#shout out if you stayed alive because someone else stayed alive

[aro-throughyourchest]

shout out to everybody staying alive out of spite

shout out to everybody staying alive out of persistence

shout out to everyone staying alive for your loved ones

shout out if you're staying alive in spite of them

shout out if you're staying alive in spite of your own health

shout out if you're staying alive. it's worth it I promise.

[willsdreamgirl]

“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy shelby x fem!reader

you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌

you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.

you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.

your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.

they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.

everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.

when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.

your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.

a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.

what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”

tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.

a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”

it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.

needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.

when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.

the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.

dearest y/n,

i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?

all my love,

tommy shelby.

you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.

dearest tommy,

to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.

only yours,

y/n.

tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.

that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.

4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.

“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.

after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”

your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”

he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.

he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”

you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”

“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.

things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.

ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.

you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.

he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.

“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.

“mornin’, sweetheart.”

[star-anise]

This is what the fight is like

Sooo, apparently the extremely tenuous and recent nature of the LGBTQ+ community's legal right to exist was not actually super widely known to a lot of people on Tumblr?

Which clarifies some stuff in retrospect. I have so often wanted to grab people by their lapels and shout, "Stop picking on someone for not meeting your entry requirements! We need everyone we can get, you asshole! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THEY HATE US OUT THERE?"

Aaaapparently... no, they did not know. Or they knew and were a conservative psyop preparing the ground for our loss of legal rights. Fun times!

So: Look, it is bad. Shit is scary. They really do hate us out there. You're not wrong.

But: This is what we've always fought. This boat we're in with its antique fittings and strange markings on the floor is a battleship. Work has always been going on in the basements, and when shit gets tough, we clear away clutter and roll out the cannons.

I found this chart a couple weeks ago and hung onto it because it felt like the map to my first 25 years on this earth:

[Image description: A graph titled "Same Sex Marriage: Public Polls since 1988." It is from FiveThirtyEight's NYT column. It records the percentage of US Americans polled who would say yes or no to legalizing same-sex marriage, from 1988 to 2011.

The two lines begin with roughly 10% saying yes in 1988, and 70% saying no; the two lines gradually draw closer over the years, until by 2011, the percent saying finally dips under 50%, and the group saying yes makes a tentative reach for the majority. End of image description.]

After some great social change has happened, when everyone has admitted that gay marriage is very cute and Pride is a colourful parade, hooray, people like to pretend that it was just natural and inevitable and happened on its own. People just became less prejudiced! Courts just decided on a case! Governments just passed a law!

In reality, it was a vicious fucking fight, every fucking time. Every fucking where. There are a lot of people who deeply, sincerely believe that a hundred years ago, society had good rules about sex and gender and intercourse and marriage, and that changing those rules has made the world worse. They don't always agree on the specifics, but they can work together far enough to fight anyone with new ideas.

This is why we are a community. Even when we don't have the same experiences of attraction or identity, even when we don't do the same things, even when we have wildly different ideas of a good time. Because when these groups take aim, we're all under fire, and none of us is responsible for why they hate us.

In some ways I think it's a miracle that there seems to be a generation that did not grow up, as I grew up, constantly glued to news reports about What Percentage of Society Hates Us this month. I can't imagine who I'd be if my brain and heart and soul hadn't been tied up, that whole time, in the political question of whether I'd get to dream of a decent future.

I think that it will give us strength to have people who can imagine a world where no one hates us. Who believe in it so strongly they can taste it. That's my prediction: If you didn't know this was coming, you'll be a boon to us, because we have always needed joy so fiercely, in this fight, to keep us going on. We have needed drag queens and punk bands and "her wife" and safe space stickers. Parade floats and wedding days and little dogs with rainbow collars, badges and banners and meetups, because more than anything else we need to fight our own despair, and our fear that the world will never get any better than this.

It will. We know it will. We can taste it.

Look up to the history, organizations, and people who've got us this far for information on what forms of activism will actually advance our political goals. Look to the side to make sure the comrades within reach are keeping their heads above water, and that you're keeping enough joy going to stay alive. Look back to see who's more vulnerable than you are that you might have forgotten or been tempted to leave behind. Look after each other. Look after yourself.

We can do this.

To your battle stations.

[nerdofthecentrey]

For Them | Cha Hyun-Su x Human Reader

Genre: Fluffy, Angsty

Summary: You do what you can to protect others and get hurt in the process.

Warnings: Blood, Getting hurt, monster descriptions, normal Sweet home stuff

Unedited

____________________________

It had been 16 days since this all started, It was terrifying but you wouldn’t lose hope. You wanted to stay alive not necessarily for yourself but to be with Hyun-Su. And for Kim Su-Yeoung and Kim Yeoung-Su the little kids both you’d both saved. You were determined for them to live, even in this cruel world they still deserved a chance.

You stood next to the stairs that lead into the rest of the apartment building. Your boyfriend stood across from you with that faraway look in his eyes.

“ I hate that you have to do this.” You sighed, glancing at the beaten door.

“Don’t.”

You looked back at him and he had this dead serious look in his eyes. You understood this was for the best but you still hate the way they treat him. You wish he wouldn’t take shit from everyone.

“ Gosh, Hyun-Su..I can’t keep letting them treat you like a caged animal. I’m gonna talk to Eun-Hyeok.-“

“ Y/N, Please.” Hyun-Su rested his hand on your shoulder bring you back.

“ I’m sorry, It’s just your doing so much for everyone here…. It’s like they don’t even care. I hate that.” You pause for sec thinking before you continue with, “ It’s okay if your hurt by this Hyun-Su. Your aloud to be upset-“

“ I have to go.” He cut you off in a quiet tone ready to retreat. You snatch his face back before he can go placing your lips on his gently. Warmth fills you and you savor the feeling. You never know when it may be the last time.

You headed into the daycare center not expecting to see Eun-Hyeok. It looked like he had just gotten finished talking because everyone was dead silent. He walked straight pass you out the door you followed. But before you could even say anything he spoke.

“ The answer is no.”

You suck your teeth, “ You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

He turned.

“ I’m guessing it’s about Hyun-Su. My answer is no.” with that he walked away. You let out sharp sigh. You‘ll get him eventually just not now.

“ Y/N..?” A small voice spoke in almost a whisper. It was Yeong-Su. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and his sister stood close behind him.

“ What’s up?” I asked a little worried.

“ Umm…” The little boy started his sister finished.

“ He wants you to come with us to get his toy. He lost it when we first got here. It’s on this floor. We just don’t want to get lost.”

Your heart warmed a little at the fact they were asking you and not someone else.

“ Of course, Shall we?” You held out your hand to the boy he toke it with a grin.

You all walked through the halls of the first floor. It’s only now you really understand how much a maze this building is. It makes your stomach turn a little at how many people actually lived here. Meaning how many lost their lives and how many turned. You guys had been walking for a little while before you could resist asking the boy.

“ Are we headed the right way?” He noded slowly showing you clear as day he was unsure.

“ Do you remember exactly where you lost it?”

“ No..” It sounded like he was gonna cry.

“ Yeong-Su!” His sister shouted forcefully pushing his hand out of his. “ You said you knew!”

“ I did know! … I thought I did.” He shouted back.

“ Hey.” You said sharply catching both of their attention. “ It doesn’t matter. We’re gonna find the toy either way. Let’s think of it like a mission okay?”

“ People who are working together shouldn’t argue and pointlessly yell at each-other. Deep breath.” You you inhale as did they. You exhale as did they. “ Now, Yeong-Su. Do you remember the area of where you left your toy?”

“ Yes, there was dirt it was in the hallway near the graves. It rolled into a room.”

“ That’s Good! I’m sure we’ll find it no time!” Before you can continue something goes off in your body. The atmosphere sudden tilting.

A bucket loudly crashed from the hall in front of you.

You push the kids behind you, cursing at yourself for not bringing a weapon. How are you constantly telling other to be prepared for anything and you aren’t even prepared. You look around for anything to use and find a short pole.

Just then you could see the shadow of a monster creeping up the hall. It’s tall and lengthy. You push the kids back the opposite way of the hall. Pushing them to run.

You knew it probably wasn’t the best idea to make loud noises but you weren’t far from everyone else. You wanted them to be safe as soon as possible being in the hallway was too vulnerable.

Just then the monster let out a loud screeching noises. You turn back just in time to see it round the corner, headed straight at you.

“ Run!” You shout. The kids pick up the pase sobs coming Yeong-Su and Su-Yeong pulling her brother along with all her might.

You grab a random cabinet pulling it down pushing multiple things in the way. It seems to slow the monster long enough for you to make back to the main area near the elevator.

Thud!

Yeong-Su fell to the floor. You quickly swept him up as fast as you.

A whimper come from Su-Yeong. Your head whipped around to see the monster creeping slowly into the room. Your heart was already pounding in your ears, your bones started to fell stif.

“ Go.” You tell them.

“But-“

“ Get the others.”

Su- Yeong didn’t wait she grabbed her brothers arm pulling him along.

You felt your body relax a little when you heard their foots steps getting quieter only for the monster to come bones cracking and stretching out with thin skin covering it. It was sickening to look at. You held up your pole knowing these we’re probably your last moments. But you were okay with that. As long as the others live.

Suddenly one of the arms came flying at you, you swung it away like baseball. Of course it only flew back but so far.

You ran closer to the main entrance leading it father into the hall.

“ Let’s go!” You yelled.

The monster seemed to let out some words you couldn’t understand. Only the word,

“ Family. ” “ I’ll do it for my family.”

The monster croaked sending his arm like tentacle thing towards you. You dodge to your left the tentacle missing you. But the sharp edge of a cabinet not.

You inhale sharply, but you can’t feel anything, not yet at least. Your whole body just feels warm and ready to move. You push yourself up from your spot grabbing onto the wall. You place your hand on your stomach to stop it from bleeding so much you fell the thick liquid coating your hand.

“ My family…my family…” The monster kept saying to itself eyes twitching. Sounding like it was trying to think or remember.

You leaned up against the pole watching the monster,

“ Hey!” A voice shouted a glass bottle was chucked at the monster it screeched in pain as it burst to flames. You jolt back from the heat your body hitting the wall feeling weak as ever. Ji-su rushing to you.

“ Oh my god, that’s a lot of blood.” She states.

“ Thanks a couldn’t tell.” You groan. Just then a loud buzzing sound rang from the door. You knew it was Hyun-Su it kept ringing violently. Till Sang-Wook opened it, you heard your boyfriend rushing down the stairs. Everyone watching the creature burn. His eyes fell on you.

“ Y/N!” He ran to you.

“ Hey.” You croaked.

He stared at you with a lost look on his face Ji-Su held you up. He had his lips parted as if he wanted to speak but he didn’t know what to say.

“ Maybe you should help!” Ji-Su shouted at him.

“ Right.” Hyun-Su said. “ I’m gonna lift you. It’s easier okay.”

He carried you to the room where Yu-ri works in. She patched you up carefully, Meanwhile you tried hard not to curse. While Hyun-Su stared with his lost eyes.

Once Yu-ri left you spoke.

“ Don’t keep looking like that.” You tell him.

“ What?”

You pause for second your heartbreaks a little, “ You look so lost. Why don’t you just share what your thinking?” Hyun-Su looks taken back but you go on.“ Hyun-Su, I won’t judge you for how you feel. I want you to tell me not keep it bottled up inside. Out of all the people still left in this word I won’t be the one to judge you.”

You watch a tear slowly falls down his face, you reach up brushing it away softly. He grabs your hand pushing your palm against his face. It’s like he said it all in that moment. More of his tears fall for the first time it’s like a wall had fallen down slowly. You watch him breakdown right in front of you. It hurt you to see. You pull his head down to rest between your neck and shoulders. Massaging his head gently.

“ I’m here, Hyun-Su.”

——————————————————————

A/N: Okay this is my first time writing anything that has so many parts to contribute in and my first Kdrama. Hopefully this is good. I might end up switching or adding more the ending. Let me know if you have any tips and/or misspellings.

[zodiyack]

Better For Me

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smoking, plotting

Words: 684

Request: Can you please do one for Tommy Shelby, where the reader is someone that he’s been pining over for as long as he can remember, but she’s never returned his feelings, she wants better for herself and desperately wants to escape Birmingham to have one, once he finds her plan he comes up with a scheme so that she will have no choice but to stay there with him (you can decide what that trap is)

Author’s Note: So I don’t exactly like the thought of her being 100% forced against her will, so I changed it a little bit to where she does indeed have feelings for him but never once said anything because she knew once she got involved with a gangster, her life would never be the same, and she wants better for herself. Hes also a little ooc.

YALL IVE EDITED THIS TWICE BECAUSE FUCKING MOBILE TUMBLR- DECIDED TO PUT MY ENDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BEGINNING.

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Taglist: @simonsbluee, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox, @marquelapage, @i-love-superhero @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @jenepleurepasbaby, @peakyxtommy, @babylooneytoonz, @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @darling-i-read-it​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @fandom-puff​

Her bags were stuffed to bursting with her belongings. She frantically packed the last of it in a barely spacious case. A knock at her front door scared her as it broke her from her hurry. She wasn't surprised when she saw the Blinder on her doorstep, only nervous.

"You're packing?" His cold voice inquired.

"Yes." She responded simply. Y/N avoided giving him too much detail. After all, he was who she was running from.

"Why can't you stay?"

She sighed heavily. "We've been over this Thomas. I need something else. I want a better life. I don't want to be in Birmingham forever." It was part of the truth. Really, she couldn't be around the violence, the theft, the gambling, the Peaky Blinders. Tommy.

She winced slightly. "No, I need to do this myself."

"I'll take you places. We can explore the world together, love." He chuckled lightly. "I promise."

Her words seemed to set him off. "Why? Can't I do anything to convince you to stay?"

