#I’m sobbing the Phoenix at the bottom

[doctorsiren]

Felt like some simple painting today

[roosterbruiser]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐃. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟖.𝟓𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“Whose is it, birdie?” Bradley asks, eyes wide. "It's all over--whose blood is that?"

He hasn’t moved his hands from your warm and sticky face--he’s still cupping your cheeks, face contorted in anguish as his eyes pour into yours. 

You drop the ax and the shotgun on the ground--they make a dull thump, one you can feel in the soles of your feet and in your pulsing head. There’s a lump in your throat so obstructive, so thick and overwhelming, that you can’t speak. 

All you can do, as Rooster looks down at you while the swallows begin to swoop from roof to roof and the irises emit their sweet scent, is cry.

How can you explain to Rooster, who’s held it together this entire time, that you can’t hold it together right now because of what you just witnessed? How are you going to explain to him that you had the person cornered--that you could’ve shot him--and you didn’t because Paul needed help? And even then, even when you abandoned your firing position to help Paul, it was all fruitless because Paul is dead and his body is in the woods all on its lonesome. 

“Birdie,” Rooster mutters. He smooths a hand through your hair, dirty with lake water and leaves and blood, and shakes his head softly. “Who’s bleeding?” 

“Paul,” you finally choke, shaking your head. He thumbs your tears, but it’s for naught. “It--it was Paul’s.” 

It was Paul’s. 

Rooster looks you up and down--the blood is all over you. Up to your ankles and covering your shoes, all over your shins, dried up your legs, staining your poor dungarees again. 

“Oh, baby,” he whispers to you. His bottom lip trembles. “Is he…?” 

You nod--just barely. 

Rooster doesn’t ask any more questions. 

You think, suddenly and very clearly, that you’re not sure how much fight you have left in you. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep doing this. 

Mable was right. There is no way out. You will bathe in your own blood and be torn limb by limb as the depths of Hell calls for you. There is no way out. 

If you let go, if you give in, if you wait to die--then what will happen? Everyone else will die. No one else is as good a shot as you. No one else is willing to trek through the woods. No one else can suture a gash or staunch a wound or cauterize a limb.

So, you have to push forward. It’s a decision that is made with haste.Very swiftly, you realize you’re not going to lose your head now. You’re not going to break down again. You’re gonna keep going--you have to keep going. 

“He…he said he’s back,” you whisper to Rooster, wiping your own cheeks now. “He said…he told me to--to run away. I didn’t think he was--I didn’t listen to him. He said that he’s back--he’s back, he’s back. I don’t know what he…”

You don’t rest your head on Rooster’s chest and you don’t lessen the burden of that lump in your throat. You’re in shock, you know--which is why the tears running down your face are involuntary.

“Who?” Rooster presses, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. Your head is spinning. “I don’t know.” 

Only a moment before Rooster is going to pull you to him, only a moment before you’re going to ask him if he found anything in the woods, the walkie deep in your pocket comes to life. 

“Gale!” Phoenix sobs through it. “Gale! Are you there? Oh, God--Gale, please!” 

Scrambling to grab the walkie, Rooster leans down and takes the ax in his hands. It’s with his heart in a cold, cold puddle that he sees that it’s the ax from the mess hall. D.G. He says nothing to you, just holds onto the handle tight. 

“I’m--I’m here,” you answer Phoenix, shuffling to grab the shotgun. You start for the bus barn, wiping your face clean of tears. 

“It--it’s Bob,” Phoenix sobs. “I think he’s--I think he’s--!” 

“I’m coming,” you tell her. “I’m coming.” 

Phoenix, who’s trying desperately to blot the cold sweat from Bob’s face as Coyote sends all the children to the back of the bus, doesn’t feel relieved by your answer. She thought she would--if not to just know that you’re alive then simply because she won’t have to be alone with Bob anymore. Help will be on the way. Bob will be okay. 

“I’m so--fuck, I’m so cold,” Bob whispers to her, lips quivering. “Can you start the fire?”

Phoenix’s tongue is dry. 

“Bob, we’re on the bus,” she says, voice thin and flat. “There’s no fireplace.”

He’s confused. He’s been confused for a few hours now. Phoenix knows this is the infection--that it must be spreading. But still, she desperately runs her palms up and down his arms to try and get some friction. This cold that Bob feels, though--it’s not one she can fix. It’s not even one a fire could fix. 

She pulls the walkie to her mouth again, breathing heavily. 

“Gale, quick! Please!” 

“I’m on my way,” you say back. 

You don’t say I’m going as fast as I can, but I’m so tired. I’m so scared. I want to give up. I’m only coming because it’s you and it’s Bob and it’s Coyote and the campers. But that’s it, that’s all. I want to lie down. But it’s what you’re thinking. 

And you’re by yourself suddenly as Rooster falls behind you, taking a glance at the perimeter of camp just in case Jake shows his face. He doesn’t fall in step with you again--he’s going to stay out here and guard. You think maybe it’s because Bradley isn’t brave enough to see it up close--Bob hurt, infected, writhing. 

And, really, you don’t blame him. 

You’d rather be anywhere else. 

The sun is warm on your back. The blood is itchy on your skin. You’re running as fast you can, limping with tired, your temples throbbing. Your heart thumps in your ears.

At any moment, an ax could come whizzing out from the woods. There could be a hiding place just yonder, far enough away that you never see it coming. You could hear its noise, fast and sharp like a whip, and then that could be the end. An ax to the head, to the back, to the legs, and you’re down. A peculiar sensation prickles your spine, torments the swollen muscles in your legs and arms: you could die at any moment. Right here, at Camp Arcadia, on the gravel just outside the bus barn. No one could do a thing about it either. 

Oh, God, you think. Where are you?

When you step onto the bus, you know. 

It is quiet--so very quiet. No one knows what to say to a dying man and that is what Bob is. None of the campers are whispering and none of the counselors are rustling. Phoenix is sitting in the front seat with Bob over her lap, sobbing as Bob blinks up at her, only barely conscious. Coyote is kneeled beside them, his lip being sawed in half by his own teeth as he tries to keep from crying. 

The smell comes first--that distinct perfume, so familiar and pungent with musk. It’s the rot, you know. It’s the body shutting down, the organs giving in, the skin infected. But to you, it just smells like death. The two of you are thick as thieves. 

And then, when you look at Bob and everyone else looks at you to save the day, saliva gathers underneath your tongue and your lashes begin to quiver. Pennies settle beneath your tongue. 

“I’m here,” you whisper, your throat burning. “I’m here now.” 

Phoenix doesn’t understand why you’re not rushing to Bob’s aid. She doesn’t understand why you’re not suturing or cleaning or wrapping or whatever else the fuck you’re suppoosed to do to save him. You should be ordering everyone around, saving Bob. You should be stony right now--but your face is soft and wet.

“Help him,” she cries. “Get over here--help him! Help him, he’s dying!”

Coyote knows when he looks at you. The sun is just barely puncturing the bus barn, just barely lighting the side of your face. You’re covered in blood, limply holding the shotgun, looking down at Bob with an agonized sense of forbearance. You cannot save him. Nobody can--he is too far gone. Coyote bows his head and that is when the tears come.

“Phe,” Coyote whispers. He sets a hand on her elbow. She jerks away from him, looking at him as if he’s just burned her. Her eyes are wild with grief. “Phe, there’s nothing--!” 

“--Fuck you,” Phoenix spits at Coyote, her face split in half by anguish. She’s never felt this way before--she’s never felt this mind-splitting, chest-numbing pain. But it’s suddenly drowning her and she feels that no one is throwing her a life preserver. You’re all watching her flounder. “Please…please…” 

Slowly, you kneel beside Coyote. Everything smells like sweat and dust, but this close to Bob, you are practically rubbing noses with death. You can see the freckles on its cheeks. 

You carefully place your hand on Bob’s leg. He looks down at you, pale as white-sand and shaking. Cold sweat covers his face, stains his shirt. His eyes are focused, but untrained. 

“Bob,” you whisper. “We’re here.”

That’s about all you can say to him. Not just hold on, we’ll fix you up. Not only another minute, it’s okay, it’s alright. Not help is on the way. You’re going to make it.

He’s so cold--so, so cold. And he’s been cold since he went out into the night, since he was struck. He’s known, from the very beginning, that he’s dying. He just didn’t know how to tell anyone else. And he knew everyone else was too afraid to tell him. 

 But when you say that--we’re here--something grows warm in Bob. He’s been in and out of fitful dreams, sometimes dreaming about his father’s fingers on the strings of a guitar and sometimes dreaming about his less than stellar date with Michelle Johnson. It’s peculiar--he never thought dying would be so slow, so tedious. 

“Payback and Fanboy haven’t walkied,” Coyote whispers to you. The only recognition you show is a slow blink. “Maybe they’re close.” 

“Maybe,” you whisper back.

The both of you know that it wouldn’t matter, anyhow. By the time the tree is moved, by the time the brigade is here if they’re coming, Bob will be gone.  

Reaching up, you take Phoenix’s hand. She looks at you, brown eyes wide with horror, and almost pulls away. But then Bob, with the last bit of his strength, puts his hand over hers, too. 

“Thank you,” he tells Phoenix. She looks down at him, shaking her head with her eyes wide. He doesn’t break their gaze, lips trembling. “You’re my best friend.” 

“Stop that,” Phoenix demands softly. “Cut it out, Bob! You’re fine!” 

“I’m dying,” he whispers. He swallows hard. His throat is so very dry. “I didn’t know how to…how to tell you.” 

Phoenix sobs. 

“No,” she whispers. She blinks hard, shaking her head. “Bob, I can’t--please, please, please…” 

Leaning down, she holds Bob’s body against hers. He blinks a few times, the sunlight coming over his face just barely. It’s good to feel warm, he thinks. 

“I know…I know you hate Cutting Crew,” Bob starts. With the last bit of his strength, he smiles. It’s a barely-there, strained thing. But it’s there. “But they wrote our song, huh?” 

It takes a moment for everyone to register what Bob’s saying. For a second, you think he’s delirious. But then Coyote chokes out a loud laugh, a few stray tears running down his face. 

Phoenix looks up, puzzled, and then it dawns on her. 

(I Just) Died In Your Arms. Cutting Crew. She groans every time it comes on the radio just before tuning to another station. She’s literally left coffee shops over the song. Bob knows this. But now it’s the song that will make her think of Bob because he’s willed it so. It’s the song that will remind her of this exact instance--sitting on the bus, terrified, dirty, holding her best friend as he dies. 

“Bob,” Coyote laughs. He’s about to say that he’s a sly, sly dog. That he’s got the jokes. But just the sound of his name falling off his lips is enough to halt Coyote. That is the last time he will ever call Bob’s name and have Bob answer to it. “I…I love you, man.” 

Bob smiles. 

“I love you, too, man,” Bob whispers. “Don’t tell Phoenix.” 

And then Bob is looking at you. You with your eyes heavy with tears and your face a calm and placid sea. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it--he doesn’t know how you haven’t given up yet. But he knows that he loves you for it. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to Bob, tears pouring down your face. You sniffle and sigh. “I’m really, really sorry Bob. More sorry than I’ve ever been.”

He knows what you’re apologizing for: not saving him. 

“No hard feelings,” he whispers to you. Another meek smile tugs on his lips. “You did good.”

You did good. 

Choking on your grief, you can hardly stand to look at him anymore. You can hardly stand kneeling here, breathing in all this death. But you know this is where you’re supposed to be. 

Just as Phoenix is about to sob again, a meager voice finds place in the stale air around everyone. 

“Can I pray for you, Mister Bob?” Mable asks softly. There are tears in her eyes as she blinks at everyone. “If that’s okay…”

You glance at Phoenix, who looks like she never wants to see Mable Brandt’s face ever again in her long, long life without Bob. Bob was born Godless and will die Godless. But then Bob is nodding. 

“That’d be swell, kid,” he whispers. A shuddering breath falls from his lips. “Make it out to Bob Dylan, would ya?” 

Mable sniffles. She rests her hands on your shoulders because you, out of everyone here, are the only one that can hold her up. And you let her hold you--even close your eyes and feel the heat of her body against you and fall into a dreamless, sleepless state. 

“Dear Heavenly Dylan,” Mable starts. Bob lets out a quiet laugh--a weezy, tired thing. It is the last time he will ever laugh. “Please take Mister Bob’s pain away--he’s been in an awful lot of it since the attack and I think he’s tired now. He’s a real nice guy--he never yelled at me or anyone else. I don’t think it’s very fair that he’s got so many boo-boo’s.”

No one speaks as Mable continues praying, everyone’s head slightly bowed and eyes drifted shut. Everyone’s face is wet with tears that are shining in the yellow light. 

“And we know that you’ll have a place for him when he gets to where he’s going, alright? So, make sure it’s nice and clean. And make sure there’s aspirin there because Mister Bob doesn’t feel so hot right now. But most of all--keep him safe on his way. Miss Nightingale and Miss Phoenix did the best they could. It’s your turn now.” 

An overwhelming sense of peace finds Bob. His fingers are numb--he wonders, strangely, if they’re already dead. Maybe when you die, it’s piece by piece, a little at a time. And maybe his fingers went first.

“I’m scared,” Phoenix whispers to Bob, looking down at his pale cheeks. “I can’t…I can’t never see you again.”  

He takes a deep breath. His lungs are warm, very warm. 

“I’ve been here the whole time,” he whispers to her. “You’ll manage.”

He’s accepted this. This is okay. He is looking up at his best friend in the world and it is the last thing his eyes will ever see. And he thinks, with a sudden swell of pride, that he did good. She’s really the cream of the crop--the best friend he could have asked for.

Something flickers behind his eyes, bright yellow and aquamarine and jet black--memories. They flutter past his vision, clear and crisp, like he’s pulling the little plastic lever on a viewfinder of his own life. 

The smell of his mama’s hotcakes on late Sunday mornings, Bob sleepy and syrupy and reaching for more butter despite his mother’s tutting. Lazing around the pool with his kid brother, Neil Young humming on the radio as his daddy grills. Sitting in the movie theater during Star Wars, too engrossed in the movie to realize that Lisa Patterson is making googly eyes at him. Finally kissing Michelle Johnson at the roller rink, her tight curls gleaming beneath the disco ball, her skin shining blue and pink. Reading Kurt Vonnegut in his car before class, holding in tears when the profoundness struck him over the head like a brick. Holding hands with Phoenix during games of Red Rover, their mouths wide open, their hairlines dotted with sweat. Swimming in the lake after tipsy bonfires, bobbing his head beneath the water, listening to the muted sound of you squealing when Jake pulls you up on his shoulders. His toes in cold, cold mud. His face against the warm, warm sun. The first snow of the year blanketing the front lawn. His dorm room, which always smells like crayons for some reason. His best friends pedaling down the street, swerving at cars and whooping and hollering, switching gears up the big hill on Freemont. His daddy taking his mama’s hands and dancing her around the wrapping-paper covered living room, her new necklace gleaming on her throat like a personal star on a silver chain. Holding his baby cousin for the first time, breath caught in his throat and arms stiff because he’s never held anything so tiny. Cutting his knees on concrete. Hitting his head on that shelf in the living room. Learning how to change a tire. Driving down his street for the first time. Playing his guitar in his room, shutting his eyes, and quietly whispering Bob Dylan songs.

He can hear it now--Bob Dylan is playing. And it isn’t him singing and it isn’t him playing the guitar. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from or why it’s so loud, so clear, so sudden. But there it is--clear as the day is blue. It’s like there’s a private concert just for Bob and he’s in the front row, the sun warm on his face and shoulders, his arms raised in ecstasy. 

That long black cloud is comin' down

I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

He always wanted to be front row at a Bob Dylan concert. He was saving up to take him and Phoenix. 

Funny how life works that way, he thinks. 

Oh, well. So it goes.

“Please, if you could make it easy, we would all really appreciate it. And in Bob Dylan’s name we pray…amen.”  

And then, with a final shuddering breath, Bob Floyd dies in his best friend’s arms on a disjunct bus on the worst Thursday of anyone’s life. He was the newest counselor at Camp Arcadia. This was only his second summer. 

“Bob?” Phoenix asks. Panic shoots up and grabs onto her ears, tugging hard. His lips are parted, his eyes are open. He is not moving. “Bob! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!” 

Mable leans down to your ear. You’re so thoroughly covered in blood that you look like something that crawled out of a horror film--she can make out the tracks of your tears as the salt cuts through the gore on your cheeks. It’s an image that will stay with her for the rest of her life, one she’ll doodle inside book covers and on the backs of restaurant napkins. She’s so young now that when she’s older, she’ll wonder if her juvenile mind was exaggerating just how gory you look. But it is not an exaggeration at all. 

“You have to fight it,” she whispers in your ear. Her cut begins to bleed. “It’s here.”

When you look up, your eyes fluttering open again after seemingly being pasted shut, you see another dead body. Your second this morning. There is less blood and more sunlight, but it is still there right before you. 

As if a mortar has suddenly gone off beside your cheek, your ears are hollowed out and ringing. You can see Phoenix screaming, can see her patting Bob’s cheeks, but you can’t hear her shrill tone or the lifeless thumps on his skin. Coyote touches your shoulder and you think maybe he’s saying something to you, but you don’t look at him. 

Vision beginning to vignette, you stand slowly. And then you turn and walk all the way off the bus, the blood on your shoes matted with dirt and grime. You take a few stumbling steps, the gun clenched tightly in your hands. Then you open the doors, let the sunlight in. If someone was running full-speed at you, intent on cutting you down, you wouldn’t hear it. And you think you wouldn’t fight it either. 

The only way you know you’re on the ground is when the gravel slices your knees open. It is not from brute strength that you have fallen--no one has hit you. It is because you are drained. Entirely, completely, wholly drained. 

Bradley finds you only a few moments later. 

You’re on your hands and knees just outside the bus barn, clutching the gravel with the gun laid out just beside you. Your back bows, curved like the neck of a preening swan, and you suddenly heave. Vomit spews across the rocks--all stomach acid. 

Oh, he realizes. Bob’s dead. 

He stops where he is, only a few paces from you, and watches all of your humanness from afar. Surely you’ve seen dead bodies before in your line of work--in fact, he knows you have--but maybe you’ve never seen it this close. And it has never, ever been a friend. That must be what’s different about this one, he thinks. That’s it. That must be it. 

And then he watches you stop. You suddenly swallow hard and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, eyebrows furrowed and lips trembling. Then you fight to your feet, wobbling and quivering, leaning over once more to grab the gun and hold it to your body. 

As if you knew he was there the entire time, you look at Bradley. He can see it from where he is, dazed and heartbroken and lovesick: there is fight in your eyes. It is dim, it is full, it is small, it is hazy--but it’s there, gleaming in the early morning light.

You have to fight it. It’s here. 

“We have to find him,” you tell Bradley. Your voice is ragged and thin. You swallow hard, shaking your head. “No one else is dying today, alright?” 

Bradley nods at you, dumbfounded and grief-stricken. His throat is tight. 

“Alright,” he answers. He takes a deep breath, fills his lungs.“Birdie, I…I think I might have an idea.” 

♀

“What do you mean?” Coyote asks. “You two are gonna just…play music? And get him to come? Like…a dog or something?” 

“So he knows where we are,” Bradley defends, his voice hard and serious. “We’re not, like, whistling for him.” 

“And you think that’ll make him come?” Coyote asks, brow perched. 

He glances at you. You’re not looking at him. 

“He’ll come. He’ll come if he knows Gale’s there.” 

Coyote opens his mouth to argue, but then you quietly add, “What other option do we have? I can’t…I’m not strong enough to go back out in the woods.”

“I could go,” Coyote offers. 

You shake your head.

“I’m the good shot,” you whisper. And all that responsibility weighs down on you again. “It would have to be me. And you’re hurt.”

Coyote knows you’re right. He carefully touches the back of his head, wincing when the gash stings beneath his fingers.

Phoenix’s eyes are on the floor. Her throat hurts too bad to say anything. She won’t look up at you and Bradley as you stand outside the bus with Coyote, relaying the plan. 

“And when he--if he comes, then what?” Coyote asks. He swallows hard, his head pulsing. “You’re gonna…?” 

“Wait. For help,” you whisper. 

Coyote looks at your face--still covered in blood, but stained with a detached sort of anger. You’re resolute and morose all wrapped up in bloody dungarees. 

“Back to square one, then, huh?” He asks softly. 

“What’s the alternative?” Bradley counters. “Killing him?” 

“No one else is dying today,” you say matter-of-factly. You look at the two men, who are looking at you already with their mouths flat and their chests heaving. “I mean it, alright? No one else.” 

“Alright,” Coyote answers. “So, Phoenix and I should just hang around? Wait?” 

You nod. Coyote shudders at the thought of just waiting. 

“We’ll come get you when it’s…” you start, trailing off with your brows furrowed. 

“Over. We’ll come get you when it’s over,” Bradley answers. “Don’t open the doors for anyone but us, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Coyote answers. He takes a long, deep breath. His head hurts. “Okay. Are you sure you don’t want me to help? Strength in numbers, right?” 

You glance at Phoenix. She’s still holding Bob. Though now that the tears have stopped, she’s completely quiet. You fear, suddenly and completely, that she’ll never speak again. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Stay here with her.” 

Glancing up at the bus, you see all the campers already looking at you. Knives in their little hands, fear in their little teary eyes. Their faces are almost begging, you think. 

Fight it. Fight it. Fight it. 

Toes numb with panic, you look back at Coyote. He’s already looking at you. 

“Don’t let anyone in,” you say again. You think of last night when something tried to get into the mess hall--just how close they came. “And if they do get in…corner them. Get them.”

Coyote nods firmly. You can count on him. He can count on you. The two of you have never bullshitted each other before. 

“I will,” he says. “I’ll die fighting if I have to. No one’s touching those kids.” 

Die fighting. How silly that phrase seemed before, when you’d throw it around at random. And now there’s two dead bodies and three missing counselors at Camp Arcadia. You hope you don’t die fighting like Paul, like Bob. But it would be a valiant way to go. 

“Let’s go,” Bradley says, throwing an arm around your shoulders. You’re rigid underneath his hands--it stains him, wounds him. But he doesn’t punish you for it. How could he? “We’ll be right back.” 

Coyote swallows hard. His heart is pounding. 

“Don’t say that,” Coyote pleads. “Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? Ever?” 

“This is real life,” Bradley argues. “Not some story.” 

But it was a story--before, at the bonfire. 

Damien and the Devil. Six counselors, one nurse. Slashed. Dead, gone, buried, away. 

Saying nothing more, you turn on your heel. 

It’s time to end this.

The walk back to the mess hall is very quiet. Underneath the bright yellow sun and the clear blue sky, you and Bradley say almost nothing to each other. You’re holding the gun, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest. He’s holding the ax, the one that killed Paul, and the other one he took into the woods with him. He’s glancing around the perimeter to make sure nothing’s sneaking up on the two of you. 

You’re stumbling slightly when you step--Bradley isn’t sure if it’s because you’re tired or if it’s because of the gashes on your knees or if it’s because of your shock. He does know you’re in shock--that you’ve been in shock since you tumbled out of the woods covered in Paul’s blood. You look shell-shocked, but brave. Like you know the bomb is about to drop, but you’re ready to arm yourself against whatever’s coming even if it’s for naught. Do svidaniya.

Ears still ringing, stomach still churning, you feel like the walk is too quick. Suddenly you aren't outside anymore--you’re in the mess hall in all its disarray, walking towards the kitchen with the intent of grabbing more ammunition. 

Bradley’s closing the buckshot-broken doors, brows furrowed as he examines the shots. Shit. You really did it. Something in his belly feels better knowing that you’ll shoot. You’ll pull the trigger. 

As soon as you’re through the kitchen doors, your heart stops. There on the dingy tiles is what remains of Bob’s blood--it’s smeared, dried, browned. But you can still see where he laid. And just beside the bucket, which is still full of bloody water, are Bob’s broken glasses. 

Leaning down, legs shaking, you pick the glasses up and hold them up to your face. They’re broken--the glass is cracked and the frames are bent. 

But it’s okay. He doesn’t need them anymore. 

“Oh, Bob,” you whisper. You grip the glasses hard. Tipping your head forward, you let the metal fall against your closed mouth. A sob ripples through you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Gale?” Rooster calls. He turns--sees your form frozen in the doorway, kneeling with your head bent. Starting for you, he swallows hard. “Birdie?” 

His presence behind you is warm and solid, like standing against a water heater. His chest just barely grazes your back. It brings you back a little bit--his steady and even breaths. You can count them--you can count on them. They’re there, steady, as you look down at Bob’s glasses. 

Rooster, his jaw squared, sighs gently. 

He tugs under your armpits until you’re standing on your feet again.

“Are you…are you, like, alright?” 

Dumb question, he thinks. Jesus. Dumb, dumb question.

Shaking your head, you let your eyes fall shut. 

“I’m numb,” you whisper. “I can’t…I don’t think I can…I can’t feel anything at all.”

A pang of pain radiates in Rooster’s chest. You’re so quiet, so drawn into yourself. Maybe this is your surrender. Maybe this is when you give up. Maybe this is when you call it a day and lay down and just wait for the end to come. Rooster can’t have that.

“Can you feel this?” Rooster asks. 

And you’re about to crane your neck to look at him, about to ask him what he’s doing, when the very softest of kisses lands just below your left ear. 

Oh. You can feel that. His warm lips, full of blood and live cells and made up of skin, send a shiver down your spine. 

“Yes,” you mutter. “I can.” 

Another kiss--this time in the middle of your neck. Rooster can still faintly smell jasmine on your skin. It makes him ache all over. 

“That?” He whispers. 

You nod, choked up. 

And then he’s very carefully brushing your hair off your shoulders, pushing it aside so he can see your throat and the curve of your jaw. It’s covered in blood, flaking off whenever it’s disturbed. He doesn’t care.

He kisses a trail down the back of your neck, his own eyes fluttered shut in just a moment of peace. And your body is growing softer beneath him--so soft that when he reaches around and pulls the gun from your hands, you don’t fight it. You just let your head fall to the side, eyes flickering shut. 

His palms splay on your hips. He holds you tight, pulls you until your back is flush against his chest. And your mind is buzzing and your body is growing warmer and warmer, but you cannot deny the pleasure of this encounter. This is the most human you’ve felt since all of this began, since you jumped out of bed naked when Phoenix came into your cabin. 

And even though you’re suddenly crying, even though you’re gripping his hands, you know that you need this to keep moving forward. You cannot fight if you feel like there’s nothing left to fight for--maybe the faces of the campers, stained with fear, aren’t enough for you. Maybe seeing Phoenix holding Bob still isn’t enough for you. Maybe you need this--to be touched and held. To be reminded that you can feel still. To be reminded that when this is over, there will be life to live and sex to have and jobs to hate and cars to drive and stars to gaze upon. 

This, right here, is proof of that. 

“Hold me,” you whisper, suddenly desperate. “Hold me, please.” 

You cannot remember the last time you asked someone to hold you. Rigidity sometimes feels like your natural state. Steeling yourself against death, against blood and hurt and pain. And now you’re so soft as Rooster wraps his arms around you. 

He holds you so tight that all the air leaves your lungs. 

You’re stuck still, breath stilted, lungs empty. 

Yes, you think. This is how tightly I need to be held. 

Rooster buries his nose in your neck. He can feel the tears dripping down your cheeks as they land in his hair and he only holds you tighter. He can feel that he’s squeezing the life out of you, but for some reason, he knows you want it like that. 

“I’ve got you,” he mutters to you. “I won’t let you go.”

But just as quickly as you found comfort in his arms, in his heat, against his pumping heart and hot skin, you become uneasy. It’s the thought of seeing his dead body, it’s him calling you hysterical, it’s the spit flinging out of his mouth as he called Jake the killer, it’s his naked body you left behind to find Bob. 

All of it comes at once, slaps your face until your cheeks are raw.

Wriggling your way out of his grip, you take a half-step away from him and grab the shotgun again. Rooster, slightly stunned, watches you with his mouth ajar. 

“Set the music up,” you whisper. You sniffle. “I’m gonna reload and…and get in position.” 

Jake’s trudging back towards camp, openly weeping. He hasn’t openly wept since his toddlerhood, he thinks. But he is right now: shoulders shaking, spine curving, snot dripping, tears pouring open-mouthed weeping. There’s bile covering the front of his shirt and blood on his hands, which is why he won’t look down, which is why he’s stumbling.

He’s been walking all night long--ducking behind trees, stumbling over jagged roots. He’s so tired that his bones feel brittle. He’s so thoroughly exhausted that he’s stumbling towards the mess hall now, even though he knows it’s a trap, even though he knows this might be his final location. 

