#I haven’t watched it yet bc I had to work a sixth day and left the house bang on the release. biphobia

[poetryincostume]

Oil and water. Wasn’t meant to be

Violet von Arcane Jacket, 2021-23

Pigskin suede, lamb nappa, silk, brass

[pregnant-piggy]

I’ll take care of you

Draco Malfoy x reader

Request:  hey! can you write a draco x reader where they are in a new relationship and the readers parents are abusive but they don’t beat her bc they are all about the image but for torture they barely feed her when she is at their house on holidays so when draco sees her again after the holidays he notice that she is extremely thin and he is really worried and you continue thank you!! (anon)

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: talking of abuse (nothing really explicit, but it’s talked of)

A/N: I didn’t want to write this too explicitly, because it’s a heavy subject. I am sorry it took so long. I hope you like it :)

- - - - - - 

The Hogwarts express blew steam into the hot air as platform 9¾ was crowded with people. Families said their last goodbyes to each other, parents kissing their children and already longing for Christmas when most of their children would come back or sighing happily as they now finally had some peace. There were first years nervously standing beside their trunks, staring at the ink red train. Birds squeaked in their cages and cats that had escaped ran between the people.

You sat in an empty compartment, staring at the scene on the other side of the window. Your parents had dropped you off earlier, before the crowd. Their goodbyes had been quick and cold, like always.

Resting your head against the back of the seat, you closed your eyes. A deep breath calmed the nerves. You had been going to this school for five years and yet you were scared. Your sixth year was standing ahead of you, a year full of exams, new teachers and more stress. But you were looking forward to it.

A whistle was blown and the final students hopped on the train. A few hung out of the window, waving goodbye to the people on the platform until they disappeared from view. The decor of the station soon changed for the scenery of the green fields. Lands of grass and wildflowers passed by in a blur as the train made speed.

For the first time since you had gotten home after last year, you relaxed. Your compartment was empty, but you didn't mind. You embraced the silence and stared out of the window to the green haze.

The voice of the person you hadn't seen in so many weeks and whom you had missed dearly, broke your thoughts.

‘I thought you weren't even on the train,’ Draco said and he sat down next to you, but not before kissing you softly on your lips. You rested your head on his shoulder and breathed in his calming scent.

You and Draco had gotten together in the last month before the summer. The Slytherin boy you had had a crush on for months back then, had answered to your feelings by asking you out on a date.

- -- -

Three Gryffindor students were talking loudly in the library as you tried to concentrate on the work in front of you. Herbiology had never been your strongest subject and you needed to get a good grade on this test or who knows what would happen.

Just as you were reading about the healing powers of the pink and purple plants you had been studying this semester, someone else entered the library. You didn't need to look longer than a second to see who it was; you could recognise Draco from miles away.

He loitered at the bookcase and you quickly turned back to your book, before he would realise you were staring at him. But now you had seen him, you could not not think about him. His light hair and light grey eyes flew around in front of your eyes and your Herbiology was left for what it was.

You had been crushing on the Slytherin for a while now and you weren't even sure how you got to it. It was one day, when he bumped into you in the Potions cabinet and he apologised, that you had felt the butterflies as he touched your shoulder when saying sorry. And ever since then you had found yourself drawn to him whenever he was in the room. Funny how such a little touch could turn your life upside down.

Madam Pince had shooed the Gryffindors away and the library was filled with such a silence that you could hear your own thoughts loud and clear, as if they were being spoken out loud. Draco stood at the bookcase closest to you and it took all your strength not to look at him.

You stared at the words of the book that lied in front of you. They didn't make any sense. You dropped your head sighing in your hands and stared with empty eyes ahead of you.

‘What are you working on?’ Draco asked and you scared up.

The blood rushed to your cheeks and you scrambled up. You looked Draco and then back at your book before you answered. ‘Well, right now nothing.’

‘So I can sit next to you?’

‘Uhm, sure.’

Draco dropped his bag on the table and took the chair next to you. He didn't pull out any books but instead turned to you. His knees were pressed lightly against your thigh and you balled your fist on the side of your body, out of his sight.

‘Shouldn't you be doing something?’ you asked, afraid he would leave if you didn't say anything.

Draco laughed loud, receiving an angry glare from madam Pince. He shook his head with a smile on his face and got closer to you, resting his arm on the back of your chair.

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he said with a low voice.

‘Why?’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Draco laughed softly again. ‘Because I want to get to know you. I fancy you, you see?’

You stared at him for a second and your jaw dropped. He liked you? You tilted your head to the side and watched Draco. He still had a smile on his face but you could see through his confident exterior that he was anxiously waiting for a reply from you.

‘I fancy you too, Draco,’ you said and gave him a smile.

He seemed encouraged by your confession and moved even more closer.

‘Enough to ditch Herbiology and spend time with me?’

‘That you even have to ask,’ you grinned.

- -- -

You didn't look very good, Draco noticed. Something had changed over the summer and when he took your hand and felt that your fingers took less space in his hands, he realised you had gotten thinner. Not just a little, healthy thinner, but more of a haven't-eaten-in-a-while-thin.

Your head rested on his shoulder and he could hear your steady breaths. He had missed that sound, just as he had missed everything about you. Even though you and him had only been dating for a month before the summer came, he had grown to you so much over that time. And in the summer he had not seen you at all and even barely spoken to you. Your letters were few and short.

Draco had been filled with doubts over the summer; did you still like him? Or had you realised that maybe you didn't like Draco after all?

But now you were resting against him, your hand tightly in his he realised that his doubts had been unjust. You liked him just as much as he liked you. Or maybe even love.

‘Darling?’ Draco asked and you lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him. ‘How was your summer. Your letters weren't exactly detailed.’

You sighed softly and averted your eyes from Draco's face. Your fingers played with the bottom of your shirt and you didn't look up as you talked. ‘It was fine,’ you muttered.

‘Okay,’ Draco slowly said, taking your hand in his. ‘You know you can tell me anything, right?’

You looked up to Draco and he saw tears pooling in your eyes. Without hesitating he pulled you close to his chest and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You sobbed softly into the crook of Draco's neck as he rubbed your back.

‘It's alright, darling. I'm here,’ he whispered into your ear and you tightened your grip on him.

For minutes the compartment was only filled with the sound of your sobs and Draco's reassuring words. He wanted to know why you were crying, but he knew he should give you your time. He was there for you, now and for as long as you'd have him.

‘You want to tell me?’ he whispered as you pulled away.

Your face was close to his and he watched the tears in your eyelashes. Your eyes were red and your nose was running, but Draco thought you were more beautiful than ever as you trusted him to be vulnerable in front of him. He cupped your cheek with his hand and kissed you on your nose, making you giggle lightly.

With the back of your hand you wiped away the tears of your face before you spoke with a quivering voice. ‘It's my parents. They- When they get mad at me- The whole summer-’

You stopped talking and sighed defeated, looking at your hands. Draco took your hand gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Take your time.’

You took a deep breath and looked back at Draco. ‘They don't let me eat. They say they can't physically hurt me, but they don't give me dinner or breakfast. They say they're disappointed in me and that I bring a shame to the family...’

Your voice got softer again and you looked insecure at Draco. He felt the hate for your parents razing through his veins. He wanted to do something to them. But now his priority was you, as you were crumbling apart in Draco's hands. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you leaned into his chest.

‘It's alright, love. I am glad you told me. I will take care of you, darling. We'll find a solution. We will stay at Hogwarts for Christmas and I am sure my parents won't mind if you come to stay with us next summer. Don't worry, I’ll help you through this,’ Draco said, his own voice trembling with emotion. ‘You’re safe with me.’

‘Thank you Draco,’ you said in his chest and moved your head to place a kiss on his jaw.

‘I would do anything for you, darling.’

- - - - - - -

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[anonymous0writer]

Saving You III JJ Maybank

Part Two: Toeing the Line

Author: @anonymous0writer

Summary: You and JJ had been best friends for as long as you lived. But the feelings that would change your status haven’t been said. Will the words ever be said?

Warnings: Parental abuse/abuse, (more in detail..) swearing.. Going into detail about emotions? I don’t know...

A/N: This one is really long bc I went back to edit and added a shit tom of detail and angst ig. Also, I tried to edit it the best I could.. Anyway, I really like this series, and I’m gonna be so sad when its done even though I’m on the second part, lol.

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There was something in the air. Maybe it was the tang of rain just before it hit. Or maybe it was the way the clouds looked a little darker than the hour before. Whatever it was, it was there. Twisting and churning feeling that sat in his gut, making his face twist in sickness. It was like stepping off a plane, the indescribable feeling of you not begin right. Like you were meant to be in the air, pressure against your ears and flying in the sky, not dropped to the ground, heavy and lost. But no matter it was, the foreboding was there. Settled into his stomach like a lithe creature, ready to strike when the moment came.

He didn’t know what it was, but it was like the calm before the storm. The crispness of the air, the sharp tang of rain about to fall, and then it hits. The consuming, hoard of dark clouds, rolling over the sky in a furious march. Clouds that left the bone quivering, earth shaking booms of thunder and the wicked crack of lightening that light up the world for a second, before plummeting it into darkness.

The storm that brought destruction and havoc and sorrow. But so elegant in the way it destroyed you didn’t even think about it until you were left with the pieces of its aftermath. 

It was like a hurricane. Blowing and whipping furiously, making it way to you, eating up the miles in its path, determined to destroy everything. It was hurtling toward you, and you were powerless to stop it, only able to hunker down and let it happen. 

Whatever it was it was going to bad, and it made him sick. It was a knot in his stomach that tightened and made him sicker. He leaned forward, eyebrows pressed together in worry. What the hell was going to happen today?

---------

Y/N batted her friends grabby hands away, laughing at the same time. JJ smirked, able to get a loose fry with his agile fingers. Y/N squawked, her lips tugging into a frown as she watched the boy munch on the food happily. 

“JJ!” She called, her agitation masking the way she melted and loved that he felt so comfortable to do the simple act of stealing a fry. 

The boy smirked. “I’ll let you beat me to a wave today,” The boy winked, trying to make it up to her. 

Y/N hide her smile as she moved her head so her long hair slid off her shoulder, dropping in front of her face. However JJ feared that he had actually made the girl mad at him, and leaned forward, fingers subconsciously brushing her hair back, tucking the loose stands back in place.

“Are you mad at me?” 

Y/N gasped softly at the feeling of the edges of JJ’s fingertips ghosting her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear. Her throat bobbed, and her eyes flickered to meet JJ’s. But Y/N was good at recovering fast, and she giggled, pushing the boy away again, 

“JJ, stop!” Her lips split, revealing a full smile that lit up her face and made the edges of her eyes wrinkle. JJ loved that smile with everything he got, and always hated the way it disappeared. So, trying to get the smile back, his fingers reached out to attack her sides in tickles.

Soon enough, Y/N was laughing madly, head thrown back and hair in her face, as she tried to take a much needed breath, her hands pushing away the relentless ones of her best friend. JJ grinned, blue eyes shining as he continued his playful assault, coaxing gasps and squeals from his best friend. 

“Alright, alright! J!” Y/N gasped, and the blonde let up, allowing her to catch a breath. 

Across from the best friends sat the rest of their group. Pope was staring with eyebrows raised, and John B. was smirking at the pair, while Kie was cleaning up their mess so her father wouldn’t get mad.

“You two are on crack, I swear.” John B. muttered, popping a fry in his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly. 

“Shut up, John B!” Y/N yelled, a mischievous smirk plastered on her sunlit face. She reached into her basket of quickly diminishing fries and hurtled one at the tall boy across from her. 

A thud sounded as John B.’s chair dropped and he retaliated with a fry in Y/N’s face. The revenge blew into a full on fry fight, and the friends were laughing and ducking from the onslaught of fries headed their way.

As JJ chucked a ketchup soaked fry toward Pope, he felt so happy. His eyes wandered to see Kie and Y/N huddled together, battling away the fries raining down on them with loud rounds of laughter. He took a split second break to admire his best friend since he was eight. She was beautiful, with her laugh that made everyone join in, with her kind words and big heart and her smile that had every person that met her falling in love. 

