#and if i could affect them they would have changed by now

[definitionoffernweh]

Just finished the season, it is really good!!! Go watch it!!!

After Captain Marvel got review bombed before it came out by (you guessed it) sexist men I stopped looking to the internet for discussion on specifically female-led MCU projects. The amount of sexist shit you have to wade through in those spaces is fucking crazy. Finding real criticism to compare your own thoughts with is like playing Where's Waldo.

Captain Marvel is one of the few popular AFAB versions of a power fantasy (along with the live action DCEU Wonder Woman movie) that specifically affected me. Men get that shit all the time; action movies (aka power fantasies) are made FOR MEN. The bonus in that movie was it actually touching on women's issues. Now, The Marvels was actually a better film (and not because there's less of a focus on women's issues) so if you didn't watch that you should!!!

I deal psychic damage to myself trying to find civil objective discussion on She-Hulk because (outside of losers reacting like it's attacking men as a whole & a very small amount of actual criticism like how the legal stuff isn't well-written) most of it is just complaints about the style (that honestly feels vaguely sexist in the way it's expressed sometimes) or Jen being a flawed human being (which is crazy to complain about cause that's how you make 3 dimensional characters). You can dislike things and that thing can still be good. If it's not funny to you or the character's flaws actually triggers you, MOVE ON. Go watch something else instead of making a huge incel rant on reddit.

And then black-led projects are a close second on how bad the spaces tend to be. The "criticism" I've seen on both TFATWS & BNW's politics is crazy. You can say what you want on the overall quality of both but focusing on black-centered/POC-centered politics isn't a goddamn flaw. I actually really like that speech at the end of TFATWS & the "Sam getting profiled" scene. Those are REAL THINGS people still have to deal with, things I wish a real life Captain America could say to our politicians in a way that actually affects change, and it's good that it's in your face in a super popular cinematic universe that is geared toward general audiences.

Bonus shout-out to all the Isaiah Bradley scenes in both the show and movie. Holy shit man, what an incredible actor and what a heart-wrenching story even if it's fantasy based (no real life super soldiers but there were definitely black soldiers used as collateral). Bonus bonus, BNW (I watched it before TFATWS) sold me on Sam Wilson as Captain America almost immediately. He might genuinely be a better Cap.

Anyway, I KNEW what the immediate reception on Ironheart was gonna be. The AMOUNT of double standard bullshit I saw being used on the trailers was actually crazy. I'm glad to say the show proves them wrong. And that she lives up to the real Tony Stark legacy, not the "high on the pedestal one" both the fandom and society in-universe tends to put him on. She is incredibly similar to him, it's kinda crazy lol I would love to gush more but spoilers so I'll just end with this: Dominique Thorne can act. Goddamn.

+

if you like ryan cooglers projects please support iron heart it comes out today and episodes drop every tuesday on disney +. racists are review bombing despite the fact that the show literally isn’t out yet because they’re losers who can’t handle a black woman leading a show. this is the acolyte all over again and i at least hope this time that disney doesn’t bend to these freaks

[cricket-reader]

Carving Skin Until My Bones Are Showing

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

Summary: You'd thought that everything was fine, until one overheard conversation shattered the illusion, your rose-tinted glasses fading to black. The words cut deeper than anything you've ever heard, and suddenly, you're re-evaluating everything: your relationship, your body, your worth. Now, the man you love with everything you have exists peacefully beside you, as if nothing's changed, while you slowly unravel in silence. You're left wondering if he's already halfway out the door, and you're just the last to know.

Warnings: disordered eating, fainting, body image issues, insecure!reader, misunderstandings, female reader (no y/n)

word count: 4,059

A/N: it's a few days late cause i kept procrastinating on making the banner, whoops | prompt fill for day 30 of @juneofdoom | "This is it isn't it" | Doubt | Crying

{Read on A03} | what i'm listening to

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Sam.”

Bucky’s voice carries across the room and into the hallway, voice laced with mild exasperation. Sam, sitting across from him with an unimpressed look on his face, takes a sip of his coffee. You smile at the sight of Sam, his presence a welcome, if not completely unexpected, surprise at the start of your morning. He must have gotten home early from the mission he was on.

“She’s just so clingy,” Bucky says. “She literally won’t leave me alone. It’s almost annoying at this point.”

You freeze in the doorway, smile slipping off your face in an instant. His words tear through your heart, leaving a hollow ache in their wake.

“That just means she really likes you,” Sam says, shrugging his shoulders.

Bucky huffs, rubbing a hand down his face. “You don’t understand, man. It’s bad, like really bad. I can barely get any of my shit done with her begging for my attention twenty-four seven. I just need some damn space to breathe sometimes.”

You didn’t think you were that bad. Sure, you really liked to drag him away from his work for cuddles—but that was only because you thought he needed the breaks. You know that he used to run himself dry, never letting himself rest until he practically passed out from exhaustion. You didn’t want that cycle to continue. It wasn’t like you forced him to do anything. He could always say no to you. In fact, he has said no to you a few times before—when the work was too important to shove aside for later. All those times he allowed himself to be pulled away, reluctant as he was—how many of those times had he been covertly annoyed with your insistence? How many times did he wish you would just leave him alone?

Your stomach twisted, guilt looming over you. He struggled socially, ran on a limited battery when it came to social interactions—why did you think it would be any different with you? Why did you think you were special? Of course, Bucky is sick of you. When’s the last time that Bucky had some time to himself without you bombarding him with affection and small talk?

“She’s spoiled, that’s what she is,” Bucky grunts, shaking his head. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes. Spoiled? Is that what he really thinks of you? How could he say such a thing? And to Sam, nonetheless. “She eats way too damn much. She’s been gaining so much weight recently; it’s honestly a problem. She ain’t gonna lose it any time soon either with how fucking lazy she is.”

Sam snorts. “Sounds like someone needs to go on a diet.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky huffs before taking a sip of coffee.

A wave of mortification crashes over you, tears gathering in your eyes. Heart pounding, you take a shaky step back, determined to run back to your room before either of them catches you eavesdropping.

You race back to your shared room, tears blurring the hallway beyond recognition. Once in the safety of your room, you sink down to the floor, back pressed heavy against the door. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you press a hand over your mouth—as if that alone could muffle the sobs wracking your body. The betrayal is sharp, sinking its claws into your chest and twisting deep inside of you. How could they say those things about you? How could Bucky say those things about you?

You weren’t that clingy, were you? You just liked being close to him, liked the warmth of his presence, the way he always made you feel safe. And sure, maybe you indulged a little too much lately, but had it really made that much of a difference? Have you clung so much that Bucky has started to resent you for it?

The words replay in your head, each repetition hitting harder, sinking deeper. He sounded so frustrated—so tired of you. Like he was already pulling away, one step from slipping through your fingers completely.

And could you even blame him?

You’ve seen the women he works alongside, the kind of people who seem like they belong in the world. Strong, confident, beautiful. Not needy. Not desperate. Not… you. Maybe he was just now realising what you had known all along—that you weren’t enough. That you never had been.

A fresh wave of tears burns your eyes, but you swallow hard, forcing them back down. You wouldn’t let this be the end.

You could fix this.

You could give him space—stop clinging, stop being so needy. You could take up less room, be less of a burden. And if you skipped a few meals, if you pushed yourself harder, maybe you could be someone he actually wanted again. Someone he’d be proud to love, instead of someone he merely put up with.

You just had to be better.

You would be better.

When you emerged from the bedroom for the second time that day, you made sure to make your arrival audible lest you walk in on them still talking about you and your shortcomings. Whilst you couldn’t stomach any breakfast, you needed your caffeine fix. Bucky greeted you with a wide, beautiful smile and a kiss on the forehead.

It almost made you sick—the way he was able to talk about you like you were the dirt underneath his shoe, only to turn around and play the role of your sweet lover. How could he act like everything was okay when he clearly held resentment against you? It almost makes you wonder how long he’d put up with you for the sake of maintaining this relationship—how long since he’d noticed your defects and realised that he deserved better. You almost feel selfish for keeping him tied to you. Now that the secret is out, there’s no point in dancing around the subject. And yet… here you are. In a kitchen you share with a man who doesn’t love you like he used to, and the man he entrusted with his troubles over you.

Just a little longer, you pleaded. You just need a chance to prove your worth. Bucky won’t have to worry about your overbearing clinginess. He won’t have to be embarrassed to be dating someone of your stature. Bucky deserves the best after everything that he’s been through; you were determined to be that for him in whatever way it took.

You startle out of your thoughts from the movement at your feet. A white ball of fluff looks up at you, meowing incessantly. You reach down to scritch between Alpine’s ears. “Hey, sweetheart,” you coo at her, abandoning your quest for coffee in lieu of holding your baby girl. At least Alpine appreciated your affliction for affection.

You don’t miss the look that passes between Bucky and Sam.

Stomach churning, you suddenly don’t feel the desire to make your coffee anymore. In fact, you don’t even want to be in this room anymore. “I’m going to go over to Nat’s,” you say, hoping that Nat isn’t too busy today.

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Weren’t we going to see that movie today?”

Shoot. You had completely forgotten about that. “We can go later, Nat wanted me to come over right away in the morning.”

“Let me make you your coffee before you go.”

“That’s okay, I’m stopping to get some for Nat and me,” you say, dismissal clear in your tone. It would have made you feel bad to act this way before—before his cruel words effectively tore your heart and spirit to shreds. You gave your baby Alpine a kiss on the top of her head, promising her that you’d be back soon before seeing her back on the ground. You grabbed your purse and sped out of the door without even saying goodbye to the two men.

You spent the majority of the day with Natasha, dread curling around your insides every time you thought about going back home, back to Bucky.

You had promised him that you’d be back to see the movie; however, so, too soon for your liking, you say goodbye to Nat and walk back to your apartment.

There’s a vase of your favourite flowers sitting on the counter when you enter. You frown at the sight, not sure why he would bother when he’s obviously upset with you.

You walk into the living space to see Alpine curled up on Bucky’s lap, his work laptop abandoned on the coffee table. Bucky greets you with a smile, setting a protesting Alpine aside to stand up and give you a welcome home kiss.

“What time were you thinking of for the movie?” He asks, arms resting around your waist.

Frustration begins to creep into your chest. If he had a problem with your clinginess, why is he initiating contact? That’s not fair. How are you supposed to leave him alone when he does stuff like this? “Doesn’t matter to me,” you shrug, not able to meet his eyes.

“There’s a showing in an hour, how does that sound? We can go get dinner afterwards.”

“Sounds great,” you replied.

The movie would have been great if you hadn’t sat there stewing in your own anxiety the entire film. Afterwards, Bucky took you to your favourite restaurant where you ordered a salad with the dressing on the side. Bucky’s brows furrowed at your unusual choice, but he didn’t say anything. The dinner was stilted and awkward, both of you running out of things to talk about sooner than usual.

For the next few weeks, you successfully distanced yourself from your boyfriend. You ignored the way your heart ached every time you saw Bucky alone on the couch, wishing you could go over and snuggle up to his warmth. You learned to ignore the hunger pangs, the way your stomach felt like it was eating itself. Your head split open with the force of the headaches pounding against your skull, vision swimming every time you stood up too quickly.

It’s fine, you told yourself. Who really needed breakfast anyway? Why eat lunch when you could have a few snacks? Bucky was right, you really did eat too much. You could survive on one meal a day, snacks thrown in when your hunger got the best of you, or your hands began to shake too much. You were getting better for him, though, so it didn’t matter. You were eating less, clinging less—just like Bucky had wanted; so why wasn’t he happy yet?

The bed felt colder than usual.

You used to sleep tangled up in Bucky’s arms, leeching off of Bucky’s furnace of a body. You used to tuck your perpetually cold feet against his legs, laughing off his grumbling about how your toes felt like icicles.

Now, you curl up at the farthest edge of the mattress, not willing to accidentally touch him when he clearly wants to be left alone.

You used to look forward to getting home from work, ready to melt into your supersoldier’s arms at the end of a long, tiring day.

Now, you’re filled with dread, wondering if this time will finally be the last.

You used to love the shared dinners at the worn table you had found at a thrift store long ago. Bucky and you would take turns choosing what meal to prepare—you had been on a mission to introduce him to the world of flavour the 21st century had to offer; he always used to say the best part of the ordeal was watching your expectant face as he tried the first bite.

Now your stomach twisted at the mere thought of eating in front of him. His words echoed through your brain with each bite you took—it was enough to make you sick.

Bucky had grown short and snappy with everyone (except you) lately; Natasha had complained ad nauseum about your grumpy boyfriend the last few times you’d hung out. You couldn’t help but think that all of those weeks of your overbearing clinginess were finally catching up to him, as if talking to Sam had opened the floodgates. He has finally realised what his problem was: you.

You really were too late to fix this. No amount of distance could fix what damage had been done. Bucky had a foot out the door for a long time now, and you had been too oblivious to notice.

It was a typical Tuesday when Bucky sent you a text that shattered any hope of repairing your relationship.

>>>Hey, after work, can you come straight home?

>>>We really need to talk.

The cursor blinked steadily even as your hand shook. Tears quickly blurred the damning texts beyond recognition—not that you’d ever forget those words; the words that signified the end of the best thing to happen to you.

After crying in the bathroom for the entirety of your lunch break, you passed through the rest of the day in a haze. Your coworkers knew something was wrong, of course, they did, but you didn’t offer up any explanation.

You felt something press against your throat as you slid the key into the lock, suffocating you with every step you took towards him. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable any further. You wouldn’t continue to drag Bucky down.

The vase of flowers was still sitting on the counter—he’d been buying you a new batch every time they started to wilt. Was he cheating on you? Was that why he was getting you flowers so much more often? The thought was something you’d have previously thought inconceivable, but now you weren’t so sure.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Bucky called out your name from the living room. You forced your gaze away from the flowers and to the living room.

Bucky was sitting on the sofa, hands clasped in between his knees and head hanging low. Your stomach swirled at the sight. This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to cut his losses—cut you from his life.

You crossed your arms, tucking your hands out of sight to hide the way they trembled. You waited for him to say something, not willing to be the person to instigate the conversation.

“Could you sit down?” Bucky asks, sounding so small as he gestures to the armchair. You walk over to the chair, despite wanting to stay as close to the exit as possible—ready to run away as soon as his words cut through you like a knife.

Bucky sighs deeply, his hands running over his face. You almost reach out for him, wanting to comfort him, wanting to kiss those lines away from his forehead. Stopping yourself, you remind yourself that it’s not your place, not anymore, and it hasn’t been for a while now.

“This isn’t working anymore, doll,” Bucky says, not even able to look at you. You saw it coming a mile away, and yet it doesn’t take away the anguish those words bring you.

You know you should say something, but words seem to escape you as soon as you open your mouth. Instead, a hot ball of grief and shame lodges in your throat. Tears spring to your eyes, despite telling yourself that you would not let him see you cry over this. It’s for the best, you try to tell yourself. You were but a stepping stone to Bucky’s recovery. You should be grateful that a man like him even offered you a second glance. Despite the way things ended, you know that you’ll look back on all the memories you made together and smile. Because, for once in your life, you knew what it was like to be loved so wholly. You knew what it was like to have a man who cared so deeply, loved so openly, and gave you enough devotion to last a lifetime.

“Yeah,” you agree with him for the sake of things. You hope he won’t look too deeply into your unshed tears, the way your voice wobbled and the way your body trembled. “I… I should go.”

“Doll-”

You cut him off before he can get another word in. “No, just… let me-”

Standing up to run away from this awful conversation, you feel the world sway around you. Black fades in at the edges of your vision as you stumble forward. You think you hear Bucky calling out your name under the sharp ringing in your ears. Clenching your eyes shut, you brace yourself for the hardwood floor.

—

“Doll?”

You groan as something prods your side. Just five more minutes, you think, burying your face into the warmth surrounding you.

“Sweetheart, please!”

Is that Bucky? Why does he sound so worried?

Blinking up at your boyfriend, you find that you’re both in the living room. Bucky’s clenching onto your body like a lifeline. “What’s wrong, Bucky?”

