was just Eddie Kaspbrak, he hadn’t let the world break him down into shreds whereas Richie had.

“Please, Richie.” Eddie pleaded, reaching his hand higher.

Richie shook his head, feeling a sigh break out into the cold air. “Sorry, Eds.” He finalised on his last words before taking a step back.

Eddie’s eyes widened, a shrilled yell piercing through the afternoon breeze, quickly reaching out with his inhaler dropping to the ground. Eddie grabbed at Richie’s shirt, feeling all of his strength pull back Richie as quick as he could before he fell back which would result in his death.

Richie felt nothing beneath his feet, but a second later felt the whole world against them once again.

Eddie pulled him forward, feeling the weight of Richie fall on top of his smaller 5′4 frame. Both collided against the school roofs concrete, on top of one another with a little grunt leaving their lips.

After a moment of silence, Richie finally erupted.

“Eddie what the fuck?!” Richie had tears in his eyes, threatening to spill but he would never let someone else see him cry.

Especially not Edward Kaspbrak.

Eddie felt emotions that he had never felt so harshly before tug at his heart strings and pulse at his templates, he had his arms wrapped around Richie tightly in order for him to keep him away from the ledge.

Richie felt entangled with the boy below him, closing his eyes to fight the urge to cry in a mixture of anger and sadness. His heart sped up rapidly, feeling Eddie hold tighter against the clothes on his back with his legs wrapped around the back of his thighs.

“I-I’m not letting go until you promise.”

Richie winced, he didn’t want to promise anything because breaking them was the worst part.

“Promise me you won’t kill yourself!” Eddie croaked in his ear, gripping tighter and forcing his words upon Richie.

He didn’t want to promise, but he didn’t want to let down another person in his life. Richie remained silent for what seemed like hours, but those hours were only seconds in reality.

“I promise, Eds.” 

Eddie heard his promise loudly and clearly, but he still held tight- not to keep Richie from moving, but to help him know that even though those two and a half years were empty of each other for either one of them, Eddie was still there for him.

Half an hour had passed since the incident, with both boys sat side by side on the roof top against the small bricks of the fire escape. Silence remained the two, but the company of one another was all the comfort they both desired.

Richie couldn’t help but glance at Eddie every so often and ponder about the boys situation since they had last talked. He of course came up to the rooftop to kill himself also, this was common sense. Richie came up here to smoke with Bev almost every day and not one student would wonder upstairs for anything, so if Eddie Kaspbrak just so happened to come up to the roof top, it certainly wasn’t for a smoke.

His eyes were soft and staring at the clouds above, oh how those eyes said a story that Richie felt his heart ache for. Richie knew what happened around the school, how he was severely bullied for simply coming out to his friends and family. 

Richie wasn’t one of those people he came out too. 

Richie had to hear it from the gossip, just like most. Somehow the word got out about Eddie being gay, which lead to the bullying getting worse and worse as time ached on. Somehow Eddie remained confident on the outside, from what it seemed and pulled himself up each time he was thrown down. But after todays incident, it seemed as if it was all getting too much for Eddie.

Richie frowned, letting all of the thoughts roam his mind in realisation that this boy could possibly be just as bruised as he was.

Eddie glanced down at the pack of half empty cigarettes that were between both himself and Richie and his own inhaler. There was an actual contrast between the two objects just as there was between him and Richie as people.

Him and Richie were two completely different people and Eddie couldn’t ever see them being friends with their different habits. For example, Eddie loved everything to be clean of germs and to stay away from illness or diseases whilst Richie was practically smoking himself to death in order to get one.

Eddie laid his fingers upon the trim of the box of cigarettes and he began to carve his finger on the edge, feeling the ragged structure. Richie raised an eyebrow, saying nothing and just watching the small acts.

Eddie then took out a single cigarette, wincing at how it felt on his fingertips and how many illness’ the single stick held inside of it.

“Why do you smoke?” Eddie asked softly, lifting the cigarette up into the air.

Richie shrugged, re-enacting what he had said to Bev a few days ago, “I like smoking.”

“But why?” Eddie sighed, “Your lungs decay, you cripple and cough whilst cancer creeps up on your shoulder. It’s repulsive.”

“Like I said, I just like it. I don’t smoke to look ‘cool’ Eds.” Richie now stared at Eddie’s side profile.

Eddie stares at the rips in Richie’s jeans, frowning, “It’s a slow death.”

“Maybe thats what I want.”

Eddie sighed, putting the cigarette back in the box and grabbing some hand sanitiser from his pocket and squirting a dollop onto the palm of his hand where the same scar remained from the blood oath. Richie analysed it with soft eyes, his head tilting before lifting up his own hand and tracing the scar from the oath with his free hand. He remembered how he held Eddie’s hand in the cast, his blood on Eddie’s skin and connecting the two as one. The oath was to signal that one day they’d all come back together as one.

Maybe this was their early and personal reunion.

Eddie was too busy scrubbing in the hand sanitiser into his skin to notice Richie’s soft smile on his lips at the thought of him and Eddie talking again.

Everything was fuzzy about their childhood in the big group that they had, but if one thing was clear to Richie, it was the blood oath. Everything about that memory was so vivid to Richie and easy to remember, whilst the memories with himself and Eddie having sleepovers and crashing the arcade were hazed like a dream. At some point he even remembered a clown coming into play, but that was nothing more than a nightmare.

“I think your hands will be raw if you keep scratching the germ repellent into your skin.” Richie remarked, smirking a bit.

“At least I’ll be clean.” Eddie sighed, before finishing his work and patting his bare knees. 

Richie placed a sturdy hand on Eddie’s shoulder, causing him to flinch but settle quickly and looking at Richie in confusion. Richie simply pushed himself up, holding his hand out to Eddie instead- unlike the circumstance before where Eddie was holding his out to Richie. 

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

Eddie lifted his scarred palm out, with Richie’s own scarred palm grabbing his and pulling him to his feet.

Even after all these years, Richie still remembered where Edward Kaspbrak lived. He still lived in that small button house that had a cozy atmosphere to it. He even remembered the exact route he’d take when he used to ride to Eddie’s house every night for a sleepover. He remembered the damn smell of Eddie’s house, he remembered it all. 

The two walked close, every now and then their fingers would graze at the other persons skin but that was the only contact that they had.

Eddie watched as the sun started to set over the several houses that were next to them, being only 5PM and in a gloomy November setting- it was bound to be that the nights were starting earlier. The streetlights began to flicker on one by one and the cold air started to spike at Eddie’s bare legs.

