#HOWEVER i do think she was prepared to solidify her concerns and how she feels now

[chirpsythismorning]

📝 💐 🛼 💔⏪️💭🧊🌄❤️‍🩹

More Than Words by Extreme

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[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Hello i saw you were taking requests maybe? could you do one with canon levi where him and fem!reader get into a fight and she thinks hes going to leave her and he has to comfort her but in his own levi way of comforting because hes awkward

"because he's awkward" LMAO

i actually had a flare-up the other day and ran into this exact situation with my partner so you bet i channeled all my irl angst into this

Just Go | Levi Hurt/Comfort Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 2.8k ✧ notes ➼ only lightly proofread because i'm sleep deprived ✧ warnings: some mentions of maladaptive coping mechanisms

“Give me a break already,” Levi said with an irritated groan. “I’m sick of this shit.”

Although you had essentially written an entire paper in your head to prove your point, that had gone flying out the window after he spoke. 

I’m sick of this shit.

At that point, you could no longer recall what it was that you two were arguing over. Your mind fixated on that one phrase he had just muttered at you. It had taken you all of your energy to even gather the courage to bring it up and he dismissed it within minutes, and ended the conversation saying that he was sick of it, sick of you.

Your mind and body froze. Your skin paled as your hands grew cold and clammy. You felt your heart drop at the realization of what this meant. This was his way of saying that it was over. It might not have solidified yet, but you knew that it was coming.

You immediately looked down to the ground and took a step back. Any energy you had gathered to continue this conversation immediately dissipated. 

“Okay,” you whispered with a small nod as you continued to step backwards.

You weren’t able to see a concerned look enter Levi’s eyes as he watched you immediately withdraw. He had expected a prolonged and irritating conversation. He had been expecting it for weeks, he just didn’t expect it to be brought up now—but it did get brought up and he didn’t expect you to back down so quickly. He stared at you for a few seconds, wondering what was going on in your head. Were you thinking of what to say? Did you change your mind?

You heard his silence as you continued to withdraw. Using this as confirmation of your fears, you immediately turned around and walked out the door onto the balcony of your shared apartment.

You waited a few seconds outside, holding agonizingly still as you waited for Levi to come follow—but he didn’t. 

You buried your face in your hands, gripping at your hair as memories of your life together with Levi ran through your head. You remembered him literally picking you up off of the streets and rescuing you from the thugs you were running from in the Underground. You remembered him going out of the way, before and after every expedition, to ensure that you were safe and that you knew that he was safe. You remembered all of his little acts of service to take care of you when you were feeling down or feeling sick. 

You remembered every little thing that would disappear the minute he finally decided to leave you.

Over the next few days, your mind was murky. Although you were still able to get up and about and seem somewhat functional, that wasn’t how you felt. You felt as if the world was blurred around you and that you were watching yourself move as if you were in a vivid dream that you had no control over. The only thing that you could hear clearly was that little voice in your own head that kept telling you that Levi was preparing to leave.

You couldn’t stand to be around him. That was the one thing that kept you from hiding in bed and ignoring the world. The more you were in the house, the more you had to see him. The more you had to see him, the more it was going to hurt when he finally left. You were waiting for that other shoe to drop and you wanted to be as emotionally removed as you could when it happened.

However, completely avoiding him was impossible. After all, you did share an apartment.

Thus, the both of you found yourselves at the dinner table without saying a word. This had become a norm over the past few days. The unending silence that seemed to scream into your ears had become something you were expecting. On normal days, that silence didn’t bother you. Both you and Levi were content in each other’s presence on stressful days as you shared a meal together and steal whatever little time you had to be able to actually spend time with each other—but this was not that.

You were ripped out of your thoughts as you heard a sigh.

“You haven’t been eating,” Levi spoke up, watching as you poked at the now cold vegetables on your plate.

You hadn’t noticed it yourself, but your boyfriend certainly did. He had noticed that you never got up early in time for breakfast anymore and that when you did sit down to eat, it took you 30 minutes to eat 2-3 bites. It was very likely that you hadn’t even had a full meal since your fight.

“_____,” he spoke again, agitation entering his voice.

You continued to poke at your vegetables with zero intention of consuming them.

Levi sighed as he pushed his own plate to the side.

“What the hell is going on with you? You’ve been in and out all week, barely saying a word to me.”

Your presence when he arrived home, your smile when he saw you for the first time after getting home, and your soothing voice that welcomed him home were just a few of the gestures that he had come to love about you. It was a comforting constant in his life that he cherished. It was a source of comfort that was currently nowhere to be found. 

“If you’re gonna go, just go,” you said quietly without looking up at him.

“Hah?” he muttered out, making a confused expression at you. He wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard you correctly or what it was that you were referring to.

“Stop beating around the bush already,” you said with your voice slowly becoming more audible. “It’s agonizing. If you’re going to go, just go.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he finally responded.

Your fist was clenched around the fork you had been using and you felt yourself begin to tremble. You weren’t sure if it was due to anger, anxiety, or a mix of both.

“Isn’t that why you’ve been out of the house so much recently? Why you’ve been on a rigid cycle of sleep, eat, work? Why I b-barely see you-”

You stopped talking once you noticed your own voice start to break. You felt heat rise to your face as tears began to gather at the corners of your eyes. You finally looked up at him, scowling when you saw him simply staring at you.

“You said yourself that you’re sick of this—sick of me,” you said as you dropped your fork and gripped at the table in frustration. “So quit beating around the bush already. If you’re going to leave, then leave.”

Levi’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. Out of all of the reasons he had hypothesized over why you were acting the way you were, this was not one of them. He quickly shut his mouth again.

While he was annoyed that these thoughts were going through your mind, he could understand why they were there. Like him, you haven’t exactly had the best of luck in keeping people around you. Everyone either died, left, or disappeared. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t plagued with those same thoughts. That was why, no matter how annoyed he was at this situation, he couldn’t find himself to be mad at you for it. He felt his heart grow heavy, knowing that his own avoidant behavior over the past few days contributed to those chaotic thoughts brewing in your mind. He knew that something was wrong from the minute that you withdrew from the argument, and cursed at himself silently for not even approaching you or asking what was wrong until now.

At this point, you had looked away again. He felt his own blood run cold as he saw your trembling. Although you had averted your eyes, he knew that there were tears building up behind them. 

He hated when you cried.

It wasn’t because he thought it was annoying or stupid or any of that. He hated it because he would blame himself for not being able to stop it. He especially hated it when he was the one that caused it. He was supposed to be a source of strength, support, and comfort to you, so the fact that he made you cry made him feel like a failure in every regard.

You continued to look down, desperately trying to hold back the tears that were now threatening to fall. You kept on repeating to yourself that you wanted more than anything for him to get up and walk out the door so you don’t have to see him anymore. You kept on saying that to yourself.

Yet, the thought of it was agonizing. The thought of him leaving and never coming back and you never being able to see him or embrace him again literally made you feel like you were carving your own heart out with a butterknife or that you were suffocating at the bottom of the ocean. The thought of him leaving was even more agonizing.

As you continued to imagine living on your own in a world that had taken everything from you, the tears finally fell and you took a sharp inhale that was interrupted as your crying destabilized your breathing. You covered your face in your hands, desperately trying to hide yourself, even though you knew it was futile.

You weren’t sure when he got up or when he started making his way to you or when he knelt down next to you so that you could be at eye contact, but you felt him gently place his hand on your thigh, providing a gentle squeeze to indicate that he was there.

“I’m not going to leave you, _____,” he whispered quietly.

You felt your lower lip quivering as your emotions built up in your chest. All the grief you had held for the past few days came bursting out as you shrunk down, shutting your eyes tightly.

He waited for a few seconds without moving or saying anything, simply waiting for you to let it out. He knew how agonizing it must have been for you to have held this in for the past week or so.

After your breathing had stabilized more, you peeked at him through your fingers. His gray eyes stared straight into yours. His normally expressionless facial features were softer as he glanced at you, his eyes more focused onto you compared to how he usually was. You were able to see the pain that he was holding upon knowing that he had hurt you and failed to recognize it.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all week?” he asked quietly.

A small chuckle escaped from your lips. You removed your hands and wiped away the remaining tears that had gathered on your cheeks while you were holding your face.

“Haven’t you been avoiding me?”

You weren’t wrong, and he wasn’t either. The both of you had been more avoidant towards each other throughout the past week. You avoided him to try to dampen the devastation that you would feel when you thought he would leave. He avoided you, believing that you were still mad at him, and that you just needed space. Both of these factors added onto each other, enhancing the pain and grief harbored within the both of you.

He shot you a half-smile as he slowly stood up, grabbing at your hand to help you stand.

