#who was drinking and dancing alone all by herself up there and screaming the lyrics during

[psychoticwillgraham]

tfw ur so good at drag that ur very presence shakes the head honcho of the scene to her very core bc my potential to be a real star terrifies her bc she’s not and bc im better than her. who also tries to sabotage my career opportunities and cut my career at the knees so I’ll never find success just bc she’s pissed that I’m extremely beloved here and she isn’t. imagine having THAT big of an inflated ego from years of being coddled and being around yes men who do her every bidding, that a simple, tiny dog hair covered king, strikes that much fear into her.

I’ll definitely say that my fans are PASSIONATE like seriously. like ppl came to the show JUST for me and agreed to all vote for me so that I could finally get my flowers. I rlly hope somebody got a video of when the audience vote for the win was, bc my ears were ringing after the applause.

[lyramundana]

SCENTED

@skzms based on the story I have in mind + that Rebel Virus I dreamed about

Something was off with these people.

Vivi was of the belief that 50% of the image idols showed on tv was either an exageration of reality or completely fake. And after sharing space with them for months and seeing them from a personal perspective, it was confirmed. Well, it should be obvious even without seeing them in person, that none of them were totally transparent with the public. None.

It was only when the cameras were turned off that they were allowed to be themselves. To speak to whoever they wanted to, to drink, to party like normal people. Only when they were hidden from the public eyes. Always in secret, always keeping the flawless persona that people expected, demanded from them. The minimal break in their masks could mean disaster for their entire careers. Vivi understood it, she found it stupid, but who was she to fight a cultured followed by a whole country?

So not even she could supress her utter shock and confusion when, out of nowhere, the same idols she knew for being little perfect angels started to do shit out of the non-written script. At first it wasn't that obvious, just some mishaps that everyone interpreted as mistakes. Getting caught partying on a night club with friends, openly flirting with fans beyond what was socially accepted by their parasocial partners, dressing in certain ways, etc. Vivi didn't think much about it, just felt they were being sloppy out of exhaustion.

But then it grew, and more idols began to follow that line. There were scandals, big ones. Secret parties without the staff's permission, being drunk in public, photos of them going into love hotels with different people, uploading songs with explicit lyrics that couldn't be excused and openly talking about inapropiate topics. The companies couldn't control them, the fans' attempts of sabotage were useless. In fact, it all seemed to just motivate them. Pushing them to do worse.

And this is how she ended up right here, in the patio of an expensive night club, with loud pop music blasting from the huge speakers, neon-lights sparkling in her eyes and breathing the cold air of Seoul. They wanted to celebrate the sucess of the show and reward everyone's hard work in it, so Vivi and her crew were obviously invited to the party. She was currently sitting on a wide, comfortable sofa, all by herself, watching the people get shit-faced and scream lyrics with all their passion with a glass on her hand. She had been with them minutes ago, dancing and singing the lyrics she knew with her friends, until her feet screamed for relief and her throat for some hydration. It only took her a sip to recover her energy, so she should have gona back to the group already. Vivi wasn't Vivi if she wasn't in the centre of a dancefloor, getting lost in the music and filling her throat with delicious alcohol until the couldn't remember her own name. But there she was, sitting alone pathetically in a corner long after her supposed five minutes break. Why? She didn't even feel tired yet. Why didn't she just move and joined the fun?

"Because of them", her annoying sub-conscious suplied.

Oh right. Them.

She turned her head to the club's second floor, a huge balcony that was the VIP zone. All idols were reunited there and having their own fun inside the local. The staff in charge of organizing the party rented the whole stablishment only for their celebrities, giving them an entire separate space from the regular people. Vivi would've though it was a snobby gesture, but considering the recent scandalous behaviour the idols displayed, it was probable that the staff just wanted to ensure they didn't pull anything with citizens.

The only connection the VIP zone had with the outdoor party was that balcony, the same one where Vivi saw certain couple hanging out when she was about to return. They were lost in their converstation, but throwing casual glances to the dancefloor to where she was headed, and Vivi's body turned back by instinct. Last thing she wanted was having eye contact with them and have her night ruined by the awkwardness.

Things hadn't been the same since that stupid game of truth or dare, and she spent this last week avoiding them like the plague. Keeping the texts short, hiding when they were walking down the same hallway and doing all kind of things to not face them. Was incredibly childish from her part? Absolutely, and she wasn't proud of it. She was never the type to run away from her problems, always choosing to handle them quickly before they grew into much bigger burdens.

But was this even a problem? She didn't know anymore. And how could she handle something she didn't know? Things with them were so weird, like nothing she ever felt before. They always managed to keep her on her toes.

She liked it as much as she dreaded it. Because with them, she felt like losing control. She felt like being vulnerable. And that just couldn't be.

She took another sip from her glass, hoping it'll help her body feel warmer. Another thing she didn't like about this country: The weather. She was a southern spanish girl with australian roots. Cold was practically a foreign concept to her.

Well, maybe it didn't help she was wearing a short dress with her shoulders exposed but c'mon, it was a party. She wasn't going to dress up all covered like a nun. Sometimes, being gorgeous meant suffering a bit.

-I can't believe it. You're sitting here alone instead of having fun? The world is ending.

Her mental monologue was cut short with the voice. She turned to see non other than Jake standing there, hands in his pockets and looking down at her with a grin.

- I'm just taking a break before my feet kill me and then I'll go back. Dancing with heels isn't as smooth as it looks, you know?

-Really? You make it seem so easy when you're on stage..

-Yeah, that's kinda the point of it. I have to be graceful and elegant when I'm up there. The public doesn't need to know I don't have any blood circulation down here when I finish.

He let out a breathy chuckle, looking away. Vivi felt this converstation isn't going anywhere, but she can't help the little tick in her heart when she saw him aproaching her with that friendly demeanor, with that small grin that hasn't changed one bit. Hell, coming to Seoul has given her more headaches that she signed up for..

-What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the VIP zone, with the royalty?

-Jay needed help in the bathroom - he replied shrugging his shoulders.

-Seriously? What kind of help? Another set of hands for..? -she grinned mischeviously.

-Grabbing his hair while he emptied his stomach, you twisted-fuck. - he made a disgusted face and she laughs. - Now really, what are you doing here? It's unnatural of you to not being out there raising chaos.

-I told you, I'm taking a break. Nothing weird, I swear.

He looked at her with a pensive gaze. He didn't believe her, but he wasn't going to pry more. She mentally thanked him.

Suddenly, a wheeze of air hit them and Vivi's body trembled unconsciously. She hugged herself in an attempt to ease the coldness. The boy noticed.

-Here. - he took off his jacket and threw it at her exposed legs. It wasn't very big, but it covered her enough to feel better. She jumped a little in surprise and glanced at the cloth, then at him. -It's warmer inside, so I don't need it. We don't want the star to freeze herself before the finals. - he winked at her, and she didn't even try to supress her smile. -Of course not. I'm not going anywhere without that trophy.

-I know you're not. - he turned away, walking towards the club. -Don't do anything stupid, Vivi. I can only take care of one baby tonight.

-Don't worry, I'll be a good girl -he scoffed loudly. - By the way, Jake, -he stopped, not looking at her- Thank you for coming.

He blinked, and goes back without answering, but she knows better. She smiled to herself and laid back on the sofa, closing her eyes and relaxing, her glass already empty She loved the party life more than anyone, but sometimes it feelt great to just sit down and don't move. She accomodated the jacket to cover more skin. She wasn't looking at it but she knew just by the texture that it costed more than her current apartment.

She crossed her arms, letting the relaxing sound of her friends' happy screams and singing fill her senses. They barely got time to relax since the show started. Maybe this gave them the final push to do their best next week.

Vivi couldn't calculate how much time passed since Jake left, but just as her mind was slipping a little into dreamland, she felt the bland surface of the sofa sinking at her right. She didn't bother to check who it was. The smell of expensive masculine cologne struck her nose.

-Have you forgotten something, Jackie?

-This dress looks good on you.

She stood up so fast that her head pounded at the sudden movement and she almost fell face down on the ground, her eyes wide like those of an owl's.

A firm hand placed against her cleavage avoided the catastrophe.

-Woah, easy there, baby. Did we scare you? - he let out a deep chuckle.

-Well, it seems she was expecting someone else.

She stared at them perplexed, feeling her heart working faster than usual. The couple she had been avoiding since the start of the week and the reason she was sitting here in the first place was right-the fuck-there.

Lee Minho and Han Jisung.

Of course they looked straight out of a fashion photoshoot, even with Jisung's messy hair and his tie undone, and Minho with his smugged make-up and his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the valley of his chest. Knowing them, there were plenty of things they could've been doing to end up looking like that..

"Stop right the fuck there, horny idiot. We don't want to see where this thought leads. Now it's not the time".

-Hey guys. Shit, I thought..., I didn't hear you coming. - she composed herself quickly, accidentally shaking Jake's jacket off a bit.

Minho glanced at it while Jisung just looked at her. The first was standing on his feet in front of them while the younger was sitting right next to her, with an arm around the backrest.

-Sorry, you just looked so cute like that, all peaceful and relaxed. We didn't want to disturb you. - Jisung let out a chuckle that didn't meet his eyes and smoothly moved closer to her. She felt his fingers reaching out from the backrest and brushed strands of her hair. His eyes shifted to her red locks as he twiddled them mindlessly. -What are you doing here all alone?

Is it so weird seeing someone sitting down and resting?

-I'm a bit tired, but I was about to go back to the party. -she shook her head softly in an attempt to stop the notion of his fingers, but he only grabbed more strands and continued, eyes finally turning to her. -What are you two doing here? You shouldn't be seen with me. People here get wrong ideas very quickly.

-Just wanted to check on you, that's all. - Minho answered this time, staring down at her. -We saw from the balcony and thought to come down and talk a bit.

The balcony? What the fuck? She specifically tried to choose a spot where it would practically impossible for them to see her. They shouldn't have been able to, unless..

Unless they were actively searching for her.

She gulped, feeling nervous all of sudden.

-It's fine, really, I don't need anyone checking on me. Even I need to take breaks from time to time. These week has been crazy. -she felt the jacket slowly falling off her legs and quickly grabbed it, fixing it back to its original position.

She flattened it a bit with her hands, careful of winkles. When she raised her head, she found both boys glaring at the cloth. Uh? Weird.

-I never seen this one before. Is it new? -Jisung asked, eyes fixed there.

Had she been sober, she would've noticed his voice sounded lower than before.

-Oh, this? -she pointed at it. - Nah, it's from Jake. He passed by earlier.

-We know. - Minho interrupted her rather rudely. He and Jisung exchanged a tense look. - But how come do you have his jacket over you?

They sounded deadly serious, almost threatening. However, her fuzzy brain didn't catch on any of it.

-Well, we were chatting and I got cold, so he lend me his jacket right here and then left. It looks cool, doesn't it?. - she wrapped it around herself, smiling.

But they weren't smiling. Quite the opposite, actually. If looks could burn, the jacket would have been reduced to ashes at that moment.

-Take it off -the older boy said.

His tone was so outright demanding not even her half-drunken brain could let it pass this time. It sounded like when he was in his choreographer mode, all dominant and firm.

Vivi was confused, both by the orders and the tone he used. What the fuck was wrong with him?

-What? - she gave him the chance to explain himself. Maybe she understood wrong, maybe she missed some words.

-Take that thing off. Now. -he let out an angry scowl, and Vivi just felt more confused and even annoyed. Just what was going on? Why was he reacting like this?

"You have an idea, but you don't want to think about it", once again, her subconscious intervened when she least needed it.

She looked at Jisung for answers, but the boy had a similar expression as his boyfriend, equally dark.

Tehn, another wheeze came and she hugged herself to shield her body from the sudden coldness. Minho's face softened and Jisung wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her against him, sighing.

-Poor baby, you're freezing- he caged her with this arms, and she hated to admit the gesture worked better than the jacket. He looked at her and pulled her bangs off her face, fingers brushing her blushing cheek. His free hand went to secure her waist. - We can't have our baby getting sick, right?

God, she tried to remain strong, she really did, but she couldn't control the funny feeling in her legs whenever Jisung used that honey-laced voice. Everytime she heard it, she felt like melting into a puddle.

Minho sat on her other side, getting worringly close too.

-But darling, if you're that cold, you don't need this -he grabbed the jacket in a tight grip, forming a fist, and took it off her lap on a smooth movement. -You have us.

-What do you..?

She cut herself off as she felt something big and warm falling slowly onto her legs. She turned to see Minho placing it gently, making sure it covered as much skin as possible. Then Jisung releashed her only to take off his own jacket and wrapped it around her naked shoulders, which also needed some warmness. The both smiled lovingly at the sight and caged her body between them. Minho had his face nestled in her neck, drawing circles in her tighs, while Jisung kissed her forehead as he grabbed her again by the waist.

-Let's stay like this for a moment, okay kitten? - Minho mumbled, his hot breath directly against her skin, and she shivered. He pressed his nose on her pulse point, humming. -Mm, you already got some of Sungie's smell on you. I love it.

The mentioned was scratching her nape softly, in slow motions. His lips on her temple as he replied. -Much better then.

Vivi was going through the existencial crisis of her life. She wanted to vomit, scream, giggle, sprint running and faint all at once. She was sure her face matched her hair right now. Her body, that been struggling with the cold minutes earlier, felt suddenly warm enough to fry eggs in it, and she knew it had nothing to do with the two jackets covering her.

"They're always making you feel warm"

Her emotional turmoil was interrupted by the loud ringing of a phone. Jisung groaned and let her go, pulling out his phone and looking at the screen, clicking his tongue. He said something to Minho in korean and the older looked very annoyed, but let her go too. Both of them stood up slowly, fixing their clothes and looking at her.

-We're leaving, they're asking for us. -Minho explained, pulling his bangs back.

Vivi just stared at them with big doe eyes, still processing what the fuck just happened. She grasped the hem of Jisung's jacket hugging her. It felt comfy and smelled just like his cologne. It made her feel funny for some reason.

"You know the reas-" " Shut the fuck up already"

-Okay. - that was the only answer her brain could muster. She blamed it on the alcohol mixed with her tiredness, totally. She turned her head and her eyes fell on Jake's jacket, which had somehow ended on the grass. She reached out to get it..

But Jisung was faster. He went for it so fast that it almost looked like he didn't want her to touch it.

-We'll return it to him, don't worry. -he said with a tight smile. -You can keep ours. They suit you.

Minho nodded, tilting his head at with a cheshire-like smile.

-You look just like you're supposed to.

Vivi blinked in confusion. What did that even mean? Was his english failing him again? That didn't make sense.

They shifted on their feet, glancing at the local and at her, seemingly unsure of what to do next. Eventually, they turned to walk back inside, but Jisung winked at her before going.

Vivi watched then until they dissapeared from her sight. She blinked once, then twice, then thrice. And her mind came to the final, solid conclusion:

What in the seven circles of hell just happened here?

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

Meanwhile in the club..

-Dude, please, don't let me do that again. I think I'm dying. -Jay moaned, head dropped against Jake's shoulder.

-You can't die. Cockroaches can last a nuclear bomb. You'll live. -Jake patted him in the head like he'll do with a child.

-Are you calling me a cockroach?

-That'll be insulting for the poor creatures.

Jay huffed, but was too weak to insult him back, resorting to just getting away from him. Jake chuckled at his act and enjoyed the tranquility.

-Hey, Shim -someone called him by his surname -You dropped this.

He had something hit his shoulder softly. It didn't hurt, but the strenght behind the impact surprised him. He took it and realized in shock it was his leather jacket, crumpled into a deformed ball.

It was the one he lend to Vivi earlier. What the..?

He turned around to meet non-other than Han Jisung, from his senior group Stray Kids, looking down at him with a sneer. In the duration of his career, he spoke a total of three times with the guy, and it was only in awards shows to greet each other.

So where the fuck was this sudden agressivity coming from? And what was he doing with his jacket? Did Vivi tell them something weird..?

-Next time I see her wearing it, I'll throw it in the trash. -the older boy gritted his teeth, his tone sending a dangerous warning.

Jake saw the other one, Lee Know, behind the boy. Obviously, because these two always came in a package. His eyes were even more intimidating.

-I just gave it to her because she was cold, mate. That's al-

-Hyung -Minho interrupted with a growl. - Call us anything other than that and I'll personally punch your teeth out, brat.

There's a tense silence between them. Even his members had dropped the converstation and shift nervously at the scene.

Jake glares at the men. He's been suspecting it for a while, but it sounded too absurd in his head. Now this just confirms it all.

-She doesn't deserve what you assholes are doing to her. Stop stringing her along with nonsense and let her do whatever she wants. -he replied with a huff.

Jisung breathed a sarcastic chuckle and walked towards him.

-Now listen here, you son of a b-

-Minho, Han, everything okay?

They all turned to the voice. Christopher Bang was standing there, arms crossed and staring down at his members, hitting his foot against the ground.

Minho clenched his hands into fists, but said nothing, his lips sealed in a tight line. Jisung was breathing heavily, looking like he was about to burst a vein, teeth gritting. None of them answered to their leader, who looked progressively annoyed.

-It was nothing, Chris -Jake intervened, bowing. - We were just discussing something. Nothing else happened.

-Thank you for the input, Jake, but I was asking them. -he pointed his head at the boys, but Jake relented.

-Trust me, they did nothing. They just returned me my jacket, and in return, I was giving them a good advice that I think they should really follow. - both men glared at him again, but he ignored it, going back with his own group, jacket under his arm.

"Jesus, Vivi. What the hell did you get yourself into?"

Extra:

Vivi's friends, watching her come back with two brand jackets that are obviously not hers: What do you have in there?

Vivi, refusing to acknowledge it: A smoothie.

Taglist: @channieandhisgoonsquad @2chopsticks2eyes @queenmea604 @sweetracha

[sunrisefairy]

Chocolate

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word count: 1.8k 

Summary: Y/N drunkenly confesses her feelings for George thinking it is actually Fred she’s talking to.

Warning: mentions of alcohol

A/N: I’m having way too much fun writing again, any feedback is always welcomed and if you have any ideas for future one shots let me know :)

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972​ my first little tag list, my heart ❤️ if anyone else wants to be added, just message me

The Gryffindor common room floor feels like it’s about to take flight with the vibrations from the multiple speakers set up around the room. The Gryffindor quidditch team had won the first game of the year against Slytherin so of course celebrations were in order.

You found herself in the middle of the makeshift dance floor with Alicia and Angelina dancing and singing, no screaming to the music. You jump up on the nearby table taking a big swig of some fire whiskey. You start to swing your hips to the music and continue yelling the lyrics to your favourite song which just started playing. You hear a few people below whistling and cheering you on.

“Yeah! Go Y/N! Woo!” You think it was Angelina calling out, acting as your hype woman.

As the song comes to an end you jump off the table feeling like a rock star. As your feet make contact with the floor you stumble. Your legs seem to give way, maybe it was because of the way you landed but it was most likely because of the amount of alcohol running through your system, you fell to the floor.

“Woah Y/N are you okay?” Alicia was immediately by your side helping you up. You couldn’t control the giggles escaping from your mouth.

“M’ fine babe just need ‘nother drink” your words mixing into each other.

Alicia shakes her head at your drunken state, “I think you need to slow down love. C’mon, come sit down while I get you some water” Alicia guides you over to the couches on the corner of the common room, looking for a free one which isn’t occupied by a couple making out, she spots George sitting alone, perfect she thinks, a mischief glint in her eyes.

“Hey, do you mind watching this one for a minute?” Alicia practically pushes you onto the couch and you might as well be sitting on George’s lap with how close you are to him. The redhead just laughs and nods his head at Alicia who disappears back through the crowd.

The thing with being drunk is your vision tends to get blurry which is exactly what had happened to you, your surroundings becoming fuzzy. Fred and George can be tough to tell apart on a good day so add

some alcohol into the mix and some might find it near impossible. You always prided yourself on the ability to tell the 2 twins apart, noticing subtle differences in their appearance and the way they spoke which helped you realise which one was which. Although the butterflies George never failed to give you when he was in the same room as you, helped you in telling who was who. However right now in this moment you were absolutely certain the redhead sitting next to you was Fred, oh how wrong you were.

“Havin’ a good night then little one?” George says, placing an arm around your shoulder in an attempt to steady your swaying body, maybe using that as an excuse to be close to you.

“Oh loads” you yell over the thumping music, “my foot is kinda sore though, actually ya know what might fix that?” George is too entertained by your drunken rambling to answer. “I think some chocolate will help, don’t ya think chocolate just fixes everything, maybe chocolate has somethin’ magical in it. Don’t you think chocolate is just delicious?” you hiccup, George nods amused.

Your eyes widen as you’re reminded of something “Oh Freddie, I think I know why I love chocolate so much” George doesn’t think he heard you right, did you just call him Fred? He goes to correct you, but you keep talking.