"No!" She couldn't stop herself before she shrieked out the word. Covering her mouth in shock, she collected herself before speaking again. "I'm leaving, Thomas, and that's that."

"At least tell me why, love." He persisted. His hand reached for Y/N's. He definitely noticed something was wrong when she swiped her hand away. "Is it because of me?"

Yes.

"No, it's not because Of anyone! I just can't be here anymore. Tommy, I want to experience more than this place. I want a better life. We've been over this before, a thousand times." She huffed as she stuffed the rest of the items into her bag. “Please, just leave me to finish this up. I’ll stop by before I leave.” She turned away and waited for him to leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

When Tommy went outside, he spotted a copper doing his usual patrol. He nodded at him, gaining his attention. “I need your assistance.”

“What is it Mr. Shelby?”

He lit a cigarette, looking off into the distance. "Y/N L/N. If she tries to leave, prevent her in whatever way possible. Keep her alive, and inside of Birmingham." Tommy ordered, "by order of the Peaky Blinders. Alright?"

The copper nodded, "Yes Mr. Shelby. I'll make sure to it that everyone knows."

The door of the betting shop slammed shut after being aggressively swung open. Heels clicked angrily against the floor. Tommy didn't even have to lift his head to know who it was.

"You fucking bastard. You told them to keep me here?!" She shouted. Her brows were furrowed and her expression looked full of rage. "You fucking asshole!"

"You wouldn't listen to me." He kept his composure.

"I was leaving because of you!"

The truth shocked him, but he didn't let it show. Instead, Tommy stared at her with a stone facade. "I love you."

She shook her head in disbelief. "I know, Thomas. You've made it clear. You've made it clear for the past five years of our life. But I don't want that. Not for me, I need better."

"Better?" He tsked. "I could give you everything."

"That's the thing, Tommy! You're involved in so much, even being friends with you and your family, I worry for my life. Your morals, they make me wish I didn't feel this way about you. My morals, are what are telling me I can better my life. They are telling me to leave rather than get involved in this kind of life."

"Well, now you can discard those morals. Stay with me. Besides, it's not as though you have much choice." He quirked a brow, referencing the whole reason she was there in the first place.

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned around, clicking back to the door. She stopped in front of it with a pause. "I may love you, Tommy. But even if you make me stay, I will never get involved with you."

"Even if you make me stay..." She turned her head to him. "Not now," she faced the door again, holding onto the handle with a tight grip, "not ever."

[pharawee]

Gather around, fellow BL aficionados, it's time for part four of my Pit Babe novel commentary.

(And if you want to catch up, here are parts 1, 2 and 3.)

A word of warning: since I'm pretty far into the novel now (every post summarises five chapters) expect heavy spoilers, plot twists and revelations.

Oh, and omegaverse shenanigans. So many omegaverse shenanigans. You've been warned.

Also, a small warning for talk about and the aftermath of SA. As usual, please take care. 💜

Now, where were we? Oh, yeah: Way is the big bad enigma and he's been hypnotising Babe all this time - but gently (tm) because, you see, Way really, really loves Babe so that makes it all right...

Yeah, no. Get fucked, Way.

Currently, Way is still passed out on the floor, but as soon as Babe has come to terms with whatever the hell just happened, Charlie (who came to Babe's rescue just in time, remember?) offers to wake him up.

How? Oh, that's easy. He can put people to sleep at will. It's one of the many powers he absorbed from other powered alphas. That's his whole thing: he steals powers and just keeps them - like Rogue in X-Men but without any of the downsides. And as long as he's alive, the powers stay with him, never to return to their previous owner. Unless they die, in which case Charlie loses that particular power forever. Which in turn means that if Charlie dies... but keep that in mind for later.

Oh, and another one of Charlie's powers: changing his scent at will. Goddammit, Charlie.

As for how he knew that Babe was in danger? Jeff told him because he can see into the future. X-Men omegaverse, here we go.

But anyway, when Way wakes up he's confused because the last thing he remembers is SAing his supposed best friend. Now there's Charlie staring daggers at him, and one very angry Babe. Since Way is pathetic (but not the good kind) he attempts to explain: yes, he's actually Babe and Charlie's adoptive brother. Their father sent him to lure Babe back home and, well, get him pregnant. That was ten (10) years ago.

But, you see, Way is such a nice guy (tm), he didn't want to force Babe! Instead, he set out to ruin him for everyone else, thereby making it impossible for him to grow or heal or trust or love. Whenever Babe met someone he connected with, Way swooped in to poison his mind. And whenever Babe recoiled from that new connection, he turned to Way - the only person he could 100% trust. Or so he was made to believe.

So the Babe we meet at the beginning of the novel (and series) isn't really Babe at all. It's the version of Babe Way wants him to be - and for what? For ten years of pining and mindfuckery? What the hell kind of plan is this?

Oh yeah, the kind that gets you punched in the face. Thank you, Babe, you're really speaking my mind here.

And this is the part where the novel really shines because it doesn't just gloss over the implications of abuse. It doesn't leave Way's many empty apologies uncommented:

"I know what I did was unforgivable. I—" "Did you just realize this? Are you like this because I found out just in time?" Babe's voice boomed as anger flared in his heart. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he couldn't. "When I'm unconscious, you can assume it's okay to do it, right?" "I didn't want to do it at all…" "I don't care!" Babe shouted. "The point is, I don't want it! And you have no right to do this to me!"

But when Way's attempts to nice-guy himself out of his predicament don't work, he tries to shift the blame onto Charlie. Because Charlie lied too and, after all, didn't Way warn Babe about him?

Yeahhh, he's still trying to manipulate Babe. Way isn't sorry at all, he's only sorry he's been caught. Or, as the novel aptly puts it:

For Way, this might be like a love confession. But for Babe, it was no different from admitting his crimes.

But the novel doesn't leave it at that.

"So what's next?" Babe asked in a calm voice. "Should I thank you?" "What…" "I asked if I should thank you because you didn't rape me?" [...] "Should I thank you for not forcing me to bear your child?" "Babe…" “Even for my life, my body, and everything about me, I still have to wait for your mercy?”

And that's that. Ten years of (false) friendship have been erased just like that.

Really, I'm sorry for adding so many quotes but this whole chapter is just perfect in its blunt directness. It excels in giving Babe back his autonomy - the very thing Way has taken from him.

We'll return to our regularly scheduled omegaverse shenanigans after this bit:

"Did you know that every time you said that [there was never anyone suitable for me], it made me feel like I didn't deserve anyone's love?" [...] "And it's as if the only love I can receive is love from you…" Babe's sobs were so loud that his voice trailed off, but he took a deep breath and continued talking: "…but you never asked me what I really want." [...] "You only care about your own desires. You want to have me. You want to have children. You tried to make me love you and then agree to have children with you. Even though you always knew that I never wanted to have children." "I know you don't want to have children. And I know why," Way replied with a look that seemed to understand. But Babe knew that he didn't understand anything, not at all. "But because I know. That's why I want to change your mind." "It's not your job to change me."

And then, when Way has the audacity to try and hug him, Babe throws him over his shoulder and slams him right onto the floor, and even Charlie is like, damn, guess for a moment there I forgot how amazing Pit Babe is.

Damn right he is!

Later that night, things are winding down and Charlie insists on staying with Babe - just to make sure he's all right. Because unlike some people (!) he actually knows when to give Babe some space, and so he settles down on the couch in the living room while Babe stays in his bedroom.

But, understandably, Babe can't sleep. There's too much on his mind, none of it particularly good. He misses Charlie and, really, he's in dire need of an emergency hug.

It's Babe who approaches Charlie (only of course Charlie knew all along because he has super hearing now and he heard Babe's tossing and turning. Goddammit Charlie). They reconcile and it's really sweet because, in stark contrast to Way, Charlie's apology is heartfelt and reassuring and full of compassion. He also knows that Babe has been through a lot, so when Babe engages in their usual ritual of make-up sex, Charlie is hesitant:

Babe is so strong that he can lift bigger people and throw them to the ground. But believe me, no one is mentally strong enough to not be hurt by dirty things like that.

I just love how clear and concise the novel is on this part.

Anyway, they talk it out and Babe says that he wants to try anyway. What follows is a really sweet sex scene (but don't worry, Babe's still getting railed by his daddy to his heart's content - some things just don't change). There's talk about wild horses. I don't know why and honestly I'd rather not dwell on it.

Meanwhile, Way is being chewed out by Khun Tony (aka everyone's least favourite adoptive father). He's quite a bit upset but, honestly, what did he expect? He's the one with the stupid plan in the first place. Why did he even agree to let Way pine into Babe's general direction FOR TEN YEARS until he maybe catches feelings? The dude can hypnotise people! Just order him to do his evil immoral job!

But anyway, it's too late now. Babe's powers are already gone so breeding him (whyyy...) is pointless. Tony has a new target now: Charlie.

To my immense relief even Way is like, ew.

But it matters little because daddy dearest has contigency plans in place (and where were these plans TEN YEARS AGO - worst evil alpha breeder ever!). He orders Way to leave X-Hunter and return home immediately - and who knows, once Charlie is out of the picture Babe might end up as leftovers for him. Okay then.

In happier news, Charlie wakes up the next day with Babe's hand on his, well, little Charlie. I'm not being a prude here, that's what Babe calls it. It's a whole conversation, followed by - you guessed it - more sex.

Something is different this time, however. Without hesitation, Babe tells Charlie that he loves him, and then he asks him to be his boyfriend - to which Charlie eventually agrees. More sex happens. Actually, all of this happened during a blowjob which is very on brand for Babe. Things get disgustingly cute when Babe realises that this is the first time they're ~making love~ as boyfriend and boyfriend. This leaves him incredibly shy. Thanks to Way's meddling, he never had a boyfriend, after all. This is his first time being in love, and it's exactly as adorable as it sounds. Only with more mindblowing sex.

This includes sex in Charlie's supercar after a training session right on the racetrack (again I ask, have you even seen the interior of a racecar? How? Where? And who's cleaning this up? The mechanics??) as Jeff and Alan watch from afar.

"Why don't the two of them get out of the car?", Jeff said quietly as he looked at Charlie's car which had been parked near the finish line for a while and he saw no signs of it coming down.

Oh, my sweet summer child.

But yes, I'm happy to report that Jeff and Alan are probably going to be a thing in the novel too. This Jeff isn't a mechanic though. He doesn't even study engineering but oceanography (because he likes the ocean even though he's never seen it - live your dreams, my dude!).

As they sit and bicker, Jeff is suddenly struck by what seems to be another vision of the future. Whatever it is, it can't be good because it makes Jeff cry. Uh-oh.

He asks Charlie to meet him at his condo, and Charlie immediately notices that something's wrong. Only this time it's not Babe he needs to worry about. It's all of them.

I'm worried too but mostly for my own sanity.

Remember when I first explained about Tony's evil breeding program? Ah, those were easier, more pleasant times. Because now Tony figures that if he can't get an enigma to impregnate Charlie, he'll just get Charlie to impregnate an omega (because apparently there's a 50% chance that the baby will be an alpha with special traits - why is this novel explaining Mendel's laws of omegaverse inheritance to me?) .

Jeff is an omega.

And this is what Jeff saw: if they don't act now, at some point in the future Tony will have Charlie and Jeff brought back "home" and use aphrodisiacs on them (one up for the trope counter!). Jeff will get pregnant and as soon as their baby is born Tony will dispose of both Jeff and Charlie. This will cause Babe to seek revenge and get killed in the process.

What did I just read?

The novel keeps this from us for a while, and just casually mentions that Charlie isn't overly worried. He even finds the time to be jealous when one of Babe's old acquaintances shows up to Charlie's next race. They argue. The race starts without them reconciling, so naturally that means Charlie has an accident during the race.

It's bad enough that he's transported to the ER. But as the whole team anxiously awaits any kind of news, Babe realises in dawning horror that his heightened senses are slowly returning to him. He can hear Charlie's slowing heartbeat and the doctors fighting to reanimate him.

He listens as Charlie is pronounced dead.

The novel then cuts to Charlie's funeral which is only attended by a handful of people, mostly members of Team X-Hunter. Babe does not cope well at all but at least he's got Alan and Jeff to take care of organisational things.

Speaking of Alan and Jeff. These two have grown quite a bit closer. Close enough that Jeff asks Alan to let him take a look at Charlie's crashed car. The police are already investigating but Jeff wants to see for himself. Hm.

Meanwhile, Babe is alone at his condo, going through several stages of grief all at once (really, it's heartbreaking but so is the length of this post so I'm trying to keep things short). He's interrupted during the bargaining stage by someone knocking at the door. It's Way and he's come to offer his help. Babe might be grieving but he's not stupid, and so they meet up at a coffee shop nearby.

Way all but confirms that Charlie's accident was Tony's doing. What he meant to do was incapacitate Charlie but unfortunately Charlie died. OOPS. What a brilliant plan, really.

Seems like even Way has had enough of Tony's evil schemes so he's banded together with another enigma in order to bring Tony down. Said enigma is actually Tony's eldest "son" who seems to have escaped from his control to do his own (financially very successful) thing and bide his time until Tony eventually slips up.

That enigma is none other than Pete.

That's right. Pete and Way have teamed up to bring down Tony, and they're asking Babe to help them. Babe tentatively agrees.

While this is going down, Jeff visits some random uncle's secluded house. He's greeted by none other than Charlie (now somewhat worse for wear but very much still alive) who's faked his own death with the help of a man named Reval. Charlie feels guilty for lying to Babe again but they can't involve him in this: once hypnotised, he's still under Way's influence (uh-oh...) and could risk all of their careful planning.

Their plan? Getting rid of Charlie's powers before Tony can get to them.