“Come,” he said, motioning towards the balcony. “Let’s get some air.”

~~~~~

The two of you leaned on the balcony, looking down at the now silent streets around you. While there were plenty of people, horses, and carriages moving around during the day, it was now dead silent after the sun had gone down.

Levi looked over towards you and saw that you carried a sad and defeated look on your face as you glanced down. He watched as you gently rubbed at your own eyes, which were swollen from your crying.

He placed his hand on your shoulder and gently turned you towards him so he could see you better.

“Is it something I said?”

Levi was genuinely astonished that you thought he would leave you. The thought never even crossed his mind, it was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d rather jump outside the walls without any blades or mobility gear than to even think about leaving you.

You continued to look down as you slightly shook your head.

“Hey,” he said, lifting your chin so that he could look into your eyes. “Talk to me.” 

He didn’t believe you. You had shaken your head to say no, but he knew that was a lie.

You looked into his eyes, placing your hand on his, gently squeezing to remind yourself that he was still there. You tried to think of how to even begin explaining why you felt the way that you felt, but only felt your heart rate and anxiety increasing. You were embarrassed over how you had gotten so activated by something that wasn’t even a problem. You immediately assumed it was over without even trying to check and see if that was the case.

He gave you a worried look as he saw you struggle to find a response.

“_____,” he said your name, trying his best to pull you out of your head.

“I…” you parted your lips to speak without any real idea of what you were trying to say. “I don’t even really remember. It was so blurry and quick and fast. I remember I was scared to talk to you about something and then my heart dropped once I said it.”

Levi never took his eyes off of you as you spoke, your speaking getting faster and faster as you continued to ramble. Every time he opened his own mouth to speak went unnoticed as you continued laying out every step of your thought pattern.

“And you just got more agitated and I never want to make you feel like you have to deal with me because I already know I’m a burden and then you said that you were sick of this and I thought that since I was the one that started the fight, that you were sick of me, and then-”

Before you could continue on for another 20 minutes over all of the thoughts that had built up in your head, you felt Levi pull you in and press his lips against yours, holding you close.

Your thoughts immediately went from richoting off of each other in rapid fire to absolutely nothing at all as soon as you felt him on you.

You returned the kiss, leaning into him, and he refused to let you go until he felt you finally relax into him.

He pulled away ever so slightly while holding you close to him.

“I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was going to leave,” he whispered to you. “You know I never think of you as a burden.”

He pulled you in, having your head rest on his shoulder as he wrapped his other arm around you. His hand found its way into your hair, providing you that small sense of comfort that you got every morning when he ran his hand through your hair before you were fully awake. 

You buried your face further into him, taking comfort in his presence. After avoiding him for around a week, you felt like you needed him on you now more than ever.

He spoke again, whispering right into your ear. His voice was barely audible. Even a gust of wind could’ve muffled it—but that’s what made him feel so close. It made you feel like you would never have to worry about losing him again as he kept his hold on you tight.

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear, “and that’s never going to change.”

He felt you grip at him tighter as you tried to pull him in even closer although you were already fully in his embrace.

He slightly pulled away so that he could see your eyes, shooting you a small smile when he sees that you’ve relaxed and calmed.

“No matter how much of a pain in the ass you can be sometimes,” he said with a smirk.

Before you could come up with your own clever response, he pulled you into another soft, gentle, intimate kiss, with his hand gently resting on the side of your face to keep you close to him and you shut your eyes, allowing yourself to get fully lost in his presence and embrace.

A/N: hope you liked! tysm for beginning to send requests in ♡

[homunculusalphonse]

You know, I've compared Connie to Sadie (and Sapphire) before, but I just now realized how similar she also is to Lars.

[IDs: From left to right, Connie and Lars crying, talking about their loneliness. /End IDs]

Connie and Lars start out as lonely characters. Neither of them have friends besides Steven and Sadie respectively. Connie, however, is a lot more introverted, while Lars does his best to socialize with the Cool Kids, yet pretending to be someone he isn't. Even then, both of them really care about outside opinions, hence why Connie, for instance, doesn't like dancing in front of other people, and Lars for most of the show hides his baking - which is not because of skill, but because of what it represents to him.

And then you have their roles in Steven's life. Connie thinks Steven's "magical destiny" is amazing, while Lars doesn't think much of it. But regardless of their feelings, they become more and more involved with it, to the point of their lives being at risk multiple times. Connie is more prepared to fight back while Lars spends most of the time running away from conflict. Though what I think solidifies their similarities is their big moments alongside Steven on Homeworld.

Besides being stuck in a prison to starve (even if she's very familiar with being grounded, obviously that is still messed up), Connie has to fight the mindless bodies of the Crystal Gems, and she's forced to watch White Diamond remove Steven's gem out of his body without being able to do anything. Connie is the only one who can help Steven reach out to his gem self. And as far as we're concerned, Connie is also the only one who knows about all this, since the gems don't have any memories of it, and Bismuth, Peridot and Lapis only arrive when everything is already solved. It's likely that Steven never told them, and I don't think Connie has, either. Unfortunately, on screen, we never see how much her experiences affected her. Connie is even younger than Steven and she also went through a lot. Not to mention she's basically the only one who stands up for Steven in Future, being the voice of reason while the gems could only pity themselves.

Similarly, Lars is also helpless during The Trial, unable to even hear anything given his head was inside a bubble. Lars had even less context of Homeworld here, while Connie had more experience. Still, like her, he also had to throw himself in danger to protect Steven and the Off Colors, who were all going to be killed for merely existing. While yes, that's a big character development for Lars, and I'm proud of him for sticking up for people he barely knew, it's also tragic that a human teenager with no powers and fighting skills ended up saving everyone, at the cost of his own life. He also becomes the mature voice of reason for standing up for Steven and letting him go back home without him for Steven's safety. Hell, Lars was willing to end up alone in the Kindergarten so everyone else could go to Earth.

Lars says, "You brought me back to life! Just let me be somebody who deserved it". I can't help but remember Connie internalizing she should prioritize Steven's life over hers in Sworn to the Sword. At the very least, she's eventually taught to fight alongside him instead of sacrificing herself for him. Interestingly, like Lars becomes the captain of the Off Colors, Connie briefly becomes the leader in The New Crystal Gems. She's not patient like Steven is, but she shows herself to be organized and calculating, and she's not afraid to put the gems in their place, as we see later in Future.

If anything, I feel like Lars would get along well with Connie. Although they're insecure, they're not afraid to call something or someone out when they have to (Connie snaps at Steven for minimizing the danger they were in way back in Bubble Buddies, for that matter!). They also realize how unfair the gems (and Homeworld in general) are towards Steven - Lars gets to see Steven's most vulnerable side when they were kidnapped, realizing how afraid he really is underneath, so he insists that Steven needs to be safe first and foremost. Connie rightfully calls the gems out in The New Crystal Gems, and later on in I Am My Monster, because no one has ever actually sticked up for Steven all these years. No one has dedicated themselves for him the same way he does for everyone.

Basically, Lars would be a great ally to Connie, especially when it comes to Steven. Again, I always felt it was unfair that a young girl was the only one who snapped the gems out of their pity party. I know she already had Greg as a human ally in the middle of the gem stuff, but she could definitely get some use of Lars' no-nonsense attitude, too. She could confide in him with her fears and trauma, knowing she's not entirely alone.

In short: Connie and Lars are Steven's best friends. You can't convince me otherwise. /half-joking

[imaginewriting1]

flying

Ariana Grande x youtuber!reader

Part 9 of "positions"

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 5.5 (1) | 5.5 (2) | 5.5.5 | 6 | 7 | 7.5 | 8 | 8.5

“Gravity is matter’s response to loneliness.” - (By someone) Alice Wu (had forgotten)

The way Ariana mentioned her concert weeks ago, vaguely and casually, made you think it was a relatively small event. This assumption was further solidified when Ariana found an easy solution to her PR manager’s concerns, by suggesting that you bring Olivia along. This way, attention would be diverted away from your relationship with Ariana.

So imagine your shock when you found yourself in one of the studio rooms in Staples Center, watching Ariana run through her choreography.

“I can’t believe BTS was sitting beside us just five minutes ago,” Olivia exclaimed. “Even I can’t get access to this kind of experience that easily. These backstage passes are the best.”

You looked down at the pass Ariana had placed around your neck after the security checks. “Technically, they are staff passes.”

Olivia leaned towards you and half-whispered conspiratorially, “Even better, imagine all the restricted places we can go that a fan can’t. Maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of them again.” 

“Well, knock yourself out. Bring back any goodies or souvenirs you find.” 

“Don’t I always? Be right back.” After a quick hug, Olivia left with gleeful steps.

If you were the person before, you would entertain her idea. Hell, you would probably have come up with it, sneaking around with her to check out the place and people around. However, now at the moment, you were content watching Ariana dance.

Even with a flurry of female dancers surrounding her, your eyes seemed to fixate solely on Ariana. You observed the way she moved, and how her dancers shifted along with her. At a particular moment, one of them corrected the placements of her thighs.

The slightest strain of irk shot through you, immediately shifting into alarm. You shouldn’t have felt this way every time the dancers came into contact with her.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when a shadow was cast over you. Looking up, you found Ariana staring at you inquisitively. You looked away in embarrassment, not wanting your face to give away anything.

“What’s wrong?”

There was a “nothing” sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you hate to lie, especially to her. You let out a sigh, “I just found out that I don’t like it when someone else touches you and I’m not.” Ariana’s eyebrow shot up, mouth opening to say something, but you stopped her she could. “I know, I have no right to feel this way, much less at people who are just doing their jobs.”

The look on her face transformed into a pensive one. You sat there like a kid caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do, waiting fearfully for the consequences. With your eyes downcast, you did not notice Ariana moving closer until her hands came into view to cup your cheeks.

With the way she leaned in closer, you thought she was going to sit on your lap. However, she stopped at bringing her face to yours. In such close proximity, you couldn’t duck your head to hide it even if you wanted to. “It’s okay to feel that way, as long as you don’t act upon them.” She said diplomatically, reminding you of your therapist. Moving towards your ear, she continued, “But you don’t have to be jealous. I only want your touch.” Her lips grazed the shell of your ear, “and you can do so, however much you want, tonight.”

She turned around before you could react, walked back to where the dancers were and went back to formation again. You spent the time looking away whenever Ariana shot a wink over. 

After an hour, someone informed Ariana to prepare for the upcoming full dress rehearsal. Everyone got ready to make their way to the stage. All you did was carry Toulouse while you followed around Ariana cluelessly.

Olivia doesn’t return in time, but you don’t worry, knowing your friend would have no trouble finding her way around. As for you, being Ariana’s “staff”, you were put in charge of overseeing her performance. So you were situated at the standing pen, observing everyone prepare. 

When she faced your direction, you turn your head to see who she was looking at. You only realized that it was you when she tried to hide her smile behind her hand.

You felt compelled to move when she made her way towards you as quickly as she could in her black ball gown.

You met her at the edge of the stage where she had squatted down, her hands draped across your shoulders. “Tell me how the whole thing looks from the audience.” 

Her voice rose at the end, making it sound like a request. Tilting your head up, you replied, “It looks spectacular. Especially your dress and the orchestra at the back. Show-stopping material.” 

The smile you were rewarded with was brighter than the spotlights above. “I have to go get the show on the road then,” Ariana said, playing with the baby hairs behind your neck. “Can’t wait to blow your mind.”

If not for the split-second glint in her eyes, you would have been fooled by her angelic aura. For the second time, she shifted closer towards you, only to jerk backward, as though she was catching herself from doing something. You didn’t have this realization at that time, more concerned with Ariana losing her balance.

Your torso hit the stage as you surged forward, arms extended in an attempt to act like a wall or some sort of safety net.

The heart-dropping sensation only subsided when she stopped wobbling. However, in the absence of adrenaline and fear, a throbbing pain grew sharper around your kneecaps.

“You good?” You asked in a voice you hoped would sound casual, ignoring the ache.

Her words shook a little when she spoke. “Y-yeah,” She cleared her throat, looking away while doing so, “I’m fine. Are you okay? I heard a thud.”

Your arms went back to your side. “I’m okay. Nothing I can’t handle. I’m just glad I’m not responsible for breaking Ariana Grande’s bones.” You let out a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood. It worked, with Ariana returning one. From the corner of your eyes, you saw someone motioning towards you and Ariana. “Looks like everyone is good to go. I shouldn’t keep you any longer then.”

Ariana’s head swiveled around, seeing the same things you witnessed. “Right. I’ll see you after the show.” She paused a little, teeth sinking lightly into her lips like she was in contemplation. A slight shake of her head told you she was dismissing whatever thought she had. Instead, she stood up slowly and headed back to the center of the stage. Your hands went back up to their earlier position, poised in front of you until you were sure there was no possibility of her falling.

-

The lights dimmed slowly before a sudden beam shone solely on the singer. As the orchestra moved collectively, the notes started stringing together into your favorite song of hers.

You thought hearing Ariana sing up close before showed you how amazing a performer she was, and how she would be the same for this concert.

You could not have been more wrong in your life. It was not the same when there was fancy lighting that made her shine even brighter than you thought possible, the accompanying live orchestra and her voice, god, her voice reverberating around an empty stadium - so raw and powerful and controlled and freeing - changing pitch and notes as easily as breathing, making every song better than you could have ever imagined. 

It was utterly disbelieving how she could sound so heavenly and could carry a myriad of emotions in her voice. You could only shake your head in awe when she pulled off yet another high note, smiling when she did after the ending of each song. 

It was an experience that could not be compared to any other, no other concerts could ever be the same as this one - the closest thing to a private show you could ever get. You knew people would pay tens or hundreds of thousands for this priceless experience you had gotten for free.

Maybe you should change your career. Ariana Grande’s personal assistant or bodyguard doesn't sound bad at all.

“You should close your mouth before a fly gets in there.” A familiar voice nudged you back to reality. 

Smiling at Olivia’s tease, you replied, “The security here is so tight I don’t think insects are even allowed to enter. By the way, you just missed the best performance you’ll ever see today, or possibly even your whole life.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows. “I would disagree and say that BTS’s rehearsal was the best I’ve seen but you wouldn’t know since you spent the whole time staring at your girl.” You watched as her face softened into a smile knowingly. “Better make me your maid of honor.”

In that instance, you realized that you still haven't told Olivia the truth. “About that-”

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but Ariana has requested your presence.” The both of you looked up to find Max and a practically cleared stage for the next act. You gestured for him to lead the way. 

Upon entering Ariana’s dressing room, she exclaimed happily at the sight of you. “Hey! What do you think of my performance?” She jumped up from her seat to give you a hug. You wrapped your arms around her to return it.

“It was amazing, truly. Never seen anything more spectacular.” You sank into her embrace. “I think there are tears in my eyes for how beautiful it was.”

“Thank you.” Her giggles caused goosebumps to form on your arms, and you realized that it was how she sounded when she was truly happy. You were glad to be a part of it.

“Need me to give you two the room?”

Ariana only pulled away at the sound of Olivia’s cough. She clapped her hands like she had an idea she wanted to share. “How about I take you guys around instead?”

“Uh, Olivia already-” Your mouth was muffled by said friend. She shot you a look before moving her hand away slowly.

Didn’t think I have to wingwoman you with someone you already have.

Oh. Good idea.

“We would be honored,” Olivia spoke on your behalf.

“Great, give me a minute to change.”

After she did, the three of you started touring around the stadium. You were sandwiched between them when Olivia linked arms with you and Ariana followed suit. Being in that position, you felt curious stares averting your way as you were basically dragged around. You shot apologetic smiles to those who had to make way for you three - similar to when the popular girls in school, sashaying down the hallway.

All in all, you met some of the performing acts, learned the seating plan of invitees, and walked down the red carpet. It was satisfying to experience something you never thought you could. 

“-and that’s pretty much it. It isn’t as magical as they make it out on TV.” Ariana concluded the tour when you arrived back where you started. “Since we’re done for the day, do you have any plans for the rest of it?” 

“We have our biweekly movie nights today.” You replied. “Do you want to join us? It’s at my place.”

Ariana beamed, “You can drive.”

-

Today could be arguably one of the best days of your life. A quiet night of watching a movie with people you love after an exciting day.

You, Olivia, and Ariana were lazing all over your couch. Since you were in the middle, again, their legs overlapped on your lap underneath blankets and pillows. A scatter of takeout boxes lay on the tables, providing sustenance and some sort of distraction from a psychological thriller playing on the portable screen. 

You don’t know why they chose this film when it scares the shit out of them, bumping their arms into yours whenever there is a particularly loud noise. Their jerky movements caused your heart to stop more than the film's sound effects. So you decided to play a game of taking a bite of food every time someone screamed or used you as a wall.

Maybe you should choose the films next time instead of being the gracious host. 

When the movie finally ended, you instinctively shifted your weight to stretch. But when you heard soft intelligible murmurings against the curve where your neck meets your shoulders, your movements slowed to a standstill. 

“She fell asleep, didn’t she?” Olivia whispered. You hummed a response as opposed to nodding your head. “I guess our usual sleepover is off.”

“You can still stay tonight if you want. Share the bed with Ariana. I’ll take the couch.” You said, after tucking Ariana beneath your duvet covers and returning to your potential sleeping area for the night.

“You want me to share the bed with her?” Olivia shot you a confused look which turned into what you recognized as her teasing smile. “You aren’t afraid of me stealing her from you?”

The feeling that rose in you wasn’t the same possessive jealousy that gripped you earlier. It was a mellower, more gradual swell of helpless frustration; a reluctant acceptance that Ariana isn’t yours to lose. 

“Well if you do, it’s fair game. Since she is single.”

You would laugh at the way Olivia’s eyes go comically wide if you weren’t feeling like you’ve just watched a plot twist that made things worse for the protagonist - and you can only shout uselessly at the screen.

“What!?” Olivia half whispered, half exclaimed. Her hands flailed around to gesture her bewilderment. “But what about the constant staring, the touching? When you drove, her hand was on your knee the entire time. You two are like magnets.”

With a sigh, you told Olivia everything about your relationship with Ariana - from interviewee to friends with benefits. She’s patient enough not to interrupt with questions until you’re done.