“Chocolate tastes so warm and sweet, it reminds me of Georges eyes, his eyes are so warm and sweet to look at” you say almost dreamingly, George shuts his mouth pretty quickly. “George has the prettiest eyes. I mean he’s got the prettiest everything. His face is like, like it was crafted by angels. And he’s so funny, everything he says makes me smile, I like him so much Freddie.”

George thinks he must be dreaming, surely he hadn’t heard you correctly. You feel your eyes growing heavier by the second, resting your head on the redhead’s shoulder.

“Freddie, promise me you won’t tell George, I couldn’t take it if he doesn’t like me back.” You say curling into his side.

George doesn’t know what to say, part of him wants to tell you that he isn’t actually Fred, that he’s George and he does like you back but the other part of him kind of feels embarrassed he didn’t say anything sooner, so he opts for:

“I’m sure he likes you too.” He doesn’t think you heard it though, judging from the light snores coming from your mouth.

At that point Alicia is back in front of them, thanking George for watching you while she was gone, with a little struggle she is walking you back to your dorm.

~~~

The next morning George is sitting with Lee and Fred in the great hall, spilling everything Y/N said last night.

“I knew she liked you!” Lee exclaims, “like she’s always staring at you during class.”

Fred chuckles “maybe she thought she was staring at me.”

George shoves him in the chest, shaking his head. The tall boy is nervous to see you today. He isn’t sure what he is going to say, George knows he needs to tell you that he feels the same way but a part of him is worried you didn’t actually mean what you said. You were very drunk and drunk people tend to say some random stuff. He doesn’t have much time to dwell over it because he spots you and Angelina walking into the great hall. Your hair is a little crazy, obviously quickly been thrown in a bun and you clearly are sporting a killer hangover but he still thinks you look divine.

“Surprised to see you up so early Y/N, you were very intoxicated last night” Lee laughs as you and Angelina sit down.

You groan, rubbing your eyes “I’m surprised too, I feel like a zombie and my ankle hurts.”

Fred laughs loudly after sending a wink Angelina’s way, “that’s probably from when you jumped off the table after your little dance performance. You went tumbling down. It was hilarious” George whacks his twin over the head, eyeing you slightly as you put some toast on your plate.

“Merlin, I don’t remember that or anything from last night to be honest. It’s all so fuzzy” you mumble as you take a large bite of your toast.

George feels his heart drop a little, although last night you hadn’t realised it was actually him you were talking to, he thought it would be easier to confess his feelings if you actually remember last night, now he was too scared.

~~~

Later that day you and Angelina are back in your dorm room laying on your bed with Alicia talking about previous night.

“What even happened last night? The last thing I remember is dancing and that’s it” you laugh as you flick through a magazine.

“So you don’t remember chatting to George on the couch before passing out? You can thank me for that Y/N, I had the brilliant idea of having George look after you while I went to fetch you some water” Alicia grins.

Alicia and Angelina were the only ones who knew of your major crush on the tall sweet redhead. Many times, they have tried to convince you to just tell George how you feel and even try to meddle themselves.

You furrow your eyebrows, trying to remember if you said anything embarrassing to the boy.

“Huh, are you sure it was George? I swear I was chatting to Fred last night” you chuckle remembering some of your conversation.

Alicia shook her head, “nope it was definitely George, I know that for a fact because when I left to get your water, I passed Fred and Angelina making out” Alicia elbows Angelina’s side who is blushing profusely.

You shrug your shoulders, “well me and George then were having a pretty weird conversation about chocolate actually. I thought it would heal my sore ankle” the girls all giggle as you continue, “it was very random we were talking about chocolate and then…” your voice fades into silence as you remember how that conversation went.

Alicia and Angelina are confused as you leap of the bed and start running out the door, “wait what happened?” you hear Angelina yell as you run out of the room.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, you need to find George. You are beyond embarrassed that you basically confessed your love to George, the whole conversation becoming clearer and clearer in your brain. But you are unsure if you had dreamt the reply Fred, no George had given you as you drifted off to sleep on that couch.

You enter the common room, scanning for a particular redhead who you find sitting on the couch with Fred and Lee. You run up to the group, out of breath.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” you blurt out, feeling very, very nervous.

George break eye contact from whatever he was originally looking at and meets your eyes which are desperately searching for a response “what?” he squeaks out.

Fred and Lee share a look at each other and move from the couch, figuring out that the pair need some privacy although they do continue listening to the conversation from the other end of the common room.

“Last night. On the couch. I told you that I liked you, well, I said I liked George because I thought I was talking to Fred. And then you said ‘I’m sure he likes you too’ so do you? Like me?” you feel like your heart is going to explode and you are well aware of the multiple pairs of eyes staring at yours and Georges exchange which is making you extra scared of the potential rejection.

George nods, not really confident enough to speak right now. What you do next surprises him. If he wasn’t already sitting down, he might have fallen over with the force of you leaping towards him. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his. George immediately grips your waist and kisses you back. You can hear some people cheering in the background which makes you smile into the kiss.

You pull away slightly breathless, “that’s good then,” George chuckles and you hear Fred from somewhere behind you say rather loudly to Lee.

“Imagine if she kissed the wrong twin.”

“Shut up Fred” You and George say simultaneously.  

[alinastracker]

If you’re still doing the prompts I have oneeeee hehe

" i mean... i-i'm cool with sharing the bed if you are. "

you got it baby 🥰

but i know something’s starting right now

It’s a sweltering Ravkan summer day, but nothing brings heat to her body like watching Mal in the pool, water droplets racing down his chest. His shaggy hair is a mop on his head, and she realizes this is what he must look like in the shower.

This is exactly why she didn’t want to bring him on the trip.

It’s the first week of July, and for the past three years, that’s meant a trip to the Os Alta Resort with Genya and Zoya. It’s a way for them to relax after exams and catch up now that they all attend different schools. But at the end of May, the two of them had FaceTimed her about a change for this year.  

“We were thinking of taking the boys with,” Genya says gently, nervous for her reaction.

Zoya is frank as ever. “It’s cheaper that way. Besides, after all this long distance, I could use a week of uninterrupted fuc—”

“Zoya!”

“Relax, Starkov. We’re all adults here.”

“Anyway,” Genya cuts in. “We’re just telling you in case you wanted to bring someone, too. Maybe Mal?”

“Mal and I aren’t dating.”

Only in her dreams.

“Might as well be,” Zoya mutters.

So in the choice between bringing Mal on what has basically turned into a couple’s retreat and going to said couple’s retreat alone, she’s chosen the former. It would be fine. Mal knows her friends. Him and Nikolai like to talk sports. Maybe it’ll be a little weird, being the only non-couple, but they could deal.

It would have been fine, if it weren’t for this morning’s check in.

"So it looks like we have you booked for three single rooms," the concierge says.

Alina frowns. "One of those should be a double."

The concierge checks again, each click of his mouse making her anxiety rise. He frowns. "Sorry, miss. It's showing me all singles."

"It's fine," Mal says. "Could we just upgrade it to a double, then?"

"Er, I'm afraid we're all booked, sir."

Nikolai claps his hands together, cheerful as ever at Zoya's side. "Well, I'll just switch with Alina, and Mal and I can — shit, Zoy!"

Zoya had stomped on his foot.

"We are not switching shit," she hisses under her breath.

Nikolai sighs. "My deadly dearest, certainly it's no big deal—"

"I bought us a new toy for this trip. We are not switching."

There is a brief moment where everyone freezes, then Genya groans, shaking her head as she murmurs apologies to the concierge, who is trying hard to pretend he hasn’t heard a thing. The tips of Mal's ears go red, and Alina is sure hers match. David, lost in his audiobook, is oblivious to all of it.

Nikolai clears his throat and turns to the two of them with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, mate. You're on your own."

The concierge slowly raises a finger and says, "We might be able to supply a cot?"

Alina can feel everyone's eyes on her, which is the last thing she ever wants. She has the strong desire to curl in on herself, but that only really works in the winter when she dons large coats and sweaters. But it’s summer, and she is in only a mustard yellow crop top and jean shorts, though she suddenly feels as exposed as if she were completely naked.

Mal takes one look at her and gently nudges his foot against hers. "I mean . . . I'm cool with sharing the bed if you are?"

Her brain is looking for anyway out of this whole conversation, so she nods.

So far, they have been in their room once to drop off their things and change into bathing suits, both of them dancing around the bed without ever touching it. The air in the room feels charged even with sunlight still pouring in. What would tonight be like?

More importantly, how was she supposed to handle sleeping beside him when she can’t even handle watching him in the pool?

Genya climbs on Mal’s shoulders for a game of chicken — David is, unsurprisingly, not in the pool, but sitting beside Alina on a lounge chair. She feels a pang of something like jealousy as she watches the game commence, which cannot be more ridiculous.

They can’t avoid the night forever, and it comes much too quickly despite how long they spend mingling at the resort bar. In their room, Mal lets Alina use the bathroom first. A kind offer, she thinks, until she realizes it leaves her to stake out a spot on the bed first. No more dancing.

Left side or right? Does Mal have a preference? Does she? How long until Mal finishes in the bathroom and comes out to see her staring at the bed like a mental person?

Right side, she chooses finally. She curls up on the left side of her body usually, so this way, she doesn’t have to face him as they sleep. Good call. As she untucks the covers from the bed, she secretly hopes to find something horrifying, like blood or bugs, so they can get a refund and leave. Sadly, it is a perfectly fine bed. Alina plops onto it and tucks herself in.

Mal finishes in the bathroom a few minutes later, and if he’s as rattled about their sleeping arrangement as she is, he does not show it. There’s plenty of space between them as he settles into bed. Maybe this won’t be as bad as she feared.

“Well, goodnight,” Mal says through a yawn.

“Goodnight,” Alina replies.

They each turn off their bedside lamps. Mal is softly snoring soon after, but Alina stays awake much too long for her liking, thinking of how close he is.

They fall into a similar routine for the next couple nights. During the day, all is fine. Their little group meshes well. Genya and Nikolai are often off together, both of them on a mission, it seems, to try every flavor of ice cream from Os Alta's ice cream bar. Or sometimes it’s Nikolai and Mal running off, joining a game of pool volleyball, both of them stupidly competitive. When Zoya gets annoyed with the overload of children at the waterpark, she joins David on one of the lounge chairs to read for a while — Zoya a smutty historical romance and David a nonfiction on modern space travel. We just shouldn't let Jeff Bezos come back, he argues to Genya later, while Zoya murmurs to Nikolai something she wants him to do to her that night.

Alina thanks the saints her room isn’t next to Zoya’s.

The trip is going so smoothly that she doesn’t realize what trouble Sunday brings with it. It’s always their favorite part of the trip: bottomless margarita night. They all have absolutely horrific, hilarious pictures and videos of themselves from the past three years thanks to bottomless margarita night at Os Alta. But the thought of being drunk like that while she’s sharing a bed with Mal?

Okay, so she just won’t drink tonight. Problem solved.

“You can’t not drink!” Zoya says, personally offended.

“Come on, it’s tradition!” Genya agrees.

But she’s determined to hold out. Only when she sees the others with their drinks, she decides one sip won’t hurt. One sip becomes one drink, and one drink becomes a couple. Soon enough, she’s drunk enough to sign herself up for karaoke, another Os Alta tradition.

“I dunno what I should siiiing,” she slurs, swaying lightly on her feet.

“I have the perfect song for you!” Genya cheers excitedly.

So that’s how she ends up on stage, drunk off her ass, horridly singing Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. She really gets into it, jumping and nailing the talking parts a little too well. But she can hear Genya and Zoya screaming the lyrics along with her, and it only encourages her.

Genya records a Snapchat of her performance, snickering to Mal and David about how she’s going to accidentally send it to the asshole Alina dated last year who’s still entirely too obsessed with her.

Nikolai is the only one of the boys drunk enough to sign up, taking the stage after Alina to perform a disgustingly off-key version of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. They all agree that Freddie Mercury is rolling in his grave.

By the end of the night, the four of them are totally wasted. David, who had spent the night nursing one drink, his focus on getting Genya her drinks and ensuring that she didn’t trip over herself, has to help the aforementioned redhead up to their room. Nikolai and Zoya are a sight, both wickedly drunk, trying to help each other stay upright. Mal had only downed a couple drinks and is mostly sober, which Alina is very thankful for, as she can’t hold herself up to save her life. She nearly trips on absolutely nothing so many times that Mal finally scoops her into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way to the room. Alina giggles the whole way. 

There’s no getting ready for bed that night. Mal sets her on the bed, and she resigns to sleeping in her red summer dress. When Mal joins her after having a shower, drunk Alina has no qualms curling up against him and sniffing him.

“Mm, you smell good,” she hums.

Mal chuckles even as he tenses. Alina has her arm around him and her face pressed into his side. He’s not sure he can breathe. She’s too drunk to notice the blush on his face.

“That’s probably just because you smell like alcohol,” he hedges.

Alina giggles and shakes her head. “No, you always smell good.”

He doesn’t know what to do with this information, but he does a lot of thinking instead of sleeping as Alina passes out next to him.

Monday morning brings with it a pounding headache for Alina. She prepares for the bright sunlight streaming through the window, but the room is dark when she opens her eyes. Mal isn’t beside her, but he left aspirin and a glass of water on the nightstand in addition to pulling out the blackout curtains. She falls in love with him a little bit more. 

The day is a quiet one. The girls and Nikolai spend their time at the spa, Mal and David off doing saints know what. She gets the best massage of her life, and while her head still aches despite the pain pill, seeing Nikolai get his toenails painted bright red makes every sip she had last night worth it.

When they’re in the room again after dinner, tucking themselves into bed, Mal says, “You told me I smell good last night.”

Alina pauses. “I did?”

The night comes back to her. She totally told him he smelled good, and she had closed the space between them on the bed, curling up right next to him. She remembers all of it, suddenly and painfully.

“Oh, saints. Mal, I’m so sorry. I didn’t . . . I shouldn’t have—”

He cuts her off. “It’s okay, ‘Lina. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I don’t?”

Mal smiles an amused smile and leans over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “No, you don’t. Not you. Never you.”

Alina is almost positive she can hear her heart pounding as Mal reaches for something tucked in the drawer of his nightstand.

“For you,” he says, handing her a long rectangular box. “Saw it today when I was out with David and I just— I thought of you.”

She can’t even process the image of Mal and David out shopping together, needing to open this damn box. With shaky fingers, she lifts the lid. Waiting for her inside is a dainty necklace with a gorgeous gold sun charm.

“Oh,” she says softly.

Mal blushes, and this time, Alina notices. “Do you like it?” he asks. “I just thought of you singing last night when I saw it. You’re so bright, Alina. All the time. Just like the sun.”

She has no idea what this confession means, or how she earned it from drunkenly telling him how good he smells — which his really quite good — but her heart has kicked into overdrive. She isn’t sure what, or how, but she knows something’s starting right now.

“I love it, Mal.” She turns so her back is facing him and hands over the necklace. “Will you help me put it on?”

He wraps the chain around her neck. The sun rests perfectly against her heart. She notices every little brush of his fingers against the back of her neck as Mal works the clasp.

When the necklace is secure, they both lay back down, noticeably closer this time. Not as close as last night, but close enough that their arms occasionally brush, close enough that she’ll end up kicking him during the night. Alina sleeps on her right side. 

Their trip might be ending tomorrow, but something better was beginning tonight.

[helnjk]

She Used To Be Mine - R.W.

Ron Weasley x fem!reader

based on the song She Used To Be Mine from the musical Waitress & part of my showtunes fic list ! i’m sorry in advance for the ouchie

Word Count: 3k

Summary: when ron leaves to go on the run, she’s left a shell of the person she used to be. 

Warnings: there’s major angst (but maybe a happy ending? you’ll have to find out), injury, & mentions of the war/final battle 

lyrics are bolded & italicized

flashbacks are italicized

–

She is hard on herself

She is broken and won't ask for help

The field was quiet. It was as if time was frozen in their little bubble, not a breeze in the air nor a rustle in the leaves. Y/N hated it. The silence allowed her thoughts to wander in the direction she couldn’t bear to think about. 

–

The Burrow was alight with music and happy conversations. Bill and Fleur’s wedding was in full swing and the crowd had made the most of this opportunity to celebrate life and love, even in the midst of a war. 

Y/N could tell something was wrong with Ron. He hadn’t uttered a single word to her the entire night, only tightly gripping onto her hand. 

They were sat at one of the tables, empty save for them. The rest of their friends were mingling with the distant Weasley relatives, grabbing a drink, or dancing on the floor. The silence was unbearable for her, something in her mind nagging at her to say something, anything. 

To her surprise, Ron was the first to speak. 

“I need to talk to you,” He said. 

Y/N took a deep breath before turning to face him, “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, brilliant.” His reply was too quick, too immediate, and he realized his mistake right away, “I-erm. No actually, no it’s not.”

The pounding in her ears stopped her from hearing much else. The lively music and the chatter of the crowd faded around her, time had stopped. Her eyes blurred in and out of focus and her pulse beat almost unbearably in her neck. Through the fog, she could make out a few words here and there. 

“We can’t be together anymore.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s for the best.” 

This had come out of nowhere, everything had been fine leading up to that moment. Where had it all gone wrong? In the span of seconds, her entire world seemed to be crumbling in front of her. 

“I don’t understand,” She managed to choke out, her eyes searching for any sort of answer on his face, “Was it something that I did? Is there anything I can do?” 

Her voice grew more and more desperate, her body was flushed with heat. She could tell that Ron was uncomfortable, he was fidgeting in his seat and his eyes kept glancing towards the nearest exit, but she thought she deserved an answer. 

“Look, Y/N,” Ron began, “With everything going on right now–”

“Oh don’t give me that excuse,” Y/N snapped and immediately shut her mouth. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, but she refused to believe what he was saying. 

“It’s not an excuse!” He was agitated as well now, no longer antsy in his seat but face flushed with frustration, “I’ve got a job to do and I don’t want to–”

Whatever he was trying to say was drowned out by the arrival of Kingsley’s patronus. In between hearing his message and the chaos that ensued afterwards, Y/N had lost sight of Ron.

When the last of the Death Eaters had disapparated away and all that was left was silence, the searing pain of heartbreak overcame her and she was left an empty shell of herself. 

–

A soft grip on Y/N’s shoulder brought her out of her thoughts. 

“You alright?” Tonks asked, sending a concerned glance her way. 

Y/N shook her head in an attempt to clear it from any unwanted thoughts and sent a soft smile in the direction of her friend, “Yeah. I’m fine.” 

She could tell Tonks wanted to say something more but had decided against it, and she was thankful. She wasn’t in a mood to talk. Well, she hadn’t been in that kind of mood in a long time, and she could tell that other Order members were getting concerned. 

Most days she sat alone in her tiny flat, staring out the window. The hours would pass her by too slowly and she itched for something to take her mind off things. Most nights she spent pacing a hole into her floor because she couldn’t sleep. 

Not when all she thought about was how inadequate she had been for Ron to have left her like that. Like she didn’t matter to him at all. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, for Y/N, the telltale crack of apparition sounded at the house they were in charge of staking-out. The pair of them sent glances at each other before grabbing their wands and breaking into a sprint in the direction of the sound. 

The moment the two of them crossed into the threshold, it was a flurry of spells and curses hurled in different directions. She could barely make out who was sending out what colorful jet of light in her direction, her mind had simply gone on autopilot. 

Y/N knew how intense this mission could get, but she had willingly (and almost forcefully) asserted that she would be the one to accompany Tonks. Anything to get out of her house and not have to think for just a moment. 

The next thing she knew, she was fading in and out of consciousness. She could vaguely make out a pair of strong arms carrying her and hear shouts of concern that sounded as if she was underwater. 

–

Molly Weasley nearly brought her whole house down with how loudly she had screamed when she saw Bill carrying an unconscious Y/N through the wards of her home, Tonks right at their side. 

“What happened?” She demanded, rushed towards them. 

No one said anything as the three of them struggled to bring her inside and onto the soft surface of the couch. When they were satisfied with the arrangement, Molly repeated her question. 

Tonks was the first to reply, “They were too many at the raid, it was overwhelming. I barely made it out with her, and I had to call Bill for back up.”

“We couldn’t bring her to Mungo’s, it was too risky. Who knows how many people You-Know-Who has on the inside.” Bill continued, and the Weasley matriarch nodded her head. 

The three of them collectively let out a breath, but they knew that they weren’t out of the woods just yet. 

If I'm honest I know I would give it all back 

For a chance to start over

And rewrite an ending or two

Ron knew he had made a mistake. Well, more than just one. 

First, he buggered the last conversation he had with Y/N and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again. Or if she would even look him in the eye if he did. He didn’t want to end things that way, but he felt like he had no choice. Keeping her close to him was effectively putting her in the line of fire, and he couldn’t bear to do that to her. Not when she meant so much to him. 