He stares blankly at you for a few seconds. “Doll… you just passed out.”

“Oh,” you eloquently respond.

The fog covering your brain begins to lift bit by bit. You were both sitting down… Bucky was… he was breaking up with you.

Jolting, you scramble out of Bucky’s arms, pushing him away, away, away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, covering your heated face in shame. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

“Don’t be sorry, honey.” He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you say, despite knowing full well that ever since you started skipping meals, you’ve been prone to blacking out if you stand up too fast.

Bucky frowns at you, eyebrows furrowed. “I feel like you aren’t telling the truth right now.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bucky.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter! You just fainted. If I hadn’t been there to catch you, you’d have cut your head open on the side of the table. Tell me what’s going on!” Never before had you heard Bucky sound so worried.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Why do I–Why do I care?” Bucky scoffs in disbelief. “You did not just ask me that.”

“You’re finally breaking up with me, you don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore,” you shoot back, venom lacing your words as you extricate yourself from under his arm.

“Breaking… I wasn’t going to break up with you,” Bucky says as if the idea alone was unimaginable.

“Bullshit! I know that you’ve been wanting to break up with me for weeks—months even!”

“Where the hell would you get an idea like that from?”

“I heard you talking to Sam last month. You told him that I was clingy and lazy and fat.”

Bucky looks positively bewildered at your words. “I would never say any of that crap!”

“But you did.” You cross your arms, daring him to continue lying to you.

“Why the hell would I ever say that? I sure as hell don’t think any of that-”

“Oh, give it up, Barnes. Who else would you have been talking about? Who else is such a spoiled, lazy, clingy, fat-”

“Oh my god,” Bucky interrupts you. “Are you talking about that time I was complaining about Alpine?”

Your heart stops in your chest. “What?”

“I was telling Sam about how annoying it was trying to work from home. She’d always sit on my damn laptop and yowl in my face until I payed attention to her.” Bucky shakes his head—his bemusement is quick to fade, however. “You seriously thought that I was talking about you?”

Sniffling back tears, you nodded your head.

“Oh, Jesus, doll. Why didn’t you say something?” Bucky wraps his arms around you. “Hell, if I ever said something like that, I’d expect at least a slap to the face.”

“But I was too clingy, always cuddling you and giving you kisses-”

“Is that why you haven’t so much as touched me the last few weeks?”

“I thought you wanted me to stop,”

Bucky squeezes you tighter. “Never. I’d never want you to stop. Doll, I thought you were mad at me. I kept buying you flowers and making your favourite dinners to try and get you to forgive me. But you didn’t even give them a second glance, and half the time you’d already eaten or you’d just push the food around on your plate.”

You melt into his embrace, his reassurances a balm over the lingering anxiety of being too much for him. “I was just trying to make you like me again.”

“Doll,” Bucky pulls away from you, sounding completely gutted. “You should never change yourself to make someone like you more. I love how clingy you are—I missed you so damn much.”

“What about…” No, you can’t ask that—you don’t want to hear his answer. “Never mind.”

And Bucky, damn him, doesn’t let it go. “What about what?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, pulling away from him.

“Doll, please don’t shut me out,” Bucky pleads, using those sad eyes that always make you fold.

“It’s just… You never… Do you have a problem with what I look like?”

Bucky’s frown deepens. “Of course, not. Doll, you are so damn beautiful-”

“But I could be thinner. Lots of other girls are prettier and skinnier,” you interrupt him. You freeze at the way his face hardens.

“I love you just the way you are, sweetheart. You don’t have to change a god damn thing about you. You want to know who drives me crazy? You. You want to know who I want to spend the rest of my life looking at? You. When I fell in love with you, I fell in love with all of you. It’s always going to be you. I don’t want no one else, got it?”

“I…” You stumble over your words, tears burning in your waterline. “I started skipping meals again. That’s why I passed out.”

Bucky’s face turns ashen. “You… you stopped eating because of me?”

“I didn’t completely stop eating! I had snacks and dinner most days. It’s not that big-”

“So help me god if you were about to say that it’s not that big of a deal,” Bucky interrupts you, voice sharp. “You need to eat, doll. This beautiful body cannot live without food.”

“I just thought… I thought if I started skipping meals and working out more, I’d look more like Nat or Sharon or-”

“If I wanted someone that looked like them, I’d ask them out. You wanna know why I asked you out? It’s because I thought you were hot. It’s because you’re as gorgeous on the outside as you are on the inside. I don’t want you to look like Nat, I don’t want you to look like Sharon. I want you to look like you.”

Bucky says it with such conviction, you can’t help but allow the tears to fall down your face. “You really mean that?”

“Of course, babydoll. You’re it for me. Don’t want no one else.” Bucky pulls you back into his arms, nuzzling his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Call off of work tomorrow.”

“What? I can’t-” You screech as he lifts you into his arms. Clinging to him like a koala as he makes his way to your bedroom, you protest every step of the way.

“Hush,” he says, laying you down on the bed. “I have been deprived of your cuddles for too damn long. We’re gonna order whatever you want, and snuggle all night long. Then tomorrow, I’m going to make you a giant breakfast and we can go on a picnic for lunch.”

“I don’t ever want my best girl doubting my love for her again, got it?” Bucky asks, leaning over you.

You huff at his antics, rolling your eyes. He pinches your side, only the hint of a grin belying his angered expression. “Got it?” Bucky asks again.

“Yes! Okay, I got it!”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know just how loved you are,” he says as a promise before leaning in and kissing your lips.

That night, as you snuggle into his warmth, you endeavour to never let a misunderstanding like this tear you apart again.

Taglist: @hallecarey1 @harleycao @filmsbyblair

[parkerslatte]

Not So Private

Bang Chan Ver.

Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1k

SS Count: 3

Warnings: 9th member au. minor hate comments. implied sex. fluff.

Summary: After getting engaged, Y/N and Chan share the news with the world.

Stray Kids Masterlist

The rain hitting the window was the only sound in the room. The couple layingin bed together, softly caressed one another’s skin. No words of affection needed to be said. The sheets covering their bare bodies was the only thing protecting them from the cool evening air. 

“So,” Y/N said, finally breaking the silence after a long time. “How do we get around this?”

Chan looked down at her as she admired the ring on her finger. It was simple but suited Y/N perfectly. The smile that tugged on Chan’s lips was nothing but affectionate. 

“The company has given us the go ahead to announce it in our own way,” Y/N continued. “But don’t you think that dropping news that we are engaged when no one even knew we were dating will cause a lot of drama.”

The worried crease between Y/N’s eyebrows deepened as she looked at her ring. Many thoughts swirled through her head– some positive, some negative. Right now, the negative comments were outweighing the positive. Y/N could already picture what some people would say. After all, being a member of a group that primarily consisted of boys other than herself– she was used to the comments some made about her. But what she didn’t want to do is make it seem like they were being proved right when they weren’t. 

Chan’s hand covered her own as he gently brought it to his lips. “I know what you’re thinking and just know that if anyone mentions anything like that, all of us are on your side and will defend you– me most importantly.”

“I know,” Y/N replied. “And I know that those types of comments have slowed down in the past few years but I don’t want them to resurface again. You saw how they affected me.”

“And I will shut them down the moment I see one,” Chan replied. “You won’t just be my girlfriend. Soon you will be my wife.”

A giddy smile pulled at his lips at the mention of the word ‘wife’. Y/N couldn’t help but smile too– cuddling further into his side. “You aren’t ever going to get tired of that, are you?”

“No,” Chan said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But in all seriousness, I will shut those stupid comments down– so will everyone else. You are one of the most important people in my life– if not the most important. I love you and I’m not going to stand by and watch people spread around false rumours.”

“I love you,” Y/N muttered as she pressed a soft kiss to Chan’s jaw. 

Chan held her tighter as he fiddled with the ring on her finger. It looked strange being there, Y/N thought. She wasn’t used to the cool material being on that finger yet. But as she looked at it more, the more happiness flooded her heart. 

“Somehow I’ve never had a dating rumour with you,” Y/N said, a hint of amusement in her tone as she broke the short silence. “I’ve seen some speculation but people never really picked up on anything.”

Chan smiled as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I don’t know how. We haven’t exactly tried to hide it over the past year. We both spent Christmas with my family in Australia and we spent New Year's in your home country.”

Y/N laughed. “I saw people online saying how you were just being a great leader and supporting me.”

Chan’s laughter trailed off as he linked his fingers with Y/N’s. “I think the announcement should just be simple. We don’t need a grand gesture.”

Y/N hummed in agreement. “I think I want this post to be the only time we mention it. Obviously we won’t need to hide it anymore, we don’t need to be afraid to make eye contact in public or afraid of touching in any videos. But our relationship has been the only thing we have been able to keep to ourselves for the past few years, I don’t want that to change.”

“It won’t,” Chan said. “We’ve done well keeping our relationship separate from work. It’s not going to change because we announced it to the world. “

Y/N smiled and pressed a kiss to his chest before grabbing her phone. “We just want it to be a simple photo, right?”

Y/N climbed out of the bed, throwing Chan a t-shirt and grabbed one of her own before climbing back into bed. Chan’s arm wrapped around her shoulder as she relaxed back into his chest. 

“You take the photo,” Y/N said, handing him her phone. “You have longer arms than me.”

Chan playfully rolled his eyes and quickly took a photo, angling it perfectly to show Y/N’s engagement ring. 

“There’s no point in putting a caption right?” Y/N said, staring at the photo. “It speaks for itself.” 

The ring wasn’t even the main part of the photo but Y/N was sure the way her head rested on his chest spoke enough words to convey the message. As Chan handed her back her phone, Y/N smiled at it. Chan wasn’t even looking at the camera, he was looking directly at her, no other emotion but love and admiration in his eyes. 

As Y/N hit post she immediately locked her phone and threw it down on the side of the bed. She already knew that there would be an influx of comments and there would be extreme buzz on social media and many articles being written but Y/N didn’t care as she relaxed into Chan’s hold. 

“I love you,” Chan muttered as he tilted her head towards him. 

Y/N smiled as she leaned closer, her lips ghosting over his. “I love you too.”

Without wasting another moment, Chan pressed his lips to Y/N’s, both of them completely ignoring the storm they had caused outside of their small bubble. 

Note: This will be the first part of a small mini-series where Y/N and a skz member's relationship gets revealed to the fans. Each member has a different scenario and I already have the next two mostly written so they will hopefully be posted soon!

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

What if Stan turns into a plant? A one of a kind plant, completely unique

Maybe Ford hears about this plant and aquires it somehow to study it

I'm thinking he's some kind of bush or something

Not a small plant

Maybe grows some fruit that looks like crystals

Maybe Stan could grow them in a specific way to make a message, if Ford would stop harvesting them!

I think this would follow along fairly similarly to Completing the Cycle, except Stan as a plant instead of an axolotl. Stan can't move or do much to affect the og plot, so he just sits in his pot, not really seeing but sorts seeing Ford go about his business.

Maybe Stan got hit with some plant obsessed wizards curse, someone just obsessed with turning people into plants to see their 'true selves' or something. Stan's not the only one of a kind plant, but he is one of the only ones not to get uncursed when the magic police bust the wizard for unethical plant curses. Most of the other plant people get freed and sent home, but Stan and a few others are 'special cases' and get sent to a 'specialist' (aka, crooked cops picking out the few particularly interesting or rarer looking plants and selling them off). Stan's soul plant grows little crystal berries for whatever reason. Maybe a reflection of his unseen potential, his shattered heart, his broken dreams? Whatever it is, it looks amazing and some collecter would pay top dollar for a bush like Stan.

Gets sold on the black magic market, exchanges hands, and somehow ends up on the gnome market. Ford sees him in his crystal berry glory, buys him, then takes him home for study.

Now Stan is once more living in his brothers house, actually costing money to house this time lol. Stan's doing his best to try and grow a message here but he's a plant, he's not doing much. Just sits in a corner and then gets neglected when Ford goes crazy, only somewhat more aware of what's going on with Ford than axoltol Stan but still sitting there, being a bush.

The only ways I could see this not ending with Stan being a bush forever is if Bill knocks him over in on one of his Bill rampages and gets a surprise Stan out of it (which is actually kind of hysterical now that I think about it. I think it throw him off his groove, trying to shatter some plant and getting Stan pines of all people. Just stare at each other, Stan panicking from being a person and Bill trying to compute this sudden change in events. I think he'd pause his torture session to get into Stan's business about it)

The other way is Ford going to the mail box, getting the message that Stan's a plant in his house then getting hit with the realization that his brother is a plant he'd been studying for months and whose fruit Ford has def eaten. He's prepared turned it into a smoothie or fruit salad even, for science.

What part of his brother plant soul was he putting into his mouth? Horrifying to think about.

Meanwhile Stan's just chillin, minding his own plant business, when Ford bursts in, grabs him, and smashes his pot onto the ground, breaking the curse. Doesn't even have the chance to register he's a person again before Ford is all over him, checking his limbs and body for missing pieces and yelling the while time. Nothings missing, and Stan manages to choke out that the berries sort of hurt when Ford picked them but not overly? Sort if like getting pinched? All over? Stan has no idea, Fords on his own here figuring this mystery out and also what is happening?

Fighting happens, they kick bills butt, Ford continues to be haunted by Stan's mystery fruit that he 100% would have eaten regardless if he knew it was Stan or not.

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @i-doutt-it @beth-isnt-home @darylandbethfanforever9 @brianna-merlim @pumpkinkpieandtomato @smashleywow @imadisneyprincessiswear @clementineslawyer @pandaofsilentdeath @dixonsbridexx @deerdaryl @imadisneyprincessiswear @staley83 @zombayyyyy @death-in-a-tar0t-card @straw--b3rry @capricxnt @dixonsstinkysock

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

TW: cussing, Merle is well ... Merle, self sabotage, angst, fluff, walkers (Zombies) Canon level racism, violence, the Governor, baby Judith, fluffffff.

Part 20

Between Brothers - Part 21

The morning sun filtered through the prison's grimy windows, casting long shadows across the common area where the group gathered for their daily routines.

Three weeks had passed since that day in the mail room, and something had shifted in the delicate ecosystem of the prison. Merle was trying—really trying—though his version of "fitting in" still involved enough colorful language to make a sailor blush and enough crude jokes to earn disapproving looks from Hershel.

"Shit, old man, that leg of yours givin' you trouble again?" Merle had asked that morning, watching Hershel favor his good leg as he moved around the makeshift kitchen.

"Want me to take a look? I ain't no doctor, but I know my way around broken things."

The offer had been genuine, delivered with less of Merle's usual swagger and more of something that might have been called concern.

Hershel had accepted with a nod and a quiet "Thank you, Merle," that seemed to surprise them both.

It was these small moments that were slowly, carefully building bridges between Merle and the people who had every reason to distrust him.

When Glen had struggled with a stuck gate mechanism, Merle had wordlessly appeared with a makeshift tool fashioned from scrap metal.

When Maggie had mentioned needing help moving supplies, he'd volunteered before anyone else could speak up.

Always gruff, always accompanied by some inappropriate comment that made everyone uncomfortable, but the help was real.

"Reckon he's tryin'," Daryl had murmured to you one evening, watching his brother help Carl with some minor repair work on the fence.

But it was the way Merle looked at you that had really changed, something softer, more complex—a mixture of protective instinct and genuine affection that he seemed to be struggling to understand himself.

Today was no different. You'd volunteered to help Beth with Judith while the others worked on expanding the garden area.

The baby had been fussy all morning, crying despite Beth's best efforts to soothe her. It wasn't until you'd settled into one of the chairs they'd scavenged from the prison offices, holding Judith against your chest while humming a half-remembered lullaby, that she'd finally quieted.

"There's you go," you murmured, adjusting the blanket around her tiny form. "That's better now, isn't it?"

Beth smiled from where she was folding clean cloth diapers nearby. "You're a natural with her. She always settles down for you."

"Babies can sense when someone's calm," you replied, gently bouncing Judith as she made soft cooing sounds.

"My mum used to say that. Said they could tell who was safe and who wasn't."