“Well, I’m proud of you for trying something new.” She said, pausing with a slight frown. “But from what I’ve heard, it sounds awfully like you are pretty much in an actual relationship with her.” 

“Without feelings.” You supply subconsciously, regretting immediately after the words left your mouth.

Olivia stared at you long and hard. “Then why do you look at her like that?”

You asked dumbly. “Like what?”

“Like she’s a sunset you can’t look away from.”

It doesn’t hit you like a car with no brakes, since the statement only confirmed something you already knew deep down - it wasn’t just a crush anymore.

AN: early access to later chapters on my ko-fi page. Also feel free to DM or ask anonymously for any questions.

[lavendermin]

if all stars fell at once (2) | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 2.5k

genre | fluff, light angst, developing relationship, overall domestic

warnings | eventual smut

The moon was high behind the peaks of mountains; a deep navy sky clear in display of its many twinkling stars. Though the land was asleep, the crickets softly hummed their conversation and a few fireflies speckled the dark.

Perhaps it’s your high spirits at the change of routine and tender moment under falling stars, but the scenery around you has never looked more magical.

“If you continue to stare up at the sky while you walk, you’ll lose your footing and fall.”

You turned around at Xiao’s comment, face still alight with a grin you were sure made you look like a giddy child. The faint smile on his lips gave away his amusement.

“And if I do, will you be there to catch me?”

“Anywhere, anytime,” Xiao reassured, arms crossed over his chest.

Though it was a rhetorical question, the power his aura exuded as an adeptus solidified his words as not only a confirmation, but a promise.

Approaching the steps that lead further up the village to where your house was tucked away, you paused. Noticing this, Xiao looked up at you and was met with your outstretched hand— patient and waiting. His lips slightly parted in brief confusion, and the innocence his eyes held reminded you of a kitten curiously approaching something new.

Endearment. It pulled your heartstrings in the honeyed melody that had you in its audience.

There was brief hesitation. His gloved hand slowly settled into yours and he quietly allowed you to lead him up the stone steps of the winding hills. The warmth rose high on his cheeks, unnoticed by you as you led the way in your sleep-driven haze.

The exhaustion of the day seeped into your bones as you hobbled tiredly over to the familiar front door. Xiao watched attentively as you sluggishly fumbled around for a vase to hold your glaze lilies while getting ready for bed. Mortals were undeniably limited in their energy— always dependent on slumber and moments of rest to replenish and recharge their energy. However bothersome it seemed to Xiao before, seemed to have a change of heart upon seeing your switch in demeanor. It was… cute, and such thoughts filled him with the overwhelming need to just— hold you safely in his arms.

Gods… he was so touch starved and didn’t even know it. Such strange urges only served to further vex & confuse him.

Kneeling by your bedside, he pushed some hair out of your face. You were comfortably under a sea of blankets, the warmth of them quickly promising to have your wish come true. Through heavy lids, you gave him a goofy grin; mind aloof with lulls of sleep.

“Thank you for watching the stars with me.”

There you go again. Thanking him for such trivial and insignificant things. It flustered him. No— it made the fearsome Conqueror of Demons bashful.

“It’s nothing to thank me for,” Xiao uttered softly, fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair. You only hummed and relaxed into his touch in response, too tired to chide him.

“Did you mean it?” you groggily muttered from under your covers. “Wanting to get to know me more.”

Xiao nodded. “Rest now. We can talk later.”

The yaksha froze in his advances to leave, feeling the faintest tug on his sleeve.

“Stay… please, Xiao,” you begged weakly. “Just until I fall asleep.”

There was an uncharacteristic mix of fear and defeat in those words alone. It made his chest twinge with hurt. The wish you made earlier… Was sleep truly that difficult for you? He wondered what would impede your nights with restlessness. With a defeated sigh, the yaksha settled back next to you.

“Thank y–“ Xiao cut you off with a breathy chuckle, placing his hand over your eyes.

“Just sleep. I’ll stay.”

Not even two minutes had passed, yet you were already fast asleep. So, you were only keeping awake out of stubbornness… Somehow it no longer surprised him. Xiao watched as your breathing became steadier, face relaxed into your tranquil state of sleep.

Though the promise was only to stay until you were fast asleep, Xiao found himself unable to leave— unwilling to leave. To wish for enough sleep… it only left him wondering what the issue there was.

Perhaps a year ago he would have scoffed at the idea of trying to solve a human’s sleeping problem. My, how you've gotten him wrapped around your finger. Still, he sat in the dark room washed over by pale moonlight and stared absentmindedly at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. Were you a light sleeper? Or perhaps it was insomnia, though it would contradict how fast you fell asleep. The only other possibility he could consider was an external force that came to make a ruckus at night.

Part of him was fighting to just leave. It was none of his business to be a sleep therapist.

I wish to get to know you better.

The wish he made— though he didn’t believe in mortals’ naive, wishful thinking, he truly did want to know you better. That single want was the thread that bound him to his current disposition.

Before he knew it, he had already stayed an hour. Muffled whimpering pulled him out of his thoughts as he glanced back over to you. There was a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead as you shifted around. Your brows were furrowed in discomfort and face in a frown that shifted from fear to stress.

Ah. Nightmares.

Somehow the thought had escaped him, and now he was reminded of the unpredictability of mortal dreams.

Dream eater. That’s what he once was. The memories of his past, the dreams he painfully consumed, were enough to raise bile in his throat in a suffocating feeling. He wasn’t sure how to help you. Comforting others was never his strong suit and the thought of eating your dream… It made his hand tremble. In anticipation or fear, he couldn’t say.

The hesitation was clear, seeping into his movements as his hand slowly drew closer over your head.

“It’s… okay,” he quietly reassured, awkwardly patting your head in what he attempted to be a comforting motion. “I’m right here.”

Slowly, your face eased into a more relaxed state. Your breathing returned to a steady rhythm as you settled back into a restful sleep. Perhaps the nightmare had already subsided for the time being.

Xiao hadn’t realized until now how his shoulders stiffened with lingering worry, nor how he had held his breath to see your expression change. He scoffed inwardly at himself, rising from the bed and descending back into the night to continue his eternal back-and-forth with the karmic debt that hung over his shoulders.

“I’ve long gone past the point of no return.”

——

“Emissary Ganyu, what a pleasant surprise running into you today.” You warmly greeted the busy-bee secretary of Yuehai Pavilion. Her entrance to Bubu Pharmacy was graceful, and she warmly reciprocated the greeting.

Slight embarrassment dusted her cheeks as she privately added, “P-Please, the formality is a little… You don’t have to use the titles. I’m content with just being Ganyu when we meet.” She waved a hand dismissively at herself. “But I digress, what brings you here today?”

With a tired sigh and halfhearted smile, you gestured toward the box of medicine herbalist Gui was packing for you. “Nothing severe. I just ran out of medicine for headaches and remedies for stress.”

Ganyu’s expression softened with knowing concern. “Has sleep become an issue once again?”

You nodded, handing the herbalist what you owed with a grateful ‘thank you’. “Slept rather well last night at least. I feel fine today,” you reassure with a smile.

Being alive as long as she has, Ganyu has known your family for generations and witnessed all that has traversed them for as long as she can remember. The stresses that ail you— the sources of your sleeplessness— Ganyu knew them well.

The sole remaining descendant of your family. Perhaps she saw herself in you, and that’s why she kept her promise to your grandmother of being someone you could rely on.

“That’s a relief to hear,” Ganyu sighed, expression relaxing from its worry. “I came here to drop off licensing renewals and paperwork for Baizhu. If you’re feeling up to it, we can catch up with a quick lunch.”

Ever the busy-body, you mused fondly.

“I’d like that.”

Never a dull moment with her, Ganyu was quick to get you in step with her schedule flow. Luckily, you were rested enough to keep up with her today.

You anxiously fiddled with the napkin on your lap. “Isn't this a bit… much?”

Seated within the highly-regarded Liuli Pavilion, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place. Such enticing dishes laid out before you… smelled expensive. It wasn’t the first time you’d been brought to eat here with her, and though it was a rarity you were still never one to indulge too much in lavish luxury from the city.

“Not at all,” Ganyu wholeheartedly reassured. “It's my treat for such a rare occasion.”

“You spoil me, Gan…”

As you both idly chatted over delicately prepared meals, you couldn’t help but notice the not-so-subtle glances Ganyu would take toward your lap every now and then. With a half-hearted sigh and a growing smile that betrayed your feigned exasperation, you set down your utensils.

“Okay. Alright.” Ganyu’s eyes sparkled, already knowing you caved. “Just ask what you want.”

“The charm,” she started, eyes intently observing the small charm that dangled securely from your hip. Never one to miss something new about you. The attentiveness from the adeptal blood that flowed within her, presumably. “Where did you get it? Ah! Pardon my prying— I don’t mean to be nosy...”

With delicate fingers, you picked it up, eyes glossing over it. The beat of your heart picked up ever so slightly.

“It was a gift.”

Left next to the vase of glaze lilies, the glint of the charm catching the morning light drew your attention toward it. You delicately picked up the item, tracing the butterfly engraved on the wooden diamond with your fingertip. The piece of amber that dangled from it with an ornate tassel was warm on your palm.

A single note on a small piece of parchment laid next to it.

‘An adepti amulet to stave off evil. Should you need me, call my name.’

“Xiao…” Ganyu started, clasping your hand in hers. “He must truly consider you someone special. It’s not often he gives gifts— despite how surprisingly skilled he is in intricate crafts.”

Warm and fuzzy, your chest pounded with overwhelming emotion. A handmade amulet… It was beautiful in its simplicity, and carried meaning in its subtle details you had yet to decipher. You had to remember to thank him for it later.

“He’s a very gentle person. I’d also… like to get to know him better,” you absentmindedly mused, recalling that mysterious masked boy caught in the thundering rain all those months ago. Though reserved and self-guarded, Xiao was never anything but polite albeit a bit distanced for a while.

It seems they get along well together, Ganyu noted, gaze holding a tender fondness like one would with a sibling. Maybe this was the new walk of life you needed when all other roads were erased.

——

“Can’t I just-”

“No.”

You huffed through your nose, exasperated. “You’re being unfair.” Xiao only raised a brow in response.

“An adeptus prolonging your lifespan would be considered a divine blessing to any other mortal out there,” he countered, pushing you back into bed with a gentle nudge that you didn’t fight back. “Rest.”

Making me go to bed early is some divine blessing... Such sarcasm you would keep between yourself and your thoughts alone.

“Xiao, it’s only nine o’clock! The moon just barely appeared in the sky. And with the Lantern Rite just around the corner, I want to get as much of my part finished.” But your protests fell on deaf ears as he continued to diligently pile on any blankets he could get his hands on. With a defeated sigh, you allowed your body to sink more comfortably into the mattress. “Is something wrong?”

Your voice came quiet, the question lingering with worry as Xiao sat on the edge of the bed— his back facing you. Oftentimes it was still hard to tell what he was thinking, for there was a lot about his past that was unknown to you and it seemed to weigh heavily on his mind recently. He didn’t need to tell you for you to know there were things he wasn’t voicing— not without your encouragement and patient reassurance.

“Can I ask?” Xiao started, his voice rather quiet like he was afraid of overstepping a boundary. “Your nightmares— how often do they haunt you?”

You were taken aback. “A-Ah, you saw…?”

With a silent nod, the bed creaked as he readjusted himself to finally face you. “That night you told me to stay… You looked distressed in your sleep.”

“They only happen sometimes,” you reassured half-heartedly with a dismissive wave of your hand. The subtle, sharpened squint of his eyes told you he saw right through your downplay.

“Lies will do you no good. But in regards to them, I...”

Xiao paused, looking away briefly. The way he avoided your gaze, the jaded look in his amber eyes— there was something he was fighting with himself to say.

“I can get rid of them, if you wish it.”

You blinked, eyes widening slightly in confused curiosity. “You can… do that?”

At this point, you would take any method to end some of your daily exhaustion. But the way his hands balled into fists at his lap suggested he didn’t have a good history with it. Still, he nodded, his eyes closed as he concentrated on grounding himself— convincing himself to tell you. Now that he had propositioned it, there was no turning back. He had to explain it but the memories—the screams— they stopped the words at his throat.

His mind was going a mile a minute in a constant war, the resolve to see through what he had started diminishing. Yet all at once, it stopped and his eyes shifted down to your quiet reassurance— your hand placed atop his fist. He took a steadying breath.

“I’ve eaten dreams before,” Xiao started, eyes closed as he reminisced. “There exist several methods developed over centuries to perform it. Many are painless and safe. A nightmare or a dream—either can be eaten and it would be as if you had no recollection of it afterwards.”

“So… it wipes it from my memory?”

“In a similar concept, yes.”

You nodded slowly, brows scrunched in thought as you processed the idea.

“Do you trust me with doing this, should you have nightmares?”

All it took was a moment. You were quick to melt away his doubts with the warmth that radiated from your softening gaze. And with a gentle squeeze to his hand, you replied.

“I trust you.”

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

it’s just what we know || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, talks of pregnancy, slight mention of vomit, talks of kissing

word count: 1.6k

summary: having your second child takes its toll on you and your relationship...

Your daughter was three now. And yet it only felt like yesterday that you’d brought her home from the hospital. She’d certainly tired you and Harry out for a good while after she was born. You both loved Vera unconditionally, so when you discovered you were pregnant again, Harry was worried he’d lose a bit of his love for Vera to give to your new baby. He was scared he didn’t have enough love to share between the three of you.

He’d spend his nights awake, his hands resting on your stomach. Anne had assured him that the love one has for one’s family is never limited. There’s always enough affection to go around. Your own father had said something similar, though it was slightly less poetic.

Your second pregnancy had been far worse than your first. You felt constantly exhausted, dehydrated and sick. It amplified Harry’s guilt immensely. He already felt bad about not being able to love Vera the same as he did when she was an only child, but now you were in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was help you sleep comfortably, fetch you water whenever you needed, hold your hair back when you were disposing whatever food you had eaten into the toilet, and provide you with plenty of cuddles.

When your baby boy arrived in June, neither of you were surprised. Your entire family had predicted a boy because Harry had an older sister and you had a younger brother. So, when George Styles arrived, you’d been overjoyed to finally meet him and to have the rough pregnancy over.

Bringing him home, where Vera finally met him, almost solidified the reality that you and Harry had had a second baby. Vera became very obsessed with him very quickly. She would get up early just to come and watch him sleeping soundly. She’d sit and admire as you and Harry took turns in putting him to bed. She hated it when he cried and she hated it when you or Harry got frustrated with him for not stopping. Vera was naturally curious.

At first, it seemed easier than you’d remembered it to be with Vera. However, it quickly became just as stressful. There was nothing as bad as putting in hours upon hours of effort to seemingly get nothing out of it. The constant headaches and heavy eyes were beginning to feel worse than the pregnancy.

You’d always been aware of how tough pregnancy could be. Watching your aunt go through it when you were younger and hearing Anne talk about it when you first revealed you were pregnant with Vera had taught you that much. But you’d never expected it to be this hard.

As of present, you were balancing George on your hip. He was almost nine months old now. He’d found such joy in tugging on your hair and your ears. You tried your very hardest to ignore his actions as you prepared dinner. With only one free hand, it made it incredibly difficult to cook. But it was your only choice. Whenever you put George down, he began crying. And the last thing you needed to hear was more of his crying.

Vera sat at Harry’s piano, pressing her fingers down on random keys, giggling loudly as she went. The tune emitted was far from pleasant. And with the combination of George’s physical torment and Vera’s masterpiece of music, you were nearing your limit.

You’d dealt with them all day. And it was definitely one of those days. To make matters even worse, Vera was going through her daddy’s girl phase. She needed to know where Harry was and when he would be back and she’d only ever do anything if Harry asked her to. As far as she was concerned, you had no authority in her life whatsoever.

Harry had been at the studio all day with Mitch, writing and toying around with the instruments there. There was only so much he could do at home without being interrupted by a clingy Vera Styles. And, as much as you knew how much his music meant to him and his fans, you just wished he’d take a day to look after Vera and George. You were constantly tired, constantly aggravated and constantly stressed. All you wanted was a break.

You heard the front door close. Harry had always slammed the door, it had just been a habit of his. That was until you first had Vera and he learnt that she became easily frightened by the loud bang and it often woke her up. And when she was awake and on edge, she wasn’t going back to sleep. Which, in turn, meant you and Harry didn’t get any sleep either.

You listened silently as Harry hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. He wandered into the living room. You heard him gasp, “That’s beautiful! You’re so talented!”

It was swiftly followed by Vera’s giggles. She said something to him, something you didn’t quite pick up. You heard his footsteps as he arrived at the threshold of the kitchen. He grinned, “There’s my baby boy!”

You let out a sigh of relief as Harry lifted George from your arms. You smiled to yourself as Harry peppered George’s face in light kisses. He turned to you, “And my gorgeous Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, squeezing your hand with his free one. You smiled, “How was Mitch?”

Harry sat himself down at the kitchen table, tickling George as he did so. He shrugged slightly, “He was good. We wrote a great song today, Y/N. Oh, God, you’d have loved it.”

You nodded, “I’m glad you had a great day.”

Perhaps there was an air of bitterness to your tone. But you couldn’t help it anymore. You were just so tired. Besides, Harry didn’t pick up on any traces of sourness, but a part of you almost wanted him to. Maybe then he’d bring you up on it and you could tell him about all your problems.

You felt almost guilty being the person to bring it up; you didn’t want to burden Harry with what you were dealing with. Communication between you and Harry seemed scarce these days. Sure, you’d have a brief catch up in bed, but half the time, you were asleep so quickly the conversation didn’t last all too long. And then the hours between Harry’s arrival home and when you fell asleep was only filled with Vera and George. You knew that’s what parenthood was about, but you just craved some alone time. Harry nodded, “I did. The band is gonna come down tomorrow and we’re gonna play around. You know, see if we can put some music to my lyrics.”

Slowly, you said, “So, you’re going to the studio tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I just have a really great feeling about this song, Y/N. I mean, you really would have loved it.”

“I’m sure I would,” you said, suddenly filled with the urge to cry. “Can you take over for a second?”

You gestured down to the pan you were preparing dinner in. He quickly shot up, much to the glee of little George. You wiped your hands on your trousers and left the kitchen with your head down. Rushing into the bathroom, you let it all out quietly.

You splashed your face with a bit of water in an attempt to wake yourself up a bit. It was only two minutes later that Harry wandered in, ruining your only time alone all day. Upon realising you were upset, he rushed to kneel in front of you, taking your face in his large hands. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes large and inflated with sympathy.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you smiled forcefully, kicking yourself internally for that being your default reply whenever you were asked how you were feeling.

“No, please don’t lie.”