Then, he let that stupid locket mess with his head and his insecurities, and now he had no idea how to find his way back to Harry and Hermione. 

With a defeated sigh, he took a step forward and twisted to the right. The familiar sensation of apparition enveloped him and soon he found himself just outside the wards of the Burrow. 

“Ron?” Molly gasped, looking out the window to see her youngest son slowly trudging towards her. 

Then, her eyes subconsciously darted towards the stairs, as she knew that Y/N was just a few floors above, lying on Bill’s old bed. This was going to be interesting. 

“Oh Merlin what has that boy gotten himself into,” She muttered and moved towards the door. 

Before Ron could even raise his hand to grip the doorknob, it swung open to reveal Molly. His eyes searched hers tentatively for any sort of signs of anger or ill-will. He found none and his body sagged in relief. 

“Mum,” He choked out and immediately he was engulfed in one of her signature hugs. In that moment, everything seemed to crash down on him and he was wracked with sobs. 

He felt like a little boy again, clinging onto his mother for comfort, and she let him. She rubbed his back gently and kept her other arm wrapped tightly around him. 

When he had somewhat calmed down, he found himself on the couch with a warm mug of tea pressed into his hands. 

“Want to tell me what’s happened?” Molly asked, taking a seat next to her son, “Where are Harry and Hermione?” 

Through a few more tears and more cups of tea than necessary, Ron regaled what had happened to them on the run. Molly’s heart broke for her son and for the mistakes that he had made, but she knew that his intentions were in the right place. She could also tell that guilt was plaguing him for a completely different reason as well.

And so, after reassuring him that he would be able to find his way back to his two best friends, she decided to share the news of their house’s latest guest with him. 

“I have something to tell you as well, dear,” she began, “It has to do with Y/N.” 

The moment she finished retelling what had happened to her, Ron was out of his seat and was nearly sprinting up the stairs. The door to Bill’s old room creaked as he pushed it open, but it didn’t do much to stir any sort of reaction from the person inside. 

Ron’s eyes scanned over Y/N’s tiny figure, curled up at the corner of the bed. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he approached, his mind still not having processed what his mum had told him. The person he knew her to be–strong willed, witty, and confident–did not align with what he saw in front of him. 

And he vowed that he would do whatever it took to get her to be that person once again. To right his wrongs and rewrite how their story ended. 

–

The sun had just started to rise above the horizon and the other residents of the Burrow were not yet awake. Y/N stumbled midstep as she attempted to make her way into the bathroom. She thought that she was perfectly capable of bringing herself to wash and get ready for the day in the shared bathroom, but she was proven wrong. 

A small gasp escaped her lips as she felt her body falling. She was still recovering from whatever curse had been shot at her, therefore she wasn’t in full control of all her limbs yet. But she was stubborn, and she overexerted herself everyday. 

Before she could hit the ground and cause even more damage to herself, a pair of strong arms caught her. 

Ron’s bright blue eyes locked with hers and she felt her heart stutter. 

It had been almost a week since his unannounced arrival, and she hadn’t spoken a word to him. She could barely even look him in the eyes without wanting to burst into tears. 

Quickly, she gathered as much strength as she could muster and she stood, albeit shakily. No words were exchanged between the two of them, but Ron didn’t let go of her until she was safely in the bathroom. 

When the door closed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was all too confusing, being so near him after all of this time. She didn’t know if she had it in her to actually have a conversation with him, not without bringing up feelings she worked so hard to repress. 

Still, when she finished washing up and opened the door to the bathroom, she was not as surprised to find Ron still standing there. 

“C’mon, I’ll help you to your room,” he spoke, holding out his arm. When she hesitated, he let at an almost inaudible sigh, “We don’t have to talk. I just want to make sure that you don’t have another incident like earlier.” 

Y/N closed her eyes for a brief moment, weighing her options. Ultimately, she knew that risking another fall was not something she wanted to do, so she gently took his arm. True to his word, Ron didn’t bother trying to speak with her, but on the inside, his heart was stuttering at being in such close proximity with her. 

And so began his habit of being her caretaker. 

Over the next few days, it was rare to see Y/N without Ron by her side. He was the support that she needed, both physically and emotionally, though she never spoke to him directly. Her communication came in gentle touches, squeezes of the arm when pain would shoot up her spine or hitches of the breath whenever the redressing of her wounds would sting a little too much. 

He made up for the silence on her end, whispering words of encouragement and comfort. 

“I’ve got you.” 

“You’re doing so great, love.” 

“Let me help you.” 

Little by little Y/N’s resolve began to crumble. 

One night, as he dropped her off at her room for bed, she caved. 

“Ron,” she said, watching his retreating figure. His whole body tensed before he slowly turned around. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked, eyebrows knitted in concern, “Are you hurting? What do you need me to do?”

Her heart cracked at the sight of the man in front of her, so selfless in his love and care for her, even if she had been so cold and distant in return, “I–I wanted to talk.” 

The simple sentence seemed to have broken whatever wall that stood between the two of them. 

Ron swallowed, “Right, right. Of course.”

“You can come inside, you know.” She cracked a smile in his direction. 

The moment he took a seat on one of the chairs in the room, Y/N had no clue what to say. It was as if everything that had plagued her mind for the past week had disappeared.

Before she could open her mouth, he spoke, “I wanted to apologize.”

“What?” 

He nervously fidgeted in his seat, “For–Well, for how things had ended between the two of us.” Another pause. “I didn’t say what I meant to say and everything kind of just ended so quickly, and you didn’t–you don’t–deserve that.” 

“Right.” Y/N nodded her head, her mind going on overdrive. 

“And,” he swallowed again, nervously, “When I heard about how you got hurt, I–I couldn’t imagine what it would be like not having you in my life. Being on the run, I would stay up all night hoping not to hear your name on the radio, and when I got home, it was like my worst nightmares were coming true.

“What are you trying to say, Ron?” She asked, meeting his eyes for the first time since he sat down, “I don’t understand.” 

“What I’m trying to say is that I love you, Y/N. And I want to fight for us, for our future together.” 

To fight just a little 

To bring back the fire in her eyes

Y/N was stood by the door frame, observing Ron as he packed and repacked his bag. Too much time had passed since he was last with Harry and Hermione, she knew that. It was time for him to try and find them, to go back on the run and make sure that they found whatever it was that they were looking for. 

Still, her heart ached at the thought of him leaving again. 

“Honestly, Ron, you’ve packed that bag enough times. You have what you need,” She teased, finally willing herself to enter the room. 

His head snapped up, not knowing that she had been standing there, “Just nervous. I don’t wanna forget something and not be able to come back.” 

She only hummed in response, wrapping her arms around his torso, savoring the feeling of his body pressed against hers. 

“I’m going to miss you.” She mumbled against the fabric of his shirt. 

Ron sighed and tightened his hold on her, “I’m going to miss you too.”

She leant back, making sure to look him in the eyes, “You better come back to me. Merlin knows I’d figure out a way to murder you in the afterlife if you don’t.”

The pair of them stared at each other for a second before bursting into laughter. He shook his head in disbelief at her statement, “Of course you would. And I promise I’ll come back to you, I just have a job to do.” 

Neither of them moved from their position. They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for as long as they could, slightly swaying from side to side. It wasn’t said, but both knew that Ron would have to make his leave sooner or later. 

When the time finally came, he let out a breath and pulled away slightly. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispered. 

“I love you too.” 

Then, his lips pressed against hers softly and her eyes closed. This wasn’t just a kiss to them, it was a promise. A promise to fight for each other, to fight for their futures. A promise that they would see each other again and that they would live the lives they planned out together. 

–

It was chaos. 

The amount of relief and celebration that those who found themselves in the Great Hall after the Dark Lord’s fall felt was euphoric. People gathered together in groups, tears in their eyes, hugging and laughing and letting out sighs of relief. 

Y/N’s eyes nervously scanned the room for the familiar blue eyes she was desperate to find. She sat with the rest of the Weasleys, near the cot where Fred had laid, but he soon joined them in their vigil waiting for the last of their brood to arrive. 

“Y/N!” A voice yelled from across the room. 

She spun around to see Ron nearly sprinting towards her. A relieved laugh escaped her lips just as he reached her, tackling her into the biggest hug she had ever received. Unable to stop them, tears escaped her eyes as she gripped onto him, unbelievably grateful that she had this wonderful man in her arms again.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She whispered as they released their grips on each other ever so slightly. 

“Me too.” 

And then his lips were on hers and they shared a passionate kiss. 

–

general taglist: @expectoevans​ @george-fabian-weasley​ @gxthsanrio​ @slytherinscribbles​ @harpyloon​

message to be added or removed!! 

[cordeliasdarling]

dancing with your ghost

PRE WARNING FROM THE FUTURE: I WROTE THIS WHEN I WAS A BABY SORRY IT’S AWFUL BYE

just a sad thing i wrote in sad times lmao. ignore the fact it’s bad, i was just vibing to the song ‘dancing with your ghost’ by sasha sloan and got inspired for this, there are lyrics included written in bold italics.

anyway, byee.

**

word count: 1,634

warnings: some sad stuffs, brief mentions of alcohol and drugs.

**

A piece of paper. That was all. When Sally woke up that morning, instead of seeing your peaceful resting face, there it lay instead.

She knew, before she even had the courage to move a muscle. Maybe it was because of your absence. Maybe it was the heavy silence of the room that would usually have been broken by your light breathing.

Sally's heart sank, further than she even thought possible. Many things had pushed her to rock bottom, but this.. this was the worst.

Eventually, after ten minutes of staring at the letter, a shaky hand reached out, and it was then that she realised it wasn't a letter. Just two damn words written in your neat cursive writing.

I'm sorry.

Her expression didn't fall, it didn't even twitch. She simply froze, feeling time stand still. The words rang through her mind.

I'm sorry.

Even though time stood still, hours passed by. Not even time could comfort the woman. And not once was there a sound, not a movement. If the world didn't freeze, she would.

The sun rose, and it began to set, only then was Sally sucked back to reality. She couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. Maybe she could have just stayed in that trance between life and dreams forever.

Very slowly, her legs slid out from under the covers that once hugged her with warmth. Cold air hit her pale skin immediately, but strangely she didn't shiver. Without a word, Sally's bare feet led her out of room sixty four, having a mind of it's own. She barely registered the direction she was going, or the fact that she was taking the stairs instead of the elevator. There were too many memories in that box. The time you admitted your fear of lifts. Your first kiss. The many passionate build ups before you'd both crash into her room and share the most amazing nights together.

Sally's frizzled hair tousled as the Los Angles breeze engulfed her. She'd found her way up the bleak roof of the Hotel Cortez. Why? Who knew. The dark chocolate eyes scanned the view without much effort into it.

She felt something wet on her cheek, and as her fingers brushed it curiously, she realised it was tears. Had she been crying the whole time? Sally had become so used to crying throughout time that she barely noticed anymore. You'd managed to cease the tears. Well, at least made it rarity for the trapped soul to shed salty tears.

But no one was there to hold her. You weren't there to make a smile plaster across her delicate features. It was just Sally, alone, once again. How foolish she must have been to believe that you could have stayed. Even after the many months the two of you had been together. Of course you'd leave. Why would you be the exception.

Her lips parted, filling her lungs with oxygen before she let out a yell. It wasn't much of a yell as her voice was unmistakably shaky. Instead it resembled a pained cry. 

"Yelling at the sky, screaming at the world. Baby, why'd you go away? I'm still your girl."

She was your girl, right? That's what you'd always said. Sally was the one for you, that was your claim. Though now that wasn't true. It can't have been true, or else you'd be there right now, wrapping your arms around her waist, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

Sally stared up at the sky.

"Holding on too tight, head up in the clouds. Heaven only knows, where you are now."

**

Four weeks later, Sally had barely left room. The rare occasion was to go the bar to carry as many bottles of alcohol possible, then drink and cry herself to sleep. Empty glass bottles lay scattered around the room, along with old syringes. She'd slipped back to the old habits she'd managed to hold back. Of course it was you who had showed her that she didn't need drugs and alcohol to help to fill the void. Now that advice was worthless.

There was a knock at the door. At first Sally simply ignored it. If she didn't make a sound maybe they'd leave her alone.

"Sally, I'm coming in."

The door opened, revealing Liz, followed by a disheartened sigh. Sally glanced at the woman before mumbling quietly.

"Go away."

But Liz didn't, of course. Instead she took residence on the edge of the bed, looking down at the younger lady with sad eyes.

"And I don't need your fucking pity." Her voice a bit louder now, closing her eyes in the hopes that she would disappear for a while.

"You've got to leave your room at some point, Sal, seriously-" Liz was cut across sharply.

"Don't call me that." Sally's voice tried to sound stern, but her bottom lip quivered, because that nickname was the one you would use. Liz sighed, focussing her eyes on the absolute mess the hotel room was in.

"Please, just at least sit in the bar for a bit."

"What's the point? I'm perfectly fine here." Sally claimed, rolling her eyes internally.

"Sally, darling, please. I hate seeing you like this. Even Iris is worried about you."

"No she's not. That old bitch doesn't give a damn about me. The feeling's mutual." But that was a lie. In the months before you left, she'd actually gotten closer to Iris. Your doing, obviously.

"I won't give you anymore alcohol until you spend at least an hour out. It's for your own good. You're never going to get over (Y/N) if you continue like this."

Rage rushed through the blonde's body, springing to her feet with new found adrenaline.

"Don't you dare say her name! She's gone! She left me! Without a fucking goodbye! And I am not going to get over it! She was my everything! S-she'll always be my e-everything." She broke started to cry, sinking to the floor as she let everything out, all that had been pent up inside. Liz hesitated before sitting down on the crimson carpet, pulling Sally into a hug. It wasn't the same as your hugs, you could always make her feel safe and loved. But maybe this could do, for now.

**

That evening, Sally found herself stumbling to the bar, heaving her tired body up onto a stool. It was safe to say that her makeup was beyond repair, but she couldn't have cared less.

"Drink. Now, please." She mumbled to the woman who'd comforted her a few hours ago. Liz smiled slightly to herself, it was a start. Not many words were exchanged between the two of them, and that was okay.

Just as Sally downed her second glass of whiskey, her eye was caught by a brunette who'd sat down in a booth at the corner of the bar. Before she met you, Sally would have had that woman in her bed within half an hour. There wasn't an urge to do that, even though you weren't with Sally anymore.

Though something made her move over to the booth.

Though something made her bring the stranger to bed.

And something made her hesitate as she began to undress the woman in her bed.

"Are you okay?" The stranger, Nadia, asked when she felt Sally stop.

She didn't reply. Her eyes simply welled up, though strangely no tears fell. She studied the woman bellow her, involentarily comparing Nadia to you. You looked nothing alike, no one could ever be as beautiful as you were.

"Go. Please." Sally whispered, moving away. Nadia frowned in confusion, about to reply, but Sally shot her a certain look that made the woman leave.

Once she was alone, Sally curled up in the armchair, lighting a cigarette, muscle memory fuelling her actions. How silly she was for thinking sleeping with stranger would help the sadness. No one would ever cure her sadness like you did.

"How do I love, how do I love again? How do I trust, how do I trust again?"

Love and trust again? She simply wouldn't.

As the room fell dark from the night sky, Sally got back up, stubbing out the cigarette, watching the wisps of smoke curl into the air before turning on the bedside lamp and closing the old crimson curtains.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the record player, the one you'd gone out to buy about a month ago for Sally. She remembered how happy that day was. So she placed your favourite record album in, in the hopes that for a moment, she could go back to that memory and relive your company.

"I stay up all night, tell myself I'm alright, baby, you're just harder to see than most. I put the record on, wait 'til I hear our song, every night I'm dancing with your ghost."

It was funny really, how Sally was a lost soul bound to the building, some may call her a ghost. But now, in her eyes, you were the ghost. Who'd left, with nothing but a memory.

"Every night I'm dancing with your ghost."

Sally froze.

She knew that voice. That sweet tone.

Slowly, very slowly, her head raised, her line of vision moving from the floor to the door.

"(Y/N)?" She croaked, not believing her eyes. Why should you be here?

"I was scared, about staying in this place.. but I need you. I'll spend an eternity here as long as I'm with you."- Was all you could say before rushing forward and pulling her into your chest. You inhaled her musky scent, cigarette's mixed with the perfume you'd gifted her.

"W-why.." She cried quietly, clutching onto your shirt. She should be shouting, screaming at you, she had every right. But the phase of anger had long passed in the weeks of heartbreak.

"I'm sorry."

****

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Baby Bird

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Request: i kinda had this idea for a warren x reader and if you were intrested or had time i’d be very appreciative 👉👈. (warren has his apocalypse wings) so the reader is a new student she’s very like shy and timid but very sweet and her only friend is jean, she just like refuses to converse with others. and her gift is her wings and they’re exactly like warren’s except black (kinda like he was the bad boy with white angel wings and she’s the good girl with black wings,sorry i love opposites 😂) and be just hates her because it’s a reminder of his old wings and mistakes. fast forward to like a day at school or party someone is messing with r because she never shows off her wings and then like push her or something and jean freaks out and tells warren r doesn’t know how to use her wings (super sad childhood with very anti-mutant parents) so then warren saves her and they talk more and get closer.

A/N: this is so late! I am so sorry! But I am finally getting around to all my requests and this wasn’t in my ask box so it got kind of lost and I forgot about it for a hot minute! I hope you enjoy it though! 🥺💛

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: underage drinking, teasing, anxiety, and mentions of poor home life

“Your grades are phenomenal, yet your class participation is lacking.” (Y/N) picked at her nails, looking down. Xavier called her into his office to “discuss her grades” but she knew that was the last thing on his mind. “I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with, but at some point, everyone has to socialize.”

Her head shot up, “I do! I do socialize.” 

Sure, she ate lunch alone under the trees, would rather be alone than have a partner for class projects, and she didn’t have many friends— but she was new! Being the new kid was hard. Not to mention her parents were more than thrilled to get rid of her and her wings. 

Her big, black, feathery wings, that she didn’t even know how to use! She hid them under baggy sweaters, no matter the weather. 

Xavier gave her a look, “You don’t have any friends and you hide your beautiful wings.”

“Dr. McCoy and Mystique hide their true selves… and if Kurt had the chance he’d want to look normal too.” Charles sighed. “Look, um, Professor, I do— I do have friends.” 

“Who?” 

“Jean Grey.” 

Saying Jean was her friend wasn’t a lie— however, Jean was her only friend. (Y/N) didn’t like to talk, and Jean read minds— easy friendship right there. 

Jean had other friends and even a boyfriend. (Y/N) felt like she weighed her down or was charity work, but Jean always said otherwise. 

Sometimes (Y/N) would sit with Jean and her friends. They were all kind and welcoming, despite her not saying anything. The only one who seemed standoff-ish was Warren. 

 Warren was tall and extremely handsome. Jean had teased (Y/N) for losing her train of thought more than once for looking at Warren and thinking he was pretty. 

He had these huge metal wings and tattoos on his face. (Y/N) thought they could possibly be friends, mostly because they both had wings, but that didn’t go so well…

—

The one day (Y/N) wore a t-shirt, with holes in the back so she could flaunt her wings, everyone looked at her. She didn’t like the attention, but she couldn’t blame them for staring. 

Jean’s friends showered her with a mixture of surprise and compliments with her wings. 

“Can I touch them?” Peter asked. (Y/N) nodded, making eye contact with Warren for a moment. 

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. (Y/N) quickly looked away and frowned. Everyone liked her except for Warren. 

Was he the honest one of the group though? What if all of Jean’s friends actually hated (Y/N)? What if they just put up with her because Jean made them? She was sure Scott didn’t like her much either, even if he never showed it. He was dating Jean and her friendship with (Y/N) probably cut into their time… Oh, God… They just think my wings are neat and soon as I stop showing them they’ll get bored of me… 

Warren was glaring at something, and then he got up as left. Just like that!

“Is he okay?” (Y/N) asked Jean.

“He’s just being dumb. You know how boys are.” (Y/N) nodded, but she was pretty sure Warren wasn’t just “being dumb”. He probably hated her. 

—

It was finally the weekend, and (Y/N) was hunched over her books on a Friday night. Normal for her, as Jean and her friends usually went out somewhere. 

A knock at her door interrupted her work time, and she opened it to find Jean and Jubilee standing in the doorway. Jubilee was bouncing and had a bag in her arms. 

(Y/N) let them in. Jubilee set the bag on the floor and started going through it— it was full of makeup and hair stuff. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re going to a party tonight, and you’re coming with us.”

(Y/N) glanced over to her work pile, “But I’ve got a paper due—” 

“Two weeks from now. I have the same class.” Jubilee answered. 

“Jean…” She whined. 

“One night out won’t kill you. Neither will a little makeup and a cute outfit.”

“What?” 