"Your mother sounds wise," Beth said, her voice carrying that wistful tone that crept in whenever anyone mentioned the people they'd lost.

"She was." You pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Judith's head, breathing in that unique baby scent that somehow still smelled like hope in a world gone mad.

"She would have loved you, little one. Would have spoiled you rotten." You cooed.

What you didn't notice was the figure standing in the doorway, watching the scene with an expression of stunned fascination.

Merle had come looking for you to ask about something—what, he'd already forgotten the moment he'd seen you with the baby.

There was something about the way you held her, so carefully, so tenderly. The way you spoke to her in that soft voice, the one he'd only heard when you were trying to calm him down. The way Beth looked at you with such obvious trust and affection, like you were already family.

Merle had never been good with babies. Hell, he'd barely been good with Daryl when his little brother was small, and that had been his own blood.

But watching you now, seeing the gentle way you supported Judith's head, the patient way you rocked her when she started to fuss again—it did something strange to his chest.

Made it tight and warm in a way that had nothing to do with the Georgia heat.

"Merle? You alright there?"

He startled, realizing he'd been staring. Beth was looking at him with curious eyes, Judith still contentedly settled in your arms.

"Yeah, Sugar. Just... just checkin' on y'all. Make sure nobody needed nothin'." He cleared his throat, trying to shake off whatever the hell had just happened to him. "Carry on with your... baby stuff."

You looked up at him then, and that smile—the one that made his prosthetic twitch and his real hand clench into a fist—spread across your face. "Want to say hello to Judith? I think she likes visitors."

"Nah, I'm good. Don't know nothin' about babies." But even as he said it, he found himself stepping closer, drawn by something he couldn't name.

"Neither did I, before all this," you said gently. "But they're not as fragile as they look."

Beth stood up, gathering the folded diapers. "I should go help Maggie in the garden. You two can handle her for a bit, right?" She was already walking away before either of you could protest, leaving you alone with Merle and the baby.

"Sneaky little thing," Merle muttered, but there was no real annoyance in his voice.

You laughed softly. "She's been trying to get people to spend more time with Judith. Says it's good for everyone."

"That right?" Merle edged closer, peering down at the baby with something that might have been wonder. "She don't seem like much. All pink and... small."

"She's perfect," you said simply. "Want to hold her?"

"Hell no. I'd probably break her or somethin'. These hands ain't made for delicate things." He held up his prosthetic as evidence the blade taped to it catching the light.

"Your hands are fine," you said, and the certainty in your voice made him look at you sharply. "You've been gentler with me than anyone has in a long time, even with your damn mouth."

The admission hung between you like a confession. Merle's throat worked soundlessly for a moment, and you could see the war playing out in his expression—the part of him that wanted to make some crude joke to deflect from the moment, and the part that was tired of hiding behind his own walls.

"That's different," he said finally. "You ain't a helpless baby."

"No, but I was a stranger. And you chose to be kind to me anyway." You adjusted Judith in your arms, her tiny hand grasping at the fabric of your shirt. "That says something about the man you really are, Merle."

He was quiet for a long time after that, just watching you with the baby. Eventually, he settled into the chair beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"She really does like you," he observed as Judith made happy gurgling sounds. "Smart kid. Knows quality when she sees it."

"Merle..." you started, but he was already standing up, that familiar restlessness taking hold.

"I got some work to do 'fore dinner. You good here with the little princess?"

"We're fine," you assured him. "Thank you for checking on us."

He nodded once, then disappeared back into the depths of the prison, leaving you shaking your head.

The temperature had dropped significantly by the time everyone was settling in for the night. The prison's heating system was long dead, and Georgia's cold seemed determined to seep through every crack and crevice in the concrete walls.

You'd layered on every piece of clothing you owned, but it still wasn't enough to stop the shivers that wracked your body as you made your way to the cage you still shared with Merle.

The sleeping arrangements had evolved naturally over the past few weeks. At first, you'd tried to maintain some distance, taking opposite sides of the small space. But the cold was relentless, and Merle had noticed the way you curled into yourself at night, teeth chattering despite the thin blankets.

"Ain't no point in both of us freezin' our asses off when we could be warm."

The cuddling had started as pure practicality—shared body heat in a world where warmth was a luxury. But somewhere along the way, it had become something more. The way Merle would wait for you to get comfortable before settling in himself.

The way his arm would tighten around you protectively when you had nightmares. The way he'd mutter soft reassurances in your ear when you'd wake up gasping from dreams of the dead.

Tonight felt different, though. There was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before, an electricity that made his skin prickle with awareness.

"Cold again tonight," you observed, settling onto the thin mattress.

"Mmm." Merle was unusually quiet, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to you. Something was clearly on his mind.

"Everything okay?" You scooted closer, concerned by his silence. "You've been quiet since dinner."

"Just thinking, honey" he said, but didn't elaborate.

"Sounds dangerous for a man like you" you chuckled.

When he didnt answer you waited, having learned that pushing Merle rarely yielded results. Sometimes the best thing you could do was simply be present, letting him work through whatever was churning in that complicated mind of his.

After what felt like an eternity, he turned to face you. In the dim light filtering through the window, you could see something in his expression that made your breath catch.

Vulnerability, raw and unguarded, like he'd forgotten to put on his usual armor.

"Got somethin' for you," he said, his voice rougher than usual.

"Merle, you don't have to—"

"Just... let me do this, alright?" He reached into his jacket pocket with his good hand, pulling out something small wrapped in a scrap of cloth. "Been workin' on it for a while now. Figured... figured you might like it."

With careful fingers, you unwrapped the cloth to reveal a small wooden deer, no bigger than your palm. It had been carved with obvious care, every detail lovingly crafted despite the limitations of working with only one hand.

The proportions were perfect, the grain of the wood smooth under your fingers. It was beautiful in its simplicity, a piece of art born from patience and dedication.

"Merle..." you breathed, turning the carving over in your hands. "This is incredible."

"Just some scrap wood I found. Figured you might like havin' somethin' pretty to look at in all this ugliness." he said, but you could hear the pleased note in his voice.

"How did you...?" You looked up at him, then back at the deer. "How did you manage this with...?"

"One hand?" He held up his prosthetic, the metal catching the moonlight. "Took some creative problem-solvin'. Had to rig up a way to hold the wood steady while I worked. Daryl helped some, though he don't know what it was for."

The idea of Merle spending hours working on this, fighting against the limitations of his disability to create something beautiful for you, made your throat tight with emotion. "Why a deer?"

His smile was soft, almost shy. "You know why, lil doe."

And you did. The nickname he'd given you, the one that had started as just another in his repertoire of endearments but had become something special, something that belonged only to you.

A doe—gentle, quick, beautiful in her wariness.

It was how he saw you, and somehow, incredibly, it was how you were learning to see yourself.

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his cheek, before settling on the mattress. "It's the most thoughtful gift anyone's ever given me."

The kiss was meant to be innocent, a simple expression of gratitude. But when you looked up at him, you found yourself caught in the intensity of his gaze.

"You don't gotta thank me, lil-doe," he said quietly. "Just... wanted you to know that you matter. That you're worth more than all the pretty things this world used to have to offer."

The words hit you like a physical blow, not because they hurt but because they were so completely unexpected. Merle Dixon, the man who'd spent his life hiding feelings behind crude jokes and volatile anger, was sitting in a prison cell telling you that you mattered to him.

"Merle..." you started, but found yourself at a loss for words.

"I know I ain't easy to be around," he continued, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns on your skin. "Know I'm rough and crude, but you make me want to be better, lil doe. Make me want to be the kind of man who deserves to sit next to someone holding a baby and looking like a angel."

"Saw you with little Judith, saw how gentle you were with her, how Beth trusts you... and I thought, 'That's what good looks like.' That's what I been missin' my whole damn life." His smile was rueful.

"You're not missing anything," you said firmly, clutching the wooden deer to your chest. "You're here, you're trying, you're caring for people who matter to you. That's what good looks like too."

"Is it?"

"Yes." You reached out with your free hand, covering his prosthetic with your palm. "This doesn't make you less, Merle. Your past doesn't make you less. The way you grew up doesn't make you less. You're here, you're present, and you're choosing to be better every day. That's good."

He stared at you for a long moment, like he was trying to memorize your face. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm..." He stopped himself abruptly, jaw clenching as he seemed to wrestle with whatever he'd been about to say. "Shit. This is... you're important, lil doe. More than you probably know."

The almost-confession hung between you like a bridge half-built, something significant left unfinished. You could see the war playing out in his expression.

"Merle..." you began, but he was already shaking his head.

"Don't go getting all sentimental on me now, sugar-tits" he said, but his voice lacked its usual edge. "Just... wanted you to have somethin' nice, is all."

You looked down at the deer in your hands, studying the careful details, running a finger over one of its antlers. "Why a buck, though? You call me little doe."

His smile was crooked, almost embarrassed. "Well, hell, Sugar. Can't have my lil doe walkin' around without her buck watchin' over her, can I?"

"Her buck?" you asked, confused.

"Buck, Stag—whatever the hell you wanna call it." He gestured at the carving with his prosthetic.

"Point is, every doe needs someone keepin' an eye on her. Makin' sure she don't get herself into trouble. And since I can't be with you every damn minute..." He trailed off.

The meaning made your lips curl up into that smile that made his chest warm. Not just a deer—a stag. A protector.

"Merle..." you whispered, understanding flooding through you.

"Look, I needed you to know that someone's lookin' out for you, even when you can't see 'em."

You looked down at the carving again, at the hours of work and care that had gone into creating something beautiful just for you. When you looked back up at him, your eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"I know that when I'm scared, you're the first person I look for." you said honestly. "And I know that this—" you held up the carving "—is the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Merle shifted beside you, the familiar sound of buckles filled the small space as Merle worked to remove his prosthetic for the night. He set it carefully against the wall within easy reach, a habit born of necessity in a world where you never knew when you'd need to move fast.

"Thing gets heavy after a while," Merle said quietly, flexing his shoulders as he settled the prosthetic aside. The stump of his arm was pale in the moonlight, the scars from his amputation long since healed but still visible.

With his prosthetic removed, Merle seemed somehow smaller, more human.

The aggressive edge that the metal attachment gave him was gone, leaving behind just a man who'd survived impossible odds. He rolled his shoulder, working out the kinks from wearing the device all day, before carefully positioning himself on the thin mattress.

He settled back against the mattress and opened his arms to you, you settled back against his chest, holding the wooden deer up to catch the moonlight filtering through the window.

His good hand came to rest over yours, fingers intertwining as you both held the carving together. You could feel the warmth of his palm against the back of your hand."it's so detailed." you murmured, tracing the carved antlers with your fingertip.

Merle's thumb followed the same path, his calloused skin rough against your knuckles as he guided your hand along the smooth wood. The simple touch felt more intimate than it should have, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned closer to see what you were pointing out.

You turned the carving over in your hands, marveling at the way he'd managed to capture the graceful curve of the deer's neck. Merle's fingers traced along yours, following the line of the wood grain, his touch so gentle it was almost reverent.

His fingertips brushed against your wrist, the deer felt warm in your joined hands, as if it had absorbed some of the care that had gone into its creation.

Merle's fingers were steady as they helped support the carving, his stump wrapped securely around your waist to keep you close, not that he would admit it.

Outside, the wind howled through the prison's broken windows, and somewhere in the distance, the dead moaned their eternal hunger. But here, in this small cage, wrapped in Merle's arms with his gift, you felt something you'd almost forgotten existed, safe.

"C'mon" Merle said gently taking the carving and placing it on the bench you used as a side table.

"Sleep now, lil doe," he murmured against your hair.

[weezyweasleys-fg]

Rowdy | Fred Weasley

summary: Set Callaghan. A Slytherin senior of yours at Hogwarts Uni who wouldn't leave you alone. He thinks the quickest way to a girl's heart, is by belittling her into liking him back. Your classmate and long time friend, Fred Weasley, takes notice of this and it clearly doesn't sit right with him.

cw (it's a mess I'm sorry): 1st person pov, set callaghan is a character I made solely for the purpose of this story, fred and reader shenanigans, reader is in another house other than gryffindor, violence (fred decided to become a wwe wrestler), swearing, tension between fred and reader, fluff ending, contains hurtful language, half-blood reader, set callaghan highkey being obsessed, creepy, and an asshole, fred being delicious.

w/c: 16.4k (i just couldn't stop writing, apparently.)

a/n: this piece bit me in the ass so hard, but it's finally done 😭 I hope you guys enjoy reading it! I'm also planning on doing a george one soon!

"If it isn't little miss bookworm. Still scribbling away in that little book of yours, are you? Would do you some good to look up for once and give me a bit of attention." A voice the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard sauntered up to me. The tone and the way he spoke gave away that smug grin he always wore as his eyes roamed over my notes.

I sighed. "Here we go again." I mentally noted, trying to desperately drown out his voice with the surrounding chatter that echoed throughout the walls of the Great Hall, but it seemed impossible to do so. I felt the students around me beginning to shoot us looks. Looks that made me feel especially uncomfortable.

I always knew my next few years at Hogwarts would be somewhat eventful, but I never anticipated just how much trouble one particular person could cause me. That person being none other than Set Callaghan. A Slytherin senior with a twisted perception of courtship.

His pathetic excuse to flirt with me (if you'd even call it that) in an attempt to try and gain my affections began all throughout my third year in university. I'm a fourth year now and nothing has changed. It may have only been a year, but it's still one year too plenty.

My closest confidants, Hermione and Ginny, had sympathized with me. Offering to hex the miserable dungbrain on my behalf, but I told them he wasn't worth getting into trouble for.

They compensated for the lack of action by still offering an open ear to my ranting after school, which I'm very thankful for. And without them, I probably would've gone completely insane by now.

I drew in a deep breath, shutting my eyes in an attempt to compose myself. "Piss off, Callaghan." I spat, my voice obviously irritated and uninterested. Instead of taking the memo and leaving, he sees this as an extra push to torment me even more. He threw one of his legs over the bench and sat down, straddling the seat as he's facing me.

"Now, now, darling, there's no need get so aggressive. I was just trying to brighten up your dull morning." He said, placing his elbow on the table and proceeded to lean a little closer to me, trying to invade my personal space. His voice dripped with a condescending, almost patronizing edge, as if he were speaking to a child. He always loved using the nickname 'darling' just to get under my skin.

I huffed, my eyes finally looking up from my book but not to look at him. "My morning was perfectly fine until you decided to bring you and your sorry self over here." That earned a few giggles and snickers from the students around me who found our bickering amusing. The Slytherin cast a sharp glare in the direction of the source of the irritating noise, effectively silencing them.

Set decided that he was done for now, thinking he'd gotten through to me. That sod doesn't know I've been aware of his intentions since it was made public to me by one of his "best mates". I'd rather stick my head in a Hungarian Horntail's mouth than go out with him.

He extended a hand, gently curling a strand of my hair around his fingers before letting it slide back down to join the rest of my hair. "I'm not giving up, y/n." He whispered, almost sounding like a threat. His unruly brown locks fell across his forehead, casting a shadow over his features. After tapping his palm against the table once, he rose to his feet and walked away, leaving me feeling a whole different level of irritation.

Too caught up in the heat of the moment, I didn't notice Fred who was observing the whole encounter from the Gryffindor's table this whole time. His one eyebrow cocked up in amusement when he saw how much Set was getting a kick out of taunting me the way he did. His mocking smirk sufficing the urge to burst out laughing at how that daft Slytherin thought he had done something, but he knew better than to humiliate the poor thing even more, although he really wanted to.

I sighed, closing my notes and took a hold of my cup to take a sip of water. The chilled sensation runs down my throat, seemingly doing the job at cooling off my head and putting out the flames that Set had provoked in me earlier.

"He really is a bit out of sorts, isn't he?" Hermione whispers into my ear, her eyebrows knitted together in her own little moment of dumbfoundedness. She offered to sit with me at my house table for breakfast this morning to help me with a few notes I had missed, and thank god she did.

"Don't mind him. I'm never giving in to his sad antics if he thinks that'll ever get me to swoon over him." I said, giving her shoulder a gentle push with my own earning a small chuckle from her.