“Why the fuck are you wearing shorts in November?” Richie chuckled, looking down at Eddie’s quivering legs.

Eddie huffed slightly, “Because I hate wearing jeans or anything else.”

Richie cooed, leaning forward and pinching the boys cheek. “That’s cute, Eds. But you might wanna wrap up for winter, it’s gonna get cold.”

Eddie felt his face heat up, adding to his already flushed cheeks from the cold air. “Its not cute and don’t call me Eds- I hate it, asshole.”

However, Richie knew that Eddie didn’t hate that at all as this was the first time he chose to deny it out of all the times in the past few hours. Richie confidently wrapped an arm around Eddie, pulling him closer to his side to keep him warm.

“I’ll keep ya’ warm, Eds.” 

Eddie blushed, looking up at Eddie before down at his feet. It was if the days without Richie had never passed- he was still the same with him despite how Eddie cut him off along with the other losers. Eddie felt a true attachment to Richie click inside of him again as he didn’t protest against his actions.

“You may as well if you’re gonna be having your arm over me.” Eddie whispered, leaning into the taller boy with a little bit of courage.

Richie grinned down at him, holding his shoulder as they walked the same route the way their bikes used to go. But it wasn’t long until Richie’s smile was wiped away by the droplets of heavy rain that fell onto them and the concrete. Eddie gasped, feeling the cool air now become freezing and quickly splatter onto his bare legs. 

Richie noticed Eddie’s attire again, seeing as he was wearing knee high socks, shorts and a sweater. Not that good for this type of weather. Richie quickly stopped in his tracks, taking off his grey hoodie with the Guns’N’Roses sign imprinted onto the fabric and holding it out to Eddie.

Eddie’s eyes widened, his arms wrapped around himself and his hair starting to soak up.

“Richie- no, It’s fine. You’ll be-”

“I’ll be freezing, I could get sick, blah blah. I don’t care, you don’t want to get sick and you don’t want to be cold so just take it.” Richie then forced it into the boys hands.

Eddie nodded, quickly sliding on the oversized hoodie over his smaller frame. The sleeves hung past his fingertips and the trim went past his hips and down to his thighs. The smell of cigarettes and cheap aftershave filling his senses and making his pupils become blown out. Richie smiled as he wore a plain white tee and his black ripped jeans and some cheap sneakers. Richie quickly lifted the grey hood over Eddie’s head, it hanging down to his eyebrows and covering him from the rain entirely.

“There we go, you’re all cosy.” Richie smiled, feeling his curls become more and more tight on top of his head due to the wetness.

Eddie felt himself blush and felt his own heat radiate himself, he couldn’t help but roll one sleeve up and reach his pale hand out to Richie’s.

Richie glanced down at the hand with a raised eyebrow, but took it in his scarred palm and held it close to him as he guided Eddie along to his house.

The streetlights lit their way up the path as their feet splashed in new forming puddles and soaking the insides of their shoes. As they arrived outside of Eddie’s small home. They both stopped, staring at each other for a moment and looking into each others eyes.

“Well, today was interesting.”  Richie breathed out, feeling his goosebumps grow more along the skin of his arms.

Eddie nodded, his eyes drifting elsewhere. “Please- please don’t tell anyone about why I was up there.”

Richie smiled sadly, “I wasn’t counting on it anyway bud.”

Eddie nodded again, fidgeting with the sleeve of the hoodie before curling his fingers under the trim- ready to take it off.

“No, no. You can.. you can keep it Eds.” Richie started, “It looks better on you than it does on me.”

Eddie smiled, his perfect white pearls showing between his lips as the apples of his cheeks tinted pink. “Oh really now?”

“Really.” Richie chuckled, shivering visibly but ignoring it.

“I might just keep it then.” Eddie whispered, removing his fingers and wrapping his arms around himself. “Thankyou, Richie.”

“What did I do?”

“You kinda saved me today, if you weren’t there...”

“Eds, if you weren’t there I would’ve jumped.” Richie started, stopping for a moment before whispering with a sad smile yet again, “We saved each other. Simple as that.”

“We did, huh?” Eddie looked at his white sneakers and smiled at the realisation, “Yeah, we really did.”

The two boys stood in silence for a moment or so, with Richie analysing the boy again. He loved how he looked in his clothes, it seemed so natural on him.

“Well, looks like that was meant to be then.” Eddie spoke up again, now looking up and adjusting his hood so he could see Richie better.

“Maybe you’re my guardian angel, Eds.” Richie cooed once again with a lop sided smirk and his eyes lazy, “Or maybe I’m yours.”

Eddie blushed, giving Richie the middle finger. “Shut up, that stuff doesn’t exist dumbass.”

“Well we’ll have to make it exist then, wont we?” Richie asked rhetorically.

Eddie laughed and took a step back away from Richie’s close form. “I’ll see you around then, Richie?”

“Yes you will Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie frowned quickly, “I hate that, don’t call me that.”

“I guess I’ll call you Eds instead!” Richie smirked.

“No-”

Richie blurred out his protest, gazing down at the boy with admiration. “Just get inside before you get sick, Eds. Say hi to Mrs.K for me, I haven’t stayed the night with her in a while.” Richie teased softly.

“Gross.” Eddie muttered, but smiled. “See you around.”

“Yeah, see you around.”

With that, Eddie turned on his heels and rushed to his door- fumbling with some keys that he found under the plant pot next to the front door and quickly unlocked the door, opening it and running inside.

Richie stayed for a moment or two with narrow eyes, watching how the door closed. He then relaxed when he saw a minute or so later that Eddie’s room light was shown through his window. A sigh of relief left Richie’s lips as he turned to continue walking down the path with rain soaking his form.

As he was walking, his hand jittered towards his hoodie pocket- only to remember that he gave his hoodie to Eddie. He chuckled, realising that he had left his cigarettes and lighter in there before walking on.

He couldn’t care less about his cigarette’s for once, in fact- the chainsmoker only cared about his old friend and how he was now back in his life once again to make his world turn from grey to colours.

Eddie had finished changing into his Star Wars pyjamas, now folding up the clothes that he had wore on the previous day to send into the hamper to be washed. 

He hummed, folding up the damp grey hoodie with a soft smile on his face. His eyebrows quickly narrowed in a thin line when a box dropped out of one of the pockets and onto Eddie’s wooden floor. Eddie held the folded hoodie in one hand before leaning down and picking up the box that had dropped. He then turned it over only to reveal Richie’s pack of cigarettes.

