#sorry everyone this is not the most coherent thing I’ve ever written

[foolish-took]

Okay Loki thoughts on the season two finale specifically because I watched the season too spread out to remember enough details from the other episodes. And I need to get these thoughts out!!!

So my thoughts kind of go into two “categories” as we’ll call ‘em. The first is more about the actual plot and stuff of the episode, and the second is the cinematography (idk another word for it) aka just how the show was shot and like vague analysis from someone who doesn’t know all that much about this subject lol. But anyway, this season finale was absolutely fantastic. Having waited like a literal month or so to watch it I did get spoiled for the ending, BUT it was vague enough that I really had no idea what would happen or what it meant, so I wasn’t really sucked out of the viewing experience and was just as excited. Also as I’m writing this I’m just now realizing they started and ended this show with an episode titled “Glorious Purpose” holy shit. Mm. The way this show has depicted Loki’s character arc from someone who was certain he was destined for greatness that he had to force others to let him have to then becoming someone who really just wanted a simple office life surrounded by his friends, but ultimately chose to sacrifice his greatest want just for the overall greater good of everybody??? Ugh??? Anyway back to the episode itself. So, the section when Loki keeps time slipping back and back and back to try and get everything to work perfectly, the mounting desperation in his actions just becomes more and more apparent. I mean, he was pretty desperate when he started, but you have to be REALLY really desperate to spend 100 years learning complicated ass science and math. And then there’s also the fact that before the century of learning (which btw where did he even go???), he had to experience failure over and over again, countless times that we definitely didn’t see. And i know he’s experienced failure before but this is definitely different right? This isn’t failure for a purely selfish goal, this is failure of a goal to save everyone that also happens to be a bit selfish. AND Timely does over and over which cannot be nice to see/hear.

And then ya know as the episode goes on the desperate acts just continue as he goes to try to stop Sylvia from killing He Who Remains, and may I just say this scene was pretty fucking interesting actually?? Like not just the fact that Loki apparently learns to pause time but just the conversation that they have, the way that Loki here’s all these points of views, all these different things of people saying what should be done, what exactly is the bigger picture all that. And then he makes a conclusion of his own. He takes He Who Remains’s points about the inevitability of it all, Sylvie’s arguments that every timeline should get to exist and have a fighting chance, and also just the fact that he wants his friends to stay alive, he’s like okay well. If this is what’s wrong, and this is what I need to have done for everybody to be safe, then I need to do something that benefits everybody even if it means I don’t necessarily benefit. Which then leads me to his talk with Season 1 Mobius. And the fact that he literally becomes this essentially all powerful god that sits on a throne and literally is the fucking tree of life from Norse mythology. Don’t even look at me I need a minute.

And don’t even get me fucking started on Mobius in this episode oh my god. He’s getting his own paragraph. Like dude!!! My man was the only one to say something every time Loki would go back to rush the whole fixing the time loop scenario, and then when Loki is faced with this ultimatum of killing Sylvie or letting HWR dies and leading to the destruction of the TVA, what does he do? He fucking goes and talks to Mobius oh my god??? He asks Mobius for advice, and he completely takes that shit to heart. I actually have way more thoughts on this specific scene but that’ll be for another time this is already suuuper long. But anyway yeah like Mobius was just fucking wonderful this episode. Skipping to the end because honestly that’s where the heartbreak is, I a hundred percent agree with others about Mobius getting on the timeline so Loki can see him. He was so adamant about not seeing what his life could’ve been like I don’t think just because the branches were saved he would’ve been like “ya know what maybe I do wanna see it!” Like no I’m sorry. And also i dunno if this is necessarily how it works but he went to a timeline that already HAD a Mobius. So that wasn’t even his timeline. Or maybe it was I’m honestly not sure but ANYWAY. The way the rest of that scene plays out where there’s just so much space beside him, the close up of his face against this bright blue background like it MEANS something I know it does. It’s giving foreshadowing ya know? I might just be blowing smoke though. I just think it’s interesting that THIS is what Mobius decides to do. “Let time pass”, in a timeline where one of him already exists. There’s gotta be more to it right? Is he gonna try to get to Loki somehow? Is he just gonna hop around but stay where he knows Loki will be able to easily see him? God I hope so.

I think we’ll end it there if any of this made any sense then congrats and also I’m sorry 😭. If I post further thoughts I promise to make them more coherent and less rambly.

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (15)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda search for their printsessa with the help of Tony.

Warnings: dark themes, gun use, blood mention, serious injury

A/N: am I devastated that this is the final part of one of my favorite things I’ve ever written? absolutely! but I’m also really happy with myself for being able to turn the images in my head for this ending into coherent words. I’ve been holding onto this idea for weeks and I’m ecstatic to see everyone’s response to it. I’ll be letting you know later on this week what’s coming next! 👀

Previous part

-

With Clint’s assistance, Natasha and Wanda were able to quickly create a plan and make their way to the last base, using the fear and anger of their girlfriend’s disappearance to barrel through anyone that stood in the way of intel collection. They wasted no time in waking everyone up when they returned to the safe house.

“Is there a security breach?” Steve questioned as the group gathered, and Natasha tossed the hard drive at him.

“We got everything, and we need to get back--”

“Oh, I get it,” Sam cut in with an eye roll. “They rushed through the mission to get back to their girlfriend so they can cuddle and all that cute shit--”

“She’s missing!” Wanda growled as her eyes began to glow, causing Sam to step back a few feet with wide eyes.

Everyone aside from Clint started asking questions all at once, and Natasha shut them all down with a stern command to be ready to fly out in ten minutes. Bags were packed and bodies were dressed as the team rushed to get to the jet, afraid of what might happen if they delayed the two women any longer.

“While we’re checking out the house, I need someone looking into Wesley L/N,” Natasha ordered, nodding as Tony volunteered and sending him all the information she had.

“Who is this, her brother?”

“Her cousin, if that’s even true--”

“It is, we checked the family history,” Wanda insisted, grabbing Natasha’s hand with a shaky breath. “They’re really close, he wouldn’t hurt her.”

“We don’t know that! Anyone can do something terrible if they’re pushed far enough--”

“Stop! Just fucking stop!” Wanda cried out as she covered her face with her hands, and Natasha moved to wrap her arms around her as she sat in the seat beside her.

“I’m sorry, Wan. I’m just worried and my brain is wired to go to the worst case scenario instantly.”

Wanda simply sniffled as tears started spilling down her cheeks again, leaning her head against Natasha’s shoulder as she accepted the comforting embrace. After a few minutes of silence between the pair, Wanda dropped her hands into her lap as she glanced at green eyes already absentmindedly staring at her, lowering her voice as she spoke.

“I want to ruin his mind before we kill him.”

-

The house felt empty and colder without your presence, every step on the carpeted floor of the front room seemed to echo around the building. Tears threatened to build in Wanda’s eyes again but she held them back, intent on believing that they will find you and bring you back where you belong. Only they could take care of what you needed.

A heavy feeling washed over their hearts when they entered your solo room and discovered some of your clothes and shoes were missing, along with the travel bag you’d first arrived with. The guest room Wesley resided in was also void of his presence, and anything that could clue them into where he’d taken you. 

“Tash, look.”

Natasha followed her gaze to the security room, cursing loudly in Russian when she noticed the door left wide open. She stormed inside, clenching her fist in anger when she noticed the tiny plastic baggie holding the miniscule tracker that was supposed to be in your leg right now.

“He’s a psychiatrist, not a fucking surgeon!” she fumed as she showed the object to Wanda. “How did he get this out?!”

Wanda walked around her to get to one of the computers, logging in as fast as her fingers would allow her to type and bringing up the security footage from the last several days. For the most part, the two of you acted normally, doing all the things you’d told them about like playing games and watching TV, but the sight of the two of you emerging from the TV room in the basement and entering the game room brought something to her attention.

“Did you see that?” She backed up the footage and switched over to slow motion. “She’s limping.”

“Isn’t that the day she hurt her leg in the backyard?”

“Yes, but…” The backyard footage is brought up next and skipped through until the moment of your ‘injury’. “This happened almost two hours later, meaning--”

“It was a cover for the tracker removal.” Natasha cursed once more as she released a frustrated sigh. “She’s getting locked in her room as soon as she gets back here.”

A notification similar to a phone ringing went off on one of the monitors, and the two women scurried over to answer the incoming call from Tony.

“Everything you had on this Wesley kid checks out, no criminal history or secret ties to any Hydra related groups, or anything else you have to worry about. However, I tried tracking and hacking into his phone and it seems to be wiped clean. So I got into his phone records with his cell company and his last call was made to an unsaved number connected to someone named Kendall, last known address in Nebraska.”

“Send it to us, please.”

They were on their feet as soon as the call ended, grabbing the mission bags abandoned in the doorway and heading off to their respective rooms to repack for the trip.

In nearly the same moment, you were in your safe house in Nebraska, rounding the corner to enter Wesley’s room. He knew something was wrong by the way your eyes watered and your shaky hand held onto the bugging device.

“They found us.” There was no questioning tone in his voice, but you answered with a nod anyway.

“Pack everything you brought and get out of here, drive toward the west coast until you run out of gas and hide wherever you stop.”

“What?! I can’t leave you here! They’ll just take you back and it’ll be worse than before.”

“I’ll be fine, Wes,” you assured him with a gentle squeeze of your hand over his. “I planned for this too, and if I know them as well as I think, I’ll be free to come find you.”

-

Wesley was packed and gone within the next hour, and you worked quickly to transform the space, make it seem as if you’d been the only one to reside in the home. Once that was set, you changed clothes and positioned yourself in an armchair against the wall in the front room, a gun resting in your lap. You didn’t move when a knock was heard on the front door that night, simply waited until the visitors got impatient and picked the lock to force their way in.

“You worried us, printsessa, disappearing like that,” Natasha addressed you in a chilling tone as the two of them stopped a few feet away from you. “And we’ll deal with that later, after you tell Wesley to come out so we can punish him first.”

“He’s not here,” you told her calmly. “His only job was to bring me here--”

“And take the tracker out of your leg, which we will be putting back,” Wanda interjected with a stern expression. “Now, you can either come with us to the car willingly or we’ll drag you.”

“I won’t be doing either of those things.” You stood slowly, lifting the gun to your temple as you went. “Your only choices are to leave me here and go back to the way your lives were before I came in, or you can let me die. If you take me again, I’ll just fight you every day until you wish you’d killed me yourself. No matter how you manipulate my mind, my true self will never love someone who wants to control me. I’ll tell you how much I hate you for ruining my life every second I’m able, and I’ll kill myself the moment I get the chance to do so.”

You noticed the glassy look in their eyes as they faced each other, and you knew they were having a silent conversation in their minds. Seconds felt like minutes as they seemed to discuss their options, eventually turning back to face you. Wanda was fully crying now, and Natasha seemed to be physically holding back her own emotional break.

“We always thought we’d be able to love and care for you until our dying days.” Her shaky voice filled the quiet room. “But we understand if you don’t want that, and we’re sorry that you’ll never be able to love anyone else.”

Before you had time to react, Natasha was pulling a gun out and aiming it at your heart, the sound of the shot echoing and triggering Wanda’s instant sobbing. Natasha was quick to pull her into her arms, facing her away from you as you tumbled to the ground, your own weapon sliding away as your free hand weakly pressed against the oversized sweatshirt that covered your wound.

The two women hurried out of the house as you began to choke and cough up blood, not able to stomach hearing or seeing anymore, and the sound of a car speeding off echoed throughout the neighborhood. Waiting another minute or two to be sure they left, you got up to walk off to the bathroom, wiping the fake blood off your palm the best you could. After slipping the bulletproof vest off your torso and washing your hands, you quickly rinsed your mouth and brushed your teeth to get rid of the red stains, lifting your head to look in the mirror with a smile when you were done.

You looked pretty good for a dead woman.

-

Tags: @littlegasps @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @emilyprentisswife @cherrieloco @bebe404 @seventeen0 @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @fayhar @becka107 @wannabe-fic-reader @beforeoursecrets @cosmicbrownies7 @messuhp @mjaudrey @sxphiaswitch @trikruismybitch @muted-stoneheart @multi-images @just-a-normalpersons @want-to-watch-it-burn @stop-drop-and-drumroll @stickystudentlightmug @pianogirl2121 @welcometothepeanutgallery @witchxaf @natashadeservedmore @sakurat123 @darkangelxoxo @haiiiloeee2

[theonewiththefanfics]

Give You Hell (one-shot)

Synopsis: When you’re in a relationship with someone famous while being famous it can be difficult. But not for the Reader and Harry, yet when her past comes knocking, she’ll make sure to know where she stands.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, some minor angst, like microscopic 

Warnings: swearing, reference to past abusive relationship, but nothing explicit.

Word count: 3428

100% inspired by ‘All American Rejects’’ ‘Gives You Hell’

Dating someone famous while being famous yourself had pros and cons, much like everything in life. The cons mostly came from the outside, not from the inside. It was the opinions of others, thinking what they said mattered, the scrutiny of the press, hoping one of them would mess up, and they could run some bullshit article just so their numbers could go up, without a second thought of how the people involved felt, and it was some jealous fans who didn’t seem to comprehend the people they admired were actual human beings with feelings and thoughts and emotions and autonomy. But other than that, Y/N’s and Harry’s relationship was just like any other. Save for when their emotions bubbled over, millions of people heard them in songs.        They’d met at the iconic yellow-suit-Harry Brit awards. She’d been right next to Hugh Jackman opening the show, a red glittering bodysuit with a black and gold ring-master jacket, a top hat adorning her head as she dominated the stage. If Harry had been sloshed at that point (much like he was later on, but who was Y/N to say, given how most of the night was a blur for her), he would’ve absolutely started drooling at the sight of her, and he was one of the thousands who stood up, hollering and clapping as she and Hugh ended their performance.

       Much to his dismay though, Y/N wasn’t one of the people assigned to sit by his table, instead, she was a couple of rows behind, whispering something into Billie Eilish’s ear, the two erupting into uncontrollable laughter.        He felt like a creep as he tried to catch every possible glimpse of Y/N, her smile making his heart race. She’d been on his radar for a while, had even thought about asking her to collaborate on a song for ‘Fine Line’, but at the end of the day, it was an album of personal discovery (and when one of his producers told him Y/N was halfway across the world in the middle of Norwegian woods for the next half-year working on her own music, he didn’t want to be a bother). But seeing her then, Harry wondered why he hadn’t reached out on his own, especially after at the after-party Lizzo had dragged Y/N to him and introduced the two.        The following day, pictures of them dancing together, drinks in hands and drunken grins on their faces would sweep the web, sparking millions of rumours, but, at that moment, they didn’t care, nor did they care about what was written because as Harry twirled Y/N under his arm, as much as the connection was there, that night they went their separate ways. Even when they were drunk, they understood that about the other person, and wouldn’t accept anything else, but a sober and coherent ‘yes’.        Sometime midday the next day, Harry reached out to Y/N through a DM on Instagram checking in on how she was doing, which then turned into a six-hour FaceTime call.        “What do you mean you’ve never had a hangover?!”        Y/N laughed at Harry’s almost offended expression. “I mean I’ve never had a hangover. I’ve never thrown up while drunk or after being drunk, my head’s never hurt – nothing. I mean I’m tired, but that’s because I’m still on New York time and got to bed at like five AM.”        “You… are something else.”        She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that something else something good?”        Y/N didn’t know, but when Harry saw her eyes sparkle, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew – she was it. “The best.”        “Well…” she bit her lip. “If I’m the best, would it be too forward of me to ask you out for a coffee?”        What Harry didn’t know was that when she saw him smile as if those were the best news in the world, her heart skipped as well, and she knew he was the one.        “Only if it’s my treat.”        “But I was the one who asked you out.”        “Yes, but you can pay for the second date.”        Holding in her squeals of joy was tough, but she raised her eyebrow, giving Harry a sly smirk. “Already so confident there’ll be a second date?”        Harry scoffed. “And a wedding!”        Seeing Y/N throw back her head as she laughed, made all sorts of butterflies fly through his stomach.        “Okay, Styles. I’ll take your word for it.”        Three months into the relationship, the two were booked to appear on The Graham Norton show together, which was also the first time they’d appear officially as a couple at a work/outing kind of a setting since the rumours started floating, and a picture of Harry kissing Y/N outside of a hotel room had sort of confirmed that.        “So, you two.” Graham pointed between Y/N and Harry with his cards. “Have started to date? Not to say anything Harry, but Y/N… I didn’t think boy-bands were your type.”        That made her lean over in laughter as Harry gave everyone a shocked face, before slumping back and pouting, nudging Y/N with his knee. “That’s not funny.”        “I mean it kind of is.”        “She was twelve when she swore off boy-bands.” Graham nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Isn’t that what you said last time you were here?”        “Hey, it’s been ten years since I said that!” Y/N laughed. “Cut me some slack. All the people I was crushing on are married anyway… with kids… and could probably be my dads… I have issues, don’t I?”        Everyone exploded into giggles while Harry shook his head, chuckling.        “Love you with all of your issues.” He nudged her shoulder, and she nudged right back, taking a sip of her drink.        “Yeah, give it a couple of months. You’ll regret your words.”        The thing was Y/N was so wrong, and she’d never been happier to be so wrong. Each morning they were together, Harry woke up to her showering him with kisses or vice versa. As private as Harry was, his Instagram stories were now filled with pictures and small videos of them, of Y/N’s face half-covered by a blanket, glasses crooked as she smushed her cheek to his chest and watched a movie, or her eating breakfast while re-watching old Bones and Castle episodes with captions like ‘dunno how she keeps the food down’ and ‘she swears it’s just for research’, while her feed was full of candid Harry photos or her rummaging through his closet and showing everyone his immaculate style, and giving tips how others can recreate it (also she may or may not just use that as a reason to steal his clothes).        Generally, people loved it, and their love for one another. It was refreshing to see them enjoy each other’s company, and not be afraid to do so, especially now, given how it was a couple of days before Y/N ended her tour in New York in Madison Square Garden, to which Harry had specifically flown out for despite being in the middle of filming for ‘The Little Mermaid’. Three AM blinked on the clock, as the two finally drifted off to sleep after five hours of a passionate reunion when her phone dinged, indicating a message had arrived.        “Turn it off,” Harry grumbled into the skin of Y/N’s back. “’S too early.”        She hummed in agreement, furrowing her brows as her palm blindly searched for the offending device, and she squinted her eyes as the light burned her retinas before widening in shock at the message.        Harry felt her body go rigid, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Everythin’ alright, lovie?”        “Uh – “ she stuttered, trying to process the words on the screen. “Uh, yeah. Yes, everything’s fine. Just… some last-minute changes for the show. They want something really big for the ending, and some of the propositions are just…”        She could feel a smile stretch across Harry’s mouth. “Extravagant?”        “You could say that, yeah.”        “Sounds like it’s gonna be one hell of a show. Not that the others weren’t.”        Y/N switched the phone off wiping away the message first and then turned to cuddle into Harry’s chest. “It most certainly will.”        For the next two days, she was an anxious ball of mess, as her crew got everything ready, and her and her band rehearsed relentlessly before she asked all of them to gather at the studio to add a song to the setlist.        “It’s gonna be a couple more hours, Hazza,” Y/N murmured into the phone as Harry had called in to check on her. “ ‘M sorry. You don’t have to wait up for me. I know you’re still adjusting to New York time.”        “ ‘S alright,” he slurred, clearly already falling asleep but determined not to. “Can’t sleep without you anyway.”        At those words, Y/N’s heart did that stupid flipping thing it’d been doing ever since Harry entered her life to stay, and a shy grin blossomed on her lips. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. But I’ll tell you what - if you do go to bed, I’ll be sure to wake you up with a kiss when I get back.”        “You promise?” She could hear the smile on his face.        “Swear it.”        “Alright, lovie. I’ll be waiting to cash in on that kiss.”        “I’ll run to give it to you as soon as I can. G’night.”        “See ya’ in a bit.”        Y/N let out a shudder as she heard the call disconnect. She entered back inside the studio and clapped her hands, drawing the attention of her producers and band members. “Where were we?”