Kate Bush is playing over the loudspeaker--it was loud enough for him to hear where he was just before in a puddle of blood, vomiting and swatting away swarming flies. Through his heaving, through his tears, he knew immediately that he had to go to where you were calling him from.  

Do you wanna feel how it feels? 

You must be there. You must be the one calling out to him. He wonders if maybe it’s a call for help. But no--it must be a trap. Maybe Bradley swayed you. Maybe everyone swayed you. Maybe you want him dead. Maybe, as soon as his feet cross the threshold, you’re going to shoot him in the chest. He wouldn’t be angry with you. But, boy--would he miss you if he died. 

But all he wants, as his stuttering footsteps grow nearer and nearer to the mess hall, is to keep you safe. And if you’re with him--if you’re even near him--you aren’t safe. 

Limping, he approaches the doors to the mess hall. They’re closed, but damaged. You already shot through them, Jake sees. And there’s blood dotting the doors--so much of it that he knows you must’ve really got ‘em. 

Atta girl, he thinks. 

“Jake?” Your voice comes from inside, echoing in the empty mess hall. “Is that…is that you?” 

Instead of answering, he opens the door. 

You

It's you and me

And there you are. Standing a few paces ahead of him, holding the shotgun like you’ve held it a million times before, eyes narrowed and focused on him. You’re covered in blood, even your heavy eyelids, and sniffling as you cry quietly. But even through your tears, you’re strong. He can see the fight still tugging on the ends of your hair and straining in your wobbling thighs. 

Bradley is just behind you, armed with an ax, sneering at Jake. 

“Don’t you come any closer,” Bradley demands. He rears back so the ax is in position to swing down at any given moment. “I mean it, you fuck!” 

Jake stumbles slightly as he steps into the mess hall. 

“Jake,” you whisper, shaking your head. Your throat aches with grief. “Where have you been?” 

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places

It all comes rushing back to him, a wave of grief and exhaustion and derangement. Taking a shuddering breath, he tries to communicate with you, his words coming out like a fluttering and distant bird that flies right over your head.

“Get away from him,” he whispers. 

You furrow your brows, straining to hear him over Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God).

“He’s got a weapon,” Bradley whispers to you. His heart is pounding. “Gale, he’s got an ax.” 

Fingers numb with panic, with pain, you shake your head at Jake.

You don't wanna hurt me (yeah, yeah, yo)

“Where did you get that?” You demand quietly, nodding to the ax in Jake’s hand. 

Jake glances down at the ax. He got this just a few miles outside of camp. He pried it out of Fanboy’s hands--his cold, dead hands. And then he promptly spewed vomit onto the rocks just beside his body and Payback’s. He found them, their bodies hacked, lying together. They never left each other’s sides. Not for one moment. 

“I…” Jake whispers. He swallows, head pounding. “Get away from Bradley. Please, baby, please get away from him.” 

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle your skin as they raise. 

“Can it,” Bradley spits. You don’t have to see him to know how angry Bradley is right now, sneering and snarling at Jake. “You--you fucking son of a bitch! Bob is dead! You fucking killed Bob!” 

“Stop,” you beg softly, the gun shaking in your unsteady grasp. “Jake, just…just put the ax down, alright? And then we can talk.” 

“Talk? Fuck that,” Bradley yells. “He killed Bob!” 

“You did,” Jake utters. “You killed him, Rooster.” 

Is there so much hate for the ones we love?

You hear him loud and clear as if he’s just whispered in your ear. Heart pounding, you shake your head. Fuck. Fuck.  

“He’s lying,” Bradley laughs bitterly. “You fuck--you stupid fuck! You really think she’s gonna fall for that? You think she’s gonna believe you? You destroyed the fucking cabin and went AWOL and then people started dying!” 

But Jake isn’t responding to Bradley. He’s just staring at you, cowering where he stands, defeated and terrified. His shirt is ripped and his hair is messy and there’s blood underneath his fingernails. 

“Just drop the ax,” you tell him. “I don’t want to--I’m not gonna hurt you. We’re not going to hurt each other, right? Just drop it.” 

It's you and me

Jake drops it--it clatters onto the floor unceremoniously. Your lungs deflate. 

“Nightingale,” Jake whispers. His eyes are pouring into yours, red-rimmed and wide. “You have to get away from him, baby. He’s gonna hurt you.” 

Panic is pulsing in your chest now. You’re desperately clinging to reality right now--even though you’re not sure what that is. 

“He’s trying to confuse you,” Bradley whispers. “Don’t let him.”

“Gale,” Jake begs, sobbing. He steps closer to you. You reposition your fingers so they’re not sitting on the trigger anymore. “Please…please…just get away from him! Please!” 

Eyes wide, you watch as he stumbles closer. Bradley is grunting behind you, rearing the ax up further and further. 

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Bradley sneers. “I mean it, man! Stay the fuck away!” 

“Jake,” you whisper. “Please. Please just stay where you are.” 

“Where’d you even get the ax?” Bradley asks. His voice echoes. 

Jake is still looking into your eyes, openly weeping. Bile dribbles down his chin. 

“They’re dead,” he whispers. “I--oh, God, they’re dead. I found ‘em. I found them together.” 

Be runnin' up that road

Be runnin' up that hill

You immediately know that he means Fanboy and Payback. They’re dead. They’re gone. They haven’t been answering the walkie calls. They’re not close to town at all--they’re just dead. 

A sharp and punctuated sob ripples through your entire body. Goddammit.

“Who?” Bradley demands. “Who the fuck are you--?” 

“--You know what you did,” Jake whispers to Bradley. Suddenly, Jake isn’t deflated. He’s almost close enough to reach out and touch you. Your finger isn’t on the trigger. His chest puffs up and his shoulders roll back. He can protect you. He can do that. “Don’t you fucking touch her, man. Don’t you fucking ax her like you axed them! You--you fucking got ‘em when they were sleeping, didn’t you? You’re a fucking coward.” 

Eyes wide, you begin to beg Jake to move back. 

“It’s you,” Bradley spits. “You’re the fucking killer! 

Oh, come on, baby (yeah)

Oh, come on, darlin' (yo)

“Enough,” you try desperately. “We’re gonna sit here and-and wait for Mav and Penny to come get us, alright? All of us!” But they’re not listening to you. Jake is staring at Bradley and Bradley is staring at Jake. “No one else is dying, okay?” 

“Who else is dead?” Jake asks. “Who else did he kill?” 

Your mind is racing. You don’t know what’s happening. You don’t know who’s telling the truth. All you know right now is that Jake seems earnest and Bradley seems angry and the truth is lying somewhere between them in no-man’s-land. 

“You know damn well Paul is dead,” Bradley sneers. You see it--Jake’s shock. Thoroughly, in your bones, you can tell that no, Jake did not know that. Your spine tingles. “You fucking killed him! And you cut Mable, didn’t you? Snuck out while Gale was sleeping, right? You coward.” 

Swallowing hard, Jake looks at you. His face is very serious, very anguished. 

Oh, come on, angel

Come on, come on, darlin'

“Don’t let him confuse you,” Jake begs. He’s desperate, shaking his head at you. “I’m still me. I’d never--you know that I’d never--!” 

“--You’re sick,” Bradley screams. His voice booms, drowns out the music. “You’re worshiping the same twisted demon Gwyar did, aren’t you? Or is it that--that you’re worshiping Gwyar? Him and his fucking ax and his sick fucking game! Feeding on everyone’s fear, scaring the tar out of everyone! Or is it that you’re cutting down anyone that gets too close to Gale? Huh? Is that it? You sick fuck!” 

Furrowing his brows, Jake looks at you. And you know that he doesn’t know what Bradley is talking about at all. 

You’re getting lightheaded. 

“Gale,” Jake whispers. It’s a desperate, desperate plea. “Get away from him, baby. Please, please, please. I won’t even--I won’t even touch you. Just get away from him. Point the gun at him.”

And here it is: you’re getting ripped apart. You didn’t even make it to the end of summer. 

But then Jake is falling to his knees, sobs tearing him to bits, looking up at you like a depraved and despaired. It’s horrific--having Jake there before you.  

“If you’ve ever done anything in your life, listen to me right now,” Jake sobs. “Please, Gale--get the fuck away from him. I’m not the killer, baby--Bradley is. You’re not safe!”

Your fingers are shaking. 

And if I only could

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places

“Enough,” you try. “Please, Jake--Bradley! Just stop!” 

Head swarmed, you look at Jake with wide eyes. 

“Maybe you’re possessed,” Bradley says, laughing humorlessly. “Maybe you couldn’t help yourself. You were drawn to it…you found the ax ‘cause it called for you, didn’t it?” 

Bradley’s chest is hot with rage. He wants to get Jake away from you--now.

And then Jake isn’t just on his knees before you, he’s throwing himself forward and against your legs. But your feet are planted so firmly that you don’t shake, you don’t fall. He isn’t trying to knock you over--he’s just hugging himself against your thighs, burying his face in the bottom of your belly and looking up at you. 

“I’d never hurt anyone,” Jake pleads with you. “You know that…baby, you know that. I don’t even know what he’s talking about! I don’t know who Gwyar is! I’m so confused…Gale, please…we have to get away from him!” 

“Get the fuck away from--!” 

“Stop!” You cry desperately. Jake is holding you so tight that you can’t breathe. “Stop it!” 

But they’re not listening to you. 

I'd be runnin' up that road

Be runnin' up that hill

“It isn’t me!” Jake sobs. “We have to get away from here!” 

“You fuck,” Bradley continues. “It took your blood! It wanted you! Sliced your hand when you were chopping that tree down!” 

The song ends. 

Your hearing goes out--fuzzy and fading. Every muscle beneath your sizzling skin is locked in place. A noose of fear wraps itself around your neck and tightens, tightens until you cannot breathe at all. Your lungs are stunted at a deep exhale. And you can’t close your eyes for even a millisecond to blink. Sulfur floods your nostrils--abundantly clear and thick in the air.

Jake stares up at you, horrified. He watches, in real time, as the realization dawns on you.

He was telling the truth. Bradley is the killer. 

“Bradley…” you whisper, voice quivering. Just barely, you turn your head. And Bradley is behind you, still looking like himself but ugly with rage and red with anger. “You cut your hand on the ax.” 

At first, his face contorts in confusion. He stutters, mouth parted. Brows furrowed, he attempts to say something. But his tongue is dry. But when he sees the fear in your eyes and hears Jake’s sobs, he knows the jig is up. He just gave himself away. 

You watch, in utter terror, as his face drops completely. And for the first time, as you stare at him, you see it: the pure, unadulterated evil. It’s there in the black in his pupils. The flecks of gold in his amber eyes are faded, gone. His smile is wide and broad, but it isn’t the smile you saw at the beginning of the summer. It is wicked--dry and nefarious. 

“Damn,” he says, sighing. He beams at you wickedly. So wicked that your arms go limp, the gun falling onto the floor. Good. He’s got you where he wants you. “I was doing so well, too.”

Lips open wide in shock, two stray tears fall down your face. 

And it is not a moment later that he brings the ax down.

Jake, with all the gall and gumption of the soldier his father wanted him to be, acts fast. So fast that he doesn’t even think--he just does.

“Gale!”

Closing your eyes, you accept it at once. You will die at the hand of Bradley--he’s killing you and you don’t know why other than he’s sick. And you’re already covered in blood, you already saw two dead bodies today. People are dying. You’re going to be another one to add to the pile. Your body will be covered with a sheet and your father will identify you with tears in his eyes and he will wonder why and you will die not knowing why. 

When you hit the ground, head slamming against the hardwood floors and neck cracking, you’re waiting for the pain to come. The first hit, the first hack. You’re waiting for release. 

But instead, you just feel heavy--something is brushing your nose because it is so close to you. And when you open your eyes, you’re staring into Jake’s. His eyes are wide in shock, his mouth, too. 

For a moment, you’re not sure what’s happened. Then you hear the strangled moan he releases, the barely-there and quiet thing. A steady stream of blood floods out from his parted lips and into your mouth. 

“Jake?” You whimper, terror flooding your body until you’re cold with it. 

And he’s so heavy on top of you and so warm--deadweight. And the warmth, it isn’t just his body heat. No, no…it is a wet and slick warmth. It is his blood that is leaking from his body and onto yours. 

Choking out a sob, your spit red with his blood spewing onto his face, you try desperately to move your arms. He has you pinned--and he’s so heavy that you can’t move. 

“My, my, my…” Bradley laughs. He leans down, wraps his hands around the handle of the ax and steadies himself by pressing his foot on Jake’s back, and rips the ax from his back. Jake coughs--blood spews across your face and you whimper aloud, stunned. Bradley totes the ax over his shoulder like it is as friendly and unassuming as his guitar. “Sacrificing his life. Now, that’s love, huh?” 

Jake can’t feel anything. Not the gash on his back or the blood he’s losing. He can’t feel your body beneath him or the sobs ripping through your shocked form. He can’t feel any of it. He’s just looking at your face, his mouth wide open and gaping, and praying that Bradley will go. 

“Jake,” you sob again. You can’t breathe. You can’t move. “Jake! Jake!” 

If Jake could speak, he’d tell you that he loves you and that he’s sorry he can’t do more. But he can’t, so he just slowly lowers his head until it falls into your neck. He stops moving.

Bradley watches from above you. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, sighs deeply. It feels good to be out in the open like this--no more lying, no more sneaking around. Just him, just you, just Jake. And he’s about to finish off the two of you and head to the bus barn. He’ll finish what was started thirty years ago--almost to the date, that sly dog. 

“Jake,” you keep whispering, shocked, stunned, horrified. Your body vibrates with panic. You don’t care about Bradley hovering over you. You care about Jake and the way his green eyes are losing the color, the way his cheeks are becoming pale. He can do nothing but stare at you, his vision beginning to blacken around the edges. “Jake, I…” 

And then Bradley kicks the shotgun--it slides across the floor and clatters against the wall. As if you weren’t already defenseless. You look up, quivering, and Bradley grins down at you. 

“I’m more of an ax guy myself,” he says, smiling. He leans down, settling the ax beside him. And then he strokes your hair back from your face, relishing in the horror that crosses your features. “Don’t wig out yet, baby. Let’s chat before I book it to the bus barn, huh? I can spare a few minutes for my best girl.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

BOB BE LIKE:

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒:

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[az-cain]

Request- I HAVE A REQUESTTT, you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to: (grumpy x sunshine with Jake); reader leaves little notes around the house as a reminder for Jake to be nice or to be careful or something like that, he never responds but one time she cooked one of his favourite dishes when he had a bad day before going to bed and she leaves a note and he responds before leaving the next day? Thank you so much💕💕💕

jake seresin x reader ≈ 1000 words masterlist

I LOVED THIS REQUEST TYSM FOR THIS

TW FOR: G-LOC, gravity-induced loss of consciousness, fear of loss, poor communication of sorts

The little habit began with a New Year’s Resolution to be more appreciative of those you love. It was a cheap purchase, that pad of Post-Its, but the notes you gave him every morning were the highlight of his day. He left too early for you to wake for more than a simple peck on the lips and an “I love you.”

Once, it was a quick sentence about how you wished he’d have a good day and you’d be waiting to see him when he got home. All day, he was so excited to see you that he forgot to be an asshole. Phoenix and Bob separately texted you their thanks.

The next, it was a smiley face and an “I love you so much,” written in all capitals and followed by too many exclamation points. The dopey smile stayed on his face for several hours, his words less aggressive and his voice softened. Again, Phoenix and Bob texted you their thanks, this time followed by Rooster.

The little tradition continued on for weeks, everyone eventually ceasing to thank you because they realized that Hangman was slowly becoming just Jake, calming down a bit, and it was getting tedious to text every day.

About six weeks later, Jake walked solemnly through the door two hours before he usually did, eyes cast down to your floorboards, and sighed heavily as he kicked off his boots. Emerging from the kitchen, you saw the way his shoulders sagged and immediately started towards him. “Jake?” You whispered, reaching a hand out to pull his chin up, the skin oddly dewey. You gasped when you saw tears streaking down his cheeks. “Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” You wrapped your arms around him.

He sobbed quietly into your shoulder, his own arms hanging limp at his sides as he bent down to reach your level.

Off-put by his lack of response, you began to pull away, but his arms shot up to hold you and he yelped a “No!” as though you’d stabbed him.

“Okay, okay, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” You soothed, petting his hair as his tears wet your shoulder. You pressed the bottom of your wedding ring against his neck, the familiar metal soothing him as his heaving chest turned to hiccups.

It was a few more minutes before he spoke. “I went into G-LOC today.”

You felt your body lock up and you began to shake, arms clenching tighter around him. “You made it,” you murmured, reassuring both of you.

“I did. You know G-LOC dreams— vivid. Mine was you.” He sighed, burrowing down against you, “As my plane went down and I woke up, I kept thinking I wouldn’t get to see you again.”

“I’m here. You’re here. God, I love you, Jake.”

He nodded, whispering the words back as though you’d scare away, before he pulled back and wiped his eyes. “Sorry your shirt’s all wet now.”

“Jake, you just went through G-LOC. I am more than happy to deal with a few tears on my shirt.” Taking the aforementioned shirt off and walking to toss it in the laundry room, you shouted, “Go hop in the shower, baby. I’m making fried chicken.”

He groaned his thanks loudly before lumbering up the stairs to reach your bedroom, where you assume he gathered his clothes before you heard the shower turn on.

When he emerged, hair wet and face clean of tears, you were scooping the last of the chicken onto a paper-towel covered plate wearing one of his clean shirts. You smiled at him before bending down to pull the fried potatoes out of the oven where they’d been staying warm. “You ready to eat?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you when you set the baking tray down on the stove.

“Why did they not call me?” You asked tentatively, meeting his eyes.

“I wanted to tell you myself. The squad have known for years not to contact you unless I’m seriously hurt.”

You nodded, smiling gently. “Alright.” A few minutes passed of the two of you just holding one another in a loose hug. “Read the apron,” you giggled, knowing he knew full well what it said. With a hum and a raise of his brows, he pulled back slightly to glance down. Meeting your eyes again, he smirked and placed his lips gently against yours.

“Thank you for dinner, darlin’.” You both pulled apart, you grabbing plates from the dishwasher while he picked up napkins from the counter. As you dished up your food, you always touched somehow. Your sides, your feet, you just wanted contact. The two of you parked it on the couch, facing one another, and ate quietly, just happy to be in each others’ presence.

The night came to an early close, the stress of the day making you both want to sleep at around eight.

As per usual, when you woke around midnight to use the restroom, you left him a note.

In the morning, he woke to find a full sheet of paper.

My love,

You are the light of my life. My one and only. Today, you’ll be very safe as you recover from yesterday’s events, or I’ll make sure our good Admiral Bobby puts you on desk duty. Yes, that’s a threat. You’ll also instruct your squad to let me know as soon as something goes wrong, or I’ll do it myself. I’m making navy bean soup tonight. I love you, Jake. <3

His eyes filled with tears as he scrambled for a pencil, a smile splitting his face. When he found one, he scribbled:

I love you so much. I can’t go another day without you having proof of that every single day. I don’t think that made sense but you know me, what I’m trying to say. And yes ma’am, they’ll know as soon as I reach base. Looking forward to that soup tonight <3 <3 <3

masterlist

[lahooozaherr]

I Will Always Find You

Chapter 6

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Canon typical violence (but not descriptive), anxiety, reader is lifted once because of Rising Phoenix, angst, yearning, as always please feel welcome to let me know if I missed anything 🫶🏻

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Chapter Summary: Din locates and rescues from your captors, just in time. With the two of you finally reunited, you quickly return to the Razorcrest where Din sets coordinates for the safe location provided by your father. You feel a wild mix of emotions over it all, from relief to fatigue. When it seems you’re about to tell him something very important, you make it to the planet of your childhood friend.

A/N: I’m back!! Kinda?? I’ve been here but I haven’t been in the headspace to write this. I’ve been processing a lot of grief. I know I shouldn’t apologize or beat myself up for taking so long so I just appreciate anyone who’s still interested in my little self indulgent story. There were times I tried to work on it but then I’d remember plot holes or things I haven’t quite figured out yet, so please bear with me. This chapter isn’t TOO exciting, mainly because this next one is going to be beefy, the one I’ve been really really working up to. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Song Inspo: Hero by Alan Walker & Sasha Alex Sloan

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Present Day

Some time had passed since you were blindfolded and binders were applied to your wrists. The anxiety made sleep elusive as you’d bounce between conscious and not.

Until the noises began.

You sat up abruptly, heart hammering in your chest as you listened to sounds of clashes, blaster fire and yelling from the men who had taken you. With no ability to act, or even see, you resort to bringing your legs up to your chest and balling yourself up in anticipation.

You wondered what could possibly be happening. Were you being saved? Was there a conflict amongst the men?

The commotion begins to die out, ending with the sound of one last shot from a blaster. You can now only hear the beat of your heart and your body begins to tremble. The environment grows eerily silent.

You gasp when you start to hear the door unlock and move open. Not knowing what to expect at this point had only added to the fear you felt flood through you. In a feeble attempt, you duck your head into your knees, holding yourself as close as you can with your bound arms.

You hear a voice speak your name, a voice you’ve become very familiar with. One that has haunted your memories.

The trembling in your body starts to cease as you raise your head to the voice, Din’s voice. Relief washes over you like a tidal wave.

The bed dips next to you as he removes the cloth from your eyes. You’re met with that same, emotionless visor you had come to yearn for. Words can’t describe the emotion beginning to seep out from you as tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Din?” You finally manage to respond in whisper, a tremble from your bottom lip.

He removes the binders, a tool he’s very familiar with in his profession. He finds himself mentally cursing them for having to remove them from someone like you.

Before he can set them down, you’ve catapulted yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. A sob escapes your chest in relief, a feeling you’ve been deprived of for too long.

It catches him in surprise but doesn’t take long for him to settle into it, embracing you in return. His large, gloved hands cover your back. Relief at finding you meets him as well.

“Are you hurt?” His baritone voice rings in your ear, your rapid heartbeat skips as the fear melts into joy. When you pull back from his embrace to face him, you shake your head ‘no’. “Good.”

As the tears start to bubble over, you give him a weak smile, “you found me.”

He doesn’t hesitate to take your face in his hands, looking you in the eyes, “I will always find you.”

You lean into one of his palms, his touch feels so warm and safe.

“We have to get out of here,” he leans back to assess you, still in the simple outfit of leggings and long sleeve top you were taken in. But no shoes. They must have gotten rid of them.

“Alright, I’m going to carry you,” you nod in response, he stands from the bed and leans over to slip his arms under your back and legs. When he lifts you, it feels almost effortless from him. He’s really as strong as he looks.

With your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, he quickly leaves the room and weaves through the halls of the building until he reaches an exit, bursting through to the outside by slamming his foot against the door.

He comes to a halt, adjusting his arm under you to reach his vambrace. You feel him press some of the controls on it.

“Alright, I need you to hold on tight, ok?”

You do as you’re told but raise an eyebrow at him, “alright bu-“

Before you can even finish your question, the Rising Phoenix on his back ignites and sends both of you into the sky. A yelp escapes you and you grip even tighter to him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. You can feel his hands press into you where he’s holding you, giving you a reassuring squeeze that his grip is firm and safe on you.

When the direction feels more steady, you pry yourself from him to try and look down. Your curiosity gets the best of you although this height is….pretty scary. Underneath you is a forest, which is about as much as you can make out. You have no idea where they took you but you can see why, it seems lifeless and easy to hide out in.

Din comes to a landing in front of the Razer Crest, coming to a running stop. He shifts his hands under you to press onto his vambrace and the ramp starts to lower. When he brings you inside, he gently sets you down to sit next to some crates.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back. I’m going to get us out of here real quick.”

He leaves, climbing the ladder to the cockpit and disappears. Shortly after you feel the Razor Crest start up and lift. After some time and feeling the way he steers, you feel him kick it into hyperspace, and then silence.

You close your eyes, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath after feeling like you had been holding it in this entire time. You press your back into the wall behind you and try to finally relax. Footsteps come down the ladder and towards you, you open your eyes to find Din crouched down in front of you.

You let the silence linger between the two of you for a few minutes, taking the time to process the chaos that just happened in such a short amount of time. You realize Din has truly earned his reputation for a reason.

“Take your time,” he reassures you. “Your father sent coordinates to a safe place. It should only be 12 hours, give or take.”

Your eyes widen as you remember your father. He must have been worried sick.

“Where is he? My father?”

Din takes a long minute to respond, “I’m not sure. The call he sent to Karga’s location didn’t specify where, just that he would be going into hiding.”

The information bounces around your head for a minute before you give a silent nod in acknowledgment.

“Do you know where he could be?” Din asks.

“I don’t. I’m embarrassed to say, but we hadn’t discussed this beforehand. I’d hope it’s wherever he’s sending us.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Din stands and offers you a hand and lifts you up. “In the meantime, you should rest.”

He opens an enclosed space where his bunk is, which is really just a simple tarp material stretched across to make a cot. But that doesn’t entirely matter to you right now. You feel safe and finally able to breathe. You welcome the ability to lay somewhere that isn’t that horrible place you’d been kept in. You take note of the small hammock that hangs at the top of it.

You crawl inside and turn back to him as you settle in. Din reaches behind his neck and detaches his cape, and hands it to you.

“It’s not much, I’m sorry. I don’t….really ever think to have something like blankets around here.”

You cover yourself in the thick material, it’s warm and softer than it looks save for the burnt holes towards the bottom, “don’t be sorry, this is perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the cockpit if you need me.”

He closes the bunk and you listen as you hear his boots step up the ladder and disappear once again.

You don’t really have time to miss him before fatigue really sets in as you lay down. You wrap his cape around you, cocooning yourself inside of it. The part that attaches to his neck smells like him and you can’t help but breathe it in. He smells like soap and blaster smoke, it’s oddly comforting.

—————————————————————————

You wake up suddenly, gasping for air and full of adrenaline. This isn’t your first time doing this, though. Ever since you’d been kidnapped, you had been suffering from nightmares. You don’t always remember what happens in them, but next thing you knew, you would be sitting upright from the bed trying to catch your breath.

You pull Din’s cape around your shoulders and grip tightly, holding yourself tightly in order to ground yourself. You remind yourself that you’re safe. You’re in Din’s….bunk. Bed?

After a moment of attempting to calm yourself, you’ve decided to give up on sleep for now. You find your way out of the enclosed bunk, making sure to secure his cape around you. The floor of the ship is cold on your feet. You take in your surroundings, observing the way he keeps his space. It seems it’s kept very neat and methodical, very him.

Ascending the ladder to the cockpit, the door slides open as you stand to enter. He’s in his seat, set in the middle. The only light comes from the streaks of stars and hyperspace across the overhead windows and it reflects off of his helmet.

He doesn’t immediately react to your presence in his space, you wonder if he’s asleep. You opt to sit in a passenger chair to the right of him, noticing his arms crossed and his body slightly leaned back.

“How did you sleep?” His low voice rings through the modulator, almost startling you. He swivels his captain’s chair to face you. You hold yourself tighter, keeping his cape stretched across.

“Uh, yeah, sorta. I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

You look up above to watch through the windows, “I kind of wish I had come up here. This is soothing.”

Din’s helmet tilts up to look as well, “it is. I almost prefer to sleep up here. Sometimes.”

Something in the air makes you feel like something isn’t being said. It’s hard to put your finger on it. You know there are many things you’d like to say to him, now that you feel more collected. But that same creeping fear from before seems to stop you. You don’t want to ruin this, or any moment with him.

“I need to ask you something, and it’s ok if you don’t want to answer right now. Or ever. I just-“ Din, of all people, is stumbling over his words. Something you’re not used to seeing him do at all. But the tension in the small space seems to thicken around the two of you. When he lowers his helm to face you, you aim to meet his eyes to give him a reassuring look to continue.

“Did they….do anything to you? Did they hurt you at all? Or…”

“Oh…Oh! No. Sort of?” Butterflies swirl in your stomach while you struggle to find words. “Not exactly, I think they were specifically told to not harm me. At least physically. That’s the impression I got.”

You hear the leather of Din’s glove start to rub against his arm rests, “physically?”

“Right. They didn’t hurt me like that. But I’d say it’s pretty psychologically harmful to lock someone up in a room for a week after kidnapping them.”

You hear the creak of his gloves and you watch as one of his hands fists into a ball while the other rubs against the side of the arm rest.

“I should have insisted on staying, to escort you back home,” he asserts in a low, bordering dangerous tone.

