#Confirm Train Ticket

[shaktiknowledgeblog]

Confirm Train Ticket | train ticket | train ticket booking | irctc train ticket | Holi 2023 | Rail ticket booking | business news

Have gone home in Holi, and have thought of coming how to get the ticket? This App is giving a 100% Confirm Train Ticket! Confirm Train Ticket: IRCTC has launched a new app called Confirm tatkal for Tatkal ticket booking. Through this, you can easily get the details of seats available under Tatkal quota for Today, Tomorrow and the Day After in trains running on any route and book them. IRCTC…

[girlivealwaysbean]

what is wrong with my dad i hope he dies man wtf😭

[dykes4timrand]

amtrak why did you send me a text that my boarding track was changed to track 21 i’ve been on the train for like 30 minutes 😭😭

[needtricks-blog]

IRCTC New AI Service Book Train Tickets Just by Speaking!

IRCTC New AI Service Book Train Tickets Just by Speaking!. Indian Railway Catering and Tourism Corporation (IRCTC) has revolutionized train ticket booking with its latest innovative service. With the launch of its new AI-based chatbot, AskDisha 2.0, booking a train ticket is as simple as speaking a command. This cutting-edge service, powered by Artificial Intelligence (AI), Machine Learning (ML),…

[gyantechnolgy]

Now confirm tatkal ticket can be booked from mobile

[purrfectly]

[ganga-times]

Use These 7 Tricks To Get Confirm Train Ticket From Patna To Delhi

Getting a confirmed train ticket from Patna to Delhi is challenging every time after the festival. We share seven tricks for getting a confirm train ticket from Patna to Delhi after the festival. During the busy Diwali and Chhath Puja festivals, Indian Railways receives many train ticket bookings. To help people get confirmed tickets, they can use the Quick Tatkal app, which works with Railofy.…

[cherienymphe]

A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, blackmail, stalking, abuse of power, hints of dacryphilia, slightly spoiler-esque

summary: Birds are best kept in a cage where one can see them...and where you know where they are at all times.

~

You thought that it was over when you won.

That’s what winning The Hunger Games meant, right? The psychological torture, the grueling conditions, and the fear that wouldn’t leave you until you finally left the arena was supposed to be over. You made it out through blood, sweat, and tears, and so your reward was to go home and reunite with your family and try your best to put the memories behind you.

Try your best to put him behind you.

So, why were you still being tormented?

When you first locked eyes with Coriolanus Snow, your first thought was how strikingly blue his were. Almost as if they weren’t real and had been specially manufactured in The Capitol for him, somehow. His hair, too, was just so much blonder than anything you’d seen in District 12, and again, you noted how so much about him seemed…artificial.

…but then he spoke…and the effect his voice had on you was very real.

“You don’t seem like you’re supposed to be here,” you’d said to him after stepping off of that train.

His response was expected, a charming chuckle leaving his pink lips, blond curls the perfect addition to his features.

“I’m not,” he slowly admitted.

The intensity behind his gaze whenever he so much as glanced at you was enough to make any girl’s heart race, and despite what you wished, you weren’t immune. He was beautiful—gorgeous as some of the other tributes and mentors liked to call him—and despite the initial intimidation, there was something about him that made you want to let your guard down.

…but he was your mentor…and a capitol citizen…and you were nothing more than his ticket to notoriety.

“Don’t you know who his dad was?” another tribute, one from one of the better districts, had said to you in a tone like you were stupid.

That was all the confirmation you needed, really.

…but he’d hopped onto the truck with you and gotten into that cage with you and brought you and your district mate food. He gave you poison to use against the other tributes. He wanted you to appeal to the audience so he’d have the funds to send you supplies. It was hard to decipher what was purely for show and what was just because he wanted you—and him by extension—to win. Perhaps, they were one in the same though, and it was impossible to have one without the other. Maybe it didn’t matter his reasons behind his desire to have his tribute win.

Maybe all that mattered was that you’d win.

…but that was when you thought winning meant you’d be free.

Coriolanus Snow was your best chance at winning, and so when the rebels rigged the arena, you didn’t hesitate to stay behind and save him. It wasn’t even a question in your mind because mentor or not, he was hurt, and you had to believe that that one fluke was not your only fighting chance. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that in saving him, you’d allowed freedom to pass you by.

“You saved me,” he told you, a gentle brush of his handkerchief under your eye to catch your tears. “You saved me, and I am going to get you out of here.”

You had no idea then that he meant out of the games…and to him.

It was that flickering moment of doubt where you wondered if you could actually win, and you recalled what you’d said to him earlier about believing you could, how much you needed him to actually believe it. Now, you were the one doubting, and he could see it, blue gaze flicking over your face and soaking in the fear and uncertainty, because if you couldn’t win…

You’d die.

A lingering gaze and a tense atmosphere, and you felt yourself pulling back, realization hitting you as to just what you were about to let happen. It was hard to decipher who overstepped first, but you couldn’t allow yourself to get wrapped up in something that was only ever meant to be strictly professional. Coriolanus was your mentor, and you were his tribute.

That was all.

You didn’t know then the full lengths he went to just to ensure your victory. How could you? You were too busy trying to survive, trying to fight off rabid tributes and teenagers driven mad with the sole desire to just live. It was all so unfair and angering, and you were sure that with less focus, you might’ve gone insane too. You didn’t have the luxury to worry about your eerily handsome mentor and whatever ulterior motives he might’ve had to see you beat this thing.

So, when you did win, all you could feel was relief. All you could focus on was your family and their faces when you’d ultimately reunite with them. All you could even entertain were thoughts of pushing this very real nightmare to the back of your mind for as long as you possibly could. Initially, you didn’t even notice that you weren’t immediately reunited with your mentor when they crowned you as the winner and got you out of there.

At least, not until you came face to face with him in your own district.

“I thought they’d killed you. I didn’t know if my actions had come back on you too,” Coriolanus told you in a secluded corner, the loud music drowning out his words and the cover of darkness hiding your faces.

Those beautiful pale curls were gone, and any thought that so much of his beauty relied on his golden locks was gone too with one drink of him. He was still the same handsome boy that mentored you, the same one who’d garnered the nickname ‘gorgeous’ among the other tributes. Up on that stage, you’d been thrown to meet a familiar gaze, your harmonious tune pausing for half a second as he met your shocked stare with an expression of his own you couldn’t place, pink lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

Any question of how and why he was here had disappeared as you registered his words. Confusion filled you as you stared at him, a slight frown between your brows as you wracked your brain for how that could possibly make sense.

“Why would they kill me…?” you slowly asked him, and you and the shadows were all that was privy to his confession.

The water bottles, the handkerchief, and the snakes—even the poison. Coriolanus had cheated to secure your victory, broken rules that plucked him out of The Capitol and dropped him here in your very own district as a Peacekeeper. The shock you felt that your victory was far from a fair one warred with the confusion you felt as to why he’d risk everything just for you to win.

If you’d lost fair and square—as you probably should have—there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be safely tucked away in the lavishness of The Capitol instead of lingering about in some rundown excuse for a bar in lowly District 12. If he knew what awaited him should his treachery be discovered…then why chance it? Nothing about your brief tutelage with him could justify what he’d risked and ultimately lost.

You wanted to ask him why, but something in you was afraid of the answer.

That almost kiss—a kiss you hadn’t thought about in months—suddenly came to mind, and even though you didn’t ask him why, something in you knew why even if you wanted to deny it. It was there in the dim lighting and rowdy atmosphere of some rundown building that every minor interaction didn’t start to feel so minor.

Every brush of his hand against yours as he reached for you, the unsettling way he seemed to watch you in that short time that you’d simply written off as concern for his tribute, and the ruthless desire to see you out on the other side of the arena. The kiss that never was only seemed like a lapse in judgement to you then, but in this moment, you had suspicions that it was very much intentional.

You swallowed, realizing that in that brief internal introspection, Coriolanus hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

“Did they send you to District 12?” you finally asked him.

You didn’t know what gave you away. Perhaps your tone, maybe your face, or maybe your eyes weren’t as secretive as you’d like to believe. Either way, something about your visage and demeanor gave the blond man pause, head tilting just a tad as those baby blues glinted with something you didn’t recognize but you know you didn’t like. He studied your face before coming up with the answer he probably thought you wanted.

“Of course.”

You didn’t know if you believed him.

…and Coriolanus could tell.

You’d played enough cat and mouse games in the arena—you never thought you’d have to play them in your own home too.

Starving off the affections of some boy in your district wasn’t hard or uncharted territory. Even spurning the forbidden advances of a Peacekeeper or two wasn’t unheard of, but Coriolanus was different. He wasn’t some average Joe turned cop. He was born and raised in The Capitol with a powerful father, and even though the man had been taken before his time, your former mentor still had been brought up with the kind of influence and reach and mindset that surpassed the average Peacekeeper.