“I’m just… just so tired,” you said, feeling lighter already for finally confessing. “I just can’t physically do it on my own. I’m so lonely all day. And I know I’m just being selfish, but I feel like I’m raising them without you. It feels like I never see you anymore.”

“You’re not being selfish, my love. Please, don’t think you’re being selfish for feeling alone. I love you. I love you so much. Okay? I’ll make the effort now, okay? I will. I promise. Please, darling, don’t keep stuff like this to yourself anymore. I need to know. I’ll tell you what, I’ll tell the band to have the day off tomorrow and I’ll stay and look after George and Vera. You can do whatever you want all day, whether that be sleep or go see your parents.”

He never failed to make you smile, with slightly flushed cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

“We shouldn’t even be a big thing. I’m their father, I should just automatically put in as much effort as you,” he said.

You sighed, “Well, yeah, but you are a lot busier than me.”

“I’m never too busy for my three angels. Alright? I love you,” he said softly, kissing you.

It felt as if something within you had reigniting. It felt as if this kind of intimacy had been lost on you and Harry since having kids. And, for a split second, you felt seventeen again. “Thank you,” you whispered, laying your forehead against his.

“Stop thanking me for doing the bare minimum. You know I hate it,” he sighed, leaning into your touch. “Now, come on, before we end up with spaghetti all over the kitchen walls.”

[professorrw]

Last Chance, a Remus Lupin One-Shot

Pairing: female reader x young Remus

Warnings: protected sex, loss of innocence, swearing, alcohol, partying

A/N: BOTH PARTIES ARE 18! This takes place during their graduation from Hogwarts, so May of 1978, which means Remus was 18. (This is a repost because the tags weren’t working)

It’s graduation. Seven years at Hogwarts over in the blink of an eye. It felt like just yesterday when you met Sirius, Peter, James, Lily, and Remus. Oh Remus. You’ve liked him since third year. You’re about to graduate and he still doesn’t know. Merlin, what was keeping you from telling him? Pure fear, that’s what. Because what if he doesn’t like you? What if you ruin your friendship?

Maybe, just maybe, you could work up the courage to tell him today before it’s too late. 

You looked around at your friends at the Gryffindor table, waiting for Professor Dumbledore to begin the graduation ceremony. Lily could tell how nervous you were, seeing that your hands were shaking a lot. She was the only person that knew you liked Remus. She was also the person that encouraged you to tell him today. 

Remus noticed that you were shaking too, but assumed it was from having to walk in front of all those people. That wasn’t the reason though, you weren’t afraid of large crowds. You were, however, afraid of messing up a perfectly fine friendship. But were you content with just being friends?

The boys were chatting about their plans for the night. Sirius and James want to have a huge afterparty in the dorm as their last hurrah. Tonight would be your last night at Hogwarts, the last night in your second home. So many memories filled the halls you could write a book about all the mischief you six got up to.

The attention was drawn to the head of the room as Dumbledore began to speak. “My dear students, you have accomplished a great feat, school!” There were a few laughs from the crowd of seventh years. “I commend you for getting thus far. You have a journey ahead of you, and I would hope Hogwarts has prepared you to take on each and every one of them.”

Dumbledore got through the rest of his speech then called up each of the graduating students to give them a certificate and handshake. Lily was the image of grace as she walked through the tables and up to the front of the room. The claps from you and your friends were louder than the rest of the Halls.

Remus’ name was called a while later and when he was in front of everyone James and Sirius wolf whistled at him, causing a light blush to spread across his cheeks. You giggled at the sight. Godric, he was adorable.

The rest of the names were called and the rest of the professors spoke before everyone was dismissed. This last night was supposed to be for packing but that wasn’t what the Marauders had in mind. As soon as they crossed the threshold of the Gryffindor common room they bolted to their room, gathering up everything they would need for the party. It was yours and Remus’ job to get the word out.

While Lily, James, Sirius and Peter set up, you went down to the dungeons to tell the Slytherins. Most were hesitant when you invited them, but you left it to the more rambunctious of the group to convince the others. You arrived back at your common room door soon after. 

When you entered the common room was transformed. Red and gold streamers were everywhere, the couches and chairs were pushed to the side to make a sitting area sort of thing, and there was a disco ball floating around the ceiling. That had to be Lily’s idea. 

Peter was putting out drinks on the desks meant for studying. He had a small variety of alcohol already set out with plastic cups stacked next to them. Leftovers from the feast earlier were also splayed across the tables. Never underestimate the gathering abilities of Peter.

You went up to the girls’ dormitory to change clothes. Lily was already there, shuffling through her trunk. She was only half dressed, so she must have been looking for some bottoms.

You ruffled through the different outfits you had and decided on your favorite one. The party wasn’t going to be formal, that was for sure. You still looked good though, tonight you would confess your feelings toward Remus. He was your closest friend other than Lily. If he didn’t take your feelings well you didn’t know what you would do. You pushed that thought aside and decided to think positively.

You went back downstairs and helped decorate for a while before people slowly started to trickle in. First to arrive were the Hufflepuffs. Dispute their innocent image, they could really party. The Ravenclaws followed after, leaving the Slytherins for last, which was typical. No matter how many parties were held, they would always be reluctant to show.

The common room was soon packed and music swelled from the walls. The party was in full swing within minutes. Sirius was already on top of a table, swinging around his discarded shirt. James hollered at him from below, “Dance Black!”

Following orders, Sirius started to dance on top of the table. He pulled out all the moves, rotating in a circle for all to see. You and Lily laughed from the couch, sipping on some random beverage. It was only seven, and you didn’t want to drink so early. That wasn’t the case for Sirius, who already had a cup of beer before anyone arrived.

Two or three hours in, you had danced with everyone in the group, including Remus. It was amazing to feel so carefree. You didn’t know when you would feel like this again, so you relished the feeling. You didn’t have a set time to tell Remus, you were waiting for the right moment. 

After being on your feet for so long, you sat back down. Lily walked over with you and sidled up in the seat next to yours. She looked at you expectantly, “So how’s it going? How’re you feeling? Are you ready?” 

“I’m feeling great. I’ve danced, I’m loosened up, I think I’m ready.” You nodded your head to solidify your answer. Thinking too hard about what you were about to do would only make you nervous.

“Well go! There he is!” She pointed to the drink table where Remus was.

“I’m gonna do it,” you said. You got up and confidently walked over to where he stood. When you got next to him he looked over and smiled.

“Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah it’s super fun,” you paused before continuing, “Actually I have something to tell you.”

He raised his eyebrows to acknowledge he was listening. You weren’t going to tell him in the middle of all that chaos.

“Not here. Could we go to your room?” You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to look as nervous as you were beginning to feel. 

Remus was visibly confused for a second, brows furrowing to give you a questioning look before he agreed. You followed him through the crowd and up the stairs to the dorms.

You closed the door behind you before sitting next to Remus on his bed.

“What do you need to tell me? Is it bad? Are you okay? If you don’t want to be down there you can stay up here, I’ll keep you company.” He was genuinely concerned at this point.

You let out air through your nose and shook your head. “No, nothing like that. It’s actually about you. Remus I- I have liked you for so long. I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you because now we’ve graduated and we’re about to leave and-” You rush through it a bit too fast, but Remus heard every word you said.

“Really? James didn’t put you up to this? Because if he didn’t, Y/N I feel the same way.” He basically whispers as his face moves towards yours. His lips are centimeters away from your when you answer him.

“James didn’t put me up to anything, he doesn’t even know I like you.” You speak in the same hushed voice as Remus did. Your gaze drifts from his eyes to his lips, anticipating what's about to happen.

He doesn’t even respond, instead closes the distance between you. His lips meet with yours in a kiss that makes you melt. You waited so long for this moment. All your worries slipped away, your mind focusing on Remus and the way you're connected. 

His hands go to your waist, pulling you into him. Your mouths mold and work together, tongues sliding against one another’s. When you finally pull away you're completely in awe. You had no idea how this night was going to play out, but it was fantastic so far. You decided to take a chance, “Remus I want you.”

“Are you sure?” Remus was ever the gentleman, he didn’t want to push you into anything too quickly. He looked at you with the same gentle concern that made your heart skip a beat. 

“I’m positive.” That much you were sure. You didn’t plan on taking things that far, but it felt right. Besides, it was your last night in Hogwarts. There was no telling where you guys were going to be next. You hoped you would all still be close. James and Lily were in a serious relationship so they would be together of course.

Remus nodded and unbuttoned his shirt. You took that as a sign to also start undressing. You stood next to each other, stripping until you were both naked. You admired Remus’ body, every single inch of it. Your eyes danced over the scars that littered his body. You stepped closer to him, hands around his shoulders while his hands rested on your hips.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek before sliding onto the bed. Remus’ eyes trailed after you before the rest of his body followed. Before getting in he stopped at his bedside table. He opened the drawer and pulled out two things. One was a little square packet, a condom, and the other was a bottle, lube.

“Has he done this before?” you wondered. He saw your questioning eyes and decided to ask the question that hadn’t yet slipped from your mouth. “I don’t- I- It’s from Sirius. I haven’t done this before.” 

That made you feel slightly relieved. He was a virgin. That meant you weren’t the only one that was inexperienced.

“Me either. I don’t think I would have if given the chance though. Not when I liked you so much. It wouldn’t have felt right.” While you talked he opened up the tiny packet and pulled out the rolled up condom. He sat on the bed in between your open legs. He put it on his nice sized cock. You watched his every movement with anticipation. You had no idea Remus could make you feel so riled up when he hadn’t even touched you.

He squeezed the lube onto his hand before smearing it on his covered dick. Your breath hitched as he slowly inserted himself into your pussy. Remus’ head lolled back as he began to move in and out slowly. Your eyes shuttered shut as he picked up the pace. For your first time, it didn’t hurt as much as you were told it would.

“Remus, you feel so good,” you breathed out. He groaned as his fingers dug into your thighs. You moaned as he hit a spot in you that sent ripples of pleasure throughout your body. His pace wasn’t perfect but it was enough to get you both close to your orgasms. Remus heard the difference in sounds when he hit your g-spot and tried to do it again. After multiple more thrusts you could feel your body reaching its climax.

Remus gave a particularly throaty groan as his dick twitched inside you. You couldn’t feel his cum but you knew what happened. Even after his orgasm he didn’t stop, wanting you to reach ecstasy as well. 

His next thrusts were sloppy but they still pushed you further nonetheless. It didn’t take much more. You gripped his forearm as your walls clenched and milked his condom-covered dick. You moaned one last time as Remus rode out your high. He pulled out after a few slow thrusts, collapsing by your side.

You were both breathing  heavily against one another. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against him. Your cheek rested against his bare chest. The quick thud of his heartbeat was mesmerizing.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to; I’m not going anywhere.”

Permanent Taglist: @bellamy1998​ 

[meganlpie]

My Champion

Based on this request: How about some mutual pining with viktor, he and reader have been childhood friends, she goes to Hogwarts while he goes to Durmstrang, they send owls back and forth keeping in touch, when he tells her that he’ll be attending the triwizard tournament, she feels her heart sink cuz of the danger, but says that she’ll show him around the school and that she knows that he’ll come out a champion. Reader is taken instead of Hermione and mutual feelings are revealed!! Throw in as much fluff as you can cram into this pls! from @gollyderek​

Here you go, lovely! I do not own Viktor. He belongs to Rowling.

Warnings: FLUFF!!! All the fluff! a little angst? Possible incorrect translations. First time writing Viktor Krum

Pairings: Viktor Krum x fem!reader

You chuckled quietly to yourself as Ron practically drooled over Viktor. To the world, your friend was the greatest Quidditch player of the age and a total heartthrob. And he was. Viktor was charming, sweet, kind, gorgeous, and one hell of an athlete. To you, however, he was just Viktor. He was your dearest friend and your, albeit secret, crush.

         The two of you had met when you were children, quite by accident, and became fast friends. You and your family had been visiting Bulgaria for your father's work and you and Viktor hadn't wanted to part. You spent years writing back and forth. You visited each other on holiday from school and Viktor often snuck you tickets to his Quidditch games after he made his national team, something you never stopped telling him you were proud of.

         But now, you were far away from all that. Now you were sitting in the Great Hall, watching Viktor enter with the rest of the potential Triwizard champions from his school. Viktor had told you he was coming, so you weren't as surprised as everyone else. You'd even offered to show him around Hogwarts. That didn't mean your heart didn't clench at the sight of him. It had been a while since you'd last seen him.

         As Viktor passed by you, he shot you a wink. You forced down a smile and rolled your eyes as the girls near you started to giggle, thinking the wink was directed at them. You watched him walk up with his Headmaster to greet Dumbledore. "Viktor Krum is here?" You laughed at Ron again before turning your attention back to your best friend. It was going to be a long year.

*time skip*

         "You will be careful, won't you?" you asked Viktor. He was taking a break from his daily workout, sitting beside you by the Black Lake. "Of course," he assured you then added a term of endearment in Bulgarian. For some reason, his confidence did nothing to enhance your own. It did not ease your worries. When his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, you'd felt your heart sinking. You knew how dangerous the tournament was. People had died in previous years. The dragon task had only solidified your fears.

         "That means 'my friend', doesn't it? What you said?" you asked, attempting to change the subject. Despite being his friend for so long, you hadn't quite gotten the hang of his language yet. Viktor gave you a smile so small you'd swear he was sad. "Yes. Friend." You cocked your head to the side for a moment. Then, you laid a hand on his shoulder.

         "Viktor?" He hummed in acknowledgement so you continued, "Please take care of yourself. You're very important to me." Viktor's hand came up and covered yours as he gave you a genuine smile. "You are important to me as well, Y/N. I will be…safe." Things grew quiet between you for a little while. As you laid your head against his shoulder, you were grateful it was Saturday. "I know you'll do well, Viktor. You'll win. I know you will."

         Viktor didn't say anything, but you felt his lips press against the top of your head. He muttered something in his native tongue before he switched to English. "There is something I want to ask you," he said. You glanced up at him. "The Yule Ball. Will you accompany me?"

         You blinked in surprise, lifting your head from his shoulder. Of all the people he could have asked to the ball, he had asked you? "Are you sure you want to go with me?" you couldn't help but ask. Viktor chuckled and nodded. "Yes. There is no one I would rather attend with." Part of you wanted to say no. You weren't sure your heart could take it. Then again, you may not get an opportunity like that again. So you smiled at him and opened your mouth to reply.

Viktor's POV

         Inside, Viktor was a mess as he waited for your answer. He had been building up his courage to ask since he arrived at Hogwarts. When he first heard of the tournament and ball, he was confident that you would say yes. But when he saw you again after a couple of years, his confidence had waned a bit. You were so beautiful. Surely you had boys lined up to ask you. He couldn't believe that you chose to spend all your time with him, best friend or not.  

         Viktor knew he was in love with you. Sure, you were both young, but you had known each other for so long. Viktor couldn't imagine being with anyone else. He was not calling you his "friend". He was calling you his "heart". When the Yule Ball was announced, Viktor knew he had to ask you. Even if you never returned his affections, he could at least have one night with you to pretend that the two of you could be something more than friends.

         Viktor was brought back to reality when you gave his hand a small squeeze. "I'd love to go to the ball with you, Viktor." Viktor swore the sun began shining a bit brighter. Despite the chill in the air, Viktor felt a warmth spread through his chest. But he didn't want to scare you off, so he kept his excitement inside, ready to burst forth.

         "Good. That is good. Thank you." You laughed lightly. You gave him a quick hug as you prepared to stand. Viktor was up in an instant, helping you to your feet. You playfully rolled your eyes. "I guess I'll have to find a spell to change the color of my dress to match your robes. I can't wait." You placed a short peck to his cheek then ran off with a wave. "See you later, Viktor!" Viktor was left next to the lake fighting off a blush and a smile.

*another time skip(sorry). Your POV*

         To say you were nervous was an understatement. Even though you knew you and Viktor were only going to the ball as friends, you couldn't fight the butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you prepared yourself for the Yule Ball. Your knees knocked together when you stepped into your shoed and you were almost positive you were going to faint when you took the first step down toward Viktor.

         Viktor looked gorgeous, even more so than usual, and his eyes were riveted on you as you descended the steps. "You look…lovely," he praised softly, his tongue seemingly tripping over the English word. You felt yourself heat up. "Thank you, Viktor. You look incredible." Viktor turned and offered his arm to lead you into the Great Hall that had been converted into a ballroom for the night.

         "I'm nervous," you admitted. Viktor chuckled and gave your hand a squeeze with his free one. "It will be alright. I will help you as you helped me." All eyes were on you when you entered the room on Viktor's arm. You took your positions and let your eyes wander a little.

          You felt Viktor gently grip your chin as he turned your face back toward him. "I will not let you fall, moya lyubov." Your brows came together. You didn't know what he'd said, but he'd never called you that before. There was no time to ask what he said. The music started you were caught up in the feeling of being in his arms.

         You and Viktor spent the entire night dancing together. When it came to an end, you couldn't fight the tears that formed in your eyes while Viktor walked you back to your dormitory. Your one night with Viktor was nearly over and you hated it. Before you could stop them, sniffles escaped you at the thought of never being with him like this again.

         "Why are you crying?" Viktor asked with concern lacing his voice. He had never seen you upset before. Not like this. "I don't want it to end," you admitted quietly. You stopped walking and face him. "Viktor, I-" you were cut off by Viktor hugging you close and whispering something in your ear in Bulgarian. He kept repeating the phrase like a mantra, almost desperately.

         "Viktor, slow down. I don't understand what you're saying." Viktor pulled back. He gazed deeply into your eyes. "I did not want this night to end either," he confessed softly in broken English, "I have been trying to say all night. But I am a coward. I cannot tell the beautiful woman in front of me that I love her."

         You were so lost in listening to his thick accent that you almost missed what he said entirely. Once his words registered in your mind, you simply stared at him. Viktor's face fell when you didn't say anything. "Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps you do not feel the same." He turned to leave, but you caught his arm.

         "Wait, Viktor. I do feel the same. I always have felt the same." Viktor turned back to you, a bright grin on his face. He stepped closer to you and cupped your cheek. He whispered something in his native tongue again, but immediately repeated himself in English. "I love you. May I…" he trailed off, trying to find the right words, "May I kiss you?" Your lips pulled up into a smile and you nodded. Viktor let out a shaky breath and leaned into place a chaste kiss to your lips.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @sirkekselord​ @aikibriarrose​ @esoltis280​ @lady-of-lies​ @sdavid09​

All Tag lists are open!