Without thought, you reach out a hand to close over his fisted one, “no, don’t do that to yourself.” His tight shoulders seem to visibly loosen up as you do so.

“Please don’t. I just-“ your voice starts to crack. Your eyes turn glassy and you turn your head, breaking the eye contact you felt you had with him.

Din takes no time reading your body language and he moves to kneel on one knee in front of you, resting both hands on your lap. Tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes and threaten to spill.

“What is it? Please tell me,” Din tries to console you, it’s almost jarring how quickly he can switch from being dangerous to soothing. His large hands engulf yours in both of his, feeling warm and secure.

You didn’t intend to go quiet, it’s just that your emotions threaten to allow everything within you to spill out. Something you’ve inadvertently trained yourself to be afraid of. Every time your mouth begins to mouth what you want to say, you feel your heart squeeze and single tears come forward.

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” you finally mustered to say. “I’m ashamed.”

“Ashamed?!”

“Yes. It’s ridiculous, I know. But before you’d found me, I had given up. I couldn’t fight. I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there,” you pause when you feel one of his hands cup your cheek and redirect your gaze to his, or at least his visor. Your heart jumps into your throat, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his thumb begins to stroke where it lays on your cheek. Before you can debate on what more to say, a beeping comes over the intercom of the ship.

The ship exits hyperspace and comes to a standstill. Din, with a gentle last caress of your face, quickly moves back to position in his seat. The beeping comeson again as he grabs a hold of the controls and a voice comes over the intercom.

“Razorcrest, you have permission to land.”

Confusion etches into your features as you watch him, his hand is paused above a button. One you think he was about to use to speak back. But now there was no need, whoever it is already knew who he was and definitely expecting him. He withdraws his hand and gets back to his steering controls, “buckle up.”

You do as you're told, fasten your seatbelt and sit back. You feel the ship begin to descend into a planet’s atmosphere. A familiar looking planet.

—————————————————————————

“Sir, she’s nowhere to be found.”

Large boots crunch through the broken glass and debris that’s scattered across the floor. Accompanied by the few bodies of henchmen. The boots belong to a tall, intimidating figure. A scarred and hardened looking Twi’lek, with a permanent scowl and scar across his mouth to match.

He turns to the man speaking to him, one of his many lackies, and growls, “what happened here?!”

“We have reason to believe the Mandalorian found her. All of this is his doing.”

The Twi’lek glowers at him before hitting his fist against the wall. He doesn’t speak, gritting his teeth as he contemplates his next words. His next move.

His demeanor slowly shifts to something more calm and collected as he seems to gather his thoughts. A twisted smirk revealing sharpened teeth emerges.

“We’re heading out. It’s time to send a message.”

@dindjarinsmut @impala1967666 @kittenlittle24 @angel-with-a-heart @leithatnight @i-usually-main-bards-tho @dins-riduur-anthe @fatima-marisa @lalalalemonade11 @n7cje @orcasoul

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

[twigg96]

Daryl X Reader

Spring Chicken

Time Frame: out of canon 10 years after the birth of Beau.

Warnings: Hot headed Daryl, Protective Dad Daryl,

Pronouns: She/Her, You

Summary: People can’t live without other humans. Phoenix now age 17 has discovered that the new boy can be much more interesting than just a simple friend. While you don’t mind, Daryl however is more skeptical until you have a serious talk with him.

It started off innocently enough but didn’t go unnoticed. The little glimmer in your daughter’s gorgeous blue eyes when she looked the new boy’s way. The way she batted them and poutted out her bottom lip as he teased her. The way she giggled and touched his arm so sweetly. You watched her follow the new boy around the camp like a lost puppy looking for attention, the boy more than happy to give it to her. The two stole sweet kisses amongst other things, hidden behind the trees of the forest, behind the backs of houses abandoned and not, and even in the darkness not doused by light covered by the warm light of the camp fire. You understood why your daughter did what she did. You had been a teenager once yourself. So you didn’t mind her first fling. However your husband had been blissfully oblivious to your daughter’s first crush up until now.

Daryl had just gotten back from a run around dinner time. Walking over with your 11 year old son Beau to meet him at the forest’s edge. Kissing Daryl sweetly you pulled one of the duffles bags from his shoulders. “Welcome back.” You hummed happily. Daryl’s warm chuckle resonated across your lips at the sound of your son’s over done disgust at your public display of affection. “That’s so gross!” Beau whined, kicking a pebble into the darkness and bushes of the forest. ��Yeah. Get used to it.” Your husband muttered, walking to your camp area to toss the bags down before joining the others at the fire. Phoenix hadn’t yet noticed either of your presences as the two of you approached hand in hand. She had been pressed close to the new boy, Todd, fingers intertwined, nuzzling his cheek and laying soft kisses along his jawline. You could have laughed at Daryl’s perplexed look, the rusted gears in his head slowly turning as he put two and two together. But you never had a chance to even open your mouth before Daryl’s demeanor changed drastically. “Phoenix!” He bellowed glaring daggers at the young couple. The two separated in an instant sending Todd crashing to the ground as he fell off of his log seat. You couldn’t help but jump at the abruptness of your husband’s voice. Silence fell across the camp ground. Daryl’s anger felt palpable. “What the hell do ya think yer doin?!” Daryl growled, stepping towards Phoenix and Todd. “Daddy!” Your daughter gasped in surprise. Standing from her place her surprise melted into justified embarrassment and anger as Daryl spoke. “Don’t you Daddy me! Kissin’ all up on that boy like that! Like some kind of hussy! We don’t even know ‘im! I want you to stay the hell away from that boy.” Shock rolled though you and you could help but to stare in disbelief at your husband’s words. Once again before you could even breathe your daughter cut in. This time with rattling sobs. “God you are such a prick sometimes!” She screamed swiping at the tears that rolled down her cheeks with the heal of her palm. “I’m seventeen now! I can date if I want to! Hell! You and Momma were engaged by my age! You had me when you were nineteen! So you can’t fuckin’ say shit about my relationship! I love him daddy!” Daryl was fuming. His whole face was beat red as he glared at the forest floor, his hands shook at his sides, and his breath hitched as he presumably but his own tongue keeping whatever biting words he was thinking back behind his teeth. “You’re fuckin’ grounded.” He growled lowly turning his gaze to the frightened boy who scrambled to stand beside your daughter. “And you… get your shit and leave.” Phoenix shook her head a pleading look in her face as she stepped forward to only to be turned away. “Daddy please-“ she begged, cut off by Daryl’s harsh look. As Daryl opened his mouth to retort you stepped between them. “Enough. Both of ya.” You growled, looking sharply between the two of them. “Daryl. You said more than your fair share. Phoenix… I want you to apologize to your father. Now. Finish your dinner then you’re to watch your brother until we come back.” You muttered softly attempting to meet her soft blue eyes. Phoenix blinked away harsh tears, refusing to meet your gaze as she glared to the ground shuffling her feet. With a deflated sigh she resigned herself, glancing up at Daryl and muttering a soft apology. “Good. Stay in the camp. You’re father and I need to have a talk.” You said firmly, looking pointedly to Daryl then your son. “Go with your sister.” You whispered softly watching him nod and scurry to Phoenix’s side. “Todd…” you muttered lowly looking to the teen. “Just… keep away from our girl for right now.” You warned.

Following your husband as close as you could from behind you jogged to catch up. “Daryl Dixon!” You hissed, desperate to catch his attention, glaring at the wings on his back as he walked away. He stopped abruptly at the line where the forest met your little camp and you couldn’t help but bump into him feeling your chest hit his back making you stumble to catch yourself. Daryl’s soft hand wrapped around your wrist to catch you before he began to anxiously pace the bounds of your safe haven. Even in the midst of an argument, he was ever the gentleman. “You know ‘bout that?” He growled softly, sending you that look. That look that wasn’t exactly a glare but told you he was suspicious and a little pissed off. “I did… I just didn’t know it was so serious.” You muttered softly. Daryl grunted running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t ya tell me it was goin’ on?” Daryl growled again stopping in his tracks long enough to eye you. “Well, I didn’t think you needed to be told.” You bit back. “Besides,” you whispered, stepping towards Daryl. “I thought you were at least a little aware of it.” Daryl hummed his gaze still hard on you as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “‘Course I didn’t know ‘bout it. Would ‘a stopped it sooner.” He muttered much softer than before. A soft smile graced your lips as Daryl’s arms wrapped around your body as if on instinct, his hand combing through your hair softly as he thought staring off towards the fire. Kissing his cheek you hummed. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on her?” You whispered giggling at the perplexed look your husband sent your way. “What are you on about, woman? You saw the way they were clinging on each other.” He murmured. You could feel his muscles tense at the thought. But you couldn’t help but laugh again catching his curious eye. “Daryl Dixon, you know full well we were doing much worse than a little cuddlin’ and kissin’ back when we were seventeen.” You teased, pinching your husband’s ass where you had left a horrible stick and poke tattoo the day you both drank enough of his father’s moonshine to kill a horse. Daryl jumped nearly a foot in the air swatting your hand away, his blush deeply visible despite the darkness of the night. “Shut up.” He muttered. But the smirk playing on his lips proved that he was thinking of similar risqué memories. “I know we weren’t… great kids Y/N.” He whispered, pulling you close his chest and laying a loving kiss to the top of your head. “I just don’t want our kids to make any of the same mistakes we did. Especially when it’s so fuckin’ dangerous now’a’days. I mean. What if she had gotten pregnant, Y/N? Wha’ would we do then?” He asked his voice shaking with emotion and vulnerability. Holding him tight you kissed his jaw. “We’d make due, Daryl. We’d become grandparents and make due.” You giggled at the groan Daryl made as he squeezed you tighter. “Yeah… well I ain’t gonna be no grandpa any time soon. I’m too young for that shit.” He muttered into your hair. You smiled humming as you slid your hands beneath Daryl’s t-shirt feeling his chest beneath your fingers. “Yeah… You’re no spring chicken but you’re definitely not a Grandpa either.” You teased. “Oh, ya think so?” Daryl muttered, a bit of a lustful challenge in his voice. Giggling Daryl pulled you deeper into the forest to show you just how much he could still do.

[trashbag-baby666]

Heart Of Glass-Rooster Bradshaw

Chapter Six

WC: 727.

C/W: Angst.

HOG Masterlist!

Mazy and Phoenix had been discharged. Payback had taken Phoenix back to her apartment to stay with her and keep an eye on her. They had canceled training for the day again.

Mazy chewed her lip nervously as they road in the Bronco home. She glanced at Rooster, she felt so unbelievably guilty about yesterday.

"I'm really sorry Bradley," Mazy spoke up.

"You have nothing to be sorry for darlin'" Bradley reached over and rested his hand on her leg.

"You should never feel that kind of pain and worry like you did yesterday." Mazy sniffed looking over at her beloved Bradley.

"Mazy," Bradley breathed out as they pulled into the driveway and he put the Bronco in park and looked at her. The dark haired girl kept her gaze forward and not to break it.

"I have a headache come on let's just go lay down." She sighed getting out and grabbing her bag stomping inside. Bradley sat there for a moment, he understood how she was feeling. She had scared the shit out of him yesterday when that happened but accidents happened.

Sometimes they were deadly. Sometimes they ended in death.

Bradley let out a huff of defeat and shut the garage before following Mazy inside.

Bradley kicked off his shoes and set his keys and sunglasses on the island table and be lined it for the bedroom.

Mazy had already changed into one of his old shirts and a pair of shorts. She was curled up in their big bed the pastel pink comforter nested around her pulled up to her neck. Her hair pulled into a messy bun and her gaze fixated on the wall ahead of her.

Coincidently enough the wall they filled with frames of them. Both of their naval academy graduation pictures, engagement pictures, one of them in a jet with the canopy open both with huge, stupid smiles on. Mazy back seated for Bradley for a little bit of time on a deployment once.

Bradley couldn't have crawled in the bed quicker than he did. He curled into her letting her be the little spoon.

They just laid there together until she was ready to talk. Something Bradley was quick to learn was how stubborn the Mitchell's were. Just like her dad Mazy would dig her heels into the ground and die on hill rather than tell anyone her emotions sometimes.

This time it was different, he could tell she wanted to talk but was trying to find her words.

He often couldn't find his words either leaving them both in comfortable silence rather than talking.

Bradley placed a delicate kiss on the bottom of her exposed neck his mustache ticking her.

"I'm sorry," Mazy rubbed her eyes.

"Hm?" Bradley hummed his eyebrows turning up.

"It was too close we shouldn't ever have it be like that. The way my Grandpa burned in leaving my dad, the accident with your dad, my moms cancer." Mazy just started spewing they both grew up surrounded by death it's all they ever knew. Sometimes Mazy just wished she'd never have gone out of her way to be with Bradley.

Don't get her wrong she absolutely loved him and would do anything for him.

But they were aviators and things happened, people died sometimes. So eventually one of them would burn in leaving the other.

"Mazy," Bradley repeated her name similar to the few times they had talked.

"One day I'm just gonna burn in and leave you alone with death once again." Mazy rambled.

"Mazy stop," Bradley rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Bradley you know it happens. Pilots lose wingman's and eventually." Bradley cut Mazy off by pressing his lips to hers. He didn't know what else to do. She kissed back instantly their soft lips locked in together.

Mazy sniffed as she felt hot tears stream down her face.

Bradley ran a hand through her hair as they pulled away. Mazy let out a sob her eyes closed the tears running down her pale skin. Bradley loved how in the California sun her freckles were far more visible.

Bradley held her face wiping her tears away.

“Mazy it’s okay,” Bradley gently cooed her.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed and opened her eyes up again staring into his big dark eyes.

“It’s okay, come here.” Bradley let her crawl into his lap as she curled into his chest.

Bradley wrapped his arms around her stroking her hair and holding her close with his other arm.

[iovchlde]

So I saw a glorious art of Kaeya where the artist hc’d that Kaeya has a patch of burnt skin from Diluc’s Phoenix years ago(maybe found on one of his shoulders to a side of his neck), can I request for a Hurt/comfort where his s/o finds him shirtless one day and finds the burned skin, instead of responding to his flirty remark, his s/o just approached him, and asked “this was from that time.. wasn’t it?”, like s/o knows and he knows they won’t spill but the memory is still so fresh and heartbreaking that his s/o saw him just crumble then and there and has nothing to offer but their company, patience, silence and love. This is so wordy and too detailed for me to spew during 8:30 am but I hope you enjoy making this anyways thank youuuuuu

a lingering touch.

in which kaeya shows a moment of vulnerability, as you lay a lingering touch on the scar that haunts him of his past.

pairing.

kaeya x gn!reader

genre.

hurt/comfort

author’s note.

BYE— WHEN I SAW THIS PROMPT I IMMEDIATELY SHOWED IT TO MY FRIEND JDSKDJSK i got so excited T^T

if you ever come across that art piece again, please do share 😩‼️ idk but this might just be my fav hc from now on. like can you imagine the emotional baggage that comes with getting a scar from someone that means a lot to you, especially in a moment of weakness— IMAGINE diluc seeing that scar years later...

kaeya would always have that same reaction when his hand would graze against that familiar patch of marred skin. his touch would linger for a second too long, trailing the edges of the scar, and a faint frown would tug at the corner of his lips. the scar isn’t something that’s noticeable at first glance; hidden away by the safety of his clothes, or covered by the hair that falls over his shoulder. but under the ridges of his fingertips, it’s easy to feel all the bumps and imperfections, and it’s easy to be reminded that it’s there.

in moments like these, it’s hard not to lose his train of thought, and just freeze in his spot. it’s almost reflex as his eyes would flutter shut, and it would seem like the feel of it stings— the scar itself does not, but the memory that floods in along with it does. as much as kaeya wished it wouldn’t, small flashes of memories loved to litter his mind and take over. it makes him lose his grounding in reality; it comes crashing in like waves, and no matter how much he stands back up, he’s toppled over by another.

“kaeya?” a soundless gasp leaves his lips, and he’s harshly tugged back into reality at the sound of your voice. it’s quiet and questioning, and it’s easy to hear the concerned lilt in your words. he snaps his head towards you quickly, his hands subtly flipping his hair to cover his shoulder, but he knew. you saw it, and it was obvious from the way your eyes didn’t meet his and stayed on his bare skin.

and so he takes his chance to play it off, his small tactic to keep his walls built up.

“take a picture, it lasts longer.” comes his words, coquettish and flirty by nature. as quickly as his vulnerability had peaked through, a small sliver showing itself to you, it was quickly masked away by his flirty facade; teasing smirk with a playful glint in his eyes. “sweetheart?”

you stay silent, with your lips pressed tight into a line, and fists clenching slightly at your sides.

you already knew that this had something to do with diluc, and that he and diluc had some history. though not disclosed in detail, it was easy to tell from the way the atmosphere would thicken into suffocating clouds whenever they were in the same room. more often than not, sharp words with hidden meanings would be exchanged, and their glares were one not too friendly. they weren’t subtle in expressing their differences, not in the least.

but kaeya never really said why— there was always a falter in his breath whenever it was brought up, and it would quickly be sweeped away by a different topic. you weren’t oblivious to social cues, and you knew that it was something he didn’t want to talk about. with respect to his privacy, you never really pried much into that matter.

there’s a moment of strained silence shared between the two of you as you rack your minds on things to say, and you both fall empty-handed. “i guess there’s no beating around the bush this time,” he finally breaks the silence, pushing a hand through his hair as he sighs. from behind his eyelashes, he peers at you, and you’re staring right back at him “you saw it, didn’t you?”

“yeah, i did.” you admit, chewing at your bottom lip with the flesh captured between your teeth. your lips open as if to speak, but there’s hesitance behind your actions. truth to be told, you didn’t know how to go about this situation. there wasn’t really a time where you’d been put in a place where you were blatantly exposed to something of his past— as much as you were curious. now given the chance to ask more, you didn’t know what to say, and your mouth ran dry with words.

you saw the way he looked when you’d first entered the room. he looked defenseless and impuissant as he seemed lost in his thoughts, and a part of you immediately understood that this was something more than just a battle scar. “this is from the time… isn’t it?”

there’s a beat of silence before he answers.

“yeah,” comes his short answer. it’s a fresh memory, despite happening so many years back. the emotions in the heat of the moment and the pain that seared his skin was ingrained in his memory, etched so deeply. he was yet to overcome it, yet to gather the strength to tell the story without his voice betraying him. “but it’s not something i wish to talk about, right now,” he mutters truthfully.

kaeya didn’t even want to cry today.

“do you want me to give you some space?” you ask, preparing to make your way towards the door. but his hand keeps you in place, tugging at your wrist to stop you from moving. as he looks at you, you can see the raw emotion swirling in his eye. they’re pleading and unguarded—

“don’t go.” he butts in.

—and his walls he’d built up had crashed and burned.

with silent understanding, you turn your back to him with a knowing look, your face pointed straight forward as you stare up ahead at the wall. “you can hold me,” you say, giving him the silent and subtle cue. with hesitant movements, he wraps himself around you, pressing tight against the warmth of your body. “tell me what i can do to help.”

he didn’t feel like crying today— he wasn’t counting on it. he was content with simply staying in your arms until he felt better.

but it’s always the most simple words that had lumps forming in his throat; it catches him off-guard, and makes it feel as if his tears are threatening to swallow him whole. that feeling pricked at kaeya, and he hated the way his body reacted so much to your words. no matter how hard he clenched his jaw, or how much he batted his eyes to suppress the tears, his own body was starting to betray him.

so kaeya presses his face against your back, the crown of his forehead leaning against your shoulder, and his hold on you is firm. “please stay with me,” he mumbles softly, fingers digging into your waist as he brings you closer, with the fabric tightening where his hands ball into small fists. it’s hard to ignore the desperation in his voice, and the way his body shakes slightly with every word, mere seconds away from crumbling against you. “stay with me, like this. that’s all i ask.”

“i’m always here to stay,” you reassure, all while bringing a hand to brush your fingers through his locks. he doesn’t know what it is, but at your words, he breaks; the tears that constantly pricked at his eyes begin to pour out and silent sobs escape past his lips. the feeling of years of pent up frustration, anger, confusion and hurt— they all narrowed down into this one moment of vulnerability. once the tears start falling, it’s hard to stop the rest, and all he could do was cry into your shoulder.

you two stand in the middle of the room for god knows how long, your legs turning numb from standing— yet, oddly enough, it’s comforting. your head is tilted back, leaning into the warmth of kaeya, leaning into his touch that so desperately clings onto you. for things like these, you knew that this wouldn’t be enough to attenuate something as big as the burden he carries on his shoulders. you don’t know how long it’s been building up, and you don’t know how much he’s kept in, but you’re willing to help.

crying is an easy way to alleviate the pressure that builds up in the moment, but crying is an easy way to lift the heavy weight from your chest. as he pours out his heart, his tears staining the back of your clothes, he feels safe. he feels safe from the way you lean into him, and the way you hum a familiar tune that he likes, or the way you press feather-like touches as your fingers run down his arm.

“let it all out, kaeya. it’s okay.” you hum, and you lay a warm hand against his that lay on your side. you squeeze it reassuringly, lacing your fingers in with his and holding it up to your lips, pressing a chaste kiss against his skin. “i’ll wait with you— however long it takes to heal.”

with scars that take time to heal, you were willing to give him all the patience and love he needed along the way, and he’s forever thankful.

[dragonfly0808]

if possible since you're doing requests, could you do a oneshot or small drabble on the mirta/flora breakup?? Specifically based off of Chapter 11 of The Blight of The Phoenix where flora is talking about how it wasn't a normal break up and she got thrown to the side.

Flora opened the door with a huge smile on her face, “Hey, you ready?”

To say that she was excited would have been an understatement.

She and Mirta had spent almost all summer together, but she’d had to leave for two weeks to go to Magix.

But now she was back and Flora had prepared a picnic.

They walked down the dirt path and climbed on a giant ladybug, the ladybug carrying them to a small hill.

She laid a blanket on the ground, looking up to see Mirta clenching her hands together.

“What’s wrong?” She asked as she opened the basket, “You’re being a bit quiet.”

She took out the lemonade pitcher, thankful none of it had spilled.

Mirta sat down slowly, that was when she noticed the disgraced look on her face.

Flora reached out, taking her hand, “Hey what’s wrong? Did something happen in Magix?”

“You could say that, Flora… this is so lovely but…” she trailed off, looking away.

“Mirta?”

Mirta’s eyes landed on their joined hands, Flora ran a thumb gently over her knuckles.

Mirta sighed heavily, “Flora… back in Magix… I ran into Lucy.”

“Okay… is she alright? Did something happen to her?”

“No.” Mirta closed her eyes, shaking her head, “We- we were talking for a while, hanging out and we just… I…”

Flora’s grasp on Mirta’s hand weakened, her heat dropping to the pit of her stomach, her mind going to all kinds of places.

“Mirta?”

Mirta was looking at her shoulder, refusing to look her in the eye, “Flora… I’m going back to Magix and… I want to get back together with Lucy.”

Flora dropped her hand, tears filling her eyes, “Wait… what?”

“I’m so sorry Flora. I swear I didn’t intend for any of this to happen, the last thing I wanted was to hurt you but things just happened and- I’m so sorry.”

“So you’re just… you’re- you’re dumping me? And- and you’re just up and leaving?”

Mirta also had tears in her eyes, “I am so sorry Flora. You don’t deserve this-“

“You’re right I don’t. What the fuck? You were gone for two weeks.”

“It just happened. I’m so sor-“

“Stop saying you’re sorry.”

She couldn’t stay there, there wasn’t enough air.

Flora struggled to her feet, telling Mirta to stay down when she went to follow her.

She stumbled her way down the small hill, tears falling down her cheeks, sobs slipping through her lips.

Once she made it to the bottom, she just ran.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Honey, Flowers and Pinky Promises - Fred Weasley

Title: Honey, Flowers and Pinky Promises Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred denies himself the one thing he wants most in life, a future with Y/N, to keep her safe. So, what’s he to do 5 years later when she reappears in his life, safe from harm and with their future together already started. A/N: For the anon who wanted Fred breaking up with the reader before he leaves school, only to find out she gave birth to his kids a few years later! This was actually a very cute idea and very fun to write! As always feedback is appreciated and requests are open!!

tag list: @pandaxnienke​ @feltondarling​ (send a message if you'd like to be added!)

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“Everything is all set,” George says quietly as he takes a seat next to Fred at dinner. “I figured out where our brooms are, and I found the spell we’ll need to get them out of the enchantments Umbridge has them locked up with.”

Fred hums and nods absentmindedly, not really paying attention to what George is saying. He’s too busy watching Y/N. She’s sitting a few seats away with her friends, laughing at something one of them has said. Y/N looks absolutely gorgeous and carefree, and Fred’s heart pounds in his chest as he watches her.

“Everything all set on your end?” George asks, nudging Fred.

“Almost,” he responds. When George smacks him upside the head Fred finally turns to glare at him. “What the hell was that for?” he asks, rubbing at the spot George’s hand hit.

“I did all the hard stuff! All you had to do was pack the bags and set up the swamp for us to set off,” George scolds. “We leave tomorrow, Fred!”

Fred rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I was talking about git.” He turns in his seat so he can look at Y/N again. “Bags are set and so is the prank.”

“Oh,” George says softly, feeling stupid. He follows Fred’s gaze and frowns. “You haven’t told Y/N yet?”

“No,” he admits. “She’s not going to like what I have to say so I’ve been putting it off for a few days to get as much time with her as possible.”

“I thought Y/N supported the whole joke shop thing?” George asks, his confusion evident in his tone. “There’s only two months of school left, I can’t imagine she’ll be that mad.”

Fred bites his lip and tears his gaze away from Y/N so he can look at George. “It’s not the joke shop she’s going to be mad about.” Fred swallows thickly. “It’s the fact that I’m going to break up with her that’s going to upset her.”

“What?” George asks in shock as his eyes widen. “You’re joking right?” When Fred doesn’t move George hits him. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking,” Fred whispers, hanging his head. “It’s for the best.”

George nudges Fred so he’ll look up at him. “What do you mean? You’re madly in love with her and she’s madly in love with you, how can breaking up with her be a good thing?” George leans forward to whisper in Fred’s ear. “You’ve talked about marrying her, Fred. What changed?”  

“The world has changed, George,” Fred says suddenly, scaring his brother. “Percy disowning us, us joining the Order, our family being a target for You-Know-Who and the death eaters. I can’t bring her into that, I can’t risk her life like that.” Fred clenches his fist. “I love her too much to let her get hurt.”

“So, you’re going to break up with her, to keep her safe?” George asks, trying to understand Fred’s point of view.

“I know it seems weird but it’s the only way that I can keep her safe. Even if it kills me to do it,” Fred sighs. He lets himself look at Y/N again, and his heart breaks when she returns his gaze and smiles at him warmly.

“Freddie,” Y/N greets as she takes the last few steps down the staircase and into the common room. It’s well past midnight, and Fred had left Y/N a note to meet him downstairs. She moves over to him quickly and sits next to him on the couch. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you this week.”

Fred resists his urge to cuddle her close and leans in to kiss her briefly. “Sorry, love. Been busy doing stuff with George,” he lies. Truthfully Fred has been distancing himself from her over the past few days. He knows breaking up with her is for the best, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Y/N is like a drug to him, the more he’s around her the more he craves her touch and her presence. If he allowed himself to spend every waking moment with her like he desired he’d never get the nerve to end it.

“Joke shop stuff?” Y/N asks excitedly and when Fred nods she smiles at him. “I’m so proud of you, Freddie. You’re working so hard on all that stuff with George, and I just know you guys are going to make it big.”

“Thanks, love,” Fred says quietly, praying that his voice doesn’t crack. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, taking a deep breath in. She smells like honey and flowers and Fred thinks it’s the most comforting scent in the world. Normally it would make all the stress leave his body, but tonight it punches a hole in his chest.

Y/N pulls away from Fred and cups his cheek so she can make him look her in the eyes. “What’s wrong, Fred?” The use of his actual name knocks the air out of Fred’s lungs. He’s always Freddie to her, unless they’re talking about something serious. “You’re not acting like yourself. What’s going on?”

Fred moves away from Y/N further down the couch, and he puts his hand up to stop her from following him. “We need to talk about something.” He can feel tears forming in the back of his eyes and he blinks furiously, trying to keep them at bay. “We can’t, we can’t see each other anymore. Be together anymore.”

“What?” Y/N asks, her voice cracking. Tears spring to her eyes and start to slowly wander down her cheeks as confusion and sadness start to flow through her veins. At dinner just that evening Y/N had mentioned to her friends that she suspected Fred was going to propose after graduation, and just a few hours later he’s shattering her heart into a million pieces.