This is where Reval comes in. He also has powers: he can somehow disconnect an alpha (or omega or enigma, I suppose) from their powers - which is apparently a very difficult and time-consuming process (and would otherwise kill the alpha), especially with someone with as many powers as Charlie.

Why does Reval do this? Oh, he's Babe's real father who's been in hiding until now out of shame and guilt (and some memory loss). Surprise!

Also, very convenient. 🤡

[nburkhardt]

Be Your Alibi

This was supposed to be a small thing, it ended up not being small. My bad. Btw, the narrative is all over the place sorry about that. Couldn’t stick to one person this time around. Special shout out to @mentallyundone for all help with parts of this means a lot!! 🩷 (this definitely should’ve been like a three parter, also no read more because the app doesn’t have it and it deletes my stuff when I do use it)

ENJOY~~

The whole group is in the hospital, half of them needing to be looked at and the other half not quite threatening anyone but definitely trigger ready. It’s not long until the police come in, immediately handcuffing Eddie to his bed and having someone stand there to stop anyone from entering. Nancy manages to convince Dustin that he’ll be fine, they’ll figure out how to get the handcuffs off and keep him out of jail, but for now the handcuffs and police officer stays.

“What else could we tell them to let him go?” Dustin demands. It’s been officially two weeks since they defeated Vecna/Henry/One and Hawkins is slowly putting things back together. The Party is all together again and the actual adults are back with a very alive Hopper. The only ones not with them is Max, who’s still in an induced coma, Lucas is with her and Eddie, he’s still in the hospital with a hand in handcuffs but overall recovering and most likely annoying the hospital staff (and the police guard).

“Powell told me that unless he has a solid alibi that isn’t a kid, there’s nothing until Owens releases the cover story” Hopper explains, a glare directed at Dustin who had his mouth open again, “no, your little club doesn’t work either. Half of it is kids under eighteen.”

Dustin huffs and crosses his arms, “well! What else could work?”

Standing next to him is Steve, who bites his lip as he thinks to himself. It’s not the plan, it could end up horribly for him and Eddie, but they do have enough information on each other and all their past dates to be a very reliable alibi. He’s also not a child, turning twenty very soon actually and Wayne could back him up. It could, technically work.

Looking around at the lost and frustrated faces, it makes up his mind. He pushes himself off the wall and clears his throat, getting the attention on him. “I can be his alibi”

It’s uncomfortably silent now, he feels his skin crawl as everyone in the room stares at him. Nearly all of them look doubtful, Dustin’s snorting like it’s a joke, “oh yeah? And what were you doing? You don’t even like Eddie”

Steve blinks at him and holds back a laugh, because him not liking Eddie? Not possible. If anything, he likes Eddie too much. Way too much actually. Wayne told him once that he and Eddie can be insufferable actually. Not that anyone in this room knows that.

“I can be his alibi,” he repeats louder, ignoring Dustin completely and staring straight at Hopper, “He had hellfire and I went to the basketball game, but he came home with me. We had pizza from DomiNick’s, I have leftovers and we watched Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. We didn’t finish it, got too caught up into each other.” He glances away, face flushed as he thinks of their last date night, “We took a shower then crashed in my room”

No one says anything, all just staring at him and he’s even more uncomfortable. If Eddie was next to him, he’d make some sort of joke to get the attention off him. But he’s not here and Steve just wants someone, anyone to say that the alibi will work.

“Are you, are you really suggesting that you and Eddie were hanging out?”

He shakes his head, “We weren’t just hanging out, we were on a date. If you want more, proof or someone to back me up, we can ask Wayne. Eddie’s uncle, he’ll back me up”

Hopper shakes his head, rubbing a hand down his face before looking back at him. “Harrington, you do understand what you’re saying, correct? You’re willing to say you’re dating another guy.”

“You don’t even know if Eddie will be willing to do that!” Dustin nearly shouts out, “you think someone will believe that? The story has a lot of details and you’re saying that you like men, but there’s no way anyone would believe that!”

Steve crosses his arms, determined and annoyed that they don’t know how much thought he’s actually put into this. How he knows Eddie will eventually agree and repeat the story with even more details, like how they decided making out on the couch was more fun than watching Luke Skywalker try to get Darth Vader away from the dark side or that they ended up in the shower together before falling asleep in bed wrapped around each other. “I know what I’m saying Hop. I’m completely fine with admitting it now, and Eddie will be fine with it”

Hopper nods and grabs his shoulder to pull himself up, “come on then, let’s go now while you have that story fresh. We’ll talk it over with Munson, you sure about his uncle?”

“yeah Wayne will be fine with it” he nods and looks back at his friends, all of them staring at him with varying looks of disbelief and confusion, no disgust or anger. Well, Mike looks annoyed and maybe there might be disgust. Honestly, that just might be Mike’s default for Steve. Hopefully there isn’t disgust or anger later on when it comes to light how true his ‘story’ is. He doesn’t think that matters right now though, “Eddie won’t need us to get the story straight- um, that really did happen. Just not that day” He finally admits once he and Hopper are outside and getting into his car.

Hopper’s in the passenger seat, he still looks exhausted over what had happened. The man didn’t even bother with demanding he drove, “The hell you mean?”

He grips the wheel, pulls out of the driveway and takes a deep breath before admitting, “I’m actually dating Eddie. We’ve been together before Starcourt was burned down, he kept bugging me at Scoops. Didn’t think anything of it until his friend Jeff explained to me that Eddie was actually flirting with me, told me to either tell Eddie I don’t like guys or to give him a chance.” He glanced over out of the corner of his eye to see Hopper rubbing a hand up and down his face, “That was nearly nine months ago, I’m practically living with him and his uncle”

The drive is even more silent after, Hopper’s mumbling something and Steve can’t hear him. But he’s at least not cursing him for dating another guy, so it’s not all terrible. They make it to the hospital in no time, parking close enough to the front for Hopper. Steve spotted Wayne’s truck while parking, thankfully they wouldn’t have to make multiple stops.

“So, you, uh you’re gay then?” Hopper’s gruff voice cuts into Steve’s thoughts, “That’s what you’re saying?”

He shakes his head, not answering him yet. Flashing a smile at the receptionist “Here to see Munson, please”

It’s only once they’re in the elevator and alone that he answers, “I’m not gay- I still like girls. I just, just like Eddie too. I think he called it bisexual?” Shaking his head he looked back at Hopper, “doesn’t matter right now. Wayne knows, it’s hard to keep things from him, he probably already knows all of what really happened, Eddie doesn’t keep many secrets from him”

He shakes his head and smiles, thinking it’ll be nice to have another actual adult around that knows what hell they’ve been through. Hopper doesn’t bother saying anything else and Steve’s a little thankful for it. This was a lot even if he offered it, once he’s outside of Eddie’s room he ignores the police officer in favor of just opening the door (also ignoring the “hey!” From said officer) and walking inside with Hopper following him.

“Stevie-baby!”

He doesn’t bother hiding how hearing Eddie’s voice makes the tension go away, he’s smiling and there’s Eddie sitting up in bed with his yellow sweater pulled over the hospital gown, a notebook sitting in his lap. Wayne’s sitting down in the chair next to him.

“Hey Eds” he moves closer and sits next to him on the bed, “Got some bad news and uh, good news I guess?”

Eddie squints his eyes at him before glancing at Hopper, his body goes a little stiff and Steve notices Wayne sit up straighter in his chair. “bad news?”

Steve reaches for his free hand and squeezes, “You’re stuck with handcuffs still since the police want a solid alibi. Since the cover story still isn’t out yet”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying not to get too upset. “And the good news? Is it good or just, not bad?”

“Well, it’s news?” Steve doesn’t know how exactly to describe the fact that he’s willing to out himself and Eddie and their whole relationship, it’s a lot, something he didn’t think they would need to do at all. At least not of people not in their inner circle, “I…offered to be your alibi. That we were together when everything happened, pizza with Star Wars. My house, and uh,” he glances up at Wayne, “Also said Wayne could also back us. That he knows about us”

The room isn’t quiet, the beeping from the medical equipment is still going and there’s the bit of noise from outside but everyone in the room is quiet. Eddie’s eyes are wide and Wayne looks concerned, and Steve is gripping Eddie’s hand like a lifeline still. Hopper has moved enough to lean against the sink and he hasn’t spoken yet, he doesn’t have a reaction.

“Stevie, you- are you sure?”

He nods and moves to sit on the bed, facing Eddie, “Yeah, Eds. I’m not, like excited but there’s nothing else anyone could come up with. They don’t want to take the kids words and everyone else in town believes Hellfire is a cult. We know each other, been together so often and Wayne has seen us, the boys too. We have a number of dates behind us that we wouldn’t need to study a fake story”

“But, baby- I can’t ask you to put yourself out there like that, I don’t want you to-“

Steve shakes his head and ignores the eyes on him and Eddie as he leans forward to rest his forehead against Eddie’s, “You don’t have to, I’m offering. I love you, honey. I don’t want you in jail, you’re innocent. I’ve thought about it, they’ll figure out why we didn’t come forward. Or we explain how dangerous it is for us, either way, I’m doing this for you”

Eddie’s eyes are watery, he nods and slumps against Steve.

It doesn’t surprise Wayne to see the boys like this or to hear those words of love either. He’s been hearing it for the last few months now, even before the official three words were said from his boys. Eddie is and always will be a sap and Wayne has found out that Steve is right there with him. He doesn’t make it obvious that he’s still on edge with the idea of them outing themselves to get the police off their backs. For now he looks over at Hopper, raising an eyebrow, “Ain’t you supposed be dead?”

Hopper shakes his head, rubbing a hand down the back of his head, “Didn’t stick. Harrington wasn’t lying?”

“He wasn’t, these two are lovesick fools. That should be enough right?” Wayne glances at the boys and finds Steve rocking Eddie slightly, he can barely catch him telling his nephew about what he missed, “need a straight answer, will this work?”

“Christ, it should. Powell’s good, reasonable. The whole- thing should work” He looks a little off center as he looks at the two on the bed before looking back at Wayne, “He said your nephew doesn’t keep secrets from you, what’d he say?”

Wayne crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, “Apparently he’s been to hell and that Steve’s been dealin’ with it with y’all since eighty three. Things make a whole lot more sense now”

“Yeah, that sums it up” Hopper nods along before sighing, “I don’t want to say it because the last time, I ended up locked away in an Russian prison. But, this could be it. Hopefully we’re done”

~~

The plan is simple, bring physical proof and statements and Wayne to the police station. Steve’s got pictures, the boys statements along with Wayne and a determination to get his boyfriend out of handcuffs. Nothing was gonna stop him, even if Dustin still didn’t believe it would work.

Powell looks permanently tired and unamused, “Sit down, Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson. What can I do for you?”

Steve sat up straight and placed his box on the desk, “I’m here to tell you, Eddie’s innocent and he wasn’t with Chrissy when she died, he was with me”

“Why was she at his trailer then?”

Steve made sure to keep his face natural, and not annoyed so quickly. “I’m not sure about that, maybe she broke in and thought he was there? We’ll never know but what I can tell you, Eddie was at my house with me when she died. We had pizza from DomiNick’s and watched a movie, then crashed in my bed.”

It’s quiet then, Steve and Wayne both on high alert waiting for Powell’s response. This is where it’ll be either a death sentence for both Eddie and Steve or a realization that there’s at least one more person in this small minded town that isn’t close-minded.

Powell sighs and runs a head down his head and just looks at Steve, then slumps just a bit, “Look, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying. I’m not going to do anything to you for even implying it for your friend. I don’t think you’ll want that to be your official statement to the public, correct?”

“Well, I mean, no. But Eddie really is innocent, there’s no way he did any of it.” Steve answers back and slumps in his seat, “Could- is there any way it doesn’t have to be released officially? Like- like-“ he’s grasping at straws trying to figure out something, anything to say.

“Look, kid. I’ll take your statement and visit Munson to see if it matches-“

“it will!”

He sighs, “I’m sure it will. Since the town decided to do a witch-hunt against him while I’m chief of police, and I don’t want another one happening. I’ll get take the cuffs off and start paper work to get him under a house arrest instead, then i’ll help you figure out a different way to stop a mob”

Wayne eyed him, crossing his arms, “you’re willing to help now?”

“Truthfully, I didn’t think your nephew did any of this. I only caught him selling once but besides that? His hands are technically clean. I saw what happened to all those victims, I don’t see how he would’ve done any of that by himself.” Powell explained and leaned forward looking between the two, “So, we’ll have your statement, take Mr. Munson’s and seal it. The town won’t hear the real one, I’ll give them something else entirely”

Steve nodded while his brain raced with thoughts. “So, you’re uh, okay with what I was saying?” He needs to know if his and Eddie’s secret is safe. Needs it said aloud and not just implied, before he can feel even remotely okay with what might be happening, it needs to be said.

“Harrington, I’m not sure what exactly you want from me right now. Just know that what you’re telling me will be between us and will stay sealed once this is all over, as long as I don’t catch either you or Munson doing anything illegal, all is fine with me.” Powell explained and pulled out a drawer, “Now, we’ll start that paperwork and then I’ll visit the hospital later, I assume both of you will be there?”

Paperwork doesn’t take long and before Steve can really process what just happened, he’s back instead the comfort of Wayne’s truck and they’re driving back to the hospital. It’s been two days since he told his friends and coming up with this fake alibi at least until Owens and the government comes in with their own cover-up. He’s hoping that happens before any official statement comes out from Powell.

~~

The excitement of Eddie being released under house arrest is dimmed just a little by them getting ambushed by their friends.

Steve is too busy being an overbearing boyfriend and watching Eddie’s every move as they walk into his house to notice the group in the living room. Eddie’s too busy whining about being fine, “Stevie, I’m fine. The doctors said to just take it easy. You don’t have to be this paranoid, just- gimme your hand” he quickly grabs Steve’s hand and stopped them from moving, “All I need right now is this, okay? Well, maybe a bed and you as my pillow-“

“Ew!”