Eddie sighed sadly, dropping the hoodie back onto his bed and he proceeded to clutch the pack with both hands.

He wanted to mend Richie Tozier.

Eddie then walked out of his room and into the bathroom, staring at the pack that had warnings of ‘lung cancer’ spread all over it. He couldn’t help but worry for Richie’s health and mental health too. He sighed shakily, before focusing on the toilet.

He knew that he should probably give the pack back to Richie, but Eddie knew that he could never bring himself to give him the cancer sticks willingly. He only had one true option at this point.

He stood over the toilet, before dropping the pack of cigarettes into the water. Eddie watched the cigarettes float out of the box and on top of the water. Eddie then reached for the flush valve and pushed down on it. It was then revealed that the water started to drown the sticks, flushing them down into the sewers and away from harming a human.

It might only start off as baby steps, but he was going to mend Richie. One step at a time.

tag list: @beepibeeprichie @netzoflix @eds2fannypacks @rissyq @80srichie @reddieforanything @dauntless-demigod23 @volumevibe @eggboyben @rapturescouture @destructivelemonade @garlicbreadisnice @justauthoring @patrickstumphf @rheddie @romaniangirltfm @caterpillars-of-the-commonwealth @richie-n-eddie @richiecore @eddiekaspbraklovesboys @bitch-its-youknowwho @guccichai @lovestoomanyfandoms @beepbeepriichie @nerdyroses  @multishippinghoe @eddiessecondfannypack @polaroidreddie @rich-ditch14  @transrichietozier @serendipity-y @trcshmouthed @crazyfanperson @richiegayzier @kinda-eddie-kaspbrak @blue--winter @richietoziersglasses

(THOSE BOLDED I COULD NOT TAG)

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, let me know!!

[d3ndroica]

Big Apple 8

Part 1     Part 2      Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6      Part 7

Friday morning, Madge headed to work with an extra spring in her step. Maybe because it was Friday and there was an afternoon holiday party at work. Or maybe because she had weekend plans with Gale. There was a constant fluttering in the pit of her stomach, half anticipation and half anxiety. In the morning she threw herself into the minutiae of lab work. She had a quick meeting over lunch confirming the expected schedule for the holidays - Madge had a few days off including Christmas. The lab’s holiday party was a casual thing starting at 2pm. Madge had finished most of her lab work in the morning, and as she checked email her mind wandered. Saturday dinner with Gale loomed in her mind. A Date! Okay, maybe a date. They hadn’t really specified, but Madge was feeling optimistic.

To help distract herself from the inevitable overthinking, Madge texted with Thom. He had been super grumpy since his show ended and she figured she could kill two birds with one stone, cheering him up and distracting herself. She convinced him she would come to his place for dinner and a movie or something. He only agreed because it was “totally gross” out and he had practically no disposable income, but at least he agreed.

The holiday party was, well, a bit awkward. Even though she’d done a few happy hours, having the bosses and other people she didn’t know put a damper on the party spirit. But there was wine and free food and a group gift exchange in which Madge scored a new travel mug and coffee shop gift card, so it wasn’t all bad.

She showed up at Thom’s after work with frozen pizza and ice cream. As usual, Thom proved to be an excellent distraction from whatever was on her mind. They watched a stupid comedy and made snarky comments through the whole thing. When the movie was over Thom switched over to Real Housewives and before Madge realized how late it was, she was half asleep on the couch, so she just stayed the night. Saturday was cold but clear. Madge was bundled up on the subway, reading a book on her way home when she got Gale’s message. She had to fish for the phone from her coat pocket and take off her gloves to unlock it. Gale 10:51am can’t make it tonight something came up sorry :(

Madge 10:54am OK. Everything OK?

Gale 10:55am Yeah OK. rain check?

Madge 10:57am Yeah np

Except, of course, it was a problem. Why, she wondered. He hadn’t explained, and she hadn’t asked, but it felt like rejection. Something came up, which could mean anything at all, or nothing. The idea of a rain check was little consolation.

Madge tried to make new plans. Well, she texted Rue about doing something, but Rue had a performance. She’d be free on Monday, so Madge agreed to meet up then. Madge also emailed Delly a sad diatribe about men being stupid, but mostly she felt like the stupid one. Ugh. So she wound up spending Saturday night doing laundry, watching Sex and the City streaming online, and getting drunk on cheap wine. She glared at her phone but did not text him. She’d decided that since he had canceled the plans she’d initiated, it was up to him to re-engage. Sunday she finished her holiday shopping. Delly called to commiserate about their lack of dating lives. That evening, Madge called her dad, catching him up on work and the city - everything except Gale. She didn’t talk about her dating life with family if she could avoid it. Her dad spent about 20 minutes describing the latest episode of Midsomer Murders he’d seen, practically scene by scene, except he kept mixing up which characters were which, so Madge was left with a  bizarre muddle of people who may have been blackmailing and/or sleeping with each other.

Monday rolled around all too quickly. Madge felt forlorn, a cold dreary Monday and still nothing from Gale. She had a busy day scheduled in the lab, prepping her new cell cultures. She was determined to be sure everything was pristine this time around. As she was breaking for lunch, she ran into another lab tech, Vinayak, whom she’d chatted with at the holiday party. He was watching some viral video a student had made for their biology class about cell reproduction processes - Madge had to appreciate it, it mentioned apoptosis! She got sucked into a short conversation with him and some other coworkers about it and other biomed social media. When she finally got back to her desk she checked her phone and found a series of messages waiting. Rue had messaged with a suggestion for a dive bar to meet at before the movie. And Gale had texted. Finally. Gale 11:23am hey

Gale 11:29am you free tonight?

Madge 12:41pm Sorry :( have plans Been stuck in the lab Maybe tomorrow?

Madge sighed. The more she thought about it, she realized she was angry at him. Did he think Monday night plans were just as good as Saturday? And why was it always the same day, couldn’t he make plans a few days out, give her some warning? She hadn’t really thought about it before but now it occurred to her that he had only ever made plans on the same day with her - never in advance. She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to tell her something about him - or about her. And he was mostly MIA on weekends which seemed, if anything, not promising. The whole things left her feeling grumpy. She was happy that she had enough of a life to not be at his beck and call (not a fair accounting but whatever, she still considered herself new to the city and for once she had plans so she could at least feel good about that). She was also annoyed that she wouldn’t see him.