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 13

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language, allusion to NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

Drop of a hat she's as willing as Playful as a pussy cat Then momentarily out of action Temporarily out of gas To absolutely drive you wild, wild She's out to get you

~ Queen - Killer Queen ~

After Lizzie had left on that day back in August, Orion hadn’t been sure whether her words would follow action and there would actually be a next time, nor had he been entirely sure he wanted there to be one.

Not because the night he had spent with Lizzie hadn’t been fantastic, or either of them was feeling uncomfortable with it; but she had been his close friend and colleague for so many years now and Orion valued her presence in his life deeply. Changing a pattern that worked smoothly seldomly proved to be a good idea.

He had been glad nothing seemed to have changed between them when they saw each other next; Lizzie had acted just the same as always, focused on their music, laughing with him during breaks, maybe a little flirtatious, but then again, that was just her way.

Orion’s resolve to consider the fling with her done and dusted lasted about a week. He had walked her home from the dinner they’d had with the rest of the band; when they’d reached her flat in Chelsea, she’d waited in the door to the house, looking back at him over her shoulder with an amused expression.

“What now? Are you coming or not?”

He had to admit, the second time round, this time with their senses all together, the sex had been even better than the first time. His concerns about what it might do to their friendship were melting away with every kiss Lizzie left on his body, setting his skin aflame and shutting off his mind with that deliciously wicked smile of hers.

When they’d found themselves in his flat for a third time, he felt the need to stop her wandering hands while he still could.

“Wait a minute, we should really talk about what we’re doing here.”

Lizzie looked up at him incredulously, her fingers hooking on the seam of his trousers, her fingernails grazing his sensitive skin. “What, right now?”

Orion tried to ignore his urgent wish for her to continue where she’d left off and sat up. “Yes, right now.”

“Fine,” she answered briefly and removed her hands from his body, but not without running her hand over him one last time, sending a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t deny how much his body yearned for her but he pushed the heat inside his chest aside and forced his thoughts to focus on what was on his mind.

“If we want this to continue we need to talk about where it’s going,” he managed to say a lot calmer than he felt as he watched Lizzie slowly taking in his undressed body, a salacious smirk on her lips.

“I can perfectly tell you where this is going right now,” she chuckled but Orion didn’t let himself get distracted.

“I’m serious, Liz. As fun as this is, we’re actively breaking the rules here. We are part of a greater thing; the whole unity that is Equinox is more important than every one of us on our own. I don’t want to do anything that could harm the band.”

With a sigh, Lizzie sat up straighter, her expression serious. “Neither of us would ever do anything to put the band at risk. This here is not a relationship, Orion; we can stop this any time.”

She shuffled closer to him on the bed and put a hand on his arm. Her smile was now nothing but warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry, this is just fun, no strings attached.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, however. “Things like this end in disaster more often than not.“

“If it makes you feel better, let’s make a deal,” Lizzie suggested. “We’ll do this as long as it’s fun and we both want it. In the case that things change for either one of us, we’ll just stop and go back to how things were before. How does that sound?”

Orion sighed deeply. “Do you really think it will work just like that?”

“Just like that,” she smiled, her hand wandering from his arm onto his chest, giving him a slight push so he fell over on his back.

“You’re thinking too much,” she purred as her lips trailed down his chest and over his stomach, coming to rest where hands had let off earlier. “Let me help you relax.”

And just like that, what had begun as a simple drunk one-night stand had developed into something that wasn’t just a friendship, but was far from a relationship either.

Even when their tour had started, they hadn’t stopped meeting in the dead of the night, the risk of being discovered adding an additional thrill, which Orion would have never guessed he’d find himself enjoying. Working off the adrenaline a successful show set off in their bodies soon became his favourite way of winding down. It wasn’t long before he’d actually started showing signs of impatience - something that used to be completely foreign to him - when Lizzie took her time before leaving the backstage area, joking around with Skye or Charlie, deliberately teasing him.

The curves of her body became as familiar to Orion as the neck of his guitar, and he knew exactly how to play both to coax the sweetest sounds from them. Lizzie began to learn every story behind his many tattoos, her fingers tracing the delicate lines as he told her all about them.

The harmony that had existed between them from the get go solidified, unexpected but not unsurprising; it felt like a natural extension to their friendship, raising their connection and understanding to a higher level.

Now, almost ten months since their first night together, he couldn’t even remember what it had been like before.

Orion was violently broken out of his musings by Skye snapping her fingers in front of his eyes.

“Earth calling Orion, you still with us, mate?”

She eyed him critically as his eyes snapped back into focus. “What’ve you been daydreaming about?”

He slowly pulled her hand away from his face. “I have been reminded of something and indulged in the call of the past for a moment,” he answered serenely.

“The way you’re looking it must have been a good memory,” Lizzie said innocently. Her eyes were sparkling as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking about.

He inclined his head, hoping his face wouldn’t give him away. “A favourite.”

Skye shrugged. “Whatever, let’s get those damn pictures taken and get outta here, I’m hungry. You’d better focus on the job.” She stopped, looking thoroughly bewildered. “Can’t believe I need to say this to you of all people.”

Still shaking her head, she grabbed Lizzie by the arm and pulled her towards the set that had been prepared on the far side of the room. The photographer was already instructing Merula on where to stand, Everett looking on from the sidelines.

It took them ages to get all of the pictures Rita’s magazine wanted done. After all of them had their portraits taken, they continued with group shots in various combinations.

When it was the girls’ turn, Orion joined Everett on the sides. The mood between the two guitarists had improved a little since Everett felt he got the recognition he deserved, but still, the atmosphere lacked the carefree camaraderie of the past. Orion struggled to find something to talk about with him these days, not wanting to provoke any of Everett’s bad moods.

As it turned out, their frontman had no desire to talk to him anyway. He was watching Skye, Lizzie and Merula pose in front of the camera intently. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest, a small grin forming on his face.

“You can say what you want, but our girls are quite a sight to see, aren’t they?”

Orion didn’t answer, only raising his eyebrows slightly. Everett took his silence as a sign to go on. “I mean, look at them.” His grin widened, taking on a wolfish touch. “Look at Lizzie, for fuck’s sake. Shame she’s always running ‘round all plain and simple, what a waste.”

Orion had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “Beauty comes from the inside, from embracing our nature as it is and carrying it to the outside. Lizzie is in tune with herself and that is showing. The way she prefers to keep it simple doesn’t dim her light, it enhances it.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say no to her glammed up like that, is all I’m saying,” Everett snorted.

Orion wasn’t surprised by Everett’s take on things, but he was astounded at how much his words were grating on him. Everett had been a flirt for as long as Orion could remember, but he had never objectified women the way he did these days. Ever since they had started their way to the top, the pressure they were constantly feeling had steadily increased. Everett was treating the girls admiring him just the same as he did anything else taking his mind off things; as a meaningless, replaceable means to an end.

He didn’t like hearing Everett talk about anyone like that, but especially not Lizzie.

However, Orion couldn’t deny that he had a point. As per usual, Andre had worked his magic on her for the shoot, creating a maximum effect with simple but well chosen measures. Lizzie’s light brown hair fell around her face in a heap of messy curls, her dark makeup accentuating her blue eyes.

The shiny leather leggings she was wearing were clinging tightly to her legs that were elongated by a pair of black heeled boots. A loose black shirt with the familiar logo of the Rolling Stones gave her the effortlessly nonchalant vibe that was so inherently her. She had tied it in a knot at the sides to shorten it, showing just the tiniest bit of her belly.

Yes, as much as he hated to admit it, Everett was right; Lizzie was a sight to see. Their eyes met briefly as Merula and Lizzie switched positions. Orion could see the smirk starting to form on her lips, like it always did when she caught him watching her.

She quickly regained control over her expression, flipping her hair out of her face and concentrating again. But her attention kept wandering back to him, a mischievous glitter in her eyes that Orion knew all too well.

When it was time for pictures of the whole group, he and Everett joined the girls in front of the camera again. To get a more compact looking picture of them all together, the photographer wanted him and Everett to sit on one of the sofas they had used for the interview, the girls grouped behind them, all trying their best to look as casual as possible.

Orion was sitting directly in front of Lizzie; he almost jumped when he suddenly felt her hand on his back, hidden from the others by her body that was very close to his. Her fingers tiptoed higher up until they found the exposed skin of his neck. Her nails were grazing his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind at the unexpected sensation. Orion could feel the intense energy radiating off her and had to fight the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of her expression.

Looking at her camera, the photographer, a beautiful young woman in a blue headscarf, frowned and shook her head. “This doesn’t look right yet. I’m missing the energy, the spirit of your connection.

She contemplated for a moment before her fine features lit up. “I know; Merula, could you sit between the guys? The other girls, one on each arm of the sofa, please.”

They changed as she had asked them to, Skye perching on the back of the sofa next to Everett and Lizzie now sitting closer to Orion than before. But still, their photographer wasn’t satisfied.

“Lizzie, could you lean in a little?”

“Sure,” Lizzie smiled innocently, leaning closer to Orion until their bodies were almost touching. He could smell her perfume and the sharp scent of hairspray. When he felt her hand on his back yet again, conveniently out of sight of the camera, he shifted his position a little, ever so slightly leaning into her touch.

Encouraged by him playing along, the corners of her mouth twitched, masked by a little tilt of her head for the camera. Her hand traveled down his spine to the base of his shirt where she lost no time to slip it underneath the seam, her cool fingers brushing across the bare skin of his back.

Orion exhaled slowly, trying not to laugh at the light sensation of her fingertips. Lizzie knew that he was ticklish in that particular spot. She was trying to play him, testing his control over himself, just as she had done after their first show in London.

He couldn’t believe the risk she was taking; touching him like that in a dark nightclub under a table was one thing, but during a photoshoot, with all eyes on them? He’d never thought she would be so bold.

Her ridiculous recklessness was intriguing, however; just like everything about Lizzie it was playing with fire and the reward of being close to a blazing flame never came without danger.

A movement at the edge of his vision drew Orion’s attention away from her touch. His eyes flicked over to the other side of the sofa and he thought he could see Skye looking over to them. His heart suddenly racing, Orion leaned against the back of the sofa, effectively forcing Lizzie to withdraw her hand.

He glanced over to Skye again, but she was looking straight at the camera, her moody rockstar expression edged onto her face. She paid him or Lizzie no mind whatsoever, and for a moment Orion wondered whether that frown on her face had been nothing but a trick of his mind.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1600~

Summary: Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Ah, my first Lapis POV fic! This one has been in my drafts for ages- at least a year and a half. Feels nice to finally have it done.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

________

Finally Free

It’s funny, in a way.

She spent thousands of years trapped inside herself, unable to form... hating the Crystal Gems... fearing the endless destructive conquest of the Diamonds... and yet in the end, the first time she falls in a battle she fought willingly she does so fighting alongside those star-bearing rebels, face-to-face with the very Diamond who abandoned her to Earth to be forgotten to begin with.

And now, she’s gone. Trapped inside herself again. It’s equal parts disorienting as it is concerning. After all, Lapis Lazuli cannot see the world beyond. She has no way of knowing if the Crystal Gems lost or won. No way of knowing if she’ll be shattered at any moment. It’s nerve-racking— suffocating! She wants out. She wants to know.

But no matter what she tries, she can’t manage to pull herself out of this formless limbo on demand. She always imagined that the next time she got struck down she’d reform in an instant... pop right back up like the next day’s dawn, ready to slice the waves and swing her fists like she’s never been shaken to her knees in the first place. Apparently not.

Despite her dearest wishes, it would seem the universe has a higher agenda.

_

Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Fittingly, it’s the ocean who greets her first as she hovers midair in the midst of reformation, arms outstretched and coursing with newfound strength as her form fully solidifies. She gently falls to her knees on the sand. With the sun’s energizing warmth kissing the gemstone on her back, she spreads her fingers through the fine granules, her relief at being free from unconsciousness’ cruel prison so palpable and overwhelming that for a moment she’s irrationally terrified she’ll poof again from the intensity of this fierce emotion alone. Her hard-light body remains solid, however. After all, she’s a stubborn Gem. There’s no way she’ll let herself poof as easily as she did this time around ever again.

Coaxing herself to her feet, she makes a clear point of judiciously surveying her surroundings. Her first big clue as to the outcome of the battle is the fact that the Diamond ships still lay broken and motionless in the shallows at the edge of the peninsula. (Not to mention the fact that the Earth is still... well, here.) Directly behind her, she finds a makeshift worktable formed out of a thick board placed over twin stacks of wood, with plenty of human tools scattered across its surface. No one appears to be hanging around Steven’s house right now, but there’s a sizable tarp thrown over the half that Blue’s ship smashed during the battle. That’s good, that insinuates that someone’s alive to begin repairs. Although, wait a minute... Her brow sharply creases as she filters back through recent memory. Wasn’t that ship still leaning against the side of the cliff when she poofed? How’d it get into the water? And how did the arm ship’s thumb get reattached?

Before she can fret about these mysteries further and and risk losing herself to a burst of paranoid panic, she hears her name called from the distance. Attentively, she whirls around, seeking its source.

It’s Peridot, sprinting right towards her across the fine sand as if the rest of this growing, changing world has somehow hurtled to an abrupt stop. But not her. Goodness, never her. She’s always in motion, always manages to be so alive.

And she... she’s changed her outfit. There’s stars everywhere, on her leggings at her knees, in the silhouette formed by the shape of her visor and hair, and plastered proudly right across her chest. Lapis can’t help but give a fond smirk at the sight. It suits her. Now she can finally represent like a true Crystal Gem.

“Lapis!” she exclaims as she crosses the final distance, lands herself face-to-face once more. “You’re finally back!”

For a minuscule moment the green eyes behind that tinted visor glitter with deep affection and relief, and her arms stretch outward as if she intends to envelop her in a tight embrace and never let go, but as oft is the case, the turbulent waves of emotion coursing through this Gem are riddled with more complexity than initial appearances let on. And if there’s one thing Lapis fails to excel at, it’s understanding how to best respond to the nuances of complex emotions. She’s never been much of a people person, even before her capture.

Eventually, the joyful familiarity within Peridot’s expression dims, and— inhaling deep— she steeples her fingers together as if she were an agate merely addressing a subordinate. The tone of her voice becomes bitingly procedural, detached.

(Try as she may, Lapis can’t block the ephemeral ache this new reality elicits at her core as the conversation continues. She clutches at her wrist, shamefully dropping her gaze to the sand.)

“Anyways,” the former Kindergarten technician says evenly, gesturing at the mess littering the beach behind them, “we have a lot of work to do. No time to waste!”

Her brow creases. “But... didn’t we win?”

“We did, yes,” she nods in confirmation. “Bismuth can explain in more depth, but she’s currently on one of the diamond ships. We’re fixing them so we can fly out as backup.”

“Backup? Backup for what?”

Peridot’s cool and collected guise crumples at this query, her hands curling into small fists as she blinks away any lingering evidence of her distress.

“Steven’s in trouble,” she reveals. “We just received a distress message from him yesterday. I’m told he returned to Homeworld with the Diamonds to discuss healing all the corrupted Gems, but...”

“Something went wrong,” she guesses, the shadow of her bangs darkening over her eyes. “They turned on him.”

“Well... we don’t really know what happened. Which is why time is of the essence!” she says with a sudden surge of positive energy, swiftly jabbing her pointer finger in the air. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where we’re working.”

Her old roommate prepares to jog away, towards the other side of the beach where the ships lay in temporary rot and ruin. Time stills in Lapis’ mind, if but for a brief moment, as she watches the sunlight glint at the upper edge of her visor, the refraction producing almost kaleidoscopic patterns in the sand. The choppy rhythm of the ocean, its undulating melody as it washes in and away from shore, uninterrupted... it almost sounds sad. She hums a few bars of a song she wrote back in her solitude, on the moon. And then she realizes, eyes widening... that she never really left that place, did she? In a way, even though she returned to Earth, it’s like she’s still stuck watching everyone from that observation sphere, still barring herself from nurturing her relationships with others out of fear.

Lapis throws her glance out towards the endless horizon, standing tall and erect as the loose pants of her new form billow against her legs in the light breeze. The long-held tension at her core releases. She’s done closing herself off from people. She’s done with feeling trapped and alone. She wants to mend her relationships, not let them erode away.

Which means... she has to at least try to make things right with Peridot. Somehow.

The tide’s pace resumes to its full intensity. At that precise moment, her friend turns on her heels, swiftly preparing to return to their work site.

“Peridot,” she says, quickly stepping forward to catch her shoulder before she can walk off, before she journeys to some distant shore where she can’t follow.

The shorter Gem freezes in place upon the utterance of her name. She doesn’t respond in words initially, lips tightly pursed. Waiting. Hoping.

(Stars, just say it!)

“I... I shouldn’t have run away,” Lapis blurts out, her form growing lighter the second that vocalization crosses the threshold from her guilt-filled subconscious to shining reality. “That was... a huge mistake. And I really wish I could make it up to you, but...” Her scattered focus shifts as she searches for something— anything— to say in further acknowledgement of her regret, eventually landing upon the shattered remnants of wood still strewn across the beach. She sighs sadly, giving her respects. “I’m pretty sure we can both agree that the barn’s a goner.”

Under her hold, Peridot’s once-tense shoulder relaxes. She makes no move to face her, however, still drinking in the no-doubt humbling sight of this planet’s boundless sea

“Well,” she begins slowly. “As long as you work to communicate with your friends whenever you feel overwhelmed in the future, and promise not to kidnap all of my morps into space again, I think we can call it even.”

She places one of her hands atop hers, the action but a small sign of their renewed goodwill.

“In any case, I’m- really glad you’re back,” she says, fondness evident in her tone.

Lapis smiles.

The ocean’s melody is no longer tinged with a companionless melancholy.

_

It’s funny how things can change.

She spent thousands of years terrified of the consequences of being caught as traitor to the Great Diamond Authority, and now she’s planning to illegally commandeer a diamond ship to fly a rescue mission into the stagnant heart of Homeworld. She’s only been a Crystal Gem for the equivalent of a few minutes, and yet she’s already reformed bolder and braver than ever before.

She feels strong. Despite the inherent danger of their task, she feels an ever-building reassurance, fighting amongst her friends. For the first time ever, she finally feels like someone has her back.