***

       The hour before a show was always nerve-wracking for Y/N. It’s when the adrenaline truly started to rush, when her feet and palms got all tingly, and her ears and cheeks heated up. It was when their warm-up band exploded on stage, and the crowd got pumped up. But the best moment that night by far was right when she was about to run out, Harry had pulled her back by the wrist and kissed the living daylights out of her.        “You’re gonna kill it tonight,” he muttered against her lips, words skimming her mouth and making her smile as bright as the sun. She seemed to do that a lot around him. It’s why he now dedicated Golden to her every time he sang it.        “Thank you. For being here.”        Harry flicked her nose. “Always. Now go. People are waiting.”        When Y/N finally appeared on stage, pretty much glowing as brightly as the stage lights, her fans went wild, and even more so when she jumped, starting off the show. The whole time, her gaze flitted to backstage just to get a glimpse of Harry, and whenever she did, she saw him dancing, singing along, filming her having fun and some clips of himself as well, going absolutely ham to her songs.        As the night was moving towards the end, usually, she’d feel euphoria from giving a great performance, after hearing thousands of people sing her songs in unison, now Y/N felt closer to throwing up and fainting.        “So uh…” She pushed back strands of sweaty hair, hollers of people echoing in her head. “This is a very special show tonight. Umm… this is the first concert my boyfriend’s come t - .” She didn’t even get to finish the sentence before the cheers of the people interrupted her, deafening the girl even with the earplugs.        “But umm… it’s also a special show because two days ago someone reached out to me, and uh… he… well, he was as important of a person once the same way Harry is right now, and he wrote this.”        Y/N went over to where the piano chair was, lifted it and fished out her phone from it, revealing the message that’d been basically haunting her nights and days since receiving it.        “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” To her own surprise, her voice was steady and sure, unlike her hands which were trembling like leaves in a storm. “I know you look happy and in love, but I know it’s not true. I’ve known you for five years, I know how to see through the mask you put on every day just to make sure others are happy while you yourself suffer an inauthentic life. But you do deserve to be happy. And I’ll be waiting for you if you decide to give us a chance again. I’ll be at your concert in Madison Square.” She looked out into the crowd. “You wrote a song once for me. If you sing it, that’s how I’ll know you feel the same.”        By the time she got to the end, there were no more shouts or screams, but confused murmurs. Y/N let out a shuddering breath, hoping that she could manage to do what she wanted, and everything didn’t fall apart. “The thing is, I’d like for Harry to come on stage, please.”        She could see the fear in his eyes as he jogged to stand next to her, but he disguised it with an overenthusiastic smile as he waved over towards the raging sea of people. He’d seen the message, had seen her reread it more than fifty times by that point, and as sure as he was in their relationship, when someone who held such importance, no matter if good or not, in someone’s life came knocking again, you could never be too sure what would happen. Harry didn’t want to say anything, believing if it was important enough, she’d tell him. Guess that was it.        “So, uh…” Y/N pulled Harry’s arms over her shoulders and grasped onto them, grounding them both. “This is for you.” Y/N looked over into the crowd before glancing over her shoulder, Y/E/C eyes meeting Harry’s wavering green ones. “And you,” she whispered so that only he could hear. “Hope you know I mean everything.”        As the cords started playing, she felt Harry unwarp his arms from where she’d been holding them over her shoulders and a smile erupted on her face.        “I wake up every evening,” Y/N sang, “with a big smile on my face, and it never feels out of place.”        “And you’re still probably workin’,” Harry’s voice joined in, grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s, as he now had a microphone in hand, the other placing earplugs in his own ears, “at a nine-to-five pace… I wonder how bad that tastes.”        “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the two harmonized, Y/N’s eyes locked onto the masses, imagining the face of her ex-boyfriend who had the audacity to send that message.        “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.” Harry was looking at the crowd as well, now fully understanding the message and the person behind it, and although he lived by ‘treat people with kindness’, he couldn’t help but gloat at the fact he got to sing with the love of his life on stage, and basically serenade a break-up song to a person who didn’t know how to appreciate what he’d had.        Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Now, where’s your picket fence, love, and where’s that shiny car? It didn’t ever get you far. You’ve never seemed so tense, love. I’ve never seen you fall so hard. Do you know where you are?” It was hard not to smile, knowing where she was and who she was with. Harry threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders as she sang, giving a mock sad look, while Harry pouted. “And truth be told, I miss you… And truth be told, I’m lying!”        “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Y/N pointed towards where she imagined her ex was standing. “Then she’s the fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell! Hope it gives you hell!” For a split second, the music slowed down, guitar strumming in the air, as Harry pulled Y/N by the palm and towards his chest.        When the next lyrics came out of his mouth, he knew them to be true as he sang them to the man, he’d heard Y/N talk about, to the man who thought everything he’d done to her, every horrible word and deed was justified, to the man who thought breaking someone else down was the only way to bring themselves up. “Now tomorrow you’ll be thinking to yourself, where did it all go wrong, but the list goes on and on.”        “And truth be told, she misses you,” Harry hummed, Y/N letting out a large laugh, holding onto his bicep, as he slightly changed the lyrics. “And truth be told, she’s lying! When you see her face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk her way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!  When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Harry sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she’s the fool you’re just as well hope it gives you hell.”        “Now you’ll never see,” Y/N took over the song. “What you’ve done to me.” She placed a hand over her heart. “You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me. And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes, with that sad, sad look that you wear so well.” She dragged her finger down her cheek, giving a pout while Harry mimicked her stance before turning the mic to the audience.        “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the crowd sang back with such vigour, Y/N was sure the whole ground was shaking just from their voices, and the clapping and stomping to the drum rhythm would bring the whole world down. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well, then she’s the fool you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell!”        The two were jumping around the stage like madmen, adrenaline filling their veins. “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” Everyone else repeated.        “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!”        “When you sing this song and sing along, well you’ll never tell. Then you’re the fool, I’m just as well, hope it gives you hell!” Y/N grinned once more, placing her hand over her heart, meaning every word – she was just as well. She had amazing friends, a career that’d flourished, and a person who loved her more than words could describe.        “When you hear this song, I hope that it will give you hell!” Harry crooned down the mic, knowing their happiness would, Y/N’s happiness would give him hell. And he enjoyed it, knowing how good her life was.        “You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell!” Her voice became the only sound as the last word echoed around everyone, her chest heaving up and down from the exertion, from all of the emotions running through her body as well as the overwhelming feeling of not only having Harry watch her perform but to end up performing with him.        When his hands wrapped around her body, it startled her out from the daze, and the popping confetti startled her even more, as the rest of her band joined the two to take their bows, grins on all of their faces while they did so.        “Not the song you thought I’d sing, is it?” Y/N laughed into the mic, Harry’s arms tightening around her waist. “There’s a reason I blocked your number, let alone you from my life. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”        “But I would like to say thank you, to the asshole in question,” Harry said, making Y/N’s forehead scrunched up. “You let go of the best person ever; you had the honour of calling yourself her boyfriend, but instead, you chose to walk away. So, thank you for that. Because now I’ll have that honour and pleasure for the rest of our lives.”        Yeah. It was one hell of a show.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I love ‘All American Rejects’ and have been listening to ‘Gives You Hell’ non stop. It’s the best break-up song ever, and you won’t convince me otherwise. 

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my work on other platforms without my explicit written permission. reblogs are fine :)

[thatringboy]

Ganqing getting together Idol au? (Extra: Hanahaki disease and angsty, only if you want. Otherwise, fluff or angst or whatever is fine.)

Or

Just idol au with genshin characters, doesn't have to be anything in particular

ohmygods this one took so long to write and it was so worth it! love me some good angst and hanahaki disease up in this house!!!

Glaze Lilies in my Throat

Warnings: Hanahaki Disease, Blood, Hospitals

Characters: Keqing, Ganyu, Ningguang, Beidou

Ships: Gangqing, Background Beiqquang if you squint

Word Count: 12,758 (FIVE pages of google docs!)

Summary: Idol!Keqing finds herself falling fast and hard for her fellow dancer, Ganyu, but her pride keeps her from admitting her feelings. Until the petals in her throat start taking a toll on her career

The first time the purple haired girl noticed the petals, she just thought that they had fallen off of a bouquet she had received from a fan. Keqing assumed her throat was sore from the show she had completed, so she popped a cough drop in her mouth and quickly changed to head to dinner with the other girls in the group.

The restaurant they were at wasn’t anything too fancy, just a small hole in the wall place for their group, the Qixing, to meet up. The group’s center, Ningguang, knew the owner and was able to order milkshakes for everyone for free.

It was a pleasant outing. Keqing sat near the window side of the booth the women shared and quietly sipped her vanilla milkshake while the other members of the group discussed their performances. Ganyu slid into the seat next to her and pushed a straw into her own chocolate shake.

“Is everything alright? You look lost in thought, Miss Keqing.”

There was a sudden tightness in her throat, or something became lodged in her airways because Keqing began to cough into her elbow. “My apologies, I was just staring off into space. I am quite alright.”

Ganyu gave her a pleasant smile that made heat rise in her cheeks before turning to the rest of the group to join their conversation. Keqing quickly looked away and her eyes fell to her lap where the blue petals had fallen off of her sleeve. They were identical to the petals she had seen earlier that evening. Keqing was no fool, she instantly recognized what had brought the flowers and her eyes shifted back to Ganyu, who was laughing at Ningguang and her chocolate moustache.

She brushed the petals onto the floor with a cold expression. Out of sight, out of mind.

The petals plagued Keqing for a few more months after that night. They always appeared when Ganyu was near her, but all the idol did was tuck them away and began keeping a handkerchief on her person for when the blood started to come up with the flowers. She became used to the tightness of her throat and dryness of her mouth that accompanied her beating heart when Ganyu would clasp her hand between those slender fingers and stare at her with those large eyes. Everytime Keqing thought she would collapse from exhaustion, Ganyu would be there to pick her up and tell her to keep going. How could she not fall for such kindness?

After the petals began appearing, Keqing only allowed herself to be alone with Ganyu once in fear of making her feelings known. It was after a particularly long dance rehearsal and the other women left before they did. As they were cleaning up the practice room, a small photo fell out of Ganyu’s bag.

Keqing moved to pick it up, turning the paper over in her fingers. In the photo was a baby Ganyu sitting on the lap of an elegant woman with blue eyes and had her hair pinned up by an eerily familiar flower.

“Who is this woman?”

Ganyu glanced over at the picture. “My, that’s an old picture. I’ve told you how I was adopted as a child, right? That woman was my adoptive mother, Guizhong.”

“Was?” Keqing handed the photo back.

“Yes, was. She was a botanist who loved flowers. That one in her hair is a species she selectively bred for years before perfecting them. We called them ‘Glaze Lilies’. She was killed in a hit and run when I was twelve.”

So the flowers have a name. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Ganyu gave her a sweet smile. “Don’t be, she’s always with me, I can feel her guiding me.”

Keqing turned away before the blush could overtake her face and swallowed down the petals in her mouth. So cute!

The first time a blue bud appeared was during a meeting with her manager and Ningguang, who was also the owner of the group. Keqing shifted uncomfortably in her chair as the manager and albino woman looked over a report of her performances.

Ningguang cleared her throat. “Keqing, you know how much we love to have you in the group…”

Keqing felt the familiar tightness in her throat. She sat still and tried to swallow it down as Ningguang continued.

“However, your ratings have been going down recently. You have been leaving rehearsals early, and we’ve noticed the quality of your performances is suffering.”

Slowly, Keqing reached into the pocket of her skirt for a handkerchief as she felt the petals rise back up. Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic.

The manager made a sad face. “Keqing… if things don’t change, then we may need to replace you. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are now, I really don’t want to do this, but if you can’t put your previous energy into this work then maybe we need to go separate ways.”

Panic.

“No, no, I can do it!” Opening her mouth to protest was a bad idea. As soon as the words spilled from her lips, she doubled over in a fit of coughs, the scent of blood filling the room. Something larger than her usual petals dislodged itself from her throat and fell onto the floor between her and her bosses.

An unbloomed Glaze Lily pod with specks of blood tainting the innocent color bounced on the carpet and rolled next to Ningguang’s foot. She looked at Keqing’s face in horror. “Keqing…”

The purple haired girl got to her feet, covering her mouth with the tiny piece of fabric and bowed quickly, moving towards the door. “I-I’m sorry, I promise to get to practice on time and I will get my ratings back up!”

She only took two steps before falling to her knees in another fit of coughing. This time it was two pods, one halfway blooming. Ningguang called for the manager to call an ambulance before rushing to Keqing’s side, rubbing a soothing hand across her back.

The next few hours were a blur. Keqing barely remembers an ambulance arriving, being carted away with a tube down her throat, a couple doctors examining her before letting her rest. When she became coherent, Keqing was able to sit up despite the oxygen tube in her nose and became aware of a doctor waiting for her.

“Miss Keqing, how are you feeling?”

She opened her mouth to talk, but it was the most sore it had ever felt. She tapped her neck to let the doctor know her speech status. He nodded and produced a pen and pad for her to write on.

“I feel terrible, but not like I’m about to die.”

He read over the paper. “Are you aware of what The Hanahaki Disease is?”

“Of course.” She penned down.

“How long have you been in this predicament?” His calm eyes went back to the pad.

Keqing thought for a second before writing again. “Five months.”

“Five months.” He read outloud softly. “Do you know who brought the flowers to you?”

“No.” She lied. She had known from the very beginning, but a glance out of the glass window of the room’s door revealed that her entire group was anxiously waiting outside. There was no need to drag anyone else into her problem.

The doctor took a deep breath. “Miss Keqing, you are aware of what the removal of the flowers entails if you cannot find the person responsible for these feelings, correct?”

“Yes.” Loss of the memories of that person. From beyond the door, Ganyu peeked through the window with a worried expression. Behind her was Ningguang frantically pointing at her head with wide eyes and her lips in a thin, focused line. The doctor followed Keqing’s eyes to the door and as he did, Ningguang instantly stopped and went back to looking as regal as ever.

The doctor chuckled dryly. “You know, I can’t do my job if you lie to me.”

He got up and moved to let Ganyu into the room as Keqing began to scribble down words in a panic. The doctor opened the door and gestured to the chair beside the bed before shutting the door behind the other idol. Ganyu nervously sat down and Keqing stopped writing, not meeting her eyes.

Ganyu reached out to touch Keqing’s hand, but stopped. “We were all so worried when Miss Ningguang told us you had been hospitalized. I’m not sure what I would have done if something had happened--” She caught Keqing staring at her with wide eyes and silenced herself with the lightest shade of pink dusting her cheeks.

Keqing pulled her knees to her chest to have a hard surface to write on. “Did she tell you what I have?”

Ganyu shook her head. “No, but Miss Ningguang gave a weird look.”

Ah, the ever observant Ningguang and the blissfully unaware Ganyu. She scratched down another sentence. “There’s something I should probably tell you…”

Ganyu read the notepad, whispering the words to herself in that way that made Keqing fall harder and nodded. “I’m all ears, err, eyes?”

Keqing flipped to a new page. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears and her hands shook a little. She was a fool for even considering having the flowers removed surgically. She held the pen over the paper and began writing everything down. From the night at the milkshake bar, the petals in her throat being the same kind of flowers Ganyu’s mother made, how Ganyu’s smile made her heart flutter and her stomach twist in a way that she never wanted to end. The flowers had stolen her voice, so she wrote it all, pouring her heart into every word like the disease would kill her that very night.

When she finished, Keqing quickly shoved the notepad to Ganyu and turned away with a red face, not wanting to see the other’s reaction to the written love confession.

Ganyu read every word slowly, tears pooling in her blue and purple eyes and blush burning her cheeks at the raw emotions before her. When she finished, she simply held out her free hand for the pen, which Keqing practically threw at her. She wanted her bedsheets to swallow her up like that scene from Nightmare on Elm Street.

The blue haired woman wrote something quickly and handed both the pen and pad back to Keqing. She took it and read over the short message left at the bottom of her confession.

“I feel the same way.”

In an instant, Keqing felt her throat open and she took a loud gulp of air, making Ganyu jump in surprise. Keqing began to laugh as she grabbed Ganyu’s wrist and pulled her onto the bed and into a tight hug. “Yes yes yes yes yes! I can finally breathe!”

She realized how close Ganyu’s face was to her own and let go quickly, the color returning to her face ten-fold. “Sorry about that.”

Ganyu remained sitting on the bed, covering her face in her own hands. “It’s fine, really!”

“Hah! What a couple of dorks!” Called a deep voice from the doorway.

The two on the bed snapped their heads towards the sound to see Ningguang grabbing the intruder, a tall burly woman with an eyepatch, by her ear and dragging her out of the room. “Out with you! I called you here to provide moral support, not gawk at my dancers!”

Ganyu giggled. “That’s Miss Beidou for you, I suppose.”

Keqing looked at the discarded notepad and those five words scrawled in neat handwriting.

“I feel the same way.”

Keqing is a woman of sound mind. She thinks through her actions and keeps to herself when situations do not concern her. She keeps her head down and doesn’t make rash decisions. So of course she surged forward to plant a kiss on Ganyu’s cheek before pulling back in horror of her own actions and covering her lips with her hand.

Ganyu turned red as her hand went up to touch the spot Keqing had kissed. “That was sweet, thank you.”

“You said on the paper that you feel the same way I do about you so I just thought--” Her panicked rambling was silenced by Ganyu moving closer to her and gently pulling her hands from her mouth with a nervous smile.

“I’m not very good with words like you, Miss Keqing, so sorry that my confession was so bland.”

Keqing blinked. “That’s what you’re caught up on?! And enough with the formalities, you just cured my Hanahaki Disease and saved me from getting fired!”

“Wait, fired? I thought Miss Ningguang pulled you into the manager’s office yesterday for tea… were you about to be let go?”

“Probably!”

Ganyu playfully poked Keqing’s oxygen tube in her nose. “Then the flowers did you a favor.”

“THEY WERE THE REASON I WASN’T PERFORMING WELL IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

The blue haired woman took Keqing’s hands again. “And now they’re gone, for good this time?”

Keqing blinked once more. “‘This time’? What do you mean, ‘this time’--!”

Ganyu panicked and surged forward to kiss her. Keqing, not believing what was happening, halted all protests and sunk into it, ignoring the plastic tube in her nose and letting the scent of vanilla fill her senses.

When they broke away, it felt like an eternity had passed, but it wasn’t long enough, so they kissed again, and again and again until they were panting for air and the doctor returned with an amused smile. All thoughts slipped from Keqing’s usually buzzing mind and she found herself only focusing on the woman before her; the one she cared so much about for so long that flowers bloomed in her throat. With Ganyu by her side, Keqing didn’t have a care in the world. With Ganyu by her side, Keqing knew she was going to be just fine.

[champion-prism]

So Fine

Leon x F!Reader, Smut

Requested by anon: Hi! Could I request a childhood friends to lovers smut fic with Leon? Like Raihan, Leon, Sonia and Y/n were all rivals, and both raihan and y/n become the dragon type gym leaders, and the whole group parties together and drinks together, and it’s on one of those nights that Leon finally makes a move. (Female reader. Also I absolutely adore your fics They’re so well written💗 keep it up bb) 

A/N: a’ight so the partying bit is nonexistent and the drinking is mentioned only bc I’ve never partied and I hope I never will. Drink responsibly y’all. Or don’t drink at all, that is also okay. Also, everyone is coherent and everything in the fic is consensual.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: There’s NSFW up ahead!

The Wild Area is quiet, almost eerie in the silence of the night, broken by the soft sounds of childrens’ voices. 

 You and Leon sit around Charizard’s lit tail, warming yourselves before you head into your camp to turn in for the night. Leon is talking about how he wants to head in the direction of the Dusty Bowl- if he can find it.

  “Maybe I should try to get someplace that isn’t the Dusty Bowl,” he muses. “I’ll get lost and wind up there, instead.”

 You laugh as you ask him what he wants to go to the Dusty Bowl for.

  “I really want to catch a good Ground Type,” he explains. “Maybe a Tyranitar, or a Rhydon.”

 Your eyes light up at the mention of a Tyranitar.

 “Ooh, a Tyranitar?” you say. “Maybe we should go to the Dusty Bowl together, I’d love to look for a Tyranitar. One of the strongest dragon-types there is.”

 Leon shakes his head at you. 

 “Always with the dragon-types,” he says. “I have nothing against them, but shouldn’t you not be limiting yourself to a certain type? I mean...you might get KO’D in Ballonlea and Circhester.”

 You shake your head. 

 “I’m not going to have a full Dragon team yet,” you explain. “But eventually I’d like to phase over into one. I figured, if I can manage to get my hands on a Duraludon and a Charmander, that can take care of the Fairy and Ice weaknesses.”

 Leon scoots slightly closer to you. When he smiles, you can see his light blue braces. 

 “When I’m Champion,” he tells you, “I’ll get you all the rare Pokemon you want.”

   The rest of the night is spent teasing him lightly for his ambition, and Leon laughingly claiming you’ll be sorry for ever doubting him. He hesitates a bit when you both stand to go into your respective tents, and after a few seconds of bouncing on his heels, he moves forward, gives you a quick peck on the cheek, and practically runs into his tent. You giggle slightly as you call a good night to him. 

 He keeps his promise. When he becomes Champion, he proudly presents you with an egg- light orange in colour with red speckles. You thank him with a peck on the cheek and a giggle, and he throws his cap at you and runs away.

 Somehow, that’s how it stays. You become busy. You know Raihan is training hard to beat Leon, and you’re training hard to perfect your dragon type team. You travel all over Galar. You crawl along in the bushes and wade into ponds and spend god knows how many days in Axew’s Eye, raiding Dynamax dens to find a Noivern or a Sliggoo. When you hear from Leon, you tell him how well your now-evolved Charizard is doing.

 He travels abroad sometimes, brings you back exotic Dragon types. A Swablu from Hoenn, a Dratini from Kanto. He promises he’s going to get his hands on a Bagon someday, and you tell him not to go through too much trouble. He just gives you a peck on the cheek, tells you it’s no trouble, as long as it’s for you. 

 Chaste kisses on your cheek. One to say hello, one to say goodbye. A congratulatory kiss on the cheek when you become the Dragon type Gym Leader at sixteen (Raihan demands one, too- he gets a ghost kiss from Leon’s Dreepy). Leon’s cheeks don’t heat up when he does it, not anymore, nor is he flustered the way he was the first few times. You’re friends, affectionate friends who kiss each other on the cheek, glance at the other’s lips and look away, tuck loose strands of hair away from each other’s face, but keep yourself from playing with it. 

 You’re busy, you tell yourself. Much too busy to do anything than push away the schoolgirl crush you’ve always had on Leon, much too busy training and learning, much too busy to do anything but let the years pass, and here you are now, an adult, fully absorbed in the rhythm of daily life. 