“I’m breaking up with you, Y/N,” Fred says clearer, his bottom lip trembling. “We’re done. Over with. I can’t be with you anymore.”

Y/N sobs and when she reaches out to grab Fred he stands up quickly. “Don’t do this Fred, please. I thought everything was okay with us. What went wrong? I can fix it Fred, please.” She wipes away some of her tears, but fresh ones just keep replacing them when she looks into Fred’s cold, emotionless face. “I love you Fred. Don’t you love me too?”

Fred closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at the pure heartbreak on Y/N’s face. He loves her more than life itself, and that’s why he has to do this. “I don’t love you anymore,” he says coldly, opening his eyes to look Y/N in hers. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, before turning around and heading up to his dorm, the echoes of Y/N’s sobs following behind him.

-

Y/N doesn’t think much of it when her period doesn’t arrive like it’s supposed to three days after Fred and George leave school. She just had her heart broken by the boy she thought would be her forever, so it makes sense to her when she misses it completely. And when she starts to feel lethargic and has random nausea spells in the following few weeks Y/N attributes it to stress; her chest still aches with the thought of Fred and NEWTS are coming up.

Y/N doesn’t start to panic that it may be something more until she misses another period. Her chest still feels empty without Fred, but she’s just graduated and she’s excited for her life to continue on. But the nausea is still there, and her ankles have started to swell, and she can’t help but notice that her boobs are sore pretty much all day every day. When she wakes up one morning and the smell of her mother cooking eggs sends her heaving into the toilet, Y/N can’t deny what she’s known deep down for weeks. She takes a test that afternoon and confirms her fears.

Pregnant.

Her parents are upset when she tells them the next day, and they urge her to send an owl to Fred immediately. By this point it’s no secret to anyone what Fred and George are up to, their joke shop has been open for weeks now and is the talk of the wizarding world. Y/N has often thought about heading to Diagon Alley to check up on Fred, but she always resists those urges. Fred was her first thought when she saw that little pink plus sign, but she can’t bring herself to tell him. Fred clearly didn’t want her to be a part of his future, and she’s not sure she’s ready to let him be a part of this future with her.

Y/N is 10 weeks along when her mother escorts her to her first doctors’ appointment, and to no one’s surprise its twins. Up until this point her parents had been adamant that she consider adoption as well, but as soon as the doctor announces its twins, Y/N’s decision to become a mother is solidified. These babies are going to be the perfect combination of her and Fred, her last connection to the boy she still loves.  

Y/N gets a job doing copywrite work for the daily prophet, and a hefty inheritance from her grandfather allows Y/N to move to a cute brownstone in London when she’s eight months pregnant. She avoids Diagon Alley like the plague, too afraid of running into Fred or George. Her family and friends try and convince her to reach out to Fred, and Y/N really does try. She has dozens of unsent letters in a box under her bed, dating all the way back to the day she found out she was pregnant. Y/N thinks about sending them often, but her stomach lurches each time she tries to.

She gives birth to a perfect, healthy baby boy and an equally perfect and healthy baby girl on a snowy day in December. Y/N names her son Phoenix, to match the fiery red hair that’s already sprouting out of his tender head. And she names her daughter Electra, to match her bright eyes and to remind Y/N that she and her brother are the light at the end of a very dark road. They both remind her so much of Fred, and it makes her journey into parenthood harder than she thought it would be.

The war is tough on everyone, but Y/N manages to survive it. It’s hard, raising two children alone during the darkest times anyone has seen, but it builds her confidence in her parenting abilities. She falls in love with herself and being a mother, and it only strengthens the bond she has with the twins. They’re without a doubt the best thing that has ever happened to her and watching them grow swells her chest with pride. In the blink of an eye the twins are 4, and the world Y/N had created for them suddenly comes crashing down.

-

“Damn,” Y/N mutters to herself as she examines the jar that usually holds Abraxan hair. “Forgot to get more.” She’s not the best at potion making, but she had found one in her youth that will temporarily change the color of your hair, and Electra had woken up that morning with the desire to turn her fiery red locks purple.

“Mummy said a bad word,” Phoenix teases, kicking his legs excitedly.

Y/N turns around and playfully rolls her eyes at the twins. They’re sitting at the table gobbling down pancakes as per usual. While they both sport the same red hair as their father, Phoenix is the spitting image of Fred, and it used to make Y/N’s heart ache. But it’s been almost 5 years since Fred broke her heart, and the pain no longer lingers. Electra takes after Y/N, her soft features and eyes nearly identical to her own. Unfortunately for Y/N they both inherited Fred’s love for pranks and jokes, and she finds herself collapsing into bed every night exhausted from the mischief they create.

“That’s because Mummy is allowed to say bad words,” Y/N teases. She puts out the fire beneath the cauldron she’d been brewing her potion in before taking a seat at the table with her kids. “We’re going to have to run into Diagon Alley after breakfast. I need to stock up on some things to make your potion, Ellie.”

“So, you can say shit, but we can’t?” Ellie pouts, putting her fork down.

“Hey!” Y/N says, trying not to laugh. “What did I just say? Bad words are for adults to use during the appropriate situation. They’re not for little kids to say at the breakfast table.”

“That’s so not fair,” Phoenix sighs, putting his fork down as well. “How old do we have to be to be adults?”

Y/N takes a sip of her coffee, shaking her head. “Older than 4 I can tell you that.”

“Five then?” Electra asks excitedly, her eyes lighting up.

Y/N gives both twins a look that makes them burst out into a fit of giggles. “Hurry up and finish your breakfast or we’ll never make it to Diagon Alley before it gets crowded.”

45 minutes later Y/N apparates into Diagon Alley, a twin holding each hand. Normally she avoids taking the twins with her whenever she needs to shop, fearful that Fred may be lurking around every corner. But she just needs to grab a few things, and it’s early enough that most of the stores are closed, and when Y/N looks over her shoulder it seems that Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is no exception.

“Here come on. We just need to grab a few things and then we’ll go home, and I’ll be able to put the potion in your hair, sound good?” Both twins nod excitedly and Y/N smiles at them. “And no running away!” she adds with a laugh, before pulling them both into the store behind her.

“There were just the cutest little red head twins outside,” Verity calls dreamily from her place in the front window. They’re still a few minutes from opening, so she’s waiting by the door for it to be time to unlock it.

Fred comes down the last few steps from his flat into the shop, fixing his tie. He comes to stand next to Verity, peering out the window with her. “Really? George and I better watch out, they may try and steal out thunder,” he jokes.

It’s started to barely snow when the door to the Potion supply store just down the road swings open, and two little kids with fiery hair are running out to twirl around in the snow. Fred goes to say something, but his mouth runs dry when someone else follows the kids out. “Y/N?” he asks, almost unable to believe what he’s seeing. He hasn’t seen her in almost five years, and his heart has started to pound in his chest.

“You know her?” Verity asks, watching as Y/N chases the two little kids around in the snow.

Fred nods, almost unable to believe what he’s seeing. Y/N is there in front of him and Fred’s blood runs cold as he watches the little girl run into Y/N’s arms. “Hey Verity. How old do you reckon those kids are?” Fred has a few nieces, but he’s absolute shit at telling how old kids are.

Verity hums, watching them closely. “I’d say anywhere from 4 to maybe 6? It’s kinda hard to tell through the window but they’re definitely no younger than 3.” Fred makes a noise from behind her, and she turns to look at him. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Fred just stands there, unable to form a coherent sentence as his brain puts the pieces together. Not only is Y/N out there with two young children, they both have fiery red hair that looks quite like his, and their approximate age makes it very likely that Y/N could have been pregnant with them during their last year when he broke up with her.

Before Fred has truly processed the fact that those very well might be his children playing in the snow, he’s throwing the door to the joke shop open and heading out into the cold. Both of the kids are giggling like crazy, and it makes Fred’s knees quiver as he approaches. “Y/N!” Fred calls when he’s only a few feet away.

Y/N freezes at the sound of her voice being called by someone far too familiar. She grabs a hand of each twin and pulls them close to her side as she stands up. “Fred,” she says flatly, looking up at him. Her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest, and she can’t help but look Fred up and down. He looks older, more mature, but still so familiar to Y/N.

“What are you? What is? Who are?” Fred stutters as he tries to find just the right words.

He lets his eyes wander from Y/N’s face down to the two little kids standing at her side. Both of their cheeks are flushed red from the cold, and as Fred looks at the little girl there’s no denying that she’s Y/N’s daughter. Her eyes are the same color as her mother’s, and her cheeks have the same roundness. He looks to the other child then, and his jaw nearly drops. It’s as if he’s looking at a baby photo of himself that his mother has hanging on the walls of the Burrow. The little boy has the same brown eyes as Fred, and an almost identical freckle pattern splashed across his cheeks. If there was any doubt in Fred’s mind before it’s gone now. There is no denying that he’s the father of these children.

“Mummy,” Electra asks, tugging on Y/N’s hand. She waits for her mother to look at her before she continues. “Who is that?” she asks, pointing towards Fred.

Y/N swallows thickly and squats down so she’s eyelevel with the kids. “That’s Mummy’s friend Fred, from school. I’ve told you about him and his brother, George. Remember?” She gestures behind Fred, towards the shop. “They own the joke store where Papa buys all those little things for you two to prank me with.”

Both twins giggle at that, looking at Fred with awe. He can barely believe the words he’s hearing, and he’s frozen in place. The little boy lets go of Y/N’s hand and takes a few steps towards Fred and holds his hand out.

“It’s great to meet you, Mr. Fred,” Phoenix greets. When Fred tentatively bends down and shakes his little hand, he smiles. “I’m Phoenix and that,” he pauses so he can turn back to point at his sister. “Is my baby sister, Electra.”

“Only by 5 minutes!” Electra shouts, running towards her brother. Phoenix takes off then, and Fred watches as they chase each other around in the snow, the wind blowing through their hair and both of them laughing like crazy.

“They just turned four, in December,” Y/N says as she stands up.

Fred tears his gaze away from them so he can look at Y/N. “How could you not tell me?”

Y/N shrugs and looks away from Fred’s intense stare. “You made it pretty clear that I had no place in your life or in your future, I didn’t want to go through that again. And I didn’t want to share them with you, if I’m honest.”

“Share them with me?” Fred asks, trying to contain his anger. “They’re my kids Y/N. Not some stupid toy.”

“Obviously I know that, Fred,” Y/N sneers with a glare. “But I was barely 18 when I found out I was pregnant, and I’d just had my heart shattered out of nowhere by the guy I thought I was going to marry. So, excuse me for not running right to you. I was freaking out when I found out I was pregnant and being rejected by you for a second time wasn’t high on my list of priorities.”  

“I still deserved to know,” Fred responds, less angry. He hadn’t of even thought about that. Of course, Y/N would have been scared and unwilling to come to him. He still can’t think about the night he ended things without getting emotional, and he can’t imagine how it felt for Y/N, especially finding out she was pregnant only a few months later.

“I know, I know,” Y/N admits sadly. They both just look at each other for a moment, the twins still running in circles around them.

“Where do we go from here? I can’t just pretend they don’t exist,” Fred says quietly. “I want to be in their lives, Y/N. I need to be.” Fred pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. “But there’s things we need to talk about. About that night, the things I said to you. Can we do that, please?”

Y/N nods and reaches into her bag for a spare piece of parchment and a pen. She scribbles something down and reaches out to hand it to Fred. “Here’s my address. Come by tonight? The kids go down at 8 so come any time after that, we won’t have to worry about any little ears listening in.”

Fred grabs the piece of parchment, letting his hand linger on Y/N’s for just a moment. The contact sends a shiver down his spine and Fred thinks his heart might just beat out of his chest. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Great.” Y/N calls both kids back to her, and they each wave at Fred before taking their mother’s hand and apperating away.

-

“Mummy?” Electra asks that evening as Y/N is getting her and her brother ready for bed. The twins are standing on little stools and brushing their teeth while Y/N runs a comb through their freshly washed hair.

“Yes, my love?” Y/N responds, making eye contact with her in the mirror.

“When can we see your friend again?” Electra asks once she’s spat her toothpaste foam into the sink. “The one from today?”

Y/N bites her lip and starts to braid Electra’s hair. “You mean Fred?” Electra nods as best she can and Phoenix nods excitedly next to her. “You guys like Fred?”

“He’s so tall!” Phoenix muses with a giggle. “You think I’m ever gonna be that tall, Mummy?”

Despite the fact that they’re the same age, Phoenix is already a few inches taller than Electra. He clearly takes after Fred, so Y/N is sure that he’ll end up being just as tall as his dad. “I think you might be, bud.”

“And he’s got red hair like us!” Electra adds with a giggle. “I’ve never met anyone with red hair before.”

“Well your hair isn’t red right now,” Y/N teases as she wraps a hair tie around the end of Electra’s braid. Her potion making was successful, and for the next few days Electra’s hair will be a soft purple color. “Can I tell you guys something crazy?” Both of the twins turn so they can look at Y/N and nod happily. “Everyone in Fred’s family has red hair.”

“No way!” Electra and Phoenix gasp at the same time.

“Everyone?” Phoenix asks in awe.

Y/N nods and reaches out to ruffle his still damp hair. “Every single one. And you guys have something else in common with Fred too.”

“What is it? What is it? What is it?” Electra asks excitedly, bouncing on her stool.

“Fred is a twin too,” she says with a laugh, pressing a kiss to Electra’s forehead. “His brother George that he runs his store with is his identical twin.”

Phoenix hops off of his stool so he can come over and hug Y/N’s leg. “Wicked. So, we can see him again?”

“Maybe, sweetheart. I’m not sure yet,” Y/N says honestly. Fred wants to be in their lives, but they still have so many unresolved issues. The last thing she wants to do is get their hopes up only for Fred to be gone just as quickly as he came.

Electra wraps her arms around Y/N’s middle and hugs her close. “Please Mummy,” she begs, looking up at her with wide eyes. “He seemed really nice. And he was really cute!”

“Electra,” Y/N laughs. “That’s enough out of you. Fred is my friend and I won’t be having any talk like that.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Phoenix teases, looking up at Y/N with a cheeky grin.

He looks so much like Fred in that moment, and it nearly knocks the breath out of her lungs. “You two are crazy. It’s time for bed, monkeys. Let’s go.”

“That wasn’t a no!” Electra shouts as she jumps from her stool and follows her brother out of the bathroom.

-

Y/N has just come down the stairs from putting the kids to bed when there’s a soft knock at the door. She sighs as she looks around at the mess her living room as turned into. Y/N planned on cleaning up a bit before Fred arrived, but it took forever to calm the twins down after their conversation in the bathroom. She’d had to read them two stories and admit she thought Fred was cute before they would drift off.

“Hey, come on in,” Y/N greets as she pulls the door open for Fred. This is the first time she’s seen him up close, and he’s just as handsome as she remembers. Y/N tries to calm her heartbeat down as she shuts the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. The twins have just started getting their magic and it’s hard to keep up with them.”

Both Electra and Phoenix had started to exhibit signs of magic just after their fourth birthday, and ever since they’ve been more chaotic than usual. If Y/N didn’t know any better she would think that they somehow have managed to already control what little magic they have, because it always seems like they’re working together to cause as big of a mess as possible.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fred says as Y/N waves her wand, watching as things fly back into place. “George and I gave Mum a run for her money, so I’d expect nothing less from my children.” The words feel funny in his mouth. His children. As exciting as the idea of being a dad is, Fred would be lying if he said he also wasn’t scared shitless.

“Can I get you something? Wine? Firewhiskey? Tea?” Y/N asks, gesturing for Fred to take a seat on the couch.

Fred sits down slowly, watching Y/N fidget. “Most people assume I drink coffee.”

“Well I’m not most people,” Y/N responds, flushing slightly.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Fred says quietly. “I’m alright, Y/N. Thanks though.”

Y/N nods and sits down next to Fred, making sure to keep a good amount of distance between them.  “So,” she starts, looking over at Fred. “Where do we even begin?”

“I don’t have any idea,” Fred answers truthfully. “I never really thought I’d ever be having a conversation like this. There’s so much I wanna say to you. And stuff I wanna ask you. But I have no idea where to start.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Can I ask you a question?” When Fred nods she takes a deep breath to try and calm herself. There are things she needs to know the answer to, no matter how much it hurts. “Why did you break up with me? It came out of nowhere, for me at least. One minute we were talking about building a life together and the next, you were gone.”

“There was a lot of stuff going on, with my family,” Fred starts, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “My parents were a part of this secret society founded by Dumbledore to fight Voldemort called the Order of the Phoenix. And just before Christmas break my dad was almost killed by Voldemort’s snake during a mission.”

“Fred,” Y/N says softly, fighting her urge to reach out and grab his hand. “How come you never told me any of this?”

“I wasn’t allowed to, Dumbledore’s orders. But going through all that, it made me think about stuff. About me and you and life outside of Hogwarts. George and I decided that we would join the Order once we left school, and I couldn’t put your life in jeopardy like that, Y/N. Our family was being targeted by death eaters and followed around. I knew it would only get worse as time went on. And if you had gotten hurt because of me, I would never be able to forgive myself,” Fred pauses, running a hand through his hair. “So, when George and I decided to leave school early to start the shop, I decided it would be best to end things with you. That’s the only way I knew to keep you safe.”

“So, you didn’t just randomly stop loving me?” Y/N asks meekly.

“God no,” Fred answers immediately. “Y/N I loved you more than life itself. If I knew you were pregnant, or you came and told me I would have grabbed you and ran as far away from Voldemort as possible. It killed me to lie to you like that, but I wanted you to be safe and happy, even if it meant that it wasn’t with me.”

Y/N goes to respond, but she lets out a groan when the phone rings. “Probably my Mum, I’ll be right back. If I don’t answer she’ll just show up and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

Fred laughs as Y/N walks away, unable to stop himself from watching. Having children has done great things to her body, and he can’t help but appreciate it. He’s thinking about how beautiful she still is when the sound of soft pattering on the stairs catches his attention.

“Fred?” Electra asks, her lower lip wobbling as tears streak down her face. “Where’s my Mummy?”

“She’s in the kitchen. Do you want me to go get her?” Electra shakes her head, and before Fred can process what’s happening she’s heading towards him with her arms outstretched. Without hesitation Fred picks her up and places her in his lap. Her little legs wrap around his middle and she tucks her arms into her chest before resting her head on his shoulder. Fred’s hands shake as he hugs her to him tightly, one of his hands coming up to stroke her hair. “What’s wrong, Angel?”

“Bad dream,” she sniffles.

Fred’s heart melts as she snuggles in closer, and he starts to slowly rub her back. “It’s alright, Angel. You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.” He presses his cheek to the top of her head and inhales deeply, the familiar scent of honey and flowers overwhelming his senses. His chest aches as Electra, his daughter, cries, and he so desperately just wants to make her feel better. “I’m right here, Angel. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Promise?” Electra asks, pulling away to look at Fred.

Fred leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. He’s aware that he’s probably breaking about 100 boundaries, but he can’t find it in his heart to care. His little girl is sitting in his lap crying and he’s going to make sure she knows he cares for her. “Promise,” he answers, holding out his pinky finger.

Electra lets out a giggle and hooks one of her pinkies around Fred’s. “You have to keep it now, forever,” Electra reminds him, squeezing his pinky tight.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Fred presses another kiss to her forehead before he wipes away some of her tears. “Feeling better now?”

“Loads,” Electra confirms with a nod. She bites her lip, giving Fred a look. “Can I ask you a question?”

Fred chuckles. “Sure, Angel. What’s on your mind?”

“Do you think my Mummy is pretty?” she asks, shocking Fred. “Because she thinks you’re cute.”

“Does she?” Fred asks in surprise. Of course, Fred had hoped Y/N would still find him attractive, and he hasn’t stopped thinking about her since this morning. He never imagined that he’d be reunited with Y/N so he never let himself imagine creating a future with her, but now she’s back in his life with his kids and Fred would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about what that could mean for them.

“Mhm, she told me and Phoenix before we went to bed.” Electra nudges him. “So, do you think she’s pretty?”

Fred smiles at her. “Don’t tell her, but I think your Mummy is absolutely gorgeous,” he tells her quietly.

Electra giggles excitedly and hugs Fred tightly. “I think you should ask her to be your girlfriend. Mummy’s never had a boyfriend even though Grandma keeps trying to give her one.”

“Oh?” Fred asks, raising his eyebrows at her. “And how do you know all this?”

“I can be real quiet when I want to be,” Electra answers, giving him a cheeky smile and a wink. “Papa thinks it’s because she’s still in love with our Daddy.”

Fred practically chokes on his saliva and he has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He can hear his heart pounding in his chest and his pulse is thrumming. “Do you know a lot? About your Daddy?” he asks, unable to stop the question from coming out.

Electra shakes her head. “Mummy doesn’t talk about him a lot. Only if Phoenix and I ask. She tells us stories sometimes and talks about how funny and kind he is. And that they loved each other tons. But that’s it.”

“Does it make you sad? That you don’t know a lot about him?” Fred asks. This is definitely not an appropriate conversation to have with a four-year-old, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

“Sometimes,” Electra answers with a shrug. “I love Mummy so so much and she’s the best Mummy in the world. But I think it would be nice, to have my Daddy around too. And I think it would make her happier too.”

“What would make who happier?” Y/N asks as she comes back into the room.

“Nothing. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Electra answers, winking at Fred.

Y/N crosses her arms and gives the girl a look. “What are you doing out of bed, Ellie?”

“I had a bad dream. But it’s okay, Fred made me feel better.”

“Well that was very nice of Fred to do,” Y/N says quietly. “But since you’re feeling better I guess you can get back in to bed now, hm?”

“I guess,” Electra pouts. “Can I ask you a question first?” she asks, holding her arms out for Y/N to pick her up.

“I suppose,” Y/N answers, picking her up and settling her on her hip.

“How come you lied to us? Before bed you said you didn’t know if we’d see Fred again, but here he is, sitting on our couch.” Electra’s tone is stern, and her eyes are narrowed at Y/N.

Y/N laughs. “I never said I wasn’t going to see Fred again. I said I wasn’t sure you and your brother were going to see Fred again.” Electra frowns at that and Y/N presses a kiss to her forehead. “Now say goodnight to Fred.”

“Goodnight, Fred,” Electra grumbles as Y/N starts to head back up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Angel,” Fred says back with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry about her,” Y/N says as she comes back down the stairs a few minutes later. “I hope she didn’t say anything too crazy.”

“Nothing too bad,” Fred reassures with a laugh. “Though she did mention she’s quite the eavesdropper, so I’d keep an eye on her.”

Y/N groans as she flops onto the couch. “She told you about the boyfriend thing then?” When Fred nods she groans again, her cheeks heating up. “It’s all she’s talked about for weeks, literally anyone that will listen to her gets to hear about the fact that I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“I think it’s cute,” Fred insists. “She clearly loves you a lot and just wants you to be happy.” Fred bites his lip. “How come you don’t date? If you don’t mind me asking. Electra has theories but I’d like to hear from you.”

“Of course, she does,” Y/N says with a laugh. “Truthfully, I’ve never had the desire to date anyone else. I always say it’s because the kids are young, and I don’t want to confuse them or bring people around them, but I have gone on a few dates here and there. No one ever feels like the right fit. We were together for so long that everything just always seemed so natural between us. Like we always knew what the other was thinking. Trying to date other people just feels weird, and artificial.”

Fred nods, running a hand through his hair. “I feel you. I’ve had my fair share of failed relationships over the past few years. I think the longest one lasted maybe three months?” he sighs. “I realized I kept trying to recreate what we had with every girl I dated and it’s not fair to them. What we had was special. Irreplaceable.”

Y/N watches Fred for a moment. Before today she had been positive she moved on from Fred, he hardly occupied her thoughts anymore and her chest would only occasionally ache. But after seeing him today, finding out the truth about what happened that night. She can’t help but notice that feelings for Fred she buried long ago have started to rise up again with full force.

“So, you’re not seeing anyone right now?” Y/N asks quietly.

Fred shakes his head and turns so he’s facing Y/N fully. “No, and I haven’t been for quite a while.” He looks her up and down, trying to decide what to say next. “But there is this woman, who I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I saw her today.”

“Oh?” Y/N asks coyly, subtly moving a bit closer to Fred.

“Yeah. And just a few minutes ago her daughter was telling me how cute her Mum thinks I am, and that I should be her boyfriend.” Fred smirks as Y/N’s cheeks flush red. “And I couldn’t help but tell her daughter just how breathtakingly beautiful I find her Mother.”

Instead of responding, Y/N chooses to be bold and she grabs the front of Fred’s shirt, pulling him into a slow kiss. Their lips move together just as perfectly as they always have, making it seem like no time has passed between them at all. Y/N moans as Fred deepens the kiss, letting him pull her onto his lap.

“You’re incredible,” Fred pants as they pull away. He leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. You have no idea.”

“I’ve missed you too, Freddie.” Y/N buries her face in Fred’s neck, letting him hug her close. They sit there in silence for a few moments, just enjoying being together again.

“How should we tell them?” Fred asks, breaking the silence. “About who I really am? I’m okay, with being just your friend Fred for a bit while we figure everything out. That might make it easier.”

Y/N pulls away and gingerly grabs Fred’s face. “You deserve to be in their life as their dad and they deserve to have you in their life that way too. I thought seeing you with them would fill me with jealousy but honestly, seeing you with Electra, it made my heart burst with happiness. And Phoenix would not shut up about you before bed, it was actually really cute.”

Fred chuckles. “They’re just like their Mum, can’t resist my charm.”

Y/N flicks Fred on the nose and then kisses the same spot. “I’ve been thinking about how to tell them throughout the day and I think I have a good idea. All you have to do is come by again tomorrow, around 8 again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Fred murmurs, before pulling Y/N into another heated kiss.

-

“Alright guys, it’s time to start getting ready for bed,” Y/N says as she walks into Electra’s room the next night. Both kids groan and turn to pout at their mother.

“Five more minutes,” Phoenix begs.

“Please, Mummy!” Electra adds.

“You can have five more minutes.” When both of them cheer Y/N puts a finger up to quiet them down. “Or we can start getting ready for bed right now and you’ll get a special bedtime treat. Which would you prefer?”

Phoenix and Electra look at each other for a moment before they drop the toys they’d been holding and run past Y/N into the bathroom.

“Is the special bedtime treat that we get to sleep in bed with you?” Phoenix asks thirty minutes later as he snuggles into Y/N’s pillows.

“Not quite, it’s even better than that,” Y/N responds as she helps Electra on to the bed. She drops to her knees then and grabs a medium sized shoe box before standing back up.

“What’s in the box?” Electra asks as Y/N climbs into bed and settles in between her and Phoenix.

“Well,” Y/N starts, letting her hand slowly drag over the top. “There’s a few different things in here. When I first found out you two were growing in my belly, I started writing letters to your Dad. But I was too scared to send them, so I kept them all in here.”

“Are you going to read them to us?” Phoenix asks softly.

Y/N shakes her head. “Not tonight. There are a few other things in here I want to show you. Inside this box along with all of those letters, is all the pictures I have of your Dad and I from when we were at school together.”

“We get to see them?” Electra asks excitedly.

“Mhm,” Y/N confirms with a nod. “You guys are getting older now and it’s time you know a bit more about him.” Y/N slowly lifts the lid of the box and grabs the small stack of photos on top. She takes a peek at the first one, before holding it out for both of them to see. “This is from our seventh year, we were walking down to Hogsmeade, the little village outside of school. And one of my friends took this picture of your Dad carrying me on his back.”

Electra and Phoenix’s eyes roam over the photo. Fred isn’t very visible in the photo, just his red hair is visible over Y/N’s shoulder. This is one of Y/N’s favorite memories she has of Fred. She’d stubbed her toe just as they left the castle, and Fred had made a spectacle of it. He insisted on carrying her everywhere, no matter how many times Y/N demanded he put her down.  

“Show us another one,” Phoenix requests quietly.

“This one is from our sixth year,” Y/N explains as she shows them the photo. “Hogwarts participated in something called the Triwizard Tournament, and there was this great big ball on Christmas.” The photo just captures Y/N and Fred’s side profiles, each of them smiling as Fred sways them side to side.

Electra frowns and her eyebrows knit together as she looks at the photo. “Hey, he looks kinda familiar,” she muses, looking up at Y/N. “I think I’ve seen him before.”

Phoenix pouts. “What? That’s not fair.”