They were followers—controlled by The Capitol and tasked with maintaining order. Most were no more than dumb brutes, mindlessly following orders without question, simple enough to be bribed and swayed. If Coriolanus’ actions had shown you anything, it was that he was not a follower. He did what he wanted and played by his own rules, and it was how you found yourself hunted by a gaze you thought you’d left behind in the arena.

Since the discovery of your former mentor’s presence in your district, you never felt alone.

Every walk to trade for food felt shadowed, every footstep home was accompanied with an echo, and a sweep of your eye over the crowd as you played an instrument or sang a tune was rewarded with a familiar blue one that made your heart freeze. You were forced to ignore it no longer when a single rose was left for you on the doorstep, your ma’s gaze questioning as she held it out to you.

You didn’t know where or how he got it, but you only cared about giving it back.

“I can’t accept this,” you told him, gaze steady but fingers trembling as you held it out to him.

It was raining, and the cover over your heads sheltered you from the downpour, but it did little to drown out the sound of it. Coriolanus simply stared at the flower for what felt like too long, making no moves to take it from you, and you swallowed. His blue gaze zeroed in on the action before it lifted to your face.

“…and why not?”

“Because I think it means something different to you than it does to me.”

Your response was swift, and you watched him sigh, eventually reaching out to finger the flower like he did that day before he’d proceeded to put it behind your ear. He finally took it, and just like that day before the games, it found its way behind your ear once again. The only change this time was the shudder that traveled down your spine, and the apprehension you felt when his gaze met yours.

For the longest time, the only sound was that of the rain, a few stray drops making it’s way onto your face and clothes due to the wind. If the man before you still had the locks you’d met him with, they would’ve been rustling with the breeze, right now. Both of you were very still, or maybe it was just you—nervous and fearful of how he’d respond. He briefly looked past you, eyes glinting briefly before they hardened once again, his pink lips pressed together as he regarded you.

“…and if it does?”

He continued when you frowned.

“Mean something different to me than it does to you,” he elaborated, and you blinked.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I know…that I’m only standing here, now, because of you,” you slowly started, watching him push his shoulders back. “I won because of you, I know that, but-.”

“Exactly,” he cut you off, making your lips part. “You won because of me…and everything I sacrificed was to make sure you won.”

“…but I didn’t ask you to do that!”

You felt…cornered, somehow, because on the one hand, yes. You did owe so much to the man before you, but at the same time, what did you owe specifically? Your attention? Your affection? Whatever he deemed an appropriate compensation? When you saved his life in the arena that day, and he vowed to save yours in return, you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the deal you were agreeing to.

“I saved your life, and you saved mine, and I’m sorry for the things you felt the need to risk, but that’s where it ends.”

The cold from the rain didn’t faze you nearly as much as the heat from his gaze boring into your back.

You wanted to believe that your lack of confrontation was what led you to the predicament you found yourself in. After all, things between you two had held too many ‘what ifs’ and lingering feelings and questions. You liked to hope that telling the man in no uncertain terms that your relationship should never and would never progress beyond anything professional would fix things.

You never would’ve guessed that your bout of confidence would only prove to make things worse.

“My ma doesn’t even know any rebels, and you know that.”

You’d whispered the words so quietly, throat too choked up to speak any louder as you tearfully stared Coriolanus down, your words only intended for the two of you. Your back was pressed to the doorway as he stood before you, a foot or two of space between you as other Peacekeepers did their duty to search your house as thoroughly as possible. The reason you’d been given was suspicion of treason—to the shock of your ma—but both you and the handsome man before you knew the truth.

“One can never be too sure. It’s always those you least expect.”

His cool response only made you look away, a few tears escaping.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You won, you were free, so why did it still feel like you were in the game…except a much more dangerous one this time? You could feel his eyes on you as you watched man after man rifle through you and your ma’s things, your younger sister not home to witness this. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him take a step towards you—just one, but one was enough to make you flinch.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him though.

“Unbearable,” he quietly said. “…not able to be endured…or tolerated.”

You swallowed.

“Not to be confused with hard—requiring a great deal of endurance or effort.”

Another step towards you.

“To find something unbearable means that you quite literally cannot stomach it any longer. It forces a change to come, forces something to…give,” he whispered.

Your gaze was still focused ahead, but his words made you blink, made your heart sink, and you swore that he knew that.

“I can make things incredibly unbearable for you…and your family.”

You straightened at that, finally looking at him with a venomous gaze and a heaving chest. Coriolanus reached up to pick at your shirt, removing a piece of grass from it, and you watched him inspect it before turning his blue eyes back onto you. They lingered on your own eyes before lowering to your lips, his own twitching so subtly you might’ve missed it if you were anyone else.

“Or I can make sure you’ll be taken care of, looked after as if you were my own…” his gaze met yours again. “It’s entirely your choice.”

You two stared at one another for an infuriating amount of time before he let out a sharp whistle, telling the other men that nothing seemed to be here and to move on. His wording was not lost on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Coriolanus was the last to walk out, and despite the feel of his heavy gaze, you didn’t look his way the entire time.

Your ma commented on the strangeness of the whole ordeal, but nothing about it was strange to you. It was all very calculating and sinister actually, and while you grew up hearing countless talk of running away and living off the grid, you were never more tempted than in this moment…but you were not alone. Your ma was sickly, and your sister was too young.

…and if you left, you could only guess what you’d be leaving your family susceptible to.

Your future seemed inevitable no matter how much you tried to find a way out of the path set for you.

The first night you slept with Coriolanus Snow, it was storming just like that day you’d attempted to give him back his flower. You’d cried for a good three hours before, feeling helpless in the aftermath of another so-called inspection from Peacekeepers—this one much more destructive. The only light that night came from the brief flashes of lightning, and the sound of the rain drowned out the reluctant gasps to leave your lips.

Hands much softer than you ever expected trailed down your frame, curving over your hips and dipping underneath your thighs. The blond man’s lips rarely left your skin, kissing whatever part of you that came to mind, nose gently grazing you as he did and pulling shudders from your frame. It was a foreign feeling to be so heated and afraid at the same time.

Under the cover of darkness, his fingers intertwined with your own and his hips were flush with yours. The feel of him inside of you was much more jarring than you thought it would be, choked deep breaths leaving your parted lips as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts were slow, the complete opposite of what you expected, and you didn’t know if you liked that better or worse.

Every kiss felt wrong, like you were betraying yourself, but in the same manner, they also reminded you of that first day you met. You thought about when you stepped off of that train, and that smooth voice escaped those pink lips, and your stomach flipped no matter how much you pretended it didn’t. The person you were that day wanted to throw your head back and welcome the little nips he left along your skin.

The person you were, now, wanted to crawl inside of your skin.

This man had stalked you to the highest degree, following you all the way from The Capitol just to collect on the young woman whose survival he ensured. The things he’d risked and ultimately lost, he placed the weight of on your shoulders as if you were responsible to compensate for that somehow. As if it was your duty to make his sacrifices worth it.

When he pulled you into his lap, resting on him with arms circled around your waist, it was your turn to press your face into the area where his neck and shoulder met. His fingers dancing along your skin made you shudder, and that just made the tears collect more because you didn’t want to enjoy this, but your body and your brain didn’t seem to be in alignment.

When you were forced to come around him, you saw stars, and you were positive your nails left marks on his back.

You didn’t really think that no more trouble from Peacekeepers was worth the figurative collar around your neck. The abundance of food and supplies might have been, if only to just see the smiles on your ma and sister’s faces, but even then, when you found your back pressed to Coriolanus’ chest as he drove his cock up into you, you wondered if it was actually worth it.

Your ma would say no, that you knew for sure, but you supposed it wasn’t her call to make.

After all, the alternative was psychological torment and worst-case scenarios you didn’t even want to entertain.

“Would you have had her arrested?” you quietly wondered one night.

The sheet was clutched to your chest, and you were facing the wall, still unable to look him in the eye directly afterwards. You’d never been able to, feeling used and low and indefensible. You tried not to dwell on the feel of his fingertips tracing patterns into your shoulder, his cool breath hitting your skin as he exhaled.

“I mean…would you have…framed her somehow? Found some justification for it?”

You didn’t know why you were asking, certain you wouldn’t like the answer, and as you predicted, you felt your throat tighten the longer the silence stretched. Against your will—like many things you’d been doing as of late—a few tears escaped, and even before he answered, you knew what you were going to hear.

“Yes,” he confessed, just as quietly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, subtly wiping your face.

“I sacrificed so much for you to win, and not just because your win was my win…but because I wanted to see you win,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your back. “…because I wanted you.”

You knew that, but having it confirmed so plainly was disturbing.

“…and when I eventually make my way back to The Capitol, as we both know I will, I’ll still want you.”

Your stomach sank at that, and for the first time, you turned to look at him while still trembling in the aftermath of what had quickly become a nightly occurrence. His gaze was still focused on where your back had been, and when his eyes flitted up to connect with yours, you didn’t have the words to convey how you felt about what he was insinuating.