Still, she was determined to have fun tonight, meeting up with Rue to see the latest Wonder Woman movie. Returning to the lab after lunch, Madge struggled to get through all the steps of the day’s protocol. After a hectic afternoon, Madge managed to be only a little late meeting Rue at a dive bar, just in time to take advantage of the cheap (and weak) happy hour specials before the movie. Madge barely even had time to look at her phone. They talked about the holidays - Rue’s shows were scheduled throughout so she would be in town working through all the holidays. She asked about Madge’s work. Madge started explaining her day, but gave up when she saw Rue’s blank look. They moved onto other topics before walking to the theater. The movie was entertaining, and they made vague promises of getting together again soon before each heading home.

Gale 1:03pm tomorrow should be ok I have a meeting til 5 then free

Madge 6:20pm Sounds good. I should be able to get off early tomorrow

Gale 6:41pm U up for morningside? Could eat nearby?

Madge 10:34pm ok Any ideas? Or just meet at subway stn?

Gale 10:39pm sure just meet 116th st subway @ 6?

Madge 10:50pm Soudns good ….so I just did the thing where I turned on the computer and started scanning the exact same feeds I’ve been looking at on my phone 😩😫

Gale 10:52pm 😆 home now?

Madge 10:54pm 👣🍿🎵

Gale 10:59pm long day?

Madge 11:04pm soo long It was hard But good, you know?

Gale  11:06pm you know i said day not date right? you didn’t send a going home with someone emoji

Madge smirked at her phone.

Madge 11:07pm You think if I were with long hard & good I would be on my phone?

Gale 11:08pm well good isn’t mindblowing so it depends if you want 🍆 or 💏

Madge 11:09pm It can’t be both? (Unless you’re accusing me of ethnic cleansing bc those people are weirdly yellow)

Gale 11:09pm  ok you’re alone so want to explain what was long, hard, and good for you today? inquiring minds want to know 😉

Madge 11:10pm Just another busy day curing cancer ;-)

Gale 11:11pm I heard it’s more complicated than that

Madge 11:12pm Well that’s what makes it so hard

Gale 11:14pm lol, guess i have to give you that one sounds stimulating 😎

Madge 11:16pm So - how was your day?

Gale 11:17pm well not as long or hard as yours 😉

Madge 11:18pm Well It’s not about the length of your day but what you do with it ;-) 

Gale 11:20pm 🙊 I’ll try to remember that looking forward to 2moro

Madge 11:21pm Me 2 :)

Gale 11:22pm 👍

Madge hesitated, typed, it’s a date, and told herself to press send. She wavered. She wanted him to say it was a date. Why couldn’t he say that? She knew he could see that she’d been typing. She deleted the words she’d written.

Madge 11:25pm my long day is catching up with me  See you tomorrow

Gale 11:26pm goodnight Madge set down her phone and thought about what she would wear the next day. She took a shower, washed and dried her hair. She pulled on comfy flannel pajamas and laid down for bed. And laid there. Awake.

Madge 12:13am Hi

Thom 12:15am Yo

Madge 12:16am Seeing GH tomorrow

Thom 12:17am 👍🔥  r u 2 DTF

Madge 12:18am NO We’re not even dating

Thom 12:19am nedn fuck him then u’ll know

Madge 12:21am Can you be serious for one minute? We’re supposed to go to morningside park Is that a terrible idea?

Thom 12:22am u rly worried?

Madge 12:23am I barely know him and we’re going for a nighttime stroll in a strange park. If this were a horror movie I’d be saying how dumb I was

Thom 12:24am STOP UR NOT IN A MOVIE anw he’s mr consent 100% ggg

Madge laughed out loud at that - mostly at herself. She didn’t even know where that had come from but Thom as usual managed to calm her while bordering on TMI.

Madge 12:25am lol Sorry

Thom 12:26am npgf now go 2 bed b ;)

Tuesday morning she opted for a shorter workout than usual, allowing some extra time to prepare for that night. She could not even pretend she thought this was going to be casual. She was still a little annoyed at him, but having a little advance warning was better than none. She could at least pick out her outfit knowing she’d see him.

She wondered what would happen. She knew she could be in for a big disappointment, but she couldn’t help hope. As distracted as she was, work was helpful for keeping her occupied. She was still determined to get the labwork right. She managed to push most of the thoughts of Gale to the side as she peered into her microscope to observe her lab cultures.

They sent a few texts midday, not much more than confirming the night’s plans. Before she knew where the time had gone, it was 6pm and she was packed with a thousand other strangers on the train, protecting her small allotment of breathing room from the other jostling passengers, speeding towards … something. She came through the turnstiles and he was there. Leaning on the wall, head bent down toward his phone, his eyes were skimming the turnstiles. For her. Her heart beat a little faster. How long had it been? He looked good. He was clean shaven; he wore a beanie with a Knicks logo pulled down low over his head.

Was this happening? She ran her fingers through her hair and walked over. Gale smiled when he saw her and tucked his phone into a pocket. His “hi” was warm. Madge’s mind chased the question whether it was a friendly warm or something more. If she had been hoping for time to stop, it didn’t - their eyes met for a moment and then suddenly he was adjusting his scarf and leading her toward the subway exit far too quickly.

She had done a cursory web search to see what food was nearby. Maybe Gale had too, or maybe he just knew the neighborhood. As they left the station he said, “Well, there’s seafood, a beer garden, or middle eastern right on the corner. There’s other stuff nearby. What are you in the mood for?”

“How about middle eastern?” she suggested. “I haven’t had a good falafel in ages.” Madge had already checked out their website.

“Falafel?” From his dubious tone, she guessed it wasn’t what he’d expected her to choose. 

“Is that okay?” She quirked up an eyebrow and looked at him. She had assumed he would be okay with his own list.

“Sure,” he agreed, seeming amused.

They quickly spotted the middle eastern cafe across the street, with a cute storefront. Gale took that extra stride as they approached the door and held it open for her. As he stepped through after her, Madge rubbed her hands in the warmth of the cafe.

They were led to a small table along the wall, and quickly shed their coats and scarves. They sat, Madge facing the inner restaurant and Gale facing the window, coats draped over chairs. Sitting across from each other, Gale asked Madge about her day. Whether real or imagined, the gleam in his eye led her thoughts directly to the long and hard convo … Shit, was he trying to be dirty or was it just her? It was going to be harder to keep her head clear with him right here in front of her. Madge saw the waiter coming to fill their water glasses and opened her menu as if to remind herself where they were. She was sure her cheeks flushed as she rambled something about her workday. When she asked about his day, Gale talked briefly about work, about working through bugs in their code, and a customer who kept changing their priorities.  