But the fun was ended by Mr. Carrera and his sharp yell through the empty restaurant. 

“Hey, knock it off.” He frowned, eyes landing on his daughter. “I thought I told you not to waste my food.” He grumbled, soon focusing on cleaning a spot on the counter. 

“Sorry dad.” Kie winced, and smacked Pope’s hand with a glare as he tried to pick up a fry. “It’s getting late,” She comments, looking out the window of the Wreck, watching the sun sink lower into the horizon. “If we want to catch some waves,”

“We gotta go now.” Y/N finishes for her, hands scrambling to clean up the table now littered with grease soaked fries and splotches of ketchup and mustard. “John B, come on!” She chided as the boy waited a second too long to join in the collective work to clean up. 

He jumped in, but JJ held back, struck frozen by the sinking feeling in his gut. His stomach knotted, giving him the feeling he woke up with this morning. 

The calm before the storm.

“JJ?” Y/N prodded, eyes finding his as her eyebrows pushed together. She stood, brushing off her cutoffs with harsh wipes of her hands. Her eyes fixated on her friend, confusing pulling her eyebrows together.  “Hey, J?” Her voice cooed, calling out to the blonde.

“Shit,” The surfer muttered, taking his hat off to run a hand through his messy hair. His blue eye seemed distant, but they were wide, like a child who forgot to do a chore and their parent was soon to catch them. “Fuck, you guys I gotta dip.”

“What? Where are you-” Kie started, but the boy was already off, spiriting through the Wreck’s door. His figure jumped on his bike, and soon he sped away, gravel spewing and the blue shirt he wore fading into a small speck until it was gone from sight.

Kie sputtered, eyebrows pulling down as her lips curved into a soft frown. “What the hell was that?”

Y/N takes a second before pulling her eyes away from where JJ ran off. Worry churned in her gut, as she finally lets her eyes tear away from the scene.

“I don’t know.” She breaths, trying to quell the bad feeling. 

But she knows it hopeless. She’s always had a sixth sense when JJ was in trouble. Yet this time, that horrid feeling is coupled with another. It feels like her fear of something bad happening, but you have no control of it. 

To Y/N, it felt exactly like the calm before a storm.

--------

“You worthless piece of shit!” The screams curl into JJ’s face, stale beer and bad breath hitting him in a wave. The boy presses himself back farther, the untamed wood digging into his back. His face scrunches up, and he tries desperately to block out the words.

The words crest and break in the blonde’s ear, settling deep into his brain, and joining the other nasty words thrown at him by his father. The words shook him to the core, bone quaking, eyes swimming and blood sizzling. His anger built higher and higher, growing rapidly, morphing into a beast. Anger at his father, for the shitty life handed to him and the only thing in the refrigerator was a week old beer his father downed every day. Anger at the world, for turning its back on him, shutting him out and letting him suffer. Suffer at the hands of his father. Who couldn’t stay sober for his life. And couldn’t ease the anger towards his son either. It all came to a 360, didn’t it?

But another feeling roared in him, unable to be put out like a simple fire. This feeling was almost as powerful at his anger, close, but not quite. This feeling wasn’t powerful in the ascend. Only in the descend. The emotion, the feeling that ran through his veins, running with the anger and doubling its strength was helpless pain. It was like being too close to the edge, where you looked down, breath catching, eyes watering at the wind, heart speeding. Where even though you tried to calm yourself with ragged breaths, your heart sped up into a gallop, beating wildly in your chest cavity, palms slick with sweat and ragged breaths pulling your chest in and out. It was when your hands shook, and your eyes burned and you were so angry that it took over every sense. When the anger was the only thing. Anger at nothing and everything. Anger burning in your chest as your hands lost control, and your mind reeled. Anger that clouded your brain like a disease, so fast and quick you didn’t even realize. The feeling that brought you to your knees when it rose to its height. Where your thoughts streamed so fast you could process everything and nothing. Where your bones stopped, and you sagged, the fight escaping you like a soul to a body. The fight, the survival instinct, the anger, it all faded, leaving you to break down, mind still reeling, hands still shaking, breaths still ragged. It was that feeling. The feeling of everything in you giving up to a break down. Where your thoughts broke on you, turning against you and watching you fall apart.

“Shut up!” JJ screams back, face contorting as he tries to handle the emotions raging in his chest. They were too much. He didn’t handle emotions well, not when they were like this. Not when they exploded and raged and screamed like this. He couldn’t handle the wailing symphony of his fathers words and the feelings of pain and anger rose to a crescendo in his ears. “Just shut up!”

He was yelling. Trying to block out the orchestra in his ears. To stop the emotions beating in his chest like they were alive. To stop his fathers lying, withering words from taking root in his mind and growing like a weed. He was trying to shut everything out. Because he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle the way his fathers hands never failed to hurt, and his father words never failed to sting, and the way eyes never failed to pity as they landed on the bruises that seemed like permanent markings on his skin.

Luke’s fist slams into his son’s cheek, filed by rage and the abundance of alcohol. The hit sent JJ sideways, knees slamming into the floor with a hard thud as pain split across his face like a rapid spiderweb. It worked it’s way into every fiber of his face, searing and never ending. His jaw clenches, sending another wave of pain through his body, making his brain go fuzzy as his vision danced. His mind was slipping, trying to process the amount of pain, but failing to do so.

But magically, it cleared. The fog dispersed and gave way to sharp images, sending the boy back into reality, where his fathers fists were too real and the pain was too clear. But the haze only cleared to let another emotion peek through as he heard it. Heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires and brakes squeaking as the engine rumbled, dying. Pain slithered away into the corners of his brain to give way to a more powerful emotion. Fear. Fear because he knew exactly whose there’s that care belonged to. Knew exactly the way the gravel surrendered under the weight of a certain tire. Of a certain car. The car belonged to her. Y/N.

She was here, knowing something was terribly wrong the second the boy stopped reveling in the childish food fight. Because she always did. Her gut always twisted a certain way, giving her a bad feeling that never faded until she investigated. She always seemed to know when he was in trouble and came running, eager to ease the feeling and help. She’d gotten that sense the moment the boys eyes landed on her all those years back. It was a gift. A gift, a connection between two people who’s love ran deeper than blood and deeper than words itself. But in most cases, the gift was a curse. Because every time her gut twisted that way, or she’d frown because she felt undeniably wrong, JJ was hurt, beaten bloody by his own father. Most of the time she showed up when Luke was passed out drunk on the couch, chest rising in falling in a drunken slumber, JJ visiting a world of pain on the floor or gripping his head like it was going to burst as he sat, door locked in his bedroom. But now she’d shown up when Luke was towering over the blonde, words bellowing out of his heaving chest. 

“No,” JJ whispers, fear spiking in his chest, hitting a certain place in his heart. Everything- the anger, the helplessness, the crescendo of wails and words screamed by his father- died. Faded into the background to bow to the new comer. Fear. Not fear of his father. Not fear that his father would go too far and actually kill him. Not it wasn’t fear for him. This fear was for his best friend. His bright eyed, smiling friend who he’d fallen in love with,

His fear was for Y/N. Fear that she’d get hurt. And if she got hurt- JJ wouldn’t even allow the thought to fully develop or form into a real sentence. He couldn’t- wouldn’t go there. The thought brought too many already present emotions and more to the front.

As the surfer tried to scramble away, the pads of his fingers digging into the fought grain of the wooden floor, he was grabbed. Luke flipped JJ over, hands rough, and words hitting JJ’s ear, making the boy flinch. Fists started raining down on his face, head smashed into the worn floorboards of the house. The blondes eyes fluttered shut, his brain threatening to stop. JJ was in too much pain, his mind clouded and vision swimming to hear the porch door and the main door smack open. It was too late. Too late to get up, shove his dad off and beg Y/N to leave, let his father run his course. But pain was a powerful thing, leaving JJ prone on the floor as the door to the house of pain opened to reveal Y/N.

“Stop!” Her screams ran through the air, snapping her best friend out of his haze of misery. “What are you doing?” Her voice wavered, breaking as it gave away to fear and distress. Worry seeped into the words, making her cries desperate.

The boy on the floor groans, heat splitting in pain as he moves, picking himself up. He stumbles, knees threatening to give way, and face bruised and bloody. His lips are cracked and parted, blood leaking from an open wound, thick and dark. His cheek is swollen, red and puffy with purple blooming across it like a wildfire. It was like the purple of the fading sunset, elegant and soft for such an alarming, pain filled color. A cut mars his right eyebrow, breaking up the symmetry of his abuse. His eyes are sad, the azure color dulled and faded, weak without the light of his usual smile or carefree laugh. His lips don’t tug into a flirty smirk, but frown in a soft, giving up manner.

When he opens his mouth, he finds his might too dry and throat too clogged to speak. So he tried again, voice hoarse and broken. “Get out of here!” He begs, fear and desperation thick in his rough voice. His pleas reach his friend, sounding harsher than he intended. Subconsciously, the JJ places himself in front of Y/N and his seething father. His hands are still shaking, weak and bruised as he holds them up, trying to keep his fathers hands of misery away from the perfect light of his best friend.

“What is she doing her?” Luke barks, his voice rapsy with the gruffness of a man with only anger and cheap alcohol in his blood can obtain.

“I’m gonna get her out dad. Alright? We’re gonna leave.” JJ’s hands shake more as he plays mediator, eyes beseeching his unforgiving father. He swallows the lump in his throat, trying to quell the soreness. He’s begging. Begging with his father to let them go- or at least Y/N. And begging with his best friend to leave, leave so his father can keep his reign of terror focused on the blonde and not her.

“You’re not leaving!” Luke thundered, brows glaring down as he surveyed the two kids. His stained tank top lifted at uneven intervals as his chest heaved, ragged breaths pulling in and out of his frowning mouth. His lips were screwed into a disgust filled sneer.

But Y/N wasn’t having it. JJ’s cerulean eyes flickered to meet hers, seeing them spark with fire and sadness. A combination her best friend knew too well. So, with a rare surge of bravery, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins at the best of her thundering heart, she stepped forward. Her feet groaned against the wood as she went forward, short, quiet gasps falling from her dry lips. She was now exposed to Luke’s fury. JJ was no longer in front of her, protecting her. And it was her own doing.

“Stop it! He doesn’t deserve it.” Y/N’s voice was ragged, seeping with desperation as she begged with the inconsolable man in front of her.

JJ’s heart twisted at the words, squeezing painfully as it hammered against his bruised ribs. Breath caught, he stopped, but he was too late. He wasn’t in front of her in time, wasn’t meditating like he was begging for life. He was too late. Luke’s hand was already flying, and the loud sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. The sound was enough to make JJ flinch, a smack and cry sounding. The cry ripping from a familiar throat, provoked by the shock and pain. Y/N fell, the power of the slap sending her to her knees. She hit the floor, ground thundering as her hands flew to her cheek. Her fingers were gentle, exploring the source of pain now stinging across her face.

JJ was positive that he could hear his heart crack. Positive that the sound of it was breaking wasn’t only in his ears, adding to the decrescendo of wails and words in his ears. The boy was sure, if you looked hard enough, you could see the soft, yet strong webbing of his heart break and fall into tiny, sharp pieces, lost in his rib cage.

“Dad!” He screamed, shock forcing the words from his constricted throat. His ocean eyes brimming with tears and clouding his vision as he watched you gasp, red blooming fast on your cheek from where his father hit you. His father. Leaving his own abuse mark. On you. On the one person JJ cared about more than himself. On the one person he wouldn’t think twice about giving his life for. On the one person he promised nothing would happen to. On the one person he loved with every bit of his fucked up self.

He broke his gaze on your to look at his father. Despite his mind still trying to process everything- everything from the downhill spiral of his roaring emotions and the increased climb of his pain- he thought fast. Quicksilver. Turning to his father, he put his hands- now less shaky- up in surrender. His cerulean eyes were back to begging. “Alright.. We’re leaving. I’m getting her out of here, alright?” 