“Here, put this on.”

She examined the lump of fabric in her hands. 

It was a dress. 

“People will see my wings!” 

“Yeah, that’s like the whole point,” Jubilee said.

(Y/N) sighed and slipped off her sweater, putting the dress on in its place. 

“You look so pretty!” Jubilee cooed. 

“Thanks.” (Y/N)’s immediate reaction was to fold her wings in tightly to her back, so they weren’t visible from the front. 

“Relax,” Jean told her, soon as she noticed what (Y/N) was doing. Jubilee signaled her to sit down on the floor next to her, amidst a hundred different makeup products. 

“I’m just gonna do some light, subtle makeup. Enough to enhance your features.” 

“Thanks?...” The brush tickled (Y/N)’s skin, making her nose scrunch up. 

“Relax your face. This doesn’t hurt.” 

“Sorry. Sorry…” 

“It’s okay.” 

—

Everyone somehow managed to fit in one car— except for Kurt and Peter, they were racing to see who could get to the party first— Jean and Scott in the front, Warren, Jubilee, Ororo, and (Y/N) in the back. 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Warren looked a little flushed, “Is Warren okay?” 

“Yeah, why?” Jean asked.

“His face is flushed. Is he just like, hot or something?”

“Or something…” Jean smiled, trying to act nonchalant. (Y/N) gave her a deadpan look through the rearview mirror. “I can’t tell you, but he’s fine.” 

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Scott asked, looking back at her through the rearview mirror. 

“Yeah.” 

Scott nodded awkwardly.

—

Once parked, everyone quickly tumbled out of the car. Music could be heard from the inside. It was loud.

“I want to go home.” 

“(Y/N) we just got here— dance with Jubilee or go sit outside with Ororo and Warren.” 

“Warren doesn’t like me.”

“Not true… He’s just quiet.” 

(Y/N) started to retaliate but Jean walked into the kitchen with Scott, and (Y/N) tried to not interrupt her time with her boyfriend, so she shut up. 

Peter was playing beer pong with some kids. Jubilee and Kurt were dancing and both had cups in their hands. There was some wanna-be punk band playing.

(Y/N) decided to join them.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” 

She waved her hand.

“You look nice,” Kurt said.

“Thanks.” 

“I did her makeup,” Jubilee bragged. 

Kurt giggled slightly, “Nice.” 

The band was mostly playing covers, but they were pretty good. (Y/N) was letting loose and dancing along with Jubilee and Kurt.

I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah! 

Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit… 

I'm traveling at the speed of light. 

I wanna make a supersonic woman of you! 

(Y/N) accidentally hit Jubilee with her wings. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine! They’re soft anyways.”

Don't stop me, don't stop me, don’t stop me. Hey, hey, hey! 

Don't stop me, don't stop me, ooh, ooh, ooh…

(Y/N) was actually enjoying herself. She was dancing and chanting incoherently along with the lyrics. She almost felt free. 

The last time she had felt like this was as a child. Before her wings grew in. Before her parents deemed her a monster who had to hide. Before she lost everything she had. Before she decided to speak less was better for her. 

She didn’t even think about any of it. She didn’t even think about how Jean was probably making out with Scott in a bathroom, or how Warren had been acting. She was having fun, and that was the only thing that mattered to her. 

—

At some point during the night, (Y/N), slightly tipsy, made it up onto the roof with a few other kids. Everything was fine at first, but they were way too drunk.

“Why don’t you jump off the edge?” One of them asked.

“What?” 

“Fly off the edge, birdie!” The other laughed. “Jump! Jump!”

“Jump! Jump!” 

In the rooftop kids efforts to get (Y/N) to jump, people on the ground started chanting too. 

“What’s going on?” Warren asked. Jubilee shrugged. 

(Y/N) was terrified, wings folded in tightly to her back.

Jean came running up to Warren, “(Y/N) can’t fly! She can’t hear me either, she’s too nervous, lost in her own thoughts.” 

Warren wanted to ask what he could possibly do, but he never got the chance. 

(Y/N) fell off the roof. 

Or maybe she was pushed off. Either way, it didn’t matter because she was screaming and falling and no one was doing anything. 

Warren bolted and flew up so he could catch her in his arms. She looked so weak and tired in his arms. She was crying and his heart dropped seeing her like that. 

Warren carefully brought her to the ground, making sure she could walk on her own. “Come here,” He gave her his jacket and wrapped an arm around her, letting her cry into his chest. 

“I hated that—” She sniffled, “—I’m never doing it again.” Warren nodded understandingly, holding her close to his side. 

“Let’s go home, okay?” (Y/N) nodded, still in a state of shock. 

—

The halls of the mansion were like a ghost town, everyone was either out, asleep, or couped up in one of the many rooms. Warren and (Y/N) were alone as they walked up to her room. 

“Why did you save me?” 

Warren blinked, looking at (Y/N). She rarely spoke to or around him. 

“Jean said you couldn’t fly.” 

“Oh…” She avoided Warren’s eyes in embarrassment. So Jean told him to save me because I’m useless. Of course…

“You could have died, falling from that high up,” Warren’s voice was stern, but he wasn’t angry. 

“Sorry…” She mumbled.

Warren furrowed his brows, “Sorry? What are you sorry for?” 

“I inconvenienced you…”

“What? No!” He stopped to stand face to face, holding one of (Y/N)’s hands. “You could never.” 

(Y/N) felt fuzzy inside. Was she getting sick? Was she allergic to Warren? Why is he so nice? Why am I so nervous?

“I’d do the same for anyone.” 

Oh. Yeah, no, he doesn’t really like me… nobody does…  “Right.” 

Warren noticed her mood change, but he didn’t call her out for it. 

“I’m gonna go to bed. Thanks for bringing me home…” 

“Of course…” He coughed for a moment, clearing his throat. “If you need anything, um, my room isn’t that far—”

“Thanks, Warren.” She forced a smile. “Good night.”  

 “Good night.”

—

Warren slipped off his t-shirt, discarding it on his desk chair. He laid in bed, thinking about (Y/N).

What if he hadn’t caught her in time?

He shook the thought away as he tossed in bed, slowly falling asleep.

Warren didn’t hate (Y/N). He just hated her wings… they reminded him of his old wings. The one thing he wanted most in life… his new ones were a constant reminder of his past mistakes, they were the wings of a monster. 

But Warren had changed, or so he thought. He hated seeing (Y/N)’s wings, despite them rarely being out. He was jealous and angry. Mostly at himself.

But (Y/N) didn’t know how to use her wings…

That was strange to Warren. Maybe there was more to her than he thought. 

—

(Y/N) awoke to a knock on her door. 

“Hggggg… Just give me a minute.” She groaned. She rolled out of bed and opened the door. 

“Jean? What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay! We got back late and Warren said you were already asleep.”

“Oh… Well, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay… Do you wanna come down for breakfast?” 

(Y/N) glanced at her pajamas. “Can I get changed first?...”

“You look fine! Most of the group is still in their pj’s anyway.” 

“Okay.” 

Jean led (Y/N) down the hall to the kitchen where her friends were. Most of them were chatting amongst themselves or shoving food into their mouths. 

“Hangovers?” She asked. 

“Yeah some, I’m surprised you don’t have one.” 

“I never said I didn’t.” (Y/N) got herself a cup and a plate, taking some of the food and drink available. 

“(Y/N), are you okay from last night?” Jubilee asked. 

She nodded. 

Peter let out a breath, “Thank God. Xavier would have killed us if you’d gotten hurt.” (Y/N) nodded again, trying to just focus on the food on her plate. 

“You’re lucky Warren was there to catch you,” Scott stated. 

“Yep.” 

“Is everyone going to keep talking about last night?” She asked herself.

“Probably. You could have broken your legs, or sprained an ankle— plus people like to talk.” 

“Gossip, you mean gossip.” 

Jean didn’t respond, she was too focused on whatever Scott was saying. (Y/N) rolled her eyes. 

Typical. 

Warren trudged into the kitchen— his curls tangled, wings almost dragging against the floor, and he wore the world’s most wrinkled t-shirt— he looked like he didn't want to be there. 

He opened up a cabinet and took out a mug. He closed the cabinet door and moved over near the coffee pot on the counter. He took it and poured plain, black, coffee into his mug. 

Then he took a sip straight from the mug. 

“There is creamer and milk in the fridge,” (Y/N) reminded him. 

“I know.”

“Oh.”

(Y/N) focused on her plate again, trying to pretend the awkward interaction didn’t happen. 

“Hey, uh, I was wondering—“ (Y/N) quickly looked up at Warren as he spoke. “I could like, help you learn to fly.” 

“Um…”

“No one would see us. If you’re worried about that.” 

“Oh my god! You should say yes!” (Y/N) quickly twisted her head over at Jean and almost gave her the finger, but Scott was watching. So she just glared. 

She didn’t want Jean in her head all the time. Especially at a time like this. 

She looked back at Warren, “Sure. I have nothing else to do.” 

“Cool. I have some stuff to do, but I’ll get you in a few hours.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Sounds good.” 

—

(Y/N) looked through her closet, trying to find something she could wear to fly in. Most of her tops weren’t exactly wing friendly. She sighed. 

She didn’t even want to do this— she just wanted to hide her wings forever and move on from last night. 

No. No, that wasn’t true in the slightest. 

She needed to learn to use her wings, they were a part of her, whether she liked it or not. She had her old life ripped away from her in exchange for the big black heaps of feathers on her back, weighing her down every day. She had to embrace them somehow. They were all she had. 

That and Jean… sometimes. And eventually, she’d have to leave the nest and talk to other people. 

Warren knocked on her door. (Y/N) glanced at her reflection— she still had her pajamas on! 

He knocked again, “(Y/N)? It’s me.” 

“Sorry! Give me a sec!” (Y/N) hurried and shut her closet, then opening her door to let Warren in. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, are you—“ He glanced at her clothes. (Y/N) instantly tensed up, insecure by his gaze. “Why are you still in your pajamas?” 

“Uh… I don’t really have anything good for flying—“ 

“Just wear some shorts and a shirt with holes in the back. Nothing fancy.” 

“You don’t understand, I have one shirt with holes in the back, and it’s in the laundry.” 

“You sleep with your wings tucked in?” Warren gawked.

“Sometimes.” She defended. 

Warren glanced at something shiny in the corner of his eye. “Grab a shirt you don’t care about.” 

“Okay…” (Y/N) grabbed an old Xavier’s school tee. 

“Give it to me.” She handed it to Warren. He took the scissors from her desk and quickly cut slits in the back of the t-shirt. “There. Now you have something to wear.” 

She just stared at Warren. 

“Are you gonna put it on or?...”

“Can you step out of the room then?” 

Warren’s eyes widened in realization on what he’d set himself up for. “Right! Right, um, do you need any help getting your wings through the holes?”

“If I do, I’ll ask. Now leave so I can get dressed.” 

“Yeah, right, right.” Warren quickly stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. 

(Y/N) huffed and slipped her large nightshirt off, throwing it on her bed. She grabbed the shirt Warren cut up and put it on without a second thought. 

Head pops out through the first hole. 

The arms go through the sleeves. 

The shirt slips down and covers the chest and torso. 

But the wing holes were new. (Y/N) tried to push one of her wings out but she struggled. It took her a bit of reaching back with her hands to spread the fabric a bit so she had more space before she could get it through the slit. 

The second wing she had more trouble with. 

(Y/N) couldn’t reach her arms back as easily to spread out the slit. And her whole wing wouldn’t go through since it wasn’t the loosest of shirts. 

(Y/N) opened her door and peeked her head out. “Hey, I need some help…” 

Warren perked up a little, following (Y/N) into her room. 

“Just like, hold the two sides of the slit out, and then I can get my wing through.” 

Warren did as she asked. 

“We’re they too small?” 

“A little, but also this isn’t baggy like most of my clothes, so…” 

“I can make the holes bigger if you want.” 

She dismissed him, “It’s fine. I’ll do it later.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I already wasted enough time getting ready. We should go out.”

Warren nodded, “Yeah. We’re gonna be out for a while.”

—

They were standing on the roof of Xavier’s, looking out onto the grassy campus. 

“So, uh, flying once you get the hang of it, is like a reflex almost… But uh basically, you just need to flap your wings, so you keep yourself afloat of sorts. Does that make sense?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay, um, just like, run off the edge—”

“Runoff the edge?!” (Y/N) asked, terrified of falling to her death. Scared of having a repeat of the night before.

“Just flap your wings, and if you mess up I’ll catch you.” 

(Y/N) stood at the edge, peering down at the ground below. “Are you sure?”

“Maybe back up a bit, get like a running start first.” 

(Y/N) did as he suggested, running off the edge. When her feet left the roof, she tried to flap her wings as Warren had told her. 

She felt herself flying like a wonky baby bird. Somewhat lopsided with each flap, but she was doing it! 

“Oh my gosh! Warren! Warren I’m doing it!” 

She could see Warren still on the roof. He gave her a thumbs up and some encouraging cheers. 

(Y/N) smiled, struggling to fly, but flying nonetheless. She looked down for a moment, and then suddenly realized she was many feet above the ground, in the air. (Y/N) panicked, and stopped flapping her wings for a moment, before she started to fall. 

“Shit!” Warren flew off the roof to save (Y/N).  

But it was a false alarm, for, by the time Warren was about to catch (Y/N), she’d regained herself and was no longer falling to the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, it’s just really high up, I’m scared of falling again, like at the party.” 

“Hey, hey, relax, don’t focus on the ground or your wings. Just— focus on me, okay?”

She looked at his face— his blue eyes, his plush pink lips, the dark lines adorned all over his face, and how he had a few untamable, blonde curls that framed his face— she looked at Warren’s wings and tried to copy how his fluttered and kept him aflight. 

“You’re doing it!” He told her.

“Really?” (Y/N) was almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, you’re doing great!” 

(Y/N) looked at her wings, realizing what she was doing. She was worried she’d fall, but it never happened. 

“I’ll race you to the mansion next door.” 

“Next door? That’s like several acres.” Warren gave her a knowing look, and then it all clicked. “Oh! Oh, you’re so on!” 

Warren laughed and they both flew off at high speed, away from school.

—

They got back to the mansion after sunset, both giggling and playfully fighting about who won the race. 

“I think I won—”

“Oh, yes, beginner’s luck, Baby Bird.”

She raises her eyebrows and points at him, “Aha! So you admit I won.”

“I may have let you…” 

(Y/N) scoffed, “Yeah, right.” 

“Yeah, you got me. I wouldn’t go too easy on you.” Warren was headed for the kitchen, but (Y/N) was going in the opposite direction.

“I was gonna get a bite to eat. Wanna join me?”

“Um, I was going to shower first…” 

“Oh… I’ll see you later then?”

(Y/N) was suddenly very awkward and nervous, “Um, yeah! Pfft, of course, uh— yeah. Yeah!” 

“Great!” Warren was also suddenly somewhat nervous. 

“Great!” 

The two were on their separate paths, before (Y/N) turned back for a moment.

“You good?” Warren asked.

“Yeah, um,” (Y/N) kissed his cheek. It didn’t last long, but it left her heart pounding and Warren flustered.

“Thanks for today. I’m gonna go shower.”

[livingmybestfictionallife]

I’m Glass

Anon Request:  Mgk and reader's first appearance together publically? Or their first time openly talking about each other in an interview?

Hauntober Prompt: Leaves

A/N: I own the poem in this story. Do NOT take or repost the poem without credit to me.

It seemed innocent enough...at first. It was supposed to be a voice-over recording for a song, but when Colson got the idea of making a music video instead, the innocence seemed to fade away.

(Y/N) had known Colson since he first moved to Los Angeles. She too was one of the many people who trekked across the country in search of fame of any sorts. She had a talented voice and was a brilliant writer, both with songs and literature, but she didn’t even begin to see the amount of fame the scrawny kid from Cleveland now known as Machine Gun Kelly had acquired over the years.

She found a simple life in LA, befriended photographers, helped open a fairly popular coffee shop, and continued to pursue her dream of writing. She never thought she would see Colson again face to face, but a friend of hers was close to Machine Gun Kelly’s manager, Ashleigh VeVerka. After a poetry reading at the coffee shop (Y/N) co-owned, her friend found a poem left behind at the coffee shop and brought the piece to Ashleigh.

(Y/N) was more than shocked to see the gangly blonde man she’d met so many years ago. Colson’s lips fell into a tight smile as he noticed the woman who was the first person to show him genuine support in his new town. He never forgot her. Even when he was dating model and actresses, (Y/N) was still in his mind--a constant question of ‘what if?’. Seeing her before him, standing there in a metal t-shirt, high-waisted jeans, and Doc Martens, Colson felt as if he was the same person he was when they first met. Suddenly, it felt like she was his truest supporter and the rest of the world had faded into a bleak distant memory.

It didn’t take him long to reconnect with (Y/N), and it took even less time for him to ask her to dinner and on a number of proper dates before he proposed they label their relationship. As their relationship progressed, Colson grew much more comfortable asking (Y/N) for her input with lyrics. One night, after drinking a bottle of wine each, he asked about the poem Ashleigh had received.

“Do you know who wrote it? She said your friend found it at your store after a reading,” Colson tried not to slur his words as drunken curiosity came over him and he pulled a small, pocket-sized piece of notebook with sharp and precise letters inked across the lines. (Y/N)’s eyes scanned the page briefly without even reading the words on the page.

“Th-this is mine, Colson,” she stammered as she sat up from laying against her boyfriend’s chest between his legs.

“No way? You wrote this?!” The wicked grin that spread across his face quickly infected his girlfriend as a crooked smile formed over her face in return.

“Yes? Why?” Her cheeks were red and hot with anxiety and anticipation of his feedback. Even when they met, she kept her works close to her chest, and before this excerpt, Colson hadn’t read a word of anything (Y/N) had written. It was astounding to him how someone as talented as her didn’t find the stroke of luck he had that made him everything he was today.

“I love it! I’ve been holding onto it since Ashleigh gave it to me before I saw you again. It’s that kind of raw, personal shit that resonates,” he slurred as he looked at the woman before him. “Damn, you’re incredible.”

It didn’t take long for Colson to decide he was going to incorporate (Y/N)’s poem into one of his songs, but it took much longer for him to convince her to read the poem aloud as a voice-over recording. She was still a nobody in the world and he was MGK; their relationship was a secret from everyone other than the people closest to them. The world had no idea the bad boy of the rap and punk scene was in a serious, committed relationship with a woman he cherished. He wanted to scream it from the highest rooftops, but (Y/N) knew better than to let the world become involved in their personal lives. She was normal, a private and discreet person who would lose all sense of privacy upon being even remotely connected to a star like Colson. If the press learned she was in a relationship  with a woman who works in a coffee shop, her life would turn upside down, and that wasn’t something Colson wanted to put (Y/N) through.

“Are you sure?” she asked after he explained that the voice recording was turning into a music video.

“It will be amazing! It’s just going to be you and me in the woods. They’re even having a special dress made for you to wear in the video!” The excitement in Colson’s eyes was too much for her to deny him of. She trusted him and knew that he knew what he was doing. (Y/N) would have loved to tell more than four people about the amazing man she’d come to love, but there was a hesitancy in her, a doubt that she never wanted to address but knew she would inevitably have to: would their relationship last through the public scrutiny? He couldn’t hide away for the rest of his life or pretend he was single whenever he was deeply committed tot his amazing person that he was more than blessed to have met let alone fallen in love with.

On the day of the shoot, too many nerves had strung themselves out all throughout (Y/N)’s body. Her neck and shoulders were tight and she tried her hardest to loosen up in front of the camera.With a deep breath, she allowed herself to relax into the curve of Colson’s body as he lay in the grass. A cool breeze tossed a strand of her hair over her shoulder, and the gentle touch of Colson’s fingertips against her cheek helped to put her mind at ease. With a deep breath, (Y/N) rolled onto her back; her head rested on Colson’s shoulder as his arm wrapped around her back. Together, they gazed up at the branches above them. Pale shades of orange, rich yellows, and deep reds hung above them and fluttered in the gentle tossing of the wind. Soft whistles captivated their attention as they watched the leaves dance in the air. Glints and gleams of the sun’s rays had poked through the branches of the trees surrounding them, and both Colson and (Y/N) had forgotten they were being filmed, that their actions and words were being documented and would be publicly accessible in a matter of weeks if not days from now.

“Did you ever think the world could be so peaceful?” Colson’s voice broke through the silence.

“Your world or mine?” (Y/N) asked with a smile curled onto her face.

“This is us. Together. It’s our world,” Colson deep voice firmly stated as he leaned forward and propped himself up on his elbows.

“You’re you. Colson Baker. Machine Gun Kelly.” Her voice was becoming distant as she fixated on how different the pair were. “You’re electricity; vibrant, energetic, lively... me?