Lapis closes her eyes as she reflects on the culmination of her journey, standing confident alongside her dear friend on the bridge of Blue’s ship.

No more searching. No more running. She’s finally free.

[my-bated-breath]

Rage, Compassion, and the Bridge in Between

An essay on Katara’s emotions

On the spectrum of human emotion, rage and compassion exist on opposite ends. After all, rage is harsh and violent while compassion is soothing and nurturing; rage is unforgiving while compassion is all-forgiving. As such, they run a parallel course to each other, one canceling out the other whenever they do meet.

At least, that’s what we expect. We expect anger and kindness to be separate entities, and our media reflects this - a character is either severe or gentle, and in the rare case that they’re both, the contrast between their ability to hurt and their ability to heal is treated as a dichotomy. Except the human condition is not that simple, and sometimes, there is a not-so-simple story that remembers that.

In Avatar: The Last Airbender, Katara embodies the human condition - or more specifically, she embodies the duality within it. Throughout the show, her tenderness and her wrath are balanced in a way that renders her one of the most well-written female characters in children’s animation, perhaps even in all of television. Because Katara’s anger and compassion do not simply split themselves into two identities. Instead, they coexist and coalesce into one. They drive each other; they feed into each other; they are two sides of the same coin.

But how can that be true when opposite traits are supposed to clash and counter each other’s effects?

There’s no denying that at times, Katara’s anger and compassion serve to show two different sides of her. We even see this within the very first episode:

(on left) Katara: No that's it! I'm done helping you! From now on, you're on your own!

(on right) Katara: He's alive! We have to help!

At first, Katara’s irritation towards Sokka is what causes her to accidentally waterbend the iceberg open, in which the transcript describes her movements as “agitated.” However, as soon as she sees Aang, this irritation is replaced by concern for “the boy in the iceberg.” Hence, within a few minutes, we see how Katara can be motivated by compassion and rage separately.

Still, just because her kindness and anger are shown to be separate in many scenes that this separation applies to every scenario. Although Katara’s two opposite traits are opposite, that does not mean they are always opposing. Instead, they can fuel each other - her rage can fuel her compassion, and her compassion can fuel her rage.

Let’s see how.

Part 1 - Katara’s Rage Fuels Her Compassion

Throughout the series, Katara shares her grief over her mother’s death as a way to sympathize with others. In “The Southern Air Temple,” “Imprisoned,” and “Jet,” Katara tells Aang, Haru, and Jet about the effect the Fire Nation raids had on her, which establishes some of the most emotionally-charged scenes in these episodes. She is at her most vulnerable during these moments, laying bare a deep-rooted trauma in order to reach out and connect with someone else.

Dialogue from The Southern Air Temple

Katara: Aang, before we get to the temple, I want to talk to you about the airbenders.

Aang: What about 'em?

Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people.

Dialogue from Imprisoned

Haru: Yeah. Problem is... the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending. He taught me everything I know.

Katara: See this necklace? My mother gave it to me.

Haru: It's beautiful.

Katara: I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her.

Haru: It's not enough, is it?

Katara: No.

Dialogue from Jet

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.

Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

Jet: I'm so sorry, Katara.

However, these moments seem to distinctly lack any hint of anger from Katara’s end, so it may seem irrelevant to mention them here - that is, until we remember Katara had mentioned her mother one more time. Trapped in the Crystal Catacombs with a former enemy, she once again says that the Fire Nation took her mother away from her - but this time not with sympathy. No, this time she is filled with rage.

Dialogue from The Crossroads of Destiny

Zuko: You don't know what you're talking about!

Katara: I don't? How dare you! You have no idea what this war has put me through! Me personally! The Fire Nation took my mother away from me.

As Katara sits down, tears forming in her eyes, it becomes clear that her grief has festered into bitterness and anger towards the Fire Nation. By now, her grief is her anger, and so it’s not just shared pain Katara is empathizing within all four of these scenarios - it’s also shared rage.

She is gentle with Aang because she knows the effects of loss (inducing the Avatar State); she is sympathetic with Haru because she knows what she would be driven to do to have her mother back (inciting a prison break by stirring the prisoners’ righteous anger); and she is moved by Jet’s dedication to the Freedom Fighters because she would fight for the Southern Water Tribe too (against the Fire Nation, although Jet’s rage blinds him in a way that Katara’s doesn’t).

Then, in the Crystal Catacombs, it’s Katara’s anger towards the Fire Nation that uncovers her hidden pain. Her vulnerability is what causes Zuko’s words (“That’s what we have in common”) to resonate with her so much, enough for her to offer to heal his scar.

Therefore, Katara’s relationship with anger and grief (whether it’s emotionally-driven similar to how Aang enters the Avatar state or self-righteous similar to her calling the earthbender prisoners to action) is the foundation for some of her most compassionate moments in the series.

Part 2 - Katara’s Compassion Fuels Her Rage

Just as some of her most sympathetic moments are rooted in understanding someone else’s rage, many of Katara’s harshest moments see her acting on the behalf of others’ pain and needs.

As the designated “mother” of the Gaang, the Gaang’s more silly and immature antics often aggravate her and cause her to reprimand them severely, a clash that features prominently in Katara and Toph’s relationship.

In “The Chase” and “The Runaway,”  Katara shouts at Toph for lacking a sense of responsibility. However, her indignation does not simply stem from taking personal defense, but from wanting to safeguard the family she has found in the Gaang. Then, both these times, Toph learns the true motives behind Katara’s overbearing actions through a conversation with Iroh and Sokka, respectively.

Dialogue from The Chase

Toph: People see me and think I'm weak. They want to take care of me, but I can take care of myself, by myself.

Iroh: You sound like my nephew, always thinking you need to do things on your own, without anyone's support. There is nothing wrong with letting the people who love you help you.

When Toph talks with Iroh in “The Chase,” Iroh imparts some wisdom on finding mutual support in friendship, implying that Katara pushing responsibilities onto Toph is her way of solidifying and upholding the loving and supportive dynamic within the Gaang.

Dialogue from The Runaway

Sokka: I'm gonna tell you something crazy. I never told anyone this before, but honestly? I'm not sure I can remember what my mother looked like. It really seems like my whole life, Katara's been the one looking out for me. She's always been the one that's there. And now, when I try to remember my mom, Katara's is the only face I can picture.

Toph: The truth is sometimes Katara does act motherly, but that's not always a bad thing. She's compassionate and kind, and she actually cares about me. You know, the real me. That's more than my own mom.

As the dialogue states, “Katara’s been the one looking out for [them].” Hence, her mothering tendencies towards Toph in “The Runaway” are evoked by her wanting to avoid the danger that Toph’s high-profile scamming is beginning to place them in. In other words, she simply wants to protect her makeshift family because “she actually cares about [Toph and the rest of the Gaang]. You know, the real [them].”

Katara’s ability to empathize with others, to see past facades and prejudices, is one of her defining traits. Earlier, in the episode “The Painted Lady,” Katara manages to see beyond the people of Jang Hui’s Fire Nation background and recognize that above all else, they are suffering from war and poverty. Consequently, they are people who need her.

As such, even the notion of abandoning the people of Jang Hui (as suggested by Sokka) enrages her because Katara is someone who “will never, ever turn my back on people who need [her]!”

Still, Katara’s desire to fight for a village of strangers cannot compare to the lengths she would take to protect Aang.

Dialogue from The Western Air Temple

Katara: You might have everyone else here buying your… transformation, but you and I both know you've struggled with doing the right thing in the past. So let me tell you something, right now. You make one step backward, one slip-up, give me one reason to think you might hurt Aang, and you won't have to worry about your destiny anymore. Because I'll make sure your destiny ends ... right then and there. Permanently.

While Zuko was a bystander as Azula shot lightning at Aang, he was an active participant in his fight against Katara, whom, just moments ago, he shared an incredibly intimate moment with. But despite how Zuko betrayed Katara personally, it is the impact his betrayal had on Aang’s life (and death) that she focuses on. So even at her most threatening, Katara acts to protect someone else, Aang, the boy who is her friend and her family.

Together, all these instances reveal that Katara’s compassion is what grants her a protective instinct, and her protective instinct is what moves her to anger and violence.

Conclusion

Katara’s character provides invaluable insight into the relationship between compassion and rage, revealing how it is not simply black contrasting white, but a spread of grays and contradictions. After all, that is who Katara is. She is two sides of the same coin and the bridge in between.

Even more, that is the human condition - full of grays and contradictions, simultaneously negating and reciprocating, balancing and tipping the scales all at once. And perhaps human emotion, in all its breadth, cannot be contained to a two-dimensional spectrum where emotions can either be placed close together or on opposite ends - because humanity is of infinite dimensions, constructed from science, dictated by art. And yet, somehow it is a two-dimensional animated character who captures human complexity with such ease.

[punksarahreese]

hi hello could i maybe get "I don’t wanna die this way" for lone star? please hurt me however u choose

Hello^^ you certainly can 😌🌸

Don’t want to (die) | Marjan Marwani

Canon; A call goes awry and no one was expecting this outcome

Prompt: “I don’t wanna die this way”

Word count: 1515

CW: mentions of dying and medical emergencies

Send me prompts from the Penelope Scott lyrics list

***

It’s not a call that Michelle was ever expecting to get, or maybe it was something she just prayed would never happen. No amount of manifesting would prevent this, though, and Owen’s frantic tone over the radio had her heart dropping.

“Ladder 126, EMS needed immediately at our position,” Michelle wasn’t prepared for the words that followed, “Code 26.”

Injured firefighter, EMS required.

That had Nancy rushing for their bags from the rig, throwing them on the gurney as quickly as she could. Michelle was already running ahead, calling back for Tim to stay there and look after their patients, her own bag bouncing against her thigh with every movement. She cursed under her breath as she stumbled, worry for her crew clouding her awareness. Code 26, not an uncommon code in this line of work but certainly not one she had heard for a while. The last time she did must have been when TK was shot, which had been a whole other kind of chaos.

“Who?” she didn’t have any time for panic as she tried to depersonalize from it all, a hand falling on Judd’s shoulder to get his attention. The man looked at her through his visor, worry etched into his face as he pointed to where most of the crew was crowding around. This was just supposed to be a normal fire response, a small apartment complex with a fire on the third floor, and she was sure everyone had evacuated on time. She was only gone from the main scene for ten minutes, helping parents find their children and checking people for smoke inhalation and minor burns. They hadn’t had a firefighter injury in a while, this was such a minor scene she wasn’t sure how it had even happened. Judd seemed to be questioning the same thing but she didn’t have the time to consider how much his memories were haunting him at that moment.

“Marjan…”

Nancy had caught up with her by then and she nudged her Captain forward, though when their eyes met Michelle could tell she was just as worried. She could feel the pit of anxiety gnawing away at her stomach, her friend’s life at risk here. Still, they had to be smart about this, Marjan needed them and they would have to wait to feel later.

“Captain,” Michelle bounded over to the others, “What happened?”

Owen turned to look at her, standing up properly from his previously crouched position. Mateo was on the ground, looking like anxiety incarnate, and beside him was Marjan. Laying on the sooty asphalt with her turnout coat nowhere to be found and she looked worse for wear. Instead, her long sleeve was exposed and Michelle could see blood seeping from somewhere and covering the white fabric in a nauseating amount. She was on the ground with them in seconds, leaning over Marjan before Owen had even managed to speak.

“The ceiling,” it was TK who spoke instead, “She went back to get a kid… the building was unstable.”

“Someone decided it was a brilliant idea to take off her coat and cover the kid with it,” Judd interjected, “The smoke was disorienting and we couldn’t get to her in time. The lobby ceiling fell.”

Michelle was nodding but all of her attention was on Marjan, shining her penlight in her eyes and sighing when her pupils reacted properly. The woman in question was watching her weakly, her breathing unsteady but she was still alert enough to know what was going on. There didn’t seem to be any head or facial trauma, which was a relief, but her main worry was her abdomen.

“BP is high and she’s tachy,” Nancy told her as she leaned over with a stethoscope to confirm, speaking gently to Marjan before she did anything. Michelle was glad Nancy was there, her caring nature always helping to soothe their patients.

“Marjan, let me know if this hurts, okay?” She didn’t lift her shirt for the sake of her privacy and instead palpated the injured area over the soaked fabric. The gentle pressure had her crying out almost immediately, arms jerking up to cover her stomach. It was very un-Marjan like in nature, since she was always fearless and hated to seem weak. Michelle apologized gently but her concern was only rising with that reaction.

“Abdominal guarding and tenderness,” she turned to TK, “What fell on her?”

“A chair from the upper hallway along with a large chunk of the ceiling.”

“Damn,” she looked to Nancy again, “Notify the nearest hospital that we have an incoming patient with blunt force abdominal trauma. Looks like a couple broken lower ribs and I’m worried about her spleen.”

“Alright.”

“Request a female trauma surgeon if possible,” she added before looking back down at Marjan, “You with me, Mar?”

Never one to appear weak even on death’s door, Marjan nodded as much as she could, “Mhm.”

“Anything else hurt right now?”

“How a-about eve-everything…” she let out a shaky laugh, which only made her wince as it jostled her ribcage. That only solidified Michelle’s assumption about fractured ribs, which usually caused a rupture of the spleen in cases like this. She hadn’t seen anything pressing during her secondary assessment but she was worried about other internal injuries or shock setting in too fast.

“We’re going to get you on the backboard then, okay?” she motioned for Mateo to stand and grabbed the board from on top of the gurney, passing it over to Paul so he could slide it under her from his side. She crouched by her shoulder, catching her attention again.

“We’re going to roll you onto your side, you know the drill.”

The transfer was painful for everyone, with Marjan unable to hide her agony at being moved in such a way. They hated seeing her like this, knowing they were only causing her more pain, but it was necessary. She cried out as they slid the board under her body, allowing Michelle a second to check for any injuries on her back. Getting her up onto the gurney was less of an event, though her stats had dropped enough in the move for Nancy to get worried.

“Captain Blake,” she said, “BP dropped and O2 stats in the 80’s.”

“Okay, we need to get going, I’ll run oxygen in the bus.”

With that they transferred her across the parking lot, back to the safe area that had been designated for the civilians to gather. Tim was waiting among them, rushing over to ask what had happened. Michelle was preoccupied with talking to Owen, trying to tell him as simply as she could how her prognosis looked.

“She’ll need a CT to confirm but I think there’s a good chance her spleen ruptured,” she told him, “I know you needed to move her from the building but I do hope you all didn’t jostle her too much.”

“We were as careful as possible but I couldn’t risk anyone getting trapped,” he rubbed a hand over his face, “Take care of our girl, Michelle.”

“We’ve got her,” with that she hoisted herself into the back of the ambulance, beside Nancy who was already getting the oxygen mask situated for Marjan. Tim checked from the front to make sure they were ready and then started the rig, lights and sirens on the second they pulled out of the parking lot.

Michelle busied herself with starting an IV in her arm, knowing she would need fluids if they wanted to keep her stats relatively stable. Her oxygenation had improved but her blood pressure was still worrying, not to mention how thready her pulse seemed when Michelle pressed her fingers to her wrist momentarily. That was never a good sign, especially with the way her eyes unfocused and her response to stimuli had decreased.

“Marjan,” she leaned a bit closer to meet her glassy eyes, “You stay awake for me.”

“T-trying…” she murmured, “Hurts.”

“I know,” looking at her crewmate she asked for a dose of morphine that would hopefully help until they got her to the ER. Nancy administered the painkiller as quickly as she could, reminding Marjan that she was doing well and they would get her help.

When the other woman leaned towards the front to ask Tim about their ETA, Marjan reached out weakly. She caught Michelle’s hand, making the EMT look at her with concern.

“I-” she took a shaky breath and tried to blink away the tears that clouded her vision, “I don’t w-wanna… die this way.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Michelle told her firmly, “We’ve got you. You never let anything stop you before, Marjan, you can get through this.”

“M… Michelle?”

“I’m right here, Mar.”

“I-” her sentence never finished as the firefighter’s eyes rolled back slowly, unable to properly hear Michelle’s words of panic as she noticed what was happening. Marjan tried to stay alert, she really did, but the pain was too much. She felt like she was suffocating, the heavy weight in her abdomen slowly radiating up her body. She could feel hands on her, knew Michelle was with her, but she couldn’t focus. The only thing she was aware of was the aggressive beeping of the monitor that preceded her descent into unconsciousness.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

hiya !! i love you lots and lots !!💖 all your writing is absolute gold 🥺💕💕💕 your answers are so detailed and sweet, makes my heart go doki doki — if you’re still taking requests & it’s not too much trouble could i ask for C U Y for mozart perhaps ? many a thank 💖💕💖💕💖💕

Hello!! Omg of course you can sweetheart, thank you for such sweet praise! I do my best, I hope you enjoy these answers for our dearest Mozart~ 💖💖💖 Ily3!! it’s always a pleasure to see you!!! :D 💕💕💕

I placed a cut before the last one because it was long, but all you need to do is click to see the rest! All wholesome, no content warnings ;)

(These are so long you can hear the Mozart stan in me OTL the limit of my Wolfie love does not exist)

Fluffy ABC Headcanons listed here for requests!

C = Cuddling (how does he like to cuddle?)

(Awwwww shit, I’m softe ;-;)

Mozart tends to be a very private man about his love, so I don’t see him cuddling too much in any kind of public space. The only exception to this rule, however, is that blasted carriage! Though he’s a little mortified he needs comforting, he will melt into MC’s arms when they have a particularly bumpy/bad carriage ride. Usually he’ll try to content himself with holding her hand, or just chatting with her--leaning his head close to her shoulder. But she seems to sense how overwhelmed he is this time; how his hands are locked together to conceal their shaking, his jaw visibly tightening. She’ll draw him into her, settling his head against her shoulder/chest--right where he can hear her heartbeat. He’ll freeze at first before he sinks into her embrace, arms wrapping around her waist. His ears are burning with color, his fair skin easily revealing a blush, but she knows now isn’t the time to tease him about it. His breathing will calm bit by bit, and he’ll settle quickly as his grip around her tightens a little. He’s pouting but it’s clear just how much he needed this, murmuring “Danke, Meine Liebe.” She just drops a kiss to the side of his head, signalling there’s no need for any shyness or thanks, she’s happy to do it after all c;

Another way I see them cuddling is at night in their bed no sexy times, get your head out of the gutter kids. Usually he’ll be doing revisions and composing well into the night, mulling over possible adjustments and melodies single-mindedly. He’ll be sitting up against the headboard, sheet music in his lap as he reviews each page. He loves it when she just climbs into bed and settles against him; whether that means fully climbing into his arms and resting against his chest, or just laying her head against his stomach/lap. He’ll smile fondly and stroke her hair, letting the smooth texture calm him into clarity as she dozes off. These are the moments when inspiration finds him most powerfully, the lovely sight of his muse working wonders.

U = Upset (how does he act when she’s upset?)

Oh my god send help, send help he needs some milk!!! 