Luke’s lips curled into a sneer, and he spit on the floor, eyes hard and filled with disgust and to JJ’s relief, disinterest. His father turned away, searching for a beer like a lost man at sea for land. Once he was sure, his fathers mind was only on the cheap alcohol littering the house, JJ spun, eyes zoning in on his best friend. His blue eyes locked on your figure.

Breathing her name in a ragged whisper, JJ dropped to his knees next to her, ignoring the pain exploding like rouge fireworks in every part of his body. The wince didn’t hide the pain, but the boy was used to hiding. He ignored his pain, lips pressed together in a thin, determined line. Because the bruised ribs and face that were throbbing and screaming were nothing compared to the way his heart broke and seized at seeing you fall victim to his fathers vicious hands. 

“Hey,” He whispered, voice barely audible as he called out to his friend. His fingers reached, touching the soft underside of her jaw as his hands cupped Y/N’s cheeks like they were glass. 

Y/N’s heart ached at the way JJ cupped her face. Like she was so fragile and could break with the slightest pressure. Like he didn’t want to hurt her, and only craved to protect her. Alike he was sorry, and he couldn’t convey it in words, so he tried in touch. Like he was heartbroken over seeing her like this.

JJ’s eyes swam with unshed tears as they pooled. His attentive eyes saw the familiar welt form on your cheek bloom like a flower in spring. The welt was big and angry, making the boy clench his jaw tightly. His nostrils flared as his ears registered the gasp falling from your parted lips and the hurt look in your eyes. 

And he realized. The bad feeling this morning. The creature settling in his gut, waiting to strike. The feeling that reminded JJ of the times a hurricane would be broadcasted on the TV screen, the brightness of the pictures blaring and the detached voices of newscasters loud. This, this right here- his best friend sitting on the floor, bruising cheek cradled in his rough hands, both of them victims of his father- was the foreboding in his gut in the early morning. 

Before- that was the calm before the storm. 

And this- this was worse. This was the crashing of the waves after cresting to a scary height. This was the raging wind, coupled with the stabbing rain. This was the crescendo of the deafening music where you covered your ears with your hands, eyes squeezed shut. This was the sharp crack of lighting exploding across the night cry. This was the moment where all the fight left your body, leaving you empty and hollow, a husk of your emotions. This was the silent scream of mind tearing pain. This was the rising panic in your chest. This was the feeling of seeing Y/N and her abuse. This was the feeling of helplessness as you looked up, neck craning back as your eyes tracked the rising wave, fear heavy in your chest as your realized your fate and there was nothing you could do about it.

This was the storm.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Slytherin Sherlock x Hufflepuff Reader

-You’re a first year when Sherlock is a third year

-And you’re naturally curious, and well, Muggleborn, so not all of this stuff was explained to you

-You see the third years heading off to Hogsmeade

-You follow them (bc you were never told not to) and for some reason you’re not caught

-Well, not until an hour in when some Gryffindor fifth year sees you in Honeydukes

-’Oi, firstie, the hell you doing?’

-The jar of Jelly Slugs you’d been holding crashes to the ground out of your limp grasp

-And you’re frozen because you hadn’t thought of what you would do if you were caught

-’Oh, bugger off, Watson’ you hear behind you

-You whirl around, cheeks flaming, ready to thank your savior

-Sherlock peers down his nose at you and sniffs

-He waves his wand at the mess on the floor and it’s fixed

-’Thank you’

-He just flaps his hand at you ‘Run back to the school, little firstie. nobody here wants firsties crashing our party. especially not muggleborn firsties’

-So that was your first encounter with Sherlock Holmes

-You avoid him for the rest of your first year and most of your second until you happen upon him in the library

-His eyes are bloodshot, curls askew, and you’re pretty sure, judging by his skinny wrists, that he hasn’t been eating right

-(not that you’ve seen him at mealtimes, which you haven’t, because you haven’t been looking for him specifically to avoid him, of course)

-And, well, you may still be smarting a little over the muggleborn comment

-(although it seems to be a common prejudice held by these backwards, medieval wizards)

-But you’re not an asshole he is, though and you ask the house-elf you’d met last year, Poppy, bring some food

-He never sees you, just the elf, but for the rest of the year you can’t shake the feeling that his eyes are on yours during mealtimes and that he knows

-His fifth year is worse

-Not even the elves leaving food by his shoulder as he studies late into the night will encourage him to eat

-And you’re a bit annoyed, really, that his big brother hasn’t been paying enough attention to know that his little brother is starving himself to death

-And that the headmaster hasn’t noticed the potential endangerment of his students

-So a bit before Christmastime you approach the studying Holmes, slam your books down on the table (it rattles the cups full of cold tea he’d pushed aside earlier)

-’If I’m gonna go through the trouble to get the elves to feed you, then eat the damn food, asshole’

-He just blinks at you, one curl in front of his left eye, and for a moment you realize why the girls in your dorm coo over the asshole; he’s cute

-But you would never admit it, and you still don’t understand why they think him being an asshole is attractive

-’I thought you would just give up’

-’Um, hello, Hufflepuff here? We’re the determined workers of the school. now eat your damn food’

-And maybe he’s too tired to think straight or a little confused as to why you’re not either scared of him or cooing over him, so he takes a sip of cold tea and grimaces

-You snort and hand him a roast beef sandwich

-’Are the O.W.L.s hard?’

-It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him not be an asshole to anyone

-And so you come back the next day, when he’s just as tired and hungry, and that’s when you’ll talk to him

-He gets through the O.W.L.s and Mycroft will insist he only made it because of you because he really was paying attention, but not just to Sherlock

-So just like that you’re a part of their friend group

-The asshole Sherlock (Slytherin), the brash John Watson (Gryffindor), the cold Mycroft (Slytherin), the mysterious Rosamund (Ravenclaw), and sweet Molly (Hufflepuff)

-The oddest assortment of people you’ve ever seen that have called themselves friends

-But friends nonetheless

-At least, until Mycroft was gone first, and then John, then Mary and Molly, and finally you and Sherlock are the only ones left

-Being part of a tight-knit group of friends

-(the group everyone wanted to be included in)

-(the elite)

-isn’t as fun when there’s only two left

-Your O.W.L.s are easy

-Sherlock helped you when he wasn’t studying for his N.E.W.T.s, obviously

-And when the two of you weren’t pranking the incompetent DADA teacher and the crude sixth-year Gryffindor boys

-And you had to slap him on the hands a few times to stop him from reaching for more books after the designated ‘stop studying’ time

-but all too soon the year is over

-And Sherlock is graduating

-And you’re all alone now

-You’ve got your dormmates, obviously

-Whom you’re friends with, but in a vague way, since you’d left them in third year and barely spoken with them except for polite passings-by after that year

-and you feel a bit lost now, as the last member of the group, with two more years left without any of them there

-so you almost cry tears of joy when, upon entering your first DADA lesson of sixth year, you see the incompetent teacher replaced with a dark, curly-haired boy lounging on his desk

-And you finally see why everyone had crushes on him

-so you can barely speak when Sherlock smirks in your direction

-’You can call me Professor Holmes’ holy SHIT that’s hot

-DADA is suddenly your best subject, you decide

-And after class you spend a long time packing up your books as every single girl in the class flocks up to his desk and coos over how great of a professor he’ll be, how glad they are that the old one was sacked, etc

-By the end of it your teeth are grinding

-Sherlock coldly dismisses them all and you decide to leave but he calls you back

-First thing you say is ‘You know I’m never going to take you seriously, right?’

-Sherlock smiles faintly ‘This is a two-year position, that’s it. I needed experience and the headmaster of Hogwarts is a good reference. after this i plan on exploring the world. think of me as your tutor’

-’Won’t be much difference, then. do i have to call you professor?’

-He smirks ‘it wouldn’t do to play favorites. might create you some enemies, Y/N’

-’there’s no way’ you declare. ‘it would be like that weird thing you had with Adler. Remember?’

-you’d hated Irene Adler, but you weren’t jealous. she was just rude and dismissive of everyone and thankfully it had only been a few times for them and sherlock hadn’t gotten attached

-thank god

-’she was into the roleplay—’

-he flushes bright red, which is unusual and you’re unreasonably proud that you made pRoFeSsOr HoLmEs flushed ‘yeah, yeah, i remember. how could i forget?’

-Your mouth twists

-’the best night of your life’ she’d promised, and sherlock claims she’d delivered

-and you know he’ll be traveling with his fancy pureblood inheritance paying for it all, and unfortunately you’re a broke muggleborn without even a plan for what you’ll be doing after hogwarts

-but you smile anyways for him and say that sounds fun

-’after all,’ sherlock says, ‘i could hardly leave the last member of our little gang alone for two years in a magical castle, could i?’

-and that makes you feel a little better and you tease ‘aw, sherlock, who knew you could be so sweet’

-and he just tells you to shut up

-during sixth and seventh year all the girls are struggling so much with defence against the dark arts that they need special tutoring

-you’re proud to say that you don’t stoop that low to get sherlock’s attention

-mycroft will say later that you hadn’t even needed to try for his attention, you’d already always had it, and sherlock will tell him to shut up, and your romantic little heart will swell a little bit

-you don’t try to get his attention and yet somehow you always have it

-you’re convinced he only calls on you in class to pick on you but still, that means his eyes are on you

-and you eat lunch in his classroom as long as he’s not ‘tutoring’ another girl (you know he would never in his life do what the girls want him to do to them, but still, it’s weird to watch them try)

-and the library is where you two meet and talk during the evenings

-so it’s basically your fifth year all over again, except he’s teaching you in a classroom instead of the library (and he’s still teaching you there too)

-when Sprout interviews you about what you’d like to do when you grow up, you answer that you’d maybe like to work with magical creatures or potions

-you wish you were like rosamund, molly, and john, who are all Aurors now, or mycroft, who works in the Ministry, so you’d be able to see them more often

-but you’re not

-and then you’re walking past the DADA classroom the next day when something grabs your elbow and covers your shrieking mouth

-you’re pretty used to Peeves but this is beyond the pale

-when he lets go you whirl around and channel your inner Muggle and lash out at your attacker with your fists, even though they won’t do much good against a poltergeist

-but your knuckles meet a solid target

-’Bloody hell!’

-’Sherlock, what the actual bloody hell?’

-He glares at you, pinching his bleeding nose shut ‘you told sprout you were going to work with animals?’

-you shrug ‘i like animals’

-’but what about traveling?’

-you blink and tilt your head ‘what?’

-’what’s confusing about that, you bloody bint?’

-’i know you’re traveling’ you say, ‘but that’s with your fancy pureblood inheritance. im a muggleborn and i wasn’t even invited on your travels—’

-’it was implied, you... you...’ sherlock gestures at you, apparently at a loss for words.

-oh

-Oh

-OH

-Your eyes widen ‘With you?’

-’obviously’ he snorts

-And you throw your arms around him, but you’ve gotten taller or something, because when you used to hug him you used to bury your face in his chest, but somehow your forehead bangs against his nose and his lips are pressed against your eye and burning into your skin

-sherlock carefully takes your hands off of him and your face burns because you hadn’t wanted to be just like the other girls even if you secretly wanted to do what they were doing but this rejection hurts

-’i’m still your professor’ sherlock shrugs ‘it’s highly improper’

-you want to ask is that your only problem with it? because really, he’s only two years older than you and you know you’re not the best looking person ever but you’re not bad

-but the words get caught up in your throat and you just run away from him and skip the last of your DADA classes because after N.E.W.T.s seventh-years really don’t do much

-you graduate and all your friends are there but you’re in the student section and sherlock should be in the professor section but he’s??? not???

-and the moment graduation is over you turn around and sherlock’s there, hands in his pockets and curls in his eyes as he looks at you shyly

-’i resigned yesterday. not your professor anymore’

-and you just sorta look at him, a little crestfallen, because you know he can be a bit of an ass, but you’d expected at least a congratulations, because even Mycroft had managed that much

-’okay?’

-and then he rolls his eyes and sweeps you up into his arms and then he’s kissing you??

-and your brain has shorted out??