"Should've smacked him upside the head while I had the chance." Ginny pipes up from beside Hermione. I let out a laugh, looking at her with a softer look in my eyes. A completely different contrast to how they looked when Set was here.

"You could've, Gin, but I don't think Hogwarts is ready for that side of you yet." I joked before Ginny shot me a face in which I returned one back, causing the three of us to laugh.

I think everyone and their nan knew of Ginny's strong and independent character that she grew beautifully into in her fifth year. Her older brothers boast of her incredible Quidditch skills when she filled in for Harry, and frankly, I agree.

Hermione? Well, we all know she's a force to be reckoned with, so I'll save her the pleasantries. Everyone already knows what she's capable of.

"Hello, ladies. Mind if I scoot in?" A familiar voice pipes in from behind me. I looked back and saw Fred's tall stature towering over us, wearing that playful smile that never seemed to stray from his face.

His eyes swept over to his younger sister, Hermione, and then finally, me. "Well? You gonna let a handsome lad stand here all day or are you gonna have him sit with you?" He asked. His gaze flicking over to my eyes then to the vacant seat next to me.

"Good Merlin, not beside me. I've had about enough of your sales talk yesterday." Ginny groaned and scooted closer to Hermione, cementing her claim of not wanting her brother next to her.

Fred snorted, waving his sister off. "Nobody wants to sit beside your stinky butt anyway, Ginnikins. Only a mental person would do something like that." Hermione, who was in fact sat beside Ginny, heard Fred's jest and shot him a glare. In return, he flashed her another cheeky smile.

I sighed, a small smile crossing my lips. I looked up at Fred, feeling in the mood to go along with his little quip. "Of course not- how rude of me. Wouldn't want those handsome legs to get tired now, don't we, Fred?" I said, expressing pretend courtesy and patted the spot beside me.

"A sound mind, a sound mind. See? (nickname) understands me better than you do, sis." Fred voices to Ginny. The youngest Weasley stuck her tongue out slightly at her brother before turning back to her notes in front of her.

Feeling content with their daily dose of sibling banter, Fred swung one of his long legs over the wooden bench, followed by the other and sat down. He propped his arms on the table and clasped his hands together, leaning forward in a relaxed yet engaged manner. His face turns towards me, his eyes holding that combination of mischief and awe I knew all too well.

Basking in the ambience of both Ginny and Fred, it brings back many memories since the day I was first invited to their home at The Burrow. I'm really thankful for the Weasley's. They offered me their home when I occasionally couldn't return to mine.

I was born from a Muggle mother and a Pure-Blood father, so I think you can guess how I've been treated my first few years here.

Hermione, being born from Muggle parents, understood what it was like and sympathized with me, even offering me her unwavering friendship, which I'm terribly grateful for.

And through her, I met Ginny. The 'seemingly timid but actually such a joy to be with' kind of girl. I've confided in her about many a thing, even my most embarrassing of problems.

And through Ginny, I met... the twins.

Fred and George Weasley.

The infamous twins whose personalities are as fiery and as passionate as the color of their hair.

Oh, I can't even begin to describe the absolute menace they've been since we've become acquainted. They've tested my patience in a way no one else has, even lecturing me how to fight off the students who decided to try their hand at insulting me. But then again, it was them who've brought the taste of rule breaking into my almost always routine life. That it was okay to bend the flow of how I've been doing things and to embrace what it meant to have fun. And of course, those had their own repercussions, but that's for another day.

Despite their flamboyant dynamic, and the fact that the whole school knows of their troublesome antics- they're decent men. Really!

And speaking of twins..

"Where's George?" I asked in a low murmur, leaning my body a bit closer to Fred while my eyebrows were knitted together in wonder at where the other tall ginger was.

Fred pursed his lips, tilting his own frame closer to mine in response. "Dad had him called to The Burrow for something. Don't know why he needed just one of us when we're practically the same people."

I chuckled and turned my face slightly towards him. This made the one corner of his mouth twitch up just a little bit higher. "Maybe your dad just needed the one who's a little more sane in the brain."

Fred gasped, putting a hand over his chest where his heart would be and inclined his torso back as if he were shot by the bullets of my seemingly painful jest.

"You wound me, woman!" He replied, his tone theatrical. "I am in fact, the most able minded person in this whole school. Save for you and that Callaghan bloke."

The moment that name slipped past his lips, I felt my own eyes darken. That godforsaken name, and that godforsaken excuse of a man. Oh, how I wished Unforgivables could be used legally nowadays.

Fred noticed my sudden shift in demeanor and took that as his cue to stop the banter. His smile dropping into a faint grin as he gently nudges my shoulder with his.

"He bothering you? That Callaghan." He asked. His eyes never straying from mine despite me looking down at the table.

I sighed and gave a nod. "Thought you would've noticed by now." I replied to him, glancing sideways to meet his view.

"I was never really around when it happens to you. A pain in the ass, he seems. Miserable thing." Fred murmured. Despite his seemingly nonchalant response, he failed to hide the slight whitening of his knuckles from clenching his hands too hard. A habit of his I've grown to notice when he'd grow a bit irritable. But I suppose all is normal when it comes to feeling that way for a friend who's getting picked on...

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The day was finally coming to a close, with me almost having learned something from my classes.

Almost.

It's like everything I've gotten down just the hours before seem to completely vanish from my head the moment I see Set. He's a walking fight or flight for me.

I've never really thought about if my school life had always been this shitty, or my week just had a bad start- but Set Callaghan was practically outside of all my classes' classrooms. He even tried to play it off as him 'coincidentally' happening upon me as I exited the rooms.

But you know who else was in almost all of my classes this week, though?

Fred Weasley.

These past few days, each encounter he's had with Callaghan since knowing what he'd been doing to me grew more and more brutal by the next. Insults I never even knew existed come flying out of his mouth the moment his eyes land on the Slytherin.

If it's a fight or flight, it's always going to be fight for Fred.

I've always known Fred to be the more reckless twin compared to George who was a little more tame in terms of tomfoolery around the school. While I did mingle with both the twins, the reason above was also the cause on why I hung out with George a little more than his brother when we first met. I was simply afraid of standing out. I mean, Fred used to scare me, but in a good way. A way that intrigued me enough to want to get closer to him.

So I guess all those years of companionship did bloom into fruition eventually. While I still undoubtedly hung with George, Ginny, and the twins alike- me and Fred's relationship definitely improved as well. We're close enough now to be sharing a straw or a cup when we haven't enough money for drinks.

Being the last to exit my History of Magic classroom and leaving Fred inside who told me to go ahead, the golden glow of the setting sun that casted on the castle's frame greeted my eyes. Almost cleansing my mind of all the worries that plagued me the hours before.

Hogwarts at any point and time of day was truly breathtaking. I don't think I'll ever get tired of the views it's been offering me all these years.

I decided to wait for Fred since walking back to our house dormitories together had become our usual routine, with him dropping me off at my dorm first. I found a spot on the stone framing of the hallway and settled down, patiently waiting for him to appear.

I placed my books on my lap, resting my hands on either side of my thighs and began to gently swing my legs back and forth.

As I waited, I observed the hustle and bustle of campus life unfolding around me. Students moved through the corridors, chatting with friends or walking alone. Professors darted about, hurrying to their destinations, and the sounds of conversation blended with the natural soundscape. Oh, and there's Callaghan coming in this way, too.

Wait- Callaghan?

I indeed did not see wrong despite my deteriorating eyesight. There he was, walking up to me with his hands in his pockets. That same, arrogant air about him.

I took in a deep breath through my nose, closing my eyes and cursed silently in the process. I know he sees how physically and mentally done I am with him, but the fucker doesn't know when to give it up.

I don't look at him. Instead, my eyes stay glued to the History of Magic's classroom door, praying that Fred just come out already.

"There you are. What are you doing here? Waiting for your little knight in shining armor, are you? How cute." Callaghan said with a smirk, his tone conceited.

He leaned against the wall. His gaze fixed on me, trying to exude a sense of superiority. His words laced with sarcasm, clearly mocking my wait for Fred. He had his arms crossed, standing in a relaxed yet confrontational pose, waiting for my reaction.

I wasn't gonna give him the satisfaction.

"Don't you have anything better to do other than stand there and act like a proper ass, Callaghan? Do something useful with yourself for once." I said. My voice laced with equally as much annoyance as his own tone carried fragile superiority.

He scoffs and pushed himself off the wall, walking to stand a bit closer to me.

"I prefer this better than any of my pastimes, and I like a woman with a sharp tongue. Don't think that's enough to drive me away, love." He replied. Reaching a hand out to take hold of my wrist. "Now come. Why don't I walk you back to your dorm?" His tone was soft. Eerie in a sense that made my stomach churn.

A small groan escaped my mouth as I attempted to free my hand from his grasp. I quickly moved my panicked thoughts aside and stayed put despite his tugging, my eyes now locked onto his face, glaring daggers.

"Let go." I say through gritted teeth. The students going about their way now either stopped to watch or had their heads turned before continuing on. The attention was on us again. On me.

"Come on, it's just a small walk. You need your little red head to come and carry you home? What do you see in that rake anyway?" Alright. Now that struck a nerve.

I can tolerate a lot of things, even the nastiest of insults about me and my being as a whole. I'm used to it. But my closest friends and family are topics I would never brush off. He was a dead man to me this very moment.

"You-!"

Before I even got the chance to finish, a loud and all familiar voice boomed from inside the History of Magic's classroom.

"Come off it, Callaghan, you miserable sod! Why don't you choose someone your own size should you find someone!" Fred exclaims from the other side of the door, causing the passing students to jump. "You're lucky Hogwarts was kind enough to accept house elves to participate in classes. You should be damn bloody grateful!" My face flashes a look of being caught off guard at Fred's brutal combination of names. I glanced at Callaghan who's expression was far from happy.

"Thought my hearing was goin' a bit wonky and heard an Imp out here wailing about. S'just you, mate." Fred mused loudly, closing the door behind him and walked straight over to me- yanking Set's hand off my wrist and pulled me away from him.

Fred wraps an arm around my shoulder and drew me snugly by his side. My eyes subtly widened the same time I felt my heartbeat beginning to pick up. Even more so now that I've seen the small crowd of students gathered around us.

How odd. We've shared straws and drinks before, so how is this any different? My stomach that had been churning in pure disgust earlier now felt tingly.

"Shove off, Weasley, I'm talking to her, not you. Hasn't mummy taught you to stay out of other people's business?" Set spat, his annoyance at the taller man evident.

I gulped, looking up at Fred and expected to see him fuming.

But no. The man was smiling. On the brink of laughter.

"Ah, more than yours did, I'm sure." He shrugged. "And I've known her for too long, mate. What's her business is mine, now. Except for the lady stuff, of course. You interested in lady stuff too?" Fred teased, leaning closer to Set's face. His tone nauseatingly condescending as his own stature easily towered over Callaghan's. The Slytherin grimaces, clicking his tongue and turned to his side, ready to leave.

"You really enjoy pushing my buttons, don't you? But I guess you'd have nothing else to do, being so poor and all." He says, giving Fred a once over with an evident look of disgust painted on his face.

Not sure if I even had high blood pressure, but I sure as hell felt it rising. My hands itched to chuck my books straight at that bastard's nose. Fred's jaw clenched momentarily, his irritation flaring at the thought of Set bringing up his family's financial status- all the more ridiculing it. Nonetheless, he kept his composure. But I just knew he'd lunge at Set right then and there if he was given the chance.

I felt Fred squeeze my shoulder gently while his arm stayed wrapped around me, telling me not to do anything brash- which was quite unusual for Fred since normally, he'd take the initiative and pull something right about now.

Set scoffs cockily, taking Fred's silence as his victory. "You think you're so damn clever, Weasley. Just you and your ass wait." Set commented one last time before turning around and walking off, shoving the students that didn't move out of his way.

"Bastard." Fred mumbled under his breath before storming off, leaving me standing alone amidst the dispersing crowd of students.

I never saw Fred at dinner that evening.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Two days had passed since that encounter with Set outside the History of Magic's classroom. Two days since I last heard a word from him. Two days of peace I wish had lasted longer.

Following that came the long awaited Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. A constant bloodbath, if you ask me.

Hermione and Ginny also joined the spectators, supporting their house team from their respective stands. Unfortunately, the separation meant that we weren't able to enjoy the game together as I had hoped. However, their support kept the energy high, and the game was a thrilling spectacle to witness.

Screams and jeers faded then cut into my train of thought. The same way that awkward air settled in between Fred and I after Callaghan's uncalled comment about his family's finances.

I eventually found Fred despite his reluctance to see me and tried my best at comforting him, then we never brought up that topic or talked about it ever again. It was forgotten. As if it never happened.

All the hard hours of practices, joint matches, and unaccounted injuries through the heat and rain I've seen Fred power through that led up to this day wasn't enough to calm the anxiety gnawing at the pits of my stomach. Was he mentally fit to play right now? What if I didn't talk to him well enough that night? And there's another thing, but I can't seem to put my finger on it. I don't like the feeling.

My eyes danced around the Quidditch pitch, taking everything in. The electrifying atmosphere so scarily contagious that it got my heartbeat pounding harder and harder with each passing second. Despite my anxiousness, a mix of excitement and anticipation still brewed within me knowing I get to see Fred play again. A pity I couldn't see George in on the action too, though.

Lee Jordan announces the beginning of the match through the Magical Megaphone, followed by a moment of silence before the whistle finally blew. Immediate mayhem took over the moment the high pitched ring echoed throughout the large space. Blurs of red and gold, and green and silver began shooting across the field- occupying my line of sight.

As if on muscle memory, I immediately began searching for that head of ginger hair amidst the chaos. The almost god-like speed of the players made it practically impossible for me to make out anyone's features, which says a lot because of all the other Chasers, Seekers, Keepers, and Beaters present on the field, Fred had tresses that stood out the most.

Bludgers that moved almost maniacally were flying about, causing members of both teams to get pushed and shoved in and out of the air with the occasional curse words and taunting thrown around to each other. Quite fascinating to hear what sports and adrenaline could have the human mind come up with in terms of vocabulary.

Within the first ten minutes since the game began, points were earned, and points were lost- yet I still haven't seen Fred anywhere. Not in the sky, and certainly not on the ground. It was actually pathetic how obvious it was that I hadn't been focusing on the match entirely in my attempts to find the Weasley boy.

Unease dawned on me as the reason I was so anxious before the match was now fixated on my form while he hovered on his broom before me from across the stands. Wooden club in hand with a conniving look not even his goggles could hide.

Set Callaghan was a Beater for Slytherin.

His face was strewn with blood and dirt as he threw caution to the wind, not paying any mind to the fact that a rogue Bludger could come and knock him off his broom at any moment. Though personally, I wouldn't mind that happening.

"God, Fred, where are you?" I mumbled to myself. Worry now replacing what little excitement I had left.

Ignoring the Slytherin Beater's laser-like stares, I went closer to the barricade. Placing both my hands on the railing and leaned over just enough to see below as the wind brushes my hair over my face.

Nothing.

I was almost fully convinced that Fred had gotten himself injured and was taken away, or he sat out the match in light of what happened just the days before.

And I hoped to Merlin it was the latter.

He's had injuries and a couple broken bones before but always played it off for sport. It wouldn't really be anything new for Fred if he did end up that way, but I think broken bones are the least of my worries right now.

While I was beginning to wallow in the pool of my own doubts, a mass of red and gold shot up into the sky with speed quick enough to send any poor soul into a whiplash before slowly descending to hover close to me by the stands.

Howls and cheers of support erupted even louder behind me, helping me realize who it was.

"Why so blue? Missing me already?" Fred teases me with a smile on his face. His tone carrying the usual air of playfulness as if he hadn't been worrying me just seconds before.

He looked a mess. Again, nothing new. His hair had become disheveled from the wind and rain that blessed the field during the game. Clothes dirty and in disarray, his face marked with dirt and blood from gashes that were now beginning to scab over.