“In The Capitol, you’ll have access to things you could never even imagine…and you could send those same things back to your family,” he told you, reaching up to touch your face.

When you moved to sit up, he stopped you, a firm grip on your arm. Coryo—as he liked for you to call him—fixed you with a look that you knew all too well. It was the look he gave you when you tried to come up with any excuse as to why you couldn’t meet with him. It was the look you received when you briefly forgot the power dynamics here, turning away from him and attempting to push him away.

It was a look that told you not to fight the inevitable.

“I want you there with me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and there was so much conviction in his voice that the thought of arguing seemed legitimately draining. You simply stared at him, eyes glassy, and he stared back, waiting for verbal confirmation of what you both knew was going to happen, anyway. You had no choice in the matter, you never did, and for a brief horrifying moment, you almost wished you were a lone orphan who didn’t have to look out for anybody but yourself.

That thought did make tears spill over.

It was a horrible thing to think, but your loved ones were being used against you, and you knew that your ma—and your sister if she were old enough to comprehend these things—would never want this for you. Coryo sat up with you, a hand resting on your cheek as he gazed at you, a thumb brushing the tears away. It wasn’t meant to be comforting.

Nothing he did was ever meant to be comforting.

“I want you there with me,” he repeated.

You wondered what someone like you would possibly do in The Capitol.

“I don’t belong there,” you whispered, a poor attempt to get him to change his mind.

His response was swift and clipped.

“You belong with me.”

When he pressed his lips to yours, it was expected that you would kiss him back. His thumb brushed along your skin as you did, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that quickly escalated into a groan. His free arm snaked around you, and your last attempt at resisting proved futile, so you let him lay you down.

Sex with Coriolanus was a maddening experience.

You didn’t want it, and your brain didn’t want it, but it was as if your body was its own separate entity running on hormones and animal instinct.

When he rested his full weight on top of you, you shuddered for a multitude of reasons—one of which you didn’t want to acknowledge. When he slid his hand between your breasts and down to your stomach, your back arched, chest pressing up and into his. When he pushed into you all torturously slow as he always did, you involuntarily held your breath, shaking at the feel of his hips connecting with yours, the length of him fully sheathed in your warmth.

You were terrified of him, so that was why you opened up for him like those budding roses he used to carry around, but in doing so, you made yourself vulnerable beneath him. You made yourself more susceptible to his kisses and his touch and that maddening voice that knew just how to get its way. He wasn’t a very talkative man when he was inside of you, much more content with letting his actions speak for themselves, but tonight was different.

“Look at me,” he whispered, curving his hips into yours. “Look right at me.”

You did, and while you didn’t know the specifics of the psychology behind this, you knew that looking into the eyes of your tormentor while in the act couldn’t be good.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he breathlessly told you, nose brushing against yours with every thrust.

You could hear that it was starting to rain again, and you pressed your hands into the small of his back, trying to ground yourself in some way—trying to have control over something, anything. Tears kissed your eyes, and you swore—you swore—that something in those blues of his twinkled. It sparked something in his gaze, and in his psyche, his thrusts becoming more powerful and making you gasp, nails pressing into his skin.

He only looked especially satisfied when the tears spilled over.

When he came inside of you, and you around him, you swore you saw stars.

You even thought you saw snow.

[wannabeeverything]

I personally really like a theory that Le Archivisto was just wandering around on foot all this time and only after Sam gave his statement they went "oh yeah i can just take a train I forgot"

And I too really, really hope Alice will be fine. Like, there is clearly something up with her based on the ARG and I really don't want Jonny and Alex to give their protagonists lore bombs post-mortem again

Also we need her and Teddy to finally have a normal conversation for once and break out of the rom-com logic cycle

Tmagp 29 thoughts!!

Sorry I was a little later to this one I’m on a really nice little vaycay but I got the chance to sit back in a place w good reception and listen to this one!

I don’t have tooo many thoughts about this one I’m mostly just in shock and fear lol but that’s the point ig :)

Yay Sam isn’t dead? I don’t think I should celebrate so soon tho-

I feel like aspects of this statement will def be foreshadowing Hilltop and I am very scared of it will be sacrificing a loved one for something/ your life or something to do w tunnels and keys…. I am side eyeing Celia pointedly rn if you can’t tell (jk I love her but still I am worried)

This is the first time I have had a really fucking bad feeling Alice is going to die, like dreadfully so. She's going to be get on the next train, go to Hilltop, Sam and Celia are going to be in serious trouble, and she's going to dive in and get herself killed saving them.

If she does I am throwing fucking hands, she’s literally my favorite character and my everything right now.

Also Teddy in pinks is wonderful, I hope this means his gonna come back and be a part of the main cast, tho that likely means someone will have to go at the end of this season for him to fill the slot and I am not ready to lose anyone ESPECIALLY ALICE GOD

Oh and the joke going around that The/An Archivist needing to take public transport to get around has me cackling

[railmitra]

What Happens If Waiting List E-Ticket Does Not Get Confirmed?

If a waiting list e-ticket does not get confirmation status after the chart preparation. The Wait listed e-ticket gets cancelled automatically and your refund is credited to the same account from which payment was done.

For more information click here: https://www.railmitra.com or to get easy access of rail enquiry features download the RailMitra app: https://bit.ly/2o01TTi

[ellecdc]

About the onde bed trope… since there aren’t a lot of those, I was wondering if you could write one with reader and wolfstar? Maybe a smut or just something fluff

hi babes! so I got this request right after someone had asked for recommendations for one-bed tropes, which I had only ever read one and shared it. SO, I wanted to remind everyone of the cute wolfstar x reader one bed fic I read by @longlivedelusion, and know that while I'm happy to contribute to this super fun trope with our lovely wolfstar, that it was more than likely inspired by their awesome work linked above!

poly!wolfstar x Potter!reader who have to share a bed [2.8k words]

CW: mutual pining, feelings of 3rd wheeling, fluff, potter family

The hotel was bustling with what appeared to be just as many staff as there were patrons waiting in the lobby.

Bags were being whisked away, key cards were being handed to waiting hands, and nearly every second person was wearing a Manchester United jersey. 

James was positively giddy and practically vibrating with excitement, Lily and Regulus had their faces shoved into Lily’s phone as they (re)read the itinerary they had planned for James’ birthday trip, Remus arched his shoulders as he let his duffle fall to the ground and Sirius murmured promises of a back massage when they got to their room, and you people watched. 

Your parents had given James (and all of his friends) tickets to the Manchester home game and a few nights stay at a posh hotel close to the stadium.

Lily and Regulus, being James’ dutiful partners, planned other things for the lot of you to do while you were here, too.

Right now, however, you wanted nothing more than to get to your room, take a shower to wash the train off of your being, and go to sleep.

Mercifully the check in counter cleared and your group stepped up to the waiting concierge. 

“Hi there! We’re checking in for Potter; group of six.” Lily offered primly as she handed the man a copy of the booking number. 

“Right! Okay, so Potter, two rooms, each with a king, for three nights.” The man read from the screen, looking over in concern when six varied protests sounded from the group.

“No, I’m quite sure it’s meant to be three rooms.” Lily corrected quickly, offering you a worried glance before she nearly leaned over the welcome desk to peer at the computer monitor as if she was ready to take over for the concierge. 

The man hummed as he continued tapping keys and clicking his mouse and scrolling and please for the love of God don’t let there be a mix up.

It was going to be you that was the problem; not Lily and Regulus who were counting on a romantic trip to celebrate their boyfriend, and not Remus and Sirius with their long-established relationship and promises of Remus’ massage.

“The booking is only showing two rooms, uhm, let me just confirm with my manager that I’m not missing anything.” He bumbled awkwardly before standing and all but fleeing from the group of you. 

“It’s probably just a mistake.” James offered quickly as he jostled your shoulder. “With this many people here, the system is probably just lagging.”

But it wasn’t just a mistake and the system wasn’t just lagging and there was very much only two rooms booked under Potter.

“Is there any way we can book a third room? It can go on the same card.” You asked meekly, nervously glancing between the manager and the computer. 

“Unfortunately, the hotel is entirely booked.” She offered you with a pained smile, and just from your survey of the lobby while you’d been waiting in line, you knew that had to be true. 

“Do you have any cots we could have sent up to the rooms?” Lily asked hopefully, earning another grimace from the manager which was all the response you needed.

You could feel the group looking at you awkwardly and you immediately regretted even coming; you should have just left James to celebrate his birthday with his partners and best friends and stayed out of it, but instead, you were the troublesome younger sibling who your parents forced the group to bring along. Maybe you could catch a train back home? Maybe you could catch a train a town or two over and just have your own mini vacation and leave them to their celebrations.

“Don’t worry, bug!” James said as he rubbed your arm roughly before reaching over you to grab the keys to the two rooms from the concierge who was clearly now only waiting for the lot of you to bugger off so he could help the people behind you. “We’ll make this work.”