 It’s one of your designated hangout nights. Leon’s in Hammerlocke to destroy Raihan in an exhibition match, and afterwards, you, Raihan, Sonia, and Leon head to one of the underground pubs, one of Raihan’s discoveries, and your personal favourite. Sonia is the most responsible, Raihan is the least- by the end of the night, she’s laughing at and guiding an obviously drunk Raihan into a taxi (non-Flying; can’t risk him puking down at people from the sky). You and Leon are moderate, lightly buzzed enough to feel good, not buzzed enough to be Raihan. You decide to just walk the empty streets, shoulders bumping into each others as you walk, the cold night air biting into your faces.

 Leon walks closer to you as he wraps an arm around your waist, sliding underneath the hem of your short top. You shiver and move closer to him, putting your own arm around him. The side of your face bumps against his shoulder and you giggle, both of you talking and wandering around Hammerlocke until you eventually reach the hotel where Leon is staying, at which point he looks up at it, and glances at you. 

  “It’s pretty cold out here,” he whispers. “Maybe we should just hang out inside.” 

He sways slightly, pressing his forehead against yours as his grip on your waist tightens. You nod your assent, and the two of you make your way up to his hotel room. 

  The atmosphere is different, here- Leon dims down all the lights before kicking his shoes off and collapsing on the bed, patting a spot beside him. You follow suit, resting against the headboard with your body angled towards Leon. His eyes rove up and down your form, coming up to meet your eyes and stare intently at you. 

 His eyes are lidded as he moves forward to give you a peck on the cheek. You giggle at him, and tip forward to return the favour, kissing the corner of his mouth. He says your name, close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek. 

 He kisses your forehead, and he doesn’t pull away before pressing another kiss to your cheek, and all at once you’re aware of the heat between the two of you; you ignore it in favor of kissing his chin, and kissing his cheek again, and that’s fine, because friends can give each other kisses, right?

  You’re just relaxed from the drinking and acting silly. 

 Leon leans forward and places a light kiss to your earlobe. His head dips as he kisses your neck, then pulls back to look at you.

 He’s staring at your lips, eyes lidded- your heart pounds as his hand comes up to cup your cheek, and he angles your face towards his.

 “Leon,” you breathe. 

His lips are soft on yours, barely there as they brush past your lips. Your lips part ever so slightly as you lean towards him, and he kisses you- a soft, closed kiss where you move your lips gently against his.

 There are warning bells going off in your head- Leon is your friend. Your childhood friend. This is one of those friendships that is supposed to last forever, and you really don’t want a patch of awkwardness between you because you ended up making out one night. Or...doing something else you might regret.

Your hands come up to rest against his chest as he deepens the kiss, and all the warning bells go off. Suddenly, you don’t know anything beyond how good it feels when he kisses you, hot and open mouthed and much more... desperate... than before. One of his hands is at your waist, pulling you closer as he adjusts himself so that he’s over you on the bed. His mouth leaves yours as he begins to kiss your jaw, tongue swiping against your jawline. His hand moves under your shirt, fingers pressing into your sides as he kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck. You moan slightly when you feel his teeth nip at the sweet spot on your neck, and his mouth moves to explore lower, a kiss pressed into your cleavage as he moves down to the swell of your breasts, tugging your collar down to expose more skin. 

 “Leon,” you say, breathing heavily. 

 Your voice seems to snap him out of it. He jerks his head back to look at you, golden eyes wide and searching as they look into yours. 

 “I’m- I-” he starts, sitting up. He swallows, and takes a deep breath.

 “Lee, I…” you sit up, too, reaching for his hands. “I don’t want for things to be awkward between us,” you say, ignoring every feral urge in you that tells you to pull him back over you and go wild. 

 “They won’t,” he says, breathing heavily as he stares at you, pupils dilated. “I like you,” he says,  moving forward to bury his face in your neck. 

 “I’ve liked you for years, now,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss on your skin. “And we don’t...we won’t do anything you don’t want to. I just need you to know I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I’m in- I...want you.”

  You press yourself closer to him, hands coming to clutch at his biceps. 

 “I like you, too, Lee,” you admit, whining slightly as he nips at your neck at your confession. He’s kissing your neck again, and you moan when you feel his tongue on you as his hands slip under the hem of your top, pressing into your skin just below your breasts.

 “Do you want to do this?” he asks between feverish kisses to your neck and shoulders. 

 “Ye-yes,” you manage, your head full of nothing but Leon right now- his scent, his warmth, the way his tongue feels on your skin, the way he’s leaving bites on your collarbone and neck, his hands pulling you closer- he presses into you so you lay back against the mattress, supporting himself with one arm as he tugs on your shirt with his other hand. 

 You pull your shirt off over your head, and watch as an almost feral expression takes over Leon’s face as he sees your clothed breasts. He’s on you in a second, one hand sliding underneath you to unhook your bra, the other tugging it off and throwing it to the side.

  “Fuck- yes,” he gasps, kissing your bare breasts and nipping gently at one, making you whimper. It makes heat pool in your stomach when he swears- Leon almost never swears, and you like this new side to him you’re seeing. 

 “I’ve wanted to see you like this forever,” he admits, squeezing a breast with one hand before his tongue flicks over your nipple. 

  “You have no idea,” he sucks your nipple into his mouth, tongue swishing around before he pulls away, “how much I’ve thought about this,” he comes up to press a hard kiss against your mouth “how long I’ve wanted you for,” he presses his hips against yours, making you moan.

 “Leon,” you moan out his name, bucking your hips against him, whining when he pulls back a bit and chuckles.

 “You look cute,” he tells you, an almost innocent smile on his face. “All flushed and warm, so needy for your Champion.”

 “Leon,” you gasp, hands tugging at his shirt, legs bending to wrap around his waist, trying to press into him.

  “Lee, don’t tease,” you whine, and he obliges, pulling his shirt over to his head, exposing his bare chest and stomach.

  He’s gorgeous. 

 You run your hands over his chest, making note of how he whines when your hands brush over his nipples. He presses his whole body against you, kissing your mouth, dipping his tongue in and moaning, clothed hips thrusting slightly against yours. 

  Your fingers hook into the waistband of his pants, tugging at them. He pulls back again, sitting on his calves as he tugs your pants off, tossing them away. You lie exposed in front of him in nothing but your dampening panties, and he gives you a smug look before kissing your stomach, going lower. 

 Your hands grip his hair as he begins to place butterfly kisses over your panties, teasingly biting the insides of your thighs from time to time. You plead with him for you don’t know what, an unbearable need for friction building in your intimates. 

  He darts his tongue out and begins to suck on your clothed clit, his face pressed between your legs. The wet spot on your panties grows, and you cry out for him as his thick fingers push your panties to a side and rub gently over your folds. 

 He pulls your panties off, eyes widening at the sight of your wet folds, swollen and puffy. 

  “Is this for me?” he asks, head tilted to a side as he looks up at you.

 You whimper and nod, bucking your hips.

 “Use your words, baby,” he says, nipping at your inner thigh. 

 “Leon- it’s for you. It’s all for you, I- ah!” you arch your back as he buries his whole face into your pussy, fingers rubbing at your clit as his tongue dips inside of you, moving around. 

  “Leon- oh, Lee,” you whisper, “I- ah- you feel so good-”

 You can feel your high building, your intimates pulsing as he eats you out like a starved man. When he pulls away, you nearly cry, desperately begging him to let you cum. 

  Your arousal shines on his mouth as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, wiping off his mouth with his hand. He smiles at you, that sweet smile of his, crawling over you as he kisses your body, one hand pushing down his pants. You glance down between your bodies to see his cock, dark red at the tip and leaking precum as he strokes it gently. 

  “I’m gonna make you feel good,’ he says, moving up to kiss your lips. “I love you,” he mumbles against your mouth, pressing another open kiss on you, “so much.”

 Your arms circle his neck as you pull him deeper into the kiss.

  “I love you, too,” you pull away, looking into his warm golden eyes. He kisses you again, your legs wrapping around his waist. His cock brushes gently against your wet pussy, and you press your fingers into the muscle of Leon’s back as he continues to kiss you softly and slowly.

 “You sure about this?” he asks, mouth against yours. 

 “Leon, please,” you say, your teeth lightly grazing his lip. “I need you.”

He presses his face against your shoulder as his cock pushes into your entrance, a strangled moan in your throat as you try to adjust to his size. He’s thick, and you mewl as he pushes in deeper, involuntarily clenching around him. 

 “Oh, fuck!” Leon gasps as you tighten around him, eyes wide and mouth gaping slightly.

 He takes his time pushing himself inside you, both giving you time to adjust to him, and giving himself time to savour you, the way your warm insides clench around him, the way you throb with your arousal, how tight and wet and perfect you are, even better than you were in his fantasies. He pulls back a little and pushes in deeper, kissing you all over your face as he rocks slowly into you, pace quickening when your nails dig into his back.

  “You’re- you’re so big, Lee,” you moan, heels pressing into his back. “I- oh- you feel so good.”

 You hear him breathe a laugh, and he licks over some of the marks he left on your throat. 

 He begins to move faster inside you, wet smacking sounds getting louder as he begins to lose himself to the pleasure. You arch your back and squeeze your eyes shut, moaning a chant of his name as he hits that perfect spot inside of you, your head going blank save for the building pleasure.

  His hand presses into your soft breast, and you drag your nails down his chest, making him cry out. You pinch and pull at his nipples, heat searing and your own pleasure spiking as his face contorts in bliss, groaning your name as you take his whole length.

  “I’m gonna- hah- ah! I’m gonna make you cum, baby, I’m-” his thrusts speed up, a hand going down to rub at your clit.

 You cry his name out louder as your high approaches, and he pounds into you, his gasps and moans mixing in with yours. He tells you you’re his, all his, that you belong to him, and you agree, throwing your head back as your pleasure peaks.

  You scratch down his back as the tension snaps, your orgasm washing over you as you pulse around his cock, his name on your lips. He rides you through your orgasm, wide eyed at the sight of your flushed face and chest, how brazenly lustful you look as you cum around him, pussy clenching tight. He pumps into you, and with one rough thrust, he presses his cock deep inside you and moans as he goes over the edge, rocking his hips against yours as he cums, spilling his seed deep inside you with a broken cry of your name.

 He almost collapses on you, face resting on your breast with his cock still twitching inside you as you both come down from your high. Leon’s breath fans over your heaving chest, and he slowly pushes himself up to pull out of you, keeping your legs apart to watch his cum drip out of your cunt. He almost wishes he could take a picture of you like this, looking so obscene, nipples perked and pussy leaking with his cum. 

  Your hands reach out to him as he gets off the bed, and he kisses you softly on the lips, telling you he’ll be right back to clean you up. He goes into the bathroom and emerges with a wet towel, cleaning you up as per his promise, tossing the towel away and snuggling into your naked body as you pepper soft kisses on each other, holding each other’s bare bodies tightly as sleep overtakes you.

[spencers-renaissance]

Honeysuckle

Summary: The BAU decide to head out for a picnic one summer afternoon, but they’re soon rudely interrupted by a bee sting and anaphylactic shock. Seeing Spencer carted off in an ambulance is not exactly how they expected the day to go.

Tags: whump, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, hurt spencer, friendship, medical conditions, severe allergic reactions

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid 

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Spencer had initially been wary of Penelope’s invitation to picnic in Meridian Hill Park one beautiful summer afternoon — he burned way too easily and didn’t like exposing himself to insects more than absolutely necessary — but as soon as she’d mentioned Derek was going, he’d given in. He wasn’t about to turn down an afternoon spent in the sun with his best friends and boyfriend. It was a rare day off for the team: one not even spent hanging by their phone expecting to be called in any minute, so they were all insistent on making the most of it. 

He’s the last one to arrive, spotting the others sat in the shade of an oak tree, already laughing as they get stuck into their first drinks of the afternoon. Despite his initial hesitations, as soon as he feels the sun on his face and sees his friends he’s immediately glad he turned up and he hurries over to join the rest of the team, his own contributions to the picnic in hand. 

“Pretty boy!” Derek shouts, grinning widely as he jumps up from his lazy position on the blanket to wrap Spencer in a hug, before pulling back slightly to kiss him. He can already tell he’s a little tipsy, and although Spencer doesn’t drink he has nothing against everyone else letting their hair down and having fun; God knows they deserve it. 

His relationship with Derek is only a few months old, and he still relishes every moment he gets to spend wrapped up in his arms.

“Hey guys.” His words are muffled slightly by Derek’s shoulder as his boyfriend is reluctant to let him go, but as soon as he’s released, he turns to match everyone’s wide grins. 

“Did you bring the strawberries?” Emily asks, levelling him with a faux-stern look that she can’t maintain for long, melting back into her relaxed smile soon enough.

“Of course.” He takes a seat on the picnic blanket only to be immediately wrapped into a side hug by Penelope. He hugs back before beginning to unpack his bag.

“What about the icing sugar?” she asks, and her stern glare isn’t fake at all: Spencer knows how seriously Penelope takes a) organisation, and b) sweet treats.

“Who do you take me for?” he laughs, retrieving the fruit and sugar from his bag and taking a swig of the cool lemonade he’d packed in his thermos. 

Sometimes he wishes he could go back in time and show lonely, teenage Spencer pictures of days like these. One day, he’ll be twenty six, working at his dream job, and spending his days off in the warmth of the East Coast sun one Sunday afternoon surrounded by his best friends, kissed by his boyfriend at every opportunity. They’ve never asked him to be anything other than exactly who he is, inviting them into their group and doting on him relentlessly, loving him just as much as he loves them. 

It’s a luxury you only appreciate when you’ve known the loneliness of summer: when the hum of the AC is the only sound in your stuffy, humid dorm room, and you’re researching the effects of methane on winter weather patterns as you long for cold weather again, because then at least then you don’t have to listen to the excited shouts of friends outside anymore, then it’s acceptable to isolate yourself inside with only yourself and books for company.

He shakes himself out of his miserable recollections and reminds himself to be in the present. Emily has her head in Penelope’s lap as they discuss which incarnation of Doctor Who is the best while JJ and Derek discuss the new jogging park opening up across the border in Virginia. He knows which conversation is more suited to his interests and immediately goes up to bat for the Seventh Doctor, which manages to engage him in a spirited debate with both women. 

Soon, though, they find themselves all discussing their workplace embarrassments and recalling the funniest moments from over the last few years, and Spencer loses himself in the heat of the afternoon and the warmth of his friendships. He’s gorged himself on all the strawberries and sandwiches he could stomach, and as the afternoon stretches longer and evening approaches he lies down on the blanket and rests his head in Derek’s lap, mirroring Penelope and Emily. His eyes flutter closed as his full belly and heat of the sun tire him out, and Derek’s fingers thread themselves through Spencer’s long hair, a light and welcome touch. 

The haze of his friends still chatting around him as he dozes comfortably is interrupted, however, when he feels a sharp pinch on his wrist and seconds later, he’s fighting for breath. He launches upright, wheezing as he claws at his chest, trying desperately to fill his lungs with enough air. 

“Spencer? Oh my God, Spencer, what’s wrong?” Penelope cries, immediately by his side as she looks him over frantically, not knowing what’s happening. 

“Derek, call an ambulance,” JJ directs, taking charge as she rushes to Spencer’s side as well. “He’s in anaphylactic shock. Spencer, listen to me, do you have your epi-pen with you?”

Her words manage to get through the panicked haze and light-headedness as he can’t get enough oxygen. He can feel his face swelling and his heart racing, but he’s still coherent enough to point to his bag. 

“He didn’t eat anything, though,” Emily says, panicked and confused as she watches her friend have a medical crisis while she’s powerless to help. 

“He’s allergic to bees,” JJ says, keeping calm as she prepares the epi-pen and administers it to Spencer’s thigh. “One must have stung him for some reason.”

“There!” Penelope points to the bee sting on Spencer’s wrist and JJ lunges for her bag, rummaging until she finds her credit card which she uses to carefully slide under the stinger and remove it, preventing any more venom from flowing into Spencer’s system.

It’s clear after a few minutes that the epi-pen hasn’t worked: Spencer still feels like he can’t catch his breath and the world is fading slowly as his heart beats out of control and his organs can’t get enough oxygen. 

He feels himself be moved gently by various hands as JJ directs the others until he’s leaning up as comfortably as possible against Derek’s chest as Penelope elevates his legs to keep blood flowing to his vital organs. 

“It’s okay, Spencer,” JJ says loudly, right in front of his face. It’s blurry and out of focus and he can feel himself losing consciousness fast. “The ambulance is on its way.” 

It’s the last thing he hears before he collapses completely as he passes out. 

⭐️

It’s dark outside when Spencer finally wakes up. His bed is warm and comfortable and he lets himself listen to the somewhat comfortable steady beeps of the heart monitor and movement of staff and patients around the ward before finally opening his eyes to scan his room. 

Derek’s sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair right next to his bed, sketching what Spencer can only guess are plans for the property he’s just taken on, an empty jello cup balancing on the armrest of his chair. 

“Sandwiches and strawberries not fill you up?” he asks, voice croaky as he cracks an eye open. He can’t help but smile, too. He has the best boyfriend and the best friends anyone could ever hope for.

Derek’s head snaps up as he hears Spencer’s voice, setting his notebook and jello aside to grab for Spencer’s hand. “You are something else,” he chuckles. “Your first thought when coming round from a medical disaster is an observation of my eating patterns.” He shakes his head fondly. “ But you know I can’t pass up a tub of jello.”

“That’s true. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you say no when it’s offered.”

“You’re one to talk, pretty boy.” 

They lapse into short silence, accompanied only by the quiet beeps of the machines. “Sorry I scared you,” he whispers eventually, feeling guilt wrap itself around his stomach. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not your fault.” Derek looks sincere as he holds Spencer’s hand tighter, careful of the IV in his wrist. “The doctors… they said it was a severe attack, which is probably why the first epi-pen didn’t work. They’re monitoring you overnight to make sure there was no damage to your kidneys, I think. I’ll go find a doctor to tell them you’re awake.”

He moves to get out of his seat, but Spencer pulls him back down, as well as he can when he’s still feeling weak. “No, just… don’t leave,” he asks, his voice coming out a little too pleading for his liking. “Stay.”

The idea of being alone right now twists his stomach; the idea of being without Derek so desperately scary. 

“Okay, okay, baby,” Derek relents, sitting back down and running a soothing hand through his tangled hair, Spencer’s eyes fluttering closed at the contact. “I won’t go anywhere if you don’t want me to.” Instead, he presses the button for the nurse. 

“Where are the others?” Spencer dares to ask after a few seconds of quiet. 

“The nurses weren’t too happy with four people in here,” Derek chuckles. “I’ve been updating them by text; I’ll tell them you’re awake in a minute. JJ saved your life, you know. None of us had any clue what was happening but she was the only one who kept calm and the only one who got us through those awful minutes waiting for the ambulance to show up.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I told her I was allergic to bee stings years ago. It was just an off-hand comment, it never feels like that big a deal… this is only the third time this has ever happened. I guess I don’t feel the need to bring it up.”

“Well that off-hand comment saved your life, pretty boy.” Derek squeezes his eyes closed for a second, and when he opens them the emotion written on his face is heart-wrenching. “God, I can’t believe I could’ve lost you. There were a good few minutes there when I didn’t think you were gonna make it and after… Tobias… I was just so scared.”

Spencer’s stomach clenches at that, imagining the roles reversed is terrifying just as a hypothetical. He can’t even begin to imagine how Derek felt. He reaches a hand out to touch Derek’s face gently, squeezing his hand with the other. “But you didn’t lose me,” he murmurs. “I’m here, I’m  okay.” 

“Yeah.” His voice is barely a whisper as his eyes close again. “Is it bad that I kind of want bees to go extinct now?” he asks with a wet chuckle a few moments later.

“Derek!” Spencer laughs weakly, acting scandalised. “Bees are fundamental to the global ecosystem. Civilisation would effectively collapse if bees went extinct, it’s definitely not worth eradicating bees for the sake of me avoiding the rarity of anaphylactic shock, not according to the laws of proportionality. It’s actually frightening how fast the bee population is depleting though… did you know that there are only about 2.5 million honey-producing hives left in the US? That’s down from 4.5 million in 1980 and the loss has largely been attributed to colony collapse disorder—”

“Ah, Doctor Reid, you’re awake.” A smiling nurse bustles through the door and comes to check his vitals, fiddling with one of his IVs before taking a step back. “How’s your breathing? Is the nasal cannula okay or would you prefer a full mask?”

“The cannula’s good,” he says, smiling politely. Really, he just wants to get back to telling Derek all the bee facts he can recall. He has some really good ones itching to be let out. “I’m breathing fine, just feel a little weak still.”

“Good. Your vitals all look stable, so a doctor will be round in the morning to talk you through your treatment and medication. Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine, thank you,” Spencer nods, and she gives them one last smile before leaving the room and sliding the door shut quietly behind her.

“I should bring her back in,” Derek chuckles as the nurse leaves the room. “She missed out on your bee lecture. Fascinating stuff.”

“Shut up,” Spencer huffs, sinking back against the pillows. “You don’t deserve to hear my bee facts.”

“No,” Derek protests, grinning widely. “I’m joking, baby, carry on. You were telling me about colony collapse disorder.”

Spencer knows that, of course — he does have an eidetic memory after all — but it makes him smile that Derek remembers exactly where he was in his spiel. Maybe Penelope’s onto something when she says that Derek is “whipped” for him. (It had taken at least fifteen minutes for Spencer to fully understand what she meant by that, mostly because he kept asking about the etymology, history, and statistical usage of the word and she kept rolling her eyes, which he would then insist was not an answer.)