I am glass,

Shards of glass

Strung together by an invisible thread of hope,

A hope which I refuse to believe in

Because hope has broken me

Too many times.

Yet I hold on,

Because it allows me

To help piece you back together.

And I think: Will we work?”

Colson’s breath hitched in his throat as (Y/N) effortlessly delivered the words she’d written about him in secret so many years ago. Without hesitation but wit delicate care, Colson leaned over and pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s forehead. With a soft breath escaping his lips, he smiled against her soft skin and said, “Yes, I think we will.” Again, his lips lowered to meet any part of (Y/N) they could find, and this time, they were fortunate enough to graze her mouth. 

The pair moved together into the kiss, adjusting their bodies and mouths to best accommodate the other’s body and mouth. The moment they shared together was gentle and passionate and wrapped in desire and intimacy. In that moment, (Y/N) suddenly became aware of the cameras pointed in their direction, but it didn’t seem to matter. She was happy. The answer to her question posed in a poem years ago had come in the form of the man she loved, a brisk fall day, and a kiss she never wanted to end.

[jensengirl83]

Unsung Verses Chapter 2

Rockstar!Dean x plus sized reader

Word Count- 3800

Summary-Y/N and Dean have been best friends since high school, in a band together, and dated for a year but decided they were better off friends. They play gig after gig trying to get discovered, but once they sign a record deal, will fame be all it’s cracked up to be? Or will it be too much for their relationship to handle? Join them on their adventure to fame and find out!

Warnings-Angst, Mutual Pining, A little fluff

A/N- Song in this chapter is “My Immortal” by Evanescence

Thank you to @deanwanddamons​​ for being my beta for this series!

Text dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Lyrics will be in italics. I really hope everyone enjoys this series! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Series Spotify Playlist

Y/N had kept to herself for a few days after their gig at the Replay Lounge in Lawrence. Waking up to find out that Dean had brought a girl back to their house was hard for her to take, as she was still in love with him, but it was apparent  that he didn’t feel the same. She had been thinking things over in her head and decided to move on. Y/N would always love Dean, but she couldn’t put herself through the torture of longing for him when he would never be hers again. She sighed as she lifted her coffee mug to her lips to take a drink, not realizing that someone had come into the kitchen. 

“Morning, Freddie,” Dean greeted her as he walked to the counter to pour his cup of coffee. 

“Morning,” Y/N answered, trying to smile, but he had seen right through it. 

“You’ve been scarce lately. What’s up?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. 

“I’m good. I Just needed some time to myself,” she told him, not looking up from her coffee. 

“You sure? This isn’t about Cassie, is it?” He questioned. He had been wondering if bringing Cassie back to the house was the reason Y/N had distanced  herself. 

“Who’s Cassie?” She asked, confused as to who he was talking about. 

“She was here the other morning. After the gig,” Dean answered as though it was obvious. 

“Oh, her? Why would I care about your  hook ups?” Y/N said, trying to act as if it didn’t bother her, even though it broke her heart just thinking about it. 

“You pulled away after that morning. I was just curious if she was the reason,” Dean said, hoping to see a flash of jealousy on Y/N’s face. If it did, it may prove that she still wanted him like he wanted her. 

“I told you, I needed time to myself. I don’t care who you bring home, but you need to abide by the rule you put in place and make sure whoever it is, is gone before we all get up the next morning. None of us want to see our conquests take the walk of shame,” she said with a fake laugh. Saying those words out loud was more painful than she thought. 

Dean watched as she smiled at him and walked out of the kitchen without another word. He could have sworn that he could hear his heart shattering. She really was over him, and that hurt. He stood in the kitchen in silence, thinking back to what made them call it quits in the first place. Sam had told him that it was because he was always flirting with girls after a gig, and now he was wondering if his younger brother had been right. If that was the case, it was Dean’s fault that they were no longer a couple. He shook his head and sighed, knowing it was time for him to move on. He would always love Y/N, but he couldn’t keep hoping for a relationship that would never happen. 

It had been a long and tiring week. They had just finished their second gig at the Replay Lounge, and were supposed to go on the road for a little while. Y/N was enjoying a drink at the bar as per usual. The show had gone smoothly, and everyone had enjoyed themselves, and that’s all she cared about at the moment. She knew that she couldn’t dwell on her emotions and had to focus if they would ever have a chance to make it big. 

She sipped her whiskey,  watching the other patrons  as they drank, danced, and had the time of their lives, while she sat there, alone and miserable. Y/N sighed at the realization that she had turned into what she had said she never would become. A sad, lonely girl at a bar. Making up her mind, she downed the rest of her drink and made her way to the stage where the next band was playing. She decided to let loose and danced and sang along to the music. She was determined to start living her life again. 

As she was enjoying the show, she couldn’t help but notice the band’s singer. His eyes were on her as she moved her body to the music. She had to admit that he was an attractive man. He had dark hair and dark eyes, the complete opposite of Dean, but maybe that’s what she needed. Y/N smiled and winked at the man, getting an instant reaction, boosting her confidence. The flirting continued throughout the rest of the show. She felt sexier and more confident as it went on. 

When the band's last song  ended, Y/N sent one last wink in the man’s direction before going back to the bar for another drink. She was all smiles as she enjoyed the burn of the whiskey as it went down, not noticing the man who walked up to the bar, taking the seat beside her. Dean watched them both, his eyes hard, shooting daggers at the guy trying to cozy up to her. 

“Hi there,” the dark-haired man said, “I’m Brent,” 

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” she responded with a shy smile. 

“I know. If you live in Lawrence and have eyes and ears, you know who the famous Y/N Y/LN is,” Brent said, winking at her. 

“I don’t know about that,” she chuckled, not used to getting this kind of attention. 

“I do. You’re amazingly talented, and let’s not forget, gorgeous,” Brent whispered in her ear. 

“You were pretty amazing up there,” Y/N giggled. 

“Maybe, but I sure don’t have the pipes and range that you have, cutie,” Brent told her, laying it on thick. She relished in the attention. 

“What’s your last name, Brent?” She asked with a grin. 

“Smith. So, now that we have been formally introduced, how about a dance?” he asked, reaching for her hand. 

“Well…” Y/N wasn’t sure until she glanced around the room.  Cassie was hanging off  Dean’s arm, “Sure, why not,” 

Dean was at the other end of the bar talking to Sam and Cas, Cassie hanging on his every word. He had to admit, it was nice to have a woman treating him this way. Of course, Cassie wasn’t and would never be Y/N, but that ship had sailed, and he had to carry on. Even if it was going to be hard, at least he had someone to help take his mind off of the woman he couldn’t have. His thoughts were interrupted by a laugh, a familiar one at that. He looked up to see Y/N on the dance floor with the guy he had been throwing daggers at earlier. It was as the singer of the band who had just been playing. He didn’t know if he wanted to scream, cry, or punch the dude in the face. 

“What’re you looking at?” Sam asked him, turning to see what his brother was glaring so intensely at. Following Dean’s line of sight, he understood his hard stare.

“It looks like Y/N found a friend,” Cassie laughed, secretly happy.

“Yeah, looks like. You ready to get out of here?” Dean asked Cassie, not wanting to watch Y/N’s one night stand unfold in front of him. 

“Let’s go, handsome,” she agreed, smiling at him. 

“Don’t forget the rule, Dean,” Sam reminded him. He knew he was only with Cassie because he couldn’t have Y/N, and Sam disagreed with his choice. 

“Yeah, bro. I remember,” he said with a roll of his eyes, grabbing Cassie’s hand and leading her to the door. He knew that he would have to see Y/N with someone eventually, but not right now. 

It had been almost a week since Y/N had met Brent, and he seemed like a nice guy, which made her happy. If she couldn’t have Dean, she was glad she had found someone who she could see herself dating. They had texted back and forth a few times over the week, but nothing too serious yet. She wanted to take her time to get to know him before she decided to continue seeing Brent or not. Hopefully, things would work out for her, and she could move on and be happy. 

Y/N was in the basement practicing before she got lost in her thoughts. She had written a song last week and was at the piano trying to work out the melody, not  noticing that Dean had walked downstairs. He watched her as she mindlessly tapped the piano keys, obviously lost in a daydream, a small smile on her face. He missed his best friend and had a motive for coming to the basement. 

“Hey, Freddie. What are you working on?” He asked, taking a seat beside her on the bench.

“Trying to work out the melody for this song I wrote, nothing major,” Y/N said with a chuckle, nudging him with her shoulder, “What have you been up to?” 

“I was tuning my guitars earlier, but no other plans. Do you want to have a best friend’s night? I thought we could order take out, chill out down here on the couch and watch a movie, maybe,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck, a little nervous and not sure why. She would always be his friend and hanging out together used to be easy.  

“Sure, we haven’t hung out in a while. Might be nice spending some time with your annoying ass,” she laughed as he mocked being hurt by her words. 

 “Ouch, Y/L/N, that hurt,” Dean said, protruding his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. 

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings?” She asked in a voice you would use when talking to a baby. 

“Screw you, Freddie. Burgers or Chinese?” He asked her to try to change the subject fast. 

“Chinese, please,” she giggled at the rhyme of her words. 

“You’re a child,” Dean huffed, turning to walk back up the stairs. 

“You know you love it!” She yelled at his back as he disappeared from her sight. 

Dean had ordered the food and was waiting for it to arrive before going back to the basement to watch a movie with Y/N. He knew being close to her would be hard, but he always wanted her in his life as a friend, so he had to to get used to it. He was determined to have a good time with her and needed to push all the negative thoughts from his mind. It had never been awkward when they hung out together before, and he wasn’t going to let that happen now. 

Dean had gathered everything they would need once the food had arrived and was on his way to the basement when his phone rang. Grabbing it from his pocket, he saw it was Cassie. He muted the phone and put it back in his pocket, walking down the rest of the stairs to the basement. He wasn’t going to let anything keep him from spending time with Y/N. It had been too long, and he was looking forward to it. 

“What took so long? I’m starving!” Y/N said with a shout, jumping up from the couch and helping Dean with the armload of utensils and condiments  he had brought down. 

“I’ve been gone thirty minutes,” he chuckled at her exaggeration. 

“It felt like longer,” she said, pouting her lips at him. Little did she know that she could get anything she wanted from Dean with that damn pout and those puppy dog eyes. 

“Okay, drama queen, let’s eat and watch something,”  he said, shaking his head at her with a laugh. 

“What are we going to watch?” She asked him as she sat and got comfortable on the couch with her food. 

“Any ideas?”

“Let’s watch Cry Baby!” She said with excitement. 

“What?! Why would you want to watch that?” Dean asked with a look of disgust on his face. 

“Because I like it, and Johnny Depp is hot,”

“No, we can agree on something else,” Dean said as Y/N pouted. 

“Fine! What do you have in mind then?” she asked him, watching while he tried to think of something. 

“Tombstone?” Dean asked with a smirk. 

“Yes! I’ll always agree to that movie,” Y/N said, smiling. 

“Good. Can you finish setting everything up while I get the movies started?” he asked, walking over to start the DVD player. 

“I’ll be your huckleberry,” she said, busting out into laughter at his shocked expression, “Come on, you have to admit, that was a good one! You wouldn’t have come up with it,” 

“Touche, Freddie, touche,” Dean chuckled.

Once the movie was playing, they sat on the couch, eating and laughing. It felt like old times, when they would spend all day together and have fun. They had missed being with each other like this, with nothing going on, just the two of them enjoying each other’s company. Dean was determined to have more days just like this one. 

“You getting tired?” he asked, catching Y/N yawning. 

“No, not really,” she said, trying to stifle another yawn. 

“Sure,” Dean laughed, holding his arm up to invite her to curl into his side. 

She took the invitation and curled up next to him, his arm coming down to rest against her side. It was nice to have him this close to her again, his body heat warming her and making her feel safe like no one else ever could. She sighed at the comfort and felt her eyes growing heavy, her eyelids winning out and she fell asleep. Dean smiled to himself as he felt her breathing even out, her body relaxing into him. He knew that this wouldn’t help his heart move on from her, but he couldn’t deny himself the happiness that having her close to him brought. He placed a kiss to her head, leaning back into the couch to finish the movie, eventually falling asleep with her still pressed against him. 

Y/N woke up the next morning in her bed with no recollection of getting there. The last thing she remembered was being curled up on Dean's side and watching the movie, apparently falling asleep on him. She stared up at the ceiling, remembering what it felt like to be with him, comfortable and happy. She missed it. She closed her eyes and sighed, wishing things could go back to the way they were when they were together in high school, before he started flirting with all the girls after their shows. Y/N had told Dean that they would be better off friends instead of telling him the truth. She felt that she would never compare to those girls, and with him being amazingly attractive, he deserved someone more beautiful than her. 

She groaned, sitting up and throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, her head hanging at the memories. Y/N knew she wasn’t bad looking, but she wasn’t the thinnest or prettiest, and she never would be. She would always carry the extra weight, but she was trying to learn to be okay with that. Some days it just didn’t work. Today seemed like it was going to be one of those days. She sighed as she stood from her bed and reached for her robe, throwing it around her body and heading out into the hallway for her morning quest of coffee. 

“Good Morning, sunshine,” Cas greeted her as she entered the kitchen. 

“Morning Cas,” Y/N smiled, walking over and placing a kiss on his cheek on her way to the coffee pot. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked. 

“Apparently so, I don’t remember how I got to my room last night,” she laughed. 

“Dean carried you up and put you in your bed,” Sam’s voice made her jump as he turned the corner into the kitchen. 

“That makes sense. Where is he anyway?” She questioned as she sat down at the island to enjoy her coffee. 

“Cassie called this morning. He’s out with her somewhere,” Sam said with a shrug. His back was to Y/N, and he didn’t see the hurt expression on her face. 

“Oh, okay,” she sighed, “I guess I’ll take a shower and finish working on the song I started,” 

“You’re writing a song? You haven’t written anything in quite a while,” Sam asked with genuine interest. 

“Yeah, I’m going to sing it at the next show, I think,” she said, giving Sam a side hug as she walked past him on her way to the basement. 

“If you need any help with the melody, let us know. Cas and I would be happy to help,”  he said, Cas smiling and nodding in agreement. 

“I will. Thanks, guys,” Y/N agreed. She knew she could always count on them if she got stuck with a song. 

She sat down at the piano and stared at the keys, knowing she wanted this song to be more piano than the other instruments, but wasn’t sure how she wanted the melody to flow. She closed her eyes and began to play the keys, singing the song and letting herself go, letting the piece wash over her, allowing her emotions to drive the song’s tone. 

“Sam! Cas!” Y/N’s voice carried up from the basement, causing the boys to rush downstairs. 

“What? What’s going on?” Sam ran in, looking around for what could be wrong, Cas right behind him. 

 “I finished it! Do you want to hear it?” She asked, excited she had finally finished the song. 

“Of course, but how about you don’t scare us to death next time, huh?” Cas said with a laugh.. 

“I’m sorry. I got excited,” She giggled with embarrassment. 

“What’s going on down here?” Dean’s voice boomed as he got to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Y/N finished a song. She wanted us to hear it,” Sam said, a smile on his face. 

“Let’s hear it then,” he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall. 

“Before I play it, don’t ask why I wrote it, and who it is for, okay? I know we are all close, but not everything in my life is an open book,” Y/N sighed. 

“Well, if it’s a love song, we know it’s about me,” Dean said with a smirk. 

“As if Winchester. Do you really think that you’re the only man I’ve ever loved? That’s cute,” she scoffed. Even though it was the truth, she would never let Dean know that.

“Whatever, just play it,”  he said with a chuckle, hoping it covered up the hurt he felt. 

She closed her eyes and placed her hands on the piano keys, taking a deep breath before playing the beginning notes. She had hoped she could play the song for Sam and Cas before Dean came home, considering she had written the song with him in mind. Y/N sighed as she took another breath, preparing to sing. 

I'm so tired of being here

Suppressed by all my childish fears

And if you have to leave

I wish that you would just leave

'Cause your presence still lingers here

And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

Dean’s breath hitched in his chest, realizing this was the song she was writing when he overheard her. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but knew he couldn’t leave without one of them asking questions that he couldn’t answer, so he put on the mask he was learning to wear when it came to Y/N. 

You used to captivate me by your resonating light

Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind

Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams

Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone

But though you're still with me, I've been alone all along

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

The basement was silent for what felt like an eternity as Y/N finished the song, no one daring to speak. She was afraid that they didn’t like it and her heart began to break as she hung her head. She was proud of this one and wanted the boys to like it too. Sam finally broke the silence. 

“Y/N...that..that was beautiful,” Sam said with a look of awe, “The melody is perfect!” 

“I agree. That was beautifully written and arranged,” Cas agreed, smiling at her, proud of his friend. 

“Dean?” She asked, walking around the piano and coming to stand in front of him. She knew it shouldn’t matter, but Dean’s opinion was the most important to her. 

“Amazing, sweetheart, as usual,” he said, putting on his best smile, trying to hide the emotions the song had made him feel. 

“Really?!” She asked him. Dean could see the excitement on her face. 

“Really, Freddie. I loved it,” he told her with a grin, not prepared for the sudden hug she gave him. Her arms  tightly wound around his waist, squeezing him tight. He couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I don’t think I’ll play it at our show, though,” she said, pulling back, looking at the boys. 

“Why not? It’s great, Y/N,” Sam told her. 

“I’m happy that you guys heard it and loved it. That’s good enough for me. Who knows, I may record it if we ever get a record deal,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. 

“When we get a deal, Y/N. Not if, when,” Dean said, smiling down at her. 

“You’re right. When we get a record deal,” Y/N sighed, wrapping her arms around him once more, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms, no matter the reason. 

@flamencodiva​​​ @foxyjwls007​​ @waywardbeanie​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @voltage-my2dlove​​ @hardcoresupernatural​​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @lyarr24​ @anaelsbrunette​ @akshi8278​ @midsummereve1993​ @sutton2001​ @emory91​ @halesandy​ @miss-nerd95​ @ellewritesfix05​ @winchest09​ @defenderrosetyler​ @hobby27​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​  @deanwanddamons​ @atc74​ @superfanficnatural​  @supernatural-love14​ @vicmc624​ @squirrelnotsam​ @tatted-trina6​ @xhannahbananax03​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @nihilismworld​ @mrsfox79​ @malfoysqueen14​ @moron225​ @deans-baby-momma​ @lovelyrocker​ @fablesrose​ @queenofchaos7​ @maralisa124​ @deangirl93​ @aimee-ginge​ @anathewierdo​ @donnaintx​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @itsdesiree86​ @kyjey​ @roxytheimmortal​ @briagallen​ @aubageddon91​ @lunarmoon8​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @stoneyggirl​ @kitkatd7​ @wonder-cole​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @allonsy-yesiwill​  @krazykelly​ @440mxs-wife​ @rebelemilu​ @sarahbaker2010​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @tyferbebe​ @metalfangirl​ @vanessa27xoxo​ @mishacollins4evah​ @itsdesiree86​ @redbarn1995​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @izzathequeen​ @moron225​

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Hand-holding, 5, Gar and Conner

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Can't Stop The Feeling

Pairings/Relationships: Garfield Logan & Conner Kent, Core Four

Summary: Conner has no clue about dancing. So Gar tries to teach him.

Hand-holding | 5. Platonic hand-holding, Gar & Conner - for @books-life-death

REQUESTS CLOSED (for now)

also tagging my bestie @undertheknightwing because it's ya boy Gar so you should be notified

____________________________________________

I got this feeling inside my bones.

"It goes electric, wavy when I turn it on!" Gar sang happily to the tune on the radio, not giving a damn that he's totally off key. He's been playing around in the kitchen for about an hour now and he had it all for himself, so he decided to test his culinary skills and prepare a feast.

Him and Rachel finally got Dick and Kory to get out for a date night and with other team members also spending their own free evening elsewhere, the Tower was mostly empty. When the two lovebirds finally left (or more like got kicked out because the two teenagers basically had to push their dramatically worried asses into the elevator, dodging questions and reminders like bullets) Gar asked Rachel if she'd like to help him in the kitchen but she had a slightly different idea for celebrating their victory - she locked herself in her bedroom with her pencils and brushes and got to work on another art masterpiece.

But he didn't mind working alone - it gave him more space to experiment.

He turned up the volume on the radio, singing along with Justin Timberlake and headed to the fridge, sliding on the polished wooden floor in his bright green socks. Stacking up things he needed in his arms he swayed his hips to the beat and smiled remembering how back at the Doom Manor he often caught Larry dancing while cooking. He balanced the tower of ingredients in his arms, holding the tip of it with his chin as he waltzed to the kitchen island.

"Nothing I can see but you when you dance, dance, dance…" he kept singing out loud as he chopped and cut vegetables and put them in the biggest pot he could find.