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head. “Let me show you one more photo, okay?” She takes the next photo and holds it face down for a moment. “This one is just your dad. I took it in front of the black lake just a few weeks into our last year.” Y/N flips the photo over slowly, watching as both Electra and Phoenix focus on it intently.  

“Wait a minute, isn’t that,” Electra starts.

“Fred!” Phoenix finishes excitedly. “So, Fred isn’t just your friend?”

“No baby,” Y/N says quietly, trying to keep her emotions in. “Fred was my boyfriend at school, and he’s your Dad.” Y/N pauses, and she hears the front door click shut. “And I think he just walked through the front door.” Both Phoenix and Electra squeal excitedly as they scramble off the bed and head towards the stairs. “Be careful!” Y/N shouts as she starts to follow them.

Fred has barely taken off his coat when he hears the sound of tiny little feet running towards him. He turns towards the stairs just in time to hold out his arms and catch Phoenix and Electra as they jump off the last few steps and into his chest. He wraps one arm around Phoenix and the other around Electra so he can hug them tightly.

“Hello to you too,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to each of their heads. He inhales deeply, overwhelmed once again by the scent of honey and flowers. “You guys miss me that much already? I just saw you yesterday,” Fred jokes, trying to hide how emotional he feels.

“Yeah but yesterday you were just Fred,” Electra giggles.

“Today you’re our Dad,” Phoenix adds with a laugh.

Fred laughs and puts them both down on the ground and crouches so he’s eye level with them. “Is that okay? That I’m your Dad?”

“Is it okay? It’s like the coolest thing ever!” Phoenix insists, hugging Fred again.

Fred returns his hug, rubbing his back. He holds his other arm out and looks at Electra. “What about you, Angel? It is okay with you?”

“Better than okay, Daddy,” Electra confirms, letting Fred hug her tightly.

Y/N comes down the stairs then, tears forming in her eyes as she watches Fred hold their children close. Phoenix is the first to notice her presence, and he pulls away from Fred so Y/N can pick him up.

“Why are you sad, Mummy?” he asks, wiping away a few of the tears that have started to stream down her cheeks.

“I’m not sad, baby,” Y/N insists. “Just really, really happy.”

Fred stands up then and picks up Electra, settling her on his hip. “Hi love,” he greets, leaning forward to kiss Y/N briefly.

Electra squeals in delight as their lips touch, and Phoenix pretends to gag, causing Fred and Y/N to laugh as they pull away.

“Does this mean we get to be a family? Forever?” Electra asks excitedly.

“Forever,” Fred confirms, kissing her on the forehead.

“Pinky promise?” she asks, holding her little pinky out.

Fred hooks his pinky around hers, gesturing for Phoenix and Y/N to do the same. “Promise.”

[phoenixrising0308]

Wacky Drabbles: Time of your life

Books: The Royal Romance 2

Rating: M (18+) Sexual situation and adult themes.

Trigger Warnings in this chapter: None

Pairing: None

Wacky Drabble A/U: This story exists on its own and may or may not be a part of their journey together. Traits, personalities, and characters are all the same. Some canon characters may appear but in a different manifestation and by no means exist in that form in Agent Phoenix A/U this is not meant to be anything other than an A/U onto itself. Catch up on the wacky drabbles here.

Disclaimer

The Wacky Drabbles from @emceesynonymroll​ prompt “Me? Scared? Never.”

Chapter Summary: Jessica returns to Ramsford to get ready for the Engagement tour

Song inspiration: I've had - Bill Medley, Jennifer Warnes

Word count: 2,265 according to google. As always forgive my typos and grammatical errors.

Average reading time: 8 minutes

Beaumont Estate -  Maxwell’s dance studio

“This is fucken stupid!” Jessica shouted back in frustration.

“Blossom, come out, Maxwell said pleadingly, trying desperately to diffuse the situation.

“Fuck this, I am done!” Jessica yelled before she began to sob. The sound filled the Beaumont dance studio.

Maxwell ran to the changing room door and said, “Blossom, I hate when you cry but we can’t work on your dance moves from the changing room. Please! Pretty please with a cherry on top and a hand full of sprinkles!”

The doorknob turned and Jessica slowly opened the door, wiping away her tears. Jessica was dressed in her ‘Take it to the Max’ dance shirt, tights, and dance shoes.

“Now that this tantrum is over, let’s start again.” Bertrand shouted with frustration in his voice as he walked over to the sound speaker and pressed play.

And the song began to fill the studio.

“Now I’ve had the time of my life

No, I never felt like this before

Yes I swear it’s the truth

And I owe it all to you”

Maxwell started to mambo over to Jessica in the corner of the room.

“Lady Jessica, mambo to Maxwell”  Bertrand ordered. Jessica sighed and she started swaying her hips to the music, starting to mambo.

Maxwell and Jessica met at the center of the room. He held in his arms and dipped her effortlessly. Keeping in time before returning to the mambo steps.

“Blossom, salsa side steps, you know this!”

Jessica began to salsa sidestep and said, “My people created Salsa.. if I couldn’t do it my parents would be rolling over in their graves.”

Maxwell smiled and said, “ Well this makes the job easier.”

“So this is our plan to get Liam to notice me?” Jessica muttered, not feeling confident in the plan.

“We speak through dance Jessie,” Maxwell assured with a grin.

“I will be damned if we do not go down without a fight! There will be a Beaumont Queen!” Bertrand shouted as Maxwell and Jessica picked up the pace.

“Bertrand, this whole thing is about Liam noticing me and maybe seeing if he misses me or something like that,” Jessica said as she looked at the ground.

“Blossom, this is my box and that’s your box. Stay in your box.” Maxwell lightly scolded, his teaching the opposite of his brother’s aggressive side.

Jessica dramatically creased Maxwell’s body, Maxwell repeated the move on Jessica and put her into a half turn. He whispered “Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

Jessica danced backward as did Maxwell.

“I want to see that Goddamn lift! Maxwell Percival Beaumont. That Blonde-haired barrier is stiff as a rod! You have hips, Lady Jessica, use them!” Bertrand shouted, scowling at the dance.

Jessica ran to Maxwell and jumped, Maxwell, lifted her into the air effortlessly as Jessica struggled to keep her legs straight.

Bertrand walked over and got closer. “Lady Jessica…You look like you are a squid without water trying to get back in the ocean flapping about! Tighten that core!”

“Squeeze that New York apple bottom,” Maxwell added.

Jessica squeezed and was able to maintain her posture. Maxwell slowly let her down.

“Good job Blossom!”

“That was sloppy again.” Bertrand scolded with a frown.

“Bertrand, I got it! Why are you being so a fucken asshole?! I have been in Bertrand boot camp for a month! I know all the forks… and spoons. I can speak wine like a snob. What else is there to learn?! How to have a stick up my ass?! Because the clear winners here are Regina and Madeline!”

Jessica felt tears stinging her eyes again. “I want to go home, forget it! Liam doesn’t love me. He probably doesn’t even want to hear from me. Thanks to that fuck face Tariq. I totally will dick punch him when I get the chance. Why did I let you talk me out of going home?!”

Bertrand walked over and put his hands on the shoulder and shook them “Pull yourself together.”

“Jessie, maybe we should just have fun? He is my friend but it doesn’t always have to be about him.” Maxwell assured.

Jessica bit her lip and nodded her head.

“Alright…But only if the Sergeant silverware isn’t going to yell at me every 5 seconds!”

Bertrand scoffed, “I’m simply instructing you on how to properly carry yourself. You’re a Beaumont now, your image is our image. I-”

Maxwell interrupted him, “Bro… it could be worse. She is getting it. Maybe you should just sit this one out? Blossom is a quick learner and everyone learns differently…Maybe she’d do better if she didn’t feel like she was being judged?”

Bertrand let out an offended huff. “Fine. If you think you can teach this New Yorker how to be proper nobility better than me, be my guest Brother.” He scowled as he folded his arms.

Maxwell beamed as he went back to the stereo, turning it on again.

“This time, pretend it’s just you and me having fun!”

Jessica eyed him skeptically, her eyes looking to Bertrand before Maxwell called her back to attention.

“Eyes on me.” He sauntered over to her, easily gliding and swaying his hips with each step. Jessica slowly eased herself back into their previous dance.

Her hips moved a bit more fluidly as she got into it.

“Woah! That’s it, Blossom!” He cheered her on as they met, spinning her as her legs danced beneath her.

“Alright, take it home!” Maxwell lifted Jessica up, this time, she tried balancing herself. Sucking in her stomach to have better form.

“Ha! See? I knew that would help.” Maxwell smiled as he sat her back down. Bertrand raised a brow.

“Well, you looked slightly less awkward. Nothing to congratulate you on considering your form is still stiff.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do great. I just know it!” Maxwell said.

Engagement tour Fydelia

Bertrand put his hands on Jessica shoulders “Now go have time of your life! No one slanders the name of our house without a tongue lashing. Or dance routine.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” Jessica affirmed. “Heck yes! Show them how Beaumont’s do it!” Maxwell said.

The song changed and Maxwell and Jessica nodded at one another, slinking onto the dance floor. Everyone parted as they watched them stand to either side of each other.

At Regina and Constantine’s table

Regina said, “Constantine there are rumors circulating among the guards that Bastien did some research on Lady Jessica maybe more… why?“

Constantine said, “Very well, I wanted to know who this honorary Beaumont is.  She is studying to be a professor of sorts top of her class, a blue-collar family. Her mother died when she was 14 or 15 Ovarian cancer.  Her brothers and father raised her they are the New York equivalent to the King's guard. Her father was shot to death in the street when she was 19. Clearly, she is dazzled by our world she doesn’t fit into it. She isn’t refined like we are she never traveled anywhere outside of the United States before she came here. I am glad I was able to save Liam from the humiliation of a wife that will surely embarrass him with some missed step. Madeline is the perfect fit for Queen she would be doing it now if it wasn’t for Leo so I fixed it. Now she will be with Liam. He will grow to love her or bear it.”

Regina looked at Jessica smiling in Maxwell’s arms as they dance and said, “Well she certainly learned pretty fast look at her.”

Constantine rolled his eyes and said Regina “Survival I suppose. One last hope to marry into nobility. Let Lord Beaumont marry her if he pleases he has affection for her. Or she can just be passed around in court till the men have had their fun with her. Lady Jessica is nothing more than Liam’s lapdog a whore he will grow tired of her as the tour progresses.”

Regina whispered back “Well he is staring at her like a man in love. I don’t think this is a phase, Constantine. He has seemed very sullen as of late perhaps maybe he will come to an arrangement with her? Madeline is not opposed she suggested it.”

Constantine threw his napkin on the table and said, “Whatever gets it out of his system. Liam will exercise caution at all times! There will be no Rys bastard child from that union. Remind him of that! A child won’t be recognized anyway I made sure of that. However, Regina accidents happen all the time. It can happen now, later or when the situation dictates an unfortunate turn of events. I will get rid of it and her one way or another.”

Regina looked at Constantine in shock and said, “Surely you don’t mean-”

Constantine looked at Liam and said, “Regina the less you know the better but talk sense into him we can’t have him pining away for her in public look at him he hasn’t shown any affection towards Madeline and that simply can not be. Liam is in for a rude awakening. I signed several laws he won’t be able to overturn. I made it impossible for him to get out of this and get a divorce. Leo embarrassed me enough people will doubt the monarch with yet another broken engagement. Liam foolishly hangs on to hope and the idea of love. Liam is King and Madeline will be his Queen end of the story.”

Back on the dance floor…

Jessica’s hips swayed to the beat as her feet mamboed over to Maxwell who matched her movements. The whole room watched in interest as the dance partners met hand in hand. Gliding on the dance floor as the song progressed.

Maxwell spun Jessica before pulling her back in to whisper, “You’re doing great Jessie. Bring it on the home.”

Jessica took a deep breath, making her movements as strong and sensual as possible. Knowing damn well that Liam was watching. She leaped into Maxwell’s arms and was hoisted above his head with ease. She lengthened her body and activated her core.

She saw Bertrand give her a confident and proud nod. Right before her eyes met with the man of the hour himself…

“Hm…How…Commonly entertaining.” Madeline gave with a poker face as she danced. Meanwhile, Liam couldn’t take his eyes from Jessica the entire dance.

Liam and Madeline coldly graced the dance floor during their number. Madeline spoke up, “Now Darling, you are staring at her. Remember our agreement. See her if you must but remember who is the wife and who is the whore.”

Liam whispered in Madeline’s ear “I’m not your ‘darling’ and I never will be.” Liam smirked and said, “Whore… you forget my brother was once your fiancé he said you were very easy and actually very dull in bed. He also added it didn’t take much convincing and you gave yourself to him in less than an hour…that’s pretty loose behavior I think.”

“Your brother shared details about my relationship with him? Madeline looked across the room and saw Leo standing across who gave her a cocky smirk and mouth the words to her “Slut.” Madeline turns beet red as she glared at Leo who again flashed a cocky smirk and mouthed “Fuck you.” at her.

Liam laughed and said, “I believe his words were Madeline just laid there and was nothing more thing just a place to stick my dick in. I had to think of someone else to be done with it. That makes you sloppy seconds Madeline. What do you call a woman that sleeps with one brother out of interest and turns around and tries to do the same to the other because it will elevate her social status?”

Madeline whispered back ” Fine so intimacy between us will just serve one purpose to guarantee an heir get your fun elsewhere. Liam she common whatever could you possibly see in her that you can’t grow to see in me?”

“Jessica lights up a room with a smile. I see love and warmth in her. She would do anything to put a smile on my face and she never expects anything in return. She sees Liam the man, not Liam the king. Madeline, you are absolutely frigid and you do nothing without careful calculation.  You have no personality…no spark you maybe noble but YOU are the common one here.”

Jessica and Maxwell finished dancing and walked off the floor, a few nobles clapping at their display.

Jessica turned around and noticed Liam was staring at her and she was just about to smile at him when Madeline noticed they had locked eyes and cupped Liam’s face. Kissing him on the lips just to spite. Liam could see the hurt in her eyes and he was heartbroken and felt utterly helpless.

Madeline grinned and coldly said, “I have the counsel approval and she doesn’t. It’s in your best interest for you to understand Jessica will never really be yours that is unless the commoner agrees to be with you in secret.”

Adelaide clapped and loudly boasted, “Look at this happy couple! Finally, darling, if you didn’t kiss him I would have!”

“Madeline, you are pitiful,” Liam whispered.

Madeline smirked at Liam then said, “Don’t cross me, Liam. She must learn her place. Take what you can which is an affair I will turn a blind eye to. Make me look like a fool and I will go after her.”

Jessica turned face hiding the tears forming in her eyes. They moved off the dance floor with Maxwell and Bertrand walking behind settling in a corner.

Liam’s eyes began to water and he quickly walked off the dance floor and out to the fire pit.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

A heavenly reunion pt. 1; Queen x reader

*Author's note*

This is it guys. After almost 3 years of writing this series it's FINALLY come to the end.  Like all good things, they must end eventually so here it is. The LAST chapter of my Rock Angel series.

I first want to point out the YEARS (except Freddie's death date) DON'T MEAN ANYTHING. I'M NOT TRYING TO PREDICT THE FUTURE OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. I just picked these random years to represent when the remaining members of Queen will pass, AGAIN THESE AREN'T REAL DATES AND I HOPE THEY AREN'T.

Pt. 2 will be up in just a few minutes so until then, enjoy this first part.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@queen-paladin

@sparkleslightlyy

@starswin

@labessieisallama

@isabella-bby

@naturalswifty89

@onebigfangirlworld

@ssa-sadboi

@5sos-wdw

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

@bohemiansweede

_______________________________________________________________

*3rd Person POV. June 23rd, 2051*

Rock star, animal rights activist, founder of organizations like ANGELS CURING AIDS, WORDS CAN HURT TOO; Victims and survivors of emotional and verbal abuse, and the ANGELS AGAINST STALKING that helps protect people from violent stalkers. Also apart of charities like the Mercury Phoenix Trust foundation. The Rock Angel (Y/n) Kline had lived a full life.

She continued to tour with Queen as they got many other partnerships throughout the years. But she most enjoyed collaborating with Adam Lambert as he reminded her of him, bright and ambitious just wanting to share his music with the world and he knew he could never fill in Freddie's shoes but he sure as hell made a name for himself in his own way.

She was also a part of the "Bohemian Rhapsody" film that had been made and got to know the actors playing the men that she had grown up with and came to see them as her true family. Ten years after the film released, her own story got to be told thanks to the rights of Paramount and the brilliant mind of Dexter Fletcher, who had directed the story of her boys and Elton John, another one of her dearest friends and mentors.

But now at the crippled age of 90, the Rock Angel now lived in the privacy of her home in London. She was forced to stop touring because just 3 years ago she was diagnosed with a form of dementia.

It was hard on her family and her 4 children and dozens of grandchildren even great-grandchildren to see the once strong woman they had once admired for so long and looked up to as a role model not only in music, but life.

In their current home of London, her husband of over 70 years Jack who had made a name for himself. After the whole stalking incident, Jack joined the ranks of the LAPD. He worked himself all the way to the top and became Chief for over 30 years before he retired by the time he was in his 60's.

He sat there by his wife's bedside stroking her long white hair as she lay there forced into bedrest. She looked up at him and whispered.

"Jack?"

"I'm here baby."

"Where are they? Where are my boys?" she asked.

"Our sons? They're just downstairs."

"No, no. I meant my boys." At those two words, Jack's heart broke as he looked at his wife sympathetically.

"Baby they've—they died. It's been so many years since they all left this world." At hearing her boys were dead, tears fell down her face but Jack held onto his wife and kissed the top of her head. "But I can show you their videos, if you'd like."

"Please. I need to see them. To tell them goodbye." Jack then reached for the I-pad and opened up the Youtube app and began typing in the very song that he knew he would need.

He knew his wife didn't have long and he wanted her to have one last happy memory of hearing the perfect song written by her boys.

Together they held the I-pad and soon the music video "These are the days of our lives" came on.

"Why does Fred look so sick?" she asked worriedly. Jack swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to explain.

"He was suffering from AIDS, and it—really affected him love."

"I wish I could've taken care of him." She said as she stroked the screen every time Freddie came on screen. At the instrumental break as she watched Brian skillfully play the guitar, she smiled and said. "Bri....he was such a good guitar player."

"He was, but nothing compared to you." Jack praised obviously playing favorites. He then took notice of his wife growing tired as the song ended.

It was time.

"It's okay baby, you can rest now." And she did just that. Her breathing slowed right as Freddie spoke the last 'I still love you' line and the video ended. "Goodnight my Rock Angel. Be with your boys once again." He then let out a sob as he leaned against his deceased wife.

At 10:45am on June 23rd, 2051 (Y/n) Kline was pronounced dead at the old age of 90.

Everyone who had collaborated with the Rock Angel or had looked up to her all gathered at her funeral. Close friends and family all came to mourn at the loss of the last of the greatest Rock and Roll singers. She was buried in her birth town of Leicestershire, right next to her real parents.

*My POV*

I felt peaceful. My mind was no longer hazy. I could remember everything once again, but what confused me was where I was. I found myself walking through a long corridor but as I passed a mirror, I stopped and backed up to find a shocking surprise.

I was young again.

I looked to be about the age of 19, when I first met the guys. My hair was in the same long wavy fashion I once had before I cut it. I stroked along my cheek just to see if this was real or a dream, but as I stroked it I found that it was. Suddenly a door opened before me and I don't know why but I found myself walking toward it.

Now I was in what looked like an office with everything you would see. Filing cabinets, a large desk filled with paperwork but what caught my attention was the abacus that stood at the front center of the desk.

"Ahh (Y/n) Kline, please come forward." I turned to see a man around his 60's with short black hair, a grim like face with sharp cheekbones and icy blue eyes. He wore a black business suit and he was intimidating but for some reason I came forward toward the desk.

He sat down and pulled out a file and began reading through it humming to himself then he said.

"Place your hand over the abacus." I looked at it to see that the color code was white and black. White at top and black at the bottom.

"What is this?"

"This shall determine your next step. Just place your hand over it and let fate do the rest." I didn't know what this was gonna mean but again I saw myself place my hand over it and the second I did, it started going frantic.

Moving up and down frantically with no one even touching it. It was mostly balanced most of the way until it finally majority of the counters went white. The man smiled and said.

"Give my regards to those Rockstar friends' of yours. I'll be looking forward to your next concert." He then snapped his fingers and everything went bright.

Next thing I knew, I heard the sound of birds chirping and felt the sun beaming down on me. I was then greeted with wide open fields and a giant house along with several barn-like homes. It was like Garden Lodge and Rockfield farm mixed into one.

As I stood a few feet away from the main mansion-like house I swore from the second window of the white satin curtains I saw movement. I walked towards the house and placed my hand on the doorknob, I paused for a few seconds before I finally opened the door. I walked in and it was exactly like Freddie's home of Garden Lodge.

I walked through the threshold to see the grand staircase to my right, the long corridor ahead of me and the entrance to the living room to my left.

"Hello?" I said as I stood there. It was then I felt something nuzzle between my legs and I heard a meow. I heard it again and I looked down to see a very familiar face. "Hey, Delilah." I picked her up and held her as she purred and nuzzled my face. I scratched under her chin and she lowered her head to lick my hand.

"No it should be more like this." I heard a low, smooth baritone voice say.

"No, no and no Mr. tuxedo! Bernie has it like this and it shall remain this way. He and I are the genius piano and songwriting duo and it'll stick to this rhythm and timing." Another voice boasted out.

Oh my god.....It can't be. I set Delilah down and she took off running up the stairs as I crossed the living room into the parlor where Fred kept his piano to see two men that I had not seen in forever.

"David? Elton?" I spoke up. The two men turned toward me. David looked so much healthier than last I saw him and he looked younger just like me, in fact he looked about the same age he was when he did Live aid as well as working on the Jim Henson project 'the Labyrinth'.

Elton on the other hand looked about the age from when he was first starting off, back before he began experimenting with all the drugs and all that. The vibrant ginger hair but he still had on those flamboyant sunglasses he always loved to wear.

"Is that—really you?" I asked bewildered.

"Oh shit it can't be. The high angel herself, the Rock Angel?" Elton dramatic tone.

"Yes, it's me."

"Ohh darling. Welcome home." David greeted me with a wide smile and open arms as he walked up to me. He embraced me as he chuckled warmly and said, "Did you have a good life darling?"

"Uh-huh. I had the best life." I said, my voice muffled within his blue suit.

"It looked like you did love." We separated and I couldn't help but admire just how healthy he was.

"How have you been David?"

"Much better darling. No more chemo, I can finally breathe again."

"That's good."

"Alright you overgrown smooth talker, let me at her now." Elton proclaimed as he shoved David aside and immediately came up and kissed both of my cheeks before embracing me. "Oh darling we sure have missed you."

"And I you Elton. Life just hasn't been the same without your music."

"Been practicing those scales I taught you?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes, whenever I could."

"That's my girl." He hugged me again and I buried my face into his shoulder.

"(Y/n)?" a choir of voices soon rang up. I felt my heart stop as I lifted my head, not believing what I was hearing. Elton let go of me and both he and David with soft smiles on their faces told me to go and see who it was. The four voices called out my name again.

I crossed through the parlor, ran across the living room until I came to the door and just halfway up the staircase, I felt my smile widen and tears fill my eyes.

"My boys."

"You're finally here!" Freddie proclaimed. My legs raced directly up the stairs and Freddie, Brian, Roger and John all gathered me at the center in a long awaited Queen group hug.

All I felt were arms wrapped around me tightly, kisses all over my head and face and gentle hair and back strokes. I don't even know how long we were in that hug for but I didn't care, all I cared about was the fact my boys were here all together. When we finally separated I finally got a good look at all four of them.

They were all so young and vibrant just like how I first saw them back in concert long before I became an intern, I would like to think they were now the same ages they were when they first played at the Rainbow back in 1974. Long hair and all.

"I can't believe you four are here." I praised.

"And we can't believe you're here. And with your long hair again, was this when you were most happy?" asked Brian.

"If by that you mean when I first became Miami's intern? Yeah, best day of my life. Do you guys hate it?"

"No darling we've loved you no matter what your hair length is." Freddie said as he stroked the ends of my hair.

"I only just hope you didn't bring along any extreme surprises. Belly button rings, more tattoos." Deacy teased me. I chuckled but felt tears fall down my face.

"Aww lovie what is it?" Roger cooed as I felt him rub my shoulder. All four of them looking at me with those concerned puppy dog eyes they all knew how to do.

"I'm sorry. It's just—I missed you four so much." They all awed as Freddie first took me in his arms and said with his head leaning against mine.

"I know darling. It seems like it's been forever since the five of us were together."

"Coming from you Fred you have no idea." I wept as I gripped onto him as tight as I could, burying my face into his long black hair which softly tickled my face.

God if there's anything I missed about Freddie, it was his warm hugs. They were always so warm and inviting, anyone who was lucky enough to be given any sign of affection from this loveable man was considered lucky, and I was fortunate to be one of those people, and now finally after almost 60 years, I was able to feel that affection once more.

We were now upstairs in the master bedroom to do some private catching up.

"Alright sister dear, come here you." Deacy said. I smiled and immediately went into his arms and he embraced me. As all of you know, after Freddie's death, Deacy was the one to take it the hardest. So much so that he hardly played at any Queen gigs except for maybe three occasions then by 1997 he officially retired and no one had heard from him since.

The guys and I respected his decision so in order to make sure he was alright, I kept in contact with Veronica and would occasionally ask how Deacy was doing as well as the kids. I had learned that the two of them had two more kids, Luke and Cameron and the two of them had been successful in their own ways, all of the Deacy kiddies had, especially Luke who followed in his dad's footsteps and played in a band of his own.

In fact with the permission of the parents, I had allowed my nephew Luke to play at a few of my tours, and god just seeing him play reminded me so much of his dad, not to mentioned he looked so much like him.

And it was an honor to play with a second generation of Deacon.

The sad news of Deacy's passing came to Jack and I from Laura on a cold November day in 2035. Out of the two of us, Jack was the most heartbroken because he not only lost a brother but his idol and mentor.

We were invited to the burial by decree of the Deacy clan but I made sure that through some makeup and wigs that Jack and I weren't recognized by press because we wanted this to be private. As Deacy would've wanted that.

"Ohh I've missed you so much (y/n)."

"Not as much as I missed you brother mine."

It was then my attention turned towards the last 2 members of Queen, the remaining members I kept working with till the end. Brian May and Roger Taylor.

Together in our lives after Freddie's death and Deacy's retirement, I had been there for everything Queen got to accomplish, and they did the same for me. In fact it was Brian who bestowed upon me my plaque to be initiated into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame before I was given my star right above Queen's.

I was also involved with some of the work they did for a little movie called "Bohemian Rhapsody", and they helped become a part of my movie "Set it all free Angel". I first turned my attention to Brian.

It had been almost 10 years since my movie came out and 20 for Queen's film Bohemian Rhapsody. I was in my home studio working on my next upcoming album when I had received a call from Anita telling me that Brian had passed away at the age of 93. It was a peaceful passing so he wasn't suffering or in pain which I was thankful for in a way, he's suffered through so much that if I wanted him to go out, it would have to be peacefully in his sleep.

The world was devastated at losing such an inspiring man. Not only in the music industry, but for his work in astrophysics, as well as the animal programs that he's helped funded and laws he helped raise awareness for.

When he died, I took over the business in his name and within 3 years; I finally helped get laws of abusing, harming or killing animals to be illegal and anyone caught doing that wouldn't get misdemeanors. They would face legal full sentencing of 20-50years in Federal prison. On the night the laws passed and I along with Brian's partnering animal rehab centers signed off on the law, I went to Brian's grave and told him everything.

I immediately glomped him into a hug and held onto his waist tightly. He embraced me back just as tight as I was holding him, me humming lovingly as I buried my face into his chest feeling him stroke down my hair. After what felt like forever, he separated from me and stared down at me with those loving hazel blue eyes of his as he placed both his hands at the top of my head before stroking them downward against each side of my head and ending by cupping my face in his hands.

"I am so proud of everything you've done (Y/n). I saw it all, thank you for continuing my legacy for animal rights."

"You taught me everything I needed to know about being kind and caring towards all creatures, so much so you helped inspire me to do my own animal rehabilitations and rescues. I just—wish I could've been there for you when you......"

"It was beyond your control love. But I didn't suffer. I knew you loved me, and would've done anything to come see me had you known. I never blamed you, so stop blaming yourself." I nodded as tears slipped down my face but with his thumbs he wiped them away before hugging me once more. I felt him kiss my temple before cupping the side of my face once more to kiss my nose.