The menu choices looked pretty standard by Madge’s experience. They decided to share the appetizer sampler which included hummus, baba ghanoush, grape leaves and the like. Madge added falafel; Gale picked chicken shawarma. It wasn’t long before they’d put in their order with the young waiter.

Soon after the drinks arrived Gale asked, “So when are you going home for Christmas?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” she said. “Not til next week, my flight is Tuesday. I hope the weather doesn’t mess up my flights or anything. I’m just going for a few days - visit my dad and see a few friends. You?”

Gale shook his head. “Still need to get tickets. I’m going, I just don’t know the details yet.”

“Really? Isn’t it kind of late for that?”

“Well, I’m just catching a train. I’ll figure it out this week.”

Madge shook her head, amazed at how cavalier he was about leaving Christmas travel details to the last minute. “What about work?” she asked. As odd as it seemed, he had to know what he was doing; unlike her, he had done this before. He had lived here a lot longer than her.

“I took some time off,” he shrugged. “And i can work remotely if i need to.”

“Must be nice,” she answered.

Talking about Christmas plans led to talking about family. Gale talked about his more than she expected - two college aged brothers she had trouble keeping straight, and a twelve year old sister. He seemed extremely protective and fond of them. The waiter came and went, bringing appetizers and main courses. Gale asked about her family and hometown, things she usually didn’t talk much about.

She told him about her dad’s obsession with British crime dramas. ”We always watch a few when I’m home, except half the time he falls asleep in the middle, so I don’t know what the point is,” she laughed.

One side of Gale’s mouth twisted up in a half smile and their gazes held. “What do you do if he falls asleep?” He popped the last stuffed grape leaf into his mouth.

Madge shrugged. “I still watch it. I mean, by then I’m usually hooked anyway.”

“Are you sure he’s the one who’s obsessed?” he asked with a smirk.

They dawdled over the last crumbs on their plates until Madge asked the passing waiter for the bill. Turning back to Gale she asked, “So how far is Morningside from here?”

“A couple blocks. But we don’t have to go tonight,” Gale hedged.

“No I want to,” Madge countered. “I mean, that was the plan right? And a walk would be nice.”

“Okay, then,” Gale agreed, but he didn’t seem as enthusiastic as Madge had expected. A little doubt worried her thoughts.

After Madge paid the bill, they pulled their coats on and headed for the street. “Thanks for dinner,” Gale said.

“Well I did owe you,” she answered. “But you’re welcome.”

Outside the sky was that strange shade of purple caused by orange city lights reflecting off the dark clouds overhead. The streetlights lit their way down 116th street to the park. Madge shivered against the cold and pulled her gloves on as they walked.

“We could do the park another time,” Gale offered. “If it’s too cold.”

“Shut up,” Madge said, eyeing the darkness ahead of them. “I’ll be fine once we’re walking.”

Other than her toes, because her boots that could both look good and can handle walking were not well insulated, and her nose, she did warm quickly. She kept her hands in her pockets,mostly because Gale’s hands were in his pockets. Now that they were on their way, Gale seemed relaxed.             

As they approached the park, Madge’s uncertainty grew. She felt her awareness of the dark shadows ramping up and her heartbeat picking up the pace.

“Do you do this a lot?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted with a grin. A jogger with a dog passed by.  

“I’m all for trying new things but are you sure this is safe? Because it seems kinda crazy. And I would really like to not wake up dead in a ditch somewhere tomorrow.”

“Trust me, we’ll be fine,” he shrugged off her concern. “Give it a chance and if you want to leave, just say so and we’ll leave. Buddy system, remember?” On her own, Madge thought the buddy system sounded awfully platonic, but somehow he made it sound flirtatious.

“Right,” she said.

There weren’t many people around, just a few figures here and there who all appeared to be on their way somewhere. Gale headed to the left when they entered the park. There were street lamps here and there providing pools of light enough to follow the path easily. You could see the buildings on either side of the park, the ones to the west towering over them from the top of a steep and tree-covered hillside. They walked together past the dog run where a few stragglers were still chasing each other. Their owners stood off to one side, chatting to pass the time while watching the dogs. Gale raised an arm in a friendly gesture; one of the dog walkers reciprocated. When they reached a fork in the path, they turned further into the park and north again. 

Other than being dark off the path, the park seemed fairly innocuous. Madge’s nerves began to calm down. “So is this your favorite park?” she asked. 

Gale shook his head. “Nah. It’s too small. But I like it. It feels homey.”

“Homey?” Madge was dubious. 

“Well, yeah. You’ve got playgrounds and b-ball hoops, baseball fields, the dog walk. You’ll have to see it in the daylight sometime,” Gale said.

Madge pursed her lips, annoyed.

Gale must have realized it.  “Sorry I bailed on Saturday,” he said quietly.

“Uh-huh,” Madge replied, noncommittal. The silence stretched between them as she debated whether to ask more. Her mouth was dry. “So … what happened?”

With a rueful sigh Gale answered, “um, well. It’s not a good story. My roommate Jimmy had stomach flu last week. As in, literally immediately after we talked about getting together, he starts puking his guts out. And doesn’t stop. I was kind of hoping it was just food poisoning or something. But then it hit Carlo on Saturday morning. I figured I was next.”

“Oh,” Madge said, wrinkling her nose and, to be honest, trying not to laugh.

“It wasn’t pretty,” he added. “I basically spent the weekend watching sports in my room and cleaning everything in the apartment. I figured if we came Saturday I’d ruin it by getting sick. Or something. It didn’t matter - I never got sick, but still - guess I got lucky. They’re both fine now, anyway.”

“Oh, that’s good,” she agreed. “So ...  um. Why didn’t you say so?”

“Sorry,” he sighed. “It’s not exactly, you know, a pleasant image. I was going to email you … but I don’t have your email. So that plan kinda fell apart.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well I’m glad you’re okay. And at least we’re here now.” She was mostly relieved that it was a decent reason. Still, if she had only known, the last few days would have been easier, at least. But, complaining now seemed silly -she felt immature, and didn’t want him to know she’d felt so insecure and jealous over it. She had no right to feel those things.

“Yeah, we are,” Gale agreed, his mouth curving into a smile as he looked back at her - she hadn’t even realized she’d slowed down. He reached out a hand to her. “C’mon, then.”  She took it, feeling his heat through the fingers of her gloves.

Up ahead there was water on their left, between the hillside - no, the cliff - and the path. Madge eyed the water as they walked. She joked, “My roommate knows where I am and who I’m with. So, you know, you can forget about any plans you had to slash my throat and toss my body in the water.” The cliff face across the water looked imposing in the dark, a hulking shadow.