It was actually maddening to me seeing the way his eyes still held the same unchanging glint even in times of inconvenience. It was one of the things I greatly admired about him. Something I still couldn't get a grasp of for myself.

"You knew I was looking for you?" I yelled at him from where I was standing. An ecstatic smile painted on my lips.

I wanted nothing more than to call him an idiot for making me worry, but the relief his presence gave me right this moment was much bigger than my need for nagging.

Looking at me speak with a look of visible relief, his eyes locked onto mine with the same intensity a Chaser would have as they hunted the Snitch.

Unwavering.

Intense.

It may or may not have always been this way, but something had changed about the way he looked at me. Almost like a hidden secret under those coquettish brown orbs waiting to be discovered. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but perhaps we hadn't ogled at each other long enough for me to notice before.

"You're hard to miss, you silly goose!" He exclaimed. His cheeks stretched with masked endearment as he smiled at me.

My cheeks grew warm, thinking if he saw me looking for him the whole duration of the game. "I couldn't see you! But that's not important. Callaghan's on the field, so be careful." I warned him and he followed with a scoff.

"Where d'ya think these scars came from? The git was tailing me from under the stands and tried ramming me into the planks! And besides, I'll go easier on him since I respect women!" He exclaims and flashed a toothy grin. His hands casually adjusting the grip on his broomstick.

But before I could get another word in, a yell of warning from Fred's teammate slices through the barrier between us and the progressing game behind him, putting an end to our little chat. Though realistically, now was not the best time to be having a conversation anyway.

"Oi, Weasley! Behind you!"

And as quick as he swooped in to mock me of my missing him, he reacted quickly. Snapping his head around and swung at the Bludger that was headed straight for him- countering the attack that could've easily sent him flying off of his broom.

His gaze flicked over to me one last time, breathing heavily before flying off without another word.

But now I'd seen him. Talked to him. I had my sights set and could finally watch the game without much worry. If Callaghan doesn't try anything else, that is.

In all my years of watching the twins play Quidditch, I never noticed how ruthless Fred was on the field. Not as aggressive compared to how George played, but ruthless nonetheless. Hitting Bludgers harder and harder with every opportunity presented to him, each time showing calculated intensity which sent Slytherin's players spiralling off their brooms and earning the Gryffindor team more points. He's definitely more of a skill and force kind of guy.

By force, I mean he can be a little too dedicated to the essence of Quidditch at times. That one instance where he and George retaliated using "physical" resolutions when they got a call-in from Madam Hooch for a foul... yeah. Definitely entertaining to watch from the stands, but I wouldn't want to be in the shoes of that poor guy who flagged the twins down for elbowing him.

Fred sped around the arena, practically slicing through the air with his wooden club in hand. He was in his element. Battered up, sure, but this was his standard for being in pristine condition for a good game. Means you're doing it right, he told me.

"What's Quidditch without a few broken bones?" Fred's voice echoed in my head. I recalled him telling me that when the twins first introduced me to the game. Ginny and Hermione did the rest of the explaining after. I used to think it was absolutely barbaric, and I kind of still do to be honest.

But just as Fred was about to catch up to the opposing teams' Beater, Callaghan tallies in right beside him. Not colliding, just merely brushing shoulders. But this is Set I'm looking at. He wouldn't settle for mere shoulder brushing.

A couple of seconds later, Fred noticeably outbalances from his broom earning gasps from me and the whole pitch as Lee Jordan emphasizes on the situation through his commentary.

He quickly grabs onto the body of the broom in an attempt to stabilize himself, but Callaghan doesn't seem to let down just yet.

He was pulling maneuvers to take Fred's broom straight from under him.

Fred managed to avert himself away from Callaghan's nasty schemes, but ended up losing control and began spiralling down onto the sandy field- landing with an audible thud earning choruses of "ooh's" And "ouches" from the students around me.

"Shit!" I yelled, wasting no time and pushed through the compact groups of people to quickly descend the platform where I watched from.

I ran out onto the soaking field where both Gryffindor and Slytherin's players alike stood on opposite sides of each other to get a grasp on what had happened. A heated debate began to ensue between Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint on whose to blame for the Gryffindor Beater's sudden fall from grace. Madam Hooch stood in between as the referee.

Fred's eyes widened momentarily as he takes in the sight of me rushing towards him with concern etched on my face.

"Fred!" I exclaimed. Carrying my now wet shoes through the mud and wet grass- pushing past the members of Slytherin's team before falling to my knees beside Fred who was sat up on the sand. His broom only a couple meters away from him.

It definitely took him a while to regain his composure after that mishap. Beneath his layers of clothing laid skin that was bruised and battered from the hard landing. The sand beneath him was damp and uncomfortable, sticking to his skin and clothes. The wet grains dug into my flesh as I scampered to get closer to him.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my hands frozen and hovering in front of me not knowing what to do. My eyes scanning his face and body for anything bad or possibly broken.

Usually, most people would have immediately complied and pointed out the area where they were hurt. But this was Fred Weasley. The man never takes anything seriously.

"Hey, hey, relax. There's just one of me, I'm not going anywhere." He managed to chuckle in between ragged breaths. His eyes glimmered with amusement at my frantic state as he studied me. Even smiling pained the scars on his cheeks, but it was impossible for him not to do so in this moment.

"Well, he deserved it!" Callaghan's scream thundered from behind us. The arena's whispers getting louder and louder at the unknown circumstances happening below the stands.

I rolled my eyes, returning my gaze back to the injured Weasley in front of me after coolly glancing at Set who was stood over my shoulder. Thankfully, his attention was on Madam Hooch who was giving him an earful.

Fred, observing the situation around him, attempted to laugh at the predicament Set got himself into, only to be plunged into a coughing fit before wincing from the pain jolting through his torso.

"Damn. A real wrench, this one." He groaned, rubbing his ribcage gently with a slight frown on his dirtied lips.

It took a couple of seconds, but Fred's facial expression turned from one of pain, to one of aggravation. "Scrawny git!" He exclaimed out of the blue. Tilting his body to get a better view of the Slytherin behind me. "That the best you could do, eh?! Your nan could do better than that-!"

I quickly cut him off by slapping my hand over his mouth as more muffled profanities sputtered out from behind it. Thankfully, they weren't understandable anymore.

I scoffed. "You're unbelievable. I don't think you'd like detention on top of your injuries, yeah?" He shook his head while his eyes kept on mine. "Where does it hurt?" I asked.

He paused for a moment after I cautiously lowered my hand from his mouth. An idea visibly flashes in his mind, making his eyebrows twitch up quickly. Barely noticeable if I didn't look hard enough.

He tugged at the pant sleeve of his Quidditch bottoms until it rode up just enough to point at a spot on his upper thigh that was perfectly unscathed.

"Here, miss. Oh, Merlin..." He feigned being in pain, letting out a melodramatic groan. I carefully examined the area in question, searching for any signs of injury, but there was nothing amiss. Catching on to his antics, I rolled my eyes and shook my head, recognizing his dramatic behavior for what it was.

A smirk curled at the corners of my lips as I decided to amuse myself by playing along with his act. I knew he wasn't truly injured, but it was entertaining to see how far he would go with this performance. "Goodness. It does look really painful." I cooed, placing my hand over said injury. His skin grew hotter under my cool palm.

"Yeah.. they might have to chop it. Poor little ol' me. Legless. In my prime." He muttered, mocking his younger brother Ron the one time his own leg got given to him by a Whomping Willow.

"Oh, come off it, you ginger clot! If George were here, I'd have him take care of you instead." I retorted, smacking the area where his supposed painful affliction was, drawing a pained chuckle out of him.

The jests slowly faded, eventually dying down. Both of us silent and unmoving, just looking into each other's eyes with our breaths meshing together as we tried to catch ourselves. The loud and chaotic atmosphere seemed to disappear until all I could see was him and him alone. I could practically feel my heart lodged in my throat.

Fred glanced behind me for a moment, breaking the almost intimate moment between us. His expression seemingly confounded before leaning in closer to me.

"Bugger's coming this way and I have an idea. Do you trust me?" He mumbled. His breath tickling the apple of my cheek.

"What?" I whispered as I looked at him puzzled. My eyebrows knitted together to express my confusion, but I nodded nonetheless.

"You can give me a proper lecturing with my Beater later."

I'm not sure what he meant or what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't the part that happened next. It made me really think about whether this was a new beginning, or a continuation of a foundation we had built all those years ago.

With a sudden, almost involuntary gesture, he wrapped an arm around the back of my neck, pulling us closer together. He leaned in, the soft curve of his mouth hovering just above my own. His lips parted as a slight twitch lifted the corners of his mouth, and I drew in a sharp breath as the space between us evaporated- replaced by the softness and warmth of his mouth covering mine. The kiss was like a blanket, a heady mix of warm earth and something strangely metallic, enveloping my senses entirely.

For a moment, Fred didn't know what to do. He was frozen, almost taken aback by the kiss himself, and I could say the same for my part, too. But I knew Callaghan was watching from behind. With this being my chance to finally get him off my back, I had to play it well.

I wrapped my hand over Fred's wrist after gathering the courage to move our lips together. For a brief moment, it seemed like he was taken aback by my sudden show of initiative. But almost as quickly, his surprise melted away. He soon relaxed and matched my rhythm, reciprocating the intensity of the kiss.

It felt almost effortlessly perfect, the way our mouths pieced together. The kiss was unexpectedly tender. Could be because of Fred's vulnerable condition, but it was a stark contrast to the usual feverish intensity he was always known for. 

I stole a glance at Fred, only to find him doing the same. I noticed the way his gaze darted over my shoulder, and the suppressed chuckle that escaped his lips against mine. There was a hint of reluctance in the way he held onto me, not quite willing to break the kiss just yet. And I couldn't deny the same desire stirring within me- to hold onto this moment and prolong the newfound intimacy for just a little bit longer.

Suddenly, reality came crashing back in and I remembered the setting and our unexpected audience. Quickly pushing Fred away by his chest and standing up, I turned to face Callaghan whose scowl made it clear he was not pleased with the scene he had witnessed. Our gaze locked in a silent stand-off. 

Then I stole a quick glance at Fred, who was awkwardly attempting to stand, before turning away, feeling utterly mortified. With a heavy heart and flushed cheeks, I walked off, leaving behind the tense scene and the complicated emotions swirling through the air.

Not long after, Fred appears at my side. Struggling to walk, but kept up with my pace.

"Callaghan, I want you in my office. Weasley! Get to Madam Pomfrey this instant or I shall drag you there myself!" Madam Hooch's voice echoed behind us. Fred yells back a quick response before averting his attention back to me.

"You should've seen their bloody faces when we kissed-" he cackled, only to change the subject when he noticed my less than lively expression. "Hey, I was trying my bestest to be gentle with you and all, but you went ahead and pulled whatever that was. But I mean, I can't blame you if you're totally in love with me-" Fred rambled as he ran his hand along the length of his arm with a foxy grin plastered on his face. He usually did that when he was in the mood to pull a nerve of mine.

"Nip it, Fred." I mumbled, slapping the same arm he had been rubbing. A loud smack reverberated around us from the impact.

"Yeowch! So cruel..." He said in pretend pity, immediately admitting defeat and went to soothe the area.

Shouldn't forget how he and George were the ones who showed me how fighting worked back in our earlier days as students. That slapping technique was also taught by the older twin himself. Wonder how he felt about it being used against him.

But luckily, Fred's disposition was much lighter now than how it was earlier. I don't know if I should be relieved or worried, though.

"Weren't you complaining about your hurting? You seem quite the jolly chap now." I commented as we turned in to the dressing rooms- taking refuge in between the cubbies filled with other players belongings. I could never get used to the smell.

Fred stood in front of me, his back hunched a bit as he balanced his weight on one foot. The blood on his cheek had dried, and so did the mud. His tresses looked like an earthquake went through them and left him with that tousled mess you call hair.

"Your kiss probably did all the healing work so I wouldn't have to go see Madam Pomfrey." He ribbed casually, causing my cheeks to heat up.

I turned my body away and crossed my arms before he could see the effect he so easily placed on me. He was so unconsciously charming it made me want to sock him in the face. It was irritating at the best of times.

"Don't be ridiculous." I said, returning my body back to face him. "Well I best get you to the Hospital Wing now, don't I? Wouldn't want our beloved Weasley to wither away." I mocked him, causing his already visible grin to grow wider. He always consider it a job well done for himself when I snapped back with my own witty remarks.

I walked a slight ways out of the cubbies and looked back to see if he was following behind me. Instead, he was just stood there looking at me. Hand on his hip and all. Like he was expecting me to do something.

"What? You want to make out again?" I joked.

"You're a cheeky one, l/n." He said, his voice slightly strained with a faint smile playing on his lips. "Can't keep your hands off me now, can you?"

I let out a deep sigh and rolled my eyes before striding over and linked my arm with his. He reciprocated by tightening his grasp, drawing me even closer. The physical closeness was familiar, but the sensation that grew within me, spreading from deep within my gut to the very tips of my fingers, felt strange and utterly unfamiliar. It was something I couldn't quite put my finger on just yet.

"They really might chop it." He whispered into my ear as we staggered off to Madam Pomfrey.

His arm didn't see the end of the techniques he'd taught me on the way there, that's for sure.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Fred got sent into detention.

Am I surprised? No.

Was it something related to Callaghan again? Yes.

Even after the scolding handed to him by Madam Hooch, Set didn't listen. But then again, does he ever?

The week after the games, Fred was finally in high spirits again. All healed up and ready to take on the school with all the antics he had up his sleeves. Even more so now that George was finally back from The Burrow.

The moment he was sent away by Madam Pomfrey, the first person he wanted to prank was none other than my creepy and vexing "admirer" himself.

He knew he had a job to entertain Hogwarts' fellow students, but one, and one thing only was on his mind.

Set Callaghan.

It all started when I was at the Astronomy Tower getting my stargazing in for my classes. That son of a banshee thought it was funny to corner me and yank a piece of my hair, pummel me with his pathetic insults, and end it with a nauseatingly flirty comment.

Little did I know that Fred had been behind one of the pillars- peeking at us and waiting for the perfect moment to set off a few Filibuster Fireworks he and George had gotten their hands on a few days before to prank one of our professors. He thought this would be enough to send Callaghan away for good.

As the firework burst into a familiar and infamous twinkle, it flickered and died out far too quickly, leaving behind a fleeting glow.

Just as Fred began to wonder about the sudden malfunction, a shadow loomed over behind him. He remained crouched. Still, and unmoving. He looked up and over his shoulder, seeing Professor Umbridge with her infuriating smile- looking down at him with her wand she used to put the firework out.

"As I have made abundantly clear, Mr. Weasley, I am an exceptionally tolerant woman. I believe you are well aware of the consequences for misbehaving at this time of night." She says, her voice remaining unwaveringly calm and deceptively sweet, though there is an undercurrent of menace to her words anybody would catch on to. She leans closer, her gaze fixed on him. "Detention. In my office."

Defiant yet complied anyway, Fred slowly got up on his feet and was ready to follow Umbridge into her office to serve his time. That was, until one of the fireworks actually sets off, whistling and swirled speedily into Set Callaghan's rear with a loud crack, not really giving the Slytherin any time to react.

Word going around from Madam Pomfrey said his left buttock was never the same again.

Now me, George, Ginny, and Harry- who so graciously lent us his Invisibility Cloak- tagged along for our impromptu late night rescue mission.

"Right. So you wear this, get in there, and snag 'im." George repeats the plan again as I draped the cloak over my shoulders, leaving me with a head that looked as if it were floating.

"Why do I have to do this again?" I asked, shooting uneasy glances at the trio before me.

"Well, better you than George. I say they'd be in there longer if he tried to bust Fred out." Ginny commented, earning a nod of agreement from Harry before leaning in to whisper to me. "Also, with what happened out in the field a week ago, mum couldn't be happier for you and Fred. Said he finally got his act together and would love to have you over again for Christmas."

Uh, okay. Definitely not something I'd like to linger on right when I'm about to face danger head on in just a few seconds. Got his act together? What did Molly even mean? Someone must've told her about me and Fred's kiss.