Even as I got older and we were both in our senior years, he never once stopped with the nose pecks. I smiled and Eskimo kissed him before he pressed his forehead against mine. It was then I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned to my right to see Roger standing before me.

Besides Freddie's death, I think the most devastating thing for me was when Roger died. It was about a year after Brian's death when I had gotten a frantic call from my godson Rufus that Roger had been taken to the hospital because of a stroke. Without hesitating, I got into the car and raced to West London Medical Hospital, where I met up with the Taylor pride.

I was frantic with anxiety and fear that I would lose yet a 3rd member of Queen. Over 48hrs passed when Rog finally regained consciousness and I was sitting right there by his bedside holding his hand. He spoke so softly it was like whispers on the wind and the only thing he wanted to do was go outside.

Reluctantly the doctors allowed it so my godchildren, and his wife Sarina took him out to the hospital garden and allowed me some one on one time with him. But I didn't know that that would be the last time they would ever get to talk to him. The last words he ever spoke to me were and I still remember it to this day, even up here in heaven.

"Brian and Freddie have come to collect me, they send out their love to you and Deacy. Look after the old bastard for us." And I literally felt his life slip away from my hand as he died right there in front of me.

For months I was depressed. I was allowed to go to the funeral and speak my eulogy and I sang at his funeral, this time my own rendition of Phil Collins' song 'You'll be in my heart.' It was also because of his funeral that Deacy and I got even closer than we had in years.

He had secretly gone to both Brian and Roger's funeral but it didn't take till Rog passed for him to physically approach me and we both just wept and cried from losing a father, a brother, a great friend together.

Finally when I finally gained the strength, me and the Taylor children all took a picnic up where Roger was born and just looked out beyond the fields of where his childhood home was and reminisced on all the wonderful memories we had of our father.

And it was from his death I produced my album 'Papa Lion' and dedicated it to him; 'To my Papa Lion, and all the other father lions out there. Keep protecting your children no matter what'.

"You gonna get into these arms or what love?" he asked me. I spoke not a word but felt tears in my eyes as I raced up and buried myself into his neck and dirty blonde almost brunette hair. He held me and spun me around, kissing all over my face humming and moaning lovingly.

When he finally set me down, he cupped my face just like Brian did but he gently leaned forward and very gingerly headbutted my forehead and the two of us nuzzled each other, rubbing our noses together.

Like a father lion and his cub reuniting with each other at last.

I held onto his wrists which still cupped the sides of my face and just allowed my tears to fall out but I couldn't stop smiling.

"I hope those are happy tears." He said to me. I sniffled and nodded.

"Yeah the—these are....ha-happy tears." I choked out.

"You know you don't have to be so strong around me, right lovie?" It was then I just broke down and wept as I embraced him. "Shhh, shh. I'm here my lion cub, I'm here. Papa lion is here." He whispered in my ear.

"God I have waited so long for you to say that." I whimpered out to hear him softly laugh and just hug me tighter.

"Oh my darlings.....my heart.....it's too full!" We heard Fred exclaim out dramatically. We both laughed as I nuzzled deeper into my papa lion's chest, happy to finally be reunited with them.

After finally calming down, we were all just sitting around the master bedroom. I was up against the couch leaning against Deacy's legs as he was currently brushing and braiding my hair.

"So you guys continuing to rock it out here in Heaven?" I asked.

"Don't you know it darling. Every good singer who has helped made a difference comes up here and we continue to live a peaceful eternity doing what we were born to do. Be performers." Freddie stated.

"In fact we just had our concert the other night. We got to perform alongside the Beatles." Said Roger.

"Shut up! The Beatles?!"

"You know it love, Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr." Said Brian.

"Wow, I wish I could've seen it." I said.

"You will darling, we perform our concerts every single night. And it's always a mix mash of artists and bands collaborating together to perform the Greatest Heavenly Rock 'n Roll concert." Said Fred.

"Now that you're here poppet, you'll get the chance to perform with the best of the best." Said Deacy. I was flabbergasted.

"Holy......" I couldn't even finish it because I was just so shocked to think that I would be performing with the greatest artists long before my time and bands I wish I had the chance to record or perform alongside with. The guys all chuckled at me and I said.

"So that's why David and Elton were here."

"Mm-hmm. We're all performing together in tonight's show. Three artists of the 70's decade for the first time ever sharing the stage together." Said Brian.

"Ohh man what people would've killed to see that in person. I mean yeah you guys performed at the same venue like we did with Live Aid or did some recordings together but never all three of you guys on stage at once." I said.

"That's how it works around here." Spoke Deacy as he finished the last strand of my braid. I thanked him and observed the braid he had done and I commented.

"You've gotten better Deacy."

"Laura was good practice. My baby girl always wanted her hair braided."

"She may have gotten that from me, sorry." He playfully scowled at me but I cheekily stuck my tongue out at him. "Say Fred, where's Jim at? I figured if you were here, he would be too."

"Oh that man of mine, he's out tending the garden, come have a look." He escorted me to the back window and there I saw a field of flowers as far as the eye could see.

"Whoa. He's done all of that?"

"Been doing it since 2010 darling. Always a hard worker my husband. When he first came, I was worried he wouldn't like this appearance of mine, after all I didn't have my tache and my hair was much shorter than when I first met him."

"Jim loves you Freddie. He loves you no matter what you'd look like."

"And I did know. Turns out he's got a long hair kink." He whispered to me which made me choke out a laugh.

"Seriously?" He nodded ecstatically and that's when Deacy spoke up.

"We're still here Fred, no need to hear any of that."

"Oh god Deacy don't act so innocent. After all you were the one who wrote a song about pre-ejaculation." Deacy's mouth just gaped before turning stoic, and of course Rog and Bri were laughing their asses off. He turned to me and I shrugged saying.

"He's got a point."

"Okay yeah ha-ha fuck all of you."

"Oh come off it John. We mean no harm by it." Roger teased

"At least it's better than a car fucking song." Deacy fired back.

"That's not funny!" Roger proclaimed.

"It is kinda funny." Deacy sassed back.

"Okay, okay enough both of you. I had enough of your arguments to last an entire lifetime. I don't need to relive it now when I just got here." I stated.

"Sorry love." They both choired out.

"Oh (y/n), I do have a surprise for you though." Brian spoke up. I looked at him and said,

"What kind of surprise?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?" He said as he walked right up to me.

"If you tell me, I'll still act surprise." He chuckled and wrapped an arm around me.

"C'mon love, let's head outside." We soon went down the stairs and headed out of the house.

Brian lead me to an open field about a half mile away from the house. There was nothing but green for miles ahead.

"Brian what's this about?"

"You'll see." He then took his index finger and thumb and curled them inward like pinchers before placing them against his lips letting out a loud whistle. We stood there for a moment that was until I heard a bark. A very familiar bark. No it—it couldn't be.

Soon jogging up the hill about a mile away was a German Shepherd. His familiar traditional fur coat shined under the sun as he looked right at me. He let out a couple of barks and soon several more dogs came running up beside him.

They consisted of a golden retriever, 2 pit-bulls, 3 huskies (1 traditional black and white, another grey and white and the last one an auburn coloring), a collie, and 4 Labradors (2 blacks, a tan and one brown).

With each dog that this pack had, I knew every single one of them. I turned to Brian baffled and he just grinned at me before nodding telling me that they were who I thought they were. I turned back around and the German Shepherd let out a bark. I then let instinct take over and ran as I cried out.

"Bucky!" He soon came running after me, as did all the other dogs barking and panting as they all ran down the hill towards me. "C'mon kids! Come on!" I proclaimed. Each dog was running as fast as they could but Bucky and the black and white husky Shasta were leading the pack. "C'mon kids!" Bucky let out some barks as he raced ahead of Shasta and we met half-way.

Bucky leapt with both paws to my shoulders knocking me down onto the ground.

"Ohh Buck. I can't believe it's you! Ohh look at you boy! Good boy Buck!" A second later Shasta came up to me whimpering happily as his tail wagged. "Oh Shasta baby boy look at you! Hi~ Hi baby boy~." Soon enough my entire dog pack was all up on me grunting and whimpering happily as they all began to tackle me, wanting my attention and love.

Now while you all know I've had Bucky and Sammy as the family pets for Jack and the kids. The other dogs have a different story. The two pitbull brothers that I had named Titan and Bear were rescue dogs when I was a part of an actual rescue mission with one of my animal charities in saving dogs from a Mexican dogfight.

Whenever I was free from touring and recording, I made sure they were well taken care of and even let them stay at my home for awhile before they were finally adopted by a good family.

My triple threat huskies Shasta, Maya (the grey and white) and Eevee (auburn) were actually Kelly's dogs. Shortly after she left for college, she wanted to fill her house with dogs so she adopted these three and very often when she would visit or we would visit her, these troublemakers were always there. Sweet and loveable but stubborn little buggers but I wouldn't take them either way.

The Labradors were also rescue dogs that I helped out. The black one Raider and white one Rowdy were just left abandoned tied up in the backyard of their owners homes. The owners had abandoned them and left them for dead in the hottest summer of the year. But thanks to my team we got them out, sheltered and good homes but I occasionally checked in on them since I couldn't let them go.

The brown lab Cleopatra and the other black lab Midnight were once stray dogs till my son Freddie found them and gave them some food and water. Since he didn't have the heart to turn them to the shelter he adopted them. They even started their own little family since Midnight and Cleopatra were mates together and had many puppies together.

And finally the beautiful Collie was Jezebel. Jezebel was something special because she was actually my nana's dog. I hadn't seen her since I was probably five years old, she was already an old girl growing up but from what I remember, she was so maternal with me.

Whenever my nana was busy with something, she knew she could trust Jezebel with me.

After giving every single dog my attention I finally managed to stand up and see all the dogs in my life standing in a row.

"Jezzy, Bucky, Sammy, Titan, Bear, Shasta, Maya, Eevee, Cleo, Midnight, Rowdy and Raider. I don't believe it. Good doggies. My lucky dog pack. I can't believe you're all here. How did you find them all?"

"I was out strolling wanting to observe the stars when I found Bucky and Sammy. They immediately recognized me and just came running right for me. Soon enough they brought me to meet the rest of the dogs you've known and rescued. I was surprised about the collie but I knew she wouldn't be among them if she wasn't a part of your family."

"Yeah, Jezebel was my nana's dog. I called her Jezzy cause I couldn't quite pronounce her name. She was like my guardian dog angel. Always maternal until she passed away of cancer when I was just 5 years old." I walked up to her and pet her head and she leaned up against me. "She even saved me from almost being attacked by a stray dog one summer."

"Well I'm very glad she did." Brian said as he walked up and stroked her head and she gave his hand a friendly sniff and lick.

"And you took care of all of them?"

"Well I'm an animal activist through and through. If Freddie takes care of every cat that comes to Heaven, I thought I should take care of the animals I've grown fond of, but also the animals my little protegee has taken on herself. As well as the family dogs." I smiled and Brian and thanked him with a hug and he gratefully hugged me back.

As the day drew to a close and nightfall came, the boys had escorted me over to the Heavenly Concert hall. If we want to look at it scale wise, imagine it as Wembley Stadium during the time of Live Aid back in 1985. We drove in a royal golden carriage fit only for her royal majesties themselves.

"Wow, it's just like Wembley stadium."

"It is in a way, but it can fit an infinite amount of people. Any and all are welcome to watch us perform." Said Deacy.

"And we won't need to do soundchecks or anything?"

"Nope. This is heaven darling. Up here everything works to the full capacity and capability. No have to worry ever again about sound checks or power outages." Freddie stated. Our carriage soon stopped at the back entrance and the doors magically opened.

I stepped out first followed by Deacy, Roger, Brian and Freddie. Deacy wrapped his arm around me and guided me into the building and the five of us followed the sign down to the basement level where the dressing rooms were.

And it was like they said, I saw dozens of stars with the names of so many artists and bands before and during my time. Elvis Presley, Janis Joplin, the Beatles, David, Elton, Led Zeppelin, REO Speedwagon, George Michael, Phil Collins, Bob Dylan, and everyone and anyone you could think of.

"And here we are darling, your dressing room awaits." Roger said as he stood before a red door with a golden star with wings on each side that read in bold black letters my stage name ROCK ANGEL. He opened it up and I was in awe.

Inside was a very large room filled with furniture, a huge makeup station with large mirror decored with lamplights around the perimeter of it.

On the left side of the dressing room were hundreds of different outfit's I've worn throughout the years. Everything was there on hangers along with some of the hats I wore, fedora's, cowgirl, and my famed flat caps of various different colors and styles.

While on the right; I could see just music instruments like the Red Special Brian had made for me up against a special holder up along the wall right by my makeup stand.

"Is this my....."

"Go on and have a look darling." I heard Freddie say in my ear.

"Okay. I finally have my own mall." I walked in and was just in awe at everything. It looked like heaven had taken my master bedroom from my first home I had after becoming the Rock Angel and just put it all here.

I walked inside and said.

"Ooo, very nice shoes." I pointed out on the shoe wrack seeing some of the styles of shoes I've worn. From combat boots, to Adidas', flats, and even the high-heeled boots that Deacy always wore during the 1970's.

"We're glad you like them darling. Why don't you go around that corner and press the black button along the dresser." Deacy said. I walked further in and reached a dresser and found the black button. When I pressed it, a couple of shelves slowly opened up revealing almost every pair of sunglasses I've always worn.

"Oh my god! I've missed wearing these." I picked up a pair of my ray ban black and gold framed sunglasses. "Didn't I make these look good?" I quickly turned to see the guys were gone. "Guys?"

"Over here love." I heard Brian's voice say. I walked towards the right to see my boys standing or sitting along some of the foot stools.

"Oh there you all are. Ohh nice amps." I couldn't help but see the amps up along the wall. "I—I'm just...." Before I could continue a remote was tossed over at me by Roger as he said.

"Before you even say anything else. Type in combination 2-1-2." I muttered the combination to myself as I pressed the numbers and soon the closet before us opened and soon revolving around were various guitars and bass guitars, shelves soon opened revealing several pairs of drumsticks each imprinted with my name on them.

I had no words.

"Umm....this is.....I can't—" I jumped back a bit as the top shelves suddenly opened revealing two different microphones. One was a basic black but it was bedazzled with red gems while the other one was pure gold with golden gems.

"Elton and I had a little hand of having your microphones designed." Said Freddie with a modest shrug.

"I mean....guys this is......unbelievable. And this is all mine?"

"Oh darling you should see ours. It's practically the entire mansion back home."

"Each star that comes here is given the full custom of what they've enjoy back on Earth. And since you've favored how you once had your rotating dressers back in 2011, it's all here for you but advanced into your instruments as well." Said Roger.

"And if anyone has any suggestion like if they're close to another artist, they can submit some suggestions of what should be in said artists dressing room." Brian spoke up.

"Aww you guys, I love you." I said as I came up to them and we got into a group hugged.

"We love you too (Y/n) darling. Now hurry up and get ready, the concert is about to begin." The boys left me to my own business. I walked up to my clothes rack and went through every style and decided that if I was to do my first concert in Heaven, I might as well wear exactly what I wore for my first concert as the Rock Angel.

After getting ready and doing my makeup the same way Freddie had done for me that day in Madison Square Garden, I picked up my Red Special and put it around my neck and left my dressing room.

"The Rock Angel is back." I looked up to see the boys standing across me in front of their dressing room, dressed to the T like they had at the they did at the Odeon theater Christmas Eve 1975. I smiled and said.

"Well look at you guys, it seems like only yesterday I was sneaking my friends into the house while Joanna and Graham were at their Christmas party just to watch you guys live at the Hammersmith Oden theater." I sassed.

"Thank you love, now c'mon time to head to the stage." Roger said. The lads cheered and I followed behind as we all walked back up the stairs and went through the corridors of backstage. Hundreds upon hundreds of artists were getting themselves ready to go up and perform.

I watched as the boys did their typical body warmups to get themselves pumped up when I felt a nudge at my arm.

"You seem quiet poppet, everything okay?" I looked up to see Deacy standing beside me.

"You said anybody whose anybody comes to see these shows right?" He nodded and I said solemnly, "Do....do you think my family, like my mum and dad know that I'm here now? That I'm here performing?" I felt him wrap his arm around my shoulder and he said.

"It's possible. Anytime a new artist or band comes here, it's fully announced far and wide throughout Heaven. So there's a good chance they might be out there in the audience."

"I hope so. I just want to show them what I've achieved, I want them to be proud of me."

"They are poppet. Just like we are." He embraced me in a one armed hug leaning his head against mine.

"I really have missed these moments between us Deacy."

"So have I. And I've got a hell of a lot of comforting to catch up on."

"Well now's a good start."

"Oi you two! Are we going to perform or not?" The two of us smiled as we heard Roger's voice cry out to us. My brother looked down at me and he said.

"C'mon, let's go do our thing." I nodded and we headed towards the guys.

*3rd Person POV*

Once again it was concert time. Every soul that had passed into heaven that was a fan of Rock and Roll or music in general came from far and wide to come to the concert of concerts, even bigger than the Earthly event that Live Aid gave the world.

Generations of artists and musicians that had come from around the world from many different backgrounds came to this very stadium to give the performance of their afterlives. Thousands, almost a million people poured into the stadium as the lights were flashing and doing their test run for each artist that would perform that night.

Soon Bob Geldof came onto the stage and everyone applauded for him.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Welcome once again to the Heaven's Rock and Roll concert." Everyone applauded and cheered holding up signs of their favorite artists or bands that would be performing tonight. "It gives me great honor to announce that we recently were given a new arrival, but I won't give it away on who it is." The audience crowd because they wanted to hear who it was as Bob continued, "I'll leave that to the band who know her best. So without further ado I would like to bring up on stage the first band performance of this evening's festivities. These lads I knew personally and they helped make one of the biggest rock concerts even greater than I could ever imagine. These four individually talented young men rose to the stardom in the early 1970's before exploding into the worldwide phenomenon by the 1980's. Ladies and Gentlemen please bow before her royal majesties that is Queen!"

The crowd roared with applause as Bob left the stage and the stage grew dark. Soon the opening notes for "Now I'm here" began playing and everyone cheered louder as they began clapping in rhythm. Those who have seen and grew up seeing Queen live, knew exactly how to react and behave during a Queen concert and those who got to know Queen up here in heaven got a taste of what it would've been like had they seen them in person with all four of them up on stage.

Soon Freddie's silhouette and voice echoed through the speakers as he began to sing the song. When the song began to pick up, the lights on stage exploded as did fire from the sides of the stage as all four members of Queen were finally revealed to the crowd.

Freddie lead with the vocals and his mates and brothers backed him up on not only the vocals but their instruments, and ever the frontman he was, strutted the stage like it was his as his voice overpowered and reached out into the audience with a force unlike anything.

By the end of the song, Freddie proclaimed into the microphone.

"Thank you! Thank you, good evening everybody!" The crowd cheered as Freddie continued, "Oh it looks magnificent out there tonight. Okay my darlings, right now. Right now, we're going to take you for the first time ever we're taking you all to the battlefield. This is called Ogre Battle!"

The boys continued to play a few more songs like 'White Queen', 'Killer Queen', 'Bohemian Rhapsody', 'Don't stop me now' and 'Son and Daughter' included with Brian's famous guitar solo giving Deacy and Freddie enough time to change clothes for the next half of the performance. Freddie now wearing the famed black satin outfit with his chest exposed and diamond fingernailed glove as well as the chain glove on the other.

"Yes thank you, thank you very much. Featuring Brian May on guitar!" Brian took a bow as the spotlight shined on him and the crowd cheered. "Now then my darlings, as I'm sure everyone's heard we have a new arrival. A very special girl to all four of us. How would you all like to meet her?"

The crowd roared with applause and soon Roger began doing one single rhythmic beat. Hearing the beat made the entire audience clap in that single beat rhythm.

"She first rose to the spotlight in the summer of 1981. A bright, charismatic young woman whose music has touched the lives of millions. To us she wasn't a shadow of our fame, she was an equal partnership. The like of which we had never knew we could ever ask for. Ladies and gentlemen and everyone up in the balcony give it up for Heaven's very own Rock Angel, Mrs. (Y/n) Kline!"

From up on the catwalk above the stage, the silhouette of the Rock Angel herself came up and it appeared that she actually had angel wings sprouting from her back as she began the first verse of her famed song "Set it all Free".

By the chorus, the screen lifted up and she hopped off the catwalk and gratefully fell from the 10ft catwalk onto center stage playing her Red Special as her boys backed her up as they always did whenever they performed this song together.

And seeing the two artists perform together, Queen and the Rock Angel, the crowd was in pure excitement bouncing up and down and crying out the lyrics to the well known song that the Rock Angel's 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.

But none were more happy to perform once again than the artists that were on stage. It had been forever since it was the five of them together up on stage and they couldn't help but look at each other. As the guitar solo came up, it turned into a guitar battle between the Rock Angel herself and Brian May which got the crowd really pumped up.

By the end of the song, everyone was chanting out 'Angel! Angel! Angel!'

"Hello Rock and roll heaven how's everyone doing tonight!?" The crowd welcomed her with a roar of applause. "God I can't believe I'm here performing with my boys once again. And right now we'd like to bring out a special guest for this next number." She turned to Deacy who nodded and began playing his bassline for "Under Pressure" which got the crowd applauding louder.

"This man is a well-known legend and the birth of a true 'flamboyant' hard rocker. And a very close friend of mine." Freddie started.

"Six time Grammy award winner, 4 time Brit award winner, actor, musician. Everyone put your hands together for Mr. David Bowie!" (Y/n) proclaimed into the mic.

It was then Freddie and (Y/n) began singing the first part of the song as at the center stage a circular hole began to open and soon rising up onto the stage was David Bowie himself. He wore a royal blue suit with a black undercoat suit shirt as well as the business white shirt. A light blue tie and black shoes.

He soon began his line of the first bridge as Freddie and the Rock Angel backed him up. When the second part of the song came up after Freddie's little vocalization, David gave the gesture for (Y/n) to take the second part of the song. And as she always performed it, she would lowly sing in her alto range before suddenly belting out to the perfect volume as she would hold the note out for as long as she could letting the two legends back her up.

Just like the record Freddie and Roger softly sung the first part of the break, then David came in before (Y/n) belted out the why vocals before the song picked right back up. It was something that could only be seen in Heaven. Three legendary singers performing one song.

David Bowie, Freddie Mercury and (Y/n) Kline the Rock Angel.

The three lead singers stood side by side with each other with David on the left, Freddie in the middle and (y/n) to the right. The three in almost rehearsed synchronicity began to sidestepped across the stage as all three voices blended the bridge that it could give one an eargasm.

Agreeing with each other and knowing what she could do to close the song, both David and Freddie stepped back with (y/n) completely unaware as she just allowed the song to consume her.

At the final note, she let out a proud controlled belt that was first heard at Freddie's tribute concert and it almost seemed like the sun was rising as the stage was lit up in a heavenly glow as she held the note. The entire audience was in an uproar as they gave a standing ovation to the Rock Angel herself.

She turned around and saw the five older men smiling at her and applauding her for a phenomenal performance that they have missed so dearly.

The concert continued as Elton John soon came up on stage and together he, Freddie and (y/n) sang 'I'm still standing' a song that was personal to all three of them in some shape or form but they knew this was the perfect song for them all to sing.

After a few more Queen songs, with the allowance of their beloved Rock Angel since her set was about to come up after theirs, she allowed them to stay and be her band as she would perform her hit songs before the souls of Heaven.

Songs like 'Who I am', 'So good,' 'Bridge of light', 'Rock angel', her rendition of 'Somebody to love', 'We'll be together', and with her boys already up there with her they did a few more duets of Queen songs like 'Friends will be friends', 'Spread your wings', 'Fat Bottomed girls', and 'Jailhouse Rock'.

Finally their time was up and as 'God save the Queen' played through the speakers, all five of them stood side by side each other and bid the crowd a goodbye and thank you.

After watching several performances from backstage, and when the concert finally came to a close it was time for the after party. So just outside in the back a beautiful garden was set up with refreshments and plenty of drinks to fit everyone's needs and all the performers of the night came out to talk amongst one another and to celebrate another well-performed concert.

As well as to welcome their newest achievement.

*My POV*

Oh my god. That was a thrill rush, and now being here at the after party I saw literally everyone. Elvis, Janis, the Beatles, Little Richard, Elton, David, Hendrix, everyone in rock and roll big names were gathered around this beautiful garden.

As I went to go grab some water I felt a hand tap my shoulder and there stood John Lennon himself.

"So you are the famous Rock Angel?" I swallowed my water and was completely star-struck.

"Y-yeah I.....Mr. Lennon I....."

"Please call me John."

"Okay, John. Can I just say.....just between us that you were always my favorite Beatle out of the group."

"Coming from you that's a huge honor. And now I can finally rub it into Paul's face the bugger." I laughed and that's when I heard a female voice say.

"Alright let me at her, where is she?" And there donned with her famous fur coat, tall Russian-like hat and red circular shades was Janis Joplin herself. "And there she is. The one female rocker better than me." She spoke as she came up to me.

"Oh no Mrs. Jop—"

"Ah-ah. Mrs. Joplin is not my name. Call me Janis baby girl." I blushed and she wrapped an arm around me and said, "You know, you and I aren't so different kid."

"How so?"

"Well we both struggled in our families and personal lives, got together with some male rockstars to form a partnership before splitting off to have our freedom. The only difference is, is that I wish I had your strength. I decided to call it quits with heroin being my way to kick the bucket."

"You were someone I did look up to. I mean yeah you had your struggles, but hell you didn't take shit from no one. When conservative minds at the time wanted you to do it their way, you said....."

"'Fuck you. I'm doing it my own way!'" She finished off which made the two of us laugh. "Yah know something baby girl, I like you. Promise me for Lady's night you'll do a song with me?"

"It would be an honor Janis." She smiled and hugged me tightly.

"Alright my darlings, may we have everyone's attention?" Freddie's voice soon spoke up as he was now standing on top of a table. Everyone looked up and as the boys of Queen stood up front Freddie continued, "First of all magnificent show all of you. So cheers my lovely darlings." Everyone of us raised our glasses in the air saying 'cheers'.

"We'd also love to specifically say a wonderful show for our newest arrival," Brian spoke up. He turned to me and extended his hand out for mine. I took it and he gently pulled me up front so that everyone could see me.

"Our beloved Rock Angel herself, (Y/n) Kline." Roger spoke up as he smiled warmly down at me.

"To the Rock Angel!" Deacy stated as he raised his cocktail glass in the air.

"To the Rock Angel!" Everyone choired at me. I bashfully smiled and said.

"Thank you, it was an honor to see most of you perform tonight, and it was great to perform with someone of you once again after so many years. I hope I have the privilege to perform with every single soul here." I said.

We then raised our glasses once more and the mingling and partying continued long into the night.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post). 

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use). 

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban. 

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions). 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed. 

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate! 

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore. 

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks. 

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all. 

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…" 

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out. 

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

[thesmokingguns]

Phone Tag

Word count: 3512

Requested: “My idea was that the reader thought Kelly was cheating on her on tour, and when he comes home, he finds her really upset and comforts her and assures her that he only loves her”

Requested by @littlemisscare-all

A/N: I just want to thank @littlemisscare-all for the request and letting me message her about questions I had. Kelly Nickels is a new character I’m writing and she was patient with my questions and so helpful. This is a little longer than my usual one shots so I hope you like it. I have three requests I need to write on top of my regular stuff I want to put out so feel free to make a request but I’m going to say the time might be up to a week now. I also have a tag list you can be added to by just messaging me or filling out the form. Please let me know what you think ❤️

Tag List: @thenobodies-inc , @littlemisscare-all , @agroupiewhore, @ayablackwood

Ring, Ring, Ring

The constant sound of the phone trying to connect with room 828 was filling my head. The high pitched sound bouncing around your mind as you wished he’d  pick up. After another minute of the phone going unanswered you hung up, wiping my sweat filled palms on the denim dress hastily.

You could see your fingers trembling, the anxiety of the situation coming out in physical ailment as your trembling hands started to get numb. You shook out your hands, flexing them, cracking them, pushing them together, anything to just calm yourself down enough to feel them again. Your heart was beating so fast that it felt like it had turned on its engine and got lodged in your throat when it pressed the gas. You couldn’t swallow down the pounding so you tried instead to take a gulp of air. Breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Even though you felt like you were not getting enough air when you breathed through your nose you continued anyway trying to calm your body that seemed to be fighting you.  You were trying anything to try and stop the full fledged anxiety attack from coming on.