-’congratulations’ he finally whispers, and you can’t manage any words in response

~~~~~~~

so i know i said requests are closed, but i felt kinda bad that it took so long for this to come out (i lowkey forgot lmao)

also, i can’t find the horizontal line button anymore??? can someone help me plz??? im so lost???

anyway!!! my spn fic is almost done (its a long one, boyzzzz) so plz hang in there. i’ll post it on ao3 but let everyone know on here when each update will be. i hope y’all like it!

~~~~~~~

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey

[egoludes]

twenty four, pt. i.

note: so, this has been on my mind for a while now bc i am obsessed with anything reincarnated lovers. part ii’s already in the works since this was originally going to be a long oneshot; but i got inspired to post what’s polished because i’m excited to share and i hit a natural stopping point. shoutout to the loves @crown2heavy​, @harrytalkingatnormalspeed​, @mndes​, @mendes8123​, and @-buffysummers for all the support and excitement! please, please share your feedback - this one means a lot to me and i’d love to hear all your thoughts! count: 3.3k warnings: light smut (aka masturbation)

The sun beams overhead, summer in full swing, and they’ve made a place for themselves beneath the cover of towering trees. The meadow is far enough from town that they have the entire space to themselves, but that doesn’t keep it from feeling full. Every corner’s ripe with them ; their sweet nothings echoed through the leaves, soft laughter floating towards the sky. And when he lays his head in her lap, he lets himself fall freely into the thick of it.

Lavender and sunshine — he can’t get enough.

Her fingers trace a path through his hair, and when he presses into the touch, she lets them wander ; cheeks, mouth, throat. Being close to her is far warmer than the sun’s rays beating over them, and his shoulder shake in a content sigh. “I wish I could stay here forever."

She laughs — a chime that makes his eyes flutter open to catch it in her face. She always has that reaction when he gets suddenly sentimental. A part of him does it on purpose now, just to hear that sound. “That’s what you said at the lake, my love,” she taps the end of his nose for good measure. "Think you might have to make up your mind."

He smiles at that, eyes half-lidded from the gesture. “No need to — anywhere you are, that’s where I’ll be.” His hand reaches for hers and he tips his head to kiss the skin of her palm. “I want to stay with you forever."

He wakes up to the smell of lavender.

His first instinct is to assume it’s from the hotel — one of those air fresheners they set on a timer to keep the room fresh. But, that would be the sixth hotel, miles and countries apart, to have the same scent, and Shawn knows enough to doubt those odds.

Beside him, a side table’s scattered with his phone, a desk clock blinking red numbers, and a leather-bound notebook with a pen tucked in the spine. His hand fumbles for the latter — a regular companion in these late hours — and when he flips the table lamp on with a squint at the brightness, there’s already a melody in his head.

It starts out clumsy, the way they always do; notes and rhythms that don’t quite fit, despite his best attempt at it. But, when he thinks back to her laughter, to the love she whispers when they tangle in his thoughts, things fall into place, birthing something as warm as his dream’s sun.

Shawn settles into the groove then, tapping beats out against his thigh to keep track of the ideas coming a mile a minute. His fingers are rough against his bare skin in a sharp contrast to her touch. He misses it, despite being certain he’s never felt it outside of his own head, which spurs a yearning that makes the music come faster. More intently. It isn’t long before his guitar, with its comfortable, grounding weight, is in his lap, and his fingers move from flesh to quick chords.

His voice fills the room soon after, testing lyrics he knows he’ll change when he wakes up. For now, though, he lets them go, follows them down whatever path they choose to lead him. And when he closes his eyes on the high notes, voice cracking from lingering sleep, he can almost see her.

The song ends in a soft smile.

////

Hours later, it’s daytime — late morning, to be exact — and Shawn is in rehearsals. It’s the first one to move from small, intimate practice rooms to the actual venue, which fills him with delicious anticipation, even when it’s completely empty. Behind him, he can sense the band setting up, chattering as excitedly as he feels, but anything they’re saying comes in through static.

Because even as much as he’d like to say he’s completely focused on this, Shawn knows it isn’t quite true. How could it be?

He hasn’t stopped thinking about her since the dream.

If you could call them that at this point. That might’ve been a fair description in the beginning, but it feels reductive now ; incomplete, even. Dreams don’t follow you the way these seem to, don’t grip you the way these always do; and though he doesn’t know what he thinks of them just yet, something in his gut dares to call them memories.

But, even he knows that doesn’t make sense. Every one so far had been clearly set in the past — with horse-drawn carriages, and cottages, and those elaborate old fashions from movies he and Aaliyah would watch as kids. There’s no way he could call something like that a memory.

But, the vividness, the emotion is too palpable to ignore. He feels it even now, filling up his chest when he thinks about it, and he has to suck in a breath to keep himself steady. Proximity to his mic makes the sound echo through the stadium, carried by the silence, and he clicks his tongue to drive it home, grinning at the clear sound.

He can’t wait to hear his voice, his fans’ voices rising in here.

The musing leaves room for his first love to beckon, the urge to play just a little louder than lavender in the back corner of his thoughts. And with a final strum at his guitar, he turns towards his band, this time completely present.

“We ready, guys?”

////

By the time Shawn makes it back to his hotel, he’s completely exhausted. It’s the good kind, he thinks — the kind that leaves you satisfied with everything you’ve done for the day. But it’s still too much for his body to handle, especially when it's adjusting to the changes in time zone.

When he ducks into his room, he stays clear-headed enough to get his guitar propped up on one of the love seats — its usual spot for safekeeping. Then, he lets the tired hit, his actions getting increasingly haphazard as he tugs off his jeans, sweatshirt, and plain white tee. His socks stay on per his usual bedtime ritual; but when he crawls into bed, blankets pulled up to his shoulders, he’s asleep so fast, he never manages to get them off.

There’s a comfortable silence between them, calm that’s marked by the occasional pop and crackle from the fireplace.Their parents had expected them back in town hours ago, but a sudden snow storm made travel near impossible. So here they are instead, curled up as much for heat as they are closeness, and talking between lazy kisses.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be here?” She doesn’t ask because she wants to go. Rather, this is the only place she wants to be, and if she had it her way, she would stay there forever, right here intertwined with him.

It’s a sentiment Shawn shares, if the way he can’t keep to himself is any indication. Even his answer to her question finds a place against her, words muffled as he sponges lips against her shoulder. “Hmm.. who knows?” He only means to kiss what he can see, but once he's started, he can’t stop — he’s a glutton, he’ll admit it -- and he nudges her dress down at the top of her arm, nipping at the skin he exposes along the way. “The storm seems quite bad.”

He’s only kissing along her arm; but, when they haven’t been intimate in a few days, it’s enough to leave her winded, dazed. Her eyes flutter shut and she lets her body shift to give him more room to move.

Shawn takes her up on it gladly, a hand moving to her tummy to keep her close as he dips to nibble underneath her ear. The sound it gets from her — an intoxicating purr — earns one right back from him that eventually turns back into him speaking against her skin. “I don’t know if I can complain, though….I’ve wanted you to myself for days now.”

He confesses with hips inching forward, settling him squarely against her backside. The contact makes them both shiver despite the blankets surrounding them, and she’s the first to cross the threshold, fingers feeling for his hand to guide it down, down, down between her legs. Shawn sucks in a breath that’s as anticipant as it is hungry, and he lets his hazel eyes follow to watch his fingers disappear.

When they make contact, he moans, loud against her ear, and she tips her head back to find his chest.

“Suppose I can’t make you wait any longer then, love."

When he wakes up from this dream, the sun is in his eyes. It takes him a minute to come out of his sleep completely, a bare arm moving to shield his face, and a couple more to process the throbbing below his waist.

It’s been a long time since he’s had anything resembling a wet dream, but it makes sense that she’d make it happen. A glance to his left lets him know it’s just past seven-thirty, meaning he’s nearly twenty minutes ahead of his alarm and an hour away from needing to be anywhere important. The thought of it makes him let out an indignant groan— he could always use the extra sleep — but the sound melts into something breathy when he shifts and ends up rocking into the mattress.

He’s worked up, very much so, but he doesn’t move to do anything about it at first. Instead, Shawn rolls onto his back, eyes taking in the ceiling’s moldings with a sleepy, but thoughtful glance. The dreams are getting more intense these days, doing more to his mind and body each night he has them. He wonders how long it’ll go on for, not to mention what’d caused them in the first place; but the more he racks his mind to even guess at an answer, the more nothing he seems to find.

The cycle is absolutely dizzying, especially at this time of day; so, he decides to stop thinking about it - he can worry about it later. Right now, his body is aching and he knows he’ll be useless, starting the day without some relief. His body moves with a sigh as he relaxes against the bed and lets a hand dance down, down, down over his stomach until it settles inside his underwear. His touches don’t have much purpose at first, lazy swipes of his fingertips over his cock; but when those become too much and too little, he thumbs at the tip — a final tease — before wrapping his fingers around himself and starting deliberate strokes.

Once he does that, it doesn’t take long. His hips jerk with each touch that takes him closer to climax and his face gets rosy pink fast, a compliment to the part of his lips and the way his lashes fan over his cheeks.

When he cums, it’s with her name on his tongue.

////

The first show of tour is so close, he can taste it. From where he is backstage, Shawn hears the opening of Alessia’s second-to-last song and the screams that follow make his heart soar. He’s been waiting for this for months, a couple hundred days of excitement and nerves that’ve all led him here.

He’s pacing as his team rushes around him, doing final checks to set pieces, instruments, sound tech. Even he’s being worked on a little bit more, Tiffany’s gaze on his back as she considers, if only briefly, switching him into another jacket. In all the madness, he hasn’t thought about his dreams, or her, since the morning — rare these days — and there’s a part of him that feels bad about that. As if he’s doing her an injustice trying to push her to the back of his mind.

But, that’s the way Shawn is when it comes to this — all in, all consumed from the moment he’s dressed for a show until he’s done and in bed, the crowd’s roar ringing in his ears. It makes it easy to quiet the unease when he hears the last song from Alessia die down and his name get called from behind him.

It’s time.

The minutes that come next are a blur of hands clapping him on the shoulder and well-wishes as he jogs past. His guitar feels heavier than usual when he’s holding it beneath the stage, waiting for his cue; but the weight is everything, sending shivers up his spine the closer it gets. He’s missed this more than he can say; and when he rises, finally, to everyone’s view, the energy is immediate, drawing him to the mic in long strides that ooze confidence.

There aren’t many places that he can definitively say he belongs, but this — this is at the top of the list.

////

He’s five songs in when it happens.

It's the transition into Mutual, the point where he gets the crowd to sing as he gets his guitar back around him. They’re loud, wonderfully so, and the response has Shawn buzzing with cheeks flushed in gratitude. He’d thought so much about what it would feel like to have fans singing these new songs back to him and he’s searching every face when he joins in, loving their reactions.

The front row has some especially dedicated singers, each hoping that the louder they scream, the more likely he is to notice them. And they aren’t exactly wrong — they’re the first ones he sees when he asks them to scream it out and they’re the ones he looks to to gauge the energy in the room.

Right now, it’s all perfect chaos, a mix of tears, and smiles, and mouths in permanent circles as they shout for him. Each person he looks at gives him some variation of it, making him more and more pleased.

And then there’s her.

She gets his attention at first because she’s the exception to the rule; the smile on her face impressed, but calmly so. And where everyone else is waving their hands to draw his eyes, she has them moving to the rhythm, dancing without a purpose as she sings along. The person next to her moves with and against her, clearly a companion, and they turn to sing to each other, not caring about anyone else in the room.

Not even the man on stage who’s come to a standstill because the girl from his dreams is dancing a few feet away.

He's wondered what this moment would be like. Most of his guesses, admittedly, had been like something from a movie: romantic and cliche where she sees him, and he sees her, and they run into each other’s arms at the same time. But, now that it’s here, all Shawn has to offer is a head that’s gone blank and eyes set wide. It doesn’t make sense that a stranger should impact him so much; so, he tries not to let her —- to look anywhere else, or feel something that isn’t the way his heart’s swelled so much, he’s certain it’ll burst. But, he realizes quickly that he’s fucked —  the only things he can see right now are the sway of her hips and the curve of her throat when she tosses her head back to sing.