Both of them don’t jump necessarily, they do flinch and Steve pulls Eddie closer to himself. That’s when they notice Dustin and the rest of them, Dustin’s the one they focus on since he’s the one who spoke up. He looks more annoyed than anything, there’s not a hint of anger or disgust.

The rest of the group looks curious, Steve can see Robin’s face and she looks happy and pissed off. He knows it’s because they’re soulmates and he never told her about his boyfriend. The other one that stands out to him is, Will. He’s wide eyed and look’s grateful for some reason.

Steve sighs and says, “Look, maybe we can talk about our relationship another day? Eddie just got out of the hospital and I just outed our relationship just to save him from being thrown in jail.” He doesn’t tell them that he’d also just like to be in bed with Eddie and know that he’s alive and safe with him.

There’s grumbles from most of the group, everyone walking out and the only ones left with them is Robin and Dustin. They’re not surprised, especially Steve. These two are stubborn. “We’ll leave after you explain why you never told us about you, thought we were best friends?”

“You are my best friends,” Steve starts off and flicks his gaze between both of them, before settling his eyes on just Robin, “We meant to, even when the relationship was still new and before the Russians appeared. But then the upside down was back and then school was back.”

“Eventually we just sorta, gave up trying to figure out a good time” Eddie took over, squeezing his hand before looking at the other two, “we still had plans to tell you. My friends, they’ve known since the beginning and Stevie wasn’t out to either of you so- plans happened but so did life”

Robin and Dustin are quiet and Steve doesn’t know what to do with that, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, really.”

“Dingus- you don’t have to say sorry” Robin says then pulls both of them in a hug, “I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to say that. I’m happy for you, really! Maybe a little annoyed you managed to get a boyfriend before I got girlfriend” she whispers the last part in his ear and he laughs and squeezes her, “I do want all the details of how you became a couple!”

She smacks a kiss to both of their cheeks before walking out and then it’s just them and Dustin.

“I’m- still so confused, but I guess I get it. I’m sorry for exploding on you, Steve.” Dustin admits, shaking his head, “Just, why would you hide even a friendship between the two of you from me? I’ve been trying to get you two to meet and you’ve known each other the whole time?”

Steve sighed and moved away from Eddie to pat Dustin’s shoulder before pulling his cap down, “Look, Eddie and I’ve known each other for years. We did go to school together- yes we didn’t run in the same circle- and it took me getting a lame job-“

“And a hot sailor outfit!”

He rolled his eyes and Dustin pulled a face, mumbling out “ew” before looking back at Steve, “anyway, it took a lot for us to even get together and then after, I just- I just wanted something for myself for a bit but his friends already knew then his uncle, so we did planned to tell you guys especially after you joined hellfire. But you have to know how scary it is for us”

It takes Dustin a second for it to process, because that’s one thing Steve knows about him. He’s a genius but sometimes things just don’t process the same way. Especially things like this.

Dustin nods, “yeah, yeah I’m sorry for getting upset again. So you were going to tell us- tell me?”

“Of course, dude. You’re our annoying little brother, would’ve told you guys. We did have a plan, the upside down ruined it” Steve grins and moved back to Eddie.

Eddie grins too but doesn’t move closer, instead he wraps his arms around Steve to lean his weight slightly against him, “now scram, I wanna cuddle my boyfriend.” That gets his desired reaction, Dustin scrunches his nose In annoyance and walks rolls his eyes before walking out the door. Leaving the couple alone officially.

Instead of moving, Steve turns Eddie around so they’re facing each other and leans his forehead against Eddie’s. Eyes closed, arms wrapped around each other. Only a simple kiss is enough for them right now, just enjoying being each others arms is enough. They’ll eventually go to Steve’s bedroom, undress to their boxers and climb into bed. Steve on his back and Eddie not necessarily curled into his side, since his bites are still healing and hurts, but still he gets his wish for his boyfriend-shaped pillow.

Tomorrow they’ll officially tell their friends about their relationship and explain what happened with Powell. For now, they’re just happy to sleep in the same bed with each other and not have to worry about the upside down or monsters. All that matters is them.

_______

Wellllllllll, I didn’t mean for this to get this long. Like, I was just wanting the alibi thing but with an actual secret relationship 🫣 I went a little outta hand and honestly I probably could’ve wrote out them telling their relationship to everyone but decided nah. Maybe I’ll write that out another time. Tagging those who made comments on my original post & those I talked to about this!

@i-less-than-three-you @artiststarme @stevesoli @grandwretch @val-from-lawrence @mentalcyborg @boop-ba-doop @lwhoscribbles @itsfreakingbats @annoyinglyfanon @counting-dollars-counting-stars @moonshadows-13

[forestshadow-wolf]

The 141 have to go to some ceremony or like an international meeting that involves the 141 or something. So they're all in their dressing blues or whatever.

And the place gets attacked. It's an explosion that throws them all off their feet.

When soap comes too, after what couldn't have been more than a few seconds, his ears are ringing, the world seems like it's moving too fast and too slow at the same time.

He feels himself cough, as he looks around. Things are on fire. He has to check if he's hurt, he knows he does, his hands pat around his torso. Nothing that could be considered pain flared at him as sounds start to return to him.

He looks down at himself, he's dusty and dirty. Ghost is crouching in front of him, saying something, he's just as dusty, the half balaclava looks more white than it does black now.

He feels his voice more than he hears it when he yells "What?", his ears still trying to clear the ringing from his head. Ghost just yanks him up by the lapels, that seems to shake the shock out of him.

Everything floods back to him like a tsunami, then he's up and moving. Shouting orders he can barely hear, hauling officers up off the ground, trying to spot price and gaz.

He's ushering people away from the blast site when he finally spots price, helping a woman out the door and handing her off to someone else.

It's when he's almost reached Price does he start to hear gunfire in the not distance. That is not good.

He finally reaches price, Ghost by his side, having obviously had the same thought as him.

"Where's Gaz?"

Price and Ghost look around, at the very obvious lack of the man. The gunfire is getting closer now.

"You mean you haven't seen him?", Both he and Ghost give a negatatory. "Shit- shit shit shit. Alright Gaz is second priority. Staying alive is first. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

A second explosion rocks the building and one of the inner walls crumbles. SHIT. That is very not good, he thinks as the three of them duck behind a pile of rubble as lead flies into the room.

A hand automatically reaches for the sidearm that's not there. Damn these formal events. Damn them to hell. Old fashioned way it is then. At least most of the people here are trained for combat...

It's hard to say what happened between the three of them slitting up, and when ghost tackles him behind a slab of concrete just before a bullet whizzes past them.

"Solid?"

Price snaps his neck from behind, didn't even see it coming.

"Yeah"

"Anyone found gaz yet?" Price asked

"No sir. Not yet-" another explosion rocks the building and he thinks he can hear something in the walls straining to stay up. It must've been a pre-set charge because they don't hear anything other than more should as more of the building comes down. "Cap. These walls won't hold much longer, we have'ta get these people out. Now." He watches more of the wall buckle and a piece of the ceiling fell.

"You and Ghost get them out, I'll find gaz." The captain growls. They nod an affirmative.

They're rushing the last person out when price finds them, Gaz hauled over his shoulder. He can hear the walls groaning now. They have about no time at all, so he rushes price and gaz out first, then ghost. It's not a moment after he's following that he hears the structure supports coming down, and it'll take seconds for the rest to follow.

It's pure luck, and maybe a tiny bit of skill that has him literally barrelig ghost out as the entire thing collapses.

He lays on the ground panting. Ghost is groaning beside him.

"Okay. It's official. I hate these stupid ceremonies." Ghost laughs beside him.

When he pushes himself up he can see price crouched next to Gaz, everyone else is milling about, thankfully he sees no other threats.

It takes an hour to get contacts oht for air support. But they do get it eventually.

------

The debrief was a shitshow. As predicted. They still don't know the purpose of the attack, best guess was that it's might have been a distraction, but no other base was attacked, and they can't find any missing data or servers. Everyone is on high alert about the situation.

[haikyuuhoo]

if you could change anything, please just stay the same (because i love everything about you)

pairing: gojo x reader (but their relationship isn't the focus of this at all, just a very small part of the foundation)

wc: 876

a/n: meant to take place immediately after the end of jjk 0. sorry for the sads, but i thrive in angst. also sorry for the fact that this is very rushed and probably not great lol i just wanted to write something and this is what happened.

listen

The wind whips around you as you step out onto the roof, and you have to fight to keep your balance as you walk toward the figure standing on the ledge.

He’s got his hands in his pockets, facing out over the rest of Jujutsu High’s campus and staring silently at the rubble that the day’s incidents have caused.

“Do you think it could have been different?” Satoru asks when you approach.

You’re surprised he heard your footsteps over the sound of the wind, but then you remember that it’s probably not that, that he probably sensed your presence—or whatever it is those eyes of his allow him to do.

“What do you mean?” You know he’s asking about today, about the fight and the wreckage and the casualties, but you’re not quite sure which part he’s asking about specifically. “I’m sure lots of things could have gone differently, but we didn’t know exactly what they were planning. We prepared well, I think, but—”

“Do you think Geto could have stayed?”

You’re taken aback, not at all expecting that question, and expecting even less that he would be asking about something that happened ten years ago. You stare at him, weighing your response before you finally speak. “You know he couldn’t have. You let him live, but he would have been killed if he stayed here.”

Satoru hesitates, his body unwavering despite the fact that the toes of his shoes are hanging over the ledge and the wind is picking up. Part of you worries he wouldn’t even try to stop himself if he fell.

His voice is incredibly soft when he speaks next, but you still hear it.

“Do you think, if I weren’t me, he would still be here?”

You physically recoil at the question, and you immediately want to say no, to shout it over the wind, but your throat is closing up and you can’t even attempt to speak before he continues.

“We were the strongest. And then I… I pushed him away, didn’t I? I was so focused on perfecting my technique and becoming the best that I didn’t even realize that we turned into me. And I didn’t even notice what was happening to him, how… not okay he was.” He swallows hard, and you imagine he’s squeezing his eyes shut tight behind his bandages in that way he does when he’s frustrated. “I was so selfish.”

Satoru turns to face you, and you nearly reach out to pull him away from the ledge. You know the fall wouldn’t kill him—not even close—but it still makes your stomach lurch with unease. “If I was literally anybody else, he would still be here. He would still be alive. I wouldn’t have had to—” His whole body shakes with the breath he sucks in. “Do you have any idea how often I wish I wasn’t like this?”

This time you can’t help yourself, you reach out and tug him toward you, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as if he'll fall away if you let him go. And he lets you, drops his infinity so you can touch him—so he can touch you—and Satoru nearly crumples in on himself, clinging to you as he begins to cry. “I’m trying so fucking hard—”

“I know,” you whisper. You’ve never seen him like this. It was bad when Riko died and worse when Geto defected, but Gojo Satoru has never seemed so small before, has never needed someone to hold him together.

Because he’s the strongest, after all.

He doesn’t need anyone.

Right?

“If I could go back, I would change so much. I would change me if I could, I swear. I don’t deserve to be here any more than him just because I was born with these stupid fucking techniques.”

“Don’t say that,” you say quietly, because you know if you speak more than a whisper he’ll hear that you’ve started crying too. “You’re so good, Satoru. You care so much about these kids and you never stopped caring about Geto. If you weren’t you—”

“If I weren’t me, everything would be better.”

You feel your heart shatter in your chest.

Because you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s not true.

But you stay quiet, the statement hanging in the air, just letting him hold you because you know that’s what he needs right now.

“If I could change anything—”

“Don’t change a thing,” you say firmly. You feel a sob wrack through him, and you bury your face against his shoulder. “Don’t change. We need you.”

I love you.

You know this will pass. That tomorrow will come and you’ll all rebuild, forever altered, but you’ll slowly get better. That he’ll go back to being Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and the typical annoying goofball that you fell in love with.

But for now, you’re content to let him need you, to let him hold you tightly and be vulnerable in a way he so rarely ever allows himself to be, to help him carry some of the weight of the world that was placed on his shoulders the day he was born.

reblogs & comments always appreciated <3

[lotanxiety]

You’re not alone

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean and Sam notice you aren’t taking good care of yourself and they are worried about you. Dean talks you through it and offers support.

Warnings: mentions of ED, SH, and depression, this has some seriously heavy shit so if this triggers you PLS don’t read, fluff with dean

——————————————————

You have lived in the bunker with the boys for 3 years. Lately, your mental health has been really bad, but you were trying to hide it from Sam and Dean. With everything they dealt with on a daily basis, the last thing you wanted them to worry about was you.

It all started 4 months ago when you started having nightmares and flashbacks of the times you almost died. You were pretty sure you had PTSD, but with your lifestyle, therapy wasn’t really an option. You grew up with abusive parents which didn’t help with the accumulating trauma. The body keeps score and it seemed to all be catching up with you now. First, it was the nightmares, then the dissociating. The only times you felt alive were when you would fight monsters which led to your newest bad habit.

Whenever you didn’t feel real or got angry with yourself for whatever reason, you would take it out on your hips. It was something you could control. It reminded you that you’re real and it’s served as a punishment when you felt you deserved it. Seeing the red lines across your hips made you happy when everything else seemed grey.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, it was increasingly more difficult to get out of bed each morning. You would forget basic human necessities like eating, drinking, or bathing. You were able to hide your struggles before, but now it’s becoming noticeable. On the days the boys were home, you would fake it the best you could so they wouldn’t pick up on anything wrong, but not anymore. Maybe you want someone to notice. Maybe you finally want to be saved and cared for the way you save others.

———————-

*around noon*

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” Dean asked Sam walking into the kitchen.