“Colony collapse disorder is depressing,” Spencer sighs, feeling quite tired all of a sudden. “I don’t feel like explaining it.”

“It doesn’t sound great.” Derek goes back to threading his fingers through Spencer’s hair. “Why don’t you tell me your favourite three bee facts, and then you can go back to sleep”

Spencer hums, giving it a bit of thought before replying. “Scientists trained bees to score goals in bee soccer in return for a sugary treat, which is especially interesting because they have brains the size of a poppy seed. They communicate with one another by wiggling their butts. It’s like their own language, they tell their nestmates where to go to get the best food. Bees also live in loads of different places, not just in the countryside. My favourite place they live is in marshes and wetlands, because I love insects that live in watery areas.”

“I’d pay to watch bees play soccer,” Derek laughs quietly. “You’re so smart, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Spencer sighs happily. “Love you,” he murmurs, eyes closing against the exhaustion. 

“I love you more.”

Spencer isn’t awake long enough to argue with him.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith 

[janiedean]

hey ignore this if you're done with the cersei discourse but do you think it's sexist that grrm gave jaime the redemption arc and cersei the downfall arc? and do you consider the addition of melara to be a shitty thing because it implies that she was evil along instead of being who she is because of the way the patriarchy affected her and stuff

in order:

do you think it's sexist that grrm gave jaime the redemption arc and cersei the downfall arc? no because grrm has nine different female pov characters all of which are wildly different and c. is the only one with the downfall arc, also there’s shit male chars, shit female chars, nice male chars, nice female chars, if she was the only female char he had then yikes but she’s not so ppl can miss me with that argument if you have a variety of well written female chars then you’re not misogynistic if one is a villain

and do you consider the addition of melara to be a shitty thing because it implies that she was evil along instead of being who she I would like to state that a) if c. has narcissism then the fact that she was like that from the beginning would be coherent with that diagnosis, b) c. is a privileged af rich noblewoman who was in a best position to use/fight the patriarchy and she didn’t so I’m extremely skeptical about ‘the patriarchy ruined her’, c) some people are actually that shitty and the thing is that the patriarchy doesn’t turn you into someone who sees everyone as ‘what they can do for me’ and not ‘they’re people with feelings’ c. has a lot of patriarchy issues which made her worse, but like bro the patriarchy wasn’t who made her sexually molest tyrion (canon), we can argue that some of that is parental abuse but like melara is there to show you exactly that c. is a villain that grrm is not interested in redeeming, the end, and in that context there’s nothing misogynistic abt it because guess what grrm has written a bunch of other female chars that are not like that and that he actually likes writing

addendum 1: all women in asoiaf are victims of the patriarchy, arianne is a victim of the patriarchy in almost a specular way, arianne is not c., do the math

addendum 2: catelyn is also a vitim of the patriarchy in a way extremely similar to c’s except she didn’t marry a king, do you see cat gleefully sending other women to be tortured? nah. some women also have internalized misogyny which c. is way more about thanks

addendum 3: grrm has at least another two chars like c. (royd’s mother in nightflyers and that celise in tuf voyaging) in his body of work I mean they’re... least well developed but they’re about like that. I’ve... met people like c. (including the one who slapped me in the face) which lived in this day and age in the western world so sorry but we’re not in a medieval patriarchal society and I can 100% assure you those ppl weren’t like that bc patriarchy. grrm is most likely at his ripe age still coping abt someone like c. who most likely gave him some trauma back in the seventies. having known some like them, I wholly do not blame him if he doesn’t want to give them the redemption arc. and even if he didn’t, he’s not obligated to give anyone redemption arcs especially when c. is not the only female char he writes.

also, if reading re melara someone thinks ‘ah she exists to make c. look bad’ and not ‘no one deserves to die for a crush’ i think I don’t want particularly engage with them. /shrug

also, add-on: asking ‘is grrm sexist’ in general when he writes all female chars with a different personality, managed to write a mother figure that’s not like the usual drivel, managed to do two gnc women pov that aren’t the same character which today is like... extra rare still, got the ‘growing up as a notstandardattractive girl’ experience way better than any other female writer I know and so on when this entire fandom hates catelyn bc of one shitty thing she did which she had her reasons for and like for all she wished jon would die in her grief for bran sure af didn’t send him to get killed like c. did with all of robert’s bastards and that’s imvho way more sexist than whatever grrm can have written ever is honestly really rich and I’m saying it in general not to you anon but like ‘grrm is sexist’ is a take that I can’t take seriously anymore and it’s been like... almost ten years I’m tired XD

[zero-violence]

So I guess I’m writing this because if Jon deserves closure from me I sure as fuck deserve closure from you.  Please bare with me since I’ve seem to have lost the ability to write coherently.  Don’t worry I’m only passing this single note to you and no one else and would prefer you not share it. 

(each marked break represents a day in which I wrote here.  This took awhile to put together.)

***

I wrote something here about myself.  Personal information about my past that I wanted to share with you.  But I deleted it.  I never delete or edit or change or even rewrite things that I write.  I wanted them to exist as written like paint on the canvas.  Every mistake part of the greater art I had made.  But you taught me something.  Something I didn’t know could happen.  You taught me that my words could be misheard.  Could be changed and twisted to what someone else wanted.  They could turn my words upside down and whiteout every thing in between.  They could burn away my words.  Reach into my chest and squeeze my heart from the words I put on this page.  

I’m deleting the words about myself and my life. I don’t trust them with you anymore.  I don’t know what you mite cut away to fit your own selfish needs.  

(deleted)

(deleted)

(deleted)  

(deleted)

***

You said it was something that always happened to her and she hated it. 

You said don’t do it. 

You said lay off. 

I never listened to you like I should of.  

I keep falling back and forth between this whole.

I had to find out on my own.  I had to make my own choices. 

And. 

I should of buried myself deep and pretended there was nothing wrong with me and kept my friends a little longer.  

Honestly. 

The most honest way to word it. 

I wanted... I want to

I want to hurt myself so desperately so you would never have to.  

I’m going to be writing this over a long period of time and my laptop crashes a lot.  I don’t know if I ever really plan on sending this to you or not.  I don’t know why i want to send this to you.  I mean I wanted to write a suicide letter but this seemed more productive to be honest. 

Rather punch life in the face than admit defeat. 

I don’t blame you for not caring as much as I did.  From my side you were my longest lasting friend who was closest to me.  From your side I was just friend number like 56.  Just another video game guy.  Just another weird person.  Just another one.....My biggest regret are all the words I said during the end that you seemed to ignore.  I did love you.  I genuinely loved you so fucking much.  I couldn’t imagine a week going by without hanging out with you.  I know you had other friends and a job and a life.  But but but I’m not sure right now I have to sleep soon and my emotions have been punching me in the chest all weekend.  Till another day i guess. 

***

I wasn’t going to write here today but someone said you were happy now and I was happy for you.  I’ll try and remember this whenever I get mad at you.  

***

Hi, its me again.  This is turning into some kind of journal entry at this point and I’m not really sure anymore if I’m going to sneak this to you or not.  I mean its going to expose my name change which is probably already known.  But,.  No Its going to expose anything else.  I don’t even know if you’ll read down this far let alone read beyond this page and take a look what's behind the curtain.  I personally wouldn’t do that its a dark place. 

I have all this anger in me directed at you but if these are my last words I really don’t want them to be that way.  

Maybe I’m wrong.

I mean wrong is something you know really well..  Sorry, I couldn’t segway this very well into the next point of my writing. 

You told me Jon would never chase after me.  Its not the kind of person he is.  Jon turned up one night and demanded closure.  Maybe we were closer than you said we were.  We talked but I gently pushed him away like everyone else.   I don’t want you to hate them because there talking to me.  I don’t want you to get upset or angry.  I whole heartedly mean this.  I know these people want to be friends with you and her.  I don’t want to ruin that for them.  I unfriended, blocked, and deleted them for you.  I don’t want them to lose you like I did.  Its not been a good time.  

You told me she wouldn’t just let me go.  She would chase and cling onto me.  That I couldn’t just walk away.  You were wrong.  She let go and pushed away.  It was really that easy.   I don’t know how you got both of these wrong.  

You said I would be ok. 

I’m not. 

I’m not.

I’m not at all ok. 

Sometimes I wonder if you can’t fathom or comprehend or even sympathize these feelings.  I get that you haven’t had many bad things happen to you.  But when someone says they love you why can’t you understand.  I know who popped into your head just now.  Because it wasn’t me.  I honestly don’t think you heard me each time I said it.  

My own mother would be jealous of you.  

I never say those words to people.  

People say them to me and I always reply back with.

“I love me too”.  

If not also

“Yeah I’m pretty great”. 

I used to call it self love because self love was the only love I had.  

The above statements mite be confusing but I’m not here to dip into my relationship with my family right now. 

I’m just here to talk at this wall in front me trying desperately to reach the other side of it,  I’ve been using the word desperately a lot lately.  I am very obviously desperate.  Desperate to live.  Desperate to exist.  Desperate to avoid an end by my own hands. 

I have this deep deep deep hatred for the end of all this.  I don’t believe, well anything anymore.  I don’t believe your tears or sadness.  Just a façade to make her not angry at you.  It would never happen again because you would never let me back again.  You had won.  I was gone.  And she stopped being angry at you one tear at a time.  It must of been easy to get better knowing you would never have to deal with the consequences of your actions. 

Promise that you would never do it again.  

What a fucking empty fucking promise.  

Do you smile every day?  Laugh even? Enjoy life with others?

It must be nice to not be alone.  

It didn’t cost you much did it. 

***

Its like venting.  I really doubt that I’ll ever give this to you.  Just somedays.  Ok like every day.  I miss you a lot.  I hate how it ended.  This is the part of me that wants to grab the knife and stab myself while I smile back at you.  Its ok don’t worry.  It doesn’t hurt that much.  I always wanted one of these.  Only my best friend would know I always wanted this.  And usually around this point I can collapse into a fit of tears.  I’m probably going to lay down and just fall apart as a person.  I do that from time to time. Day to day.  Don’t worry too much about it.  At least times like this all this loneliness fades to the background and I’m left with the crippling pain of everyone being gone.  And everything is just a a void a blur a just constant dark room with the lights off and laying in bed so long it hurt and I can’t even fall asleep anymore.  I mean it got really bad.  I had to force myself to goto my doctors appointment.  I don’t know a lot of people are worried about me and I barely even show whats wrong with me and there just extremely worried about me.  Which worries me what would happen if I actually showed how I was to them.  

Sorry I’m just not not good right now.  I’m sorry.   I should stop talking before I start apologizing non stop till im crying. im sorry.

***

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***

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***

I keep having this constant thought today.  That maybe your a nice people.  And you removed a negative from me hoping it would create a positive.  And it just left this neutral area.  Like just because what’s pulling me down goes away doesn’t mean I suddenly go up or even eventually go up.  I just stay where it left me.  All the way down here.  The same horrible place I was in a month ago. Existing at the edge of wishing it was worse so I could have an excuse to die. 

***

“ Anybody can look at you. It's quite rare to find someone who sees the same world you see. “

***

I want to drown

***

I’ve thought about this.  I still want to drown.

***

I don’t know in what world you think its ok to just hurt someone.  And that walking away from the problem you helped make will just go away because you can’t see it anymore.  Someone loves you and your just this horrible human being.  You didn’t just take yourself away you took everyone around you away.  And left this person.  Left me all alone.  This isn’t how you take responsibility.  This isn’t how you heal.  This isn’t how you overcome.  This isn’t how fix what is broken.  You don’t throw it outside and hope it goes away.  Its fucking burned against my skin.  I’m screaming where no one can hear me.  And I’m just non existent to you.  I’m dead.  I went off to the farm where I’ll be happy with a whole new group of friends.  Right?  Life will go on.  Right?  Sometimes I take the knife out and think about it.  So many choices.  I could finish it far better than you.  Just a slit across my neck.  And I would truly be gone.  Never a worry in your life again.  I could just put it back in my chest so much more painfully than you.  But at times like this.  Days like this.  I think about removing it from my own chest.  And gently setting it back where it belongs.  Right back in you.  I really don’t deserve this pain from you.   But I think you do.  I hope the lies pile up.  I hope your twisted emotions pile up.  I hope the fear and doubt you placed in everyone piles up.  I hope you end up in this same place you put me.  All alone.  With a knife in your chest.  And you don’t know what to do with it.  And you scream.  You yell for help.  And it only echoes back at you.  And all you ever loved is removed from your life.  Because you couldn’t overcome something that seemed so small to you.  But bigger than this world to everyone else.  I hope it hurts deeply.  I hope it hurts too much.  I hope its the last thing will ever share together.  

This is funny to me.  Because I know your not that deep of a person to be hurt that way.  And even if this happened.  You would be too blind to it to even notice.  And the people around you would never stab you like that.  Just let you exist in vague little bit of grey life.  Pretending to share in that empty happiness that you have.  Pretending its real.  Because they don’t know any better.  And there too afraid to find out if its real or not. 

Enjoy the happiness you find on the back of all this pain.  I just want you to know you lied.  And you’ll never be capable of telling the truth.  There just words you say to make them not angry at you.  Because that’s the only way you could make them happy.  Or not mad at you.  I think the guilt of them being angry hurt you more than you taking away the happiness.  I think you only thought about your own happiness when you promised you would never do this to her again.  

I think we confused you being a happy person with you being a selfish person. There not one in the same.  You just suck up everyone else’s happiness around you.  And enjoy life putting everyone else’s needs below your own.  Even if you think I’m wrong.  You’ll just be lying.  But only for a little bit.  Because you’ll stop caring shortly and not even bother with lying.  Letting the problem drift away pretending its been solved because its gone.  Forgetting so much that you won’t even know its on the back of everyone's mind when they think of you, interact with you, and talk to you.   

That you mite hurt them too.

So no one will ever push too hard on you. 

And you’ll never experience a deep closeness with someone ever again.  

Handling you gently.  In case you throw a tantrum and decide they aren’t allowed in your life anymore.  

I don’t want this knife anymore I think. 

Please take it back. 

***

Man, I feel guilty thinking about her as a friend the same way people feel guilty talking to me once because of you.  Can’t even think about people we care about without the guilt that you mite get upset about it.  

***

I really doubt you’ll do this or care or feel some deep yearning to be a better person.  But I know other people have a little bit more humanity within them than you.  

 But if you feel some greater sense of self and feel she needs to hear something from me  Just let her read this.  

“Don't worry soon ill be someone you cant remember and I'll forget you easily. Ill disappear and ill never exist for you no matter how hard you try to remember. You'll have a happy life. Its going to be ok. I won’t exist in a way that you can think about. Only a memory.  I refuse to be more than that.  Goodbye. “

***

I was supposed to write something nice here but I’m not sure I can do that. 

Maybe if I pause a moment something will come out.  Something that will bring a smile to you.  Something that doesn’t stab and punch at you.  

Maybe not though. 

I’m going to disappear.  Be someone unable to be reached. In person.  Online.  In memory.  I won’t even let her remember me.  Change my favorite color.  Burn my favorite books.  Be someone that only exists to her in fiction.  A story someone once told her.  Something that was never real.  Can you be jealous of a fictional character? I bet you would find a way.  

She won’t even be able to remember me.  Not a single person around you will ever even allowed to experience my existence.  Not a word from me.  Not even a sound.  Something less than a ghost.  

And I hope. 

I hope and I pray so fucking much. 

That the voice at the back of your head goes away.  And you never hear it again.   And if another voice comes into the back of your head I pray for the ones around you. 

If this is the cost of your peace of mind than I’ll pay it ten fold for you.  I’ll stab and bleed out for you.  You have to live your life.  You need to live your life.  I hope one fucking day you realize all the things she does to chase after you.  All the bits of your existence she’s been copying all this time that you never noticed.  You should really try and be more healthy for her sake.  Be a little more responsible.  No one is going to take care of you but you.  Be stronger.  She follow along right behind you like a child.  You mite not notice.  But she’ll pick up the same weight you do and try and be strong too.  She’s infatuated with you. 

Be someone worth all that love.  Don’t flinch before this daunting task.  Stand strong. Head up.  Look forward. And you walk.  One step at a time.  

You do the small things.

Stop ordering out less.  And she will too.

Start saving money And she will too.

Exercise so you live longer.  And she will too. 

Be out going.  And she’ll be right behind you jumping with joy. 

Its time you make a life.  And drown out all those demons in your head. 

I don’t think you’ll read down this far.  I don’t think twchh will give this to you for me.  I think you’ll refuse it in a fit of rage if you even look at it.  And if you even open this and start to read.  A tantrum will erupt from you and my words will be lost beneath your rage once again.  

Its how I motivate myself to disappear so easily.  Because well. 

Like you said. 

You wont chase after me.  

So if for good or bad.  Worse or ugly. Whatever mistakes I make from here on out.  I do it with the thought that I won’t exist and I won’t hurt you anymore.  You’ll be happy.  I’m constantly agitated with the thought of the things I need to do so I can disappear fully.  Burn this, buy that, cut here, and bleed out over there.  It takes a lot to change yourself.  I guess you were right about that.  

If you somehow read this far.  I want to thank you.  For what short time we spent together.  I shouldn’t apologize anymore.  But I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better person for you.  I want you to be happy and I wrote all of these words out of love for you.  And if given the option I would do it all over again.  Yesterday, today, 10 years from now.  I would let you stab into me all over again.  Don’t be scared of hurting me.  Don’t be upset that you did.  I’m endless.  I’m forever.  I couldn’t die if I wanted too.  The world won’t allow my escape.  It requires more from me. Sorry this is getting so dark but this is the brightest my days get. 

Goodbye who was once a friend. 

Goodbye who was once more than just that. 

So much more. 

Goodbye 

***

***

***

By the way I’m still giving you a birthday gift if I can figure out how to make it work.  That’s more for me than you.  I wanted to give it you before your trip so you had some extra pocket cash but I couldn’t get the money together in time.  I want to do this because I’m not a liar. You were my  friend and I wanted to give you a birthday gift. 

Anyways I’m going to see if someone will give this to you now.  

[themurphyzone]

PatB/BatB AU: If I Can’t Love Him Ch 1

Summary: Sequel to Imprisoned and part of the PatB BatB AU.

The Beast knows he’s too far gone, in too deep to ever have hope of regaining what he lost. But one action leads to another, and through a series of mistakes, discovers he may have been wrong about so many things.

Pinky is running for his life. He knows he made a promise, and he finds the servants charming, but he can’t stay. The castle was not and will never be his home. But things aren’t always as they appear.

AN: OK ok technically the disastrous dinner request does happen first (as of posting this first chapter, the dinner request scene has not been written yet but I do hope to get around to it), but I just wanna write the West Wing and its aftermath ok lemme have my angst.

This will be a 4 chapter story, each chapter named for a lyric from If I Can’t Love Her from the BatB Broadway musical. It’s a really heartwrenching song and every time I hear it I just wanna hug poor Beast.

AO3 Link

Ch 1: Careless and Unthinking

The Beast heard music drifting from the large dining room, traveling along the wind until it reached his usual haunt on the castle roof just above the West Wing.

Though he was too far to properly hear the lyrics, he recognized that irritatingly catchy melody to Be a Pest, a song the Warner siblings performed on a semi-regular basis ever since the curse upended their lives.

He should’ve known the Warners wouldn’t leave the prisoner alone in his room to starve.

The Beast huffed, a misty cloud forming in the frigid air.

He wasn’t sure why he said that when he didn’t actually want the prisoner to starve. It was counterproductive to breaking the curse.

And that mouse was far too foolish to suit his purposes. Arguing every order, determined to defy him at every turn, uncaring of self-preservation when he skipped into the castle and announced his presence without the slightest attempt at stealth.

Not that anyone else bothered to heed his orders, despite his higher station, but it was especially irritating from someone who was supposed to be a prisoner.

Surely all his hopes of regaining his rightful position weren’t dependent on an idiot whose head was permanently up in the clouds!

Rage mounted in the depths of his deformed body, and though he tried to hold back, he couldn’t stop the primal roar that worked its way past his throat.

It echoed off the trees, a flock of faraway birds taking to the air to get away from a perceived predator.

He struck the roof with one clawed, oversized hand. Several loose tiles spiraled into the abyss below.

The rush of adrenaline was overwhelming. It felt good to be so powerful. His old body was woefully lacking in strength and height.

He’d never been able to climb onto the roof before. A mouse was far too small and fragile to ever attempt something so death-defying.

Nor was he able to tear furniture apart so easily. But now he could.

Give in, a voice whispered, sweet and tempting and malicious all at once. Why resist your anger? Give in now, and you won’t be hurt ever again. I promise.

Anger was the only emotion worth feeling. It was blissful to not experience anything other than splintered wood and torn cloth under his claws. No worries, doubts, or fears to hold him back. When his thoughts became nothing but a simplistic chant of destroy, destroy, destroy.

Then all coherent thought would cease, and only instincts were left.

But anger was a fickle companion. It would encourage him, drive him forward, yet it would suddenly flee. It didn’t stay with him in the wake of his destruction.

And the guilt came.

His shortsightedness robbed everyone of a comfortable life. Nobody was spared. Not the innocent toddler, not the orphans or stray animals seeking a safe haven, nor the regular household staff.

On that first long, horrible night, he’d promised to break the curse. They’d be back to normal before they knew it, and they’d only remember it as one odd, terrifying nightmare.