He doesn’t notice he’s stopped singing until the expressions in the front row go from energetic to confused, hers included. Behind him, his band keeps playing, but he can feel their equally concerned stares burning a hole in his back. The attention is enough to snap him out of it and Shawn recovers, smiling, with a high note that eases everyone in a hurry.

The song ends smoothly after that, as though his pause had never happened; and the second he has a chance to breathe, he’s off stage looking for anyone that can help. Jake ends up being the first person he finds, and there’s worry in the older man's eyes, brought on by Shawn leaving the stage so suddenly. There’s a pang of guilt at that —- he suspects that won’t be the last time tonight that his actions raise a couple questions. But, Shawn’s too frantic to think about it for long; judging by the screams growing in size, he only has time to gasp out a few words — "Girl, near the front, white t-shirt — ask her to wait at the end. Please.” — before he’s running back.

Somehow, Jake’s as confused as he’d been before the explanation, if not more — that description is generic at best — but if Shawn notices, he isn’t worried. He knows he’ll still try to do what he asks.

The rest of the night, he’s consumed by her, his eyes drawn back to her spot in the crowd on every song. He still can’t believe she’s real, let alone singing his songs to him in a stadium of thousands. He wishes he were close enough to hear what she sounded like, screaming his lyrics like that; but if his dreams are to be believed at all, he has a guess that keeps him smiling.

It’s obvious that she doesn’t recognize him, not in the way he does her. But, the adoration in her eyes as a fan is a good start, more intoxicating than any praise Shawn’s ever gotten. He wants to know how long she’s followed him, if he’s making her as proud tonight as he hopes he is. Which only turns into wanting to impress her, and he plays harder, faster than he ever has in his life. Everyone in the stadium loses it, assuming it’s his excitement making his energy run so high. Half-true, he supposes.

Before long, the show starts to draw to a close, and Shawn can hardly believe it. He gets antsy, not wanting this - his time with her and them - to end so quickly. Adrenaline and panic swirl fast then, and he’s out in the crowd before anyone can stop him, dashing along the barriers. He gives everyone attention -- in hugs, in held hands, in kisses blown at random. But when he comes to her, he reaches in more deliberately, hoping she’ll do what most do and reach back to touch him. Nerves seem to get a hold on her, though, her body tensing at his sudden closeness, and that second’s hesitation is all it takes for everyone else to latch onto his arm.

She makes do with whoops and applause instead, making no move forward despite all his hoping. It makes him want to reach out further, for her specifically, and feel her face in his palms like he had before the kisses in his dreams. But, there’s no shutting out the eyes and hands already on him, and he’s pulled out of thoughts of her as quickly as he’d gone in.

For a second, Shawn’s at a loss, a million calls for her attention to choose from and nowhere near enough time to decide. His eyes dart over her face in rapid-fire calculation before, all at once,he’s smiling ---- soft, private, and just for her. It’s different than any other expression he’s made tonight and he can see something flashing in her eyes that lets him know that she realizes it. That, even if she doesn’t see what he does, know what he does, she’s seeing this much.

It’s enough for him, for now at least, and he waits for her to look away before conceding to Jake’s stern tugs back onto the stage. He gives a final bow at the center of it, bent forward for as long as he can to soak in every scream. And when he straightens, he’s stock still, honey eyes narrow and focused until the lights cut out.

Her face is the last one he sees.

taglist: @sinplisticshawn

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

WhatsApp? Part 8. (Steve Rogers x reader)

Description: You’ve never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone’s eye, to be loved. One day, that’s about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you

A/N:  @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory thank you for reblogging! I notice every note and reblog you left me, babez! But I have a seriously hard time responding even to my own gf at the time, bcs I'm in the more depressed mood. Sorry.

Word count: 2 K 

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @songforhema, @mikariell95

Read the rest here: Part One  Part Two  Part three  Part four  Part five  Part Six  Part seven

If you like to have your readings in order :):  H E R E  

The big evening finally came. Every one of you was in the backstage, listening to some stand-up comedian. He truly was hilarious.

It was simple - there was a hall full of people who had bought the tickets in pre-order. All of that money went to a charity. Then they could give more money if they wanted to the lady by the ticket station. After every show, the hall cleared out and people with tickets on the next show sat at the tables, ordered some drinks and waited for it to start. Some shows had twenty minutes, but there were other people, who had five minutes lasting shows as you were.

There were even people from the Marina present, those who were voted to take the check from Tony Stark himself as well. And they looked like they had a hella good time.

"I will sit next to you, would you mind?" - Deena said, already sitting down. You scooped a bit further to make some place for her ass. Then the both of you turned your heads to look at the guy performing. You both laughed. There was some singers, some bands, some other Charity workers - there was basically everyone. You even got a bit too excited when you saw Pepper freaking Potts sitting at the table in the back of the hall next to Happy Hogan.

Through the whole evening, you texted with Steve. You told him every of your itsy bitsy feelings and he was so kind that he has listened to you all the time. Meanwhile, girls have done your make-up and your hair, so you looked like a real lady coming straight from the forties.

May's hair was the hardest do make - she had a long, strong hair and she has a hell lot of them, which made it almost impossible to do. Yet she was now standing behind you on her high heels, looking definitely breathtaking.

Y/N: Never realizes that there will be so many people out here! I'm getting pretty nervous, handsome.

Steve: Do not freak out. It is going to be completely fine. We are here out with Bucky and Sam, pouring down some drinks. We are looking forward to your performance, girls. We truly do.

Y/N: Yeah, looking forward to seeing me killing somebody else?

Steve: Stop it. You will be great. And you will not convince me otherwise. And I will be there to see all of it.

That made you smile. Steve was the mental and emotional support to you every step you made and every breath you took, just like in that The Police song. When you felt insecure about you looking fat, Steve reminded you of how blown away he was just with the way you looked in that costume. When you thought that your make-up and your hair is too much, Steve texted back that you'll be beautiful to him no matter how much you'll put on.

He truly was trying to make every one of your little insecurities go away and he was doing a great job.

"He's somewhere out here tonight?" - Deena asked all of a sudden. She and Val took some really sultry sapphic photos before that and you were sure that they'll be used when you'll recap your whole year on the office Christmas party. They both looked sexy as hell, Deena even went so far she had shortened her skirt and wear her super push-up bra to make her cleavage more visible.

"Not at the moment, but he'll be. Yeah." - You nodded with a shy smile of a nervous girl. It was so strange, knowing that Steve will be there, checking out each of your moves with his bros.

You never showed him your face, but daily life pics became a next step between for the two of you. When you were at work, you took a simple headless selfie in the bathroom mirror, at lunch you photographed your food and you also sent him a photo of you in your PJ, doing a routine movie watching with some popcorn and Coke.

Steve, on the other hand, was a serious piece of cake. You drooled and you didn't even realize that your mouth was wet all over from your own saliva.

To say that Steve was buffed as fuck was a serious understatement. He was ripped like a Greek god. Maybe even they were nothing on his body. His usual daily selfie was a mirror one with him having a white, usually sweaty t-shirt and grey work out sweats. There was usually a bottle of water included. Sometimes he snapped a quick picture of him getting ready. Once you even felt your heart-stopping because of the sight of his collar bones and shoulders in a work out tank top.

At that moment, you were ready to call yourself some good ol' ambulance, because your eyes were drowning at that sight. He was a guy with a naturally sweet nature, so huge and ripped and yet somehow he hadn't found a girlfriend to be with. You couldn't comprehend.

Before meeting him on WhatsApp, you didn't believe in fucking miracles - but here he was and he seemed to be into you. You were hella out of your mind.

Yep. You had gotten off because of those pictures. Once or twice. But that was not your fault at all. You were a woman, someone who had their specific needs. That's just how it was. And Steve seriously was someone who even Val found seriously attractive.

Girls from the office were obsessed all over you two - sometimes, Deena and Suzie sang that you're in love and you answered that you're not. Which obviously became a really dramatic I won't say I'm in love from Hercules. But yeah. Just to be honest, you were all over the fucking place bevause of him. Which happened never ever before. And you haven't even met that man at the time. It was really fucking weird. It felt like his face isn't important to you - you knew him. That's what mattered.

"Do you think you'll be able to see him? Like a sixth sense? It would be as exciting as the end of the Titanic." - Deena sighed dreamily. You frowned at that.

"If you think that the death of basically 60% of the passengers was exciting... You do you I guess." - You answered with a strange expression on your face. 

“Hey. You have that sexy hunk just waiting for every word you want to write to him and not each of us has the opportunity to have that. Some of us just develop a simple crush on Leo DiCaprio. Did you even see that little angelic baby in that movie? Jeez.” - Deena giggled. When she started, she was deadly serious, but in the end, she was laughing. 

But she was totally clear about her crush on Leo. She even had a collection of t-shirts with Leos face on it. But she was all truthful - not everyone finds someone like you found Steve. All it took was a couple of coincidences and there you were.

“But it's nice. Men like that remind you that gentlemen are not a dead thing yet, even now.” - She leaned her shoulder into yours, smiling all happily. - “But I am a bit jealous about all of that, not gonna lie.” 

Your head slowly bobbed and you leaned your forehead into khaki green cap masterly pinned into her hair with some pinnets. She was looking all good. 

And she was right per se. Steve was truly something the others could be only possibly jealous of. And you should be really, really glad for him

And your gratefulness was the thing that made you all nervous about him being present while you do a total asshat in front of anybody else. 

The time flew past you without you barely noticing. There were two other performers in the line in front of your office, and at the next moment, May was gripping your elbow and lead you to the moral hooray before you actually went to the stage. She was probably the best motivational speaker you ever heard, those men and women with courses were nothing on May Parker.

“Okay ladies, I am sincerely proud of you for not being afraid and actually doing all of this. I can't even express how happy I am that I found so many amazing women to do something like that with me. You're all looking flawless, pretty and lovely and I know we will nail the choreography because we worked hard almost every evening for the past few months, we will nail it. And now stand up and let's kick the others their asses!” - May yelled cheerfully. Every one of you clapped, those who had the need to express themselves louder, those cheerfully blew a whistle for May. 

You feel a little confident - nothing too much harsh, nothing too big, but at least you felt positive about yourself when you took your chair and walked onto the stage.

---

“Can you feel the tension in the air? Something's coming.” - Sam nudged Bucky's side with his elbow. Bucky just gave him an ice-cold look and took his another beer from Sam's palm. 

Steve made Sam take the tickets from the lady sitting behind the counter with all highschool girl nervousness - he was able to almost kill Sam when he joked about leaving the tickets on the counter. He was super nervous, super curious, almost not able to keep the feelings contained inside. 

Their small group walked into one of the back tables with a clear view - you tried to take the best places which will be basically on the distance of a stretched arm. It was also close to the bar, which was some great news for Sam. 

“Just jokin', Mr. Grumpy. I'm kinda curious about that girl. You plan on showing us or you will keep a secret?” - Sam sat on the other side of Bucky, taking a strong swing of his beer. 

“Probably a secret. It would not be fair for you to know her face before she knows mine.” - Steve giggled and crawled deeper into his hood. He was worse than Natasha when she was on her missions, just tried to keep his identity in secret, but that was extremely hard because of how enormous he was. 

“Like if birdbrain knew what intimacy or privacy is.” - Bucky said with an ironic tone of voice which made Sam frown as hell again. 

“Well excuse me, but I know today's world more than you two will ever have the chance to. Don't try to make me angry, 'cause you can lose your biggest guide just like dat.” - Sam said with all serious face, but every one of them knew that he's shitting them. 

Y/N: Okay, it's here. Wish me luck, cross your fingers, do whatever the hell you want, but enjoy it.

A text came just short second before all the lights turned down and Steve curiously wiggled on his chair with an expression of a small child. And at that moment, a serious load of ladies in forties female formal clothes came out of the curtains with chairs in their hands. And even tho he couldn't see the shirt you had under your uniform, at that moment, he exactly knew which one of them is you.