“No, I haven’t seen her all day.” Sam said. “Have you noticed.. she seems a little quiet lately. I also noticed she’s been having more nightmares lately.”

“I noticed that too, I can hear her scream out sometimes. I mean we all get nightmares, but these seem bad. Have you not talked to her about it at all?” Dean questioned.

“No, I thought you would’ve mentioned it.” Sam said.

“Dude, she’s obviously going through something and neither of us have checked up on her? Way to go.” Dean scoffed as he headed in the direction of your room.

—————————

You were laying on your bed, staring at the wall thinking of all the ways you have messed up lately. The last hunt you were out on, you made a mistake that almost got Sammy killed. Now, you opt to stay back and reference the lore. You replayed every mistake over and over in your head. Suddenly a knock interrupts your ‘greatest hits’.

You clear your throat, “um, who is it?” you ask.

“It’s Dean, can i come in.”

You look around to the mess of your room, random items taking up space on your bed with you. Suddenly, you become embarrassed and ashamed. “I- uh, do you need something?” You shout to the man on the other side of the door.

“I haven’t seen you all day, I just wanted to check up on you. Are you feeling okay?” Dean asks with concern.

*coughing loudly* “No I think I’ve come down with something, you should stay away.” You say, trying to sound sickly.

“Oh, ok. I can bring you some soup if you like” Dean asks, knowing you’re lying but trying to get through to you.

“I’m not hungry, thanks though” You say, pushing any kind of help away. You didn’t understand why you do this. You want help but then it comes and you resist at all costs. Maybe because this mess you’re feeling is comfortable, familiar. You’ve always been messed up, but now it’s just manifesting on the outside. When it was bottled up, it was easy to hide from everyone, but this is much harder and every lie you tell drains you more and more.

“You need to eat” Dean contested.

“I said no, now can you please go” The words felt like knives being thrown at the closed door. You didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but Deans pushing set off a nerve. Immediately you felt bad, but knew you couldn’t look at his face so you sat still in your bed as you heard hushed footsteps fade away. Feeling hot tears burn in your eyes, you walked over to your bathroom, and grabbed your razor. Anger towards yourself coursed through your veins, into your hands, as you unleashed hell onto your body. Saying to yourself, “You deserve this for being mean to Dean, he was just trying to be nice. He doesn’t deserve that. What’s wrong with you, etc.”

When you’re satisfied, your hips are stained red. You clean up and go back to laying in your bed, as you cry yourself to sleep.

——————-

That evening

“I don’t know Sammy, I think there’s something really wrong. Earlier- the way she spoke to me. It wasn’t her. I need to talk to her, to see her face, but she keeps pushing me away. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried… I’m worried it’s worse than just nightmares.” Dean confides to his brother.

“Yeah, I’m worried too. Maybe we can set up a movie night in the Dean cave and coax her out of her room. I think having some quality time, not worried about monsters could help.” Sam suggested.

“Okay, yeah. You run to the store and get some supplies and I’ll break out blankets and pillows. Meet back here in 30.” Dean says hopeful. He hated knowing that you were upset, but he wanted this to help so badly. He worked hard at getting his Dean cave set up perfectly. He even made a blanket fort. Once Sam and Dean finished setting everything up, the came to knock on your door.

You had just woken up from your restless nap. Unfortunately, the day wasn’t even over so you were back to laying in misery. You heard another knock on your door.

“Hey uh, we need your help in the Dean cave” Dean said from behind the door, you could almost hear the smile in his voice even though you couldn’t see him. While most other times you would decline, your curiosity got the best of you.

“Uhh okay, let me use the bathroom and I’ll be right there.” You said, getting up from your bed, ignoring the terrible headache. It stemmed from a combination of lack of food, water, good sleep, and crying so much. You looked in the mirror, repulsed by the face staring back at you, so you got to work making yourself as presentable as possible. After a much need brush through your hair (and teeth), a change of clothes, and some light makeup, you felt okay enough to make your public appearance. You left your bedroom, quickly shutting the door behind you to hide the mess, and headed towards the Dean cave.

When Dean and Sam laid their eyes on you for the first time in days, their mouths dropped. You looked awful. Bags under your eyes and barely skin and bone. You were always skinny, but this- this was bad. Both of the brothers concern immediately sky rocketed, but being as smart as they are, they knew to play it off. They knew if they outright said anything, you’d get defensive and shut down. So they quickly glanced at each other and greeted you like any other day. You were too busy looking at the scene in front of you to notice the boys faces.

“What- what is all this” you say surveying the room in awe.

“We thought you could use a little pick me up movie night.” Sam said with a soft smile on his face. Dean turned away from you to face the tv. It was too hard to look at you. He blamed himself for not checking on you sooner. For not immediately knowing there was something deeper going on. The cases had distracted him from the problem right under his nose and he was so angry at himself. You instantly noticed the change in his demeanor, making you uneasy. You thought he was still mad at you for the way you spoke to him earlier in the day. You made a mental note to apologize later. Sam opened up the blanket to let you sit beside him and so you did. In front of you, there was a whole display of food. Burgers, fries, popcorn, candy, you name it. The sight instantly made you nauseous.

You thought that you didn’t deserve food. Your mind = your greatest enemy. You pretended not to notice the food and encouraged them to start the movie. It was Alice In Wonderland- your favorite childhood movie you let slip one night with Dean after a beer too many. You glance across Sam to Dean who is staring at the TV but not actually watching. Sam nudges some fries in your direction, to which you shake your head.

“No thanks” you whisper over the beginning scene of the movie.

“Cmon Y/N, you haven’t eaten all day.” Sam said.

“Oh no, I had some granola bars in my room. I’ve been snacking on those-“ You lied.

“No you haven’t” Dean said finally speaking to you.

“What-“ you say looking at him confused, trying to play this off quickly.

“I’m not sure you’ve eaten anything in days” Dean starts.

“Dean-“ Sam interjects, trying to keep his brother from pushing you away.

“No, Sammy. She’s sick. Look at her.” Dean states.

Immediately, tears well up in your eyes. You knew you didn’t look your best but hearing Dean say that. It was too much. You wanted to head straight to your room to cut again, but Dean wasn’t finished talking.

“Y/N, I can’t walk on eggshells about this- you look terrible. What is going on?” Dean says in a much softer tone than before, his anger fading into worry.

“Nothings… going on.” you say.

“That’s not true and we all know it, can you just talk to us?” Sam asks.

Suddenly, that defense mechanism hits you strong and you attack the boys you love more than anything. You can’t help it. “I SAID I’M FINE. WOULD YOU BOTH JUST LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO BACK TO WORRYING ABOUT MONSTERS OR WHATEVER” you shout, exiting the room and heading straight for your bedroom.

You close the door behind you, still crying. The scene that just played out was one of your worst nightmares and partially why you have started staying locked in your room. You beeline for the bathroom to pick up the razor for a second time that day. You roll down your pants to the hidden canvas. Right before you can move, Dean bursts through your door.

You both freeze. Time stops for a couple seconds. Every mirage and illusion you’ve built over the past few months is shattered. The ugly, dirty truth is exposed. Your walls crumble to the ground. You refuse to lift your eyes from the ground as he approaches you. He takes the razor from your hands without saying a word and throws it to the other side of the bathroom and grabs you into his arms. You both crash to the floor, as you sob into chest. Dean hold you patiently while you let it all out. Everything you’ve been holding inside. There are a million thoughts going through Dean’s head, questions he has, but his main objective is just to be there for you. You needed him, and he wasn’t there. All the warning signs, ignored. He secretly blamed himself for letting it get this bad.

You both sit in the floor of your bathroom for a while. Your sobs slowly turned into quiet hiccups for air. You nervously lifted off of his chest, anxiously awaiting the conversation to follow the events that have just transpired. You finally make eye contact with Dean, his eyes are glassy and red.

“I’m sorry Y/N” Dean said barely above a whisper dragging his hand over your hair to brush it out of your tear soaked face.

You open and close your mouth, not expecting his response. “What are you sorry for?” you ask confused.

“I- I wasn’t there for you. I mean I knew something was off, but- but this. This is all my fault.” Dean says moving his hand to hold your cheek, a singular tear falling down his right cheek.

“No, no this isn’t your fault at all. I- I don’t know what to say.” You say, feeling the weight of the situation.

“You don’t have to say anything. We are going to get you some help. You’re not alone in this. You have Sam. You have me. This- this work is hard and I know you’ve had it rough, but you can and will get through this.” Dean says, as more tears begin to fall from your eyes, though you thought you couldn’t cry anymore.

“I need you to get better. I need my Y/N. Can you do that for me?” Dean asks, gently stroking your cheek and wiping the tears as they fall. You nod.

That night, the three of you work on tidying up your room. Dean filled Sam in privately and he wanted to help you in anyway he could. You guys went back to the Dean cave after your room was clean, and ate dinner. Dean even drank water with you instead of his normal beer so you would be more inclined to drink it.

Finally, it was time for bed. Dean walked to your room with you. “I wish you would’ve told me what has been going on with you, but I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t” Dean said.

“You didn’t- I just didn’t want you to worry about me when you’ve got a whole world and billions of people to worry about.” You say in response.

“I will always worry about you first. I care about you Y/N. I am here for you no matter what.” Dean says firmly, pulling you in for a hug. His chin rests on your head as you two stand in an embrace mid hallway.

“Dean, could you maybe- um stay with me tonight?” You ask.

“Of course”

Dean grabs your hand and pulls you towards your bed. He strips down to his boxers and climbs in, holding a spot next to him for you. You curl up next to him, feeling the heat radiate off his body, comforting you. “Thank you” you whisper as you quickly drift off into a much needed, nightmare free, deep sleep. Dean leans over to kiss your head as he whispers, “I love you Y/N”.

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (42)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none

A/N NOT BETA. I am back to writing! I am crying. You have no idea how terrible this past two weeks was for me. I felt so out of place not writing but for some reason I couldn't find it in me to get back to it. I had lost literally all passion for it. So much happened that really didn't put me in the right state of mind. But I got back to it and found my passion again! So here is the long awaited Hobi chapter! I'm so excited to hear your thoughts on this one.

Hoseok lived in the same region your grandparents had. It was nice to take in the beautiful sights you were so familiar with. However, watching as creatures and different kinds of magical beasts mingle about. The flora and fauna were much different to your own home–it seemed like everything flourished a lot more. 

Taehyung had told you about how witches and faeries lived out in nature because it made them feel connected. As you held onto his hand, you smiled softly as his fingers weaved between the bushes and trees that covered the path they were taking. Your eyes widened as the foliage seemed to bloom and follow along with his hands. 

“Hoseok!” Someone shouted, moving along the path as they came upon a large cottage. 

You smiled to yourself, finally seeing the kind of house you had assumed this world would have. However, it was still large. You were sure the inside looked spectacular. 

You let go of Hoseok’s hand, allowing him to embrace his mother and another woman who was crying. 

“Oh, my baby boy!” His mother smiled, looking over his shoulder to find you. “This must be your mate.” She exclaimed walking over to you to give you a hug. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

She turned around to her son, smiling as he was being bullied by the other woman. She had him in a chokehold, laughing when he tried to pull at her with the grass that was growing exponentially. 

“I came home when mom called to tell us that you finally came back.” She smiled, patting Hoseok on the back. 

“All thanks to (Y/N).” Hobi smiled, reaching out for your hand. 

“We owe you so much.” Hoseok’s mother smiled softly, dropping her hand onto your shoulder. 

“It was nothing.” You smiled bashfully. 

“Nonsense!” Hoseok’s sister exclaimed. “Please, allow me to give you something in return.” She reached out to hold your hands. “Not only did you bring my brother back but you also brought his coven home. I'm sure their families would give you something as well.” She told you softly. 

“I don't know—” You tried to tell her it was alright but she just gave you a smile. 

“Let me give you a reading.” She stopped you.

“A reading?” Your eyebrows furrowed, looking over at Hobi. 

“Jiwoo is a master at reading people.” He explained. “Witches clairsenses are a lot stronger than anyone else. We can predict futures, see the dead, see what haunts you. It's part of our abilities.” He told you. 

You grew interested, being reminded about how Taehyung had explained his abilities to you. He did tell you that you could find out what Hobi was capable of if you asked him. You assumed readings were part of the things witches could do that faeries couldn’t. 

“Taehyung can't do that then?” You questioned. 

“No.” Hobi answered. “Telepathy and mental manipulation is our thing. He can't do any of that.”

“Fairies have energy manipulation which is a very powerful thing.” Jiwoo told you. “However we have healing and can control the elements.”

You looked down to the grass, seeing that it had gone back to normal now that the siblings weren’t play fighting. You also remembered how the leaves and the trees followed after Hobi’s fingers as he passed them. You wondered what it was like to watch him play with fire or water. 

“That's so cool.” You breathed out. 

“Come.” Jiwoo quickly brought you into their home, the decor modernized as you guessed. “Sit!” She pushed you to sit at the dining table, moving a chair in front of you and taking your hands. “I already saw a lot the moment you walked in.”

You could feel something tingle at your fingertips, making you tilt your head. You suddenly felt something hovering over your shoulder. Hobi and his mother were standing behind Jiwoo, watching with curiosity. You wanted to turn your head and see what it was but Jiwoo stopped you before you could. 

“Oh.” You watched as Jiwoo’s eyebrows rose, making you glance up at Hobi. 

“I think the first thing I should say—you have a past with our world.” Jiwoo turned up to you. “Don't you?” She asked. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, thinking about your grandfather. “Apparently I do.”

Jiwoo nodded her head, smiling over your shoulder. “You have a protector too. They've been there since you were a little girl. Butterflies are what I see around you.” She explained, running her fingers along your palms just to get a sense of your energy. 

“Nabi.” Hobi spoke up. “It was a name you kept saying but didn't know where it came from.” 