He twirled and jumped around the counter, busting moves and screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs, completely lost in the music. He grabbed the chopping board and swung his arm over it, playing a riff on the invisible guitar and the crowd in his mind screamed.

"What are you doing?"

These four words worked on him like a hammer shattering glass - the happy illusion fell apart and Gar found himself awkwardly standing in front of Conner, who was staring at him baffled with his round eyes. "I didn't know cooking was…" he paused to find the right words, "physically demanding." He looked down at the almost empty bowl of popcorn in his arms and frowned. "I guess I've been doing it wrong."

When the initial shock faded, Gar chuckled and put his imaginary instrument away.

"This is not cooking," he said, shooting him a crooked grin. "It's dancing."

"Dancing?" the boy's face twisted, brows furrowing in something between confusion and focus. "I- I think I know what this is but I don't really… get it."

"It's easy," Gar shrugged. "You hear the song on the radio? All you need to do is move. You gotta feel the rhythm, man!" he outstretched his arms as he spoke and demonstrated a perfect (in his opinion) arm wave.

Unfortunately that didn't make Conner look any less clueless.

"Feel the… rhythm?"

Gar's arms dropped to his sides and his shoulders slumped when he let out a sigh.

"C'mon, let me show you."

He walked up to his friend and reached out his hands in offering. Conner glanced down at them, then back at Gar's encouraging face grinning at him and slowly, a bit hesitantly laid down his palms on top of Gar's. The green haired boy's fingers wrapped around his and then he pulled Conner into the open space between the kitchen and the lounge.

"It's easy, Conner!" he laughed, spinning them both around. "Listen to the beat!"

He tapped his foot onto the wooden floorboards, showing the other boy how his body moved in tune with the music, hitting every note perfectly in time. Gar started swinging his arms, swaying his hips, nodded his head to the rhythm as his legs stepped one way or the other.

"Got this feeling in my body!!!" he belted out as he spun Conner around and watched with a smile as his friend tried to mimic his moves, at first a bit sloppy and awkward, but getting better with each passing second.

"I think I got this!" Conner's high pitched excited voice rang over the song and Gar nodded in agreement.

"You got it, dude!"

As the last note of the tune played out and the melodic ooohhh faded into silence, Gar and Conner ended their little performance with their hands clasped high in the air, facing the windows with the biggest smiles on their faces as if the entire San Francisco was their audience. In Gar's mind the city lights glowing in the black of night were thousands of lighted up phones and glowsticks and the wind howling outside was the crowd screaming his name. The two boys looked at each other, grinning like idiots as they both tried to catch their breath - or as Gar did, because Conner with his super-everything didn’t even break a sweat.

The sound of slow, almost obnoxious clapping broke their little bubble of imagination and the two whipped around, startled, only to find Rachel standing by the breakfast table with a smirk on her face.

"That was… something." she said, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes darting from one surprised face to the other.

"How… How long were you standing there?" Gar's voice sounded tight even for his own ears. He felt his cheeks slightly blushing in embarrassment as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Long enough to enjoy the show."

Something in her tone, that mischievous spark in her eyes told Gar she did more than just ‘enjoy the show’ and his gaze dropped to her left hand, catching the tip of her phone hidden underneath her arm. There was no doubt a high quality blackmail material was there and they both knew it. Their eyes met as Gar tried to find something in her gaze that would tell him he's wrong but Rachel only held her chin up and slid her phone in the back pocket of her black jeans, not even bothering to hide it anymore. It was a clear challenge and a warning, both in one sharp gaze and a smug smile.

Conner, oblivious to the silent game the two siblings were playing, smiled at her and happily announced.

"Gar was teaching me how to dance!"

He shook their joined hands for emphasis. Rachel laughed.

"I can see that. Was he a good teacher?"

"I think so," the boy replied and let go of Gar's hand, then outstretched his arms to the sides like Gar did earlier. "I mean, I think I got this now."

His arm wave was… not good to say the least, but the proud look on his face filled Gar's heart with warmth. He walked over to his friend and patted his shoulder.

"You're a fast learner."

Rachel smiled at the two for a bit longer then turned towards the kitchen.

"Well, I came here to get some coffee." she said, walking slowly to the coffee pot and pouring the drink to her favorite mug. She eyed the mess on the counter on her way back, peering into the pot then stealing a piece of tomato. Gar held up his finger, about to say something but she only smirked at him and threw it into her mouth.

She stopped right next to him though, leaned in close to his face and whispered.

"Dick and Kory were very impressed."

As if to confirm her words, her phone let out a quiet ding and her smirk grew even wider. She reached for it and opened the message in front of him. It was a picture of the pair, both glammed up and pretty in some fancy restaurant. The table was set with flowers, candles, some expensive cuisine and a bottle of wine cooling in a bucket full of ice. But what Gar's eyes focused on the most was Dick's goofy smile, Kory trying to quiet down a giggle and their thumbs up in the air.

His face drained of all the color.

They are never gonna let him live it down. Like ever.

[c-c-cherry]

What's the most embarrassing thing each of the Bucci gang has done/has had happen to them?

Ok I took WAY too long on this but I loved this question so much and it was so fun coming up with these. Special thanks to my girl @jjadegreen for helping me!!

**This isn’t NSFW but I’d say its teen and up just because of some of the stuff talked about hehe**

______________________

Mista

-Pre-canon Mista was a bit sick one night so Bruno made him stay home while they all went on this one mission

-So naturally he’s like “HELL YEAH HOME ALONE”

-Bruno forgets his wallet and had to come back a little while later to get it and walks in on him wearing the following:

One of Abbacchio’s signature goth dress robe thing

Like 12 of Bruno’s barrettes all sticking to the top of his head

Fugo’s tie

Narancia’s bandana

All while BLASTING K-Pop at full volume in the living room. And our man is INTO IT. This isn’t just some radio coincidence shit, he was SCREAMING the lyrics. He owns the CDs.

-Bucciarati LOSES IT. Mista has never been so mortified in his life and Bruno has never laughed so hard in his life.

-He promises not to tell the rest of the gang but tells him it’s officially blackmail material

-They never speak of it again but at Christmas Mista opens Bruno’s gift and it's a brand new K-pop CD and everyone thinks its just a gag gift but like

-He definitely listens to it later alone in his room

Bucciarati

Bruno Bucciarati does not get drunk for two main reasons:

He blacks out every time

He’s an absolute lightweight

-The last time Bruno got absolutely piss drunk, he was with Abbacchio and it wasn’t even funny. It was just surreal because Bucciarati never lets himself go to such an extent

-For whatever reason Bruno is like “hey I never drink we should go to the bar or something” after a successful mission

-Even though the legal age of drinking is technically 16 in Italy they leave “the kids” home to watch mean girls or some shit

-Mista tags along too because he’s worried Bruno will get drunk and spill about the unfortunate “K-pop incident”

-My man Bruno drank like two beers and was immediately GONE like he got up and got lost in the bar after way too many drinks and ran into a drag Queen with Abbacchio’s hair

-Said drag queen became Bruno Bucciarati’s new drinking buddy

-He stumbles over to the karaoke contest and gets onstage and grabs the shitty bar mic and screams “THIS GOES OUT TO LEONE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MWUA TWO YEARS HONEY~” and Mista is just like 👁👄👁

-Because uhhh they have literally been together for two years but everyone in the gang just thinks its a weird on/off thing because they never talk about it

-He sings dancing queen because its by ABBA and both Leone and Mista are fucking screaming with laughter and Abbacchio is filming the entire goddamn thing

-He buys the entire bar drinks they all love him so much

-Afterwards Leone tries to get them home so he leaves them outside while he takes a piss and when he walks back out THEY ARE GONE.

-Mista thought it would be a perfect time for them to get tattoos because his fucking capo is drunk off his ass and there is no better time

-Mista gets these two giant smoking guns on his back and his ass is in SO MUCH PAIN afterward that he leaves Bruno alone while he’s picking out his tattoo to get ice cream

-When he comes back Bruno has a tattoo ON HIS LEFT FOOT THAT SAYS “Never don’t give up.” The tattoo people tried to correct him but he insisted

-Abba finds them and is just like “jesus god” and takes them all to a hotel because there is no way in hell he’s taking them back home like this

-The next morning Bruno remembers absolutely NOTHING and as the gang admires Mista’s giant tattoo they ask if Bruno got one too and he’s like “god no I’m not that irresponsible”

-As soon as they’re alone Abba’s like “you got one on the bottom of your foot” and you can just see the moment Bucciarati’s soul leaves his body

Fugo

-Ok so if y’all didn’t know Fugo literally canonically wears a thong

-This isn’t sexualizing him (also I am indeed a minor don’t harass me) it's just a fact of life. You do you Fugo.

-So he sneaks out of the house once in a while and goes shopping for them cause our man’s gotta live, you know?

-He pops in the underwear store one day and you wanna know who he fucking passes by in the lingerie section?

-Bruno fucking Bucciarati.

-Which isn’t exactly a surprise considering he’s wearing visible lingerie in his tiddy window outfit but like

-That’s like running into your dad at femboy hooters

-Much to his dismay, the man spots him immediately and there’s just this...awkward silence as Fugo is holding this shopping basket of underwear and Bruno is holding the raunchiest piece of clothing he’s ever seen in his life

-They never talk about it again. Fugo finds a different store.

Abbacchio

-The most mortifying moment Abbacchio can live to remember is the first time he told Bucciarati that he loved him

-Pre-canon, our man is NOT having a vibing time

-He gets absolutely wasted with while Bruno’s at his apartment

-He’s the most miserable drunk, so he’s just fucking sobbing and Bucci is sitting there trying to console him and Abbacchio just looks up at him with tears streaking down his face and says “I’m in love with you” and the look on Bruno’s face just makes him feel even more miserable

-The entire night he keeps blubbering about how much he loves him and how much he means to him and how beautiful he is and the entire time Bruno is doing that thing where he tries to cover his face with his hand because our man is mega FLUSTERED up in here

-When he wakes up he remembers EVERYTHING and he wished he didn’t because then maybe he would be able to say that he didn’t mean it

-Bruno is surprisingly just like “Did you really mean it?” and he can’t lie so he just tells the truth and he’s just nonchalantly like “me too”

-Bruno thinks it’ll be a nice wedding story and Abbacchio no longer wants to live on this planet

Narancia

-Mista and Narancia are vibing in the living room one night and Nara tells Mista to grab his gameboy from upstairs

-He says its under his pillow (or else Bruno will take it away every night hehe)

-But you wanna know what else is under Narancia’s pillow? His Diary. No, it’s not a journal or just a blank book, Mista finds a book titled DIARY.

-And the shit in there is priceless.

“Bucciarati is sooo cool. I tried cutting my hair like his, but it didn’t really work. I think I gotta wear this hat for the next couple weeks. Shit. Fuck. If someone takes it off, I’m so fucked.”

“I clogged up the toilet yesterday and was too scared to tell Abba, so I just flushed it again but then the water wouldn’t stop flooding everywhere so I used Aerosmith to explode the toilet and told Abba that it was a stand attack. He believed me. If ANYONE ever finds out, I’m dead.”

“HOLY SHIT. I swallowed a tide pod yesterday and freaked out so I made Giorno turn it into a grape in my stomach with his stand. I almost DIED. But I didn’t so I’m over it. If Giorno ever tells anyone, I’ll kill him.”

-Narancia realizes about ten minutes after Mista left that HOLY SHIT HIS DIARY

-he finds Mista three quarters way through it and gives him $50 not to tell anyone about it.

-The shame never leaves, though

Trish

-Jade gave me a cute headcanon that Trish’s mom was still only teaching her how to properly put on makeup before she died (it's not like there was youtube or anything to teach her either) so our girl Trish only knows the basics

-She puts on lip gloss and blush and mascara and stuff but she’s never even TOUCHED eyeliner and rarely puts on eyeshadow. She doesn’t even wear concealer most of the time (she honestly doesn’t even need to, her skin is baby soft smooth)

-So long story short she kind of misses her mom and remembers how her mom was going to teach her a smokey eye before she died and is determined to teach it to herself now

-So she pulls a little heist and snatches some of Abbacchio’s makeup while they’re all out doing stuff

-She was not prepared for how heavy this shit was. She was used to the lighter, more natural stuff but Abba’s makeup is EXTREME.

-All of his stuff is waterproof so it doesn’t wash off while he’s crying at 3am and it’s just this—dark, heavy stuff.

-She actually hasn’t used a thick, real tube of lipstick before, only those little gloss tubes with the stick because she has smaller lips so when she crouches over with a small makeup mirror in fear of anyone somehow walking in on her and smears Abbacchio’s thick, dark purple lipstick on her lips, she knew she was absolutely fucked. She has no idea how to do this shit, especially not with dark, heavy goth makeup

-The smokey eye does not work. It’s just smeared eyeshadow EVERYWHERE, it looks like she has two giant, awful, black eyes and her first attempt at eyeliner was just—unspeakably horrible

-She has no idea where to start so she just puts on way too much of absolutely everything and immediately regrets it the moment she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror

-Abba comes home early and immediately realizes that some of his makeup is gone and he knows it has to be Trish

-He walks upstairs to confront her but just hears loud, ugly sobbing coming from her room and bursts in only to find her desperately trying to wipe off layers of caked-on water-proof makeup and absolutely failing

-The two of them spend all night taking it off all while Trish is still crying teary apologies to him

-To add in some wholesome Dadbacchio, he teaches her how to properly put everything on the next day <3

Giorno

-Some people forget that as a 15 year old, Giorno sometimes has absolutely no impulse control

-So when Polnareff tells him that he’s the spitting image of his evil, murderous, vampire dad he’s immediately like “haha well I’m gonna go dye my hair now”

-Everyone had something to do that day/night so Giorno waltzes over to the nearest drug store and grabs one of those at-home dying kits (he got dark green cause he thought it would look cool with his new outfit)

-He gets home and has absolutely no idea what he’s doing so he just thinks it’ll work out somehow

-Soooo yeah he does NOT put it in properly at all, he just kind of takes the shit and slathers it all over his hair and doesn’t do his roots and doesn’t put it up and leaves it dripping down his back and stuff and his stupid ass FALLS ASLEEP with the hair dye in

-He wakes up and the sheets are this really awful light green colour but he doesn’t pay any mind to it

-He looks in the mirror and from the front it actually looks good and he gets all excited and decides to wash it out

-When he gets out of the shower it’s this awful disgusting light light ugly green and he almost cries. Almost.

-It looks like someone dunked him in that Nickelodeon slime and he looks at the package and it says the dye will stay in for at least 3 weeks and there aRE TEARY EYES

-He spends the next hour in the shower trying to wash it out. It does not wash out.

-Utterly defeated with his hair matted and donuts practically falling apart, he stumbles over to his room and tries to wash the sheets covered in slime-coloured hair dye which *surprise!!!* doesn’t wash out either!

-He must dispose of the evidence, but of COURSE they’re out of garbage bags so he shoves all the dye kit stuff and the sheets into a mafia body bag and chucks it by the garbage can outside without a single thought

-Which he SHOULD have had a single thought about it, because when they get home and Narancia spots the body bag he’s like “holy shit guys I think Giorno killed someone while we were out”

-So they all panically pop into the house and cautiously try to find Giorno. Fugo finally finds him pacing around his room in the dark and when he flicks on the lights HO-LY SHIT.

-Fugo obviously bursts out into laughter and Bruno books it up the stairs and also starts cackling and Narancia is like “OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE LOOKING LIKE THAT?!” and Giorno has to explain to them that the body bag is filled with stained bedsheets (much to his embarrassment)

-Abbacchio takes so many pictures and Giorno is having a nervous breakdown because he cannot live with his hair looking like this

-Bruno makes Abba fix it the next morning and he loves every second of Giorno’s mortification

-The pictures Abbacchio took of that night are framed next to the pictures of Bruno’s wasted karaoke night in his room

______________________

Thank you for the ask, anon!! I’m absolutely exhausted now haha so I’ll scroll through the rest of the asks when I wake up!!

[capaldifiction]

Graham Norton Show - Lewis Capaldi x Reader

I apologize for how long these have been taking me to get to, but I hope you like your request 💙

Paring: Lewis Capaldi x Actress Reader

Word Count: 2,014

Description:  Based on this request: “Where the reader and him are doing the interview on Graham Norton show and being funny as hell and everyone knows they are dating even if they didn't say it. Can you also add then having long cute stares at each other.”

Warnings: Some swearing

“And welcome our next two guests, Y/N and Chris Pratt!” Graham Norton calls out as the two enter the set to applause. Waving to audience quickly, Y/N smiles before turning to shake the hands of Graham, Jared Leto, and Tom Ellis before taking her place next to Tom, with Chris sitting to her left.

“How are the two of you doing? Enjoy your trip back home to the U.K. Y/N?” Graham asks.

“Real good,” she respond with a small smile, relaxing back into the couch. “Long flights suck, but being back home is always great. Haven’t gotten to get back to my actual house yet, but what can ya do?”

“I’m doing great,” Chris nods in response. “Got to film and now promote this film with this fantastic woman right here. She’s hilarious, and gives me a run for my money as set prankster.”

“Oh?” Graham asks noticeably intrigued. “And what kind of pranks is Y/N pulling?”

“Oh nothing that great,” Y/N insists, her cheeks reddening as she tries to talk it down.

“How long do we have?” Chris asks with a grin toward the audience that cheers in response.

“Give us one good one,” Graham insists.

“Hmmm,” he says as his gaze drifts to the ceiling of the set. “Probably the prosthetic zombie finger she stuck to the bottom of my coffee cup, then filled it with my coffee and brought it to me. Took me an hour to finally see that sucker. We’re standing there discussing the next scene, I take a sip and seeing a freakin’ finger coming up out of my coffee and chucked it.”

“He screamed like a little girl,” Y/N grins cheerfully to the audience’s laughter. “It was fantastic.”

“Well we can’t expect anything less… from the one rumored to be dating our hilarious musical guest of the day,” Graham teases.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” she insists, her eyes immediately leaving Graham’s.

“Oh? So you’re denying the rumors of you and Lewis Capaldi?”

“Absolutely.”

“I mean,” Chris butts in with a shrug. “He was on set an awful lot for someone who lives in Scotland when we were filming in Canada.”

“Well yeah, we are friends, I never said we weren’t friends and he never visited me, we live near each other and see each other all the time and he had some concerts in North America so he dropped by a few times to hang out and see the set,” she rambles quickly as she tugs at the bottom of her shirt in embarrassment.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Tom Ellis throws in, raising his eyebrows.

Jared and Graham laugh as Y/N sinks further in the couch and reaches for her drink on the table.

“Bit thirsty there Y/N?” Jared teases.

“Parched,” she quips back with narrowed brows to her former costar.

“So the film you two are starring in is ‘End Of The Living,’ care to give us a taste of what it’ll be about?” Graham asks looking at Y/N and Chris.

“Well my and Chris’ characters are neighbors in an apartment building that don’t really get along. They deal with seeing each other on an occasional basis, but generally avoid each other. Then all hell breaks loose as the zombie apocalypse basically breaks out, and they have to work together to survive.”

“Annnnd then they fall in love,” Chris adds with a chuckle.

“Naturally, nothing says love like zombie guts and certain death,” Y/N nods with a carefree smile.

“And here on the couch we have a vampire, two zombie hunters, and Satan himself,” Graham summarizes as he looks at his guests who laugh in response. “It’s a nice light promotional day isn’t it?”

“Zombie hunters are no match for Morbius though,” Jared jokes looking over to Chris and Y/N.

“Says you,” Chris throws back. “But if we can’t Star Lord will wipe the floor with him since he’s in his world.”

“In all due respect,” Tom jumps in, “None of them can take on Lucifer.”

“And with that, we should go to a break, when we get back we’ll see our musical performance from Lewis Capaldi!” Graham shouts as the cameras shut off.

Giving pointed looks to the men around her, and sticking her tongue out at Jared, Y/N’s attention is finally caught by the instruments being brought in for Lewis’ performance.

She nods at his piano player Aiden as he gets settled, then smiles as Lewis himself comes out onto the set. The typical nervous expression always etched on his face before a performance there. He looks up to see her gaze on him, and smiles wide before sending a wave her way.

Smiling in turn she waves back at him as she watches them finish setting up, ignoring the scoffed laughed from Chris beside her.

As the lights brighten again, the cameras come back to life as Graham steps in front of the camera, “And here to perform his newest hit, two-time Brit winner and Grammy nominated singer Lewis Capaldi!”

The cameras turn toward Lewis as he begins the song, and Y/N leans forward with her chin in her hands as she watches the performance intently, standing up and applauding loudly as Lewis hits the last note.

Finishing up the song, Lewis sets his guitar down and gives a wave to the audience before heading over to the couches. Shaking each person’s hand down the line, he stops to pull Y/N into a side hug, whispering something in her ear causing a smile to spread across her face.