[ruwithmeguys]

Random rant that affects no one anywhere and you can skip right past this, promise...

Quentin Lance… um.

Ok, so – I’m loving the sixth season of Arrow. It’s swiftly becoming my favourite for many reasons. It feels like this big reward. Oliver married to the love of his life and clearly much happier because of it? Check. Oliver as a learning father? Check. Oliver unrepentant in showing his clear love for these two people? Check. Oliver managing a triple life? Check. OTA, Delicity scenes, Oliver and Dig scenes and the Olicity of it all? Check x1000!

In a way, it’s similar to season 5: instead of allowing his fall into darkness, it’s showing his climb into legend.

There’s been a clear showcase of Oliver’s progression since minute one. Is he perfect? No, he’ll never be perfect. He’ll be human; messy, complicated and full of love. But he’s also the de facto leader and, whilst Felicity is the heart of the team, he is the core that surrounds the heart. The wisdom he’s dished out this year, the patience, the acceptance of help from his now wife etc, of the depth of his love for her and the way he clearly knows his life is good; it’s wonderful to see after 5 years of darkness, angst and brooding (he stills broods, but it’s softer).

And I could talk Olicity all day. Their progression together and apart has been phenomenal so far.

There’s been a clear showcase of Oliver’s progression since minute one. Is he perfect? No, he’ll never be perfect. He’ll be human; messy, complicated and full of love. But he’s also the de facto leader and, whilst Felicity is the heart of the team, he is the core that surrounds the heart. The wisdom he’s dished out this year, the patience, the acceptance of help from his now wife etc, of the depth of his love for her and the way he clearly knows his life is good; it’s wonderful to see after 5 years of darkness, angst and brooding (he stills broods, but it’s softer). Both together and apart, they’ve grow

But not all characters can progress per season. Some stand still, a stalemate. Some become a standalone; a character who detaches from a group. Some come full circle to where they were at the start, but at opposite ends of a poll. And some regress.

I honestly can’t decide if Quentin has regressed, become stagnant, gone full circle or has progressed… into a crazy person. Has his flip switched and that’s his progressive arc?

(not touching the newbies yet, just... no)

Arrow has never had a perfect season and never will; there’s a disconnect in writing when it comes to reactions, almost as if the writers are afraid that if they write too much romance or have a person react with human emotion to an event or have someone actually judge another for their actions, would invite the fury of the masses. God, why? It’s the sixth season. They know they’re getting a seventh. There should be no fear. But it’s been there since S1 so… Hopefully, in their final season, they’ll go balls to the floor. The seventh might be their final season but I only say that because I was informed that Stephen’s contract is seven seasons long. It would take quite a bit for him to agree to an eighth.

Despite this weakness, I’m still very much enjoying the show. But we all have those arcs and circles and repetitions in a story, that drive us nuts.

You guys know I’ve (all of us) have had difficulty accepting the character of LL before she was killed off. KC’s inability to project genuine empathy through her character for other characters - thought admittedly, she did with Sara after S2 - the blatant way she isn’t very giving to other characters who are focal in that particular moment and concentrates on herself in every scene she’s in (like there was a bubble around her and it became more obvious in her final season), the very poor script choices that led her into being one big contradiction and the horrid speed they had her become BC, made LL a ‘good guy’ I could barely stand the sight of.

It’s not all KC’s fault; CW brought her on board without a screen-test, believing she didn’t need one. Well done. And the writers gave her material she couldn’t work with - that most actresses would have difficulty with because it meant playing a character who couldn’t move forwards - because she didn’t have the range. Because of that, they couldn’t quite decide on her progression so her opinions changed as often as the weather does. 

There are reasons why they brought her back and it wasn’t because they missed her. Not saying anything else.

But the choice to make her a villain was genius. She does an incredible bitch and shines when she’s playing the character at her most sadistic. It hasn’t bothered me; seeing her onscreen again as LL’s evil alternate, though her demonstration as a DC villain is… incredibly camp at times. 

Very 1960s comic flamboyance and could they please understand that leather on KC - with her longs legs and shape -  makes this even worse. Notice how they keep putting her in jeans? Well, there’s a reason. Appearance is a big thing for KC; in S4 she made the make up artists and costume designers stop putting black make up over her eyes because, apparently, it was ugly. And she no longer wanted a wig because, guess what? It was ugly. So basically, she barely had a mask in S4 but they were killing her off so…

It’s clear the ‘looking good whilst performing action scenes that would make even the most beautiful person look like a pig’ still applies in her S6 role and that’s fine. It fits in with the character (Seriously, check out S4 - there’s a strip of material on her face - her hair and eyes are clear).

Gone are the days when she constantly flipped her hair back during fight scenes(?????). Gone are the times when you’d find her awkwardly standing there, bobbing up and down on the spot. Gone are the moments where an enemy would hit her or stun her and she’d make the exact same expression.

(Weirdly, her season 3 fight scenes were more convincing than her season 4 fight scenes. And no, I’m not comparing season 6 because a) BS isn’t LL and b) neither version can hold a candle to Oliver.)

It was all very fitting and I never once thought like some other people in the summer before the first episode aired, that her appearance would have anything at all to do with Oliver and it hasn’t. Like… at all. Crickets. Which is fitting. Thankfully, I haven’t seen any of that fear in months and there really shouldn’t be. There shouldn’t have been since 2014. There’s literally nothing to say about Oliver and either LL or BS and yes, they are different people. Doppelganger means look-a-like who is of a different personality and soul.

So seeing BS - once, I’d hoped LL would become a villain; she had the drive and the will and it would have been a good arc for her - be BS and not a carbon copy of the character who died, a character who wasn’t necessary to the show anymore, even as she tried damn hard to have an impact, was gratifying.

Until it wasn’t.

Until it really, really wasn’t.

It’s one long repeat of 5.10 and I thought she was better in 5.10.

I’m not a fan of the character, because AGAIN – bad script choices. Maybe not the best acting either (and some of her fans agree with that btw). But she isn’t a main villain, so it didn’t matter.

Then Quentin Lance decided, for some unfathomable reason, that she was IN FACT his dead daughter come back to life.

Now, I figured BS would have a plot line of her own or something that would make her a credible threat. A reason for her to be in the sixth season beyond someone else’s plot. Turns out, she doesn’t. She just owes her life to Cayden James and whoever was pulling the strings. She just likes hurting people.

What I didn’t know was that BS WAS a plot line… for Quentin. She’s his season 6 story.

Do you remember what his story was last year? The year before? Let’s have a quick look:

S1: crotchety, deeply unhappy detective who lost a daughter - his favourite - and the grief still affects him 5 years later and whose wife divorced him. I liked this version of him: it held potential. You understood why he was the way he was and accepted it. You knew he’d become an ally eventually and each step into him trusting the vigilante was thrilling. Laurel was his only connection to the happy man he’d once been and how did he repay that connection? With over-protectiveness. With judgement. With years of alcohol abuse, meaning she’d have vivid memories of having to cart him home and get him sober. He may have done his best, what he could, as a man, but as a father? He kind of let her down. So did her mother by leaving and choosing grief over love. But he and LL were similar. Too similar.

S2: he’s sober. He’s willing to work for peace with the Arrow. He’s reaching for better and he’s enjoying it… he’s watching his daughter spiral into the same kind of pit he’s fallen into, only it’s worse because he’s played a hand in it. And he can’t judge her for it. And it’s not just alcohol and oh God, how does he help her? His second daughter returns and for a moment everything is perfect, except LL is the opposite. Sara’s return meant every betrayal was brought back to the surface and he watched one daughter emotionally crucify another.

S3: He’s a captain now and he’s EARNED it. He’s made waves with the Arrow. Both his daughter’s are alive and this is where the cycle starts.

Sara dies. Again.

And LL – in her infinite wisdom – keeps it from him. Now initially, she feared for his heart. But for a long time after he was given a clean bill of health, she still maintained the lie when she had no reason to keep it from him. There was more than once, where she insinuated she enjoyed playing Sara (JHSGAJDVA) because it meant keeping her alive (AHSAJDV) and that she needed the mask. Regardless, it’s a betrayal - because no one has the right to keep the death of a child from the parent - and when he does find out, he goes off the rails and targets Oliver. Makes his life miserable. Has a hand in some of what happens at the end and per Lance logic, never pays for them.

(Do the writers think that their grief means they can do and say things destroy and hurt others? I do wonder. All the time.)

S4: he’s made a deal with the devil. To keep his daughter safe, undermining her choice to be a vigilante. Then she dies and he feels deep guilt and grief.

S5: he’s a deep, understandable wound that made him leave Donna, who he’s crazy about, and return to the booze. He gets therapy and tries to move forwards. He sees BS for what she is: an abomination of his daughter and shows some progression, has some amazing scenes with Rene and we think it’s literally the start of something new for Quentin…

S6: HE’S IN A DEEP GRIEF/GUILT SPIRAL ABOUT BS WHO IS SUDDENLY HIS DAUGHTER AFTER HE SHOT HER BECAUSE SHE WASN’T AND MUST MAKE HER BECOME HIS DAUGHTER WHO DIED BECAUSE HE CAN’T HEAL UNLESS SHE BECOMES HIS DAUGHTER…

Every season, Quentin’s story becomes more and more about his daughters, until he doesn’t have a story – or life – of his own.

Like Curtis, with his constant lack of story line, making it so that he has to continuously pilfer from Felicity’s.

Like with Thea - though this is more on Willa’s life the past couple of years than the writers - who has had no real storyline or love interest since S4.

Diggle is different: he seems to have a season that pays attention to him, then a season where he steps back. I fully expect for S7 to either be a season where he has nearly zero focus - after several episodes already in season 6 where he’s been focal - or, if it’s the last, to be integral once more. I’m not really fused at this point; just grateful for the focus but I do question some of the writers choices this season.

(DIVERGING FOR A HOT SECOND: Diggle’s drug abuse was rushed. Horribly so. For the first time, though I love his character, I thought Dig deserved to re-earn some trust. Looks like he’s allowed to endanger the team because he’s Diggle. He puts himself on a pedestal that’s hard to stay on top of and yet, he falls off it and doesn’t feel too badly about it? How uncharacteristic. He has reasons he deemed good enough. He asked Felicity to lie for him, knowing Olicity’s history. He stopped being an addict fast too. I mean I know he’s awesome but… didn’t you want Lyla to slap him round the head? And for Felicity to be angry that he kept this from her amongst other things? And this sudden (literally came from out of left field) desire for him to BE Green Arrow which we all know he can never be??? Never mind…)

But this is what happens when there are too many characters and only 1 hour per episode, even without FB’s.

So, Quentin! What gives?

If this SL doesn’t end in Quentin getting some therapy, or even a mention of something similar - or even his death, which I don’t want to happen but might because narrative cues indicate it as a possibility (or maybe we’ll just see how E2 Quentin died in fb’s) - then it’s an assassination of character. He’s completely forgotten that the body of his real daughter lies in a grave he cried over and every single time he calls BS his daughter and looks at her lovingly, even as she stares at him like he’s lost the plot and tells him I’M NOT HER, I feel a tad sick. What’s worse is that – as per the Lance logic rule – not a single character has told him he’s become a creepy git. I actually felt a little sorry for BS because psychologically hounding a person isn’t right no matter who you’re hounding.

Plus, you know, BS is a sadistic serial killer and Laurel, for all her faults - for being selfish, for suffering from such extreme tunnel vision that she often disregarded the people around her and for the way she put people on pedestals that she herself couldn’t stand on (KC actually said this about LL) - wasn’t.

So what is it that Quentin is trying to accomplish?

The best possible answer to this would be that he wants her to - like Helena who isn’t close to BS level crazy - repent and pay for crimes, to aim for goodness.

Horrifyingly I don’t think that’s the case (unless he knows something we don’t and ‘seeing his daughter in her eyes’ is not one of those things). I hope it is…

But what does this mean?

The scene at the end of 6.13, with Quentin and BS in the car was chilling because, more than it showing how very much BS didn’t want to be there, the moment made me see Quentin in a mentally unstable way. Though it might be a hope too far to reach, I’m hoping there’s something in this past his desperation to save the look-a-like of his daughter.