“You shouldn’t have to make it work, Jamie.” You moaned as your group moved to stand against a wall across the lobby as you all tried to problem solve this. 

“Both rooms have just one bed each, right? Do either of them have a sofa?” Regulus asked first.

“The pictures online didn’t look like it; the rooms had the bed, one grandfather chair, and a desk with a rolling desk chair.” Lily responded. 

“Okay, well, both rooms have king sized beds, we can share.” Sirius offered simply, causing you to nearly whimper.

“I’m not going to impose on anyone’s beds.” You murmured as you stared resolutely at your feet.

“You can share with me! It’ll be like the old days when we’d have a “sleepover” in the living room!” James offered excitedly, and you had to hand it to him for his sense of adventure and enthusiasm, but you couldn’t help but notice the quick glance Lily and Regulus shared.

“It’s your birthday weekend, Jamie, you should get to spend it with your partners.”

“Okayyyy, uhm, what about the girls room together and boys room together?” He offered instead, causing Lily to furrow her brows at him.

“But then two of us will be sharing while four of you will be sharing.” She countered, followed up quickly by Regulus who stated he would not, under any circumstances, be sharing a bed with his brother. 

“No, you’re right, erm, well… Me, Pads, and Moony could share-”

“James, I love you, but you’re terrible at this.” Sirius interrupted before turning his gaze to you. “You should just stay with me and Moons; leave these three to their…canoodling.” He said around a theatrical gag. 

“You guys were probably looking forward to a romantic stay too.” You muttered somewhat petulantly, and that was what nearly brought you to the brink of tears.

Not that you were the figurative sixth wheel, not that you were left without a room and imposing on two relationships, and not even that you felt particularly out of place.

No, the thing that nearly brought you to tears was the fact that you were acting so petulant on your brother's birthday which he had been so incredibly excited for.

You would not ruin this for him, for any of them. 

“No, you know what, sorry, you’re right, Sirius. I’ll pile the extra bedding they keep in the closets and make myself a little nest on the floor, it’ll be like camping!” You decided, pasting on the widest smile you could muster. 

You swore you saw Sirius’ face fall slightly but powered on when James was back to clapping his hands together excitedly. “Brilliant! This will be so fun, and so worth it, bug. Don’t you worry.”

And you were worried, but he didn’t need to know that. 

ʚ ═══·୨ ꕤ ୧·═══ ɞ

“You’re not actually going to sleep on the floor, right doll?” Sirius asked after the hotel door shut with a click behind him as he glanced around the room. 

It was perhaps a bit tight, but if you set up your little nest underneath the window, neither boy should trip over you in the middle of the night should they need to use the loo.

“Oh it’ll be fine.” You offered in what you hoped was convincing nonchalance. 

“I really think the bed is big enough, dove. And Sirius usually latches onto me in the night so you shouldn’t even notice we’re there.” Remus offered gently, watching as you flung the closet doors open to procure the extra bedding. 

“S’not my fault, moons.” Sirius countered as he trailed right on your heels to where you were trying to make your ‘nest’. “You keep the thermostat so sodding low, I’d simply freeze to death if you didn’t share your body heat.”

He ignored your indignant “oi!” as he immediately plucked your pillows and blankets off the floor from where you’d placed them and moved them to the end of the bed. “And, I think you do that on purpose; you like cuddling.” He continued, gently swatting at your hands as you tried to reclaim your makeshift bed. 

“Oh, I love cuddling.” Remus agreed readily, clearly ignoring the fact that you and Sirius were currently in a petty squabble over linens. “What I don’t like is being jolted awake to your ice cold feet being shoved under my thighs at three o'clock in the morning- dove.” He gave you a pointed look with one arched eyebrow as you huffed petulantly and crossed your arms. 

“You are not sleeping on the floor, doll. Your parents paid for the sodding rooms.” Sirius claimed resolutely. 

“They were meant to pay for three rooms so that you two would have some privacy.” You argued.

“You’re really the only one upset about this, babes.” He stated, face softening when you nervously pulled your lip between your teeth. “If you’re worried about space, I’ll take the floor.”

“I don’t want you to take the floor.”

“Then I’ll take-” Remus started, but was interrupted when both you and Sirius spat “you’re not sleeping on the floor, Remus” and “like fuck you’re sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridiculous”, respectively. 

“So those are your choices, sweetheart; I take the floor or we share the bed.” 

After this many years of knowing each other, you knew when Sirius was bluffing, and you knew when it was better to fold; with the no nonsense look that currently adorned his face, you knew that those were, indeed, your only options.

You looked over at the bed wearily; it really was quite large…and you could use your own blanket so that you weren’t encroaching on their space or stealing their blankets. 

The problem was that the bed wasn’t the only problem. It also was very much the fact that you were pretty well completely gone for two of your brothers best friends.

Two of your brothers best friends who were very much dating each other. 

Two of your brothers best friends who were dating each other that you were completely gone for and now forced to share a bed with them. 

Awesome. 

ʚ ═══·୨ ꕤ ୧·═══ ɞ

Sirius just about died when you stepped out of the bathroom with wet hair leaving damp patches on your sleep shirt and your legs on full display thanks to the matching shorts.

He just about died again when you caught him staring at you.

He nearly died a third time when Remus’ pointed clearing of his throat was what finally broke him from the trance you had on him; both he and Remus now red in the face while you looked to be fairing little better as you hid behind your wet hair and fussed with your toiletries instead of looking at either of them.

Sirius felt horribly pathetic - years of living with the Potter’s did absolutely nothing to dim the flame he held for you, nor did the physical space that living with Remus in their own flat for the past few years offered him.

The only thing that made his infatuation slightly less embarrassing was the fact that Remus held a similar flame for you, too. 

So while this was sort of everything he’d ever wanted - spending the night in a bed with two people he was absolutely crazy about - he was equally afraid of making you horribly uncomfortable. 

“Smooth.” Remus muttered as he came up behind Sirius only after you’d gone back into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

Sirius wanted to turn and sneer at his boyfriend. “I know I am” danced on the tip of his tongue; his usual suave blaseness in all its glory rearing its head at the insinuation that Sirius was anything but a certified charmer.

But all that managed to leave Sirius’ lips was a breathy “fuck” as he stared decisively at the space you’d been standing previously.

But before Sirius could spend any (more) time spiralling or Remus could offer words of encouragement (or commiseration), you were tentatively sliding into what the three of you had agreed would be your side.

Your side. 

The sentiment made Sirius stomach dip; after all these years he was finally getting a taste of what he’d always wanted.

Yet it wasn’t enough.

The lights were off and Sirius’ back was pressed into Remus’ chest as they both watched the steady rise and fall of your shoulders as you slept. They’d both felt so tired on the train ride here, yet neither of them could bring themselves to close their eyes when the alternative was getting to see you rest in their bed.

“Is this really happening?” Remus whispered quietly then, causing Sirius to snuggle impossibly further into him.

“Feels like a dream.” Sirius whispered back; his hand itching to reach out and twirl a lock of your drying hair around his finger, to encourage you to roll over so that they could see your pretty face, to pull you into him and hold you close. 

Remus tightened his hold around Sirius and pushed his nose into his shoulder. “We should tell her; need to tell her… this weekend.” 

Sirius shook his head, but it wasn’t in disagreement. Rather, it was in exasperation.

“I can’t believe she can’t tell how crazy we are about her.” 

And Sirius nearly died a fourth time in one night when you seemingly shot up out of a dead sleep and spun to face them. 

“You’re what?” You asked; no hints of sleep in your tone (nor your wild eyes) as you stared at them incredulously. 

“Fuck.” Sirius repeated eloquently as he and Remus both sat up, the latter leaning over to turn on a lamp causing both you and Sirius to wince as your eyes adjusted.

“I thought you were asleep?” Sirius accused then, but you didn’t take the bait. 

“You’re…what about me?” You whispered carefully.

“Crazy.” Remus responded quickly; whether he was braver than Sirius or opting to rip the bandaid off, Sirius didn’t know. “We’re crazy about you.”

You made a breathy sound, almost as if you were going to ask “what” or “why” or “when” before the question died on your lips. 

Sirius stared at you in wait; he didn’t know whether you were about to cry, whether you were going to demand they let you build a ‘nest’ on the floor so you could escape them, or whether you were going to call your folks and ask them to pick you up.

So when your face broke out into a slow, still disbelieving but equally relieved grin, well…he’d be damned. 

“Yeah?” You asked hopefully, eyes swimming with unshed tears as you nervously looked between the two of them. 

“Yeah…” Sirius let out with a breath, daring to reach across the expanse of the bed that the three of you had clearly decided would be a no-man zone and delighting when you eagerly accepted his hand in yours.

“We thought you were asleep, dove.” Remus offered gently, and a shy smile crept across your face as you shook your head, a lone tear trailing down your cheek that your free hand was quick to wipe away.

“Couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Sirius cooed pathetically, rubbing along your knuckles with his thumb as he took your inability to sleep to be a personal offence. 

“Was too busy thinking about how crazy I am about the two of you, too.” You admitted in a whisper, and Sirius wondered if he had even frozen long enough to share more than a 0.35 second glance with Remus before he bodily launched himself and tackled you to the bed before peppering your face with kisses as you squealed.

“You mean-” kisses “to tell me-” more kisses as you giggled “that we could have been doing this” you squealed as he nipped at your collar bone “this whole sodding time!?” 

“Oi!” Remus chided teasingly. “Don’t maul her!” Though his statement was severely undermined when he all but pulled you into his lap to press his own rough kiss to the side of your face. 

“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Sirius threatened with a beaming smile as you looked at him breathlessly; eyes bright, smile wide, and heart full. “We have lost time to make up for.” 

ʚ ═══·୨ ꕤ ୧·═══ ɞ

Enough was enough, quite frankly. The tiptoeing, the dancing, the shy glances, the longing looks - it was all too much.

Something simply needed to be done.

Was it temerarious? Perhaps. Was it conniving? More than slightly. But was it also necessary? Most definitely.

She only hoped that she hadn’t gone too far, is all.

But any worries that Euphemia Potter may have had vanished entirely the second that her phone buzzed with a text from James the next morning that simply read: it worked.

[riacte]

Unconventional format / mixed media / meta / epistolary fic ideas:

Script format but the characters slowly break fourth wall until they grow self aware and scream to leave but the script confines them.

Mock up notes of an author's fic outline only for a "fan favourite" / "author's darling" character to gain sentience and influence the story. The character changes the outline to suit their own agenda, and their changes are marked with a different colour whereas black text means it's the author's will. Maybe another character using another colour gains sentience. The different colours fight for dominance. Mom says it's my turn with the keyboard hey what the fuck man excuse me I'm literally trying to save my family can you guys let go and let me write your character arcs in peace OH FUCK OFF

Recipe fic. The story is told via those unnecessarily long backstories on a recipe blog in which you learn about someone's grandma or a breakup or literally anything. Bonus points if the actual recipe deals with worldbuilding (what ingredients are available? What utensils are used? How to serve this meal? Woohoo Dungeon Meshi) or in-cheek recipes (eg. "Recipe for making up with your estranged mother - Step 1: Mix patience, nostalgia, and filial piety and let it marinate for ten years. Step 2: Throw that shit into the trash because you're better than that")

Travel fic. A character is lost and trying to find their way somewhere. GPS directions, googling "x place to x place", tickets and dates, train station maps, leaflets. It gets weirder and weirder. You never get closer to your destination. You're walking around in circles. It's always 10 meters away. Where are you going and where have you been?

Receipts. Try to infer what a character is doing judging from the weird things they buy together. Also yipppee inflation tracker. On the other side, maybe it can be about a cashier/ shop owner getting to know their customers and what they order.

Written from the pov of an non-native English speaker, all the English words are italicized whereas their native tongue are the only words not italicized. Inspired by Kupu rere kē by Alice Te Punga Somerville. This is because I got salty about people from Ao3 Reddit saying they won't read a fic in all italics.

Murder mystery / "Among Us" style impersonation fic strictly using the chatfic format. Characters and readers will have to figure out which character has been killed and replaced from the way they text and use emojis. This is also because I got salty about Ao3 Reddit being a wee bit pretentious about emoji usage in fics. Maybe emojis can be important plot devices! Some people prefer to sign off messages with a heart emoji of their signature colour, so won't it be weird if they use another coloured heart? How about someone using lapslock suddenly using proper capitalisation and full stops? Can you tell if someone's phone has been stolen? What if someone's mother is pretending to text like their child? Why is someone suddenly only using UwU speak? Is it a bit, or have they been replaced?

Innocuous second person POV until the last line where it's suddenly revealed to be first person POV all along and the "I" has been stalking and narrating "you".

Other fun bits / Easter eggs / secrets to hide:

Decoding within the text itself. Maybe we get given instructions to find a word in x chapter on page y on the nth line. And when we as readers collect all the words, they form a sentence that spells out an important fact which the characters are oblivious to. Or maybe the in-universe characters find a book with the same title as the irl fic with a bookmark in it, and if you go to where the bookmark is stuck irl, you'll find the murderer plainly stated. The rest of the fic is about the readers having hard confirmation of who the murderer is while characters don't know.

A phrase is subtly repeated throughout the text of the fic and is spelled out with the letter that begins a sentence. It gives off the effect that the narrator is screaming and crying into the void (to the readers in the fourth wall) while trying to avoid detection. Bonus points if the same word is repeated for pages and pages to the point the lack of sentence variation feels weird and clunky.

Morse code!! I love morse code! Using onomatopoeia to convey the dots and dashes! The sound of rain pattering on the tin rooftop— drop, drop, drop. A low whistle of a train rumbling in the distance. He slowly sharpens his knife, creating a shiiing sound. A lengthy, high pitched squeal from his kettle. A dog barks. A sharp knock. His heart thumps. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. SOS. Maybe a character's death scene spells out the name of their mysterious murderer. Maybe a character is reminiscing their deceased loved one and the scene spells out what the deceased person would've wanted to tell them— "LIVE ON" or "I LOVE YOU" or something.

[thatonegayship]

Hey man me again, it’s nearly 3am and i was curious. What would theoretically happen if someone (say a human bully, or a lesser uninformed demon or smthn of the sort) were to put down and talk absolute shit about Dipper with the anticipation of Bill joining in and/or being impressed and agreeing cause here’s this super cool and sexy guy surely he also thinks Dipper’s a useless freak right? How would Bill take this kinda confrontation about his husband? Would his reaction vary depending on wether or not Dipper was there? (I lowkey think it would but I’m just a worm in a bait bucket uk) (also sorry this comes across like a fucking critical thinking question from a middle school textbook)

At best someone talking shit about Dipper gets a long lecture about all the reasons Dipper is way, way cooler than them! And some broken bones. That's Bill's husband, he picked a great partner, and he is not going to pretend otherwise for someone else's ego.

The rant's absent if Dipper's around, but frankly? It'd be better for the bully/demon if Dipper was around to hear someone dissing him to Bill. In that Bill would refrain from the most gruesome acts within his mortal's sight.

Though if they're smart, they'll notice the way Bill's looking at them, and take that brief amount of time to run.

[pixiesfz]

microphone drop j.f x reader

plot: In which Vanessa forgets to tell Jessie she is mic’d up and all she talks about is you

warning: just fluff

Jessie was in the gym after training when Vanessa caught her.

“Jeff, Jflem, Jessatron, the Jessanator, the-“

“Hi” Jessie cut her friend off before she said random words with ‘jess’ in front of it.

“Whatchu up to?” Vanessa asked and Jessie motioned to the weights next to her “nice, hot your PB yet?”

Jessie crossed her head “no but y/n is helping me at home”

Vanessa smiled at the mention of you, she thought you were good for Jessie. You made her happy and Sinc always says she would never forget how giddy Jessie got after the first Australian friendly and you asked to swap shirts with her.

“How is y/n/n?”

Jessie blushed, “good, really good uhm did I tell you about my plan yet or-“

“No tell me, tell me now”

Even Vanessa forgot she was mic’d.

“Well after international break and before Olympics I was planning on proposing and-“ “what!” Vanessa jumped up in excitement

Jessie looked around nervously “yes?”

“This is huge Jessie” Vanessa smiled at her and she rubbed her already red cheeks “How are you going to do it?”

Jessie sat down next to Vanessa and pulled out her phone, excited to go into detail about this with someone.

“Okay so this is the ring, I saw her look at it before when we were buying a gift for her sister, it kinda gave me the whole idea in the first place but anyway” she rambled before going to her next photo of a FaceTime call with y/n’s parents as they gave a thumbs up.

“Then I got the permission from her parents but she likes to call them her rentals which I don’t get”

“Oh it’s like Australian slang there, parental figures without the ‘pa’” Vanessa explained and Jessie’s eyes widened as she finally got it “How do you know that?”

“Ellie”.

Jessie nodded before swiping to the next picture of confirmed plane tickets to Australia, your homeland “she thinks we’re going on a spontaneous trip to see her family, which we are but I’m also going to propose to her there” she explained and Vanessa swore she had never seen her captain so happy.

“And then I bought her this dress she always said she wanted but she said it was too cold to wear in London so I got it so she could wear it in Australia” Jessie said, swiping to the next picture as Vanessa realised Jessie had made an album dedicated to the planning of the big event.

“You going to do a speech”

“I want to try, I wrote one but I’m not that great at remembering lines” Jessie said, scratching behind her ear “that’s fine you’re good at thinking on the spot and also knowing y/n she will be saying yes even before your knee hits the ground”

Jessie smiled “I only plan on doing the ‘proposal’ thing once so I want it to be perfect for her”

Vanessa slapped her friend in the shoulder supportively “I’m sure y/n will think it’s perfect no matter what”.