After all shaking hands, all the guests take their seats once again. As Chris sits back down, he places his arm on the couch behind Y/N, while Lewis takes his seat on the other side of him. Lewis’ gaze lingers on Chris’ arm for a moment with a frown before forcing it away and looking to Graham.

“Fantastic performance Lewis!” Graham says looking over at him. “Now where do we start? The new album you have coming out or the triple platinum on your last one and the two Brits you’ve gotten since you were last here?”

“The new album Graham,” Y/N says before Lewis can respond, throwing him a look. “You’ll give him a bigger head if you go on about the other things.”

“And that’d be a bad thing Y/N?” he asks with a teasing tone.

“There’d be no living with you if it got any bigger,” she sighs dramatically.

“Living with him?” Jared asks as he looks between the two, noticing Lewis’ gaze lingering on her a moment too long.

“W-well yeah,” she answers hastily. “We live pretty close, I see him pretty often.”

“Speaking of you two living close, do you also go on some of his tours Y/N?” Graham asks. “You appear on quite a few of his social media posts from Instagram to Tik Tok, and everyone’s loving seeing that side of you when you usually play such serious roles.”

“Well we just always have a good time. I have gone on some of his tours when I’m not working, get to see some cool places with a good friend of mine. And we’re both a little weird, so it makes for some interesting videos I guess,” she shrugs.

“Let’s take a look at one of them now,” Graham says, gesturing to the screen beside him.

The screen changes to a clip of Y/N wearing a Lewis Capaldi merch t-shirt and a pair of black sunglasses as she stands atop a large table singing the lyrics to ‘Grace.’ Throwing her head back, she starts dancing to the music, when the camera pans over to Lewis also doing the dance from his music video and singing the song at the top of his lungs.

“I’m not ready to be just another of your mistakes!” she yells out as the camera follows Lewis moving in front of the table she’s dancing on. As she finishes the line, she launches herself onto his back, a look of panic on his face as they both crash to the ground in front of the camera, followed by a chorus of obscenities.

As the clip fades out, Lewis and Y/N have equally red cheeks as they make eye contact and look down at their drinks while the audience and other guests laugh.

“And what were you two doing there?” Graham asks with a grin.

Lewis runs his hand through his hair breaking his gaze from Y/N back over to Graham, “That, that was a less than sober rendition of my song and Y/N trying to kill the both of us as my piano player filmed us.”

“Ok but we were on his tour and had too much to drink and it seemed like a good idea at the time,” she defends.

“Alcohol would do that,” Tom teases.

She smiles at him sheepishly before taking a drink, “Alright we don’t always make the best choices, but we do make the fun choices.”

“Fuck yeah,” Lewis agrees with a grin, his eyes quickly widening before muttering a quiet apology.

“So about this new album, what should we be expecting from it and when?” Graham asks.

“Well there are the artists that really want to reinvent themselves for their next album, really try something new and push the boundaries of music,” he replies. “And that’s not me. It’s gonna be more sad shit, and hopefully if you liked the first album you’ll like the second. We’re looking at it coming out in May of this year.”

“No inspirations for happy love songs in your life huh?” Chris asks with a knowing smile, glancing at Y/N next to him who quickly looks away from Lewis.

“Nope, I’m sad and alone,” Lewis confirms, his gaze once again drifting to Chris’ arm behind Y/N on the couch, then to her eyes as a content smile spreads across both their faces.

“Right then,” Graham chuckles as he stands up from his seat. “That’s all we have time for tonight. Give a big round of applause for my guests tonight, Lewis Capaldi, Chris Pratt, Y/N, Tom Ellis, and Jared Leto! I’ll see you next week everyone!”

Once the cameras have shut off, the guests all stand up to bid their goodbyes to one another.

“It was great seeing you again,” Jared says, pulling Y/N into a quick hug over the table. “We really need to work together again some time.”

“I get pranked enough in my personal life to go up against you again,” she chuckles setting her empty glass down on the table. “You take it to a whole new level Leto.”

“Oh you know you loved it,” he teases patting her shoulder.

“Of course, snake in my dressing room was the best,” she says while rolling her eyes but smiling. “It was good talking again. Hit me up sometime again sometimes. And it was great meeting you,” she says turning to Tom.

“You as well,” he responds with his own smile. “That goes for all of you, I had a great time.”

“Same here bud,” Chris says throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder and extending it for a fist bump at Tom who bumps it with a smirk, his gaze going to a very obviously uncomfortable Lewis behind Chris.

“It was fucking fantastic meeting you all,” Lewis interrupts after a moment. “All of you are amazing. But if you don’t mind…” he reaches around Chris to snag Y/N’s hand, who he quickly pulls out of his grasp and to his own side.

Placing a quick kiss on her cheek, he mumbles, “Let’s get out of here.”

Y/N nodding in agreement, follows Lewis off the set hand in hand with shy smiles on their faces as the last few remaining people in the audience cheer.

Turning to look at the other two men, Chris smirks and crosses his arms in victory, “Fuckin knew it.”

-----

Extra Notes: As to why I chose Jared Leto, Tom Ellis and Chris Pratt. Chris Pratt I thought would be a good funny guy that would mess with Lewis and Y/N a bit (and I’m a big Marvel fan so I’ve seen some of his interviews lol). Jared Leto just because I’ve been a fan of him and his band for a really long time and just thought he was someone I could write alright. And Tom Ellis because I felt like the Lucifer show fit the vibe of this, and I had the chance to see a live panel of him at a Comic Con I went to where he was just a really cool guy.

Masterlist

Request List

[ambientstars]

You once said you are a sl*t for praise so I was hoping you could write a 13 and fem reader about that? Please 😇

Gif credit: unknown

Note: I realised you asked for 13 after I wrote this, so I apologies for changing it. This isn’t half as detailed as I could’ve been, but I was already getting carried away, I didn’t want to make it worse. So anyway, I called myself out in this fic and yes, my praise kink still lives on to this day.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, thigh riding, praise kink and excessive kisses.

- - -

Bright lights flashed across her eyes, blinding her in shades of blue, red and green, but nothing could distract her from what, or rather who she was looking at.

The club was jam-packed, sweaty bodies grinding with each other and bumping into one another as drunken people pushed past the crowds to make their way to the dance floor or the bar.

The whole place was full of aliens of all kinds, some more human-like than others, all of them enjoying themselves at the never ending party the club hosted.

The music invaded The Master’s ears, the lyrics becoming blurred as she zoned out and sipped on her drink. She was completely transfixed, her eyes never moving for even a second, barely blinking. She watched as you danced in her line of vision, swaying your hips in smooth circles, your body moving in such a compelling way, it was hypnotising.

She finished her drink and blindly put the glass on the table to the side of her, just missing the edge of it. She stood, her long legs already taking her in the direction of where you were.

You held your messy hair out of the way, strands of it sticking to your sweaty face. Your eyes were closed and a big smile adorned your face, pure happiness radiating from you as you moved under the lights, dancing alone and seemingly without a care in the world.

You opened your eyes just as The Master reached you and your smile became even brighter, taking her hand and pulling her in close. Your midsections pressed together, her hips swaying and grinding against yours.

“Darling.” The timelord greeted with a sly smile, her hands falling to your hips and holding you as close as possible.

You rested your head against The Master’s shoulder, your arms coming up to snake around her neck. A light floral smell of perfume invaded The Master’s nose and it made it hard to concentrate on anything else, now that all of her senses were bombarded by you.

“Master,” The music was loud around you, but she heard perfectly, every part of her focused on nothing but you. “What are you doing here?”

“Aren’t I allowed to have fun, too?”

The Master and yourself had history, a long history. You’d dated for a while, your relationship blazing and hurried, your days spent tangled in the sheets with her, the whole thing burning brightly so quickly, but burning out just as quick.

Your once romantic relationship turned to arguing almost daily, the bond turning sour and toxic. No one could ever say what you had wasn’t passionate. Even in your last few days together lust burned in your eyes, your voices raised, every emotion on high frequency. Passionate was the perfect word for your relationship.

Your eyes slipped closed at the feeling of the fingernails digging into your sides, the pain barely noticeable over the spine tingling feeling that came with it. “You came here to dance?”

“Actually, I came here to drink,” The Master shrugged. “But now that I have you here…”

The sharp point of a small dagger was pressed to your side, The Master’s free hand snaking around to the small of your back to keep you still. She applied only the pressure needed to make you aware that she wasn’t playing games, her eyes holding yours as you lifted your head to look at her.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“You don’t need to use that on me. You know that.” You shook your head, your smile returning. “Tell me what you need, I’ll do it.”

Neither of you spoke for a minute, your bodies still swaying together, holding onto each other even tighter than before. You carefully placed your hand on top of hers that was holding the knife and moved it away from you, forcing it back down to her side, indicating to put it away.

The Master rested her forehead against yours, a smirk pulling at her red painted lips. “Such a good girl.”

Your stomach fluttered at the praise, your heart skipping a beat. The Master knew your weakness for praise, your eagerness to please too good not to exploit.

She leaned down and pressed her lips against yours in a barely there kiss, fleeting and ending all too soon. With eyes closed, you blindly chased her kiss, reaching on tiptoes as she stood upright again in her heels, slipping the weapon back into her pocket.

She stroked the side of your face with her thumb, her palm holding your jaw with a grip that kept you from pursuing her any further. She laughed lightly, watching as you frowned. “Always so needy.”

The whine that escaped you didn’t go unnoticed, The Master’s brow quirking in response. “Don’t tease me, Master. Please.”

“Would I ever?” You knew not to answer, despite the answer being yes, yes she would indeed.

She led you over to the dimly lit seating area in the corner of the club, growling move at the couple sitting there. The Master was well known throughout the universe and therefore when she demanded something of someone, they complied or faced the consequences.

The less human-like alien couple scrambled from their seats and moved elsewhere to continue their conversation. She gently pushed you towards the couch in the back, watching as the backs of your knees hit the edge and you fell into a sitting position.

She leant over you and crawled between your legs as you settled against the back of the couch corner, her knee just below the hem of the short dress you were sporting.

“What are you doing?” You swallowed, your eyes following her face that was closing in on yours.

“Do you want me to stop?” She spoke against your cheek, her lips softly brushing your skin.

You shook your head no, your hands pulling her closer by her shoulders. She moved her head, tracing her lips along your jaw painfully slow, placing a lingering kiss just below your ear.

“Good girl.” With her ear near your mouth, she heard the moan that rumbled through you as your head fell back in submission. “Oh love, that’s my favourite sound.”

She kissed downwards, across your jaw to your throat. She allowed her tongue to dance across your skin with each open mouthed kiss, warm and wet where your pulse throbbed.

She moved lower, bringing her slow kisses to your collarbones, focusing in the sensitive hollow and the dip at the bottom of your throat, chuckling when you swallowed harshly.

She was in no rush, brushing the tip of her nose up the length of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent, and nudging your chin back when she reached the top. Her long fingers encircled your neck, squeezing ever so slightly to bring you back to your senses and gasp in a deep breath.

“Say it,” she mumbled, her forehead leaning on yours, eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

You knew exactly what she wanted to hear, she’d made you say it plenty of times before. At this point, it was second nature. “Master, I need you.”

Her grip tightened on your throat as she groaned, her eyes falling closed and her lips connecting with yours finally after so long of waiting, she grabbed your face in a strong hold that kept you in place.

She placed one hand by your head to keep herself steady and the other snaked around your waist, pulling you up to press your body against hers, your hips rolling on their own accord.

The beat of the song playing around you thrummed in your ears, the vibration of the base felt through the couch, adding to your trembling. You could hardly concentrate on anything else, The Master’s soft and enticing kiss pulling you deeper and deeper into her, your mind going blank.

She broke away from you to allow air to refill your lungs, moving back to your jaw and neck in the meantime, eliciting a whimper when she sucked lightly on the sensitive skin.

“Good girl.”

You could’ve melted into the couch beneath you, your muscles giving out and your bones failing to hold you up properly, something that made The Master laugh smugly, the hand that held your throat now moving up to hold your jaw and forcing you to look at her.

“You like that, don’t you?” Her hand from beside your head found its way to your thigh, sliding up so slow you could’ve screamed. The hand slipped under your dress, reaching higher in search of the thin fabric that covered your modesty.

You nodded, your breath coming in pants, your face flushed and your eyes darting between her hazel ones, now darker in appearance under the dim light of the smoky room.

“I want you to show me how much of a good girl you are.” She smirked, placing one more simple kiss to your swollen lips before she retreated completely, sitting up.

You followed without thought, desperate to remain close to her and the heat that radiated from her body. She sat back in her seat and allowed you to straddle her thighs, holding your waist to sit you down in her lap.

She pulled you forward by the hips and then pushed you back again, the friction between her thigh and your damp fabric covered heat sent a shock of electricity through you, your body falling forward slightly in response.

You gasped as she repeated her movements, your hands gripping the back of the couch either side of her head, your knuckles turning a lighter shade.

“Move, darling.” She brought you forward with her fingers holding your chin, bringing your lips back to hers. Her kiss was searing, hot and wet, and fast. “Ride it.”

You did as you were told, continuing the movements of your hips on your own, the sparks of electricity shooting through you at a rate you could hardly keep up with, your thighs aching with the unfamiliar movement. You gave little to no thought to the people who could be watching you, too caught up in the moment The Master had created.

The Master carried on with her praises, knowing they made you weaker each time she uttered them in your ear.

“Keep going, love. You’re doing great.”

“Does that feel good? Such a good girl, doing as your Master says.”

“My sweet girl. Go slower, I want to watch this for as long as possible.”

“That’s it. Just like that.”

You bit your lip as hard as your skin would allow without splitting, your head thrown back as you rode The Master’s thigh, going slow like she had ordered, feeling the heavy heat in your stomach burn hotter and hotter.

In your blissfully heightened state, your eyes squeezed closed, you missed the timelord take a glance behind you at someone, a satisfied smirk on her lips, her brow raised playfully.

“Master.” Your voice, your warning, came as a whisper, but she heard you as clearly as if you’d shouted in a quiet and empty room.

She held the back of your neck as she brought your head to rest on her shoulder, your movements becoming sloppy and desperate. She kissed along your jaw, mumbling encouragement into your ear and you moaned uncontrollably into hers.

“Good girl.”

That was the final straw, shockwaves crashing through you like lightning had directly hit you, your body slumped into The Master’s as you convulsed. She held you close, stroking your hair and remained quiet, giving you the time you needed to compose yourself.

She pulled you into another scorching kiss, her tongue sliding across your bottom lip, demanding to enter. Her hand was back on your face, cradling it gently, her kiss moving into a passion you’d never seen from the timelord and momentarily you wondered if this meant you’d have to go again.

“You look so pretty like this,” The Master pulled herself away, keeping her face a breaths distance from yours. “Pink cheeks, lips swollen, eyes watery, your body shaking. I could admire you like this forever.”

You groaned in embarrassment, hiding your face in the crook of her neck, your warm breath against her throat sending shivers down her spine.”So what was it you needed me to do? Earlier, I mean.”

“You just did it.” She laughed loudly, stroking up and down your back. “Come on, we’re going to my TARDIS.”

You lifted your head suddenly, your mind swimming at the speed. “We are?”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?”

You bit your lip, a wave of excitement and anticipation washing over you. “No, Master.”

She smiled and pulled you up from the seat, pushing past crowds towards the time ship that she had disguised as a supply cupboard, your hand tightly held in hers.

“I’ve missed you.” She pushed your back against the door, her leg falling between yours and brushing against you, another wave of sparks flooding through you. “You came here alone, right?”

You nodded immediately, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt and pulling her into yet another heated kiss, frenzied and determined to continue feeling like a human firework under The Master’s talented hands.

“Good girl.”

From the other side of the club, The Doctor stood, the drink you had sent him to get previously in his hand. Between dancing aliens, he stood frozen and dumbfounded, having watched the whole ordeal with The Master, mixed emotions filling him to the brim.

He watched as you entered the TARDIS that wasn’t his without so much as one thought for leaving him behind. The supply cupboard disappeared without anyone noticing and with that, The Doctor’s stomach plummeted, his chest tightening.

Taglist: @another-doctor-who-blog @queerconfusionthings

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 4

Thomas X Reader

2306

Summary: Flashbacks and First days.

By: @adventuresintooblivion

[ Nine months before Somme]

“Why are all of the songs you sing happy?” he asked, mouth half full of slimy porridge.

Y/N glanced up from her rations, “What do you mean?”

Thomas shrugged, “You always sing about fighting or beating the odds no matter how bad it seems. Or about how angry everyone is about the war. Why don’t you ever sing anything that’s sad?”

She put her spork down, “You want me to sing a sad song during war?”

He didn’t answer right away, only shoveled a couple more mouthfuls down his gullet. After a swig of stale water he continued.

“I dunno. I feel like we should be allowed to be sad sometimes. Singing all these happy songs feels like we’re pretending that all the bullshit we see everyday isn’t real. Like we didn’t just watch several men lose their legs or that artillery didn’t just rip a man in half.”

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Thomas, I love you, but dear God man I’m eating.”

His heart skipped a beat. This was something he wished more than anything was real. That went beyond the comradery of soldiers. Yet, he schooled his features into something more neutral. Despite the fact that he craved to hear the words again but it was their spontaneity that was precious to him. 

Thomas was barely able to scramble together a reply, “I just want to feel again.” He blinked, not exactly sure where the admission had come from. Though he couldn’t take it back now.

Over the next few days he’d catch her humming a melody he didn’t recognize. Some parts she would work over again and again. Others would be there and gone, carried away on the breeze. When she sang it to them for the first time it was after a rough day. 

They had lost a handful of people to a tunnel collapse in the northeastern sector and all the hard work they’d done over the past six months was completely scrapped. One of the members of that team had been the youngest in their company. He had a fiance with a baby on the way even if he couldn’t yet grow a full beard.

She’d been perched on a piece of rubble that had fallen from a church. Her voice was clear and perfect as crystal. The song was about a soldier going home to find his wife bleeding on the floor. She’d ended her life to be with him after receiving a call that incorrectly informed her that his company had been massacred. 

The men of the 174th wept that night the hardest they had since the war began. All the pent up rage and fear leaking out onto their pillows in the dead of night. For those who couldn’t be silent, they wept with their heads held between their hands in an attempt to muffle the noise. It was the army though and no one ever questioned crying men.

Thomas hadn’t cried. He was more angry about the deaths and couldn’t quite settle down enough to listen to the words. It wasn’t until she’d sung it a second time it had unraveled him. She’d changed the ending. The first time the wife wasn’t saved and the soldier had to move on without her. This time, they lived into their greying years with the knowledge that life was unbearable without the other.

“Why is it the ‘happy’ ending?” she asked him once.

Thomas shrugged, his eyes still swollen. It was one of the few times they were alone and she’d sung it for him. He didn’t mind being the only audience but it had made the unexpected turn in lyrics all the more powerful for him. 

Thomas’ voice cracked as he spoke, “Don’t ever sing that in front of Hopper.” He elaborated when she raised her eyebrow, “If you sing a single note of that in front of him he’ll figure out you’re a woman.”

Y/N froze, “How did you know?”

He smirked, “You never bathe with the other men. Your uniform is always too big. You’re almost a head shorter, to the point I’m surprised no one has said anything. And your face does the thing”

“What thing?”

“That soft thing that everyone thinks is cute.”

He swore he imagined it but her cheeks turned a light pink, “Did you just call me cute Shelby?”

He shrugged, “Just keep the singing away from Hopper.”

〜

[Present Day]

Y/N awoke the next morning to the raucous laughter of dozens of men floating up the stairs. With a bewildered groan she checked the small window to her room to find that it was at least past noon at this point. On Saturday.

She cursed to herself as she quickly dressed in trousers. Her leg almost didn’t lift high enough to get inside without pain shooting up her back. With an audible growl she shoved her limp foot through the hole and grabbed her violin case. A passing glance in the mirror told her that her hair was wildly out of control, but if the singing had already started it was too late to fix it now.

Y/N practically hopped down the stairs on one leg. Twinges still assaulted her with every step, but it was better than just hobbling around on a bum leg. Which she’d have to do anyway on level ground.

Upon descending into the bar, she was confronted not by the milling groups she’d seen at lunch time the previous day but a completely packed room. Fully grown men were pressed shoulder to shoulder all staring up towards the front of the bar. A woman’s voice lulled over some lyrics Y/N recognized as a folk song that had become popular again after the war. Nostalgia always popped up in weird places.

With some luck, and her short stature, Y/N squeezed her way close enough to the bar that she had enough elbow room to play. Standing in front of the bar was the woman she’d seen at the opera...and the restaurant. Once she was done with her current song she waved to grab her attention.

Grace’s eyes practically bulged out of her head when she noticed Y/N, “Uh..Y...Yes? Can I help you?”