“What?” Gale shook his head. “Wow that would make me the worst buddy ever.”

“I’m just saying, logically, it’s a bad idea,” she argued, trying to sound matter of fact.

“Oh, thanks,” Gale answered. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? I think you’ve been watching too many crime dramas with your dad. And come on,  Slash your throat? Seems unnecessarily messy.”

She laughed.

“Besides this is no place to dump a body. It’s not THAT remote,” he scoffed.

“Oh, thanks, that’s comforting,” she answered, still laughing.

“Well when you said you were afraid to go in city parks alone in the dark I had no idea you would accuse me of being a knife-wielding maniac.”

“I never said maniac,” she protested.

“It was implied. If you can’t trust your buddy who can you trust?”

“I trust you,” She grumbled. “But -”

“But what?”

“You want to talk about implications, how about this? What are the implications of me being alone with you in a strange park at night. I want to see the park and I’m sure it’s great but it’s really not why I’m here. If you want to be buddies that’s fine, but -”

He cut her off, saying, “I thought it would be romantic.”

“What?”

“The park. I thought it would be romantic. A walk through the park, moonlight, holding hands.“

Madge stepped in close. She tilted her face to his and kissed him. Her lips moved against his, soft and slow. He responded, and she felt his arms wrap around her.

She smiled against his lips.

“Romantic, huh?”

[jamesniall]

Answer them all haha

do you have a favourite sweater? idk i think it’s more a hoodie than a sweater lmao but yes it’s a disney one, with mickey’s ears and it’s kind of lilac and it’s soft and warm and i love it

what’s your middle name? paola :/ 

do you still talk to the first person you kissed? if u mean like, a kiss on the lips...i have never done that and i never ever will

do you get on with your grandpa`? i did :( my mom’s father was the best person i’ve ever ever ever met and i miss him so much everyday

what was your favourite cartoon as a kid? rugrats omfkg

what’s your favourite cartoon now? i dont watch them anymore tbh i dont watch tv anymore

do you read the news paper? sometimes, when things happen but it’s not a thing i dutifully do everyday nope

who was the last text you sent to ? my sister

what does the last text you sent say? ‘thanks u asshole’ lmao

if you could have any hair colour what would it be? i dont think i’d ever change my hair color tbh i dont think i’d look good in anything other than black

do you like nature documentaries? yeeeeess

what is your aesthetic? i....dont think i have one tbh....this is a very especific thing but i like concert pics where the artist looks tiny and u can see the crowd and the lights and the stage and it’s in HQ and i can set it up as a wallpaper lmao

when did you last pet a dog? like 2 minutes ago :’)

whose friend’s parents do you like the most? i dont have any friends in real life so i dont know anyone’s parents

have you ever been on a road trip? eehhhh yeah kind of? we used to go to a lil town called ‘anapoima’ and it was a 2 hour trip.....that’s it

tell me about someone you know called emma in real life? u dont find emmas in colombia so idk

are you reading a book in english class, what is it? im not taking an english class like the one you’re probably talking about but i am reading a book, well, re reading tbh, the all for the game series by nora sakavic 10000/10 would recommend

do you have a favourite aunt? yes, sorta, my aunt marta, she used to be my fave and #funfact she was the only one who could get me to sleep when i was a baby but she has her own kids now and we see each other like once a year so yeah idk

baths or showers? i have never in my life taken a bath so i’ll have to go with showers.....also i kind of dont understand how baths work??? do u just....sit there with soapy water??? how do u get the soapy water off??? with a shower??? i dont see the point of baths i have actually never seen a bathtub in my life

skiing or sun bathing? i’ve never done either of those so idk....also i hate the sun bc i get sunburnt in 2 minutes and skiing it’s basically impossible in a city where snow it’s...not a thing....so yeah

do you kill spiders? I WISH I COULD, that sounds mean but i hate spiders i know they are harmless and most of the time they are more scared than i am but i just cant physically get close to a spider, they scare me so fucking much i cant ever kill them so they always run away and i live with the endless anxiety of ‘where are they now? do i have lil baby spiders living with me now?’

have you ever made an ice pop? im not quite sure what an ice pop is so im gonna pretend it’s like...making a paleta so yeah i have

are you wearing shoes right now? nope, just fluffy socks

tell me about you favourite primary school/elementary school teacher i didnt have one

who was the last person you hugged? i havent hugged anyone in literal months so i dont remember

do you wear glasses? nope

do you have a cat? nope

do you have a favourite pair of underwear? yep

what was your last tweet? a response to niall’s knee tweet: lmaaaao this is the most me thing ever. did 20 minutes of cardio last tuesday and my knee's achey and swollen. also my hip hurts.

do you still use facebook? ehhh....kind of. to see what my high school ppl are up to i guess

do you like birds? yeah they’re cute

who was the last person you called cute? ......the birds of the question before this one? does that count? if not, probably my dog.

who was the last person that called you cute? idk it was probably years ago 

how did you meet your best friend? i dont have a best friend

escalators or elevators? it depends, there are days when elevators give me anxiety so i’d go with stairs then, but there are days my knees hurt a lot so i’d go with elevators then

are you named after anyone, who? nope

what was your first url? horan-nialler lmao

autumn or winter? idk i have never been through those

do you win at scrabble? ....i have never played scrabble

put your ipod on shuffle , who is the first song that comes up by? slow hands by niall horan lmao go listen to it on spotify and buy it on itunes

have you ever drunk from a mason jar? what is a jason bar?

can you draw? i can try

what was your first profile picture?i dont remember lmao

favourite tshirt? dont have one

best tumblr friend? i probably dont have one tbh

when did you last run? in my cardio class last tuesday

do you like to paint your nails? not really

did you ever do something as a kid that got you into loads of trouble? not smth super big that i remember

who is your favourite dog that isn’t yours? i only know by lil baby dog

have you ever been drunk? nope

have you ever done something you regret while drunk? go back to question 50

do you want to kiss anyone right now? nope. never. digusting.