"She should be asleep now. Go." Harry said, to which I inclined my head one more time before fully engulfing myself in the heavy fabric.

"Save me poor Gred, miss!" George whispered in a low voice from behind me. "He's innocent!"

After giving him a nervous thumbs up, I slowly opened the heavy wooden door. With light steps, I walked inside only to be met with the view of Fred's back facing me as he was sat on a table- writing something down quietly.

I remained cautious. Glancing over to see the woman clad in pink fast asleep with her teacup dangling just by her index finger.

Slowly, now.

Slowly..

Sloooowly...

And before I knew it, I was finally beside Fred's table where he was jotting multiple things down on a piece of parchment- a certain authoritarian sounding phrase most likely instructed by Umbridge for him to write over and over. Poor thing.

Without wasting a second more, I skillfully threw the excess fabric over Fred without causing much noise. I grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his seat, so we were now chest-to-chest and facing each other. His posture ducked down slightly to accommodate my height.

He was surprised, that much was for certain. But it didn't take him long enough to recognize that it was me under the cloak with with him.

"Oh, hello, you." He purred. That smirk of his evident in the way he sounded. "Have you come to rescue me, or are you that eager for another kiss?"

If his teasing weren't enough- his breath fanning over my lips just made this all the more worse for me. It's actually humiliating how quickly I'd lose my composure over his wit nowadays.

"Stop messing about, Fred." I whispered, checking on Umbridge again. "We're here to break you out... Callaghan deserved what he got."

Fred lets out a quiet chuckle. "I may have been a bad influence on you. But you're sure you don't want another kiss?" He asked. "If only you knew the things the girls around here would do for a chance with me, and here you are rejecting such a generous offer. How ungrateful." He declared, putting on his little act to rouse a reaction from me again. I responded with a quick and lighthearted scoff.

"Are you seriously pouting over this, Weasley?"

"A bit."

"But Callaghan's not here. There's no reason for us to."

"Doesn't matter if he's here or not. Atleast he knows I kiss you better than he ever will. Not that he'd ever get a chance to anyways."

Suddenly... the air felt a bit heavier. Almost suffocating like it was weighing down on my shoulders. My heart rate began picking up, drumming against my ears.

I felt something envelop one of my hands. My fingers intertwining with another set of cool digits. Funnily enough, only Fred and I's hands turned cold when we were nervous. And from all the years I've known him, he's the kind of guy that rarely gets nervous or hesitates in whatever he does.

I stuttered. My tone wavering despite my best efforts. "Well.. your plan didn't really work out though, did it? Your kiss. He's still after me like a damn dog."

Fred snorted. "Callaghan probably thought I hit my head too hard after that fall and went mental. Or it was some kind of freak accident where we both just magically ended up snogging in the middle of the field."

"You know, a few people definitely think we're going out now because of you. More or less sleeping together with how we looked out there." I admitted awkwardly, unconsciously playing with his fingers.

He returned the gesture back by caressing my own, moving along with my touches. The odd feeling in my stomach before wasn't so subtle anymore. It was eating away at the thoughts I'd been trying to brush off these past few weeks.

"Definitely could make that happen. Although your kiss was passable at best, I for one, have never gotten a bad review." He said and I playfully slapped his arm in retaliation. I knew, but never used to care about the other women he'd kissed before. Now, it felt... wrong. That his lips had touched others that weren't my own. Did he kiss them with the same care? Did he look at them the way he did to me when we pulled away? It was those thoughts that kept me up and ate away at my crumbling resolve.

And I'm thinking all of this when I don't even know how he truly feels about me. Smart, aren't I?

The tension was building at a painfully unavoidable rate. A rate where I'm able to savour the suspense a bit better compared to the hasty stunt we pulled in the middle of that Quidditch field that one rainy afternoon. Our bodies were so close I could hear Fred's own heartbeat beating even louder over mine. But surely it was just the adrenaline of having the woman equivalent of a demon snoring away just a couple meters away from us.

I bit my lip, hesitating a bit before tugging at his hand gently. "Make it quick." I whispered.

"What?"

"Your kiss."

"You don't seem too happy, though. Will I be slapped again after this?"

"Depends on what you do."

Because of Fred's usually boisterous nature, I expected another hasty and clumsy kiss. But no. It actually took him quite a while to do anything. As if he were thinking of the best way to approach this. To approach me.

In my mind, Fred knew that I was his closest friend, second to George. A long-time buddy and family friend, and maybe that's all I'll ever be to him. But even with his rowdy self did he know that overwhelming me was crossing a boundary he never dared to do.

With one of our hands occupied and entangled with one another's, he reached up with his free one- cupping my chin with his thumb and index finger. And instead of reeling me in to finally kiss me, he tilted my face slightly to the side. The gentle gesture surprising me quite a bit.

And then finally, his mouth met mine. Only, not exactly. He kissed me on the corner of my lips. And then he moves to the other side, planting another tender kiss there. I felt my chest just about ready to burst.

His hands were cold, but his warm lips provided an almost endearing contrast to him. I never know what he's thinking most of the time, but it was traits like these that help me understand him a bit more.

"Only the corners? Pathetic." I breathed, teasing him when he pulled away.

"You didn't punch me, though. That's a win."

"Only because Umbridge could wake from your infernal yelling."

If only I'd gotten my hands on Hermione's Time Turner. I would have used it to go back in time and smack some sense into both me and Fred to stop dallying around before "Umbrage" woke up.

In short, we were caught.

The Invisibility Cloak was stripped from both me and Fred, revealing us to everyone in an embarrassingly intimate position, still wrapped in each other's arms, and the door to Umbridge's office swung open, showing the other three affiliates to this less than grand operation, posed like a bunch of deer caught in headlights.

"Merlin's lacy knickers, you got him!" George exclaimed, completely disregarding the situation and rejoiced at the "rescue" of his brother.

I could see Ginny and Harry mentally facepalming themselves, it was almost comical.

If it weren't for Professor McGonagall, the five of us would've been kept in detention until dawn. Instead, she had managed to successfully persuade Professor Umbridge into giving us a lighter sentence. Writing "I must behave" back to back on parchment. Well, for the other three atleast.

She had me and Fred do "I will keep my hands to myself" instead.

Absolutely horrific.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Never thought I'd see the day where I start second guessing my own emotions. Especially for one of my own friends.

I've been restless, just lingering on these feelings that have sprung from soil which I thought was barren this whole time.

I tried coming up with excuses to tell myself what I've been feeling was all just a misunderstanding my brain managed to mix something else up with.

Like, we're friends. We've always been friends, and that's all we'll ever be. That's all I'll ever be at least.

I'm talking nonsense now, aren't I?

It couldn't be because of the way I always see him protecting me. Defending me in ways no one man ever has. Albeit, he does it in a few vulgar ways, but my point still stands. But even then, I've been taking care of myself before he came along so it couldn't be that.

Maybe it was the way we always joked together?

Or was it the way he looked at me?

Kissed me..?

Jumping gargoyles, someone take my heart away from me. I'm in love with Fred Weasley and it's scaring me more than anything.

"God, just please do me a favor and one of you kill me now." I groaned, running my hands over my face before slamming my head down onto the table.

Me, Hermione, and Ginny had a bit of free time in between our respective classes and decided to head over to the Study Hall to do a bit of light reading together.

It's been a while since we did something together like this, so it did lift my spirits a bit. However, when the subject of me and Fred came up, I lost my own mouth's restraint and ended up confiding in the girls about my conflicting feelings for him.

Surprisingly, they took it pretty well.

"I thought you both were already dating, though. I'm quite surprised." Hermione commented, removing her attention from her opened book to look at me and began fidgeting with the quill entangled loosely in her fingers.

"It was pretty obvious." Ginny said, following Hermione.

"What was?" I asked, my face contorting in mental agony as I raised my head slightly from the table's cold surface. A faint red mark was visible on my forehead, a result of hitting it against the cold wood.

"The feelings between the both of you."

I sat up, rubbing my hand over my head and feeling the messy hair that now resembled a bird's nest. "He was merely protecting a friend. There's nothing more to it." I argued.

Hermione reached out and gently untangled the knots I had caused. Her gesture a sisterly and comforting one that I wished I had experienced earlier on in life.

Ginny piped into the conversation with a hushed tone, the last words barely more than a whisper. "And I believe Fred would think otherwise." There was an implication in her words, as if she knew something I did not.

"He would never see us as anything more than good mates. He probably only did it out of pity. " I said. My cheeks heating up at a few memories that were resurfacing, causing the change in subject. "You should've seen that stupid grin on his face. He just couldn't resist getting his jokes in every time he scared Callaghan away. He loved it so much."

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a knowing look. When they turned back to me, it was clear that the conversation had shifted to another topic.

"If denial were a person, it would definitely be you." Hermione says. "And besides, friends don't just 'casually' snog each other." She added, closing her book and resting her cheek against her hand. A smug smile on her beautifully shaped lips.

"Not once." Ginny pipes in.

"Or twice." Hermione said, finishing their duo act. Harry ended up telling her about me and Fred's awkward predicament back in Professor Umbridge's office. I'll get him back for that, later. Sorry, Ginny.

"What if I'm just misunderstanding the whole thing? Misunderstanding him? I mean, he's like that with nearly everybody." I said, leaning my arms against the table. My eyebrows furrowed, and my expression pensive.

"You know," Ginny said thoughtfully, placing her hand on my forearm. I shifted my gaze to meet hers. "Growing up with Fred and George taught me anything's possible as long as you've got nerve." I sighed and gave a couple of nods.

"As their sister however, it's important to me that they don't lead anyone on, especially one of my best friends. If that's the case, Fred and I are going to have a 'niiice' and a 'friendly' chat. Don't worry, y/n." Ginny ended her statement with a sincere smile, and I found myself agreeing with her sentiment. For Harry's sake, I hoped he never found himself on the wrong side of Ginny's wrath. Guess the Weasley's just had a knack for these kinds of things.

"Don't mean to interrupt, but dungbrain's heading this way and he looks like he's on a mission." Hermione whispered, looking at someone from a distance across our table. Me and Ginny turned our heads to the indicated direction and saw Set walking over to us with newfound fervor in his strides.

"Oh hell no." I muttered, hurriedly gathering all my stuff and shutting my book. I was determined not to stick around for Set's arrival.

"Welp- that's my cue. Thank you Hermione, Gin, for always helping a girl in need and I love you both. See you later, ladies!" I said, bidding my frantic farewell and practially leapt over my seat, barely tripping over my own robes in my rush to leave.

I powerwalked to the door, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I heard Set's footsteps gaining ground behind me. If he caught me, who knows what he would say or do this time.

"Don't try anything, Callaghan, or you'll be having slugs in your knickers tonight!" Ginny yells after the Slytherin, only to get ignored. But he definitely heard her.

Shit, shit, shit, shit. How do I get away? Where do I go?What would Fred and George do? Oh, to Godric's grave with it!

Keeping my pace hasty, I tried my hand at fooling him and made a quick feint to the left as if I was headed in that direction. Thinking it worked, I looked behind me. He didn't fall for it. He was still very much tailing me, the rat bastard.

"Y/n!" He yelled out to me. My face wincing at the way my name rolled off his tongue. I tightly shut my eyes, curseing quietly into the wind. "Why is it always me!?"

I knew it wasn't allowed, but it was the only thing I could think of seeing as I had no real plan at all.

As Callaghan chased me through the corridors, I quickly took out and flicked my wand, casting the Confundus Charm in his direction. The spell hit him square in the chest, causing him to stumble and lose his bearings. He staggered, momentarily disoriented, as the charm worked its magic on his mind.

Taking advantage of the brief window I'd created, I darted towards the nearby library, pushing open the heavy oak doors and slipping inside just as Set shook off the charm and realized I was gone.

Checking behind me a second time to see if he wasn't there anymore, I sighed in relief when I was right.

Thankfully, not a lot of people were in the library at this hour. Just a few students reading, grabbing books for whatever they needed them for, and a couple more that were doing schoolwork with their tutors.

I briskly walked down the middle aisle, passing by shelves of neatly arranged books and the carts filled with them. I didn't have a specific destination in mind, but I was determined to find a place where Set wouldn't find me.

As I scanned the area for a suitable hiding spot, I paused after passing by a familiar figure bent over a table, casually immersed in a book. The figure's presence provided a moment of distraction from my current predicament.

I took a few steps backward until I came to a halt in front of that certain aisle. The sight I saw, or rather whom I saw, caught my attention almost immediately. It was a student I was very familiar with.

"Fred?" I called out to him. My chest heaving from all the speed walking.

He looked up from the book he was reading, his slightly messy hair adding to his charm. A warm smile spreads across his features as he observed me, greeting me with a gentle cock of his head.

"Ah, my favorite (Hogwarts house)." He says, straightening up from his previous position. His tone carried the usual air of playfulness. "Care to keep a lonely, good-looking man company?"

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my reply. The signs of exhaustion were evident in his eyes, suggesting that he had been absorbed in his reading for quite some time. I wondered how long he had been tucked away in this secluded spot, engrossed in whatever was written on those pages.

"Do I have a choice?" I asked. Adjusting the belongings I was carrying in my arms.

"Nope." He replied and pulled out the seat beside him, pretending to dust it off for me.

I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle as I made my way over to the table, carefully placing my belongings on top of it. Fred's focus shifted from the book in front of him to me, his eyes intently fixed on my every movement. There was a certain curiosity in his gaze as he observed me.

"So, what're you in here for? Is your new punishment being made to read for hours on end now?" I inquired, resting my arms on the table and locking eyes with him.

He reaches into his pant pocket and pulled out a recognizable pair of glasses. He slides them on with practiced ease and takes the book he was reading into his one of his hands.

"Studying."

"You study?"

"Is your name y/n?"

"Aren't those Harry's glasses?"

"Well, yeah. But he doesn't need to know."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a lift in my mood as I reached over and took the glasses from his face, carefully placing them in the pocket of my skirt. "Can't have you straining your eyes any more than you already have." I said, gesturing towards the book in his other hand, before looking back up at his face. His gaze now unshielded, he gave an amused grin.

"I'll return these to him for you." I said, patting my now occupied pocket.

"Now I can't see."

"You've got perfectly good eyesight, Frederick. And besides, Harry's the one that can't see now because of you."

"Always going to be the reasonable one, aren't you?"

We spent a good half hour chatting and talking just like we always do. Spending time with Fred and George was often synonymous with chaos, but it also brought me a sense of clarity and comfort. It was a nice break from the complexities of life, and for a moment, I was able to forget about the feelings I had for Fred and just relax in his company. The simplicity of our interactions was a welcome change, and I found myself feeling more at ease than I had in quite some time.

I really didn't want to think about anything right now. Basking in his company and laughing with him is enough.

Behind the scenes however, Callaghan entered the library. His eyes scanned the rows of shelves, searching for me before finally spotting me tucked away in a secluded aisle. He began to walk towards me, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

Me and Fred were fully engrossed in our conversation to really notice anything going on around us. But in that split second where I looked away from Fred's eyes did I notice Set approaching.

Ignoring the presence of others, including Fred who was literally beside me, Set continued on with a sly look on his face. Fred noticed my attention was just completely off of him at that point and observed my sudden change in demeanor. He looks to where my eyes were planted and saw the Slytherin towering over beside him.

Fred stood up from his seat, easily overcoming the height and air of superiority Callaghan was trying to exude over him.

"A little lost, are you? Librarian's over there." Fred spoke nonchalantly, growing tired of Callaghan's persistent schemes at this point. His tone flat as his head gestured to the direction towards the librarian's desk and attempted to dismiss Set quickly. But Set was not so easily deterred, and pressed on, even if it meant getting his hands dirty in the process.

"Oh, I know where the librarian is," he replied smoothly, his gaze never leaving me. "But I'm not here to borrow a book, Weasley. I'm here for something much more valuable."

I got up from my chair and stood behind Fred's tall stature. Not to hide, but to try and avoid him from lunging at Callaghan out of nowhere. My hand goes up to instinctively grab a hold of Fred's vest as his eyes narrowed at Set's cryptic words.