“Oh, this is weird,” she mumbled to herself. Speaking louder to be heard over the crowd, she lifted her violin case, “Thomas told me I was supposed to help you out on Saturdays. What would you like me to do?”

Grace’s eye’s cast about wildly. “Did he hire you?”

“In a way. Did you need help or…?”

“Yes. Yes. Set up over at that end of the bar. Do you know Black Velvet Band?”

Y/N nodded as she moved. “I know most of the popular songs. But if I don’t know something I can usually figure it out after the first verse as long as it’s nothing weird.”

For the next several hours, they entertained the patrons of the Garrison Pub. Grace could usually sing several songs in a row, but eventually she needed a break and that’s when Y/N would go from a supporting role to the main role. After Grace had rested and filled orders, she would once again relinquish center stage.

The patrons were eating it up, and at one point Y/N had caught sight of Jerimiah. She waved in a small pause in the music and damn near killed the man. He had turned ashen when he’d registered who she was and had begun to sway only to be caught by Danny, who’d stopped by after an errand. 

He’d quickly left, returning a couple hours later with almost the half the platoon they’d served with. The bar, already almost at max capacity, was now so overflowing with people that the party had begun to spill onto the streets. Someone had gone home and grabbed a portable skillet and had offered to cook anything people brought him. Soon the smell of grilled meats wafted through the slums of Birmingham. And the Garrison Pub was serving every single one of those thirsty people.

At some point a couple of men had constructed a makeshift stage for the women to perform on and had urged them outside. Now the dancing had started as women came to find their husbands up to their ears in drink and food. Children ran amok, mimicking some of the dances with others finding whatever they could to play with as music brought this part of the city to life.

It wasn’t until the sun had begun to set that someone caught sight of Thomas Shelby and his family approaching the Pub. Word spread quickly, and most continued their revelry even if it was subdued. Finally, Thomas made it to the foot of the stage. Everyone waited with baited breath to hear what the gang leader had to say.

“So, allow you two to play music for one day, and it becomes a feast?”

Y/N finally put down her violin after hours of playing. Her back practically screamed at her to sit down, but this was the first time she’d played to a crowd like this in years. She’d missed it.

So she did what she always did. “That’s what you get for sticking us both up here. Hell, between the two of us I’m pretty sure we could play so well the pearly gates themselves would open for us.”

“After all the shit you’ve pulled?” He raised his eyebrow skeptically. A soft murmur went through the crowd as people shared confused glances. She knew Thomas.

Y/N couldn’t help but grin, “Oh, they couldn’t bear not to have us play for the angels themselves. But here we are instead playing for these hard working men and women, and I think we’ve done a good job filling their hearts with hope again.”

He chuckled, “Fine. Just make sure the Garrison stays busy.”

“As you wish.” Y/N shrugged, her arms complaining as she lifted her violin once again.

Grace stared at her new companion with unveiled wonder, “He lets you talk to him like that?”

Y/N flashed Grace with one of her signature wicked smiles, “We were army buddies.”

“But they don’t allow women to fight.”

“Eh, who says they had to know?”

Grace’s mouth fell open as Y/N started up another song, one that Grace didn’t recognize. But the entirety of the 174th sent up cheers, their glasses raised. 

It was a fast paced one that made it hard to sit still. Y/N braced herself before she began to dance on the small stage, tapping her feet in time with the beat as the 174th began to sing. Their voices rose over the general din. There wasn’t much melody in it, but those men sang from somewhere buried deep inside. It was as if the hope that had carried them through the worst days of hell sprang to life to answer the call of music.

At the edge of the crowd in the shroud of darkness, the barest outline of Thomas Shelby could be seen. Even if he didn’t scream the lyrics along with his brothers in arms, he still sang. It was then that Grace understood why Thomas had been so adamant about there being no music in his pub.

If Grace wanted to truly understand Thomas Shelby she’d have to learn about him not as the gang leader, but as the man who survived the worst part of human history. Who was he before and what had happened with this woman that had changed his life forever? It was a way out, another option that didn’t rely on giving herself to the enemy. Holding onto that hope, Grace closed her eyes and tried to decipher the jumbled lyrics.

〜

Finally the Garrison Pub closed. Grace sat slumped against a table as Harry mopped the floor. Y/N curled up on one of the few benches in the corner. After everything was well and tidied up, Grace got up to leave.

“You coming?” she asked.

Y/N shook her head, “Actually I’m staying upstairs.”

Grace’s brow furrowed, “But...why? I mean your dress was lovely, and you were playing in one of the most expensive places in town. Can’t you afford a better place?”

“This suits me just fine. Besides, you of all people should know that a pretty dress is just a costume; at the end of the day it doesn’t mean nothing.”

Grace froze, “What do you mean?”

Y/N fixed Grace with a tired gaze, “It’s just how it’s always been. You may love rolling around in the dirt, but a bath and pretty dress later no one would ever know.”

She let out a deep sigh of relief but just as she was about to leave Y/N stopped her once more, “Hey, since you’ve been in town longer do you know any good music halls? Operas? Theatres? I’m looking for work that isn’t just on Saturdays”

“Oh, I can’t stand Opera so I wouldn’t know about that. But I think there’s a new place opening up on the other side of the river.” Grace waved dismissively then shut and locked the door behind her.

Y/N slowly stood and finally let herself limp over to the bar and poured herself a drink. She mulled over the possibilities of why the hell Grace was at the opera if she hated it and wasn’t dragged there by family. So far none of the possibilities looked good and it was getting to the point she’d have to tell somebody. 

The wad of money Thomas had shoved at her still burned a hole in her pocket; she hadn’t gotten a chance to return it today. A goal for tomorrow then.

[jaskiersvalley]

My good writer, I love everything you have written!!!👌👌👌 I just spent the past day reading the entirety of your blog and could not be more happier!!! Your writing is so good and great and amazing and spectacular!!! Thank you for making these stories that have captivated many, I'm just wowza my friend, I can barely contain all my emotions writing this I feel ive just made myself come off as awkward but uh *throws fingers guns* you got this bro keep doing what your doing it's great👍👍👍💞💕❤💖

I died at the finger guns, it has been too long since someone has done that to me, thank you! If you ever want to be awkward together, my DMs are always open for a chat :D Just bring more finger guns.

And, as it has become tradition it seems, a little ficlet of thanks for your kindness in reaching out and making me smile so much brighter with your words.

For a bard, Jaskier was really rather dumb. At least, that was Yennefer’s assessment as she watched from the door of the tavern. For months now, she’s seen Geralt mooning over him, trying his witcher-y best at emotions. Alas, it was all for naught and more often than not, he ended up sulking into a tankard of ale while his bard smiled and flirted with someone else.

The only problem was, while Geralt only saw his failures, Yennefer saw the other side of the pining too. There were longing looks, lines that Jaskier sang with his eyes fixed only on Geralt.

“Just use your words,” Yennefer nagged at Geralt as she sat next to him. Together, they watched Jaskier sing. Yennefer’s eyes were fixed on his fingers dancing over his lute, Geralt’s were following the sway of his hips. If he kept staring somewhere other than his face, no wonder he missed the longing looks sent his way. In fact, if he stared like that, it wasn’t surprising Jaskier was convinced Geralt glared at his crotch in the hopes of manifesting a new witcher trait and setting his trousers on fire with gaze alone.

“I tried.” The words were gruff and tinged with sadness. “He doesn’t want me. Not when he can wax lyrical about a village hunchback, make them sound like the most beautiful creation on earth. But when it comes to me...”

He doesn’t bother finishing his sentence. It was worse than flogging a dead horse. Sure, Jaskier could sing his praises in sing but he needed to if they wanted any coin. It was a matter of gritting his teeth and lying about Geralt to make ends meet.

Everyone had a breaking point and Yennefer had reached hers. As funny as it had been, watching to idiots be convinced they were both pining from afar, there were limits.

“Right.” She stood up and marched up to Jaskier, who had thankfully just finished a song so it was fine to interrupt. “You like Geralt, yes?”

“Well-”

“Yes or no? Do you want more than a friendship or just a fuck?” Yennefer wasn’t in the mood to beat around the bush and she watched as Jaskier’s lips turned down unhappily.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, describe his hair.”

Confused, Jaskier glanced at Geralt who was staring into his ale with a grimace. “It’s like freshly fallen ash, a soft cascade of mercury that glistens in starlight. The gentle light of the moon has nothing on it when it’s freshly brushed.” He sighed wistfully. “To have the privilege of washing it, tangle my fingers in it is a greater pleasure than the finest whores of Cintra could bring.”

“Good.” Yennefer nodded. “Now describe my eyes.”

This was getting ridiculous but Jaskier wasn’t in the mood to defy the wishes of a powerful sorceress. Dutifully, he looked at her and did as asked. “They’re like the dewy glisten of nightshade on a shimmering summer morning.”

Before he could carry on, Yennefer was grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him towards Geralt. Stopping in front of him, she made her next demand. “Describe his eyes.”

After a long silence, Jaskier licked his lips and looked at Yennefer with worry. Of all the things to ask, this was just cruel. However, the hand around his wrist tightened and he hastily obeyed.

“They’re yellow.” Dumbfounded, Yennefer looked at him while Geralt just looked resigned, used to such lack of eloquence from Jaskier. He could see the the way Jaskier’s nose creased, lips curving awkwardly around words. “Like the egg yolk I had for breakfast. Sprinkled with pepper.”

Disasters, that’s what these two were. Yennefer despaired and all but threw Jaskier’s wrist from her grip. “And his hair?”

“White and grey? My family once had an elderly ass whose chin was the same colour when he went grey.”

What the hell happened to cascades of mercury in starlight?! All at once Yennefer understood why Geralt was so despondent and Jaskier was a lovesick fool - the emphasis being on fool.

“Right. Well, your egg yolk eyed ass has been moping for months because you don’t seem to want him. And you’ve been pining through songs from a distance for just as long. This farce has gone on long enough. You either sort your shit out here and now or I’m locking you both in the cellar until you work this mess out.”

Wide eyed the two twits stared at each other and Yennefer gave Jaskier a gentle shove so he’d sit down in the seat she had just vacated.

“So...” There was always a first time for everything and it seemed it was the perfect time for Jaskier to be speechless. To which Geralt replied with his usual silence and stare. “You don’t stare at me in the hopes I’d catch fire?”

It was painfully awkward and Yennefer wanted to scream. Instead she turned to the bar,determined to get herself a stiff drink. By the time she turned back towards the corner, Geralt was all but straddling Jaskier’s lap and kissing him. Slamming back her shot, Yennefer turned to order another. After downing that too, she turned to go tell the other two to get a room. Except the corner was already empty. Thank fuck for that.

[alwaysmychoices]

In the Dark

Synopsis: Drunk and dancing in a dark club, Charlie can only think of Ethan Ramsey...

(separate from my With and Without series)

words: 2k

Based on this ask from this prompt list. The prompt (Because ours are the moments I play in the dark) is in bold. Feel free to keep asking from that list!

Also, I didn’t tag anyone because I wasn’t sure if people in my tag list wanted to be notified just for With or Without or all of my fics. I will be going through the list soon to ask!

The bass pounded, shaking the floor of the nightclub and rattling eardrums as it intoxicated every club-goer just as strongly as the flowing drinks, and Charlie jumped along to the beat. She was five-drinks deep, spilling her sixth as she swayed to the song, and she screamed lyrics she hardly remembered when sober. Everything was painted in a distorting golden hue, casting the world in a warm blanket of newness and exhilaration. She held out her hand for Kyra, who clutched it wildly as they locked eyes to yell the chorus.

Only a few hours ago, Charlie hadn’t known about this band or the show, nor had she any intentions to leave her apartment this weekend. Kyra was the one with the extra ticket, and from the comfort of Charlie’s bedroom, she’d played every song they’d ever made while they got ready together.

Dancing and singing with her best friend, Charlie felt like she was making a sacred memory, and in the haze, everything felt perfect. It was magical and beautiful and fun, and Charlie could have stayed like that for the rest of the night.

Kyra released her friend’s hand, screaming something over the crowd about buying another round of drinks. Though Charlie only got the gist of it, she waved her on supportively, adding, “BUY ME A MOJITO!”

Kyra hardly heard her but blew her a playful kiss goodbye as she moved through the crowd to find Bryce at the bar. Now alone, Charlie moved up, peeking over the mass of people in front of her to see the musician belt a final, powerful note.

“Is everyone having fun tonight?” Raleigh Carrera asked the crowd, and it roared in response. He devilishly grinned, “That’s what I like to hear! For the next one, you’re gonna wanna grab someone special. Remember to thank me if you get lucky tonight!” Raleigh smirked, stepping back on the stage as the next song began.

It was quieter than the last but no less intoxicating. The bass-heavy, invigorating beat was replaced with a smooth, seductive tempo that left Charlie dazed. Drunk and captivated with the night, Charlie felt as if she could feel this song, like her entire body was wired to be entranced with the melody. She felt more aware of herself than she had all night, yet she was disconnected from the rest of the world. She felt the thud of her heartbeat and the sweat on her skin, and there was something instinctive about her sway and movement to the rhythm.

There were hands on her hips now, and Charlie melted into them.

The man who now held her was cool against her burning skin, and she felt drawn to him, like she was tied to him if just for the rest of the song. She could smell his cologne over the alcohol and sweat of the nightclub, and she leaned back into him, drinking it in. As he pulled her into him, she felt a pang of desire as she landed against the strong, broad plains of his abdomen.

Her eyes fluttering closed, she could only hear the song and feel this man.

And in that haze, Charlie saw Ethan Ramsey.

She felt his hands on hers in the car, squeezing as he said goodnight. She felt her shoulder brush his as they crowded into small elevators and their hands accidentally meet as they reached for the same file. She felt the less innocent, more intent caress in his bed – his hands on her thighs, her hips, her waist, her breasts…

She experienced the warmth of his smile and the rush of heat when he gave her that smirk.

The man from the club was still touching her, but Charlie could only see Ethan.

She fled to the memories of shared laughter and tangled bedsheets. They were unbearably rare, yet she held onto what she had, twisting them into magnificence. Every time she thought of them, the smiles were a little wider and her heart was a little warmer.

She imagined it was really him, that he was here with her.

Ethan would hate the music, but he would stay for her. He wouldn’t scream the lyrics with her like Kyra, but he would smile watching. He would have his arms around her waist, moving gently to the music as he savored having her near. He would make sure she left safely, and he would put her to bed with a glass of water and a kiss, even if he would laugh at her hangover in the morning.

It was perfect.

The man was spinning her around, and with her eyes closed, she could still feel Ethan beside her. The man was taller than her, less tall than Ethan but close enough that Charlie could still reach up and tangle her hands in his hair. The man’s hands roamed up her back, cementing her to his chest as his lips brushed across hers. His stubble tickled her skin, just like Ethan’s had.

And just wanting one last kiss from Ethan, she leaned into the man and kissed him.

But he didn’t taste right.

Charlie opened her eyes, and the perfect image was shattered. He wasn’t Ethan.

He was younger, shorter, and much hipper than Ethan was. He didn’t look at Charlie like Ethan did, nor did his seductive smirk make her heart flutter like Ethan’s would.

Charlie was suddenly disgusted and heartbroken, and she stepped back, gasping for air as the mirage slipped through her fingers. It had never been Ethan. It had always been this man, this imposter.

She couldn’t stand to look at him, nor to stand in this spot where she’d conjured bliss. As his hands reached out to pull her close again, she stepped farther back in a huff. She charged through the crowds, suddenly overwhelmed by the sound and the people and the dim light. She bumped into people as she went, earning complaints.

She needed to escape. She wanted to go back to her mental paradise, but it was too far gone.

Charlie spotted Kyra near the bar, and she quickly approached her, though she was unsure what to say. Should she beg to leave? Should she try to explain the situation over the loud music and horny couples?

“I GOT YOUR MOJITO!” Kyra screamed as she saw Charlie, shoving the glass in her friend’s direction, and Charlie didn’t accept it. Kyra’s smile faltered as she appraised her. Something had visibly changed, and concerned, Kyra moved in closer, yelling in Charlie’s ear, “Are you okay?”

No, she thought.

But Charlie couldn’t will herself to admit that, so she screamed back, “I’m just going to the bathroom! I’ll text you to find you!”

Kyra gave her a wary glance, “Want me to go with you?”

“No, no, I’m fine!” Charlie assured her, desperate for Kyra to not accompany her. She needed to escape, to breathe. She needed to ground herself in reality because she could no longer hide in fantasy.

Kyra gave her one last questioning look before accepting her decision and returning to the crowd, Bryce still lagging behind as he flirted with the bartender to get a discount on a round of shots. Charlie only hoped that Kyra picked a new spot farther away from that man, and at the mere thought of him, she pushed herself further away through the concertgoers. She found the bathroom line in the back, but it was overrun with drunk, desperate girls asking if the person ahead really needed to go.

Instantly claustrophobic, Charlie left the bathroom line and went to the front door instead. She held out her hand to the bouncer, allowing him to stamp her hand so that she could return, and as soon as he was done, she rushed to freedom.

The night air was sobering and cold against her sweaty skin, and she greedily gulped it. Downtown Boston was electric and full of young people milling around her, but compared to the packed nightclub, the sidewalk was a haven.

Charlie ducked out of the way of an oncoming couple, leaning against the cool concrete wall of the bar. She stared into the sky, looking for stars, but they were obscured by the city lights. Instead, she closed her eyes and took three calming, deep breaths. The world finally stopped spinning, and for a moment, she found clarity.

In the dark, she could see him again.

She could see Ethan.

He wasn’t holding her or whispering sweet nothings, but she could see him nonetheless. She was acutely aware of his absence beside her as the memories flooded her. Tender kisses, longing stares, and ill-fated attempts to stay away formed a tapestry of their relationship. She wasn’t supposed to want him, but she did.

Why can’t you let me go? the Ethan in her mind asked, a question that the real Ethan had never said but likely thought. Every time they fell together, he seemed just as shocked that she wanted him, too.

“Because ours are the moments I play in the dark,” she whispered to him, shutting her eyes so tight that she saw stars. She wanted to hold on so, so hard, but the memories grew hazy. Tears welled behind her eyelids until the weight of them forced her eyes open.

And she was back in the light, and he was gone.

Charlie wiped at her eyes, trying to preserve something that was out of reach. Her dignity had been taken the moment she pretended to kiss Ethan as another man held her, but she liked to maintain the illusion of it. She felt like she still had power over herself, like she wouldn’t run back to her star-crossed lover the moment she missed him.

But it was all an illusion, wasn’t it?

Charlie took out her phone, instinctively opening his contact. The picture was of him frowning in his office, surrounded by studies during a late-night research session. His glasses were skewed, and his hair rustled from his anxious habit of raking his fingers through his hair while reading. It was a tender and intimate image, and she stared at it until it turned blurry, lost in the memory.  

When she opened the text message, she had to take extra care while typing, still inebriated and overwhelmed.

Charlie : are you up?

As Charlie pressed send, she leaned back to the concrete wall, settling herself with deep breaths.

He doesn’t have to answer, she thought, He shouldn’t answer.

Charlie began to prepare herself to return to the bar. Right now, she couldn’t stomach leaving the peaceful night air to dive back into the cramped crowd, just to dance like nothing was wrong. But she needed to. She needed to stop letting Ethan control her life.

Then, her phone buzzed.

Because, miles away, Ethan had been staring into the dark and thinking of her…

Ethan : yes.

Charlie appraised the text for several seconds, knowing that she shouldn’t respond.

But, she typed out, Charlie: I’m downtown.

Ethan : do you need a ride home?

Charlie considered his offer.

She could have a few minutes alone with him, sharing a car ride back to her apartment. She could feel his warmth and watch his brow furrow in concern as he asked why she’d been so reckless as to get drunk without a secure ride home.

But she wanted more than that. She wanted more of him.  

Charlie : no.

A moment passed.

Charlie : but I could be at your apartment in twenty minutes.

Ethan is typing…

Charlie watched the screen until the three words disappeared without a message, and she felt her heart crack. She gripped her phone tighter, tempted to chuck it into the busy street to never have to look at the text thread again.

What had she been thinking?

And how… how could he say no?

Or rather, how could he say nothing at all? She began to wonder if all of this epic love story was merely one-sided. Was she just the naïve resident in love with an attending who didn’t share the sentiment? She was crying again, but these tears were angrier, more frustrated. She began to dream about the mojito Kyra was saving for her. She imagined drinking it – and maybe a few more – just to forget Ethan for a few more hours.

Ding.

Ethan : send your location, and I’ll send a car.

And just like that, she wasn’t angry at him.

Charlie sent her location and typed a message to Kyra explaining her absence, and once the car arrived, she climbed in buzzing with adrenaline and confidence that she’d made the right choice, even if she knew it was wrong.

Because tonight, she got to be with Ethan.

And she got to form a new memory she could play in the dark…

@choicesficwriterscreations