All jokes aside, I truly think Mozart is at a loss at the sight of her upset ;-;. If he’s not the source of the distress, he immediately goes into comfort and resolution mode. He will try to calm her with all the sensitivity she deserves, offering a hanky and holding her close if she’s crying. He hates to see her cry, but he also understands that in this moment she needs to let it all out, to just feel it through before they can do the work of fixing things. He'll murmur sweet nothings--not that he wants her to stop crying--but that he’s here for her, that it’s all going to be okay and that’s a promise. When she’s ready to talk or feeling up to sharing he will listen intently, silent as a grave, until she’s communicated her feelings. 

When she feels heard and comforted, only then will he ask her to wait a moment. He’ll return with freshly made hot cocoa--only the best for Meine Liebe--and hopes the warmth will be able to help soothe her further, focusing her senses elsewhere. If she wants it, he will play music for as long as it takes to relieve any stress/crying headaches. When she manages to fall asleep from the exhaustion, he’ll tuck her into bed and hold her close. He will turn off the lights, but by no means is he going to sleep. He will spend another few hours seething with rage at whoever/whatever it was that hurt her so that she doesn’t have to see him like that (he doesn’t want to distress her further). Or, if it’s something more abstract, he will spend that time trying to puzzle out a solution.

If she’s only mildly upset, he’ll call Schelm to the balcony and hope the fluffy friend will be able to take her mind off of things. He’ll hug her close and rock her gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, waiting until she just relaxes against him. As mentioned before, he’ll make hot cocoa, play music, ask her about the flowers she’s tending; just about anything he knows will make her perk up in an instant. He’s pretty simple and straightforward, but it’s because he pays attention to what works and he’s sincere--he’s very consistent in his affection. From afar it’s obvious he’s concerned because he will smile very gently at her, and whenever she turns around his face drops to his neutral/thoughtful expression; you can hear the cogs in his brain moving. It would be funny if the poor guy wasn’t so worried HAHA

Now then, here comes the real doozy. While it happens less and less the deeper they get into their relationship (their understanding of how the other works solidifies into trust), now and again Mozart pulls a stupid. He will know immediately when he’s fucked up because her expression tightens and shuts down, concealing every feeling from him. (She's hyperaware that she can sometimes be more irrational than him, so she locks down her thoughts and emotions.) 

She’ll walk away because she doesn’t want to explode and needs a moment to just calm down, reassess. He knows she needs time--and so does he to figure out a proper way to apologize--but fuck if those few days don’t make him wither in self-loathing. He hates it when he says things he doesn’t mean, things that were remnants of a bygone era because they were sentiments that deserved to die. He hates that when he gets stressed out he is prone to verbally lashing out; and he needs to learn how to work at a reasonable pace instead of doing too much and hating every second of his life. He needs to find balance, both for his own sake and because he can’t stand that look. The look that says “not you, too. Please, don’t.” You want the quickest way to gut Mozart? There you have it. Part of it was that she had given him that same look when he first yelled at/intimidated her in that first week at the mansion, and it’s still something he deeply regrets doing. He shouldn’t have frightened her when she was already scared out of her wits and threatened by Arthur.  The mere prospect of stooping to that level makes him nauseous and angry he would ever act with such indiscretion; he expects better of himself and he intends to be better than that. He may be a vampire now, but that doesn’t give him grounds to be a monster.

He doesn’t know squat about how to love someone, and maybe he doesn’t even deserve to be with her--but he’ll be damned if he hurts her without trying to amend what he’s done. When she’s calmed down she’ll return to him and try to apologize for the distance, but he won’t let her. He’ll tell her if anyone needs to apologize it’s him, and that he really does feel horrible about what he said. He’s going to promise to be more careful about his workload from now on, since that tends to be what makes him snap. But more importantly, he’s going to try to amend the behavior regardless of that. Anything that hurts her isn’t worth doing; he firmly believes that.

MC doesn’t worry too much after the few times it happens because he crushes the behavior in its tracks very, very quickly in the aftermath.

Y = Yes (how would he propose to her?)

Honestly? Mozart is the type to be a classic romantic when it comes to proposing to his beloved. While one can argue he really only takes music seriously, the same can be said for the person he has chosen to hold dear to his heart. He will spare no expense--no extravagance--in the process of wooing her. He believes that he needs to offer a proposal worthy of her and nothing less if he should seek to secure her hand in marriage. 

He pulls out all the stops. He plans it all out to the minute. Buys her the perfect dress, rouge and assorted accessories, and tells her to prepare to enjoy herself all night--no other plans. She agrees easily, though she’s a little flustered by how much he’s spoiling her. When the time comes for them to head out he enters her room with an enormous bouquet of roses, and she’s just speechless as she seeks to soak them in a vase before they go. Dressed to the nines, he escorts her to a lovely restaurant where they dine together. She’s sparkling in her attire, nothing short of dazzling; it’s not just the champagne that’s bringing a light blush to his face. He spends most of that night psyching himself up, working to seem normal, and losing himself in her beauty. Not that he doubted his course of action before this moment--it just strikes him even more deeply how precious she is to him. He would never be here, smiling and laughing and enjoying himself, if it wasn’t for her.

And more than anything, he doesn’t want to give her up to anyone else. He wants to be the one to spoil her like this, wants to be the person she goes to first when she needs something. He wants to be the only one to know her most intimate thoughts and desires. He wants to be the one to make her smile like this, to make delight shimmer in those eyes--to be on the receiving end of such excited chatter. Every part of her is so very dear to him; the mere thought of giving her up makes him feel like he’s been hollowed out.

After dinner, he takes her to a concert hall he had rented out for the occasion. He plays a moving collection of pieces that she inspired (only the best) since coming to the mansion, since she filled his life with so much color. She’s already in tears at this point, and his heart aches at the sight of her eyes glistening--as moved as he is by music, one of their greatest commonalities.

He dries her tears gently with a hanky when it’s over, rising from the bench and coaxing her up with him. When she gazes at him in question, he drops to one knee and reveals the ring that has been heavy in his coat pocket all night. He considered a more extensive appeal, but something about rehearsing a proposal felt wrong, felt too wooden. Instead, he went with the words that were resounding from deep within his heart, the feeling that had brought him to this moment.

“Meine Liebe, you are the only reason my music can continue to thrive. But more importantly,” he presses a light kiss to her hand, squeezing it gently, “You are the only reason I can thrive as surely as my music does. I spent so long lost to myself; I had forgotten why I loved what I did in the first place.” His eyes are lowered, remnants of a surpassed shame lingering in his features. “If not for you, I suspect I’d still be ripping up half-filled scores, half-mad with frustration.” 

“Wolf…” her voice is soft, but full of sympathy. It was that tender heart that saved him, that made him really able to live again.

“The prospect of life without you...I can’t imagine it anymore. I want to be the one to make you smile for the rest of your life, to ensure that these tears can only ever be happy ones. Will you make me the happiest man alive in return? Will you marry me?”

Needless to say MC goes straight back to crying after managing a breathless yes, and Mozart sags with relief before pulling her tight into his arms. He slips the ring onto her finger with no shortage of pride, as perfect on her hand as he’d imagined it would be. 

Following his proposal, Mozart is even more smitten than ever. Whenever he wakes up before she does, he’ll gently take her left hand and marvel at the sight of the ring throwing rainbows in the morning light, sighing blissfully. When MC stops by to bring him Rouge/Blanc or coffee and a snack during the day, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the sight of it. “It’s nothing, MC!!! Composing is just...going well today...” Somebody help him his uwus are spilling everywhere

Mozart be like: look at me. serotonin is stored within the MC.

[nat-20s]

this is a Wild™ prompt so no pressure to actually do it, but i’ve had the scenario of “somehow s5 martin ends up in s1-s2, has to figure out how to deal with that” and if u want a narrower thing, maybe how he reacts to seeing someone again/for the first time? (Sasha, Juergen Leitner, Prentiss, etc)

Please have fun with Whatever this is:

“Don’t go wandering off in the middle of the apocalypse” seems like a pretty simple rule to follow. “Especially don’t go through any weird doors, Christ, Martin, how can that possibly be a good idea on any level, do you remember nothing from the last five years of your existence?” also seems like a generally easy thing to keep in mind. And yet, Martin is guilty of the same sin that appears to be intrinsic of all of those who find themselves under the influence of the eye, his need to know something overriding his common sense. In his defense, the door was only like 2 meters away and he wasn’t planning on going through it or even touching it at all. He just wanted to look, because it appeared to be made of a liquid version of frosted glass, and it was translucent enough that he could sort of make out the other side of it. As he got closer, he confirmed that the other side of the door a: definitely didn’t match the rest of their own little hell-scape, and b: seemed familiar in a way he couldn’t quite make sense of.  

Of course, in the dream logic of their reality, you don’t have to place your hand on the door knob in order for you to enter some place new. All it takes is getting within a foot of the door, squinting to futilely try and bring the scene across from him into better focus, and a blink and suddenly he is not where he’s supposed to be. Instead, he is staring down the hallway of his former apartment complex, watching as a familiar woman attired in a red dress and countless words is steadily knocking at his door. There’s a weight in his hands that wasn’t there before, and he looks down to find a fire extinguisher in prime position to be fired. Huh. How serendipitous.

Martin’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel afraid, not in this moment. It appears that for all the two weeks spent hiding from her still frequent more often than not in his nightmares, for all that the sight of canned peaches still makes him nauseous, in his (probably) waking hours, she is far less intimidating than the myriad of horrors he has faced since. Or, perhaps, it’s simply that he is actually equipped to face her, and that takes away some of the teeth of his fear. Any semblance of preparation, of a plan, has given him comfort when he had little else, and that continues on now. Admittedly, though, while he does have preparation for this encounter, his plan is little more than “get Prentiss off of my fucking lawn and then see where we go from there” before he’s striding towards her.

He’s able to get close to her, about as close as he’s willing to get, before she takes any notice of him. Once he’s about five feet away, she turns her head, and briefly pauses that incessant, infuriating knocking. She gets as far as saying, “Oh, aren’t you inter-” before he sends a spray of foam directly to her face. It’s far from enough to kill her, but it’s enough to kill off some of the worms, so there’s no way that it doesn’t at least sting quite a bit. The CO2 makes her stutter and take several steps back, swatting at the foam at an attempt to get it off.

He considers pulling the handle once again, but he’s really more concerned with getting her to leave than hurting her further, and he doesn’t to run out of ammo this early should she recover and decide to go on the attack. However, he likes to think he’s not too much of a fool, so he keeps the nozzle trained on her as she becomes less frantic.

Finally she stills her swatting, breathing heavily and glaring at him, as much as she can make any sort of facial expression with what’s left of her face. “That was rather rude of you, little one. And we are trying to offer you an escape from being so tragically singular.”

Martin raises the nozzle slightly higher, just enough to bring focus to the motion as he replies, “Yeah, well, it was rude of you to stalk my apartment for two weeks and try to kill me and my coworkers, so forgive me if I don’t feel all that grateful for your oh so generous offer.”

“Hmm. So you are his future. That’s a shame. We are made so loneliness is impossible, it would not wrap itself so throughly into your form. Our love could still be given to you, in this time.”

“I have no interest in your hollow version of love. He has no interest in it. Now, leave.”

Prentiss give an airy wave of her hand, and the worms that had been trying to find any crack in the sealed door come crawling back to their home. “Fine, fine. This was just a bit of fun, anyway. I’ll be seeing him soon enough anyway.”

Martin makes a hum of acknowledgement, though he response makes little difference to her taking her leave. There’s a few silver-grey disgusting stragglers that be promptly and throughly kills with a combination of the fire extinguisher and some well placed stomps. It’s only after he finishes this that the hesitation hits him, the trepidation curling low in his stomach until it solidifies into something akin to fear. He’ll take a worm monster over facing himself any time of any day.

What would he even say to himself? Good luck, the next years of your life are completely fucked? Hey, congratulations, you actually made it to your 30s, so that’s a bit of surprise, but you’re almost certainly not going to get to 35? Don’t talk to a man named Peter Lukas, or maybe just avoid any Lukases in general? Maybe he should lie, tell him things are going to turn out okay when they’re definitely not?

Wait, okay, maybe he has something with the Peter tip. If there’s an opportunity to give this version of him some advice that could prevent future grief, he might as well go for it. It’s like, how badly could he actually mess up the time line with his interference? The world could end again? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Upon the realization that basically no matter what he does right now there’s basically no where to go up but up, he makes an executive decision to go in there and confront himself head on. Hell, maybe that’s the Thing that’s needed to get him back to Jon.

As he goes to turn the door handle he also, briefly, thinks that he should bring up that he’s madly in love with someone who feels the same. It’s not immediately relevant for trying to prevent some of the mistakes he’s made, but Martin remembers being 28, utterly convinced both that love was real and something that was completely unattainable for something like him. Being wrong on the second part of that conviction is one of the few true comforting things he can provide.

The door is, of course, locked, so he goes with plan B. Turns out fire extinguishers are rather handy for smashing things, and he brings it down several times in rapid succession until the knob breaks. There’s one step down, but he had forgotten about the furniture barricade that had been put in place. He can get the door open about 7 centimeters before it refuses to budge, and he begins to wonder if all of this is an exercise in futility. At least his voice won’t be muffled when he calls out, “Martin? You in there?”

There’s nothing but silence, and he sighs and leans his head against the apartment door. “Seriously, Martin, could you respond? And maybe move some of this furniture? If you’re dead that means things are way more messed up than I expected.”

After a beat, a strained voice calls out, “Oh, so a bad impersonation of me is part of your dumb monster powers now? Piss off!”

After a groan and an eyeroll, Martin calls back “I’m not-!” before cutting himself off. He meant to say “I’m not a monster, I’m you” but both of those things are only about 60-70% true. Instead he goes with, “I’m not an impersonation. If I was something pretending to be someone else to get inside, wouldn’t I pick one of your coworkers coming to get you? Like Tim or Jon or Sa- you know, um, one of them?”

Silence.

“You have a peephole, right? You could look through it, confirm that I’m not worm-infested?”

He doesn’t hear a response with words, but he does hear the sounds of motion coming from inside. After a few minutes, the furniture is pushed aside, and the door is opened for him. Jesus, the guy on the other side of the door looks like shit. He probably doesn’t look much better, apocalypse grime covering every inch of him, but still. The man in front of him has deep bags under his eyes and a gauntness to his face that will take a while to ease. Worst of all, he looks painfully young and painfully afraid, and while Martin can recognize himself on a logical level, there’s a forced disconnect that makes him feel like he’s looking at a stranger. The knife that’s being held between them probably doesn’t help matters.

His former self’s voice shakes with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. “You got the hair color wrong. And the age.”

“That’s because I’m 32. Also, still not an impersonation.”

“My hair goes white in 5 years?”

“Not in the natural way. You know those hokey stories where people are so scared their hair turns white? That’s...sort of what happened. And it’s not going to happen to you, if I can help it.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, as the younger Martin’s face twists up. It’s a lot, Martin thinks it’s a lot and he’s far more experienced in the reality of the esoteric, but sometimes things being a lot is unavoidable, and he’s pretty sure time travel is one of those cases. He shrugs in response to the younger’s confusion, and says, “Can I come in? I think I’m here to dole out some advice, and I’d honestly prefer to do while not standing in worm corpses.”

He’s studied for a few brief moments, before he’s told, “You broke my doorknob.”

“You’re never gonna live here again, and it’s not like you were getting the security deposit back anyway. Does it matter?”

The younger one’s face collapses, despondent when he replies, “But. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Martin’s been experiencing a nauseating mixture of anger, pity, and compassion while seeing his past self, but that’s enough to kick in his care-taking instincts, and he really just wants to wrap the guy in a blanket. That’s not going to help either of them, but what he says next might. With a frankly ridiculous wave of fondness for that uncomfortable cot (or, more accurately, for the memory of a certain someone offering said cot), “You will. After you go back to the institute, you, um, you won’t have to stay here again.”

Martin, junior edition, only looks more lost, but he does step aside to let Martin inside the apartment even if he doesn’t lose his death grip on the knife. Martin pulls the door behind him, and as he does so, it transforms into the door that got him in this mess, so looks like he made the right choice. It doesn’t immediately take him (hopefully) back to his own time, but Martin’s gut is telling him that he won’t be spending much longer here. “Okay, so, you have a notebook around here, right? Because I’m about to dump quite a bit of information on you all at once, and I happen to know that our memory for things of this sort is not fantastic.”

The younger one glances over to the table where a notebook and pen are laying and while he moves towards it, he’s clearly hesitant to occupy both his hands with writing. The precaution makes sense, but Martin’s getting tired of it nonetheless due to a combination of running out of time and generally being tired of people seeing him as a threat. With a sigh, he tries his best to evenly say, “The next few years are going to be, um, messed up, to say the least, but hopefully if you have more information than I did, they’ll be less messed up.”

Younger Martin finally concedes, putting the knife down to pick up the pen, and flips the notebook open. Primed to start writing, he gives slight nod of his head to tell Martin to keep talking. Martin takes a breath, lets it out, and spills everything he can think of. “Okay, most immediately, CO2 kills Prentiss’s worms, and enough of it will kill her. A fire suppressant system will do the trick, but make sure there’s a way to actually trigger it inside of the archives. Makes sure the weird spooky table doesn’t get destroyed, it seems like it should be destroyed, this instinct is wrong. Generally speaking, you should get a buddy system set up, as it’s usually when people go off on their own that particularly bad things start to happen, whether it’s on an investigation or going to America. Speaking of, don’t let Jon go to America. Don’t let Tim go to stop the Unknowing. The Unknowing won’t work anyway, but you’ll probably still want to have the circus blown up, just make sure everyone is doing it from a distance. Don’t let yourself work for Peter Lukas, actually don’t interact with Peter Lukas, except maybe to, I don’t know, hit him with a shovel. And most importantly, kill Elias Bouchard as soon as possible-”

“-What?!-”

“-and in particular make sure you destroy the eyes, that’s vital to this whole thing. Turns out he’s actually a 200 year old scumbag named Jonah Magnus, you know, the founder of the institute, and by getting rid of him, you’ll save yourself a quite literal world of pain.”

“I don’t, what, I don’t think I could kill somebody-”

Martin felt a sharp tug towards the door, and he knew his time here was up. “Oh, wow, I really have changed, huh. Anyway, uh, final notes: you’re not going to end up alone and unloved and forgotten before you’re even fully gone, so feel free to lay that fear that occupies a disconcertingly large amount of your mental space to rest. Good luck, and try not to die!”