"I've been watching you for a while now," Set continued, his voice low while he directs his words to me. "And I told you I wouldn't give up now, did I?"

Fred audibly snorted at the Slytherin's words. "Look, just give it up, mate." Fred says, trying to keep the situation lighthearted despite the growing tension. "She's not interested."

Callaghan rolled his eyes at Fred's dismissal, his demeanor turning more aggressive. "Oh, please. What does she see in you anyway? You're nothing special." He looked Fred up and down, his tone dripping with disdain. "You deserve so much better than this oaf. Why waste your time on him when you could have someone like me, someone who can give you everything you need and more."

"What can you possibly offer me, you daft dimbo? All you've ever given me is grief!" I snapped back from behind Fred. I stepped slightly forward, positioning myself so that I could look him directly in the eye. The sight of his face brought back memories of all the grievances I held against him.

He scoffed at my words, his arrogance unshaken by my outburst. "Oh, here comes the fiery damsel in distress," he sneered. "Finally showing some backbone, eh?"

He was really pushing it now. Set's disgusting display of behavior nipped away at Fred's patience, which was growing thinner and thinner by the second. His insults weren't making anything better. Just kept added more fuel to the fire. That fire being Fred Weasley himself.

"I'd watch that mouth of yours if I were you, man." Fred warned, his voice losing that carefree tone he tried desperately to maintain this whole time. He quickly pushed me back behind him, creating a physical barrier between me and Set. The move was swift and protective, as if he could physically shield me from whatever Set intended. My back hit the bookshelf, the spines of several books digging into my rear. Fred's body was rigid, poised to prevent Set from getting any closer to me. Set noticed the gesture and a smirk played on his lips. "Trying to protect her, eh, Weasley?"

Concern and fear for Fred's safety began setting off alarms in my mind. Set moved closer, getting all up in Fred's face. "You gonna hit me, Fred? Play one of your little pranks? I'd like to see you try. You don't scare me. Not one bit."

Fred's jaw clenched momentarily before his stature visibly loosens up. Rolling his shoulders casually as he looked down at Callaghan, making him look more relaxed.

"Aw, bless him." Fred says with a scarily laid back smirk, turning behind him to look at me briefly.

"Fred, don't-" I warned, and with a swift, well-aimed punch, Fred's fist connected firmly with Set's face, cutting me off. The sound of flesh against bone resounding through the library.

Set stumbled back, taken completely off guard by Fred's unexpected retaliation.

"You bloody bastard!" Set yelled, cradling his jaw where the impact left a red mark. "You just assaulted me!" But Fred was unrepentant, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and amusement as he stood protectively in front of me.

"Ouch." Fred whispered, trying to ease the stinging pain from his fist by shaking it away. "Sturdy bone structure, mate, but you had it coming."

After the initial punch, the tension in the library escalated quickly as Set and Fred engaged in a heated fight. Books and shelves toppled over as they exchanged blows, their voices rising in anger. Students gathered around to watch the scene go down as I was tucked away in the corner, yelling desperately for them to stop. I attempting to get in between them before, only to be pushed back by Fred and told me to stay out of it.

The two men had continued to trade insults, their voices growing louder and their tempers flaring.

As the situation spiraled out of control, it didn't take long for the commotion to attract the attention of Madam Pince, the strict librarian who did not abide by such disturbances.

"You two!" She snapped, her voice cutting through the argument like a knife. "What in the world is going on here? The library is for reading, not brawling!"

Fred and Set begrudgingly turned their attention to Madam Pince, their angry gazes still simmering with hostility as they stayed with their hands still grabbing onto each other's uniforms.

By some miracle, she finally managed to break the two apart. With their clothes now in disorder, hairs sticking up in every direction, with blood, sweat, and bruises littering their faces, Madam Pince prepared to escort them out of the library to take them straight to Professor McGonagall.

Still scolding them for their behavior, Fred caught sight of me watching them leave. His expression softened for a moment, his anger dissipating as his gaze met mine. Before he walked out the door, he mouthed a quiet "Are you alright?"

I jogged closer to Fred, getting a good look at his face causing mumurs from the students around us to grow louder. "Weasley!" Madam Pince's voice rings from outside of the library door, noticing his absence. Fred briefly looked towards the exit before returning his gaze back to me. His complexion bruised and upper lip bloodied. My hands itched to reach out and touch him, but I ended up hesitating because I was too scared. Scared that I'd hurt him or make things even worse.

"You didn't have to." I whispered. My eyes danced around his face, completely distraught he'd gotten himself injured again and it was all my fault.

"You didn't have to go that far, Fred. Now you're hurt." I repeated. My tone quivering as my emotions began to well up inside of me.

"I wanted to," he replied, seemingly stuttering to say the next words. "Because-"

"Because?" I echoed quickly, remembering Madam Pince's urgency.

"Because..." Fred sighed, taking a moment to look away from me, biting his partially swollen bottom lip. "What are we?" He asked, returning his eyes back to me.

I looked away. I didn't feel the air Fred would usually carry around with him at this moment. He was the most serious I'd ever seen him.

"Mr. Weasley!" The librarian's voice rang out again, growing more agitated by the second.

The abruptness of Fred's question caught me off guard, and my heart plummeted to the pits of my stomach as the words left his mouth. I knew I had a limited window before Madam Pince comes back to take him away, and I had to answer hastily before the moment slipped through my fingers.

My mind and heart were battling against each other on who's to confess first- but the guilt inside me was far too overwhelming to be making any kind of decisions right now.

I looked at him again- his eyes lighting up when our gazes meet once more. My lips part, my heart pounding.

"We're... friends."

A mixture of emotions flickered across Fred's face as he took in my words. Blinking a few times to process if he'd heard me right. There was a hint of disappointment in his eyes, as if he had wanted to hear something different. But he quickly masked it with a smile, nodding in agreement.

"Friends," he repeated, the word sounding strangely bittersweet on his tongue.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Just friends, yeah?"

I couldn't reply any more after that. I kept silent, my bottom lip quivering as my knees were about to give way.

Madam Pince storms back in, taking Fred by his sleeve. "Come along now, Mr. Weasley. You and Mr. Callaghan caused enough trouble today as is." Our gazes linger just a few seconds more before he finally turns away, leaving me in a room full of onlookers whose whispers were quieter than my own heartbeat.

George, Ginny, and Hermione rushed to my side after they'd heard of a fight that broke out in the library, and both me and Fred happened to be a part of it.

I don't know what's going to happen to me and him after this. I don't even know if my heart could take any more.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Getting my friend punished over an issue that wasn't his to shoulder in the first place was not on my bucket list for this school year.

Three and a half weeks passed since Fred and Callaghan's fight in the library.

Three and a half weeks since I last saw Fred around the school.

He got suspended and served his time back at The Burrow. Callaghan was sent away for a longer period for starting the whole dispute.

George, whose thankfully not angry with me and told me it was all completely normal for them as troublemaking twins to get into things like that, told me all about Fred's situation after he'd been sent home. It was mostly about the extra rounds of scoldings he got from Molly.

Hermione and Ginny have also been reassuring me ever since that day, telling me it was completely out of my hands and that Callaghan really did have it coming for him sooner or later. But was it really out of my control, though? Surely there was something I could've done differently so Fred didn't have become someone's punching bag.

The guilt ate away at me like a damn parasite, starting from the inside, out.

I've lost my appetite, my sleep schedule's fucked, and all that strain began showing physically, too. My dark circles became more and more visible each day. Couldn't even focus on my classes and almost burnt off Roger Davies' eyebrows off during Potions.

Hermione decided enough was enough, and that my current condition wasn't ideal to be participating in any kind of school activities, so she dragged me to Professor McGonaggal's office to opt me out of classes and extracurriculars for the time being.

Even though it's been three days since Fred's supposed return from his suspension, I haven't seen him around at all. Not in the corridors, not in the Great Hall, and not even in the classrooms where we were supposed to have schedules together. And to be frank, life's been a little too quiet without him around.

His constantly loud and contagious laughter that echoed throughout any room he was in, the jokes and pranks he and George would do to pass the time, and the small, intimate moments him and I shared. I missed it all. I missed him. But remembering how our last conversation went, I doubt it would be the same ever again.

Seeing as I've been cooped up in my room the majority of my scholastic leave, I decided to finally venture out. The day had finally come to a close and the cool early evening breeze from the oncoming autumn was rolling into the castle grounds.

I got up from my bed and threw on a jumper that Mrs. Weasley had gifted me on my last Christmas with her family. It was very comfortable and I could tell she put a lot of love and thought into picking out the design and colors for me.

After brushing my hair and giving myself a final once over by the full length mirror, I was somehow satisfied with the way I looked, though my complexion has seen better days.

I didn't really know where I wanted to go, but I just had to get out of my room. It was beginning to feel like a mini Azkaban in there after so long.

The moment I left my common room, the chilly air immediately hits my cheeks. I shivered and crossed my arms over my chest, burying my hands under my arms to try and keep them warm.

I walked the nearly empty halls of Hogwarts. The torches mounted against the walls provided a warm contrast to the blue hues painting both the sky and castle.

My feet grew heavier the more I wandered. The hollow feeling coming back inside my chest as memories of me and Fred walking down these very halls together came flooding back. The sight of us laughing side by side- practically stumbling in our steps as we trudged onto our next classes, remembering the way he looked at me, the way he touched me so gently..

All those reminders made me feel sick to my stomach. Not in disgust, but rather of a love I still had for him... and I didn't know what to do with it. It was a love I was certain, had nowhere to go.

I sighed, closing my eyes and shook my head as if to restart my own thoughts. All that reminiscing completely distracting me from the directions I was heading in.

One minute I was aimlessly walking, and before I knew it, I was in front of the library's entrance.

I felt a bit apprehensive about returning to the place it all went down, but it was only a couple of hours before curfew, so why not.

Upon entering, the usual cozy vibe I'd get from visiting this place was gone. I observed a few students and professors that were still present, just going about their business as I passed by the multiple shelves and aisles. I caught a few couples snogging, but that was nothing out of the ordinary when it came to sundown at Hogwarts.

My feet ended up taking me to the same aisle the fight happened in. My breathing deepens as I stepped in, my eyes looking around until they eventually landed on one of the tables. Specifically the one me and Fred sat in.

The signs of their intense altercation were evident on the surface of the once-polished wood. Several shallow scratches and fragments of chipped edges marred the table's finish. A streak of dried up blood patiently waits for me to notice it just a few centimeters to the right. They probably missed a spot when they cleaned the place up.

I bit my lip as I looked at the dried and dark liquid. It didn't matter anymore whether it was Fred's or Callaghan's. Things shouldn't have ended the way it did.

I pulled a chair out and sat down, resting my arms on the table's cold surface while I ran my fingers over the blood with melancholy painted on my face.

"Merlin, Fred." I whispered, burying my face into my arms. "I'm so fucking sorry."

I stayed that way for god knows how long. I'm pretty sure I nearly fell asleep while listening to the sounds of the library around me. It nearly had me forgetting the concept of time.

"I somehow knew you'd be here." A voice suddenly cuts through the silence.

I froze, processing whether I was hallucinating or just plain mad at this point. I wanted to believe that I was imagining it, that I was hearing things. But deep down, a part of me knew it was him.

Slowly, cautiously, I lifted my head from my arms to look at the direction where the voice came from.

And there he was, actually standing before me, and not just as a figment of my imagination. His familiar figure was silhouetted by the soft moonlight streaming through the windows. His hands were shoved into his pockets as if he was trying to appear casual, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

A moment of silence passes between us as we looked at each other. Fred opens his mouth to speak again.

"Wow, you look terrible." He comments, attempting to lighten the uneasy atmosphere with a joke. A small smile reached his lips, but not as genuine as the ones he'd flash me before. It looked a bit.. robotic?

I broke our gaze briefly, scanning the area around us before returning back to him. "...Thanks."

The silence grew longer between us, and the tension in the air thickened. Fred's casual, easygoing demeanor had dropped, replaced by an almost awkward stiffness. He stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to find the right words to say.

"Mind if I, uh..?" he finally managed to utter, his voice sounding a little strained as he gestured to the seat beside me.

I gave him a small shrug. "Yeah. It's not my seat."

Fred nodded silently in acknowledgement before sliding in next to me, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor seemed to echo in the otherwise quiet library. He sat down, his body close but not quite touching mine. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt, his fingers picking at the fabric as his eyes kept darting towards me, trying to gauge my expression but I kept my gaze fixed on the table.

The silence between us both was deafening. The air thick with unspoken words and tension.

The situation in itself was absolutely painful.

There he was, finally sitting beside me and within reach. The time we spent apart was absolute torture and I wanted nothing more but to embrace him and feel his warmth wrapped around me again. But I knew I couldn't just casually reach out and do that anymore.

"Y/n.." He muttered, pausing as if to wait for me to look at him. The silence that hung in the air telling me to do something.

I took a moment to compose myself before turning my head to look at him. Our eyes locked, making my breath hitch slightly under my chest from how intensely he was holding our gaze. And being this close finally gave me a better look at him.

Despite his joke upon first seeing my face, he didn't look like he was doing too well, either. Circles that were equally, if not darker than mine, a few gashes that have healed over, his upper lip now had a small scar, and his knuckles were also littered with wounds that have long recovered.

"I know what you're gonna say." I interjected. "I understand if you don't want to be friends anymore. In fact- I actually deserve it." I began to ramble. I don't know if I'd be able to stop myself now.

"Y/n, wait-" Fred attempted to interrupt, but I was too adamant on getting my point through to him.

"I was absolutely selfish. I felt like I asked too much from you without even knowing it, and I feel like I could've done so many things differently so everything didn't have to end the way it did. I mean, you shouldn't have offered to do this for me anyways. I shouldn't have allowed or agreed to it in the first place. I could've handled Callaghan by myself. I just didn't understand why you went so far for a friend you pitied." I said, adjusting my seat so my body was now tilted and facing him. He looked at me with an expression so utterly unreadable. "So after the fight, I didn't know what to do, or what to think, like, I was in total shock from what happened. I was so worried about you, and when you asked that question I just answered without really thinking. When I found out you got suspended, I was absolutely miserable."

My disposition was completely in shambles at this point. It was now or never. Words just came spilling out of my mouth like vomit as Fred continued to stay silent, allowing me to get everything out. "While you were gone, I found my thoughts constantly coming back to you. I kept remembering everything we'd done together and I was so scared I'd lost you, Fred." I continued, anxiously fidgeting with my fingers. "Then I began missing you... your absence absolutely tore at me. I yearned for your company so much that even if we really wouldn't be friends anymore, just seeing you around school would've been enough."

"Y/n..." He whispered.

"What I'm trying to say is... during our time together when Callaghan was still around, seeing the way you protected me, the feeling I got when you touched me with so much care, and kissed me in a way that was so innocent yet held purpose.. it all made me grow odd feelings for you. Feelings I thought long and hard about, it even confused me." I said, just about ready to have the floor swallow me whole. "I only said I saw us as friends because I was scared, and confused. But now, I'm fully ready to accept whatever comes out of this. Promise."

By the time I finished talking, I was out of breath. Fred didn't respond immediately. His eyes studied my face, visibly softer now as he searched for any sign of me being uncertain. But all he saw was vulnerability.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and hoarse with suppressed emotion. "Do you have any idea..." he trailed, leaning in closer to me. Not enough to touch, but he was close enough for me to see just how serious he was. "How many nights I've stayed up after what you said, really wondering if being "friends" was all we really were? The amount of times your name, and your laugh echoes inside my head when I try to sleep?"

My heartbeat began to quicken. My lips felt uncomfortably dry as they parted to take in air. The anxiety of it all made it hard to breathe.

What was he trying to say?

"I didn't help you because I pitied you. I mean, we are friends, but my intentions ran a bit deeper than that, I'm afraid." He said. "I felt I needed to prove myself to you. I saw the way you took care of yourself, but I didn't want you to just see me as Fred Weasley, the student who played pranks and always got into trouble. I hoped you'd see me as someone who'd also protect you, you know. I was even more of an idiot thinking you'd see me as a choice."