You stepped back into the store, trying not to make eye contact with your friend and coworker as you started to fold the sweaters  on the front side table. Your hands needed to stay busy as you tried to avert your eyes from anyone, tears pooling in them. You couldn’t think about the situation or you’d start crying. But fuck, it had been almost a week since You had heard from your boyfriend. Your hand went to my pocket, pulling out the ripped out notebook paper Kelly had given you with the name, date, room number and phone number for each hotel. He was supposed to be in Phoenix in room 828 at the Hilton Hotel. Which you had already called seven times throughout the day without any response.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Your coworker touched your shoulder and you let out a sob, hands flying to your face. The feeling of someone touching you after the last month of being alone was too much. You broke feeling the loneliness blanketing over you, covering you. Your coworker was leading you to the breakroom, thankful no one was in the shop to see you have a complete mental breakdown.

He had promised you that you would talk every day; he had seen the nervous look in your eyes when the guys talked about the tour. All the girls that would be throwing themselves at the band. They were all about the three fundamentals: sex, drugs and rock n roll. How were you going to compete with something you weren't there to see?

“Jesus Fucking Christ, where the fuck is that paper?” Kelly was tearing apart the tour bus looking for a yellow piece of legal paper that you had written down all the numbers to call you on. He had lost it a week ago after he had drunkenly started a shot game with Phil that night and that had proved to be a horrible mistake.

When he had woken up, on the kitchen floor of the tour bus, a hangover so bad he wanted to fling himself into the highway all he could think about was calling the person that he loved and telling her about his night. The sound of her voice coaxing the hangover out of him and filling him up with the love she had for him. He had pushed himself off the floor, grabbing his cigarettes from his jacket and digging in the inside pocket for the list of numbers, but the paper was gone.

It had been six days since he had lost the numbers and as much as he tried to remember a phone number he couldn’t even think of one. He had expected a phone call to explain everything but the problem was that phone call had never come. This was just another layer of frustration that Kelly couldn't figure out. For the first few weeks of the tour he had gotten the calls at the hotel but a night before he lost the number the call hadn’t come in.

So now, being the very logical, even headed, and not complete maniac that he was, Kelly was tearing apart every single part of the tour bus. Ripping open trash bags, pulling apart beds, and crawling under the table that had a weird sticky substance underneath. As he pushed half drank beer cans aside he saw the flap of yellow sticking out. His heart leapt to his throat as he snatched up the paper, flipping it over and groaning audibly. The paper had gotten saturated. One number was partially visible with only a couple numbers melting together.

Walking off the tour bus he headed over to the payphone, setting a handful of change on the metal bottom as he started to dial different combinations of the number hoping that he could finally reach his girlfriend. Hoping that her lack of calls to him didn’t mean they had broken up or what if she had met someone else? She did have that fucking girlfriend who didn’t like him. What if she had gone out to The Roxy and met someone else?

He gripped the paper so hard in his hand as the phone rang and he thought of you with someone else. He needed to talk to you,

You were walking home, unable to work as your mind went a million miles a minute. Your heart thumping so loudly that your own thoughts were muted and just scenarios were popping in your head. Images of Kelly with his arm around another girl, disheveled hotel rooms with discarded clothes, his lips worshiping someone else's body. You stopped on the sidewalk closing your eyes, fists tightening as you told yourself not to scratch your arms. It was all in your head. This was all in your head and not real.

Another shaky step towards your apartment. Your eyes were on the payphone at the end of the block and you figured you could try one more time to call the hotel. Maybe when you heard his voice it would put out the fire of your mind. He could calm your anxiety, easing you from the panic attacks it caused and draw you in with the safety of his voice. He must have known how crazy you were going and when he finally talked to you he would have a logical explanation for why he had disappeared.

As you convinced yourself that he was going to answer this time, you could feel the burning bile in your gut start to be put out as the rational part of your mind tried to make a little room for you to have hope. The way your hands trembled as you took out a dime, sliding it into the slot and dialing the number, let you know that the temporary band aid your rational side had put on your anxiety wasn’t going to stick for very long. If Kelly didn’t answer it was going to be ripped off and you’d be left with the exposed wound that you would need to deal with..

Ring...Ring...Ri-

“Hello?” your heart caught in your throat, and you could feel your eyes widening as you heard a voice answer the phone on the other end, “Hello, is anyone there?” The very female voice that was answering the phone was not your boyfriend.

“Kelly?” his name left your lips, almost a whimper. All of the worst situations that you imagined could be happening in your head seemed to come to life now. It wasn’t just in your head, a woman was answering his hotel phone.

“Ohhhh, they’re in the shower. If you call back in an hour-” you hung up the phone. It took you four tries before you could get the receiver on the cradle because the shaking in your hand was running through your entire body now. You tried to crack your fingers, a weak attempt to get some control of the motions of your body.

In the shower. If he was taking a shower at 4pm what was he washing off of himself? Who was the girl who had answered the phone? Had he not answered because he had been so busy with her all day? You dry heaved in front of the payphone, sucking in air when nothing came out. You wanted to go home and hide, burying yourself under blankets until the weight of the sadness lifted. Not that you were sure it was ever going to lift because you had just caught him cheating on you.

It was a miracle that you made it to the apartment. You dropped your keys twice, your hands not working how they were supposed to. Your grip on them slipping and letting them fall through your fingers. Had you let Kelly fall through your fingers?

You hissed out a curse, shouldering into your apartment and locking the door behind you. You were off of work tomorrow so you could stay holed up inside the apartment for at least twenty four hours before anyone would think to call. That gave you time to wallow in your emotions and feel everything you needed to feel.

Looking around at the space it dawned on you that you would need to leave. Separate your things and get out of the city before he comes back to it. Which didn’t give you enough time at all because he would be back in two days for the LA show at the Whisky a Go Go, Where were you going to live? Maybe you could find a roommate or you could always stay with your best friend. She would let you in. There was so much to do and so much to figure out but you needed to lay down and figure it out from the comfort of the bed.

On the way to the bed you tripped over the phone you had kept beside it for the past few days hoping for Kelly to finally call you. You looked at the phone hanging off the hook, knowing if anyone called you they would just get the busy signal but you didn’t hang it back up. Kelly was too busy in some hotel room with a strange girl and he hadn’t bothered to call you in a week anyway. You needed to just get in bed and mourn your relationship. You’d move out tomorrow and start a new life without him.

Kelly hung up the phone, looking at his apartment phone number that the girl at the shop had just given to him. He had missed you by twenty minutes and from what he had just heard you were in bad shape.He sucked in his bottom lip as he dialed the home number. He would explain everything to you as soon as he had you on the phone. He could already picture you asking him if he had at least won the drinking game.

“What the fuck?” He looked at the phone when he got the busy signal. It had to be the right number. He had repeated the number twice to make sure that he got the correct number and now he was getting a busy signal. He dialed again, getting the same alert sound. Then again. And again. He stopped after constantly calling for ten minutes to take a breath. He was going to need to have a beer and try again.

He tried calling twenty minutes later, an hour, three hours, and before he went on stage for the show. His mind was thinking of how you could be on the phone for that long. He frowned as he grabbed his bass going over to the band's manager. He needed to get home sooner than the tour bus would take him.

You got out of the shower, wrapping your sweater around you over your nightgown. Your eyes skimmed the apartment where you had spent the last four hours cleaning like a maniac and separating everything. Your records were in a milkcrate by the door, along with a trash bag of all your clothes. Things like pots and pans didn’t seem worth fighting over. You would leave those for him. Even though you weren’t even sure if Kelly knew how to fry an egg.

Twirling a piece of hair around your finger you tried to calm the uneasy feeling filling you. He had been the one who hadn't answered your calls or called you. He was the one who had a girl answer the phone in his room. He wanted you to leave but he didn’t want to see the hurt he caused by telling you it was over. Your friends had all warned you about dating a rockstar so it wasn’t like you could expect much sympathy from them. But you had been with Kelly for over a year and hadn’t seen it coming. It felt like you were blindsided. To love someone so much had really just opened you up to the pain you were feeling now.

Moving to the bedroom you looked around the room, the pit of your stomach turning in sadness as you thought about this being the final time you sleep in this bed. The tears boiling up and tumbling down your face as you sat on his side, touching the pillow that he slept on. You could smell his aftershave and scent on his pillow just making you cry even harder. The feeling in the pit of your stomach growing as you missed someone who was gone.

Over your tears you didn’t hear the sound of the front door opening. You were wrapped around a pillow mind racing in a thick fog of all the reasons you weren’t good enough. Why couldn't he love you? Could anyone love you?

“Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” Arms were wrapped around you. You were being pulled onto a lap, hair pushed away from your tear stained face.

“K-Kelly?” It comes out weekly, almost afraid you’re hallucinating arms wrapped around you, fingers touching your tears, pushing the puddles that gathered on your skin with an expert flick of a thumb.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. What happened? Why are you so upset? Who do I need to fight?” He was trying to defuse the situation with humor to drag you out of your hysterics. But he was the one that had gotten you to this place.

Sitting up you pushed yourself off his lap, a frown forming on his face from this action. You could feel the way your hands were starting to go numb as you wiped your tears, knowing there was going to be a confrontation with him.

“I called you for a week, Kelly. I called all the numbers multiple times a day and you didn’t answer. You didn’t call me back.” The way he frowned at this didn’t go unnoticed by you. You took it as a sign of his guilt. He had been ignoring you on purpose. “And I called this afternoon and a girl answered from your hotel room.” He stood up suddenly shaking his head.

“No, no, no.” You rolled your eyes at his weak attempt to lie about the fact you had spoken to a girl that was in his room, “Oh fuck, we didn’t even check into the hotel today. I was on the tour bus looking for the list of numbers you had written down for me.” He was digging into his leather jacket pocket looking for the yellow paper. You were trying to process what he was saying.

“But they said you were in the shower when I asked for you.” You said with a frown, trying to process what he was saying. It would be easy to believe him, tryst him blindly and forget all the drama but there were so many things that just weren’t adding up. He produced the yellow list holding it up with the missing pieces and wet pen running into a blurred mix of ink.

“Call the hotel now. I’m obviously here with you. Maybe they heard you wrong?” He knew you needed real proof. He looked at the phone on the floor that was off the receiver, “I tried to call you today. I guess this explains the busy signal.” He moved to hang it back up.

“I called you and you didn’t answer all week and you didn’t even call me once.” You pointed out. “You’re on tour with all your horny band members and I’ve been out with you all before.” You didn’t want to ask him because you knew that he would answer you honestly. He couldn’t lie to you, even on little things he was always 100% honest. Which you had found out one night when you tried on a new dress and asked how you looked and he had told you the dress looked like a rejected extra from a Cyndi Lauper music video.

“I lost the phone numbers when I was drinking with Phil one night. It took me a week to find them on the bus.” He confessed. That story seemed pretty on par for who they were, “And are you asking if I was stupid enough to cheat on you?” At the words you went white, gripping the sheets. Kelly took in your reaction and knew that’s exactly what you were thinking had happened. “Listen, Y/N.” He moved over to the bed gripping your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs and giving him a soft smile, “I love you. Just you. And I wouldn’t do anything to ever lose your love. I spent a week trying to find a paper just so I could hear your voice. I was waiting for you to call all week, baby. Why didn’t you call me?” The soft way he spoke was melting the ice in your veins, calming you with the right touches and bringing you to the current situation happening in real life and not just in your head.

“I called you so much. I called all the hotels that you told me to call. But you never answered me.” You pointed to a crumpled up ball on the nightstand. Watching him grab it and smooth out the page of numbers.

“Oh shit.” He rubbed his chin and looked up at you with an almost embarrassed look. You knew exactly what that look was. He had made a mistake, “So, um, these hotels are out of order. I must have copied them backwards because this one.” He pointed at the last hotel you had called today. “Should have been here.” He pointed a few up and you sighed in relief. The tears still came flowing out but this time in relief, “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, baby.” He reached out, folding you to him. Your body was relaxed, allowing him to calm you with his back rubs and head kisses. Comforting you by holding you in his arms and reminding you that he loved you with his touch.

“I’m sewing my name and our telephone number into all your clothes tomorrow.” You muttered after a little while. He chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

“Next time, just come on tour with us. That way we never have to worry about playing phone tag.” You nodded your head listening to his heart beat. “We’re going to have to spend tomorrow morning unpacking your stuff. But I do respect your commitment to cut ties so thoroughly that you organized the records.” He got the laugh out of you that he was looking for. You sat up, shrugging your shoulders.

“I was just looking for an excuse to steal your Bowie records.” You teased him. He scoffed, pulling you to lay down beside him.

“I flew back here to be with you, Y/N. The least you could do is not threaten to steal my records.” Kelly pulled you close to him. “Do you feel better now that I’m back?” The concern in his voice warmed you to the core. You nodded your head at him. “Now you know you’re stuck with me and how wrapped around your finger I am.” You sighed out softly, eyes heavy as you felt like you could finally get some sleep after having a week of anxiety dreams and panic attacks preventing you from getting more than a tossing turning sleep for the week.

“Maybe next time send me a postcard to let me know you love me.” You said through a sleepy haze.

“Maybe I’ll train carrier ducks to send messages. Or learn how to do smoke signals.” A smile slipped out as you cuddled closer letting him lull you to sleep with his soft touches and soft mutters. He loved you, you could feel it. And that was all you needed

[krispytidalwavesheep]

Hi, if you are still in the writing mood could I ask for Zelda Spellman x fem!reader that's sweet and fluffy, because Zelda deserves happiness, please? Thank you!!!

Sorry it took me so long, I had a few personal problems to deal with, and online classes were a right bitch. I hope you like what I made of this prompt! I deleted everything I had written so far halfway through and started all over again, and hope that it is what you imagined! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were in love with Zelda Spellman. The sad thing about that, she wasn't in love with you. You have been friends for almost a century, best friends even, since you were the one constant in her life. No matter what happened, you were always there. You were always by her side, through that whole Blackwood ordeal, when she was with Marie, no matter what, no matter your feelings, you were always right by her side. And you always picked up the pieces, just like you were now. Zelda called you late one night, sobbing uncontrollably, saying something about Marie being gone. It took you just about five seconds to hang up and teleport right into her bedroom, where she was crying on her bed.

“Hey...” you just mumbled as you sat down next to her, but you were quite shocked when Zelda launched herself directly into your arms, crying even harder than before. You were hurting with her, biting back your own tears at seeing her so devastated. Yet, you didn't say anything at all, you just pulled her closer and started to stroke her back gently, waiting for her to calm down.

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Why does everyone leave me?” Zelda asked instead and your heart broke all over for her again.

“I'm still here, or am I not?” you asked gently and hugged her a bit tighter. Zelda froze and gently pulled herself out of your embrace to look at you. You could see the gears in her head turning and suddenly, you were scared. You hid your feelings for so long, did she finally realize?

“You...You are,” Zelda said dumbfounded and continued staring at you. Your heart started to pound in your chest and you were pretty sure she could hear it.

“But...why? Everyone leaves... why do you stay?” Zelda asked the one million dollar question and now it was your turn to freeze.

“I- Listen, Zelda, I don't think this is the right time...” you sigh and looked down at your lap. You couldn't confess to her right now, even though the urge was so strong. She was in love with Marie, and she just left, you couldn't tell her about your feelings. It wouldn't be fair. On the other hand... Maybe your confession would prove to her that you would never leave her. Ever.

Gentle hands grasped your head and forced you to look into Zelda's eyes. They were still wet with tears, but oh so beautiful and you were captivated again, staring at her, without hiding anything.

“I could never leave you. Not in a million years. To me, you are... just everything. I know this is not the right time, with all that's going on and stuff, but... I am in love with you. Have been for the past fifty years, actually. I', sorry that I confess now after Marie just left but... I am not strong enough to keep it from you any longer,” you said and tears started gathering in your eyes. You wanted to look away, to run, but you couldn't. First, Zelda still held your face in her hands, and second, you would betray everything you just said if you ran away now.

“I don't know what to say y/n,” Zelda whispered, but the hold on your face tightened and there was a fondness in her eyes you have never seen before. You didn't dare hope.

“You don't have to say anything. I never thought you would have the same feelings for me, and that's okay. I can take it. I took it for the last fifty years, and your friendship is more important than anything. I wanna be by your side, even if we are just friends because you are too important to me. I never want to lose you,” you say gently and looked back into her eyes, letting all your walls down to show her that you were brutally honest with everything you said. She was crying again and that was not supposed to happen. You were here to make her feel better, not worse.

“I'm sorry for dumping that on you. I can understand if you want me to leave,” you whispered, even though leaving was far from your mind. Something was shifting, and you wanted to know where exactly you stood with Zelda now.

“And lose the one good thing that ever happened to me? Stay, please, just give me a moment to sort my thoughts,” Zelda said and leaned her forehead on your shoulder. Was that a good sign, you wondered. It could have been worse, you decided and gently took Zelda's hands in yours.

“I never thought that you could love me, to be honest,” Zelda said after a while and your heart started to pound again.

“Are you serious? What isn't there to love about you? You are so strong, brave, caring, and beautiful. Like a phoenix, you rise from the ashes every time something bad happened, to you or the people close to you, stronger than before. You have your moods, sure, but even those are kind of adorable sometimes. The way you smile when Sabrina does something that makes you proud, or your smile in general. I would fight armies just to see you smile. It's so cheesy and disgustingly sweet, I know, but... you are just everything to me. And Blackwood and Marie didn't deserve you. They didn't cherish you the way you should be cherished. If you could just see yourself with my eyes you would know that there was simply no other way, but to love you. With my whole heart. I've seen you at your worst and I've seen you at your best and all the in-between, and I fell in love with every part of you all over again. Call me a sap, or disgusting, or whatever, but you are so much more than you think you are and what others made you feel. Fuck Marie for leaving you, if I were to have you at my side I would cherish you forever, because Zelda Spellman, you are a gift!” you said and by the time you were finished with your speech you were out of breath and Zelda was staring at you as if you'd grown a second head.

“I am sorry if I overwhelmed you,” you whispered, but you couldn't stop staring at her, waiting for some kind of reaction.

“No one ever said anything like that to me before,” Zelda said and if you didn't know it any better, you would say that she was rather shell-shocked.

“Oh, believe me, you have no idea how much I hate your past lovers for that,” you said heatedly and Zelda snorted at that.

“I love you too,” Zelda said simply and smiled. You gaped. What did she just say?!

“You-I-what?” you stammered and Zelda looked at you with such gentleness that all the butterflies in your stomach turned into a tornado of fluttering.

“You are an idiot. But you are my idiot. If you want to be that is,” Zelda said and buried her face in your neck. You were completely speechless. Was this really happening?

“But what about Marie?” you asked, afraid of the answer. But Zelda just took your face into her hands again and forced you to look into her eyes when she said “If I had known that we have a chance, I would have never gotten together with Marie. Or Blackwood for that matter. And now stop thinking and just kiss me already”

You just snorted at her demanding down and leaned forward gently, until your lips connected in the sweetest kiss you had ever experienced in your life. One of Zelda's hands wandered into your hair to pull you closer and you just grabbed her and pulled her into your lap. You were probably holding on a bit too tightly, but neither of you cared when Zelda moaned gently and you used the opportunity to deepen your kiss. Zelda's other hand wandered into your hair, gently tugging and now it was your turn to moan. Your tongues battled for dominance and surprisingly you won, smirking into the kiss until you had to come up for air.

“I always knew you were a bottom,” you grinned teasingly and buried your face into Zelda's neck, kissing it softly.

“Shut up and continue what you are doing. I don't want to waste another second with you,” Zelda moaned and threw her head back so that you had more room to continue your ministrations.

“So demanding my love,” you chuckle and gently bit down to suck a small, barely-there mark into her skin. You couldn't quite believe that this was happening, but you enjoyed every second of it.

“I'll never let you go now, my darling Zelda,” you whisper into her ear and Zelda just moaned, demanding more. You didn't know how far you would take it today, but you weren't overly concerned with time right now. After all, you were witches, and now you had all the time in the world to finally be together...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prompts are still open, although it may take sometime for me to finish. I pinned the post where I asked for prompts on my page, so if you want anything written, please check  it out!

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

lost in the citadel (this is how villains are made)

ao3

Two Morties and a Rick stand facing each other at the end of all things.

Morty, the ordinary one, the stolen Morty--because as it stands C-137 isn’t his Rick and the family he’s stealing time with isn’t his family-thinks that maybe this is a beginning.

The beginning.

The start of something that was always going to happen. The splinter in the timelines that they’ve been careening toward for years but have always been brushing off with offhand jokes about serialized adventures and canon adventures.

Or maybe, instead of a horrifying beginning, it is the merciless end after all. The thrilling conclusion in the clusterfuck that is Rick Sanchez’s life, featuring one Morty Smith.

Or maybe they’re all missing the point.

Maybe this story isn’t about a Rick at all.

Morty Smith, dressed in a black jumpsuit and rapidly keying in sequence codes to the terminal beside him, offers Rick a cold glance over his shoulder and it occurs to the other Morty that this story isn’t about C-137 and or even himself.

It’s about a Lost Morty.

Because the thing is the Stolen Morty remembers the other Morty, the Morty who was President but who is now evil, but also maybe a little bit right, and very very Lost.

He remembers him tagging along after Evil Rick- the Rick who may have not been a Rick at all - remembers the expression on his face when he dragged Morty away from his not his never his Rick and the furrow in his brow after everything, before all the Morties got herded away by Ricks.

Something intelligent has always been gleaming behind the surface of this Morty’s eyes, and the ordinary Morty has been a fool to ignore it. He remembers Rick’s warnings of cocky Morties and his own itching trigger finger and how far he’s willing to go when Rick isn’t around or, even worse, how far he’s willing to go when Rick is around, how far Rick pushes him, how far Ricks push their Morties to do things against the shaky moral code they all possess, how much everything hurts so much all the time and how scared and lonely and worried he is all the time-

The Smart Morty, or maybe distinguishing him from other Morties as smart is wrong-because they’re all smart, you can’t be in their family and not have at least a little bit of something upstairs, despite what Ricks say- maybe the word he’s looking for is free , or even tired or maybe calling him Lost Morty was the most correct-

The Morty who’s currently making every Ricks killcount look pathetic turns and calls them “an infinite fucking baby” and the Stolen Morty thinks fucking relatable .

This thought is quickly lost in a barrage of oh shit oh shit oh shit as the Citadel fills with screaming. The place is literally falling apart around them, Ricks and Morties screaming as they try to activate protocol Phoenix, when a piece of the ceiling crumbles and takes C-137 down with it.

The Stolen Morty takes a step toward him, despite his anger, despite the now you’re evil Morty too ringing in his ears, when the Lost Morty turns and says-

- you can come with me and everything comes to a standstill.

Because the stolen Morty understands what the lost Morty is saying.

Just like how every Rick knows each other’s moves and hates each other, because how could they like each other when they don’t even like themselves, and understands each other on a level that no one else ever can--and despises every other Rick for it, like any of them could help it--just like every Rick knows what the other Rick is about to do-

Morty understands what the other Morty is saying.

Infinite fucking baby.

Jackshit, I’m leaving.

That’s what makes me evil.

Now you’re evil Morty too.

Or even,

You guys can’t help it-

Maybe they’re all Lost Morties and this Morty is the only one who can see that.

Except now the Stolen Morty can see it too.

And that realization breaks every foundation the Stolen Morty has, because hasn’t he been lost too for as long as he can remember?

Isn’t he lost and exhausted and hitting rock bottom only to find that there’s another rock bottom waiting for him after that one? Doesn’t he look in the morning every day and see another part of himself chipping away as he becomes more and more compliant to what everyone else wants, to what Rick wants?

Doesn’t he lie on the roof every night, with the stolen cigarettes from under Summer’s mattress, bare heels digging into the rough shingles, hoping that if he inhales enough smoke everything will stay numb when the sun rises and it all starts over again?

Isn’t Morty so so lost?

Two lost Morties and a Rick face each other at the end of the universe, the beginning of something, and the diverging of paths.

The stolen Morty, ordinary Morty, the Morty who keeps fucking up, the Morty who once opened a book and read about abuse cycles and snapped it shut, but has never forgotten but watches his mom stop drinking only to start up again two weeks later, but watches Summer promise to do better but then fall for Rick’s manipulations without fall again and again, but he, himself also keeps crawling back to the people hurting him again and again and again…

This Morty hears the words you could come with me and for the first time in his life sees possibilities.

Every taste of freedom Rick has ever given has been tainted with the knowledge that one of them always comes crawling back to the other. It’s a universal constant, as long as there’s a Rick there must also be a Morty. And usually vice versa, although Morty’s met Rick’s without a Morty. He doesn’t like to think about them.

But now someone stands before him and offers a world where “Rick and” doesn’t proceed a Morty’s existence.

He hears Rick say something about this being the better offer and something about him not having a plan, but there’s a high pitched whine ringing in his ears, breath squeezing tightly in his lungs, a burn like anxiety itching under his skin.

But there’s no time for that because everyone’s dying and Rick’s groaning with pain and the other Morty is about to leave.

Morty has only a split second to make a decision and he-he doesn’t-

He doesn’t know what to do.

There’s a burn in his lungs and a pulse in his ears and the only person in his life who’s even chosen him is in pain and Morty doesn’t even think , suddenly he’s across the room, helping Rick, the Rick that’s hurt him and forced him to hurt over people and won’t stop no matter how many self actualization moments he has or promises he makes to do better, but none of it matters to Morty because, because-

--Rick is dragging him out of bed, rambling loudly- loudly enough to wake the whole family, so Morty shushes him, makes panicked little noises begging him to just quiet down -but then they’re out in the garage and then in Rick’s ship and then they’re zipping through space and Rick won’t tell Morty where they’re going, why he’s dragged Morty out of bed this time, and on a school night again

but then Morty sees it, three orbiting stars going supernova and Rick is saying something about statistical anomalies and epic light shows , but Morty isn’t even listening because now he’s seeing colors he didn’t even know existed and he’s aware his nose is smooshed against the window and he’s fogging the glass, but he doesn’t even care-

-he fails another test and Rick tells him school is wasted on him anyway that not even he’s the kind of stupid that needs the American education system to mold him into a mindless citizen-

-the garage blows up and Morty has glass in his eye and he’s sobbing screeching yelling begging, but then warm, rough hands are on his face and everything goes numb for a second and then the pain is gone -

-Morty watches Rick fuck around the keyboard before sitting down next to him, exhausted because school sucked, school always sucks , but then Rick is guiding his hands toward the keys and saying shit like m-middle c, M-Morty, it’s not that hard , and then they’re pressing keys together and the sound soothes the itch under his skin-

-he’s no stranger to the smell of smoke, but the bar smell has him feeling a particular way, so he steps outside for a moment, just a moment to catch his breath, to quell the nausea in his stomach, but some humanoid creature follows him out and drags him into the ally and just before everything goes wrong , his assailant shrieks and crumbles to the ground and there’s Rick, streetlight silhouetting his furious face-

-he’s sitting in the Principal's office and they can’t get ahold of his mom because she’s at work and who knows where Jerry is and Summer ditched because that what she does now and Morty’s eyes hurt and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding on top of everything and the sensory overload is just too much he can’t

there’s a hand on his shoulder and a familiar drawl interrupted by belching and suddenly Morty’s being whisked away, he’s in the parking lot, he’s in the ship, someone’s pushing a pair of earplugs into his hands and it’s suddenly, blissfully quiet-

-his knuckles are red and his lip is split and Rick hands him ice cream and says next time punch with y-your two front knuckles, du-dumbass, and then something buzzes in his ears and his skin is healing-

-Rick slings an arm over his shoulder and belches loudly-

-a hand ruffles his hair-

-a voice that is soft sometimes but also yells sometimes and calls him names but also says things like I’m so sorry and I’ll do better and god, M-Morty would you just shut up -

The president Morty does that thing with the curve thingy and the citadel explodes.

____

When the golden light fades away and the crack in the curve slams shut after the other Morty--the smartest Morty, or maybe just the tiredest Morty, the Morty who had finally said enough and used his brain for something other than defending Rick--the Rickest Rick and the Morty who threw his chance at freedom away stand in what’s left of the Citadel.

Morty--possibly the dumbest Morty, the Morty that belongs to Rick C-137, even though this Morty isn’t from dimension C-137, the Morty that keeps getting a shot at getting out , but throwing it all away because at this point he doesn’t know how to exist without a “Rick and” in front of his name--turns in a slow circle, blinking rapidly.