It wasn’t until later when Jessie had finished spotting Vanessa on chest pressed and the social media came over asking for the mic was when her face paled over.

“You were mic’d the entire time?” She asked, her cheeks red as panic now evident on her face.

“Did I forget to tell you?” Vanessa asked as she thought back to their conversation.

“You know you cannot use any of that”.

[bloodyjuls-blog]

NOTHING MUCH(Russo's sister X Leah Williamson)

Kay Russo had always been Alessia’s shadow. Since they were little girls, Alessia was the star of the family: the one who shined on the football field, the one who made her parents proud, the one who had a solid group of friends who seemed to want to crush anyone who didn’t fit into their perfect world. Kay, on the other hand, was “the other.” It wasn’t that she wasn’t talented; it just never seemed like enough.

As they grew up, the differences became more pronounced. Alessia had a clear path: Manchester United, the English national team, and eventually Arsenal. On the other hand, Kay was stuck in mediocre jobs and awful comments from her parents and sister. “Why can’t you be more like Alessia?” was a phrase she heard all too often.

The relationship between Kay and Alessia was tense, but the breaking point came one night, when Alessia, along with a group of her friends, began to make fun of Kay in front of everyone at a family gathering.

“And you, Kay?” “What have you been up to lately?” Alessia said with a venomous smile. “Did you find a job or are you still living off of mom and dad’s money?”

Laughter echoed around the room, and though Kay tried to keep her composure, she felt her stomach churn with shame. That night, locked in her room, Kay collapsed on her bed with her eyes filled with tears. She knew she had to change something in her life and escape that toxic dynamic. It was then that while surfing the internet, she saw an ad for the Royal Navy: “Find a purpose. Discover your potential. Join the Royal Navy.”

Kay didn’t think twice. She knew that enlisting was her ticket out, but she also knew that her family would never understand. So she made a drastic decision: she didn’t tell them anything. The following week, the recruitment process began.

A few weeks later, Kay received confirmation: she had been accepted. The date to report was marked on her calendar, and as it approached, she felt a mix of nerves and relief. One night before she left, she decided she should at least tell her family something, but not everything.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll be gone for a while,” she said over dinner.

Her mother looked up from her plate with disdain.

“On ​​vacation? With what money?” she asked sarcastically.

Kay took a deep breath, trying not to lose her cool. “Never mind, I just wanted to let them know.”

Alessia laughed softly and murmured, “Always so mysterious.”

Kay gritted her teeth, finishing her meal in silence. That would be the last dinner she would share with them for a long time.

The day Kay left, she left home early, carrying a backpack and leaving behind a short note on the kitchen table: “I’m gone. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Take care of yourselves.”

The months that followed were a whirlwind. Basic training in the Royal Navy was brutal, but Kay held on to it with determination. Every physical exercise, every lesson, every grueling hour felt like a step toward freedom. Here she wasn't "Alessia's sister," she didn't have to endure her family's hurtful comments. Here she was simply Kay, someone trying hard to find her place.

After completing her training, Kay was given her first leave. She decided to return home, even though she knew it would be difficult.

When she arrived, the reception was cold. Alessia wasn’t even there; she was away on a trip with her team. Her parents barely showed any interest in hearing about her experience in the Navy.

“So what’s next?” her father asked in an indifferent tone. “Are you going to be here long?”

Kay felt the knot in her chest grow bigger. That night, as Alessia posted pictures on Instagram with her teammates, Kay sat alone in the backyard, wondering if she would ever truly belong in this family.

It was during one of those visits home that Kay met Leah Williamson. Alessia had invited some of her teammates over for dinner, and though Kay tried to stay out of the way, she couldn’t help but run into them. Leah was kind, something Kay hadn’t expected. They had a brief but meaningful conversation, and in that moment, Kay felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: connection.

Kay returned to her base after that brief visit home. The experience only reinforced what she already knew: her family would not change. But one thing remained in her mind: Leah Williamson. They had exchanged a few words over dinner, but there was something about her warmth, the way she seemed to see Kay as a person, and not as a shadow of Alessia. Leah didn’t know her, she was unprejudiced, and that made her different.

The day Kay had her first chance to visit London while on leave, she remembered that Leah was playing for Arsenal. She decided to take a chance and attend a match. It was strange to be surrounded by thousands of fans excited about something that, until recently, had been a source of insecurity for her: football and the shadow of her sister. Alessia was not on the team yet, which made the experience a little more bearable.

After the match, Leah, who had played spectacularly, was surrounded by fans and media. Kay watched her from a distance, trying to convince herself that she would simply leave without saying anything. But Leah saw her.

“Kay!” she called from the field, waving excitedly.

Kay froze for a moment before shyly approaching.

“What are you doing here babe?” Leah asked, clearly surprised but pleased.

Kay shrugged, trying not to look nervous. “I was in town and thought I’d come to watch the game.”

Leah smiled, and something in her expression made Kay feel less invisible. “I’m glad you came. Do you have plans now?”

Before she could stop herself, Kay shook her head. That night, they ended up having dinner together at a small, low-key restaurant near the stadium. It was the start of something unexpected.

As the months passed, Kay’s visits to London became more frequent. She always found an excuse to see her, and Leah seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed Leah’s. They talked about everything: life in the Navy, the challenges of being a professional soccer player, and, occasionally, Kay’s family struggles.

One night, as they walked through the quiet streets of London after dinner, Leah stopped and looked at her seriously.

“Kay, why don’t you ever talk about Alessia much? I know you are sisters, but you almost seem to avoid mentioning her.”

Kay looked at the ground, feeling her chest tighten. Talking about Alessia was like opening a wound that never healed.

“It’s complicated, Leah. I’ve always been… different to them. Alessia’s the star, the one who shines. I… I just exist on the periphery.”

Leah took her hand, an unexpected but comforting gesture. “That’s not fair, Kay. You shouldn’t feel that way.”

Kay looked up, surprised by Leah’s sincerity. It was at that moment that she knew this connection was something special.

As her relationship with Leah grew stronger, Kay knew there would be trouble sooner or later. Leah was a public figure, and although she hadn’t revealed details of her personal life to the world, speculation was constant. The Arsenal team was full of rumors about who Leah’s partner could be, but no one suspected Kay. Alessia, still playing in Manchester, had no idea that her younger sister was getting so close to one of her friends.

Kay also knew that her family wouldn’t approve of the relationship, not only because of who Leah was, but because the idea that she could have anything valuable in her life seemed inconceivable to them.

Everything changed when Kay received the news of a new deployment abroad. It was a high-risk mission, and although she was used to challenges, this time was different. Now she had something to lose. When she told Leah, the reaction was immediate.

“How long will you be gone honey?” Leah asked, trying to remain calm.

“I don’t know but it could be months.” Leah nodded and cuddled her, but Kay could see the worry in her eyes. That night, as they said goodbye, Leah hugged her tighter than usual.

“Just promise me you’ll come back, okay?”

Kay didn’t answer, because she knew that was a promise she couldn’t guarantee.

During deployment, Kay was severely wounded in an ambush. The bullet that hit her back damaged her spine, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Doctors told her she would never walk again. The physical pain was immense, but the emotional blow was even worse.

When she was finally able to reach Leah from the military hospital, the conversation was brief but full of emotion.

“I’m alive,” was the first thing Kay said, her voice shaking.

Leah, on the other end of the line, let out a sigh of relief, but she couldn’t hide her worry. “What happened, Kay? Tell me the truth.”

Kay closed her eyes, feeling the tears begin to flow. “I’m in a wheelchair, Leah.” I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.

The silence on the other end of the line was painful, but when Leah finally spoke, her voice was firm. “I’m going to be with you, Kay. No matter what.”

Kay spent weeks in the military hospital, facing the reality of her condition. Doctors stabilized her, but the words she most feared hearing finally came: she would never walk again. She wasn’t ready to face it. Her life as she knew it had changed forever. The military, her only refuge, was also out of reach.

London became her next destination. The medical staff recommended that she be transferred to a civilian hospital where she could receive specialized treatment and subsequently begin the rehabilitation process. When Kay thought about where she could stay afterward, only one person came to mind: Leah.

Leah waited for Kay at Heathrow Airport, visibly worried. Even though she had received constant updates about her condition, seeing her in person would be an emotional challenge. When Kay appeared in the wheelchair, pushed by a hospital attendant, Leah felt her heart tighten in her chest.

Kay wore a stoic expression as if she was using all her strength to keep her emotions in check. Leah could see past that, though. Kay’s eyes, once full of life, now reflected exhaustion and pain.

“Hi my love" Kay said quietly as she came to her side.

Leah leaned in to hug her, ignoring the fact that they were in the middle of a crowded airport. It was a long hug, one they both needed.