do/did you like you math teacher? nope

do you often ride the bus? e v e r y d a y

do you have a fireplace in your house? nope and if i did i’d move out 

are you violent when you’re angry? nope

do you cry when you’re angry? ehhh...nope, i’d have to be way too angry and even then im just quiet

favourite Harry potter book? i havent read the books, just the movies

can you remember your last dream? yep, it was more of a nightmare tbh

do you go to bed early or late? depends if u consider 3-4am late or early

do you speak a second language? yes

who was your first ever best friend? i have never had a best friend

have you ever had an operation? yep, a tooth 

tell me about your favourite cousin i dont have one

do you have a piece of clothing that doesn’t even fit you anymore but you can’t bare to throw away? nope

have you ever been in a musical? nope

do you have a porch? nope

how many times have you watched your favourite movie?like 1 million probably

what do you order at mcdonalds? idk how to say this in english so: un combo de cuarto de libra con coca cola sin hielo y papas agrandadas

do you get on with old people? yeah i’d like to think so

science fiction or romance? a romance in a sci fi universe

do you take naps? nope but i wish i could

how many classes do you/did you take in high-school? like 20

when did it last snow where you live? it has never snowed but with the weather as it is i wouldnt be surprised if it started snowing one day bc climate change it’s a real and scary thing

does it ever snow where you live? see question before this one

how many months until your birthday? 2 i think

how much charge does your computer have right now? 100%

what is your favourite disney channel movie? hsm

the city or the sea side? sea side even tho i’ve only seen the sea once in my life

what is your least favourite colour? yellow

do you have homework to do? yes my thesis lmao

are you still friends with your first best friend?

do you have/are you the gay cousin? i am the gay cousin

do you own dungarees? nope, but i did when i was like 10

do you like to play sport? nO

what was your favourite ever christmas present? a polaroid camera

how old are you? 21

what is your mum’s name? angela but in spanish so anhela lmao

do you ever use internet explorer? nope

have you ever had blonde hair? NO

is their a play park near your house? yes but it’s a scary place, u go there, u get mugged

when did you last see the person you have a crush on? i saw niall horan on the 25 of april 2014 (im kidding i dont even have a crush on niall idk what a crush is tbh)

who did you last talk to on the phone? my uncle maybe

pants or dresses? pants

do you read fan fiction? it’s all i do

what is you’re favourite blog? @dailyniall

do you write poetry? nope

drama or comedy? drama, i love angst

have you ever had a hickey? no ew

Your own question that you want me to answer is niall horan coming to colombia on 2018? he fucking better

woooooooooow that was a ride odngkjdfg lmao THANK U that was fun!

[rollychan]

Mwahaha...you asked for it. OK 2, 3, 6, 7, 9 oh man this is a lot 16, 31, 32, 33 uhhhh shoot 36, 39, 40, 44 you know what fuck it just do the whole damn list man (ps I can totes send you a shorter list this is ridiculous I just started reading the list of questions and this happened I'm so sorry)

Oh boy, I wasn’t expecting any asks on that meme anymore lol But I really wanted to do that one so thanks

Answers under the cut (bc I’m nice and won’t make everyone scroll down endlessly to finally get past this post just because I can’t keep it short for the life of me lol)

2. Favorite genre of fic?

I’m sorry that I’m so boring, but I have to say romance lol (because the right romance fics are so much better than most published romance novels). But I also love love love some other plot in it. Actually, I don’t think I really have a set favourite genre? Whatever speaks to me, basically? Many of my favourite fics aren’t really all that similar to each other. But I guess since I’m looking for romance stuff the most, it’s romance.

3. Favorite fandom? 

Another tough question because I am so very indecisive, I can’t have a favourite fandom. I love many fandoms. I mean, I guess I’d have to say Harry Potter because somehow, I’m always coming back to it because there are just so many quality fic in there if you know where to look. It’s kind of also kind of one of my very first fandoms and now I’ve been in it for so long, I can’t just abandon it lol

Just fandom-wise I really really love Haikyuu because that fandom is just so nice? I mean, I’m not all that involved in any fandom I guess, which is why I miss many things and conflicts (e.g. I only found out about all the drama in the MCU fandom re Iron Man vs Cap or the drama in the Teen Wolf fandom through people I follow lol), but the worst I have witnessed in Haikyuu is how some people gave thought-out arguments (without insults) why one character is or is not coded as a “villain” type character (there was/is a dispute about one character because some hate/dislike him and others defend him). And that’s it. Other than that it’s mostly “OMG I LOVE EVERY CHARACTER AND SHIP EVERYTHING” from almost everyone in that fandom lol (or “I don’t care what you ship as long as you let me ship my stuff, ship and let ship”). It’s just really chill. It’s also the fandom that really made me a poly-shipper. Idk, man, I love that fandom.

The Yuri!!! on ice fandom is also really nice. Those people sure like to discuss and explain things lol Also, almost everyone had, literally, the same reactions to the stuff happening in it. Plus, we got a healthy, loving, explicit same-sex relationship in an anime. That’s, like, a really rare thing. The only other genre-anime I know with an explicit same-sex kind-of-relationship is No. 6, and that relationship is so friggin far from healthy it’s not funny (sorry, NezuShi fans, I am a fan of them too, but their relationship throughout the entirety of the series is not healthy by any standard, which is totally explainable by the circumstances, but seriously, they’ll have a lot of growing up to do before it can be called healthy). Anyway, I digress.

6. Favorite fic (or one of them)? 

HOW CAN YOU ASK ME FOR JUST ONE

I shall give you MORE THAN ONE, because I can and I will.

Okay, so, first I just have to tell you about my first absolute favourite fic ever, which, I’m really sorry, but it’s in German and it’s a Yu-Gi-Oh! fic lol

It’s “Paw Prints - Pfotenabdrücke” by someone I’m actually following on here ( @goldandcold ) who is an amazing and talented writer and I really have to read stuff by her again asdfghjkl but atm I’m into very different fandoms and just *cries* I need more time so I can watch the stuff she’s watching and writing for lol can someone, like, gift me a hundred free hours? lol

Anyway, that fic has character death in it, which is something I usually avoid at all costs because I know myself and I know I’ll be depressed about it for at least a week if I read character death. I’m like that lol

But I did because I always make exceptions for writers I like. Well, it became my favourite fic, so I guess I can’t complain. I will always remember the last words in there

“Du bist quer über mein Herz gelaufenwie ein kleiner tollpatschiger Hund über nassen Sandund du hast überall deine Pfotenabdrücke hinterlassen”

which roughly translates to

“You walked across my heartlike a little clumsy dog across wet sandand you’ve left your paw prints everywhere”

asdfghjkl I just love those words, they resonated with me so much and asdfghjk *flails* yeah, first fave fic. (also, now I’m in nostalgia land)