But his plan didn’t work. And he made that promise again. Then his next plan failed before he set it into motion.

Tomorrow night. I’ll break it tomorrow night for sure.

For the past five years, he made that same promise every night.

But the curse wasn’t broken. The nightmare wasn’t complete.

Every plan failed. He tried everything.

That is, he tried everything except for the condition laid out from the very beginning.

The beautiful witch’s voice haunted him, mocking him through every waking hour and dream, taunting him with fate-sealing roses and mirrors that reflected the monster he was.

“If you can find somebody to love, and earn their love in return, my enchantment upon your castle shall be lifted. Fail in your quest, and you shall remain a beast for all time.”

The condition was an open secret in the castle, though only the Warners dared to bring up the topic within his vicinity.

He laughed, but it was a harsh, guttural laugh, completely devoid of joy.

Love? How could he possibly love anyone?

Love only brought pain.

As a foolish child, he loved his parents.

Then they abandoned him in favor of the lavish court. His existence was a scandal unto itself, and he was secreted away to a province with little royal oversight.

He let out an ugly snarl, cruel fangs digging into his upper lip.

The harsh, unnatural sound only served as a reminder that nobody would ever love him back. His mind, which once held ideas on how to reclaim his throne and improve life in this neglected province, was now dull and dimming further by the day.

He couldn’t read or invent anymore. His hands were too large for the delicate machinery, his claws ripping apart everything he touched. He barely remembered how to stand on two legs, and the few times he tried, he quickly lost his balance and had no choice but to stalk the hallways on all fours, stripped of all dignity.

Intelligence was all he had. And even that would be gone soon.

Nobody wanted a dumb, slavering, mud-colored beast for a lover.

A chilly wind blew snow into his fur, startling him out of his ponderings. The night had quickly grown dark and cold, the land below shrouded in an early winter. The moon and stars were hidden by thick, low clouds.

He didn’t hear any music. The prisoner had likely eaten his fill by now.

The silence unnerved him.

It was quiet on the rooftop, but without the background noise of the servants working or screaming from the unfortunate souls who were assigned Warner or Mindy duty, it was far too quiet for comfort.

When it was silent, the most unwelcome thoughts nagged at his deteriorating mind.

He sighed, regretting his decision to ponder on the roof this long. But then, it seemed his entire life was just one bad decision after another, so he was hardly bothered.  

Stretching his sore limbs, he carefully gripped the slippery tiles as he descended down to the West Wing balcony. The wind whipped at his cape, and his exposed fur stood on end to keep his body warm.

This body was more resistant to the cold, able to endure conditions any weak, normal mouse would hide themselves from.

He was powerful.

But that thought quickly came to an end.

He lost his grip on a handhold, sliding several inches on the slippery stone.

The brief scare made whatever remained of his shriveled heart leap in fear, and he was reminded that regardless of physical prowess, he was still mortal.

On some nights, being mortal was a good thing.

He took hold of a thick, tangled growth of ivy that crept up the stone walls over the years, so thick that even his sharp claws couldn’t cut through it. The servants had valiantly battled the plants over the years, but there was only so much they could do.

The castle would crumble once the curse took hold permanently and become nothing more than a relic lost to time.

He crept down the ivy to the West Wing balcony, allowing the mysterious, cruel light of the enchanted rose to guide him to safety in the darkness.

Brooding over a rose and making doomed plans in the vain hope of breaking this curse.

That’s all he was good for these days.

Just as he set foot on the balcony, his ears perked at the sound of footsteps within his chambers. He growled quietly to himself.

He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the Warners’ antics tonight. Not when their advice proved little use against the prisoner’s stubborn refusal to have dinner with him.

But the footsteps sounded…different. Lighter.

Not brassy like Yakko’s, wooden like Wakko’s, or clinking like Dot’s.

The Beast inhaled sharply.

No.

It couldn’t be.

His prisoner was an idiot, but surely he wouldn’t break the only rule he’d been given. He should’ve been thanking the Beast for his leniency with the guidelines to follow for his stay within the castle property.

Don’t go into the West Wing.

But the mouse was right before his eyes, still on the far side of the room, twirling around in awe at the torn draperies, splintered wood, and haphazard bedding.

“Narf. This room could use a good sweep. I’ve seen pigsties cleaner than this!” the mouse tsked, shaking his head at the sorry state of the West Wing.

Really? The Beast wanted to scream. That’s your main concern right now?

Never mind that the West Wing was a grim testament to just how far he’d fallen, the shadowed lair of a beast, the broken décor scattered and abused throughout the years because it felt so good to lash out at something without guilt, and his prisoner commented on the mess of all things?

His claws brushed against a shard from a broken vase, and he sullenly flicked it aside. The ceramic remains skittered across the balcony.

Alright, so maybe the West Wing was a little messy…

An odd sense of embarrassment washed over him.

He crouched behind a thick tangle of ivy, feeling very much like a predator lying in wait for unsuspecting prey. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to do anything, and the mouse would just leave on his own.

The mouse picked his way through the West Wing, stopping to gawk at a shredded mattress and pile of ragged blankets that served as the Beast’s bed. He plucked at a strip of fabric that had fallen on the floor, and the Beast growled lowly. His sleeping area wasn’t a spectacle.

It was simply where he woke up from a nightmare, only to find that he never truly left.  

The mouse gasped, his ears twitching. For a fleeting moment, the Beast believed he’d successfully chased him out of the West Wing. But the mouse turned to a portrait in a golden frame, one that had been painted so long ago, in a faraway life.

He’d dragged his claws across that painting many times, when he could no longer take the image of himself as a prince, mocking him with his dead-eyed stare and prestige.

Reminding him of what he used to be.

Though he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it permanently, some part of him couldn’t bear to throw it away. He didn’t know why.

He was tempted to spring out of his hiding place and tell the mouse to get out right now, but the gentle, almost reverent way the mouse pulled the hanging scraps of the portrait up to what remained in the frame made him hesitate.

In the entryway of the balcony, the rose sparked within the bell jar, its ethereal glow blinding for just a moment before it settled once again.

His hesitation cost him.

Slowly, the mouse approached the enchanted rose. The glow was always mesmerizing, always the only beautiful thing in an otherwise dark and ugly room.

Sometimes he fantasized about shredding the rose to pieces and scattering the petals to the wind, so that he wouldn’t ever have to look at it anymore.

But he wasn’t the only one affected by the curse, though he was the one who bore the brunt of it. Too often, he’d come close to forgetting that.

The rose floated just above a small, elevated platform. Five petals had fallen so far, lifeless and dead. More would join them soon enough. The pink glow illuminated the mouse’s unusual blue eyes, which were already lit up in idiotic wonder and curiosity.

With a surprising amount of strength for a mouse so slim, the prisoner carefully lifted the bell jar and set it aside.

The sheer stupidity of that action stunned the Beast.

Then the mouse reached out, fingers outstretched, just a few inches away from-

THAT FOOL WAS GOING TO DAMN THEM ALL!

All-consuming fear and fury seized hold of the Beast’s mind, his vision filled with red haze as he sprung out from behind the ivy thicket.

Protect the rose. Protect the rose at any cost.  

The Beast snarled, ignoring his prisoner’s startled gasp. The mouse tripped over his own feet as the Beast snatched up the bell jar and slammed it over the rose.

For a moment, he feared he was too rough with the precious items. Though no petals fell, he wouldn’t allow himself any relief.

Not until the intruder was dealt with.

He gripped the bell jar tightly, slowly turning to face the mouse who thought he could just barge into the West Wing without any consequences whatsoever.

“What are you doing here?” the Beast growled, blocking the rose from the mouse’s view.

The mouse held his hands in front of his face. “I…I’m sorry!” he stammered.

Did he truly believe a simple placation would work? That he broke the one rule, a rather generous rule, just to satisfy his own curiosity?

“I warned you NEVER to come here!” he snarled, caring nothing for the apology.

The mouse stumbled over the corner of a ceramic vase which had oddly survived the carnage the Beast had wrought over the years. His eyes were wide, his ears limp. He squeaked something in protest, pitifully trying to justify his poor reasoning.

“DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU COULD’VE DONE?”

A roar tore out of his throat. He was dimly aware of a terrified scream, his large paws smashing a vase into jagged shards, and all he knew was the pleasure of unleashing his wrath upon anything that couldn’t fight back.

He only saw red.  

“GET OUT!”

A pile of broken wood flew past the mouse’s head. He let out a ragged cry and fled the West Wing. His piercing scream echoed in the Beast’s ears, banishing the red, vengeful haze that overtook his mind.

Broken furniture surrounded him.  

Downstairs, the servants pleaded in vain for the mouse to stay. A cold wind blew through the castle, icy enough to pierce through his defenses.

The Beast turned to the rose, just in time for the sixth petal to fall.

It had a wicked sense of humor.

The enchanted mirror reflected cruel, sharp fangs as he panted for breath. The portrait’s gaze bore into him, dead-eyed and mocking and judgmental.  

And the twisted black horns which adorned his head were heavier than before.  

AN: I’m sorry mice, I love you, I swear…

No I did not start the BatB AU as an excuse to torture Brain as much as I already do. It’s kinda sad that many character traits of Disney’s Beast and Brain overlap. Short temper, arrogant, a goal they want very very badly but their own vices prevent them from ever obtaining it, brooding, someone they love so much they’ll do anything for, even give up their own desires, but they don’t believe they can be loved back…yeah. 

I tried to do the West Wing justice cause it’s such a great scene in the movie, but I don’t think it translates well to a text based medium. Oh well, you can just listen to the soundtrack, but I think I did well enough with it.

[rae-is-typing]

kicked out

Description: You’re a part of the LGBTQ+ community, but your mother is a part of a religion that hates the LGBTQ+ community. You come out and she kicks you out. Tony helps. 

Characters: reader, reader’s mother, Tony Stark, mention of Peter Parker

Reader is gender neutral!

Warnings: homophobia, transphobia, general hate towards those in the LGBTQ+ community, intense bigotry, being kicked out, anxiety attack

Disclaimers: This one shot is not meant to be one about hating religion. This piece was loosely based on my own internal struggle with myself and the religion I was raised in. I’ve also never dealt with direct backlash because of my identity. I’m not out yet and I have no desire to be out yet. This is the worst case scenario I would be facing if I did come out.

I tried to make the religion and the identity as ambiguous as possible to make it a little more universal, but this one shot definitely points to the identity being gay, queer, bi, or pan, so I’m sorry I didn’t make it anymore neutral.

If you have a problem with this fic or the way it was written, I urge you to message me. We can have a conversation about where I went wrong and how I can learn from the experience and do better in the future.

Word count: 2k

The Avengers love you, plain and simple. How could they not grow to love the adorable teen they let into their unconventional family? (If Tony had his way, he would legally adopt you in a heartbeat.) Unfortunately for Tony, you had a mom. She was a pretty good one, she fed you, clothed you and supported you in most things you did. You moved to New York together when your father died. Your mother was also very religious. You were born and raised in the church your mother and father were raised in. You never had a problem with it; the people were amazing, the community was like a big family, you grew up with all the youth, and, most importantly, felt loved and safe. You rallied together against what they claimed to be of the devil. That included people in the LGBT+ community. When you grew up, you realized how you truly feel about people of your sex, and how you feel about people of the same sex. It started slowly. You began to accept that part of yourself when you met someone like you. He was nice, compassionate, accepting of others and helped everyone he could. He was one of the best people you’ve ever met. He was nothing like what you’re mother and religion told you LGBTQ+ people were like. What had really convinced you that the LGBTQ+ are real people was when one of your closest friends came out. You accepted them, they were not only in the same boat as you (not that you were ready to tell anyone), they were one of you. But not everyone thought so. You saw it whenever you went to church and they were at the meetings. It didn’t make sense to you. They were one of you, right? So they got a pass. Apparently not. You knew through the disappointed and judgemental eyes burning with disgust. It made you sick and only further solidified your resolve to stay in the closet. You soon learned it was easier said than done. Whenever you wanted to avoid the rallies, you chickened out and went, too afraid to disappoint your friends and mother. You always stuck to the standards and tried to be the perfect child your mother always wanted. It was exhausting. Admittedly, you saw the difference between your congregation, and the Avengers when you first met them. They were the first people you could truly be yourself with. As cheesy as it sounds, it was evident. They encouraged your individuality and loved you because of your personality and your abilities. 

You could talk to them, and you did. You told Peter first. He hugged you and told you that he’s bisexual and hasn’t come out to May yet. 

You told Tony about yourself a week later. He smiled at you, wrapped an arm around you and told you he was proud of you for discovering yourself and beginning to accept that part of you. It was something you didn’t expect, not that it wasn’t welcome. You were on top of the world for a couple weeks, thankful that some of the most important people in your life loved you still. But as of late, your thoughts about yourself have been killing your spirit. You were so tired of pretending. The toll it took on you was obvious to everyone that didn’t know you as the perfect sheep. The people that were worried the most were the Avengers. You were at the tower a lot more than usual, not that they were complaining. It was just odd. You hesitated when they asked you simple questions, spaced out a lot more, ate less and claimed you felt sick almost every other day. They’d share concerned glances and tried to talk with you, but you’d brush it off and used school, drama or headaches to excuse your strange behaviour. It worked- for a while. Then you stopped going to the tower completely. It wasn’t your fault. Your mother heard you say one positive thing about the LGBTQ+ community and freaked out. She went off saying that it was the Avengers corrupting you and that she never should have let you take the Stark internship in the first place, and so much more. You had never heard her yell so much in your life, it was terrifying. She stopped letting you go out, you were only allowed to go to School and Church, took away all forms of technology and outside communication. 

You were going crazy, there was no way you could keep living like this. So, you told her. You finally told her what you are, how you felt and why she shouldn’t make decisions for you when you were perfectly capable of making them yourself. You had waited a couple weeks, so you thought she’d be more level headed. But, you were wrong. She freaked out more than before. 

You knew for a fact that it was worse than before because she kicked you out.

You were shocked, confused and most of all hurt. You’re a part of the LGBTQ+ community, but she was still your mother. 

“What?” You asked, confusion lacing you voice. 

“You heard me, get out. Get out of my house.” Your mom stated firmly, disgust obvious in her voice. 

“You can’t do this, I’m your child!”

“Not anymore. You have until I get back, get you stuff and get out!” She shouted, walking out and slamming the door. 

You sat on the couch until her words sank in. Your mother is kicking you out.  

I’m homeless now. Where am I going to go? What am I going to tell my friends, what am I going to tell Peter? What am I going to tell Tony? What am I going to do? I can’t do it on my own. I can’t do it. I can’t… 

Your breathing sped up, your heart races, and waves of nausea hit you hard.

Nevertheless, you got up and searched for your phone. As soon as you found it, you eagerly dialled in his personal number and called. He didn’t answer. You wanted to cry, you tried again with no answer. You plugged in your phone, put your head in your hands and sobbed. 

Moments later, your phone rang. It was Tony. 

“Tony,” You breathed out. 

“Y/N! Where’ve you been, kid? It’s not as fun here without you.” His tone was light and relieved now that he could talk to you and make sure you’re okay.

“Tony, my mom, she- I- I wouldn’t have called if I had another option, I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Whoa, hey, slow down and take a deep breath, Y/N.” His tone changed from fun to concerned in an instant. “What happened with your mom?”

“I-I told- I told her about me and that- that I- and she- Tony I can’t- she- I don’t-” You’re crying hard, unable to form coherent sentences and unable to breathe properly. 

“Y/N, where are you?” Tony asked.

“H-home.” 

“I’m coming over, stay on the line with me sweetheart, can you do that?”

“Ye-eah.”

As promised, you didn’t hang up until Tony was standing in front of you- Iron Man suit and all. He immediately pulled you in his arms when he got the suit off and began to calm you down.

“Can you tell me what happened now, kid?”

“She kicked me out.” You spoke into his chest. 

“She what?” Tony growled. How could a mother be so cruel? Anger flooded his veins, how could someone turn away from their child for simply being honest with themselves?

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have called you if I had any other option. Please don’t be mad, I’m so sorry.” You bury your face in his chest, wanting this day to be a bad dream. 

“It’s good you called me, Y/N. I’m not mad, not at you.” Tony held you in his arms, cradling your head against his chest and rubbing an arm up and down your back. There’s no hesitation, he knows that he needs to be there for you. “You’re staying with me.” 

“W-what?” 

“My dear, you are coming back to the tower. You will be sleeping, eating, doing your homework, socializing, and living with me and the rest of us at my tower. Okay?”

You can only nod, too overwhelmed to speak while clutching the back of Tony’s shirt like it was the only thing that was keeping you alive. He kept rubbing your back and letting you cry into his chest. Right now, his comfort doesn’t matter to him, not when his kid is crying in his arms.

It seems, though, that he’s the only one that heard the door begin to open. 

Tony grips your forearm and steps in front of you. Your mother opens the door with puffy red eyes and dried tears on her face. She looks genuinely sad for what she had to do, but that look of sadness dissipates when she sees Tony and you standing in her living room. 

“What are you doing here?” She hisses. “What is that doing here?" 

"Y/N, go to your room and pack what you want to take.” Tony’s voice is even and strong. You hesitate, tears still streaming down your face, fingers still clutching Tony’s clothes like you were a toddler hiding from another adult. “Y/N, now.”

You turn briskly, running down the small hallway and into your room. You lock the door, rip your suitcase from your closet and stuff all of your sentimental items first before your favorite clothes. 

Their voices are easily heard through the thin apartment walls. You hear Tony defending you and your mom berating you. 

“That thing is not my child. I did not raise a sinner!”

“Y/N is a human being with a name that you gave them. You are their mother, mothers are supposed to love their children, not throw them out like yesterday’s garbage.”

You’ve never heard Tony this angry. 

I shouldn’t have called him, he’s mad, she’s mad, I made her mad, she hates me she hates she hates me she hates me

You grabbed a pillow and cried in earnest into it, managing to cover your ears as well as your mouth to muffle your sobs and the voices coming through the walls.

A knock at your door makes you jump and hold your breath. 

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you ready to go?” Tony says. You can hear the anger that was in his voice, even if he’s trying to stay as calm as he can for you. 

“Yeah,” you croak, wiping your face. You grab the bag and open the door. Tony is shaking with fury, but he wraps an arm around you and walks you to the living room. Your mother says nothing to you as she sits on the couch with a prideful look on her face. “We’re flying back to the tower so I need you to hold on tightly and do not let go under any circumstances.” 

You nod at the instructions and Tony suits up. The quiet mechanical sounds are music to your ears. He places an arm on the middle of your back and hooks one under your knees. He hoists you up easily, the bag resting your chest and held tightly by you. 

Tony flies slower and lower than usual, keeping you in mind. You have one arm around his neck and the other holding the bag to your chest. He lands on a balcony to one of the top floors and carries you inside. Placing you on the ground with care, he holds your shoulders and assures himself you’re stable. He takes off the suit and walks you to a room. 

“You can stay here for now. I’ll talk with Pepper and the team about what happened. I’ll only tell them that you’re staying for awhile. You can tell them the other news when you’re ready.”

You nod. He closes the door and you sit on the bed, staring at the wall. 

A feeling of deep longing grows in your chest, along with feelings of rejection and pain. Your head drops to your hands and all you can do is cry.

[silverducks]

Game of Thrones - Jaime Lannister

A rambling character study of Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones.

Introduction

Ok, so nearly a month since I finished watching Game of Thrones, and I’m still not over how it ended. Like some things I can reconcile myself too, some things just annoy me when I overthink what happened and some things - ok one thing in particular - is just not letting me go.

And that is the way the show ended for Jaime Lannister.

I know I’m like 2 years too late on the GoT bandwagon and no one cares anymore. But I’m writing all these posts because I still care, having recently experienced what you all went through 2 years ago. And I know what I’ll be posting will have all been posted countless times before and discussed in the fandom years ago. But I kinda need to still get my own thoughts written down and outta my head.

Before I go on though, I just want to add in here that I do still love this show and, even right to the very end, think the acting, crew, music, sets/scenery, costumes, basically everything was pretty much amazing. That is except the writing, which, went downhill after series 4. Before then it was pretty much amazing too (not always perfect (is anything?), but so darn good!)

Now, turns out when I came to write down my thoughts on Jaime’s ending, I had even more than I realised. Basically it’s turned into me writing one massive analysis of Jaime’s character based on the show. So I’ve split it into separate posts, with this first one more of an intro, a summary of my thoughts and overall opinion on Jaime and a bit of context on my own experience with Game of Thrones.

Now, spoilers for Game of Thrones ending

I’ve read/watched a lot on the internet since I saw those episodes (series 8, episode 4 and 5 in case you weren’t sure) and I know a lot of people don’t like how they ended Jaime’s story in the show either. But I’ve also read a lot of comments where people did like it, or at least thought it made sense. The reasons they give make no sense to me, but it’s made me think and overthink and analyse way too much about how they did end his story.

So, in order to try and get them out of my head, I’m putting them down here. It’s a long, pretty rambling read, split up into a few parts because it got so long. Across the posts I’m going to go through my own understanding and perception of Jaime’s character and his arc and why I think they completely ruined it in episodes 8.04 and 8.05. I’ll then focus on some of the main reasons I’ve seen why people think it did make sense, and why (even though I maintain everyone is entitled to their own opinion) I completely disagree. Jaime’s character arc was annihilated in the show even more than Kings Landing. And that is more than a bit frustrating.