“They're someone very important in your story. Both the past and this one.” Jiwoo nodded to herself, pausing as though she was listening to someone. “I'm positive they were the ones who led you to my brother and his coven.”

“You really think that?” You asked, eyes wide. 

“Of course.” Jiwoo hummed. 

You flinched just for a moment, hearing a childish giggle from behind you. Hobi and his family must have heard because they all looked over you, smiling softly. You turned around, frowning when you couldn’t find anything. It was clear that the Jung family could see things that you were not. 

“Now something I find extremely fascinating is the number 5.” You quickly furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what that would mean. 

“It keeps turning up–four and then two. They are different animals–different creatures.” This only served to make you more confused. If it was about the boys there was seven of them, not five. It made you worry, thinking something was going to happen. 

“I can't really tell what they are going to be but I know they have to do with the boys.” Jiwoo turned around, quickly pulling her brother to the table. “Hobi, come here.” She told him, making him place his hand over your own. 

“Ah!” Jiwoo gasped out, hands flying away from the two of you as though she had been burned. “I found it! Babies!” She jumped up, her face having elation as she turned to her mother.

“Babies?” You asked, still confused. You looked up at Hobi, watching as he seemed to have a frown on his face and looked beyond confused. 

Hobi was nowhere near as powerful when it came to his clairsense like his sister was. The most he knew was his mental abilities so watching how his sister made him take your hand brought things out of him. He saw the animals that seemed to scurry around. They were small things, indicating something childish and small. It was clear that Jiwoo knew exactly what they all meant by her screeching. 

“Eomma!” Jiwoo shouted. “Five grandbabies!”

“Five?” You whispered, wide eyed.

“Grandbabies?” Hoseok repeated. 

Hobi’s mother and sister took a moment to gush and talk about it–claiming that Hobi was going to be one of the babies' fathers. However you just kind of sat there with a wide eyed expression trying to go through the motions. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want children, it had more to do with the question Taehyung had asked you when you had visited his family. If you were to have their kids did that mean you were going to stay with them? Was that your answer without you even reaching it on your own?

Later that night, Hobi had taken you to his room–showing off everything he could. You smiled softly when he showed you his elemental manipulation. He created ice sculptures for you, made the wind blow through your hair, and had a flicker of fire crackling at his palms. It served to entertain you for a while, keeping your mind off what had happened with his mother. 

But after she came to bid you both a goodnight, you were left awestruck once more at the happy expression the woman had on her face. You couldn’t know how she must have felt–spending ten years without her son only to come back and hear that he had finally found his forever and was going to make a family of his own. 

It must have been something that one would think hard on–especially because the one who was meant to be the mate to seven men was human and not from their world. 

“Five children.” You brought up, laying on Hobi’s chest. “Oh god.” You chuckled quietly. 

“Wow, wow, wow.” Hoseok sat up, bringing you along with him so he could look at you properly. “You're okay. You're fine.” He tried to tell you. “Let's not think about it at the moment, yeah?” He said softly. 

“How can I not?” You sighed. “Jiwoo told yoru mom it was going to be her grandchildren.” You smiled lightly, memorizing Hobi’s face. “Does that mean I'm going to have a family with you?” You whispered to him.

“Not everything is set in stone.” Hobi’s shoulders dropped thinking it wasn’t something you wanted. “You can always change your future.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, pulling a hand up to his cheek. “What if I don't want to?” You whispered.

His eyes went wide, looking at you incredulously. “You want—to start a family with me? With us?” He gasped, lip trembling as he thought about it. 

“I don't think we're there yet but, staying with you all has been on my mind.” You laughed lightly.

“Who told you?” Hobi pouted, knowing it had been one of the boys who brought it up to you. 

“Taehyung.” You giggled. 

“Such a boy.” He rolled his eyes. 

Taking a glance over your face, he smiled softly, moving to rub a thumb across your cheek. “Hey, I love you with everything in me. You have done so much for all of us that it's hard not to love you.” 

“But we want you to know that even if we do love you, it's not our choice to make.” He added softly.

“I love you, Hoseok. I love you all so much I don't think I'd want to be away from you.” You leaned forward, breathing against his lips. 

“We have to save everyone first. And then we can talk about our coven.” Hoseok told you. 

He leaned down capturing your lips in a kiss. 

And so you smiled at him, knowing exactly what you wanted to do now that you had heard it from them all. You weren’t going to leave them. It would hurt too much. So you knew that deep down this was your story alongside them.

Series Masterlist

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg , @singukieee ,  @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @juju-2275922 , @alienchickenpoop , @dreamerwasfound , @afangirl91 , @psiphidragon , @puppyminnnie , @shyloh-the-cornsnake , @ollyoxenfrees , @whynotlarene , @beeltsumu , @cryingpages , @milopenne , @belikejk , @thatonedemigodfromseoul , @woozixo,

[fairytsuk1]

Could you write something how alexis would deal with a needy gf? He seems so busy and all that he wouldnt have time for a gf and then theyd argue but make up afterwards ofc

alex with a needy gf

honestly yall you cannot show your neediness before the relationship or he's running for the hills LIKEE i'm sorry but he def does need someone mildly independent in order for him to feel safe to enter a loving space

once you're together, though? well he's literally locked in. he'd definitely feel so bad being with you and having to manage the server, his channels, and everything else. coming out to see you fast asleep on the couch makes his heart hurt. is it really worth the eyebags and sudden colds? to leave you on the couch as the sun sets back on the earth? suddenly, work didn't seem all too important.

he really starts putting in hard work once he realizes he can't have his cake and eat it too. it's thrilling! finally, his shoulders aren't clenched up to his ears and he has less headaches. you do all the things he needs.

you crawl into his lap like you belong there, and you do. he swears he could almost hear you purr as you nuzzled into his neck, "hey there, what's up?"

"just missed you," you mumble lazily, "i wanna stay in here while you work."

"babe..." he'll get distracted, you'll distract him, but your frustrated huff makes him think twice, "well..."

you're completely content to relax into your beanbag chair, slotted right next to his desk so you can lean against his calf and whine for his attention.

there's other times though where the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. alex wasn't an angry person. he never so much as yelled at you, but when he was stressed like this? you could tell it was eating him alive, and you knew that every rejection from his end was only the result of stress.

you weren't the one to take that, though. demanding he speak to you, scoffing when he rejects you, and finally you break by shouting at him, "i wish you would act like my boyfriend sometimes!"

alex's heart skips a beat in the worst way. he can see every rejection clear as day. when he declined to have lunch with you that day because he'd been too busy. when he'd said, "i really don't have time for this!"

you stand there, pathetically wiping stray tears of frustration off your cheeks while holding yourself defensively. he doesn't make a move towards you, fearing the dreaded step back you might take.

"i-i'm sorry," and you're still silent, "mi amor, i'm really so sorry."

you don't reply. sniffling and barely glancing at him. you don't step back when he approaches you, when he wraps his arms around you and he feels how tired he is. and how he feels better just hugging you.

"i know i haven't been paying you much attention," he whispers, and there's something in his voice that sounds watery, "i'm too stressed, but i can't take it out on you. my love, i am sorry."

"you're so stupid, alex! god, making me cry and everything..."

you wail into the cotton of his sweater, but he can hear the forgiveness laden through your words. he can hear every wonderful thing. your sweet breaths, the beating of your heart, the loving embrace of your arms. you care so much for him, and he cares for you.

"i love you so much, i really am so sorry," he says.

"i know."

"let me make it up for you, please?"

the tenseness washes away. the next morning, you're delighted to feel alex sleeping behind you, spending a few extra minutes snoring away into the pillow. the lull of sleep and warmth of your body lets him dream the sweetest of dreams.

[taeminsung]

one last song..

pairing: chan x reader

summary: in this episode of chan’s room, he did the one thing he never thought he would do for himself.

mina’s notes: listening to one of my favorite songs and just thought this would be very chan. please enjoy ♡

The empty hotel room was filled with a deafening silence that it almost felt alive. Some small part of Chan wished that he would have told any of the members about his little plan, but a different part of him knew that if he had, he most likely would have chickened out of doing it. Hearing his own heartbeat in his head, he considered the options if he just went to bed and gave up on everything, what would everyone think of him? There was a slight shake to his hands as he continues to get everything set up for his weekly Chan’s room, hoping that one special person would tune in like they always did. It was the routine every Sunday and it never mattered what you were doing but you always dropped everything you made sure to turn on the live stream. Today was the first time he ever hesitated before turning on the love, knowing that by the end of the night, he was either going to have his heart broken or mend what he broke in the first plan. Closing his eyes, he took a final deep breath before hitting the button to go live.

Feeling more nervous than usual, his eyes stayed glued to the chat trying to reply to comments as they came in. He was happy to have different questions flooding in about the tours, members, and anything else that allowed him to push off his plan. It wasn’t a difficult plan really, just one he didn’t know how to move forward with. The day before during sound check, he planned it all. A few easy steps he thought at the time. Go live, as he always did, fully admit to having a special someone, play an unreleased song, then deal with the repercussions of his actions. Honestly, he knew that the last step should be the one that he was the most unsure about, but step one of the plans scared him to no end. Chan know that he would have to deal with the company likely giving him a lashing for showing a song that wasn’t done, but he didn’t know what your reaction would be.

Just weeks earlier, you two had been cuddled on his couch in the dorm, listening to some of the new 3Racha songs, deciding which one they would use for an upcoming opportunity. Before Chan really understood what was going on, you both were on opposite sides of the couch yelling at each other, with Changbin trying to calm the situation down to the best of his ability. Jisung was curled under the blanket pulling at your arm to get you to sit down and take a breath before anything else was said. The memory was potty for Chan, but he remembered you screaming that you never felt like a priority and that you felt like you always had to beg for his attention before slamming the door to their dorm as you left. The silence that had filled the dorm until Hyunjin came home, rivaled that from earlier and he hated how that was your last interaction for weeks because work again took him away from you.

Slowly coming back to reality, he realized that he had been utterly silent, lost in the memory of that night and when he dared to look at the chat, everyone was asking if he was alright or why he just went silent for so long. I’m not really sure if I’m ok, he started with an uneven sign, I messed something up in my personal life and I don’t know if I can really fix it. Glancing down at his phone, he had a message from Felix to let him in the room so he could hang out. One second everyone, we will have a special guest tonight, Chan stated before going to open the door. When he opened the door, he didn’t expect to be greeted with six other people standing behind Felix. Quickly they all squeezed by him and into the room, shouting their hellos to the live but mostly staying out of view as they made themselves comfortable on various surfaces. Signing, Chan returned to his original spot in front of the camera as he explained that the surprise guest was actually all of his members, and he wouldn’t pressure them to be on camera if they didn’t want to.

A comfortable silence filled the room this time as he continued to read the chats that came through. Oh, I did start to talk about something before they came in, he hummed looking around at each of his members, watching as all of them gave him supportive gestures for him to continue his story. When his eyes fell on Changbin, he slightly tilted his head in confusion as to what was going on. We wanted to support whatever crazy plan you came up with, it’s all of us together, Changbin said before going back to whatever it was that he was going on his phone. Time continued to pass and the tightness in Chan’s chest started to gnaw at him as he quickly read the chats. Taking another deep breath and final glance at everyone in his room, he decided that it was now or never. The short crazy three step plan that he had come up with was finally going to be set into action.

Alright, I have something I need to confess, Chan stated before closing his eyes and remembering your tear stained face that night as he continued, there is a special someone in my life, well I hope they are still in my life, not that anything bad happened to them, but I ah, pausing his rambles, he watched as Jisung sat next to him, placing his hand on his shoulder waiting for him to continue. I really messed up with this someone and I just want to apologize to them for keeping them in the dark so long when I should have been showing you off to the world. Tears pricked at his waterline as his fingers played on his phone finding the file that he was so scared to play to the world. The nights he wouldn’t sleep since that fight were spent creating something for you, in the hopes that you would understand and take him back. So, I, uh, created a song that I wanted to share with you, please let me know your thoughts, he concluded knowing that the last part was directed at you and only you.

The soft beat of the song started to play as so many eyes watched him sink back into the couch. Chan’s voice again filled the room as he covered his face embarrassed that he was playing the song he wrote for you, for the entire world to hear.

Right here right now, you are on my mind, and I think about you all the time.

As the words continued to be heard by everyone, Chan couldn’t help but to think back to the good times that you shared. When he first met you at the music store, he didn’t expect to leave with your number and a blush spread across his face. Truly, he felt bad for his members at the time because he couldn’t stop himself from talking about you for weeks after that encounter, scared to message you first in case you were just being polite when he asked for your number.

I’m sending a message to you, and I’m hoping that it will get through.

The last nights that you two would steal away from the world, whether you were sneaking into JYP to hang out with him while he worked on new songs, or when you’d both meet somewhere to enjoy a meal before wandering the city. For Chan, it never really mattered what the two of you ended up doing when you were together, as long as you were just together to begin with. He enjoyed the quiet moments with you when you were busy working on your stuff, and he could just be in the same space as you. It brought a calm to his life that he didn’t realize he was missing until you, even now, that calm was crumbling without you just there.

I miss having you by my side.

Maybe it was the comfort he developed in your presence but having you by his side gave him the strength to work long hours, to create more songs than he knew what to do with, to be the strong pillar that he knew his members needed from him when things got tough. While his members depended on him for a lot, he in turn depended on you to be his lighthouse in the dark days. Never once would did he put the pressure on you by telling you it all, instead he just let the moments of his head resting in your lap while you played with his hair wash away the bad that he didn’t want to deal with.

In case you hear this, then know you’re the love of my life.