Before he can hear his other self’s response, he’s back in the wastelands he currently calls a twisted version of home, and Jon’s arms are wrapped around his neck in a fierce hug. As far as he can tell, nothing’s changed from his little literal trip down memory lane. There’s a few explanations for it, but since Martin’s not going to go out of his way trying to prove any of them, he choses to believe in the one that’s the most hopeful; that somewhere, out there, with some well timed words, there’s a universe that has turned out kinder than their own.

[gingus-doon]

For AUs... How about an AU where Keiji and Megumi both survive the First Trial? I'd like your take on that :)

you have opened pandora's box! i hope you're prepared to read a whole ass essay JSHDKABD

BUT SERIOUSLY TY THIS IS SO INTERESTING!! i saw your post on this already and commented on it then (in the tags ofc JGVKDDJDJ), bUT that was the meta of yours that inspired me to think that, maybe, keiji wouldn't be the way he is without that particular first trial and its outcome..? so i'll be operating under that assumption for these scenarios, so as not to feed a fed horse! (as peta would say,)

this does seem like quite the task, considering that it would require both conceptualizing megumi when we have minimal information about her, and reconceptualizing keiji to the keiji before the death game, when we also have minimal information on how he thinks in general... (and his characterization in this is all based on a theory to begin with, so it's not the most steady foundation lol)

of course, their first trial would need to be something else for this au… to keep things simple, it'd be best if it was neutral– neither him saving or not saving megumi, to neither restore nor forsake his faith in himself. megumi saving him would probably leave some positive impression of her on him too, so a trial which includes none of those things would be mosy fitting. but the trial itself isn't what's interesting, so i won't go into it further djdksbdk.

assuming they don't have a trial together, they'd meet each other the first time with everyone else-- i'm sure megumi would recognize keiji after the initial shock of how different he looks. and even if keiji tried to distance himself from her, she'd mention she knows keiji right away. i do think she'd have quite a bit of logic in her, but not an unsympathetic amount! however, she has been shown to throw morality to the wind when protecting keiji in the past (though asunaro may have been involved in the coverup in ways we don't yet know), so i think she'd do something similar here. she'd say she knows him and possibly that he's a police officer to solidify his standings amongst the other participants, assuming that keiji doesn't lie for himself first.

speaking of what keiji would do… so, i'm reconceptualizing him as more solemn and maybe a bit less guarded? however, it's also important to keep some level of his chill with his stupid grin and avoidance, because that constitutes a large part of how he copes with his trauma. a keiji wrestling between solemn genuineness and avoidant nonchalance, protector and sacrificer, logic and emotion! a mid-way between the two extremes of before the shooting and during the normal death game. definitely more stoic, though… less smiley but not brooding either. i think a more stoic, perhaps more reserved personality pre-death game would make a lot of sense for keiji, considering that he has absolutely no friends.

BUT ANYWAY!! back to what i was saying– i think megumi would lie in keiji's favour, because she wants to get him out of there alive (sympathetic megumi ftw!) but she may hold it over his head a bit, if only to keep him in line with her plans by means of guilt. it's worth it, though, if she can make up for what happened with the shooting– really, she couldn't believe it when she saw keiji! after he quit, i bet they'd barely seen each other since. the bags under his eyes make his face look so gaunt and haunted compared to how he was when he was a kid…

she still treats him like a kid, too. they slowly fall into the mentor-pupil relationship again they had before, by habit, like ancient cogs beginning to turn for the first time in years. but, this isn't all easygoing, of course.

i don't think megumi would apologise for the coverup. at least, not right away. she seemed very keen on ignoring it back when the shooting happened, so despite any guilt she'd have around the incident, she doesn't bring it up. keiji's somewhat content to keep it that way as well, considering that facing what he did would shatter him. but being with megumi is like facing the shooting… i'm sure being with her like that would bring up bad memories and relight slumbering resentment. he'd eventually want an apology, an explanation, something… how soon "eventually," would be, though, i'm not sure. especially considering that keiji wants to survive, and megumi will help him do that.

though, i think keiji's will to live in this scenario would be a little weaker, oddly enough. because when he kills megumi, that plunges him into the confirmation of himself as a sinner-- he has more to run from, and if he's killed two people now for the sake of his well-being (first because he feared for his life, second in hopes of being rid of his trauma), why not do it again? he's not going to dwell on it anyway, he's not going to look…

but keiji in this scenario is wrestling with himself. he'd still like to be a protector. maybe… it's still possible? maybe he's not damned just yet? maybe there's worth in sacrificing his life for the more vulnerable.

and that internal conflict could potentially clash harshly against megumi's goals of getting them out alive by any means necessary. she's not malicious, and she wouldn't try to get someone killed for the fuck of it, but when it comes down to it, she's just there for them.

i do think megumi would feel guilty for the children, though… gin and kanna are so young. sara is so bright-eyed and clever, it almost reminds her of what keiji was like back then… but she's willing to shoulder the guilt of murder for keiji this time, if only to finally atone for what she did to him and to save herself as well.

there's a few ways this could go though!! i have about four. 1) megumi is ruthlessly logical as keiji is in the actual game, and keiji goes along with it for the sake of his own survival. they end up being the sole survivors of the death game; keiji hates megumi and is entirely broken // 2) same as the last one except the rest of them thwart megumi and keiji's evil plans and maybe keiji and / or megumi die.. :v // 3) megumi is still ruthlessly logical BUT keiji's resentment of megumi and his morals push him away from her and he works against her to protect everyone // 4) megumi starts out logically, but noticing how keiji has changed as a result of his trauma and how cold he's become (she can see the same strains of her "forget morality, save yourself" logic in him and some of his decisions) she decides to let herself fall to emotion and either sacrifices herself for keiji or someone else.

and, some misc. things i didn't get to mention above....!!

i REALLY loved your idea of megumi being team mom. with the above in mind, it's exactly parallel to keiji's role in the normal death game! a should-be protector wracked by guilt who abuses their power regardless. and to think of keiji potentially taking on the role of the abuser while also possibly being one of the vulnerable underneath the force of that power… it's just really interesting!

depressing parallels aside though, i think megumi would be a nice sensible mom figure for this group of idiots sjfhddj. maybe a little blunt or initially distant, but ultimately caring.

as for her role in a wider sense, i think megumi would actually be more trustworthy than keiji is in the normal death game. although she has the disadvantage of sexism working against her, she's actually in a police outfit and lacks the shady appearance. i'm certain she could conduct herself in a way that would garner everyone's trust-- she wouldn't have any questions she needed to dodge like keiji in the main game, unless keiji brought up the shooting, but even then, that's much less severe than murder. there wouldn't be any creepy flirting with her either, not only because there's no questions to dodge in the first place, but i think she'd opt to use her authority to harshly shut down any opposition, like she did with keiji after the shooting. and when that fails, she'd fall back on logical and / or manipulative rebuttals. i also think a large part of why nao and reko specifically don't like keiji is because he's a man! a creepy man at that, and that feeling really is justified, but the point is that megumi's a woman, a respectable woman, so they wouldn't have the same qualms with her. she could also prove herself to be a more capable leader than sara, being older and still having a cool head. she'd very much come off as a reliable leader if she tried to, i think.

but back to happier things!! i think keiji would take on a less authoritative role if under megumi's wing. it's hard to say exactly how his role would change, considering that we don't know if keiji saw the percentage papers normally, and if he did in this au, would megumi as well and would they both try to cling onto sara for survival's sake? BUT i'm not going to get into that, i just want to say that i think it'd be neat if keiji took up an older brother position to in group! kind of the same as the normal death game, except he has less control over what the group does and is more on the same standings as the other participants. i think he'd get closer to being a genuine protector in this scenario, fail sooner at his attempts to avoid emotional attachments to the other participants, and i also think he'd do a lot less of the creepy flirting!! because really, the only reason he did that anyway was to dodge questions, and that'd be a lot less necessary if 1) he had dependable megumi vouching for him from the beginning, therefore making him less suspicious to the others // 2) megumi's death would no longer be a topic of concern cos it didn't happen! // 3) if someone attempted to dig up info about his past or something of the sort, something that could get in the way of the group's trust of him and therefore keiji and megumi's chances of survival, megumi could likely shut it down as she has a good reputation amongst the group. besides, the only one who would say shit like that is shin, and people don't trust him very much anyways sjfjsbfnd.

i think keiji and sara would potentially have a less manipulative and more wholesome friendship in this au ahhh ;<;

as much as a manipulative dick megumi is to keiji in this au, she gets softer when his hallucinations seem to be affecting him more, or when he has nightmares. (CAN YOU TELL I'M A SUCKER FOR FLAWED BUT GENUINE MENTORSHIPS YET)

i've started to become STAUNCHLY AGAINST the notion that keiji killed megumi maliciously or that he would kill megumi maliciously!! because logically, it'd probably be more beneficial to have such a trustworthy ally in the death game (maybe not trustworthy to him, but to everyone else) and emotionally, I JUST THINK THEY'D HAVE BEEN CLOSE BEFORE OKAY AND I DON'T LIKE THE IDEA THAT HE'D KILL HER 😭😭 (that's more my emotions than his LOL, but i think it's so important that megumi's murder was an inactive murder that keiji was unsure of to the moment it happened and beyond!! you could say his angst about killing megumi during the 2nd main game is more about him killing another person, regardless of whether or not it was megumi, BUT i like to think the fact that it was megumi SPECIFICALLY was significant to him.) so that's why throughout i haven't really entertained the idea of him trying to kill her or anything like that, especially considering the theory i'm weaving this au under, which dictates keiji would likely be a lil softer + more emotional :>

CONSIDER,,, in that scenario i posed where megumi sacrifices herself for someone / keiji: while she's dying or before her death, she hugs keiji and tells him she's sorry, it wasn't his fault. no one's ever told him this before because he's refused to talk about what happened with anyone after her dismissal of it. after she says that, though, it feels as though he's let out a breath he's been holding for years and some of the weight of the shooting is finally gone.

that's all i can think to say at the moment, SO… to sum things up– a tl;dr, if you will--

(i never actually watched this show so pls don't kill me if the casting choices are weird 😭😭)

i hope this wasn't too derivative of yours or too horribly self indulgent to read LOL. this wasn't nearly as thorough as i could've been, but it might've been a bit much to consider more branching paths ajdbsns. thank you for letting me rant about keiji and megumi, i was thinking about them earlier today so it's nice to be given a chance to ramble about them again!!

[charliesradiodemon]

Arranged Marriage AU (Part 1)

AU where Lucifer arranges Alastor with Charlie to help strengthen the royal family and ensure the safety of the house. It’s just business.

(This was sent from my phone, sorry if the format is messed up. I came up with this idea and I just had to write about it. I’ll probably continue it, we’ll see!)

(EDIT 2/10/2020: So I’ve been rereading old chapters and I’m still not satisfied with them. I’ve decided to edit the chapters on Tumblr so they now line up with the AO3 version. Sorry for making ya’ll wait so long, I just want to get this right ^.^)

It was an average, quiet morning at the Happy Hotel. The fiery red hue of Hell's skies had just lightened and most of the few denizens of the old hotel were still fast asleep.

 However Charlie was already up, eager and ready for the day with a smile. Every morning she had to coordinate and prepare for breakfast. Afterward, she'd set up the various events and activities for the tenants to occupy themselves with. Today there would be a group therapy session after breakfast and some physical activities to let the guests blow off some stream.

 It was going to be another nice and quiet day for her. At least it was supposed to be.

 She heard the front door of the hotel ring from the kitchen so she put on her happiest face and marched out to greet her next potential guest.

 However what met her were two of the most powerful wide-grinning demons in Hell.

 “Charlotte, how I missed you!” Lucifer cried out and leaned down to give his only daughter the biggest hug she’d ever received from him. The abruptness of it made her whole body tense.

 Charlie tentatively returned the hug “D-dad?” as soon as she spoke, Lucifer pulled away but kept his hand on either of Charlie’s shoulders. “Uh what are you doing with Alastor?” She leaned to look around her father to point at Alastor, who stood close by just observing the interaction with his signature grin splayed over his face.

 Alastor made frequent visits to the hotel to check up on it whenever he had nothing else to do. That was fairly often, but recently he'd been away and seemingly busy. This was the first time Charlie's seen him in a little over a week. And he showed up with her father nonetheless. With how busy the King of Hell always was, it made Charlie wonder how a mortal soul like Alastor managed to get him away from his duties. Hell, he never even bothered to come visit his own daughter until today.

 Lucifer nearly pushed Charlie away to move back to Alastor’s side. “Dear, you are getting older now and I know you have this dream thing… or whatever, but I think it’s time for you to think of the future!” He gestured his cane toward Alastor, who still stood there, saying nothing. “I know he’s a lot younger than you but what is a few centuries or two?” He leaned on his cane and chuckled.

 Charlie had no words and only looked back and forth at the two looming figures as if it was her way of processing. In reality her mind was blank. It was too early for this and suddenly Charlie felt like it was a mistake getting up this morning.

 Alastor finally chimed in with his chipper radio-backed voice. “What your father is trying to say is that we should get hitched! Tie the knot! Take the plunge! Conjugate-“

 “What?!” Charlie’s exclamation startled Lucifer enough to where he nearly fell off his apple-topped cane. Charlie's heart dropped to her gut. Was this really happening? “D-dad you can’t be serious right?” Charlie’s laughed nervously. When she looked back to her father with a concerned smile, he did not look amused in the slightest. He stared her down with a stern glare that she knew all too well. “This is just a jo-…” she stopped and shut her mouth when the elder demon's frown deepened. She looked away from her father and she felt whatever confidence she had melt away in an instance.

 It was really happening. She feared this day would come, but not so soon! Charlie knew that one day her parents could possibly urge her into an emergency marriage at any point in her life. With their warning, they loosely promised her the freedom to live as she wished as long as she would answer to her duty when they needed her to. But this was over a century ago. And as a young, eager and very naive young demoness, Charlie happily accepted. They even gave her time to think it over, but she was young and stupid- something neither Lilith or Lucifer understood. 

 Alastor’s laugh track pulled Charlie’s attention back to him. “My dear this is certainly not a joke. I’m afraid I’m deathly serious,” Alastor’s impossibly wide smile widened even further and it sent chills down Charlie’s spine. How could he be so calm and nonchalant about this? He was entering a role far beyond his station as a mortal soul. Alastor was always impulsive and acted on anything he thought could entertain him; he could be making a huge mistake.

 “Al, why are you doing this? I know you have no interest in me, you don’t even give a damn about me!” She shot an accusatory finger toward him which, to Charlie’s surprise worked well enough to make him back off with an amused smile. Charlie knew her father would disapprove of this behavior but she didn’t care. But she dared not look at her father. If she even glanced at him, she’d lose this momentum.

 Alastor only seemed more intrigued and amused at the situation. They'd known each other for six months and despite his intimidating nature, Charlie warmed up to him fairly quickly. It was always interesting how confident Charlie could be around him when no one else could. If he were honest to himself, Alastor could say that he'd warmed up to the unusually warm demon princess. She was one of the few that he could bear to be around for longer than five minutes despite her raging naivety and cheerful nature. Charlie awoke something unusual within him and he wanted to explore this pleasant feeling he would always have around her even further. It was as if Lucifer answered his prayers when the King of Hell himself showed up to his front door with a proposition. 

 “On the contrary dear Charlie, you do catch my interest in a way. I just think this arrangement can better solidify our partnership into something more permanent,” he bent close to whisper in her ear. “Your father proposed this arrangement and I think it’s an excellent idea. I believe the both of us will benefit from this.” He straightened his back and the pair turned their gazes to Lucifer who even seemed to be a tad nervous himself with both eyes on him. 

 Charlie sighed. 'This must be important then if dad's this spooked...'  Her father was the most feared demon in Hell. He'd ruled Hell for over countless millennia and over those millennia he'd come across many bumps in the road. Whatever was happening now, it was important for Charlie to marry Alastor.  

 Charlie turned her gaze back to the taller demon and caught his attention again by stretching up closer to his ear. “What are you scheming?” She hissed through her teeth so only Alastor could hear.

 The taller demon’s smile didn’t waver. In fact, he chuckled with an accompanying audience laughing with him. He reached down to grasp her hand and held it up between them. This was a secret he couldn't disclose, no matter how much he liked Charlie. He wanted to figure out the secret to his odd notions around her all by himself. “Nothing! Like I said, your father proposed this. My guess is that he wants to prevent me from harming you and your family,” he said nonchalantly. Charlie shivered at the ease of his words. It was as if the man had indeed considered it at one point. “He’s quite the businessman. Offering his daughter in exchange for peace!” he belted a strong chortle “Oh… how wonderful. I couldn’t help but accept. It was certainly a wild turn of events even I couldn’t have anticipated!” His wide smile grew in size and Charlie felt his tight grip tighten. 

 He mixed in a bit of truth to his lie. He truly didn't know exactly why Lucifer came to him asking to be his son-in-law nor did he ever foresee this wild turn of events.  

 She tugged a couple of times before slipping from his grasp and took a step back. “Right… Al you know this is a big deal right? And I’m not exactly single either you know!” Charlie explained with a strained smile and a nervous chuckle. “Do you really want to marry me because you’re bored?”

 “Yes!” He immediately answered. His face lit up like a child in a candy store. “It’s nothing I could have imagined! It’s nothing anyone could have imagined! Who would have ever thought that I would become part of the royal family of Hell! Hahaha! We haven’t even announced the news to the denizens of Hell yet and I’m already simply elated!” He clasped his hands together as the sound of the laugh track came and went once more. He continued on a tangent of something when Charlie began tuning him out.

 The young demon heiress leaned over to look at her father’s reaction to all of this. His apparent nervousness seemed to dissipate, but he still held onto the apple atop his cane tightly. He shot her a look of expectancy and nodded his head at her.

 'I know...' Charlie internally sighed.

 Charlie crossed her arms and sighed warily. It was still early and yet she already felt drained. Too many thoughts spun in her head and she didn’t know how to feel. Devastated? Angry? Sad? All of the above maybe? It didn’t matter. She knew this day was going to come, but she didn't know that it was going to be so soon- or with a mortal soul like Alastor. Though she guessed it could have been worse. She could be engaged to Harold Von Eldritch, her absolutely abhorrent ex-boyfriend in a political marriage.

It was strange how the engagement didn't feel so heavy. Charlie almost felt like laughing it off. Maybe it was because of the ridiculousness of the situation? Her father and her business partner walked into her hotel and imposed a marriage on her. That was pretty crazy already. Or maybe it was because she was engaged to one of the most powerful demons in Hell and he was marrying her all because he was bored.

Part 2 HERE