Another favourite fic I love to come back to is “Eclipse” by mijan (Harry Potter this time, back then I read it on fictionalley, but the link doesn’t seem to work atm? Is fictionalley down?). I am still entranced every time I read it and whenever I start it I have to continue reading till the end because I just love it so much. The plot is so amazingly intricate and the character development is THE FRIGGING BEST I CAN’T and everything makes so much sense and asdfghjkl it is just very amazing ok. The amount of detail in that story *sigh* *must resist reading it now before all the exams*

Another two favourite Harry Potter fics are “All Our Secrets Laid Bare” and “Stop All the Clocks”, both by @firethesound. AOSLB is just amazing all around, okay, I even reblogged a rec for it here on tumblr (here). I just love it so very much omg *flails* The idea alone to make them investigate Death Eater safe houses and all the FRIGGING DETAILS IN IT!!!!!! THE DETAILS!!!! SO MUCH LOVE!!!! (yes the exclamation marks are necessary)

I wrote a rec myself for Stop All the Clocks here. Weirdly, it also has major character death in it. But, same as above, I do make exceptions for writers I really like. That fic destroyed me though. I absolutely love the parallels in that fic, too. And how it spans many years. Just. Very beautiful, very touching, very sad. Which is why it’s great that there is AOSLB. I also still have to read all the other fics because I just KNOW they’re ALL amazing

And I’m still not done with the fave fics, guys. I’m sorry I can’t keep it short *cough*

Moving away from Harry Potter... the next one is for Free! Anime again lol It’s, weirdly, another fic that doesn’t end all that happily for the romance, and the fic is “With Vega At Your Left” by threesmallcrows. It’s a different take on a soulmate AU. Like, when the person you’re in love with isn’t your soulmate. A side character also deals with an abusive soulmate. Basically, everything that can go wrong with soulmate marks. And it’s just so real. Trigger warning for attempted suicide though (and mentioned abuse - like, the abuser doesn’t appear in the fic and the abuse is only talked about and the repercussions dealt with, but nothing explicit). I love this fic a lot, but it gives me the sads.

Okay, I still have a few favourite fics but I think I need to stop here, I’ll just link to them:

The Fears are Paper Owls by yaboykeiji (Haikyuu!! Akaashi does time jumps to try to prevent Bokuto’s death - kinda like Butterfly Effect)

Savior by dgalerab (Haikyii!! / X-Men crossover - Haikyuu characters as mutants)

Safety in Silence by survivah (Teen Wolf canon divergent soulmate AU with the soulmate “condition” not necessarily being reciprocated, lots of Sterek pining and friendship and angst, really slow-burn and really sweet and cute, very fluffy too, awesome idea to make it different for different species! Also, werewolves and other species are known to humans etc)

Gravity’s Got Nothing on You by FairyLights101 (Teen Wolf Sterek pretend to be dating AU, also the-Hales-survived AU and Laura is an important character in that fic, and because the Hales survived, Allison also lives, double yay)

Seven Deaths by x-parrot (One Piece, no pairings (le gasp!), just Zorro+Sanji friendship, there’s violence (torture) in it, it’s not very explicit, but be warned)

Aaand I think I’ll stop here.

7. One-shots or longfic? 

I think, if you look at my favourite fics, you have the answer lol. Many of them are 100k+, so yeah, longfic lol I love the development that is possible in longfics. I do like shorter fic too, though in my mind, one-shot just means it’s all in one chapter... and there are 20k one-chapter fics out there, you know. But! I do also like short stuff, it just doesn’t really end up being among my favourites.

9. What is the longest fic you’ve read? 

Tbh, I don’t remember, but Eclipse is over 287k words long, and I’m not sure if I’ve read anything longer than that.

16. How do you feel about character death in fic? 

I think I’ve answered that somewhere in that novel above lol

Usually, I avoid it like the plague because I get the sads and am down for days afterwards. It’s not that I think those fics are bad or anything. It’s just that I want happy endings lol My heart can’t take too much sad. This doesn’t change even when I make exceptions, so that’s kind of the downside I have to live with when I do lol

In published novels and movies and series etc I don’t mind character death, but fic... well, fic are different lol

31. Do you read AUs? 

Yes! I used to avoid them, but then I guess some fic changed my mind lol I really love all them tropes, soulmate AUs, fake-dating AUs, police procedural AUs, you name it. For some weird reason I’m not all gung-ho about coffeeshop AUs. I don’t mind them, and I’ll read them if they’re good, but they seem kinda boring to me. (oh, and pls don’t come with a/b/o stuff at me, it squicks me immensely and I hate it)

32. Favorite AU tropes? 

Fake dating! Soulmates! Specifically for Teen Wolf: Allison lives! The-Hales-Survived! Idk, there are too many lol Well, my fave is still the platonic bed sharing one (not sure if that counts as an AU trope, since it could also be written in non-AU fics). I also seem to like time travel / time jumps / time manipulation.

33. Least favorite AU tropes?

A/B/O fics. I just hate them and I don’t even wanna see them, they squick me *shudder* I mean, to each their own, and I wish it at least wouldn’t squick me that much (it’s a physiological reaction, I get the creeps and it’s almost like I feel one step away from nausea - same feeling I get when I see reader x character fic, squicks me too and is the sole reason I never visit the teen wolf tag because it’s full of those), but it does.

36. Do you like crossovers? If so, favorite crossover? 

I do! But I’m kinda still new to them and they’re not my favourite thing, so I haven’t read many crossover fics yet. I really like that X-Men crossover fic I linked to, and I do like Harry Potter crossovers (like, the other characters as witches and wizards in a wizarding school). Other than that I’ve also read a really cool Criminal Minds/House MD crossover once, and a Criminal Minds/Supernatural one too, and they’re pretty cool. Guess I still have to figure out what I particularly like when it’s about crossovers.

39. Favorite AU fic? 

Savior by dgalerab, as I’ve already linked above :D

This is also the fic that really got me into poly ships. The relatioship between the four characters just feels so natural as it develops, it feels like that’s how it should be. It also deals with past abuse and there is 120% consent invovled. It’s just a really good fic ok

40. Do you like fluff?

OMG I LIVE FOR FLUFF

So, yeah, I do lol I mean, I do need other stuff in it too, but I absolutely do like fics that aren’t too serious and where the conflicts aren’t life-or-death or heavy on the angst etc. Like, slice of life kind of stuff.

44. How fluffy is too fluffy? 

There is never a too fluffy +_+

Okay, jokes aside, I do want a plot. A story isn’t a story when there’s no conflict, so that’s that. Though that’s the only requirement for me, really lol Otherwise it can be as fluffy as it gets.

I hope I haven’t forgotten anything lol

Rolly out