Months after meeting you, he realized it so quickly. For him, there wasn’t going to be anyone else, you were his end. You, the person who made him want to be a better person. You, the one who made him smile and laugh no matter what was going on outside the walls of his room. You, the love of his life, who had endless patience for him in all things. Which only made him understand, far too late, that you blowing up on him that night meant that it was something you had wanted to share with him for a long time, or had been sharing and he just never noticed it in the way you needed him to. You, the light that he would do anything to have back in his life.

Maybe you’re listening, so here’s one last song for you.

In truth, this wasn’t going to be the official last song for you, but only the last sad song. The next song he wrote for you was going to be one that was filled with so much love and adoration that he knew he would never get anyone to sing on. He felt like a small weight was lifted off his chest as the final sounds of the melody finished and allowed silence to find its way back into the room. Peaking between his fingers he watched the chat scroll at such a speed that he couldn’t ever begin to read any of the messages there. Stealing another glance around the room, he noted the way that none of the members could look at him and swore he could have heard a few low sniffles. His heart squeezed in his chest before thinking it was best to throw in the towel and end the live, knowing that he was half the world away and you might not have had time to tune in this week. Knowing that it would be trending, and your friends would show you, he shook his head in defeat. His thoughts drifted back to the drawings board for how to make a grand gesture for you.

The incredibly quiet ping of a message sent his heart into overdrive as he saw your name light up his screen. It was short, I love you, Channie. Please continue to do the live and we can talk when you get home in a few days. In the few words that you had sent, a piece of his heart felt like it was healed instantly. Chan also knew that you didn’t love to have serious talks over the phone because expressions were such a big part of the both of you and missing those could lead to even more miscommunications. Feeling like he was himself again, he went back to reading the chats with a new found giddiness that only caused the other members to finally join in on the live, giving him even more strength to finish out the next few days knowing that he got to go home to you.

˚⁎⁺˳ ── thank you for reading! ♡

[2kmps]

SMITTEN

dammon x reader | 2.5k

story summary; all it took was an argument with your party leader and an incident of misfortune for dammon to realize he was smitten with you.

story warnings; huge spoilers for act 1 & 2 of baldur's gate 3, mentions of burns and cuts, implication of dammon and mc drinking before a smooch, mc is not tav, no pronouns or descriptions used. very briefly proofread.

if you'd like a part two, please interact & reblog! ❤️

No one knew the time of day as black, tense air splintered those in fitful slumber into wakefulness that made their hearts hammer and bodies cold. There were shouts coming from outside the Last Light Inn, an unwelcome disturbance in these awful, glum days encompassed by death, shadow, and cries of beasts beyond Isobel’s barrier.

Dammon had been one of the first inquisitive souls on scene, already hammering away in his makeshift forge at some hour, surrounded by glowing iron, hot coals, and the smell of ox shit lingering over his workspace like a smoky cloud embedding its malodor into any pororous surface. As long as he stayed busy, deafened himself to all but the sting of metal, vibrations from his hammer memorized deep into his marrow, gave himself to the roar of the furnace—he didn't mind anything else, didn't think about his exhaustion, nor the fear that coiled his spine at every uncertainty around him.

But, he recognized your voice above the fierceness of his fire—knew the one retaliating your indignance just the same. He was drawn to it, leaving his tools by the anvil to step out towards the dilapidated stonework at the center of this improvised settlement, an old water fountain that once was beautiful artistry before the Shadow-Curse.

“I will not be cast aside! I will not be abandoned here to die, Dreston!” you were borderline hysterical, arms strewn about you wildly as you shouted. It was clear no one in your company wanted to feel the venom spitting from your throat. “I survived the crèche—I was integral to us all making it out alive! My abilities to heal are unparalleled, how can you just—”

“They need someone here,” said the tall drow at the core of your ire, leader of your motley crew. “Isobel needs to focus on the barrier. Someone needs to be able to heal the wounded.”

“They have a druid! They don't need me!” you tried again, rage weakening as your voice cracked and eyes gained a watery luster that you blinked back. “I've already done so much for the group. Do you think I'm useless on the battlefield? Is it because I'm not a druid like Halsin? A cleric like Shadowheart? Karlach, speak for me!”

You could've looked through Dreston at that moment and Karlach would've felt the desperation of your stare. She looked towards the ground, pushing stones with her boots. It was so drastically different from how she had been helping you with adjustments to your new armor just hours ago, laying hands everywhere now that she could thanks to Dammon

None of the others spoke for you, either. It was admission of guilt, silent consensus that you were to stay behind here and die if the barrier fell. You couldn't believe it.

“We’ll seek your aid again once we're en route to Baldur’s Gate,” Dreston said, his finality and firmness making words stick in your throat, jaws so tight your teeth could shatter. “Not a moment before. If you leave the barrier, what befalls you is of your own consequence. Protect these people here and wait for us.”

You spat at his feet, wiped your mouth, and then your tears before stalking off until you were far out of sight and alone.

Dammon stayed for the exchange and watched you go, a heart wrenching sight in his mind to be robbed of the love and passion you lived for. Adventuring and healing for you; the smithy and embers for him. Still, he never remembered you with such a temper, at least not one so outward, but these cursed lands had a way of bringing out the worst in everyone.

He had seen it many times over already—in others, in himself as well. Emerald Grove had been a perilous time just as this, but with the light of sunrise and sunset swathing him in some sort of feign comfort. This was not the same, there was no ease except what he knew with flame and steel and heavy hammer.

Still, back then, when he had met you the first time when acquiesced to eradicate the goblin hoards, you were different—brighter, skin aglow beautifully, eyes so radiant and divine. He remembered finding his gaze shifting to you more times than not, catching a jagged end of Dreston’s annoyance when he needed to repeat himself once or twice.

Dammon found it hard to focus in those days until your departure for the goblin camp, and that relief once you were gone had followed until now with your reappearance here at the Last Light Inn.

Now, he had to ask himself why he was standing before Dreston with an approachable smile, hoping he didn't fall on the receiving end of his bad spirits, and spoke his fate aloud:

“Don't worry, I'll keep a watchful eye out.”

He had assigned himself as your custodian like it was nothing, like you actually needed one in the first place. Dreston never mentioned it to you, probably for the best because your foul mood sat on your heels for many days thereafter. It took nearly a week to rouse you out of that state well enough to even visit him at his forge again.

“How are you holding up, Dammon?” you had asked with surprising calm, a similar sort of placidity you had when you'd first met. “It can't be easy being in this place. I keep looking at the barrier, expecting something to happen.”

“I can tell, you look tense”—he dunked red, searing iron into a vat of water and walked away as steam rose and hissed while it cooled—”Given the circumstances, I can't say I'm any worse than anyone else. If I worry, I hammer; if I can't sleep, I hammer. That's enough for me.”

You shared a smile with him, eyes wavering from his piercing blue to the arsenal of newly forged weapons he had managed to craft in a single night. He hadn't slept at all, but hadn't felt it until this moment.

“Don't forget to rest or you'll be one of the unfortunates lying unconscious on a bed that I have to take care of.” You said with a certain playfulness, a certain amount of snide and seriousness that he wasn't sure how to respond to. However, you gave a large logbook in your arm a pat. “I keep a record of everyone I've ever cared for—methods and medicine administered. Everything. I'd like to not add you to it.”

Dammon was a new entry in your logs a few weeks later, as it turned out. Misfortune seemed to torture everyone here beneath Isobel’s barrier, and he was not immune despite believing, foolishly, that losing himself to his projects would save him forever.

“Tell me what happened,” you already had an inked quill readied, a crisp, empty page dedicated to him. “The sooner you do, the sooner I can patch you up.”

For once, the makeshift infirmary sat barren besides the pair of you. It had originally been the bedchambers for weary travelers once upon a time, modified into a strategy room for Counsellor Florrick, and then finally commandeered as an infirmary by you and Isobel to bring some temporary sense of normalcy.

Jaheira let you have that small victory.

“Well,” Dammon wasn't sure what all to tell you that was necessary. It had all been an accident—a ridiculous oversight on his part, a disrespect to his craft and the fires of his forge. “You see—I, well, it's been a few days since I've slept. It's been difficult with those ravens constantly taking blows to the barrier. So, I've spent my time hammering away. Gets my mind off of things, off of everything.”

All went silent but the scrawl of your quill upon yellow parchment, faithfully recording his words verbatim. He waited for the feather to fall flat against your hands and eyes to rise to his before continuing:

“Honestly, it was just a freakish thing—a raven struck the barrier, startled that strange ox they have in the stable and I… my hammer missed and the sword I was working on came back on me. I had just taken out of the fire. Infernal blood I may have, I'm not immune to burns and cuts from my own craft it seems.”

Dammon tried to lighten the severity of his embarrassment with a laugh, hoping it would make that harsh crease between your brows smooth out. Seeing you worry over him did not fill him with a buzz of delight, but feeling your cold hands rest over his injured one did.

“Luckily it isn't too bad. Tiefling reflexes are impossibly good.” You sounded impressed, careful as you drew his hand closer, turning it whatever which way you pleased and he allowed it. He wasn't fond of the cold, but found himself reveling the magic that gushed out from your palms and soothed the burnt flesh on the back of his hand. “It'll be an easy enough fix, but, Dammon, you'll have to stay here and rest. You're not to return to your forge until you do. Understood?”

Perhaps, at a different time, such a demand would be reprimanded. To take a blacksmith from his forge is to take a healer from their potions and herbs—it would've at least aroused some frustration, but now, as he there on the edge of a worn mattress with your frigid hands caressing his scorched skin, wrapped in soft white light that reminded him of the long lost sun, he didn't refuse you and didn't think he ever could.

“Amazing,” he breathed out once he was awash in relief from his agony. The blistered, lacerated flesh from his own creation had closed and disappeared. Only the memory remained now, and the sensation of one of your hands hovering over his open palm. “You're no cleric or druid yet you can utilize magic like that. I've never seen the like.”

“Hopefully you never will again,” came your response, this time with much lightness and satisfaction. “How does it feel? Is there any pain remaining? I treat certain wounds traditionally with herbs and potions, but I know burns are in a league all their own.”

Dammon met the space of your palm facing his, fingers closing around you until the ridges of his well-earned calluses pressed warmth into your skin. Yours had a roughness about them as well without the same sinew and narrow bones and nails as him. There was a new sensation that struck him at that moment, like a jogged memory, a renewal of something once forgotten.

This simple touch reminded him of how much he had forced it away since Elturel was swallowed into Avernus—how much of his being now belonged to survival, and whatever was left was spent flattening iron with a hammer so his mind didn't escape him.

“I feel right, thanks to you.” Dammon said in soft, vulnerable tones that made flounder for words and withdraw your hand in a single, sharp motion.

You cleared your throat once and then twice more, closing your sizable book of records and rose from your chair. “Good! Good! I'll—I’m glad to hear it. I'll just step out so you can rest. Sleep well, Dammon.”

He did not rest for a long time because his thoughts were full of you, and that's where they stayed everyday afterward while he worked in the heat of his forge. It became easier to bear the ominous darkness that swirled around the barrier, a mere splinter in concentration away from consuming him and everyone else within.

Your company was a beacon of light to him in these terrible days, something he looked forward to after however many indeterminate hours clanging away on his anvil. He occupied a space next to you at the bar most times, some old beer in a mug that had lost its froth, listening to the dwarves among the settlement drunkenly, vivaciously explain their grand exploits while Alfira made up new lyrics to the strum of her lute.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked this a few times a day, a midday, an evening, a night, because there wasn't much else to do or to ask. But, right now, he was feeling bored and courageous with a pint in him, “Would you like to take a walk? I don't think the dwarves are telling stories we haven't already heard once every night the last tenday.”

You didn't disagree and went with him to make laps along the barrier. There was nothing new about this, either. You could walk the perimeter of the settlement with a blindfold on at this point and never snag a stone, stumble, or catch a briar on your sleeve. Dammon always stayed in stride with you despite his height, always kept himself at a decent distance from you despite how much he wished otherwise.

“What will you do once we get to Baldur’s Gate, Dammon? Hm?” It was a familiar question, one usually forgotten after a glass or two of wine in you. “I’m thinking of telling Dreston to piss off and working as an apothecary. Get some stability in my life, y'know?”

“It’d be good work for you.” He understood that desire for something solid, a safe life. “I’ve realized through all of this that I'm not the adventuring sort. I like my hammer. I like my forge; I like a bed at the end of a long day. I like—”

Dammon was quick with a glance down at you while walking, arms close and brushing. His heart was a growing drumbeat in his ears. “I like the idea of coming home to someone, to share my bed with. After all this, that sounds like a luxury—a dream.”

“Oh~” you put a hand near your lips, pretending to hide a scandalous smile. “So you are the marrying type. A couple of us were talking about that the other day, gossiping about who’d end up married or die alone in a bottle.”

Dammon let a smile grow, fingers edging nearer to your own until he could curl one or two with his. “I’d say the latter is quite extreme.”

Your voice trailed but you didn't pull away, not even as you were led away from the prying eyes of patrolling Harpers into dark foliage behind low hanging trees. It was sufficiently hot behind your ears, beneath your layers of thin clothes, and your throat tightened in your effort to look up at him.

His ribs were a prison for his heart, a good thing in this case as he tucked a hand against your neck and kissed you. He kissed you until the uncertainty fell away, until he felt your hands climb the length of his arms and every touch grew with assurance, fostering the beginning of a new dream.

a/n: possibly a part two if y'all let me know you like this??? so, pls interact and reblog to let me know!

this is also based off of my headcanons for tieflings that they're very loyal once they trust you—but they also fall h a r d.

it won't turn into anything big since I have my major projects going on in the background, but I'm just obsessed with dammon atm and figured the best way to get him out of my system was to write about him 💀. a second part would probs be smut.

[suugarbabe]

Forget Me Not (2)

[Chapter 2]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: none; fluff

“W-who are you guys?” 