“Welcome home baby,” Leah said softly leaning against her and kiss her deeply.

Kay wanted to correct her, reminding her that London wasn’t her home, but she couldn’t find the words. Maybe, after all, Leah was the closest thing she had to a home.

Leah’s London flat was cozy but small, and the modifications needed to accommodate the wheelchair made the space feel even more cramped. Leah had worked tirelessly to get everything ready, installing ramps and rearranging furniture. Kay felt grateful, but also deeply uncomfortable.

“You didn’t have to do all this, Le” Kay said as she scanned the space with difficulty.

Leah, who was making a cup of tea, turned to her with a calm smile. “Of course I did. I wasn’t going to let you go through this alone.”

Kay nodded, but inside, guilt and frustration were growing. She wasn’t used to depending on anyone, let alone someone as important to her as Leah.

The first few weeks were a mix of intense emotions. Kay tried to keep a routine, attending physical therapy sessions and learning to adjust to her new life. However, every little failure—not being able to reach something, needing help with simple tasks—felt like a monumental defeat.

One night, while Leah was cooking, Kay decided it was time to talk about what had happened at the military hospital. It was a weight she had carried alone for far too long.

“Leah, can you sit down for a moment?”

Leah stopped what she was doing and sat across from Kay in the living room. The concern on her face was evident.

“What’s wrong, Kay?”

Kay took a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly. “There’s something I need to tell you about what they did to me in the Navy before all the injuries happened.”

Leah nodded, her expression becoming more serious. “I’m listening.”

Kay began to speak, her voice shaky at first, but gaining strength as she went on. She told him about the treatments she’d endured: the electroshocks they justified as “experimental therapy,” the times they’d left her alone for hours without help, and the “rehab” sessions that often included pushing her physically to the limit.

“There were days I thought… I wasn’t going to get out of there. They yelled at me that I needed to be strong, that if I couldn’t take it, I didn’t deserve to be in the military.”

Leah clenched her fists as she listened, her face reflecting a mix of anger and sadness.

“How could they do that to you?” she finally asked, her voice cracking.

“It’s the price of being weak in their world, Leah. They couldn’t stand someone like me not being “useful” anymore.”

Leah leaned forward, taking Kay’s hands in hers. “Listen to me, Kay. What they did was inhumane, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are one of the strongest people I know.”

The tears Kay had been holding back finally began to fall. Leah didn’t say anything else, she held her, allowing her to release all the pain she had built up over the months.

Alessia’s arrival at Arsenal added a new layer of tension to Kay’s life. Although both had avoided any confrontation, Alessia’s passive-aggressive comments were quick to appear.

One afternoon, while Leah and Kay were at home, Alessia arrived unannounced. Leah had forgotten to lock her door, and Alessia walked in like she owned the place.

“So this is where you’re hiding, Kay?” Alessia said, with a sarcastic smile as she looked around the apartment.

Leah, who was in the kitchen, quickly came out upon hearing Alessia’s tone. “What are you doing here, Alessia?”

“I just wanted to see how my long-lost sister lived. It seems you’ve been busy… or should I say ‘well-kept’?”

Kay, who was in the living room, turned to face Alessia. “What do you want, Alessia?”

“I want to understand how you went from being a ghost to… this.” She pointed at Leah with a nod.

Leah, clearly upset, stepped in. “Alessia, if you come here to cause trouble, you can leave.”

The exchange escalated, and Kay felt old wounds reopening. Alessia had always known how to touch her weak spots, and Leah was caught in the middle. Eventually, Leah had to ask Alessia to leave, leaving Kay emotionally drained.

Despite the conflicts, the relationship between Kay and Leah continued to grow stronger. The emotional connection they shared was evident, and small displays of affection—a hand on the shoulder, an unexpected hug—began to evolve into something more.

One night, while watching a movie together, Leah leaned slightly toward Kay, resting her head on her shoulder. Kay, surprised at first, allowed the gesture and smiled.

It was a small moment of intimacy, but to Kay, it meant more than Leah could ever imagine.

Winter had come to the city, and with it, the streets of London were filled with Christmas lights and decorations. Kay, however, barely noticed the festivities. Her days were divided between physical therapy, medical adjustments, and increasingly intimate moments with Leah. However, the conflict with Alessia and the memories of the abuse at the military compound weighed on her like a constant shadow.

One morning, as Kay tried to adjust to the new exercise routine her physical therapist had recommended, Leah received an unexpected text from Alessia. She wanted to “talk.”

“Is it a good idea to give her space after what happened here?” Kay asked from her spot in the living room, as Leah checked the message.

Leah sighed, leaving her phone on the table. “I think it’s not just you, Kay. Alessia… she has issues to work out with herself.”

Kay raised an eyebrow. “Don’t justify what she does. She’s always found ways to make me feel like I’m worthless.” Leah walked over and knelt in front of Kay, placing her hands over hers. “No one has the right to make you feel that way. Not even Alessia.”

Kay wanted to believe her, but the years of emotional abuse she had endured were not easy to forget.

That afternoon, Leah went to Arsenal Stadium to meet Alessia after training. Alessia, who had been in a bad mood all day, was quick to spill the beans.

“What the hell are you doing with Kay?” Alessia asked bluntly as Leah closed the door to the meeting room.

Leah, trying to remain calm, replied, “I’m looking out for her. Something no one else is doing.”

“Looking out?” Alessia let out a sarcastic laugh. “Since when do you need to play savior?”

Leah frowned. “This isn’t a game, Alessia.” Kay has been through things that neither you nor I can imagine, and instead of supporting her, you--

“Don’t lecture me!” Alessia interrupted, slamming her hands on the table. “Kay has always been a burden. Every time I tried to stand out, she was there, ruining everything.”

Leah felt her patience wearing thin. “You know what ruins everything, Alessia? Your inability to see her as anything more than a reflection of your insecurities.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Alessia hadn’t expected such a direct response, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

“This isn’t over, Leah,” she finally said, before leaving the room.

That night, Leah returned to the apartment emotionally drained. Kay noticed her expression and decided it was time to share something she had been holding back.

“What happened?” Kay asked as Leah plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Your sister… doesn’t understand anything,” Leah replied, massaging her temples.

Kay sighed and looked out the window. “It’s because she’s never seen me as her sister, Leah. I was always ‘the other Russo.’ The one with no talent. The one who didn’t fit in.”

Leah turned to her, surprised by the tone of vulnerability in her voice.

“You want to know why I joined the Royal Navy?” Kay asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Leah nodded, knowing Kay needed to vent.

“I saw an ad online while I was looking for a job. It seemed like a way to escape everything… from Alessia, from my family, from myself. I wanted to prove that I could do something for myself, something that no one could take away from me.”

Kay paused, her hands shaking as she recalled those days.

“But even then… it was never enough. And then… then came the hospital.”

Leah took her hand, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

Kay shook her head. “I need to. Because if I don’t, those things are going to keep haunting me.”

Then, Kay began to speak, detailing the horrors she had endured. She described the time when she had arrived at the hospital very badly injured thinking that what had happened was her fault, or that it was all karma for being fragile and not facing things, where she would rather a thousand times have her die than have a partner who had a family that loved him.

“There was a doctor… I will never forget her face.” She told me I was a failure, that someone in a wheelchair was nothing anymore, that I was wasting valuable Navy resources that could be used on soldiers who would go back into combat, I… I can’t take it anymore.” Kay paused, taking a deep breath.

Leah hugged her tightly, unable to hold back her tears. “God, Kay… I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

“I don’t want you to see me as a victim, Leah.” Kay rested her forehead on Leah’s shoulder. “I just want to be someone who deserves… something.”

“You deserve everything, Kay. And I’m here to remind you of that every day.”

Despite everything, Kay began to find small moments of peace in her life with Leah. They began to spend more time together, sharing stories and laughing despite the circumstances.

One night, as Leah read a book on the couch, Kay leaned into her, resting her head on her shoulder. Leah smiled and set the book aside, putting an arm around Kay.

“You know?” —Leah said after a while. —I never thought I'd find someone I wanted to share so much with.

Kay looked up, surprised by the confession. —And me?

—You're that person, Kay. My person, my forever.

For the first time in a long time, Kay felt like maybe, just maybe, she had a place in the world where she truly belonged.

[meazalykov]

tis the season

lea schuller x nwsl!reader

summary: surprises are apart of the christmas holiday

for @katelynnwrites

it’s two weeks before christmas when you make the final arrangements to fly back to munich.  

the lie comes easily when you’re on the phone with lea, her voice soft and slightly tired after a long training day.

“i wish i could come,” you say, shifting on your couch as you stare at the tickets on your coffee table. 

“but the pride has me doing all this promotional stuff… media shoots, a kid’s camp, the whole thing. you know how the off-season is over here in america.”

lea hums on the other end, a pause where you can tell she’s disappointed but trying to understand. “it’s okay,” she replies, though her voice says otherwise. “i know you’re busy.”