Now, just a bit of background to add some context to my thoughts; I basically only got around to watching the show a few months ago (I’ve not read the books yet). I basically binged watched the entire show and am now just a little bit reeling from it all! LOL! Also, as I did binge watch it, it meant I didn’t spend time between episodes/series really analysing/theorising etc. I had a few ideas and thoughts, but not to the depth it would have been had I needed to wait impatiently for each new episode. This means I think my viewpoint is of the show as an overall whole, rather than each separate series, because it kinda all rolled into one. This may, or may not, have affected my opinion and so this analysis of Jaime Lannister and my disappointment in his ending. It also means, having only watched the show once, I’ve probably forgotten or missed bits. However, since I finished the show, I’ve watched a lot of YouTube videos and read a lot of stuff on the net about it, including in comparison to the books. (And I maybe rewatched some of my favourite scenes just a few times…) And now I am analysing and theorising and thinking about this show way too much! LOL!

So I guess my viewpoint isn’t one of ignorance, but it might not be quite the same as someone who’s been invested in the show from the start.

Like most viewers, I pretty much thought Jaime = evil villain for most of the earlier series. He had the odd moment, but it wasn’t until he did that speech with Catelyn about the conflict of all those oaths he’d taken that I even started to take note of his character. And then series 3 happens, where he has his road trip with Brienne, loses his hand, saves her from a bear and basically starts his wonderful path of character development. And basically manages to go from a guy I pretty much do not like at all at the start, to one of my all time favourite characters ever.

Also, I’m definitely a Brienne/Jaime shipper and did wish them to have a happy ending. However, I pretty much never thought the show would actually even go there, let alone make it happy. In fact, I actually did my best to NOT ship them for such a long time because, being Game of Thrones, I knew it was very unlikely to end well. But, then yeah, their intense staring contests kept on happening and darn it, the way that Jaime’s voice breaks when he says Lady Brienne and him giving her a priceless sword, and what the sword represents and…

Ok, well, yeah, I could gush about them all day, but anyway, I ended up not being able to fight the ship any more after series 6 and THAT tent scene. But, even then, I still didn’t think the show would make it canon, like it would just leave it all open ended/make up your own mind kinda thing.

And then we get to series 8. Like we have a whole episode (that is actually named for their very storyline) with Jaime just staring at Brienne, being all dorky around Brienne and then, if that wasn’t enough, he even KNIGHTS Brienne! I mean, this is epic for this ship! And I would have been ok (not happy, but satisfied) as a Brienne and Jaime shipper if that had been it.

But then no, then he barely leaves her side in the fight against the dead in the next episode – they fight side by side with their two halves of one whole swords, each risking their own life for the other multiple times. And then in the next episode (where I don’t think there’s barely any scene where they’re NOT right next to each other) the show DID make it canon. Like it actually did go there, they slept together (in an adorably awkward scene I love). Heck, Jaime then even chooses to stay in the North and be with Brienne, even though he hates the North. Like this was just epicness of all proportions and I got so excited and all those shippy feels I was trying to hold back just came rushing out and then... and then...

THEN that scene happens. He leaves her. Like WTH…

Anyway, more on that in another post. I guess what I’m trying to say is that as much as I ship them, my issues with Jaime’s ending is less about his relationship with Brienne, and more just his complete 180 on character development. Jaime’s arc has been heavily influenced by Brienne, but it is still amazing in its own right. As I didn’t expect Brienne/Jaime to ever happen (so when it did and then got taken away in the very same episode, it’s incredibly frustrating and gives even less credence to what does happen), it’s not why I’m so annoyed and disappointed with what happened to Jaime.

I’m annoyed because they took all this amazing character growth over 7 series and then screwed it all over in less than two episodes. No, that’s not enough. It was a complete and utter character assassination that completely undermines and destroys 7 series worth of investment and development, completely nullifying everything Jaime went through as a character.

So, yeah, I’m a bit annoyed, but that’s because it makes no sense and it’s bugging me enough to write this whole series of posts. Because I can’t let it go. And having read people justify, even like it online, it’s made my inner analysis thought train go into override. And I’m sorry if these posts are like I’m preaching to the choir, or writing such obvious stuff and repeating myself, I’m just trying to get it all out my head as coherently as I can. Hopefully allowing me to move on a bit.

#Urgh #I need to sit in a corner and try to cheer myself up again before I can write anymore #Maybe watching some Brienne and Jaime fan videos will help cheer me up #And also simultaneously depress me even more.

[i-am-just-a-kiddo]

Fic Writer Interview Meme

tagged by dear @vishcount 💕 am sending you a lot of love because you are doing amazing, even if it doesn’t feel like it. don’t be so harsh on yourself. and thank you for the tag, I did my best. 

tagging @cortue, @intyalote, @the-cloud-whisperer, @not-saying-revolution-but and every writer that sees this and wants to do it! 

I was rambling again so there’s the usual cut

name: here just kiddo please - iamjustakiddo on ao3

fandoms: just for shits and giggles am gonna try and list all the fandoms i’ve written for? roughly chronologically speaking, my first fic was for Kuroshitsuji and the we go to Harry Potter, SKAM, Narnia, Sherlock Holmes (unpublished), Peter Pan (unpublished) - I don’t write for any of these anymore? except for Narnia which I might return to when the mood hits. I’ve written a ton for BTS and The Untamed, and still wish to write more for Nirvana in Fire. I’ve also written for Winter Begonia, Hwarang and YYY: The Series. Current WIPs are Word Of Honor, The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty, Original Sin - none of those will probably see the light of day. I’ve also had thoughts of writing for Killer and Healer, Strangers from Hell and Avatar: The Last Airbender.

two-shot: hmm I guess my two oneshots for YYY could count as a two shot? am not sure, but I simply had different ideas and seperated them instead of writing one coherent oneshot.

most popular multi-chapter fic: my BTS Mafia AU Take Me Into Your Skin. I’m quite proud of this one because it was my first ever multichaptered story back when I wrote it in 2018 and it turned out to be over 160k words long, which is just wild? I guess I cringe at it a lot and I would change a lot about it now, but am still proud of it because I had a lot of fun and am still fond of the story. (Statistics - Subscriptions: 144 / Hits: 18319 / Kudos: 519 / Comment Threads: 83 / Bookmarks: 295)

actual worst part of writing: everything currently. I feel a little bit like an imposter doing these games right now, cause I haven’t written anything that I’m truly proud of recently (or like, this past year I guess). This slump is very hard to get out of.  Under normal circumstances, the worst part of writing is when I know what I wanna write but it doesn’t come out? and when every sentence just sounds horrible and not at all how I imagined. Also the physical act of writing is difficult because I get tired so easily and when I don’t manage to get into hyperfocus and a nice flow, it’s just exhausting. 

also coming up with summaries, fuck that. 

how you choose your titles: i’m very basic and usually use some quotes or lyrics, but recently I’ve been trying to be more creative with my titles? I need to exercise that because I truly wanna learn how to come up with my own titles that sound nice. I suck at them so much 

do you outline: absolutely. my memory sucks badly so I always try to keep an overview in my notebooks because I can’t trust my brain to remember all the important details I come up with. Working with notes is also so freeing because I’m free to do anything I want and don’t need to worry about actually writing it? I like having visuals for my stories so it feels like an anchor I can hold on to when I’m lost.

ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice: oh boy this is difficult, because I don’t have specifics for any of these ideas and that’s why I never get around to do them? I guess bringing my Wen Kexing and Wang Zhi character studies into shape is the most doable project rn. I would also love to finish my Original Sin fic because I really want to write a proper case-fic with actual plot but am just so stuck on that and too stupid for my own criminal cases so currently I’ve put that on hold. 

An idea that I’ve had for years now is a Sokka/Suki/Toph future fic? I would ignore what happens in LOK and for some reason I’m stuck on the thought that I want to explore this OT3? I want to explore how in their adult lives, they would fit together and especially how Toph could work as addition to the relationship Sokka und Suki have? I would love to explore the individual relationships they have with each other but I’m also very nervous about it because I’ve never written for ATLA and I don’t know if I can explore this properly. 

another idea that’s been on my mind ever since Singularity dropped is a taegi Dorian Gray AU? I’ve already done a little bit of research about 19th century Korea and Korean portrait paintings because of course, I would wanna make it as historically accurate as I can manage but honestly, I feel this project is quite hopeless. I think I also have very conflicting ideas about how I should do this and if it’s even a good idea to realise. 

Recently I’ve been thinking about writing a slow-burn enemies to lovers adventure story because I have Cravings. I don’t know if this would be an original project or some type of AU for some fandom, but I just really want to write about two people on opposite sides clashing together and having to work together, forming a reluctant bond and just. exploring the progress of that? Maybe there would be horses, probably historical, or maybe fantasy? I have no idea, I just wish I could write something like this some day. 

callouts @ me: stop being pretentious. not everything needs to be existential dread. don’t project all your issues into every character you write. not every sentence you write needs to be a Masterpiece and sometimes less is more. bring more structure to your stories instead of just aimlessly drifting. learn grammar for god’s sake.

best writing traits: i have no idea sorry. maybe that I heavily rely on my empathy? but i  truly do not know.

spicy tangential opinion: I don’t have any spicy opinions I think? Just do what you enjoy. Write what you want, you can worry about what to with it after. If you want to get rid of thoughts just do it. Don’t think about how it looks to other people, because unless you show it someone, it’s your art. It’s okay if it takes time, even if it’s frustrating. Pressure doesn’t help with creating art so maybe allow it to grow organically. is this spicy enough yet? don’t let people tell you you are less of a writer because you do things differently. there are methods, ideas, guides, advice - but there shouldn’t be rules to what makes you writer. everyone works differently. and to everyone who struggles - i know it sucks but as long as you find joy in writing, it’s not hopeless. sometimes things need a break or sometimes it needs a different shape and that’s okay ❤ did I reach the level of spiciness required here? 

summing up, I just wanna send strength to all writers out there because oh boy do we need it! and sending a lot of gratitude to all the fic-writers out there that have made my nights and days more enjoyable by sharing their passion. 

[yeah-klave]

A Short History of What Happened - Chapter 5

Written, with love, for EnKlave Fest 2021.

Catch up with the story so far: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4

Prompt: Omegas aren’t allowed to join the army, but then Omega!Klaus gets dropped into Vietnam and has to pose as a Beta. He manages quite well, right until he goes into heat. Alpha!Dave is protective and incredibly aroused/horny.

Genre: Omega verse, smut, developing relationships, slow burn, undercover, misunderstandings, secretly in love.

Word length: This chapter: 3.9k

Warning: Implied, canon-compliant abuse. Implied homophobia. Discussion of AU-specific political issues, including victim-blaming, gay-shame and dub-con medical procedures. The entire work, when posted, will contain explicit sexual content. 

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

***************************************************************

They walked on in silence for a while.

Dave wasn’t quite sure why or how, but he felt more content in this moment than he had in months, years even. Maybe ever.

It was ridiculous. The man walking beside him was practically a stranger. A mystery; with secrets and a painful history and – quite possibly – more than a little darkness inside him.

Dave couldn’t explain it, but somehow, he still felt a… pull.

Perhaps Klaus did live in a world of shadows, but maybe Dave could turn on the light. Maybe Dave could be the light.

Dave heard a gentle inhale next to him and turned to see Klaus breathing deeply, his eyes closed and his heard tilted back slightly.

Dave faltered, was he… scenting the air?

Klaus’ lashes fluttered and he opened his eyes and caught Dave’s gaze. His irises were thin green disks around the dark pools of his blown pupils.

“Whaafght,” Dave stuttered.

Klaus blinked.

Dave composed himself, took a deep breath and started again.

“What,” Dave swallowed, thinking frantically and eventually grasping at the first coherent thought that came to him, “what kind of music do you like?”

Before him, a smile spread slowly across Klaus’ face and a twinkle lit up his eyes.

“Buckle up, David,” Klaus smiled, “I’m about to take you on a wild ride.”

And he did.

Dave hadn’t even heard of most of the songs Klaus listed off. In fact, he didn’t recognise them to all, even when Klaus sang bits aloud in a breathy, enthusiastic, but slightly off-key voice. Dave was feeling light and relaxed, but he didn’t start getting giggly until Klaus began adding the accompanying dance moves – a series of shimmies, little hip rolls and dramatic arm movements. Dave started laughing. And once he started, he found it really difficult to stop. The sound of Dave attempting to supress his giggling seemed to spur Klaus on because he just started hamming it up even more.

Dave tried to get himself under control a couple of times, glancing around nervously, aware of where they were. But the coast looked completely clear and then he’d look back at Klaus and the expression on his face would set him off again.

“I’ve never,” Dave wheezed between peals of laughter, “even heard of these songs. My favourite song is The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Where you’re from must be much hipper than where I grew up.”

“Ohmigod, Dave!” Klaus choked, “Hip! You’re just too precious!”

“It means trendy or… happening,” Dave helpfully supplied.

Klaus’ faced creased and he doubled over in silent giggles.

“That’s perfect,” Klaus choked out, gasping for air, “absolutely spiffing! Completely ripping! Positively groovy!”

Dave didn’t quite get the joke, but grinned along with him.

“It must have been, though,” Dave bobbed his head earnestly. “We must be pretty out of touch with the cool music where I’m from.”

“Where’s that?” Klaus asked.

“Near Dallas,” Dave supplied.

“Ooh, a Southerner!” Klaus said. “So, Dave, are you more a smooth Southern gentleman or rough Texas cowboy?”

Dave paused. “Neither,” he said finally, “I’m just me. Just boring old Dave Katz. There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m just… a plain hamburger kind of a guy.”

Klaus looked at him steadily. “I don’t buy that at all,” he said. “There’s nothing plain hamburger about you, Dave.”

“Well,” Dave corrected himself. “Actually, my order would probably be plain hamburger with two pickles, if I’m being exact. And picky.”

“Exactly,” Klaus grinned. “See, just what I said! Flavour! Dave Katz likes to slip a bit of pickle in his hamburger!”

Klaus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Dave coughed uncomfortably. This conversation was straying into dangerous territory.

“How do you take your hamburger, then?” Dave asked.

“I like a little pickle,” Klaus said. “Well actually, I like a big pickle. A big, hard pickle.” He waggled his eyebrows again and then did an adorable little two-eyed wink. Dave felt his cheeks heating up at the same time his heart clenched a little at the cuteness. “The cheese can go take a running jump, though,” Klaus added, “and it had better come with fries and ketchup or else heads will roll. To be honest though, hamburger probably wouldn’t be my first choice for favourite food.”

“What would be?” Dave asked, interested.

Klaus pondered. “I knew someone once who made amazing ossobuco, that was pretty good. And I’ve always had a sweet spot of doughnuts. My siblings and I used to…” Klaus trailed off.

Dave held his breath, but Klaus didn’t add any more. Dave chanced a glance sideways. Klaus had a distant, faraway look in his eyes.

Dave racked his brain for a change of topic.

“Have you ever read Dune?” he asked.

Klaus appeared to give himself a little shake.

“No,” he said, “what’s it about?”

“Well,” and with that, Dave launched into a monologue about his favourite ever book. As he talked, he saw Klaus’ eyes flitting over his face, smiling and nodding along. There was a warmth and fondness there that took Dave by surprise; an unguarded acceptance. The mutual respect of a new friendship. It made Dave feel giddy and drunk, a bubble of happiness growing inside him.

Dave was just wondering whether he should start telling Klaus about his interpretation of the ‘fear is the little death’ line, when he suddenly noticed in the distance, the location of the new camp they were travelling towards.

Reality hit him like a punch to the face.

He’d had all this time alone with Klaus to talk about the difficult things, the things they couldn’t speak about in front of the others and they’d wasted it on hamburgers and silly dance moves. In fact, he’d hardly got any answers to the multitude of questions that has been plaguing him since Klaus first arrived. They still had so many practical things they needed to discuss.

“Klaus,” Dave said, his voice low and urgent.

Klaus flinched and looked around quickly for the danger.

Guiltily, Dave backtracked.

“No. Sorry. It’s fine. It’s just, we’ve almost arrived and…” he paused, usure how to phrase the next bit. “There are still a few things we should probably talk about first.”

“Like what?” Klaus asked, his voice innocent and confused.

“Well…” Dave started slowly. “You know…” He looked at Klaus hopefully. Klaus looked back, nonplussed.

Dave shifted uncomfortably, then whispered. “You know… omega stuff.” He swallowed. “Like… how we’re going to mask your scent and keep you safe.” He shifted uncomfortably again. “And then there’s,” he gave an embarrassed little cough, “there’s your…. ummmm…” his cheeks were bright red now, “there’s your…” he looked down and finally mumbled, “your heats.”

“Oh,” Klaus said breezily. “No need to worry about that, I have the suppressor implant.” He waved Dave’s words off with a distracted flap of his hand. “And the IUD, too” he added as an afterthought. “With the scent thing, though, I thought you said the others were all betas? They won’t be able to smell me. Only alphas can smell omegas. And there’s just you, so I’m all good.”

Dave frowned, confused. “What do you mean implant?”

“The heat suppressor implant,” Klaus clarified. “I have been – almost exclusively – since I was in my teens.” His face darkened. “My dad made me. He didn’t trust me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to get bonded to the first alpha that came along, or get myself knocked up at seventeen. But I would have liked the chance to masturbate my way through my heats in my locked bedroom like a normal teenage omega. What I really needed was a whack-off dildo. But, oh no! That’s not okay for Number Four. He had to have the medical implant instead.”

Dave frowned deeper, trying desperately to keep up.

“Are you saying,” he said slowly, “that you have something implanted in you that’s stops you going into heat?”

“Umm, yeah,” Klaus drawled, looking at him as though Dave was the one talking nonsense. But then his eyes got really wide and he snapped his mouth shut.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, staring into the middle distance. “They didn’t start doing that until…” he paused, “So nobody here has…” he trailed off again.

“Klaus?” Dave prompted.

Klaus gave a deep sigh. “Look,” he said. “I can’t explain it. But we don’t need to worry about my heats. I’m good for easily another few months.” He sighed again deeply. “And by then I expect Five will have… done something anyway... probably come and got me. So, I’ll be long gone before that’s an issue.”

Dave choked. “There are five of them after you?”

“What?” Klaus frowned. “No, Five. My brother Five.”

Dave was completely lost. “Okay,” he said slowly, still not quite sure what had happened but somehow trusting that Klaus knew what he was talking about. “Okay, that’s good, I think. So unexpected heats is something we can cross off the list of worries.”

“Yes.” Klaus gave a definitive nod. “So go on, what else did you have on that list?” Klaus asked. “It was my scent, wasn’t it? I don’t get what’s the big deal is if we’re just surrounded by betas?”

“Everyone else in our unit are betas,” Dave confirmed. “But there are alphas in the other units. I mean,” he added delicately, “I don’t know if any that are openly… you know…” he trailed off.

“Gay?” Klaus supplied.

“Yeah,” Dave said thankfully. “But, I mean, that’s not to say there aren’t any. If they were they’d probably – no definitely – try to hide that.” Dave twisted his face in discomfort. Klaus was looked at him unblinkingly, a question lodged behind his slightly furrowed brows.

Dave swallowed again and tried to steady his breathing, determinedly not making eye contact. He couldn’t let Klaus know that he was talking about himself. Not after everything Klaus had said earlier about manipulative alphas only being kind to omegas for sex. He wanted Klaus to feel safe. He wanted Klaus to trust him.

So Dave couldn’t let him know that he was one of those kind of alphas. The ones who were attracted to men. The alphas who were almost as rare as male omegas. After what Klaus had shared about his past, he didn’t want Klaus to feel scared of him. He didn’t want to make him feel like… prey.

Klaus was one hundred percent safe with Dave. Dave knew he would never force himself on anyone. But Klaus didn’t know that. Klaus would just see him as a potential threat. Even worse, he might think that he was manipulating him, that Dave had befriended him on false pretences, only to get close to him and... and… Dave shuddered.

Klaus had made it very clear – he was running from an abusive alpha. So absolutely under no circumstances could Dave let him know his preferences. The competing alpha urges battled inside him again: desire and protection. Protection won.

“So,” Klaus said slowly, “you’re saying I need to be careful to hide the fact that I’m an omega from the alphas in other units, not because they’d want to fuck me – because they’re probably not interested in that – but because they’d out me as an omega. And I’d then be sent… back.”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded. “And if back isn’t safe for you, then we need to make sure they don’t find out, so that you can stay here where you’re safe. Safer.”

“Okay,” Klaus said. “How do we hide my omega-ness from them, then?”

“Well,” Dave said, “for a start, don’t tell anyone you’re an omega.”

“Good one, Sherlock” Klaus grinned.

“Secondly,” Dave said ignoring Klaus’ comment with a small shrug and a roll of his eyes, “I guess, try to keep the scent glands in your neck and wrists covered as much as possible. Clothing is okay for a start, but if you’re going to be around alphas for any length of time, it might be a good idea to cover up even more… bandages or dressings maybe? Or – at a push – a layer of mud might work.”

“That sounds gross.” Klaus wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I know, it sucks,” Dave pulled a sympathetic face, “but it’s safer.”

“It sucks to be safe!” Klaus huffed in frustration. “And you have no idea how much it really sucks. I’m not really one for coving up. I like to live my life scantily clad.”

Dave swallowed and looked resolutely ahead.

“You know…” Klaus said in a sing-song voice, “bare chested twink, make the boys wink…”

“Twink?” Dave frowned.

“That would be me, Dave,” Klaus said, waving his arms in a flourish that took in his whole body. He did a quick twirl on the spot.

“Oh.” Dave could feel his face heating up again.