Mortyberg is a little worse for wear, but nowhere near as bad as the rest of the Citadel, which is miles away and crumbling fast. Morty seriously doubts there’s any survivors --not after the clusterfuck that had happened there.

Morty turns back to Rick--not his Rick, but also his Rick--and his eyes lock on what the man has been staring at in horror.

The portal gun is empty.

They are lightyears from any civilization--possibly universes away, because even though Morty can’t really comprehend what the Citadel really is, he’s also fairly certain that it doesn’t exist in any universe besides it’s own--and Rick’s portal gun is empty.

Rick turns and stares at the closing crevice in the stars. Morty follows his gaze.

The tiny sliver of black disappears and so does Morty’s freedom.

He chances a glance at Rick. The man’s eyes are glued to-to-

Morty looks at the other Morties, some of them normal, some of them those terrible, hideous things they saw beneath the citadel, and realizes that it’s just them, just whoever Rick managed to drag to this part of the citadel and anyone fortunate enough to already be here.

He thinks he sees a few Ricks too, their Morty’s clinging to them in terror or watching with mild disinterest--cynical, jaded Morty’s, one step ahead of this Morty and yet still ones step behind.

“Well, shit,” Morty hears himself say, lack of stutter almost startling. It’ll come back full force in a minute, he’s sure.

Rick doesn’t say anything, lips thinning with either irritation or panic. Morty can usually tell, but the past hour has shaken him. Possibly shaken both of them.

Another Rick suddenly appears in the terminal that they’re all standing in and Morty’s stolen Rick goes expressionless again. There’s a lot of shouting that goes on, between them, between the other Ricks, and a couple of scared Morties, but this Morty barely registers any of that.

Everything has narrowed down to the other Morty’s voice in his head and the sound of his stolen Rick’s voice in his ear. Angry. Irritated. Worried.

The other Rick smacks a hand to his forehead in exasperation and says something that Morty doesn’t quite catch, but suddenly both Rick’s are practically shrieking at each other and it’s too loud -

Morty flinches away, stumbling into his Rick, who catches him on impulse, not really paying attention. His hand grabs Morty’s upper arm and he rights him, while continuing to throw insults in the other Rick’s direction. Eventually they calm down-although Morty isn’t paying attention enough to know how they actually came to a resolution on...whatever they were fighting about (he should really start paying attention)-and the other Rick sulks off, herding Morties off the terminal and into the streets.

Another Rick comes running- cop Rick-and takes over, gently talking to the Morties and asking them if they needed anything, if they were okay and everything right now between that and the Evil Morty-the Lost Morty- blowing the place up and Rick-Rick-

Everything right now is so surreal Morty distantly entertains the scenario that he might, in fact, have died. Or never come out of those memories.

He lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes so tightly shut that stars burst behind the lids. When he opens them, he’s still standing on the last functioning part of the Citadel, with several Ricks, even more Morties, and no way of getting home.

No way yet.

There is no doubt in Morty’s mind that Rick already has a plan with at least fifty contingencies and contingencies for the contingencies. He is still Rick Sanchez after all, even if eight percent of his personality is a product of trauma.

But when he turns to look at Rick, the man is still staring blankly at the sky, where they had last seen the other Morty disappear.

His grip on Morty’s shoulder tightens.

____

It takes all of three hours to figure out that every Rick here has a plan, and not every plan really gets along with the others.

Morty’s Rick clearly has the best idea-and he’s not just saying that because he’s biased, he’s not - but it’s going to take a hell of a lot to convince the other Ricks, so Morty takes his exit when the fighting starts and finds a back alley to hunker down in.

There are much nicer places in Mortyberg to hang out in, he’s sure, but there’s also less chance a Rick will stumble across him or, even worse, his Rick.

He really just needs a moment to himself.

There’s a dumpster lying in the middle of the path, upended onto its side in the chaos, so Morty hops on top of it and sits, with his feet dangling over the edge.

Despite being the master of compartmentalization, Morty’s hardly been able to focus.

He and Rick often liked to joke about twenty minute adventures and about how cramming so much action into so little time was jarring, but this was the first actual time Morty felt it . Between the memories of someone else’s life- Rick’s life-suddenly dumped into his skull and the President Morty killing eight percent of the Citadel and offering to take Morty with him -

(he’s still not sure if the other Morty was kidding about the toilet thing.)

(he thinks he wasn’t.)

(but what if he was?)

-Morty barely can scramble his own thoughts together, let alone hold a conversation with anyone.

Which is why, naturally his self imposed solitude is quickly interrupted.

Cop Rick pokes his head into the alley and frowns.

“Y-You look like shit, kid,” he says, arms crossed as he approaches.

Morty scowls.

“N-nobody asked you,” he snaps, mirroring Cop Rick in crossing his arms.

“No, I-I mean you-you really look like shit. Christ, does your Rick even feed you?”

When Morty glare deepens, Cop Rick winces reflexively, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, di-did your Rick-was he on the Citadel or-”

Morty groans, already done with this conversation. “My Rick’s fine , he-he’s that asshole revving everyone else up.”

Cop Rick barks a surprised laugh. “Your-your Rick is C-137? Sh-shit, tough break, kid.”

“T-tell me about it,” Morty mumbles, drawing his knees up and looping his arms around them.

The Rick frowns at him for a second before hopping up beside him, letting his legs dangle over the edge next to his. “Wanna talk about it?”

This surprises Morty. This is still a Rick, still a complete asshole who smells like a liquor store and wouldn’t know what tactful was if it hit him in the face, but there’s also something surprisingly sensitive about him.

Morty doesn’t trust the guy--he doesn’t trust anyone , why would he trust a random Rick?--but something in his chest loosens ever so slightly at the almost kind voice.

“Not really,” Morty mumbles, just the same, not really up for getting into the highs and lows of the clusterfuck that was Rick C-137 and the Morty from-from-

Christ, what dimension was Morty even from?

“Wa-wanna grab a bite, then?”

A few moments later finds Morty seated in a diner.

The place is a mess- tables and chairs thrown about in the chaos, but there’s still food in the pantries and freezers, so Morty helps himself to the remaining ice cream in the ice box. It’s the first time he’s eaten since this morning and he’s suddenly ravenous .

“Th-thanks,” Morty says, a few hours later and overfull with gross junk food, as Cop Rick guides him back to where he saw his own Rick last.

He gets a pat on the shoulder in response. “Don’t-don’t worry about it, kid.”

____

Morty takes to wandering around Mortyberg at night.

He thinks it's night, at least. The Citadel didn’t operate in a proper universe, so weather and season were completely artificially generated. Even in this broken off piece of the city, a fake sun still sets, blanketing the place in darkness.

Rick and the few other Ricks who managed to survive are still trying to find a way to create portal fluid. Morty doesn’t think it will take them long. The smartest man in the universe plus twenty more of him means there’s more than enough brain power to go around.

Enough brain power that Morty can keep to himself.

He comes across other Ricks-mostly Cop Rick, which is a relief because he’s the nicest Rick and all the other one’s make him feel weirdly uncomfortable for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint-but mostly it’s just other Morties.

He meets mostly Morties like him-a few dimensions off, or a dimension where Jessica is a guy, or Summer is dating a girl, or Jerry is out of the picture-but there are a few oddities: a lizard Morty, a Morty that hit puberty faster than the rest of them, a Morty with curly curls than the rest of them, and even a Morticia.

He spends time talking to some of them, even realizes that a few are some he knew from before, whether it was from the few times Rick has reluctantly dragged him to the Citadel or the occasional Rick and Morty duo they ran into during adventures.

Most of them are Rickless which is both a terrifying and freeing concept to Morty.

He asks some of them what they’re going to do now.

“O-oh, y-you know. Go to school and j-just be normal now, I-I guess,” one Morty says.

The idea of going back to a regular life-a pre -Rick life, is inconceivable to Morty. Even during times Rick has taken off for weeks at a time to do his own thing or the more recent adventure breakout they had, Morty was still traipsing around the universe(s) getting into trouble.

Morticia squints at him when he asks her. “Wh-what kind of a question i-is that?” she asks, arms crossed.

He shrugs.

She scoffs. “O-obviously Summer and I will figure s-something out.” She shakes her head and walks off, muttering things about dumbass boys and what the fuck does normal even mean .

Morty wonders if it’s weird that out of all the Morties here, he and Morticia have the most in common.

____

Morty begins to have dreams on day three.

They aren’t really dreams. No, they’re memories , memories of that brainscan he’d dumped into his own mind. He doesn’t know how long he’d been out, but he guesses it had been somewhere between ten to twenty minutes, which was ridiculous considering the amount of information he’d taken in.

Most of it had barely registered due to, well, everything .

But now snippets are coming back.

When Rick finds him, sitting on a rooftop, a few nights after the dreams started, he only sighs with vague annoyance before joining him.

With all the Morties scattered across Mortyberg, this Morty is distantly surprised that Rick knows it’s him.

Or maybe he’s not.

“He broke the curve, di-didn’t he,” Morty says, eyes glued to a constellation of stars that might not even be real.

Rick flops onto his back, arms spread.

“So there’s a chance tha-that we can go to places wh-where you aren’t the smartest man in the universe?”

It’s barely a question.

Rick doesn’t respond and Morty doesn’t look at him.

“Wh-which means your chances of finding the Rick that-”

“ Jesus , Morty, I said w-we could stop talking about it.” He doesn’t even sound that mad, but Morty shuts up anyway.

He crosses his arms and lays down on his back too.

The roof he’d chosen to perch on belonged to some restaurant establishment Morty barely remembered the name of. It was mostly flat, but he’d found a section of it that reclined slightly enough that it felt like sitting on the roof at home.

If he closes his eyes, in fact, he can’t even feel the difference.

His fingers itch for a cigarette. He wonders if anyone here has any.

When he opens his eyes, Rick is staring at him. He looks irritated, but not in a M-Morty stop being a du-dumbass way. There’s something else behind it, something watchful and analyzing. He wants to know something, but is too proud to ask.

Whatever. It’s not as if Morty can read his mind.

“H-hey, do y-you think anyone here has any ciggs?”

Rick frowns. “W-what, you smoke now? Christ, I leave you for like-like three weeks and y-you’re developing-”

Morty groans and rolls onto his side, fed up with Rick’s hypocrisy for like. The zillionth time since the man steamrolled into his life and derailed it.

The silence echoes between them, only occasionally broken up by a Rick or sometimes even a Morty in the street shouting or saying things that Morty can’t quite catch. His mind is racing a million miles a minute, and, like usual, he can’t get it to calm the fuck down .

He likes to think of his own energy as a cup. When he’s around his family the cup is about half full. When his parents are fighting-are being loud , are talking about him like he can’t understand them, when they say things like “special” and “different’ and “needs”-it spills over the edges, little trickles down the side. When he’s at school it’s definitely overflowing, his patience and the amount of energy he needs to function around people fluctuate wildly.

When he’s around Rick it’s either empty or overflowing so quickly that he’s ready to throw up from the intensity of it.

Right now it feels like that.

His breath starts to come in sharp gasps, adrenaline shooting through his body for the first time since he and Rick escaped the exploding Citadel. His eyes are on fire and his lungs aren’t working and his skin feels wrong -

Rick lays a hand on his shoulder.

It doesn’t urge him to move over or do anything other than simply rest there.

Morty feels distantly-because anything other than feeling overwhelmed is distant right now-surprised. Usually when he gets like this Rick either yells at him or offers to sedate him.

Or just leaves him alone.

But it wasn’t always like that, was it?

Morty can remember a time, when he’d just turned 13- or was it 14? It’s hard to remember a time before Rick- and his grandpa had come literally crashing back into their lives and suddenly there was someone who understood who said things to his mom like jesus what are they teaching kids there, and ye-yeah Morty’s special, bu-but you don’t have to treat him different, wow, and sure it was all condescending, sure it was just another way for him to insult someone else-

But someone had understood .

This is abusive , Rick had said a few weeks ago.

It feels like forever.

Maybe he had actually understood this time.

Or maybe, one again, Morty has been duped into believing the great lie. That a Rick could change. That his Rick is different.

Jesus, this isn’t even his Rick.

But he’s one sitting next to him and absentmindedly rubbing his thumb into Morty’s shoulder.

It’s nice. Morty closes his eyes, skin soaking up the warmth.

“I don’t regret it,” Morty says softly. He feels Rick startle next to him, but doesn’t roll over. He keeps all of his limbs interlocked together, ankles crossed, arms folded, as if he can keep himself from falling apart.

He squeezes his eyes shut and whispers. “I don’t regret it.”

(Morty wakes up halfway a few hours later when Rick picks him up. He falls back asleep a few minutes later--soothed by the rocking of Rick’s gait and his annoyed g-go back to sleep --but something in his chest settles at it.

Maybe everything’s going to be fine.)

____

Morty doesn’t really know how they did it-he thinks some Rick’s salvaged some tech from the floating remains of the Citadel and did some sci-fi shit to it or whatever-but a week after the curve thingy explodes, Rick and Morty are in a ship, headed home.

“Aw j-jeez, what are we gonna tell Mom?” Morty says, face pressed into the window. His sleep schedule, which is normally fucked, is now completely nonexistent. The ride home was supposed to be for napping, but the ever prevalent anxiety is keeping him awake.

Rick shrugs. “T-tell her whatever you w-want, Morty, I seriously d-doubt she’s gonna care.”

It stings a bit, but it’s true.

Well, maybe not as true anymore. His mom has been much sterner with Rick over dragging Morty and Summer on dangerous adventures of late, but Morty thinks it has more to do with control than actual concern.

Still, it’s doubtful they’ll get more than passing irritation for being away for a week.

A couple of minutes before they reach earth, Rick stops the ship.

He lets the engine idle for a minute, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

When the silence goes on long enough that Morty is distinctly uncomfortable , he groans and uncurls from his fetal position against the door and blinks bemusedly up at him.

“R-rick?”

“W-we should dial it back for a while,” Rick says. “Maybe go back to s-solo adventures.”

Morty clasps his hands together, twisting them into uncomfortable positions nervously. “I-I don’t know, Rick. It-it seems like wh-when we’re apart things get-they get worse.”

“Y-yeah and you almost di-died like sixty times this week, Morty, I-I don’t think you get a say in w-what’s worse,” Rick sneers.

Morty sighs and looks out the window.

“Rick,” he says, wearily and then cuts himself off.

The man in question glares down at the center console like it personally offended him. “L-look, Morty, you-you may have had a point about not-about not trusting me and-”

“Yeah, okay.”

“-and, wait what.”

“I s-said, okay ,” Morty presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I-I just-we keep doing this, Rick and I-I’m just-”

He sucks in a breath and pulls his hands away. Stares up at Rick with wide eyes and an expression that bleeds emotional vulnerability, but he doesn’t even care anymore because he just threw away every chance at freedom, at a life free from the bullshit that’s so deeply infected in everything he touches, for this man, this guy who can barely even look at him and he’s-he’s-

“I-I’m really tired, okay?” His voice is small. “Can we j-just go home?”

Rick stares at him for a minute before putting the ship back in drive.

The rest of the drive home is silent.

Beth is mad, surprise surprise, but not as mad as she could have been.

Morty lets Rick bare the brunt of it and seeks refuge in his room. It’s a mess, exactly like it was when he left, because Beth isn’t the type to come and clean up after her kids and she’s the only person who’d ever actually walk into his room, except Rick, who doesn’t give a shit.

Morty collapses in bed, intent on sleeping for the next couple of hours or days, when the door creaks open.

It’s Rick. Of course.

He scowls. “W-way to go on having m-my back, M-Moorty,” he says, rolling his eyes in irritation.

Morty rolls his eyes back. “Y-you said that s-she wouldn’t care !” he points an accusatory finger at him.

Rick glares back.

After a moment of prolonged, uncomfortable glaring, Morty looks away. Rick takes this to mean that he won or whatever, because the tension in his shoulder loosens a bit and he flops down on the end of the bed, facedown.

“J-jeez, are y-you having another crisis?” Morty mumbles, tugging the blanket up over his head.

Rick mutters something into the bedding unintelligible so Morty ignores him. Sleep is darkening the edges of his vision anyway.

Before he completely passes out, the door creaks open again.

Everything fades as Beth and Rick start talking.

____

Morty doesn’t think they’re ever going to talk about what happened.

Rick clearly doesn’t care about the other Morty- why would he?- but it’s very clear that he’s upset about....something.

If Morty was to garner a guess it’s because Morty could have left with him.

And he almost had.

He should have.

But no, he hadn’t in the end. He’d chosen to pull Rick up and follow him out of there, instead of taking a deal no other Morty had been offered. And Rick was either mad that he hadn’t or mad that he almost had , and Morty didn’t know how to apologize for either.

It was almost easier in that week when they were stuck on the Citadel because then Rick could take out his ire on other Ricks and Morties or throw all of his energy into solving their predicament.

Now there’s just Morty and the rest of his dysfunctional family.

A whole lot of not talking about it and arguing about other things goes around for a while, with Summer trying to break up the tension by forcing them to go on adventures with her or Beth demanding in hissed whispers that Rick figure it how or whatever because I’m not finding us another therapist.

Morty basically tries to ignore everyone.

Until one night, he’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling because insomnia’s a fucking bitch, when he realizes…

Why should he have to avoid Rick?

Why did they have to avoid each other in the first place?

“Y-you know wh-what? The other M-Morty was right, you’re a big fucking baby!” Morty says, bursting into the garage.

Rick looks over his shoulder, eyebrow cocked.

“First-first y-you leave and then you come back and s-suddenly everything’s m-my fault j-just because y-you’re mad that you were wrong about something! It-it isn’t my fault that you figured out y-you’re toxic and don’t know wh-what to do about it!”

Rick looks irritated. “Morty-” he begins, voice already a sneer.

“No, I’m talking right now!” Morty points at him.

Rick crosses his arms and waits.

“I-I don’t regret it, but I should, shouldn’t I? B-because you’re always gonna be a dick and I’m always gonna just be h-here.” Morty swallows, fight suddenly draining out of him. “It’s never gonna change, huh.”

Rick sighs and puts down whatever he was working on. “Look, M-Morty-”

Morty groans, running his hands through his hair. “This blows, can w-we-can we stop? Lets-lets just go watch some interdimensional cable or something.”

Rick drags a hand over his face and looks as tired as Morty feels. “S-so that’s it? We-we’re both fucked up and we’re just gonna go watch tv? Real-real healthy, Morty.”

“Y-yeah, you really can’t call me out on that.” He turns on his heel and makes for the door. Rick catches him before he reaches it.

There’s a pause. Morty doesn’t pull away and Rick doesn’t let go. He just frowns down at Morty for a moment, brow furrowed, that same look in his eyes as that night on the roof. Curious. Analytical.

Then,

“Your mom’s already pissed at us, I-I’m not gonna wake her up.”

Morty blinks. He had maybe forgotten that it was 4am on a Sunday night. “Oh y-yeah.”

Rick’s hand tightens on his shoulder. “But w-we could go out for ice cream.”

Getting ice cream at 4am on a Sunday night isn’t much better than staying up watching tv, but at least Beth wouldn’t lose her shit with them.

Morty smiles. It’s more real and less tired than it’s felt the past couple of months-years even, if he’s being honest.

“Okay,” he says, allowing himself to be herded toward the spaceship.

Once inside, he clicks his seatbelt on and lets his body relax to the sound of the terrible noises the engine makes when it turns over. Rick backs them out and takes off, looking far more at ease than Morty’s seen in a while.

He wishes this could last.

It’s not going to. Of course it’s not. Rick will do something fucked up and Morty will either walk away for a while or continue to be addicted to making the man happy. Their own fucked up little abuse cycle, fueled by shared and separate traumas that neither will admit to, let alone work on.

And still, even knowing-even knowing the shape of the rest of his life, he can’t bring himself to say he made the wrong choice.

He doesn’t regret it.

He can’t bring himself to, because he would go literally insane with it. How could he go on knowing that he threw away the best chance at happiness he’d ever been given?

Morty leans back in the passenger seat and lets Rick’s ramblings and the ambient sounds of the ship wash over him.

It’s the closest thing to peace he has.

____

[whumpasaurus101]

Be a Good Guest & Pheonix Collab! Part 3

the amazing Walter and Gabriel belong to @jordanstrophe !!!

Previous

Jordan's Masterlist / My Masterlist

CW: drowning / beating / belt whipping / parental whumper / creepy whumper and as Jordan says, *takes a deep breath* parental, overprotective, possessive and intimated whumpers

“So,” Mateo said, running his hand through his grey hair and blowing air out of his cheeks, “Let me get this straight; you two decided to run off and have your little ‘fun’. And please correct me if I'm wrong here!” Pheonix gulped, and closed his eyes, “I told him t-to come, he.... He didn't want to, but I made him I-” He was quickly cut off when Walter backhanded him harshly across his face. Pheonix looked up at him, holding his hand up to his red cheek. His mouth was open from shock. Gabriel let out a whimper.

“Bullshit!” Walter grabbed Pheonix’s collar of his shirt and yanked his head closer to his, “Let me tell you something young man, I can tell when someone lies, and boy can I see bright flashing warning lights coming from you!” Noah grinned a he stood in the hall, back against the corridor wall, arms crossed. He could relax now since Mateo could step in to save Pheonix.

Mateo cleared his throat, “Alright, that's it, Pheonix I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you. Get the fuck into our room.” Pheonix glared at Walter but was interrupted when Mateo grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to their room, calling behind him, “I do apologise, Walter, I’ll make sure my boy is punished. Noah, make sure you get everything my dear amigo wants while Pheonix and I are gone.”

“Si jefe por supuesto.”

---

Pheonix flinched as the hotel room door slammed shut. He took levelled breaths. He had only gotten threats from Mateo. He has seen Mateo mad, oh boy, he had. But never at him. His shirt was yanked and he was dragged into the bathroom. “Kneel,” Mateo ordered. Pheonix, knowing better, knelt, feeling the cold, stone tiles through his baggy tracksuit bottoms.

His heartbeat started racing as he watched Mateo turn on the shower and bath tap. Cold water ran into the bathtub and Pheonix squirmed uneasily on his knees. Mateo turned to Pheonix and put on a fake sympathetic smile, “Now now, don't look at me like that. I'll be honest, you did well, mi amor. I mean, I thought you would break your ‘buen chico’ phase.”

Pheonix looked down at the grey tiles, studying the perfectly aligned squares, “ ‘m sorry.” Mateo scoffed, “Mmhmm, oh you will be.”

---

Walter looked at Gabriel, “Oh Gabriel, whatever will I do with you? I thought I strictly instructed you to stay in our room.” Gabriel gulped, “Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” Walter held up his hand, silencing him, “Ah-bah-bah-bah, I don't want to hear it, now, let's not waste time, go into our room.” Gabriel looked up at him, “But-”

“-Room, now.”

Walter slowly closed the room’s door, letting out a sigh. Gabriel shifted awkwardly between his two feet. He looked up at Walter with tears in his eyes. Walter tilted his head and cupped Gabriel’s tear-stained face, “Now, now, don’t look at me like that. You know that I’m doing this for your own good. So, what were you think when you decided to try to run off?”

Gabriel gulped, fidgeting with his hands behind his back, Pheonix had taken the blame, if Gabriel told a different story and both of their stories didn't match, Pheonix would get into so much more trouble than he already is in.

He sighed, “I told him to-” He was backhanded. “And now you're lying as well! Jesus Christ! I have done so much for you! I brought you into my house after your car accident I- I took care of you and gave you a roof over your head! And you repay me with this?” Gabriel opened his mouth but didn't dare say a word.

“I wanted to do one thing, one thing for myself, and you had to go and be selfish. Anyway, that's not what’s important. What's important is that you understand that you need to stay with me all the time. I mean, can you imagine what would happen if you were left all by yourself out there all by yourself?”

Gabriel looked at him, “Wh-what?”

Walter shrugged, “I mean, all those mean people out there, and then the manipulators! You shouldn't trust Pheonix, you know?” Gabriel’s eyebrows furrowed, “But-”

“Ah-ah-ah, you don't know him as much as I do.”

No, this couldn't be right, Pheonix had seemed so nice earlier! Walter circled him slowly, arms folded, “But, those stories can wait for later. I mean, as much as I hate doing this, I will have to punish you. I mean, could imagine if I didn't? You would probably try and run away again and again!” Gabriel sighed. He was still so confused about Pheonix, it was all too much for him.

“Kneel for me and put out your hands.”

---

Pheonix thrashed as his head was once again is head was shoved underwater. He had inhaled gallons of water at this point. He could feel as if his lungs were filling up with water. When Pheonix tried to push his head up, Mateo shoved it hard, back into the water, making him bang his head hard off of the bottom of the bath.

Finally, Marco lifted Pheonix’s head up by his hair which hadn't been cut since his capturing. Pheonix coughed and spluttered, heaving for air. “Okay mi amor, feel like talking now?” Pheonix gasped for air, “I-I told him t-” His head was back under the water before he could finish his sentence.

His hands were tied behind his back from earlier when he had hit Mateo by accident from struggling. Just when Mateo felt Pheonix starting to go limp, he lifted his head back up and threw him back on the tiles. Pheonix’s head hit the tiles again, ouch.

“Okay rebelde, I don't want you passing out on me, but I’m not finished either. Pheonix groaned on the floor. He was too tired. Too tired for all of this! Just as he was drifting off, an almost burning sensation lit fire to his skin. He let out a yell and snapped open his eyes.

There was a knife plunged into his arm. “AGH! WHAT THE FUCK!” His voice was hoarse from all of the water. Mateo chuckled, “Calma, calma. Don't mind me, I’m just simply… doodling!” He dragged the knife further down his arm, almost… snake-like. Oh fuck.

---

Gabriel knelt, back facing Walter who stood behind him. His hands were tied to one of the bed’s legs with a zip tie and his shirt had been ripped off. His breath was uneven as the unknown lurked and haunted him. He heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled and he gulped.

“Now remember, I am getting no enjoyment whatsoever firm this. I just hope you learn your lesson so this won’t have to continue.” Before Gabriel could say anything back, the belt was brought down hard against his back. He let out a torn scream as his back lit up with pain.

“Shh, shhh, don't get upset, this is just so you learn.” *crack*

How was this so sore?!

*crack*

This was going to be hell.

---

Pheonix sat on the edge of the hotel’s bathtub as Mateo wrapped a bandage tight around his wound. Pheonix was shivering from the cold water which was still soaked into his shirt, hair and face.

He yelped when Mateo tightened the bandage too tight. Mateo mumbled a, “Lo siento.” But it was more of a grunt. He was still angry at Pheonix. Mateo tucked the end of the fresh bandage and sighed, “I’ll let you sleep on our bed if you just tell me what happened.” Pheonix hung his head, “I told Gabriel to leave his room.”

“Jesús, dame fuerza. Forget it, you sleep in here tonight. Now, I might leave but you’ll be staying in here until tomorrow morning. We’ll see how Gabriel holds up. I bet he has told Walter the truth. No worries though, I'll tell Aurora all about it once we get back home!”

Pheonix gulped and nodded, “I’m- I'm sorry, I just saw how sad Gabriel was and I wanted to see him smile. We-we weren't going to try and run away, I promise! Just when he finished playing the piano. That was his escape from reality and when he stopped, his face just looked so… -empty.”

Mateo chuckled, “Alright, keep it in your pants puta. That's sweet actually, but it still doesn't make up for leaving when I didn't know. You don't understand what Walter is like with Gabriel, he doesn't want him out of his sight! So you better be careful around Walter, I’d say he’ll take any chance he has to punish you,” Mateo chuckled.

Pheonix took a few deep breaths, great, now two people had a strong hating for him.

---

After ten minutes, Gabriel was curled in on himself, sobbing and whimpering. His back felt torn and shredded. The pain was immense. He flinched at the cold hand on his shoulder. “Hey now, shh shh shh. It's alright, it's over. Have you learned your lesson?” Gabriel nodded quickly, taking a few shuddered breaths, “Y-yes! I- I’m so sorry! I won't leave again!”

Walter smiled to himself, “Good boy, and do you understand why I did it?” Gabriel gulped, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, “Be-because you are trying to protect me.” Walter grinned, “Exactly! Look at you! Now, sleep well tonight, you had a big adventure and it’s late. Can I trust you without tying you to the bed?” Gabriel nodded quickly and Walter smiled, running his hand through Gabriel’s hair, “Good boy.”

---

That night, Phoenix laid on the bathroom tiles. Mateo had taken all of the towels, leaving Pheonix soaking wet, shivering and very very uncomfortable. All that was running through his head was what the fuck was going to happen tomorrow?

---

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