“you’re mad,” you tease lightly, trying to keep things playful so she doesn’t linger on it too much.

“i’m not mad,” she sighs, but you can practically see the pout on her face through the phone. 

“i just miss you. christmas is better with you here.”

its time likes this when you regret leaving germany to pursue the more competitive league. yes, you weren't getting much play time at bayern (now being a starter for orlando and winning the league and championship) but at least you had your lea there with you.

“i miss you too, sonnenschein,” you reply softly, a pang of guilt settling in your chest. 

you’re lying to lea, but for a good reason—one she’ll never see coming.

getting obi on board with your plan was surprisingly easy.

“so you’re telling me you’re flying back to propose to lea,” she says when you call her later that evening. you can practically hear the grin on her face.

“yeah,” you laugh nervously. “she has no idea. i’m gonna need your help sneaking around though… like a lot of help. can i stay at yours when i get in? i just need her to not know i’m there until christmas eve.”

“obviously,” obi replies immediately. 

“this is gonna be so fun. she’s gonna kill me when she finds out i knew, but it’ll be worth it.”

“she’ll forgive you,” you grin.

obi laughs. “maybe. just don’t mess up the proposal, y/n.”

“not a chance,” you say confidently, though your heart starts pounding at the thought of the big moment.

when you arrive in munich two days before christmas eve, obi picks you up from the airport. the cold air hits you immediately, a stark contrast to florida’s weather, but it doesn’t bother you. 

the city feels like home, even though you left for the opportunities in the nwsl. your chest tightens a little as you pass familiar streets and shops on the way to obi’s apartment.

“she thinks you’re still in orlando, right?” obi asks as she pulls your suitcase into her building’s elevator.

“yep,” you confirm, stretching your arms after the long flight. 

“we talked last night. she said she’s just decorating and baking for her christmas party. apparently she invited half the bayern team.”

obi grins. “you’ll have quite the audience, then.”

“i’m not nervous about the crowd,” you lie, though your stomach flips just thinking about it.

“i’ll believe that when i see it,” obi teases, unlocking her apartment door. 

“just keep quiet while we’re here. she’ll come looking for me eventually, and i’m a terrible liar.”

“got it,” you reply, plopping onto her couch. “and thanks again for this.”

“anything for my bestfriend and her lover,” obi says dramatically, earning an eye roll from you. but you smile anyway.

it’s christmas eve, two hours into lea’s party, when you arrive at the building you once called home. obi’s beside you, grinning like an accomplice in a heist. you take a deep breath as you stare up at the lit windows of lea’s apartment. 

inside, you can hear music playing and faint bursts of laughter—probably giulia or sydney causing chaos.

“ready?” obi asks, handing you a santa hat to wear.

“ready,” you exhale.

obi opens the door, and the warmth hits you immediately as you step inside. for a moment, you’re frozen in place. the room is full of people—some of your old teammates, like tuva and giulia, as well as other familiar faces from bayern. 

sydney spots you first, her face lighting up in pure shock as she nudges giulia beside her.

“y/n?!” sydney shouts, grabbing everyone’s attention. all at once, heads turn your way, and chaos ensues.

“are you kidding me?” giulia shrieks, pulling you into a hug that nearly knocks you over.

“what are you doing here?!” sydney adds, squeezing your arm as she laughs.

“merry christmas?” you offer, grinning as tuva joins the dogpile of hugs. you’re swarmed by familiar faces, everyone excited and surprised to see you back in munich.

across the room, by the tv, you finally spot lea. she’s standing there frozen, eyes wide, her lips slightly parted in disbelief. you can’t help but laugh at her stunned expression.

“did you know about this?” lea asks obi, her voice loud enough to carry over the chatter.

obi raises her hands defensively. “maybe,” she replies with a smirk.

lea gives her a light punch on the shoulder, shaking her head with a small smile.

when you’re finally done greeting everyone, you turn your focus to her. the room seems to blur as you make your way over, her eyes never leaving yours.

“hi,” you say softly, pulling her into a hug. she holds you tightly, her face buried in your shoulder as she exhales shakily.

“you lied to me,” she murmurs into your ear, though her voice holds no anger—just relief.

“i did,” you admit, kissing her temple. 

“but it was for a good reason.”

she pulls back slightly to look at you, eyes narrowed playfully. 

“you’re lucky i love you.”

“i know,” you grin, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before leading her toward the couch.

the evening feels like stepping back into a life you still hold close to your heart. you sit beside lea, your legs tangled as the two of you share cookies from a festive tray. her hand rests lazily on your knee as sam and georgia argue over which holiday movie to put on. 

the room smells like cinnamon and pine, the soft hum of laughter filling the spaces between conversations.

it’s like you never left.

after a while, when the last of lea’s guests filter out just after midnight, you watch as she shuts the door, her movements slow as if the weight of the evening is finally catching up with her.

you finally got to say goodbye to obi, who gave you a hidden smirk before walking about the door. 

“i didn’t think i’d see you this christmas,” she says softly, turning to face you. her smile is small but filled with warmth.

“i didn’t want to miss it,” you reply, standing up to meet her in the center of the living room. the apartment feels quiet now, the twinkle lights casting a soft glow across the space.

she steps closer, her arms wrapping around your waist. 

“well, i’m glad you’re here.”

you take a deep breath, your heart pounding as you reach for her hands, gently pulling them away so you can hold them in yours. she frowns slightly, confused by the sudden seriousness in your expression.

“i need to talk to you about something,” you say quietly, meeting her gaze.

“go ahead,” lea swallows nervously.

“lea… ever since i met you back in 2020, i knew you’d be someone important to me,” you begin, your voice steady but soft. 

“at first, it was just your smile—you were so confident, so full of life when you came from essen while I came from freiburg. then i got to know you a bit more as the first season together went on, and i realized just how special you are. you’re strong, lea. not just on the pitch, but as a person. you always take care of everyone else, even when you don’t have to. you have the biggest heart, and you love so deeply… being with you has made me better in every way.”

you pause to take a breath, feeling the emotion swell in your chest. lea’s eyes are wide, her hands squeezing yours tightly. you can see the tears already gathering at the edges of her lashes, but she doesn’t say anything—she just lets you speak.

“even after i left for orlando, even with the distance, we’ve stayed strong. you’ve been my home, no matter where i am. and i want to make that official. i want to spend the rest of my life with you, lea.”

you release one of her hands to reach behind you, pulling the small velvet box from your pocket. your heart pounds as you slowly drop to one knee, your gaze never leaving hers.

lea gasps softly, her hands covering her mouth. you smile up at her, your typical confident smirk softening into something far more tender.

“so,” you say, voice light but full of emotion, “will you marry me, sonnenschein?”

“you’re… you’re insane,” she breathes, reaching into her jogger pocket. your eyes widen as she pulls out her own velvet box, and suddenly she’s dropping to one knee as well.

you freeze, blinking at her in disbelief. 

“lea, what…?”

she laughs softly, tears brimming in her eyes as she mirrors your position. 

“you think you’re the only one who plans things, liebe?” her voice is shaky, her smile trembling as she opens the box in her hands, revealing a ring that catches the warm glow of the twinkle lights.

“i’ve been carrying this for weeks,” she admits, her cheeks flushed. 

“i thought about waiting until you came back to munich for the next international break… but now you’re here. and i don’t want to wait anymore.”

there’s a moment where neither of you say anything, both of you kneeling on the living room floor, tears streaming down your faces as you stare at each other. your heart is pounding so hard you think she can hear it.

“so,” she continues, her voice soft, steady despite her shaking hands, 

“if you’ll marry me… then yes, y/n, i’ll marry you.”

“you’re proposing to me while i’m proposing to you?” you choke out, a watery laugh escaping as you wipe at your face.

“looks like it,” she grins through her tears.

you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re both laughing and crying, holding each other as the rings sit forgotten between you. you pull back just enough to look at her, cupping her face as you whisper, “yes, sonnenschein. a thousand times yes.”

“and yes to you, liebe,” she replies, leaning in to press her forehead against yours.

your hands are trembling as you both reach for the rings, and you can’t help but laugh when neither of you can slide them on properly at first. “stop shaking!” you tease, though you’re no better, fumbling with her finger as you finally slide the ring into place.

“you’re shaking too,” she fires back, laughing as she slips the band onto your hand with care. for a moment, you both just stare at each other’s hands, the weight of the moment settling in.

“we’re really doing this,” you whisper.

“we are,” she murmurs, smiling softly.

you don’t know who leans in first, but the kiss that follows is deep, filled with every unspoken word, every long mile you’ve spent apart, and every promise of the future you’re now building together. 

when you finally pull away, your cheeks are wet, her eyes shining as she looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“merry christmas, y/n,” she whispers.

“merry christmas, lea,” you reply, your voice soft, steady, and full of love.

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