Because, you see; he didn’t treat Laurel the way he should have at times. This is all guilt fuelled. He loved his daughter. If it was just grief, he wouldn’t be doing it like this. Or at all. But his guilt and desperation led him on a mission. He wants to save her soul. But you can’t save a person who doesn’t want to be saved. Narratively speaking anyway. Knowing the changeability of the writers in regards to the Lance, she’ll have gone through a 180 change by the next one, but they know – as well as we do – that KC is best as a villain so, what’s going on?

I’m almost intrigued. BUT. If this is all the storyline Quentin is going to get, then he might as well go off with Donna into the sunset. Or have BS kill him out of irritation. Really, what a waste.

And believe it or not, I mean this for both Quentin and BS.

In Greek and Roman mythos, sirens are dangerous creatures that lure sailors with their singing to shipwreck and often, kill them. Everything about them is supposed to de seductive, from their voice, to their faces and their talents and… that wasn’t really what we’ve been shown so far, save for ONE scene. Wouldn’t it have been thrilling to have a villain who looks the spit of a dead friend but who goes about twisting men around her finger before killing them? I would have had her go after Felicity too, because they were great in their face-off 5.10.

And Quentin? There was one other, very small element to season 6 that made me happy for him. He and Oliver have stepped into the light together. He stood by him as a father figure at his wedding. PROGRESSION that was immediately destroyed soon afterwards.

Now, I will never undermine loss. And a parent’s loss (like a child’s) is vastly different from any other. A parent, who loves their children, should never have to outlive a child they have raised. If they do, how unimaginable must it be for them to loose a chunk of their hearts like that? So, in a very real sense I can’t empathise with Quentin about his loss. I can believe it might unhinge him and therefore make him attempt to do the things he normally wouldn’t. In one form or another, he’s lost both daughters. Maybe he’s just cracked in half.

I find it interesting however, that they (the writers, producers, show runners etc) give Quentin this latitude, but Oliver - who has systematically lost his father, Shado, Slade, island woman with bad acting, Tommy, his mother, his sister (who was in a coma without hope of recovery) and, emotionally for a time, Felicity - hasn’t.

Thea too, who’s lost almost as much.

In the crossover, there was a brief scene between Oliver and the evil version of Tommy, where Oliver DID try to make him see the light. But the way they filmed it, felt more like he was saying ‘you can change. You can try to be good, like my Tommy was. In this earth, we were best friends who both loved the same woman and you died for that woman. Don’t let what’s happened to your home, happen here.’ It’s very close to Quentin’s actions but it’s also vastly different.

Quentin is trying – hard – to convince BS that she IS his daughter. That she has her personality. That BS is as good as LL was, baffling regardless of her actions. That she can kill and defile his daughter’s reputation, because she IS his daughter.

How does one transfer real emotion onto a stranger and smile about it Quentin?

But, since Arrow doesn’t always hit the nail on the head, chances are this is viewed as Ok behaviour. …Which means I’m probably not going to get what I want.

I’m not even saying that BS can’t be redeemed, but to do it like this? Who says she can’t suddenly WANT to be good - she’d have to go to great lengths to make us understand how she could take deep, obvious pleasure in murdering a person yet want to be good after so much not good and good luck with that - for herself.

To make it about LL and NOT about BS eradicates BS’s identity, which is what bothers me about KC’s fans. They really don’t care at all about her character: they just want her on screen as much as possible. And since almost every comment about her focuses on a particular comic romance that has been dead on the show since S2, I can see it reflected in the writers - though they are being kinder than most think - investment in this character and why it hasn’t travelled beyond Quentin in season 6.

I didn’t want Quentin defined by BS. Just as I didn’t want BS defined by the two things that LL was defined by.

Her family. The Past.

Now... we all know that, to some degree, Lance is going to get what he wants because, I think this is his way to healing. It’s deeply disturbing and about 100 degrees opposite what I wanted to see from him. 

He feels that if he saves this version of his daughter, then he can move on but, unfortunately, doing so means projecting LL onto BS and it’s clear the writers are going with that for now. Doesn’t mean she’s redeemed. it does mean she has Quentin in her corner.

And because she does... because she has information... he’s going to drag OTA into it... and this will set off a Dinah shaped bomb with attack dog and whatever the frack Curtis is at them and this will be the end of any hope in reconciliation between the two teams.

Seriously.

And, with the way the newbies have been behaving the last few episodes, I won’t even be sorry.

Remember Rene broke the trust first and Oliver responded badly. But then as if to prove Oliver right, Rene makes damn sure he knows he can’t be depended on... and blames Oliver. Every episode since, where Oliver offered an olive branch, they basically threw it in his face. Now they through digs - no honour or respect or maturity. OF COURSE BS WILL BE USED TO MAKE THIS WORSE.

LL, BS - whichever form of the same woman appears, you can bet Quentin will do something where he aims for peace but causes destruction. Or he aims for justice and gets everyone hurt.

If they do redeem her, she needs to do time for her crimes, which are large. And they start where? E2. If it happens, then I’d have her go back to E2 and redeem. But I really wanted a villain. I honestly don’t see how they could convince me of anything else.

No, they are not setting her up to become BC - no matter how far Dinah sinks, she’ll still be BC. That’s not what they’re doing.

But who knows, maybe they won’t. Maybe she’ll be consistent for once, and prove that she loves the way she is and won’t change because of the look-a-like of her father and she wins there. Unlike Quentin, she sees a man who looks and sounds like her father but she is under no delusion of who he is. It’s why she’s been able to hurt him.

And we’re only up to episode 13 *rubs hands together* - I may sound all sorts of confused and negative with the above SL but it doesn’t mean I’m not invested. I want to see what they do with this but depending on how it’s handled, will mean whether I give even a small crap about Quentin in the future. 

[imaginingit]

surgeon!wonwoo

i suck balls at science and can’t remember anything at all from any of my classes but i think it’s one of the most interesting and unfathomable concepts in the world - and in my world, so does wonu so enJOY

wonwoo and his specs gave me this idea and it ki l l ed m e

so i knew i had to write a lil something abt it :-)

ok where do we start

remembered his mama camping out in the kitchen all the time and then heard the occasional “ah!” as she nipped her finger cutting some onions

and raced like usain freaking bolt to the medicine cabinet to reach the bandaids

and the look in her eyes when he quickly patched it onto her

it was just a bit of blood, but 4 year old!wonwoo was still hopped up on the high kitchen counter with one hand on his hip, the other wiping an imaginary sweat drop from his head, and gave a nice long “phew! you’re ok, ma! scared me there”

then proceeded to yell at her with his extremely not-deep-yet voice (om g can u imagine) for not being careful enough and interrupting his power ranger episode

but a few nipped fingers and a million thank-you smooches (“eW MOM gEt awAY i’m 4, i’m too old for kisses) later, jeon wonwoo decided to become a surgeon

bc how is it not cool to sew severed fingers back together???

so through elementary and junior high, he walked into science class everyday with a little hop in his step for his favourite subject and ready to learn about cells and mitochondrial functions and enigmas of the muscle and much more

until he discovered more than just sewing severed toes and ears back together

he remembered his 7th grade teacher talking about how the brain is the most powerful thing in the world, and just a simple nug to the head can send it all crashing down

he also went on to explain that the brain will never be a mystery solved, but those who try will never be short of acclaim

and since then, he delved into the world of neurology

by delved, i mean, dove the fuck into it, then drowned, then woke, then dove some more

through high school, he topped every single one of his bio classes and won every single science award in the school board

how????

HE’S A GENIUS

and also stays in on sunday afternoons to read his bio 4.6 textbook instead of sushi with friends

leading to best friend mingyu’s endless grumbling and whining that they never get to hang out anymore

meanwhile mingyu has his socks and sweaters and clothes all at wonwoo’s place; has a toothbrush there, buys food for his parents, uses the stove at wonwoo’s more than wonwoo does the pOINT IS HE BASICALLY LIVES WITH WONWOO

but everyone around wonwoo knows how much it means to him to be able to make this work

he marvels about science bc it’s a practicality but finds beauty in its enigma and endless endeavours of research and study

(jeon wonwoo is basically a nerd)

(but a hot one)

but yes, all his life, books, textbooks, textbooks, and books are all he’s known

so with all this accumulated knowledge he literally fucking powers through his undergrad and masters programs like.  .. … bruh

he then gets accepted into the second top med school in the country boY

and this was such an eye opening experience for him because as much as his undergrad and masters did for him with theoretical aspects of science, he finally got to do hands on experiments and witness clinical trials and watched a live!! open!! brain!! surgery!!

so finally he goes through his internship and residency for a few years at this amazing hospital in the heart of the city and has already become most renown neurosurgeon the hospital has seen in years despite his age

imagine little wonu in faded green scrubs, with a tiny notepad in his hand and occasionally pushing his glasses up his nose, as he scurries around with his resident trying to take notes during rounds

to this hot-ass, confident, head of neurosurgery surgeon that has nurses and residents (even interns and PATIENTS) slipping on their drool for him in his white coat and cerulean blue dress shirt, the top button left untouched (seungcheol had to slap his hand away multiple times during breakfast to keep him from trying to button it again)

but lbr he still trips over his laces bc he forgot to tie them before he left in the morning and buttons his dress shirt wrong under his white coat when coups doesn’t come in the morning to check up on his wardrobe choices for the day 

one time, accidentally brought mingyu’s grocery shopping list from his briefcase to the pharmacy rather than the prescription for ibruprofen for his patient jesus christ wonwoo

the point is, knowledge has always come easy for him, the other stuff have not 

,,,,,,and then there’s u

oh boy

science is ur nemesis

ultimate. nemesis.

the first time you ever stepped foot into your science class in the sixth grade, every word that came out of ur teacher’s mouth, to you, was just a complete ,,,, , , ,what??

and ur not stupid (actually very completely opposite), ur brain just physically, literally, cannot comprehend the concept of science

even if it may be so extremely fascinating to u, chem!!! physics!!!! and bio!!! are allergic to sticking to ur brain so u just learn to avoid science at. all. costs.

remember when i said that jeon wonwoo was a classic genius and a social termite like he’s so shy and weird around new people that he just deflects it at all costs?