Fred’s words echoed in your head like a gut-wrenching scream. You turned to George, not wanting to believe the situation unfolding in front of you, “He’s kidding right? Just one of those things you guys do? Georgie, tell me he’s kidding.” George’s face was full of sympathy, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I don’t think so, duck. It’s probably only temporary, you saw the gash on his head.” You nodded, trying to calm yourself down. George was able to convince you to go grab Fred some water as Molly and Arthur continued to look after him. You were filling a cup for him, when Ron and Hermione came up to you. “How’s he doing,” Hermione’s tone was careful, her eyes full of sorrow for you. “He’s alive at least but…” you trailed off, making Ron’s already worried face grow more pained, “W-what is it, y/n?” You were holding back tears again, stumbling over your words, “H-he…he doesn’t remember anything. He a-asked who we were, like he didn’t even recognize any of us, I just…I don’t know what to do or how to help him.” Hermione pulled your into her and you wrapped your arms around the girl, nearly sobbing now. Ron held on to both of you, trying to be encouraging, “He’ll remember, it might just take some time, you’ve been through too much for him to forget it all. You’ll see.” 

You had wanted Ron’s words to be comforting, but the next two weeks proved to be anything but. The entire Weasley family, Hermione, Harry and yourself  had all been staying at the burrow. Fred had been in and out of consciousness dealing with the rest of his injuries. You were by his side for a few hours each night, but it always seemed like he woke for a short period when you were either out of the house or someone else was looking after him. George was the first person Fred remembered, unsurprisingly. It happened randomly about the second or third night home. Fred had woken up from the couch, hearing commotion in the kitchen. You and George were making breakfast that day, giving Molly a break as she’d been nothing but stressed since the end of the war. You were setting the table when Fred walked into the kitchen, clapping a large hand on his twin’s shoulder, “Morning, Georgie.” George responded on instinct at first, “Morning Freddi-, wait, what did you just say?” Fred looked at his twin like he had gone nuts, “I said good morning, what’s wrong with you?” Hearing this interaction you rushed into the kitchen, hoping that a miracle had happened and Fred remembered everyone again, but when he saw you, there was no recognition. Instead, he elbowed George in the side, “Who’s the bird, Georgie? Didn’t know you could get a girl as gorgeous as her to fall for you.” He threw you a playful wink, and your heart soared slightly at his ability to unknowingly reassure he was still attracted to you, despite not realizing who you were. 

George gave you sorrowful eyes, but you just threw on your best smile, extending your hand out to Fred, “I’m, Y/n. While I appreciate the compliment, George and I are just friends.” He took your hand, kissing the top of it, “Well he is certainly a fool.” Your cheeks blushed immediately. George watched this interaction, smirk growing before remembering that Fred actually remembered who he was, “Freddie, you know who I am?” Fred looked at him like he had three heads, “Of course I know who my own twin is, ya git.” Fred laughed, shaking his head, but George grabbed him by the shoulders, “Freddie, my boy, what’s the last thing you remember?” 

“Fred’s remembering things?” Ron was practically running down the stairs, but shouting as he went, “YOU GUYS FRED IS REMEMBERING THINGS!” There was suddenly a stampede of red hair, now all gathering in the kitchen, however it was evident George was the luckiest member of the family because when Fred saw the group of Weasley’s surrounding him his first response was, “Georgie, there a ginger convention in town?” 

Within the next two weeks Fred had slowly began remembering each member of his family. Molly and Arthur were next, then Ron and Ginny, followed by Bill and Charlie. He remembered Percy last, or at least that’s what he said, no one could know for sure if it was the truth, or if he had remembered Percy earlier and just said he still didn’t remember to make him angry.

One afternoon, George had found you out in the back garden, watching the gnomes run around and fight each other. He sat down next to you, not saying anything but sharing his presence. After a moment, you spoke up, “I don’t think he’s ever going to remember me, Georgie... I love him so much, I guess he just didn’t feel the same.” George wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer so your head was leaning on him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, “I really thought I was important enough to not forget, at least not forever.” You felt George shake his head, “I don’t think that’s it, duck. He definitely feels something for you, he talks about you just about every bloody night. It’s like when he first started falling for you. I’m hearing basically all the same bullocks he was spouting before you two got together.” 

This made you feel a little better, that even though Fred couldn’t necessarily remember your relationship for the past year, he was falling for you all over again. If that’s what you had to do, then you would do it. You would pursue him again, make him fall in love with you again. You couldn’t lose him, not after everything that you’ve been through. Not after everything that’s happened. 

“Why don’t you just tell him that you’re his girlfriend, duck? He’d be over the fucking moon to know he’s actually scored you before. Might even bring back all the memories of you to begin with.” You shook your head at George, wiping away your tears, “No, I can't do that. As much as it hurts I don’t want him to feel like he’s obligated to me if he doesn’t start remembering. That he has to be a certain way with me because that’s how it was before. I mean, I’m glad it seems like he has at least some sort of crush on me. Gives me hope, yanno? But, he’s gotta remember without being pushed.” George nodded in understanding. 

So, you stood up from the garden bench, giving George one more hug and headed back towards the burrow. To your delight, Fred was sitting at the table, making himself a sandwich for lunch. He looked up when he heard someone enter, a smile breaking on his face when he saw it was you. His smile was one of the first things you fell in love with. It was hard not to, all the pranks and jokes he was pulling he was smiling nearly all the time. “Hey, y/n, was just making myself some lunch, want me to make you one too?” You nodded, sitting down across from him, “Sounds great, Freddie. Whatcha makin?” 

His smile grew wider, if possible, “Marshmallow fluff, bananas and Nutella. You have to try it, it’s absolutely delicious. I cannot for the life of me remember who told me about these but I’ve been craving one all morning and had to make it.” You laughed to yourself. You had introduced Fred and George to these sandwiches the summer of second year, they said they were craving something sweet but Molly said you couldn't have only sweets for lunch. Thus, you provided the alternative to the twins. It became your regular munchies snack. Fred happily made you your own, observing you as you took your first bite. 

“So, darling, what do you think?” Fred was watching you eagerly, analyzing your facial expressions. You hummed as you chewed, “So good.” You ate together in content silence. Every so often you would steal a glance at Fred, just to find him already looking at you. It reminded you of fifth year, when you first recognized you had a crush on him. You’d be sitting together at meals in the great hall. George and Dean drowning on about a prank they were planning and you’d glance at Fred, just to look at him. But he’d be looking at you already, freckled cheeks flushing and eyes darting away as soon as they locked with yours. But it was different today, he didn’t shy away when you caught him looking, he just kept staring, not ashamed. Your heart ached at how much you missed him. 

“So do you feel like everything’s pretty much back to normal for you? Memory wise I mean,” you were gathering up your plate, grabbing his as well to put in the sink. He shook his head, “Sort of? But not entirely.” This made you a little hopeful, “What do you mean?” He shrugged, standing up from the table and heading to the couch, “Dunno it's like…I have all these memories of different things, some are so vivid and clear like I never forgot anything in the first place. But then others…it’s like…” he turned to you, both sitting on the couch now, “I have this very specific dream that I keep having, it feels like a memory but parts of it are kind of…fuzzy, if that makes sense.” 

You placed a hand on his leg closest to you, it was instinct when you were comforting him, but you didn’t miss how his eyes darted down quickly and his cheeks flushed. You kept your hand there, encouraging him to continue, “How do you mean? Like you think it’s not a memory?” He shook his head, hands flying through the air as he spoke now, “No, no, it’s like I can feel it in my soul that it happened, but for whatever reason the person with me, I just can’t see them. Like, okay. So in this dream we’re at Hogwarts right? And we’re going through Snape's closet looking for the right ingredients to make these amazing fireworks because we’re going to blow them up during Ron’s owls. And I vividly remember pulling that stunt with George, the look on Umbridge’s face. Priceless. But whoever was with me that night, I just can’t see them.” 

His face fell, and your heart started to ache for him. You knew it was you he couldn’t remember. You remember breaking into Snape’s closet, filling your school bags with different ingredients, feeling the rush of adrenaline when you heard Mrs. Norris down the corridor and Fred lacing his fingers with yours and he rushed you both down the hall and into a nearby classroom until he saw on the map that the coast was clear. “I know they were important to me,” Fred continued, “but, Merlin, every time I think about it, try harder to remember them I get this bloody headache and my chest hurts.” He was bent over now, elbows on his knees and head in his hands now. 

You leaned closer to him, lightly scratching up and down his back. You’ve done it a million times to soothe him and it seemed to be having the same effect. His shoulders relaxed, breathing evening out. “This is gonna sound like a weird request, and if I’m overstepping boundaries you can tell me no,” Fred looked over at you, and you knew whatever request he had you were going to say yes. “Anything, Fred, what is it?” He took a deep breath, seemingly nervous about how you’d react, “I just, do you think you could hold me? Not like in a weird way! Just, could we lay down and I lay on you and you…keep scratching my back? I’ve just been so stressed and it’s one of the first things to really made me feel relaxed.” 

You felt yourself melting at his request. You laid back on the couch, head resting on the armrest. You opened your arms, beckoning him to you. He crawled over to you, resting his upper half on top of you. The weight of him felt like home, a comfort you’ve been neglected of for the last two and a half weeks. He hasn’t been by any type of smoke or fireworks since before the day of the war but he still smelled like firework smoke and cinnamon. You had to resist deeply inhaling him. Like muscle memory his hands found solace around your waist. You ran your nails up and down his back, applying light pressure in the spots you know he loves. You threaded the fingers of your other hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. You felt him hum against your neck, “Feels s’good. Very relaxing.” You smiled to yourself, happy to have him so close to you again. You felt his arms tighten around you ever-so-slightly, “M’sorry I don’t remember you, y/n.” You hands stilled as he kept talking, “I know you’re someone important to me. I can feel it, feel it all over. I wrack my brain every day for some sort of memory with you in it and I just can’t make them come.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, squeezing him hard against you now, “It’s okay, Freddie.” You kissed the top of his head, “We’ll make new memories.”

Taglist:

@words-are-cheap @l0ulistens @reallysparklychaos

AN: dunno how long this series is gonna be but it's gonna be kind of a slowburn regardless. also if your name is bold i tried to tag you and it didn't work. sozz :(

[rustys-lodge]

It is but a little cold

Request by : @xpsidedownn​ :  Please more Hannibal x daughter reader! I love your stories sm. I have a request, if that’s okay? Maybe reader gets sick and stays home from school (if they go) and Hannibal takes care of her? If you feel uncomfortable in any way pls don’t do this! Thank you 

A/N : I’m so so so sorry, darling. I have been busy with school. I hope you like it  ❤❤❤❤

Warnings : none, just a bunch of fluff. 

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A shaken up noise left your lips as you attempted to lift your head off the pillow, indomitable and unwilling.

“Dad…I’m not sure i’ll be able to go today.” You whispered, drawing in a breath of air and exhaling it painfully. 

Your whole body hurt, your muscles, your head, even your eyes ached with each movement of the iris and your body burned flames, all the while you trembled from the cold. You were ill, you felt like you were…dying. 

“Dying ?” Your father sweetly chuckled. “You are not dying,It is but a little cold.” 

You growned, unsatisfied with his answer. 

“ It is said that contentment preserves one from catching a cold.” And just as if he needed to make you feel worse. “Have you been feeling down lately ?” 

You growned. “Oh, please.” As you rolled to your other side, facing away from him while whimpers followed each movement you made, right until you stopped moving “You, of all people should not be mingling philosphy and science.” 

Hannibal chuckled again at your response, pressing his warm hand on the back of your shoulder. “I am only joking. What a better way to lighten up your mood ?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. Actually make me feel better, maybe ?

“Maybe try less boring jokes ?” You sugarcoated your own thoguhts, but still surpressed a laugh.And although you usually find yourself to be funny, he still was the man that kept you alive. And you’d much rather keep it that way.

“I’m going to let that one go, only because you are ill.” Your father flashed you a quick smile before getting off the bed. But you gripped his wrist and pulled him down, causing a gasp to leave his lips. 

Hannibal was a trained man, always aware of his surroundings because one little mistake, one little moment of relaxation would cost him his life, and much more. 

It seemed to you, though, that whenever you were around, he’d get calmer, like at that moment, if someone else would have done that to him, they’d be lamb for dinner....Not literally, hannibal is not a canniball. 

“Please don’t leave me;” You pouted. 

“I have to feed you, my darling. How else would you heal ?” Hannibal completely ignored your puppy eye attempt. He got up, again, tenser than before, prepared for another drag down. But you didn’t pull him again, you just gripped his wrist harder. 

“By staying with me, maybe ?” You sarcastically said, dragging your lower lip out even more. You thought, maybe if you looked cuter he’d stay ? 

But he didn’t. And you growled, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Rest, darling. I’ll come back with the most delicious soup you’ve ever tasted” Your father bent down slightly, rubbing your cheek from above. “And i will come back with the most delicious soup you’ve ever tasted.

Thankful, you smiled weakly.  “No need, dad. I’ll stick to a chicken soup this time. I’d much rather you be with me, right now.” 

Jokes aside, you didn’t want to be alone at such a moment. Your whole body ached, and so did your brain. But your father’s presence eased that pain, somehow. And as much as you knew his lovely soups do ease the pain too, you’d rather stick to his presence, his smile and lame jokes. 

“You’ve won me over.” Hannibal stepped away from you, just a little warning step, before disappearing out of the room. And soon after that, his steps quickened, he was running. 

“Why are you-” Your voice cracked and you let out a loud cough. “Why are you running ?” You tried again, quieter this time.

“So that i can come back quickly.” He shouted from afar, and all you could do is grin. 

Your father was never one to take things lightly, smile, joke, even less play around. But there he was, doing it all , for you.

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❤❤❤🌹🌹🌹