“Or,” Klaus carried on, “if you want to sin, show some skin… to make him cum, bare your tum.”

“They’re,” Dave swallowed, “interesting rhymes.”

Klaus let out a musically little giggle and batted his long eyelashes theatrically. “All of my own creation, Davey. And anyway… what more do you expect? I’m just a little omega sex toy, there’s nothing up here in my head. I’m only good for one thing… pleasuring horny alphas.”

Dave frowned. “Omegas are worth so much more than that,” he said seriously. His mouth had gone very dry.

“Dave, it’s fine, I was joking.” Klaus said with a little shrug.

“No,” Dave said. “It’s not okay. I know what the law says, but general perceptions aren’t so fast to change. And it’s not fair that omegas are still treated like second class citizens. You shouldn’t feel like you have to act a part just because it’s what’s expected of you. You should be able to be exactly who you want to be.” Dave’s voice had risen and he was breathing deeply. The ironic weight of his words rang in his ears long after he’d finished talking.

“I completely agree,” Klaus said seriously, all frivolity stripped from his face. He looked vulnerable and open again. “I’m absolutely an advocate for omega rights. And it’s good to know that you’re an omega ally. Those rhymes though… I know it might seem like that’s me conforming to an expected stereotype, but actually, it’s the opposite. I hate being told that I shouldn’t embrace my sexuality because it negates years of omega rights protests. Acting like a flirt doesn’t mean I don’t believe omegas should have equal rights in society, whether they’re bonded or not. As far as I’m concerned, there’s a world of difference between choosing to act like a sex object and being forced into it. And I hate it when other omegas imply I’m being a bad omega, like there’s a right way and a wrong way. Fuck everyone who says acting like a stereotype propagates the wrong impression and makes it okay for alphas to treat us that way. That’s just victim blaming. If alphas act like fucking dicks, that’s on them, not us!” Klaus took a long, shuddering inhale.

“I’m sorry I said anything,” Dave said sincerely. “I’m sorry if I upset you or I said the wrong thing. I’m not always the best at talking about this kind of stuff. All I meant to say was… I think omegas get a raw deal and… and… and I’m on your side.”

Klaus smiled contrite. “I know, I’m sorry that got a bit heavy. And don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just omega politics!” He blew out a frustrated breath.

Dave pulled a sympathetic face.

“Anyway,” Klaus said, gathering himself again, “where were we? Oh, yeah, slathering me in mud and making me cover up like a nun.” He grinned and did his funny little two eyed blink again. “Any other ideas about how to mask me up and make me the least fuckable guy in the country?” His voice was light and Dave knew he was only joking.

Dave cleared his throat. “Umm,” he started, “I thought maybe… you could wear my clothes?” He could feel his cheeks heating up again. “After I’ve had them on, I mean. That way my natural alpha smell might cover yours a bit. But you don’t have to,” He added hurriedly, “if you think that’s weird or gross or whatever. It was just an idea.”

Klaus shrugged. “Nope, I mean, that’s a perfectly logical idea. To other alphas, a faint alpha smell mixed with a fait omega smell will probably come out smelling like… well, probably like a bit of a funky smelling beta. But I can deal with that.”

Dave nodded. “I know it’s less than ideal, but I think that’s probably the best option. Other than that, I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

Klaus paused, then said slowly. “So, basically, I’m not really safe here unless you help me. I have to stay on your good side, or else bad things could happen to me? That sounds like it’s come straight from victim testimony.”

Dave grimaced. “Yeah, I totally see where you’re coming from with that. All I can say is that… I’m not like that. I genuinely just want to help you. I know that sounds pretty pathetic and not very reassuring. But the bad things are genuine threats, and we’re in the unusual situation where I actually am the only one who can help. So hopefully you can learn to trust that I am actually an okay guy.” He gave an apologetic little shrug and looked over towards Klaus. “I’ve got your back, soldier. Whether you believe me or not.”

Klaus cocked his head to one side and appraised him seriously, but Dave thought he could smell something light and teasing in the air.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we… soldier?” He said eventually.

“I’ll take that,” Dave said calmly, his face soft and open and honest. Klaus just looked back at him, his expression unreadable.

They had walked on a few more paces before Dave looked over at Klaus warily. “There is something else I should probably tell you.” He said slowly.

Klaus’ ears pricked up and he looked over at Dave quickly. Dave’s nostrils flared, expecting a wave of apprehension from Klaus, but instead all he caught the scent of was… hopeful. He faltered and looked over at Klaus, whose eyes were large and fixed on Dave’s face.

“There is an alpha in another unit,” he started and watched as Klaus’ face fell slightly before his eyes. “I don’t really know, but I have heard… rumours.”

Klaus frowned again. “What kind of rumours?”

“Well,” Dave said. “I heard that… when he was back home… he was arrested a couple of times for abusing omegas, but he got off on technicalities.”

Klaus swallowed and his upper lip twitched in suppressed anger. “Bastard,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Dave intoned flatly. “But look,” he added quickly. “I don’t know if that’s true. It could just be an ugly rumour.”

“All rumours start with a grain of truth somewhere. Except when Allison’s involved.” Klaus grinned. “Man, I wish I could introduce people like that to Allison. She’d sort them right out!” He barked a laugh.

Dave fought the urge to ask who Allison was, and instead said, “I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Just in case, you know. Just to be extra careful around him. He’s big. And not just alpha big. I mean, he’s big big. He could probably snap you in two with his little finger.”

“And by that you actually mean he’d split me in half. Right up the middle.”

Dave grimaced. “Well, I was trying to put it delicately.”

“Yeah, I know you were. Thanks though, I’ll watch out for him. Maybe you can point him out to me?”

“Sure,” Dave agreed.

They walked a little further in silence. It wasn’t exactly the comfortable silence of earlier, but Dave at least felt content that he’d said what needed to be said and was happy they’d come up with a plan. After a few more steps, Klaus chimed up.

“It really doesn’t seem fair that omega biology makes us so much smaller and slighter alphas. I mean, why do we have to be as small as betas. We’re the ones expected to mate with alphas. Alphas who are biologically huge!” He turned towards Dave and looked up into his eyes. Dave looked down at him, really appreciating for the first time the size difference between them. “I mean, everything is just so big about alphas. Their height, their build, their personalities, their cocks…” Dave choked slightly and Klaus grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I am into alpha cocks, but biologically they really are unnecessarily enormous.” Dave looked resolutely ahead, but dimly he was aware that Klaus’ gaze had travelled down to his crotch and the noticeable bulge in his uniform pants.

“The size thing is all very well when it’s an alpha you’re into,” Klaus continued, his gaze still lowered. “But when it’s a predatory alpha throwing his weight around, it’s a bit disconcerting. Omegas should at least have some sort of biological defence mechanism to protect ourselves from alphas like that. Like skunk stick gas, or retractable cat claws.”

Dave let out a loud laugh. He brought a hand up to cover him mouth.

Klaus watched him with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh my god,” Dave huffed out a chuckle. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’m just picturing you with tufty ears and a tail, like a hybrid feline-man… or a cat-boy or something. That’s so wild.”

“Wow,” Klaus said under this breath. “Just wait ‘till you realise what that means, it’s going to blow your mind.”

“What?” Dave asked.

“Oh, never mind, ignore me” Klaus said hurriedly. But he was still grinning.

They turned a bend in the track and suddenly ahead of them they could see the camp site and others in their unit already hard at work.

“I guess it’s back to war now then,” Klaus said shakily.

“I guess so,” Dave replied slowly.

“I’ve got to say,” Klaus grinned, “I really can’t wait to wear that shirt tomorrow.” He nodded at Dave’s chest and furrowed his brows in a mock thoughtful look. “I just don’t think clothes feel right unless they’ve been worn in first by another man during a six hour hike through a tropical rainforest. Clothes are just missing something if they don’t come dirt encrusted and pre-stiffened in dried sweat.”

Dave grimaced and looked down at himself, noticing for the first time his pit stains and the dampness across his chest and back.

“Maybe I’ll give this a quick rinse first,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you dare,” Klaus said firmly. “I need all the alpha musk I can get, remember. Come on, Dave,” he said biting his lip slowly and looking up – way up – into Dave’s face, “you have to mark me. Cover me in your scent.”

Dave swallowed hard and forced his breaths to come evenly. As he looked down into Klaus’ breathtakingly beautiful face, he thought there must be some sort of trick of the light as the sun set slowly beneath the horizon in a pool of blood red light, because he could have sworn he saw a faint blush spread across Klaus’ nose and cheeks, the flush working its way down his throat.

“O-okay,” Dave stammered.

Klaus just blinked slowly and raised his gaze from Dave’s lips to his eyes.

Maintaining this charade, Dave thought ruefully, is going to be much harder than I thought.

[clockworkgraystairs]

KEEP IT DOWN || Jurdan - Hogwarts AU

Written super super late for Jurdan Week 2020 by @jurdannet​ Sorry for the delay!!

Crossover Day || Harry Potter  

Prompt submited by @mysweetvilllain​

Rating: M

Summary: Quidditch day was no normal day at Hogwarts. And Ravenclaw’s head boy, Cardan Greenbriar, knew it very well. 

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @aesthetics-11​ @thesirenwashere​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @b00kworm​ (if you wish to be tagged or untagged [or if my dumb brain forgot to tag u] just let me know!)

My masterlist

Hogwarts was always a battlefield on a quidditch day, and today was not the exception. Not in the final game of their Championship. So far, Cardan had broke up two discussions and dissolved a duel challenge between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.

To be honest, he would have prefered to stay back in his dorms. His book about Asian Myths and History was way more interesting than keeping the students safe. Specially from themselves. But as Head Boy, there was little he could do against it. 

That evening Slytherin had won the match, and boy had it been a hot-blooded one. Brooms had flown through the rain at unimaginable speed. The seekers, entwined in a fierce battle for the golden snitch, almost crashing with each other on several occasions. If his memory was correct, at least three players had fell from their brooms either from crashing or bludgers. The crowd’s roar almost left him deaf when Slytherin’s seeker finally closed her fingers around the snitch. When she’d flown down and paraded it around, the noise became even worse. Her chestnut hair had come loose at some point of the match, and mixed with her smudged eyeliner she gave a feral image that send tickles down his spine.

Back in the castle, he could see silver and green flags everywhere. People ran and cheered. Only Gryffindors and some others walked back to their dorms in silence, or anger, he couldn’t say. Ten points from the Hufflepuff boy who tried to hide the bottle of alcohol in his robe. With a sigh, he pulled out his wand and vanished the whiskey back to the kitchen’s shelves.

After another two hours of prowling around, he decided to call it for the day.

Cardan had almost made it to the stairs when a loud commotion snapped his attention back to the Great Hall. He peered inside, more than ready to continue with the points slaughter. That’s when he saw her again.

Jude Duarte. Slytherin’s captain and seeker. Crowned a legend after today’s victory. Her strategy abilities had made her team practically invincible. She sat on top of one of the tables, surrounded by the rest of the team and a few more students. Her damp her already starting to curl again. Apparently the party wasn’t over for everyone just yet.

Cackles died gradually as he approached them. All eyes turning to him. 

“Hello there, Ravenclaw. Are you lost?” He could practically feel her purr on his stomach, her gaze trailing down his body. A girl named Lilliver snickered from her seat.

“Oh, not at all.” He shrugged. “But you’re being quite loud, and I must ask you to keep it down.”

Jude slid down the table and stood in front of him, a cheeky smirk playing on the corner of her lips. “That’s a little rude, Head Boy, why don’t you join us and forget about noise rules for a while? We’re celebrating.”

“I can see that, and I appreciate the offer.” He conceded. “But as it is my duty, I insist, unless you’re looking to make your house lose some points. I suggest you go back to your dorms. Have a pleasant night.”

That said, he flashed her a polite smile, turned back to the Hall’s entrance and left, vaguely hearing several scoffs dancing along the group.

~

When Jude Duarte left the Slytherin dorm it was already past midnight. At last, the rest of the team had fallen asleep along the living room. She didn’t feel tired though, with the rush from the game still in her veins keeping her wide awake. 

Some nights, she enjoyed going out after curfew to take a stroll. There was something uncanny relaxing about it. No one rushing between classes, no one she needed to talk about quidditch or the usual nonsense people usually asked. Just silence. 

By the end of the corridor, she stopped in front of the now familiar room. Jude glanced around her once, making sure there weren’t any curious eyes and went in.

Jude suspected the chamber was an old meetings office that no one used anymore. Since the first time she’d found it, the same squared table rested in the middle, surrounded by three or four chairs. An old settee, and a mostly empty bookcase filled the rest of the small space. Nothing seemed different tonight. 

The dim moonlight coming from outside was the only thing that allow her to see around. 

She’d almost reached the settee, when something slither behind her. She spun around, reaching for her wand with all the agility she’d learned from duel trainings. 

Jude knew it was too late when she heard a husky voice whispering. “Incarcerous.”

She gasped as her arms folded behind her back. A scratchy rope securing them.  

In less than a second, she was pressed back against his hard body. One of his arms snaked around her waist, the other one buried on her hair and arching her neck, granting him access.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Cardan mumbled, spreading hot kisses down her throat. When he reached the base he sucked a little, sending hot streams down her veins. 

“Well you’ll find out that it’s quite difficult to get rid of a bunch of people who are high on adrenaline.” She pointed out, leaning her head back to his shoulder. “I might have slipped a few sleeping pills in their juice.” 

“You tricky witch.” He pressed harder against her backside. Letting her feel the effect she had on his body. Without being able to stop it, a breathy whimper left her lips. “Seems to me that I’ll have to take some of Slytherin’s points after all.”

“Don’t you dare.” She hissed, struggling inefficiently against the ropes. 

He just chuckled. His wicked hands now roamed under her Slytherin green hoodie, leaving goosebumps on her bare skin. “You might be captain on the field love, but you should realize you’re not the one in control here.”

In a swift movement, he turned her around and pulled the hoodie over Jude’s head, leaving it hanging from her tied arms. The fresh air made her shudder, she could feel her nipples hardening under her crop top. Before she could say anything else, Cardan crashed their lips together, his kiss fierce, tugging at her lower lip in a clear message. Mine. 

Jude didn’t realize he’d been moving them backwards until she bumped with the table. He helped her sat on top of it, settling between her thighs, grinding their bodies together.

She broke the kiss for a moment, breathing against his mouth. “You’re going to be in so much trouble when I’m off this ropes.” 

“Am I?” With no so gentle hands, he pushed her back against the table, his mouth curled in a predatory grin. “But you’re not now, are you?” 

Without her arms to help her up, Jude just glared at him. She realized how ragged her heartbeat was. The way he looked at her send a pulse through her core. Her bound arms twisted again, looking for a way out, but the rope didn’t waver. She could do nothing but lay there, at his mercy while he peeled her pants from her. 

No answer from her was expected, Cardan’s low chuckle floated in the room. “I thought so.”

He leaned and barely grazed her lips, pulling back when she tried to capture them and slid down her body. Leaving trails with his lips on her jaw, the base of her throat, the swell of her breasts. He lingered a moment on her nipples, circling them over her top with his tongue. Jude’s breath came out in shuddering whimpers, her body writhed below him trying to get some friction. Cardan took his lips lower, along her well toned torso. Her hips twitched as he found a sensitive spot next to her dagger tattoo, and sucked on it. 

At some point her knickers came off too. She swore at the feeling of Cardan’s teeth nibbling her inner thighs. He made a disapproving sound with his tongue. “From this moment Jude, for every sound leaving your lips, I’m going to take a point from your house. Am I clear?” 

Jude stared at him wide eyed, angrily biting her lip to avoid spilling all the curses that danced in her mind. He knew how seriously Slytherins took winning. Everything. The House Cup one of the most desired prizes. Fuck he knew how to play her. 

Without breaking eye contact he leaned down again, positioning himself barely centimeters away from her center. Something between dark and amused tainted his features.

“Congratulations on winning your game baby.” At that he closed the distance to her aching folds, tasting them with a long, ravening lick.

The last coherent thought on her mind was how lucky they were that she’d cast a silencing charm on the room when she arrived.

The House Cup could very well rot in hell.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

I was really really excited to do this since it’s the first crossover i’ve ever written. 

I’m not planning any particular story with this, buuut I’m not against writing more of this AU if I ever see (or any of you send) prompts that could fit *wink*

I hope you like it!! 

As a little extra, and since I’m becoming obsessed with doing this things, here are a couple of aesthetics for Slytherin!Jude and Ravenclaw!Cardan, just because I think they’re cute.

ciao!

[chachkayes]

Double Trouble

So... I wrote a spontaneous sister fic to @herrera-n-hayes ‘s newest fic post “The Four of Us”, where Amelia tells Link that they’re expecting baby number 2 on Christmas eve. Go read it first before this one! Link here. I got SUPER inspired to write a part 2 for it, where Amelia and link reveal to everyone else that they’re expecting, and this fic is that. It is quite possibly one of the fluffiest fics I’ve ever written. Many tears of happiness are shed in it. I love a good Christmas fic, and I have another Merhayes Christmas fic that I’ll be working on throughout the week. Anyways, enjoy!

“Wait, so what time are you guys coming over again?” Meredith asked her sisters in a group phone call. It was the evening of Christmas Day, and the sisters had made it tradition to have Christmas together as one large family ever since Scout was born. “Uh… I think we planned on heading over around 5pm? Right, Link?” Amelia asked her fiancé. “Yep. We’ll see you all soon.” Link’s voice rang through Mer’s phone. “Maggie, what about you?” Meredith asked her younger sister. “Oh, um, sorry! We were just packing some stuff into the car. We’re heading out in a few minutes.” Maggie replied. “Alright, well I’ll let you guys go then. I’ll see you soon!” And with that, Meredith hung up and headed downstairs to her children waiting impatiently for their aunts and uncles to arrive so they could open more presents. Luckily, Austin and Liam were quite content to sit in their rooms and play their new video games until their dad and Meredith called them down. Christmas was always an incredibly hectic time in the Hayes/Grey household, but Meredith and Cormac loved it.

Not long after, Maggie and Winston finally showed up at Meredith and Cormac’s house. Meredith and Maggie hugged once they got inside, as did Cormac and Winston. Everyone settled in and Maggie listened intently to the stories that her nieces and nephew were explaining to her. Their stories were certainly much more coherent now that they were 8, 11, and 14 – but they were still mostly nonsensical. Winston and Cormac brought in all the presents from the couple’s car. The kids got incredibly excited whenever they saw a big box with their name on it.

Just as all the adults had finally sat down and were talking, Amelia, Link, and Scout pulled into the driveway. “Ladies, it’s your turn this time.” Winston said with a chuckle as Meredith and Maggie stood up to meet Amelia and Link at their car. Link helped Scout out of his car seat and lead him inside while Meredith, Amelia, and Maggie gathered up every single present and brought them all in, in one trip. Scout happily greeted his uncles and then moved on to playing with his cousins. Cormac got up and walked over to the bottom of the stairs. “Austin, Liam, everyone is here!” He called for his sons, who quickly came downstairs and sat on the couch with the rest of the adults. Link and Amelia, and Winston and Maggie always got the boys something every year. They were family, after all.

45 minutes later and almost every present had been unwrapped, squealed over by the children, and ripped forcefully out of the boxes if it could be. There were only a few small gifts left to open. Maggie picked up two small boxes and handed them to Meredith and Amelia. “Oh, it’s got both of our names on it!” Amelia said as she smiled at Link. “Same here.” Meredith mentioned as Cormac wrapped his arm around her shoulder. As discreetly as he could, Winston began recording. Mer and Amelia quickly unwrapped the small boxes and opened the lid – each box revealing a positive pregnancy test. “Oh my god.” Cormac said with a laugh. “MAGGIE!” Amelia squealed in delight. “Are you serious?!” Meredith said, her jaw on the floor. “Is… are you guys completely serious?” She repeated, her voice breaking. “Totally serious. I’ve been trying not to cry all day.” Maggie responded as she wiped tears away from her eyes. “Oh my god.” Meredith said, standing up to hug her sister. “Oh my god!” Amelia repeated, doing the same. At this point, all three women were laughing and crying. “Aye, congrats man. I’m happy for you.” Cormac said, hugging Winston. “Same here.” Link said, joining the hug fest.

After what felt like a lifetime, everyone sat back down. Meredith leaned her head on her boyfriend’s chest, still sniffling and wiping away tears. “Wait, so have you told Richard yet?” Amelia asked, snuggling into Link. “No, not yet. I was planning on telling him tomorrow night during dinner.” Meredith smiled as another tear fell down her cheek. “Why are momma and aunties sad?” Scout said to Link, as he looked at his aunts and his mother, who were all tearing up. Everyone laughed at the young boy’s observations. “Oh, sweetie, we’re not crying cause we’re sad. We’re happy, Auntie Maggie is going to have a baby.” Meredith explained to her nephew. “Like my mommy and daddy?” Scout said casually, to which Amelia choked on her drink. “What did you say?” Maggie inquired, Meredith whipping her head around to look at Amelia. “I heard my mommy and daddy say last night that they’re going to have another baby.” Scout said, as if it were common knowledge, and turned back around to playing with his new toys.