WELL NOT YOU

so u went into journalism bc instead of memorizing formulas and using every unit of area in ur brain, ur communication is ur best friend

through high school and university, you were the campus butterfly

you knew everyone and everyone knew you, and any event that needed an mc? a motivational speaker? a presenter? that’s you!

you and best friend soonyoung always do those stuff together and you fell in love with the art of communicating, articulating, and analyzing information, all the while keeping the listeners intrigued and focused the entire time

but unfortunately the years after ur undergrad trying to look for gigs with ur firm has been extremely unsuccessful and it was to the point where u didn’t know if u wanted to stop this or continue bc it was just too low of a demand

until one day!

u come into ur office and find a piece of paper on the bulletin board talking about the new neural clinical trial happening at this huge hospital near u, and they were looking for someone to cover it!

and at first u were like um kk clinic? try? what?

but .2 seconds later it hits you that thERE’S AN OPEN OPPORTUNITY

and u vow to plow through it as boring as it may be, bc it’s been just sitting there and people haven’t signed up probably cause medical cases are usually a failure and such a bore to talk abt

you need this

so u quickly apply with all the info you need to and two days later, you’re stepping foot into this huge hospital and escorted to the neuro ward to get things started

when u get to the floor ur led by nurse!jeonghan to the head surgeon on this case

i think y’all know where this ish is going 

and jeonghan begins asking u a few questions abt the case, trying to gauge where you are with the info, and its safe to say u have nada dirt on this

so he laughs and begins to explain

this was the first clinical trial this hospital has done in 14 years, and despite being a renown teaching and surgical hospital, it has never quite reached its potential on the research aspect 

so the new head of neuro, dr. jeON, has decided to go forth with the new clinical trial (an experiment where those with the sickness subjected to the study will volunteer to be apart of the research, using themselves as a way to find a cure) for huntington’s disease, an inherited brain disorder that slowly deteriorates one’s ability to move, speak, function, as brain cells being to die off

he’s already got you so hooked on the case that you begin to wonder why no one at ur firm did an extra bit of research in the first place to snatch this gig 

but ur glad anyway CAUSE ITS NOW URS

u probably looked so flabbergasted and numbly excited that jeonghan mistook it for ur cluelessness and nerves, so he goes

“dw, it’ll be fine! dr. jeon here will walk through everything with you anyway, and you’ll basically be with him for the entire course of this trial to document everything, so tomorrow, just immediately head up here”

and knocks on the door labeled “dr. jeon wonwoo, ph.d, m.d., head of neurosurgery”

and for the head of neuro, for someone taking forth in an idea that hasn’t been touched in over a dozen years in such a renown hospital, you did not expect the door to be opened by a 

beautiful

human being 

his glasses sat perfectly atop his face as his sharp yet kind eyes rested upon urs 

and his white coat and black dress shirt today and nice slim pants and a pair of $200 light brown dress shoes bOI

and when he opens the door and finds ur mouth agape and eyes shining with excitement he feels like a leap in his chest 

like who is this beautiful person 

and he scolds himself, no wonwoo stop this nOW 

and he doesn’t know if it’s bc he hasn’t been on a date in like forever or if it was simply u

answer: it was simply u 

but we’ll get to that 

and jeonghan notices the tension so begins giggling and retreating from the scene

so wonwoo clears his throat when it’s just the two of you left

introduces himself and you m e l t bc

his........voice.................

and you stutter ur name and in his head he’s like o h m g what a pretty name what do i do with myself

so you enter his office and its surprisingly extremely tidy and put together for someone that probably has to worry about so much in a day 

and begins to talk about the case with you 

and remember the cute and stuttery person that opened the door to see u like 2 minutes ago

GOODBYE

bc here’s jeon wonwoo talking about science and his eyes light up brighter than anything you’ve ever seen

he talks about huntington’s first to give you a bit of background as to what it is, and then delves right into his plan

his hands begin to move with his words and he smiles when he begins to talk about how no one has attempted this before and maybe this could make a difference in this hospital, his career, and even medical history!!

and he kinda noticed you blanking when he talked about the logistics of the science so he kinda laughs to himself, knowing that science might not be ur thing

but for some reason, ur ok with science if u have this man talking to u abt it 24/7 ;)))))))

and u take notes on this and he notices ur pretty handwriting so gathers up his GODDAMN COURAGE to ask u a simple question

“so you’re a journalist?”

and u begin to tell him that you loved being able to tlak about something that reflected on someone’s experiences and share them with the world, just liek this one 

and he smiles and thanks u, knowing that it must have been difficult to agree to a medical case 

u assure him its no problem, meanwhile swooning over his s m i l e

and it’s only been like 30 minutes but u’ve already developed a crush like wow 

so for the first week, your conversations are a wholesome mixture of science, stutters, facepalming when u say something cringey and accidentally, and hoping to make the other laugh 

in the second week, you begin to meet the patients coming in, taking each of their stories and details with huntington’s 

and for the first time, you see how wonwoo interacts with his patients

and that crush that you developed become sso much more - you have this whole new found respect for him as a doctor

with care and intent, he asks his patients abt their day before going right into details of the treatment, knowing that all these people are doing his career a favour and the least he can do before they risk their lives into this experiment is at least be their friend

and even 70 year old women that can barely move anymore still manage to blush at the sound of his voice 

u see the way he holds their hand when he’s explaining the process and the courteous nod of his head as they talk to him and u know this man is more than just a surgeon and that he’s just an amazing human 

by the third week, your conversations have now transitioned to telling each other what u did last night and what ur planning for dinner tonight 

and u know to bring him coffee every morning now

the first time u did it, he legit had STARS in his eyes bc o mg u r so cute 

and u guessed it right the first time, that he liked his coffee black with just a dash of sugar

GET THE METAPHOR

by the end of the month, the more you learn about him, the more you’re amazed

you guys become closer and share the passion of wanting to help ppl in some way

and ur relationship now has become a complete budding and teasing relationship and there’s literally never a dull moment with u 

ur fav thing to do together is to do acrostic poems

u also take bets on who’s sleeping with who in the hospital

he always wins 

“its not fair u OBVIOUSLY know more abt them than i do!!!”

“hey babe, dont hate the player, hate the game”

and then u have to keep ur knees from buckling bc bABE ? ?? ? ?

the nurses always comment on how you’ve brought him so far out of his shell and he never really used to talk to anyone besides his patients, but he’s been treating his residents to dinner, helping the nurses out with the paperwork, and it’s only been happening since u came

and u r like

. . ,,, ?? me?

and they’re like yes! do u not notice how red he turns everytime u walk into the room?

you soon learn his favourite colour is blue

his favourite band is my chemical romance 

im kiddin g 

his best friend is mingyu and he’s a chef 

you learn that he has a younger brother and his first ever splurge was buying him and his parents a cottage by the ocean

also that he never really eats at home and he barely ever gets to go home bc of the gruelling hours and so he tends to just eat in his office before he checks up on his patients during night rounds 

you also learn that he’s having a housewarming party for his new condo this saturday and was wondering if yoU’D LIKE TO COME ALONG???

by this point, your research was mainly complete and you were a third finished with ur piece on this

so ur like y know what? SURE

and u try ur fucking best not to blush, but as you leave for the night, jeon wonu does a HUGE happy dance in his office before realizing that his walls and doors are glass and peopLE CAN SEE U WONWOO GODDAMn

but he texts u his address with a smirky face 

“jeon wonwoo why are u sending me a text w a smirky face” 

“idk that was my attempt to be cool did it work” 

“no”

“oh”

so it was ur day off on the day of his party and u know wonwoo doesn’t really throw stuff like this cause he only has a "small” group of friends

“it’s only gonna be u and my small group of friends”

“how small”

“well i grew up with these guys, there are abt 13 of us”

“THIRTEEN ISN’T SMALL”

and usually you’d be fine bc u have no problem meeting ppl but like these are wonwoo’s brothers???

you wanna try so hard to impress these people bc--

wait wonu isn’t ur bf??? WYD

SNAP OUT OF IT 

so u slap urself and then take like four hours to find the right outfit and do ur hair nicely 

and u show up in ur fav outfit and look bomb asf yas 

and he opens the door after u knock

and

oh

my

lord

he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and ripped jeans 

jeon wonwoo

phd

md

head of neurosurgery 

in ripped jeans 

rip reader

and as u lose ur words, he also loses his and ur both just standing there clearly REALIZING THAT UR IN LOVE WITH THE OTHER PERSON AND THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU’VE EVER WORN ANYTHING OTHER THAN PROFESSIONAL CLOTHING AND WOW? SO? NICE?

so he snaps out of it bc yes i’m hosting this party thts right, and brings u inside 

you hear a bunch of exclaiming and hushing from inside the rooms and a lot of limbs knocking into the walls as 13 human beings sprint from inside of the condo to mEET THE JOURNALIST THAT JEON WONWOO HASN’T SHUT UP ABOUT IN TWO MONTHS 

and they all rush out and ur a bit overwhelmed but introduce urself and then scan through all the faces

you notice nurse!jeonghan, head of pediatrics!chan, his best friend, mingyu, and--

wait

“KWON SOONYOUNG???????”

yes ur best friend from uni also happens to have grown up in the same neighbourhood as surgeon jeon and u cant believe ur luck

so hoshi jumps out from the herd of men and tackles you with a hug and u can’t believe this until wonwoo explained he didn’t tell them ur name bc they would go crazy stalker-bitch mode, hence why they were so excited to meet u today 

so the rest of the night was spent with everyone being completely loud and tipsy and pushing the two of u together in an attempt to be slick they’re not 

and u see the bond that all the boys have and how boisterous wonwoo is around them too and u feel so lucky and ur heart is so full to witness a group of people truly in love and as close with one another 

so by the end of the night, as they all leave, soonyoung stops u at the door before he goes and tells u how happy he is that after losing touch post-uni, u’ve managed to bump into each other today again

but he also hugs u and tells u that wonwoo hasn’t shut up abt u 

and that he hasn’t been in touch with his brothers in a rlly long time bc of stress and anticipation with this new project

and that although wonwoo doesn’t do this much, he can tell that he’s super comfortable around u and that he seems to glow when he talks abt u 

and ur like omg s o noyougn  st op po

so after he leaves, you stay behind to help clean up 

but you’ve also decided

to confess

bc ur project is almost over and the paper is almost finished and ur ok with leaving on this note, regardless of if he reciprocates the feelings or not 

u just had to tell him, it was in ur nature to 

and u almsot back out but at the door, just as ur about to leave 

you were gonna say it 

and then 

his lips are on urs and god they’re soft and ur eyes just close immediately and his two hands cup ur face, intensifying the kiss, holding u up and taking up ur space as if he owns it and wow, it does things to u 

after what feels like an eternity, you part and u look at him with his swollen lips and rosy cheeks and glistening eyes and u almost cried right then adn there

bc wow ur in love with jeon wonwoo and u can’t believe u haven’t even told him that 

“i’ve been waiting to do that for so long”

“idiot, i was gonna confess first”

shrugs “i guess i just beat u in everything then”

that gets a smack on the head

until he asks u to stay the night and he can drive u both to work in the morning tomorrow and u agree bc how can u say no and so u end up staying over and wearing his sweater to bed and he lies there in bed literally hyperventilating bc SWEATERS ARE HIS WEAKNESS LIKE WHAT

so u drive into work the next morning with ur hands intertwined and in the corner of ur eye as ur walking in, u see head of pediatrics!chan slap a fifty dollar bill into nurse!jeonghan’s hands

so the rest of that month is spent going through with each patient and stealing chaste kisses in the x-ray viewing rooms and getting teased by everyone in the hospital 

even the patients 

until by the third month, the trial hits its first roadblock 

patient 04 had died on the table just as jeon wonwoo was inserting the second tube, and as surprised as u are that this was the first malfunction with the trial, it hits u nonetheless

hearing the news, u drop everything and go to his office after the surgery

this was the first taste of adversity in ur relationship too and u were curious to see as to how you guys were going to deal with this, esp since ur work was integrated into ur personal life 

but u walk in and there he is 

eating a freaking popsicle 

jeon wonwoo’s patient just died on the table and he’s in here eating ice cream

and u didn’t know if u were confused? angry? horrified?

and u close the door behind u as u walk in and draw the blinds for the glass walls and windows 

and as u turn around from doing that, he chucks the popsicle into the bin, walks up to you slowly and drops his head onto ur shoulder

you freeze, unsure if he’s crying or not, but u hear steady breathing and his arms slowly creeping around u and ur sure he isn’t 

but u can tell that he’s exhausted and scared, even if no words are shared between the two of u 

so you both stand there for god knows how long, holding each other, breathing each other in, releasing all tension and heartache from the day without a single word, just the sound of heartbeats and breathing 

until finally he lifts his head, eyes droopy and a small smile on his face, arms still around you, when u cup his face and tell him that ur so damn proud of him 

everything is going to hit a roadblock at some point, and this was bound to happen. we entered this knowing that it was science; anything can happen. just hang in there, wonu, we can do it 

and that was the first time wonu said i love u out loud 

and for all the people that doubted he was going to ever get a girlfriend with his head stuck in so many textbooks, it was the head stuck in the textbook method that even got him here to meet u in the first place SO SUCK IT

and so by the time u finish ur paper and the trial is reaching its end, there was a mixture of patients that successfully responded to the trial and those that didn’t make it 

but ur paper gets high acclaim from hospitals across the province for its research and editorial skills

and wonwoo received the highest achievement award from the board for his endeavours with the trial 

and after many long and gruelling months filled with work and chaste kisses here and there

you finally have time to take a seat and take in everything 

and marvel at wonu as a surgeon and as a human

bc how in the damn world did u ever get so lucky with science??

this,, ,, ,, is so long but enjoy bc i love jeon wonwoo 

:)