“Amelia…” Meredith said, her voice cracking again. “We were, uh, going to wait to tell you guys since it’s still so early, but yeah. We’re having another baby.” Amelia admitted. Maggie and Meredith were both close to sobbing. “I’m so happy for you guys.” Meredith said through tears as she hugged Amelia and Maggie again. “I can’t believe we’re going to have kids so close in age!” Maggie said excitedly. “I’m so excited for more nieces or nephews. Hopefully at least one of you guys has a girl, I have so many clothes from when Zola and El were babies that I’ve had nothing to do with for the longest time.” Meredith said as she sat back down on the couch beside her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his torso and leaning her head on his chest, feeling wholly content. Liam and Austin came back downstairs, sitting beside their dad on the end of the couch. Zola, Bailey and Ellis cuddled up with Maggie and Amelia, while Scout sat with his dad and his Uncle Winston.

“Oh, Mer, there’s one more present under the tree. It’s for you.” Link said as he smirked and reached over to pick up a small present with Meredith’s name on it. Link began recording again, knowing exactly what was about to happen. “Oh, hey, look who it’s from!” Meredith said happily as she looked up at Cormac, who was smiling widely at her. “I wonder why I missed it this morning.” She added on. The reason she’d ‘missed’ it was because it’d actually never been there in the morning. Link and Amelia had brought it with them in order to help with the surprise, but she didn’t know that. Carefully, she unwrapped the small square box. Everyone watched intensely, as they knew what was happening. Cormac had gotten everyone involved in the planning for this very moment. The only person who didn’t know what was about to happen was Meredith, and maybe Scout, who had the excuse of being 5. The wrapping paper tore away to reveal a small ring box. Now, Cormac had boughten small rings for Meredith before, so she didn’t think too much of it, until she opened the box and found a beautiful, sparkling diamond ring. She looked up at him, her jaw dropped. He started, “I, uh, debated for a really long time how I’d go about this. Truthfully, the kids, and your family helped me out, they all thought it’d make most sense to ask you this on Christmas.” Meredith looked at Cormac, wide-eyed, barely breathing, and still holding the ring box. He continued, “Um, you and I know better than anyone else how precious time is, and how we have to make the most of every moment we have with the people we love. Before Abby died, she told me I had her permission to fall in love again. That she wanted me to be happy. But I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t think it was possible for me to fall in love with anyone again, that was, until I met you.”

A tear ran down Meredith’s cheek as she continued to look into Cormac’s eyes, and sniffles could be heard that were a result of the hardly contained tears coming from the pregnant women and their fiancés behind her. “You understood me, right from the moment I needed the understanding. I knew I loved you before we began dating. When you did your pro bono surgery day, that was the day that solidified for me, just how magnificent of a person you are, and that you were someone I wanted to love, every day for the rest of my life. And ever since we began dating, I’ve found more things to love you for every day. I love the way you love your kids, your sisters, your nephew, Austin and Liam, and me. And I love that we can always talk about Abby and Derek, when it’s just the two of us, or with the kids, and it’s never an issue. And as scary as this is for the both of us, I know that they’d want us to be happy. And god, Meredith, you make me so happy. You amaze me, every time we work together, or when I see you in the hallways, and every time I come home from work to you. And I feel like Abby would want this more than anyone. She sometimes berates me in my dreams for not asking you yet. So, with all that being said, Meredith Grey, will you marry me?” He finished. He and Meredith continued to keep direct eye contact. Amelia and Maggie had stopped trying to hold in their tear’s eons ago. At this point, they were sobbing. However, aside from the sniffling, the room was completely silent.

“Yes. A hundred thousand times, yes.” Meredith said breathlessly after a few moments, and the room erupted into cheers. Cormac took the ring box from Meredith’s hands and took the ring out, then he placed it on Meredith’s finger. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, then took another look at her ring. She showed off her ring to Maggie and Amelia, who were both complete messes. All 3 of the sisters were marrying the men they loved, and Amelia and Maggie were both ecstatic to be pregnant at the same time. Meredith couldn’t remember a Christmas ever being so filled with tears of joy, but she couldn’t complain. Everything about this Christmas had been perfect – for everyone.

[weasleydream]

Grenade

This is my participation for @firewhisky-kisses​ writing challenge! 

My prompts were “I would rather be hurt and be with you than be okay without you” and “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

This idea came to me after listening to Grenade - Bruno Mars (as you see i’ve been really creative for the title 🙈) 

Hope you’ll enjoy as much as I did!

Masterlist 

(gif not mine)

“George, I’m begging you, please, say something.”

Silence. 

“George!”

“You- you lied to me.”

“Hello boys!”

The twins turned toward me in the same movement, a pretty cute bewildered expression on their face. One of them - George, I reckoned - stared silently at me while the other one, who had to be Fred, smirked. 

“Looks like the snake stepped in the lion pit.” he said. 

“Remember big cat, a snake can bite.”

“Look at this George, she thinks she can scare us!”

“Pretty funny for a girl half our size.” answered George, who had apparently gained back his senses. 

“And half our talent.” added his twin. 

“Ouch!” I shouted. “That hurt!”

“Tell me Y/L/N, why are you here sitting between us at our table so early in the morning?”

“I saw you, I felt sorry for you and wanted to brighten your day with my presence.”

“At the beginning, yes, but after-”

“After nothing, Y/N!” 

I had never seen him in such a state of sadness. That was destroying me. 

“George, you don’t-”

“You said you loved me!”

“Hello boys!”

This time, and like every morning for the past two months, there was already room for me between them. I installed and began to eat my eggs, only to feel Fred moving next to me. He left, briefly patting George’s shoulder before disappearing in a crowd of sixth years. These scenes were becoming more and more usual, not that I was complaining. I loved George’s company, way more than Fred’s one. George was a soft guy, and softness was more than welcome in a life that was mine but decided by everyone but me. 

“After potions, do you think you can join me in the clock tower courtyard?” 

“Of course. Can I ask you why?” I asked when I noticed he was avoiding my gaze. 

After the longest potion class I ever had, I happened to hear George confessing his feelings for me, and I happened to confess my feelings for him. 

“I love you.”

“And I meant it!” I cried. “I never lied on my feelings for you George, trust me!”

“How can I trust you? How can I believe any word that comes from your mouth when it was all a lie?”

“Y/N, the Dark Lord is back. You have one mission: befriend someone close to Harry Potter.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I had never wanted any of this to happen. Not even in my worst nightmares had I imagined that two of the only people really counting for me would disappear of my life, pushed away by a betrayal I had never wanted. How could I have known? Until the end of my sixth year at Hogwarts, I didn’t even know my parents were Death Eaters. I was just a Slytherin girl, a pure-blood hanging out with other pure-bloods, a banal student who didn’t give a fuck about what didn’t concern her. 

But when the Dark Lord had truly come back, when he had threatened my parents to make them regret their volte-face after his disparition, everything had changed. What was before our sumptuous apartment in the heart of London became the headquarters of all the threatened former Death Eaters in desperate need of a chance for redemption. What were innocent discussions with my friends became prudent conversations about the most random subjects possible. What was a life became a living hell. 

But this darkness had brought the brightest light in my life when my parents had ordered me to get close to one of Harry Potter’s relatives. Deciding who I would get close to hadn’t been difficult; Fred and George Weasley were in their last year, like me. Approaching them hadn’t been hard too, it had been quite natural in fact. Becoming friend with them had been a piece of cake, and falling in love with George had been the easiest thing ever. 

But each time my parents asked me if I knew something else about Potter, the reality crushed me a bit more. I had tried to convince myself I wasn’t really playing with him, after all my feelings were sincere, but that was a lie. As much as my heart would beat at the mention of his name, as much as my cheeks would become red at the sensation of his lips on my skin, I was lying to the boy I loved. 

I had decided to tell him. Screw them, screw the Dark Lord, I had thought. George doesn’t deserve that, and if I have to be punished for telling him the truth, then that will be my redemption. Deep down, I had kept this foolish hope that he would shrug it off, enveloping me in one of his warm embraces, the ones that made me feel oh so safe and loved, and would tell me that it didn’t matter. That I loved him and he loved me, that nothing was more important. 

God, I was so wrong. As soon as the fatal words had come out of my mouth, I had felt the consequences on him. His heart breaking, his mind slowly understanding what I had done, why I had slipped between him and Fred this day during the breakfast. George was so hurt yet so angry, and I had just kept my head down, accepting all the hate Fred, who was there, had thrown me, fighting the tears that threatened to roll. George had said plenty of true things, that I was a filthy liar, that he would have been better without me, but there was one thing I couldn’t let him think. When he had asked bitterly why I had to pretend to love him, I had looked directly in his eyes and, seeing his tears through mine, I had whispered. 

“If there’s only one authentic thing in my life, it’s my love for you.”

From this day, the little light that had kept me sane disappeared. The end of the school year had seemed to last forever, and the glares absolutely each Gryffindor gave me were too much to bear. A week later, George seemed to be back to his old self, except that before me he would have never looked at someone like he looked at me. During the following year, my life became worse and, from what I heard, George’s became way better. He had realized his dream, he was happy running his shop with Fred, and nothing could have made me happier than to see his smiling face on the Prophet’s pages. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

George, 

I know you hate me but please, trust me. You’ve been betrayed. Whatever you’re preparing, be sure it’s worth the risk, because Death Eaters will be waiting for you. 

Stay safe. 

I love you. 

The letter had arrived in the first hours of the day, attached to an exhausted little white owl. Of course, the parchment didn’t need to be signed as George knew perfectly who was behind this mysterious warning. Honestly, he didn’t know what to think about this, and alone in the Burrow’s kitchen, the only light in the room coming from his wand, he felt more lost than he ever had before. It felt like he was surrounded by the unknown, Merlin, even what he felt was unknown for him, and yet he wanted to believe in her. Every fiber of his heart screamed him that he loved her, that he would have done anything for her, and that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance she would do the same for him. After all, this piece of paper covered in a shaky writing was a proof, wasn’t it? A cold fear sent shivers down his spine when he thought of the risks she had taken. 

Then, the doubts arrived. What if she had been caught? What if it was a lie? What if she was in more danger than he soon would be? What if it was another conspiracy from her parents? 

“George? What are you doing here?”

Another little light had appeared in the kitchen, this time coming right from Fred’s wand. Without a word, George gestured toward the letter and Fred took it. His face was twisted with a frown of incomprehension until he read the last line. 

“What the hell is that?” It was funny to see how, when it came to Y/N, Fred was always in a terrible rage when George didn’t know what to feel. “Don’t tell me you believe that?” he asked throwing the paper away. 

“And if it was true? Fred, imagine she’s heard that and-”

“And betrayed her parents? When you think about it, that’s all she does, it wouldn’t be that surprising.” Fred laughed in disbelief. “George, Y/N is a liar! A liar, you hear me? Don’t trust that bullshit. She’s written that because her parents asked her to, she-”

He stopped when George abruptly got up and rested his hands on the counter, his gaze lost in the pale light slowly illuminating the sky. Fred sighed and glanced once more at the letter, his eyes stopping on the last words. 

“Stop thinking about this, George. It’s not worth it, trust me.”

Fred had never been more wrong in his life, and he understood it as soon as the seven Potters and their protectors rose into the sky to get Harry safe to the Burrow. Later that night, when he was sitting next to George and sure he would be okay, there was only one coherent thought in his head. 

Y/N warned us and now she is in danger. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I knew that was coming. I had known since the day He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came back. I thought I was prepared. I thought I knew what fear was, after living terrified for months because I was surrounded by Death Eaters and I had betrayed them. But I had to admit the ice running through my veins and scratching my heart a bit more with each second were worse than all I could have imagined. Cotton would have been more solid than my legs at the moment, when I was walking on my toes in the middle of the crowded corridor of Hogwarts. From the moment I had apparated in Hogsmeade, following the advice of whoever animated Potterwatch, and rushed into the tunnel leading to the castle to find an empty Room of Requirements, the only thought giving me enough strength to always make one more step was that an imminent mortal danger was hanging over us, over George, and that I still had to redeem myself. Ironically, my potential death, or confrontation with my parents, or whatever could happen to me in the next hours, all of that was nothing compared to the fear that maybe George would hate me forever. 

I was so deep in my thoughts that I hadn’t realized I had bumped into someone and I barely muttered a sorry before walking away. Or trying to walk away. 

“Y/N?”

Of course, I had bumped into George. Who else? As I mentally cursed whoever could be responsible, George slowly put his hands on my shoulders. 

“Y/N, look at me. Hey, look at me…”

His voice, barely audible, didn’t hold any trace of the hatred I had dreaded. It seemed calm, an appearance of course, and surprised too. He slowly, gently, lifted my chin. The world around us was like gone, and the only thing that mattered was the sweet warmth brought by George’s touch. I grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on my cheek.

“What are you doing here?” he murmured, and despite the noise surrounding us, I heard perfectly. 

“I needed to come. George, I wanted to tell you-”

“No.” He had placed his finger on my lips and a tiny smile parted his lips. “Whatever you have to say is less important than the fact that I love you.”

And he leaned in. He had said he loved me a thousand of times, but it had never sounded so genuine. We had shared plenty of kisses, but no one had ever carried so much emotions. Love, fear, worry, forgiveness, this simple contact between our lips was in fact an unspoken promise, the one that nothing would never tear us apart anymore. The one that once this war over, we would live our love story the way we should have lived it from the beginning.  

The second thing I had dreaded the most was Fred’s reaction. I had expected shouts for sure, maybe one or two curses, but never in my dreams had I imagined he could hug me the way he did, in a bone-crushing hug and muttering “Sorry, I’m sorry.” as if his life depended on it. 

“I should be the one saying that.” I said softly. “I’m the one who lied to you and-”

“And risked your life to warn us.” finished George. “Without you, I would have lost more than my ear, love.”

“Your- what?”

I turned vividly to him and- How the hell could I have missed that gaping hole on the side of his face? I literally felt the blood living my face and the tear forming in my eyes. 

“Fuck, sorry, I thought you had seen, I just- oh, sorry Y/N.”

I threw my arms around his neck and sobbed like a baby. I didn’t know why that affected me that much, and I thought about it for a few seconds until the devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear. 

“You haven’t warned him soon enough. You should have gone to see him in person. You should have given him more informations. You-”

“-should have been more tactful, dear brother.” Fred was making fun of George, and a part of my brain wondered how he could still be joking while the other kept focusing on my guilt. 

“I’m sorry George…” I finally choked out when my sobs had eventually calmed down. “If I had warned you sooner, or-”

“Or nothing love.” he cut me. He cupped my cheeks with his big hands and forced me to look at him. “Without you, I would be dead. Your warning saved me Y/N, because I already knew we would be surrounded. You saved my life, love, never apologize for that. Okay?”

I nodded weakly and took a deep breath before following George and Fred in the Great Hall. 

The battle had only just begun, yet I felt like we were totally screwed up. Even though I had heard plenty of things during the meetings my parents organized at home, I could have never expected that our enemy had gathered such a great army. We had the advantage of the place, because each of us knew Hogwarts and its newest defenses by heart, but that was all. The Death Eaters were cruel, bloodthirsty and had no limits. And there was so many of them! For each Hogwarts student, professor or member of the Order of the Phoenix, there were five or six Death Eaters. Between two spells, I caught a glimpse of a girl arriving on her broom and landing next to Fred. I was back to back with George, Fred covering our right and Percy Weasley our left. 

Slowly, the group of Death Eaters we were facing disappeared, our enemies being on the floor and having run away for the others. The girl on the broom left, and Fred immediately pushed us to move. 

“Come on, they need help near the Great Hall, these bastards are trying to get in there.”

But when we finally arrived in front of the Great Hall, it was clear that the situation had evolved. Plenty of powerful wizards and witches had routed the Death Eaters. By mutual agreement, we decided to split in two teams to protect each end of the corridor, and after a few minutes of argument, Fred left with Percy and George stayed with me. 

From this moment, I would be unable to say what was happening. A new wave of enemies was hitting us, and despite the dozen of wands come for backup, we were losing. The bodies were accumulating around us, and sometimes I stopped for a second when my eyes fell on a known face. Without even realizing it, the fights had brought George and I far from the Great Hall, and when George fell after spreading his ankle, the provisary infirmary was way too far for me. I did my best to drag him in a broom closet dissimulated by a statue. 

“Are you okay? George, how do you feel?”

I was clearly panicking and only relaxed a bit when George pulled me against him. 

“Shut up, would you? Ginny’s Pygmy Puff has already hurt me more than that.”

“You idiot…” I murmured. 

It was a strange feeling, being here, safe in George’s arms when a war was raging outside, killing more people we knew with each second. I eventually looked up and met his gaze. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered. “If you knew how worried I was after your letter… If they had done anything to you…”

“You shouldn’t have worried, not when you were the one risking your life and losing an ear…” My voice broke when I thought of how he could have been killed. 

“Love, I’d rather be hurt with you than be okay without you.” He rested his forehead on mine and gently stroked my cheeks as I desperately hid my hands in his soft hair. “If a missing ear and a spread ankle are all it takes for me to be with you, then I’ll gladly accept it.”

“It’s unfair, George… I don’t want you to suffer, I don’t want you risking to die- I just-”

“Hey, I’m not dying yet baby! I’m too precious for this world.” he winked at me and smiled goofily. Oh, how I adored this smile!

I rolled my eyes before helping him getting up. 

“We should bring you back to the Great Hall. You’ll be able to stand?”

“I don’t need to be able to stand, I just need to be able to cast spells!”

“Because you think I’ll carry you? In your dreams, boy! You walk and I protect us.”

“You know you’re hot when you give me orders?” I glanced at George in disbelief, but immediately blushed furiously when I caught his eyes. “It reminds me of this night when you-”

“Shut up!”

I precipitately stuck my hand on his mouth. I was sure I knew the voices that were coming toward us, and if they heard us, I was pretty sure that wouldn’t end well. 

“Hit me.”

His eyes rounded and George looked at me like I was getting crazy. 

“George, hit me, now!”

He reluctantly obliged and I slipped out of the closet rubbing my cheek. I was right, I knew the three Death Eaters that were passing just in front the closet George was still hiding in. 

“Y/L/N?” one of them shouted. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Took care of someone.” I grumbled. “Where are you going?”

“Rookwood is leading a few of us for a little show in a corridor of the east wing. Come with us, it will be fun!”

With that, the three of them walked away and a sigh of relief escaped my mouth. 

“Y/L/N?”

I jumped and turned toward the Death Eater. 

“This someone fought pretty well, didn’t they?” he said pointing at the bruise forming on my cheek.

“He’s in a much worse state than me.”

And he definitely left. When his silhouette disappeared at the corner of the corridor, I rushed to the closet and helped George getting out. 

“So you took care of me, huh?”

“Shut up and walk.” I groaned. 

Our way to the Great Hall was pretty uneventful. As it seemed, all the enemies were getting to the east wing, and even though none of us said it out loud, we weren’t less dreading it. Anybody could be there, and it would get very dangerous soon. Despite his goodwill, walking was becoming a big struggle for George, and I ended up supporting most of his weight until we finally reached the Great Hall. Madam Pomfrey almost immediately handed George a vial before disappearing as fast as she had appeared. I waited until George had finished all the potion before grabbing his face and kiss him passionately. 

“What was that for?” he asked. His eyes were still closed and a small smile was on his lips, and I admired him until he opened his eyes to look at me. If I died tonight, this was the image I wanted to bring with me. 

“I love you George. I’ve loved you since the day I slipped between you and Fred in this same room. Remember that.”

“Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

“Because it’s probably a goodbye, love.”

I took a step backward, and George fell on the floor. I had always been good in casting nonverbal spells, and as it seemed I mastered the stunning spell. George couldn’t come with me, because what I was going to do was probably a suicide mission. 

This is my redemption. This is why I came here. I’ll stop this bastard of Rookwood. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

This was the calm after the storm, the kind of silence that seems so strange, almost uncomfortable after all the noise you’ve heard. It was safe to say that everyone in the Great Hall had heard enough screams for the night and even probably for a lifetime, and now advices, words of comforts, cries and futile stories were shared in the lowest tone possible to not disturb this somehow peaceful silence. 

The Weasley family was gathered in a corner, all of them sitting close to each other in an attempt of convincing themselves that the war was finally over. They were all here: Bill hugging tightly Fleur, Ginny sitting straight between Charlie and Percy, Molly in Arthur’s arms, both thanking the skies that their family was still alive, Ron with his arm wrapped around Hermione’s shoulders, and Fred and George, waiting anxiously for Y/N’s return. 

She had disappeared just after stupefying George, and the latter had been woken up by Charlie who had been the first to join the Great Hall after the end of the battle, Y/N having begged Madam Pomfrey to let him stunned as long as possible. After that, George and Charlie had waited for their family to come back and George had been unable to leave them to look for Y/N. So he had waited and waited.

Slowly but surely, the flow of survivors reaching the Great Hall decreased, and about an hour later, only two or three people stepped occasionally in the room. However, the more the time passed, the more lifeless bodies were brought by volunteers by another door on the side of the room, and George was simply unable to look in this direction. By now, no matter how hard he tried to keep hope, a vicious fear was crawling along his spine and a devious voice kept murmuring in his head that she was dead. Sometimes, when he glanced at the front door or, when he had the courage, at the side door, his heart would stop for a second. A glimpse of Y/H/C hair, a black jacket like the one she was wearing, his mind seemed to be focused on the details remembering him of Y/N. 

That’s why, tired of this sickening feeling each time his hopes were disappointed, he stopped looking around and fixed his knees. No one tried to talk to him, not even Fred who felt highly responsible, because George had told him she had probably gone to the east wing and he was there too. Fred didn’t know it and he would probably never, but Y/N had prevented a terrible explosion from killing him. 

That’s when, without any warning sign, someone slipped between George and Fred. 

“Hello boys!”