Hearing the words leave his lips felt unreal. Almost like I'd just imagined the whole thing and was now waiting for a wake up call.

The boy I had known for years with a reputation for being mischievous and carefree, and someone who never really seemed to take anything seriously was now sat before me. So raw and vulnerable, it was nearly petrifying.

"I love you, y/n. All of you. You drive me bloody mad."

Call it relief or immense joy, but it was in this moment where it all turned into a blur. My body acted completely on its own, reaching out to wrap my arms around his neck- crashing my body against Fred's on his seat sending both of us toppling over and falling backwards. The impact of us and the chair hitting the floor reverberated throughout the deafeningly silent library, which was now nearing its closing for the night.

Fred groaned, his hands placed loosely on my waist. The wind was knocked out of his lungs when he hit the hard floor. "Merlin, woman, are you trying to murder me a second time? There are better places to hug me than on the library floor, you know."

"I'd rather try and murder you over anyone else." I murmured into his shoulder, unable to clearly express the overwhelming relief I felt because I hadn't lost him.

I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, fearing that if I loosened my grip even just a little, he'd slip away from me again.

Fred noticing the way my embrace had this air of anxiousness to it, he returned his own way of reassurance by slowly holding me just as tightly, getting both of us off of the floor and sitting up.

I was nestled in between his legs, still clutching onto him while he sat back- supporting his weight with one arm behind him, and the other wrapped tightly around my mid section.

Fred eventually pulled away to look at me, but I was too embarrassed to do the same. I kept my face turned away to avoid his intense gaze.

"Let me look at you." He mumbled, voice soft as he brushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear. My skin flushes under his fingertips.

"I can't." I replied, the corners of my mouth twitching.

"And why's that?"

"Because I'm afraid that if I did, I wouldn't be able to control myself and kiss you."

Fred chuckled, his hand moved upwards to gently pinch my cheeks together, creating a slightly distorted expression on my face. However, instead of turning me to face him directly, he adjusted his position and bent his head to the side, adjusting to meet my gaze instead. The distance between our mouths was mere inches, and I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin.

"I knew you couldn't resist me." He says, his voice low.

"Shut up." I attempted to mutter through lips resembling that of a fish's.

His small grin stayed fixed on his face as his gaze flickered back and forth between my eyes. It was as if he was trying to decipher something hidden deep within me, searching for a glimpse of my innermost thoughts and secrets. Each time his gaze shifted from one eye to the other, I felt as if he was peering straight into my soul, unveiling layers only he, and he alone gets to see.

With my face still cupped in his hand, he pulled me closer, closing the distance between us. This kiss, so long overdue, was different from the ones before it. There was no pretense, no facade to maintain. It was just the two of us, caught in a moment of raw vulnerability and unspoken need.

Both of us let out a soft, satisfied sigh. He let go of my cheeks, his fingers traced along my jawline until his hand settled beneath my ear. His touch was gentle. A stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor, and it left me wanting more each time.

His lips moved against my own in a gentle but insistent rhythm. His kiss was tender, a certain feeling of longing hiding just underneath. His hand then moved from my jaw to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in the soft hairs there as he pulled me a little closer, his other arm wrapping around my waist with a firm grip.

I reciprocated the gesture, reaching up to weave my fingers through the hair at the back of his head, holding him in place. In that moment, we were intertwined physically and emotionally, both of us reluctant to let go.

As we finally pulled away for air, Fred let out a soft chuckle. He was slightly breathless, his chest heaving slightly from the intensity of the kiss. The distance created in between us just enough for him to look at me as the corners of his lips curved into a playful smirk.

"You know," he said, giving my hair a playful tug. "If this is how you respond after almost murdering me, I might have to invest in some padding for my back."

I snorted, a smirk crossing my lips as I pulled his hair back in return. "You're a madman, Fred Weasley."

"And I'm the richest bloody man alive right now, too." I responded with a soft smile, untangling my fingers from his hair to rest them lightly on his shoulders. He unwound his own fingers from the tousled hairs at the nape of my neck, allowing them to laze gently on my hips.

"Hey, you know what'd make this whole school thing even more bearable?" He paused, his words carrying the familiar lilt he was known for.

"Less schoolwork?" I replied.

"If you agreed to be my girlfriend."

"What?"

"You're starting to sound like me, hah!"

"Fred-"

"What do you say? wanna be stuck with me for the rest of the year and all the years after that?"

"Honestly, I thought you'd never ask." I replied, laughing at his whole proposal.

Unable to control his own overflowing happiness, he kissed me again. "You're telling me I could've had special snogging priviledges with you if we'd just talked about this before?"

And then he kissed me again,

And again

And again.

"So what now?" I asked, breathing heavily from the limited breaks in between our lip-to-lip encounters.

"Now," Fred murmured, a roguish glint in his eyes. His lips slightly swollen from the kisses we shared. "I can think of a few things I'd like to do with my brand-new, quite willing prisoner."

His arms wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling my body closer to him. His lips were millimeters from my ear as he spoke in a hushed tone.

"Starting with more of these special snogging sessions."

With those words, Fred pulled me back into another kiss, this one deeper and more urgent than the ones before. His arms wrapped around me again, holding me tightly against his body as he kissed me thoroughly, pouring all his longing and desire into it. It was as if we tried to fit all those years we missed out on having each other into one whole moment.

And by not really paying much attention to the time, both of us ended up getting scolded by Madam Pince once again for still being in the library during its closing. But we didn't care. For once, the rules didn't matter to me anymore, and definitely not to Fred.

The future that lied ahead of us was uncertain, but we're sure as hell happy knowing we'd be facing it together from now on.

 

Fin.

[setcolder]

Reading the comments back and forths ITS SO INTERESTING and yes i agree with all of you.

An advance note: sorry that i barged in with discussion focused more on other ship than whats the original post is intending but i need to reblog it here since i got this revelation by reading the comments interpretation

Imyself come to a realization that shinran would actually be a MUCH MORE better ship if its canonically admitted their relationship are toxic

The way they've been portrayed as the perfect couple undermined the amount of lies they had between them. they're already an angsty couple to begin with, and its written very clear that that angst is build on how they're "distant" (bc ran things shinichi is away, while hes actually right beside her)

They clearly ignore how unhealthy the relationship was. If gosho had the balls and guts, how shinran would be written is full of bickering. Not just cute banters, but one that actually turned their relationship upside down.

When ran scold shinichi hes always away, it shouldnt have stopped there. She have to literally begs and blamed him. She HAVE to confront him. And this arise and/or stem from the fact that she got dysfunctional family.

Admitting that her dysfunctional family had an impact to her having abandonment issue and bravely wrote how toxic shinran relationship is, again, would actually made their ship BETTER.

This is only from ran's side. Shinichi side also bring a lot to the table by clearly writing how he views her as a world to come back to—an ambition he first had impulsively, full of anger and resentment when his life got flipped. And i quote the opinions on op's comments how conan grew his personality so much, so as extension, shinichi HAVE to be a different person. And this difference should've put their relationship MORE in danger

It's far more delicious if they have a big fight and does break up. I'm not even saying it out of malice. I'm a multishipper now, and i grew up with shinran. I literally spend big time enjoying dcmk since i was a child for shinran romance. But, really, if gosho stated clearly how toxic their relationship is and led them to a broke up, I'd ship them even harder LMAO it'd be a good plate like those out there of unhealthy relationships thats so fucked up but so interesting you cant help but be drawn into them.

The thing is, this is all just my input. And i notice very much the weakness in shinran writing is so stagnant that it becoming very flat. The way i made this paragraphs about what they could potentially be is a solid proof how flawed their writing is.

And i myself is pretty sure gosho wont take very drastic decisions like changing course of romance to coai. Its been 30 years and he doesnt have any revolutionary shift in this particular are of writing. Maybe if its another 50 years, it could change but i dont see it either. I feel like its been too long and too late for him to have some sort of meaningful choices put into canon. He shouldve done SOMETHING when its still hot. At least 10-15 years ago. Its just.... TOO late yk 😭 i dont really believe in him being that bold about it

Especially how, yeah, hes very flawed in writing female characters. The fact that coai managed to develop very naturally is to me an accident in a way like famous saying how "shonen writers accidentally create a phenomenal homoerotic relationship", do you get me?

All in all, despite the route gosho will take, coai baseline is already too strong to crumble. I never paid attention to coai before (not that i hate it, i simply never gave it too much thought) so i got surprised at how many dcmk staff supports them. I'm interested at one of the reply on op's comment stated that somebody should proofread gosho's romance. If a lot of staff likes coai and gosho is now beginning to realize their significance, what could be the IT factor that made gosho locked in?

I wonder if its affected by the fandom situation thats extended to real life harassment. If thats one of the reason, is it harder to change route since they need to, like, plan it systematically? Like dismantling the toxicness of extreme shinran fans by pulling legal actions?

Hope no shinran comes at me cause i myself still likes them (idk if theres dcmk shipwar in tumblr 😭), i just can see objectively that the criticism this ship receives are valid. I still fangirls to their dating in kyoto arc btw. I spend most of my life around dcmk when i was younger, so now that i matured i can see things i havent realized before (my tastes also changes by time, just like shinichi shouldve change when he lives his life as conan LOL)

Tl;dr i still have affection for shinran as they are my ship growing up, but now i enjoy coai very much and see how meaningful their relationship is. I wrote ahead on my twitter as i dive into coai posts:

I just got back to my fixation of dcmk, and i used to have similar scope of nostalgia everytime i came back in the past (mostly for the canon romance and my favorite mystery chapters i liked when i was young). So now that i see the potential of a lot of other character dynamics & relationship, it really feels like i consume this media for the first time. I feel like im being rebirthed HAHA

new ending dropped and i just about lost my mind

[aimeeart3]

Natsume week day 6 : role reversal

I decided to swap Matoba and Natori for this one, long rambles below a read more this time, so feel free to skip it ^^

I wonder what they would have been like if they'd had eachothers lives. It's hard to say because we don't know much about Matoba's upbringing, but we can see how Natori's influenced him.

I think Matoba could find happiness in Natori's life. He cares less about what others think of him and would be very proud of himself for being self taught and becoming famous despite his families disapproval. I think he could handle the lizard uncertainty too because we've seen him be able to handle the eye curse. He'd also be happy to have yokai make contracts with him because they want to/because they like him rather than through fear or force.

Natori on the other hand, seems more worried about whether he's a good or bad person, he's softer in many ways, so I think he'd struggle in Matoba's position.

I think the pressure, manipulative tactics and having yokai and people distrusting him would affect Natori's confidence more than it does Matoba's. The Shinobu situation would be tough for him too.

Though that being said, many of Natori's self esteem issues come from how his family treated him, without knowing what Matoba's home life has been like it's hard to know how growing up in eachothers families would affect their natures.

It's possible Matoba's confidence is natural to him and he hasn't let bad experiences affect him as much, but it's also possible he had a supportive upbringing which contributed to his confidence while Natori's family made him feel awful about himself.

If Matoba had a good upbringing then swapping them could change them both considerably.

Nanase's influence is also an interesting thing to consider, we don't know how much she's influenced Matoba. I suspect some of his views on yokai come from her, he seemed to have a softer view of them when he was younger but now he sounds more like her when he talks about them.

I suspect their dynamic with eachother wouldn't change much, I think they'd both still clash and annoy eachother in a similar way to their original meeting.

It was so interesting thinking about them swapped, sorry for such long ramblings, I'd love to read anyone else's thoughts on this too ^^

[mikakuna]

babygirl jason anon here again!💖

I also completely agree that jason's type is older people. (Sladejay and Constantine x Jason are my fav ships, jason absolutely endears himself to older men who hate everyone else and treat him like a princess that could kill them, very fiona from shrek vibes if you catch me).

But ppl talk about jason looking like bruce alot, but i think one day he's staring at himself in the mirror and realizes its willis staring back at him, and that warms his heart so he grows his hair out, just to the base of his neck so he can embrace his curls. He gets piercings he always wanted, 2 in each lobe, an industrial maybe. And i think distancing himself from the bats a bit gives him back a healthy glow in his eyes, because he's not fighting to prove his worth to people who keep moving the goal post.

And maybe the bats see him again, with roy and kori at some big world ending fiasco, helmet off, laughing and smiling and looking happy and they realize that they have not seen him happy in a long time.

I'm obsessed with the idea of the JLA and another heroes meeting jason after having only heard news of his actions or the bats biased perception of things. but meeting jason completely changes things because he's magnetic, just so charming and intelligent and unfairly fucking gorgeous. Especially when they get him started on things he loves. Gotham, books, cooking, kids.

Roy has his hand around Jason's waist, looking at him fondly. Kori fondly runs a hand through his curls. Jason being loved and accepted for just being who he is without having to shape and distort himself of his morals.

I have many thoughts about jason and the wider hero community, of him finally pushing off the isolation that Batman forced on him both as Robin and now as Red Hood by controlling the narrative around him.

But when i get more babygirl jason thoughts i will send then your way!!

HIIIIIII i love you so much♥️ im sorry for getting to this late but i hope my reply, long reply, makes up for it!!

jason is SOOO fiona from shrek coded omg wait he deserves that kind of princess treatment. he's not afraid to be himself and if that means being flawed or being disapproved by society (other heroes + bats) then fuck it. he's still gonna be himself and not let other people, especially those who have let him down, change him. very fiona of him to get with people everyone else would disapprove of.

ofc i love sladejay but i've never actually read any constantine x jason content!! this is probably my first time hearing about it in a romantic context and not platonic. I WANNA HEAR MOREEE

yes yes yes to jason specifically going after older men. it's not even that he's doing it consciously. they just always happen to be older than him and they're usually the ones seeking him out. he has that mistreated puppy look that attracts older dudes and makes them wanna spoil him with love and that gruff affection. very healing for his daddy issues to be treated with unconditional love for once by an older man who could very well be his dad. it's a dangerous game to play considering his age and theirs but it always works out (to the absolute appall of bruce)

your description of his new, healthy look is everything. i also love the hc that he looks like willis since i don't really fw the one that he looks like bruce specifically. anyways he should look like his papa who thought of him as his prince of gotham :( jason with longer hair and piercings is so pretty he deserves it. if that red hood webcomic wasn't so ass i would've liked his character design

i too am a firm believer that jason becomes ten times more beautiful when he's happy and not constantly emotionally drained from his interactions with the bats who only ever expect the worst from him. the glow!!! the sound of his unrestrained laughter!!! the twinkle in his eyes!!!!!!! you truly never look better than when there isn't an ugly bitch constantly thinking the worst of you

OMG dude i was just thinking about that justice league hc <3 most heroes knew jason as robin and still fell for bruce/the bats' propaganda 🥀 but hey at least it makes for great content of them meeting red hood jason for the first time and becoming instantly enamoured. i need it shoved in every hero's face that jason is smart as hell and not the stone cold killer he's rumoured to be.

and yes you're so right about jason having been isolated. he deserves to break free from that isolation since it very clearly still exists in his red hood days.

can't lie because i enjoyed his teamup with kori and roy but i love art and biz sooo much more because they're just for jason rather than having been dick's people first. need the bats seeing how happy he is with other people </3

thank you for this anon i loved hearing your thoughts!! (sorry this got long) and YES PLEASEE i will always want to hear more baby girl jason thoughts ♥️

[florencebirdsong]

Continuing Sentry

Valentina de Fontaine x Reader

Summary: Trying to recreate the Sentry Project is too dangerous with the spotlight on Valentina. An alternate method is needed. Needles can’t pierce your skin so a less clinical option is the only way to go.

Or, Valentina fucks a baby into you.

Tags: sentry reader, breeding kink, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, strap-on, thoughts of worship, references to oral, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, non-con due to stockholm syndrome, no pronouns used for reader

Words: 1,911

Author's note: Valentina is in full manipulation mode here so there’s times where she’s softer than she would be anywhere else to get you to comply <3

I’ve changed my mind about whether Valentina would actually strap or not since I started this but I think this is a special exception she’d make

ao3 | masterlist

The door opens and you look up eagerly from your book, one of the few types of entertainment allowed to you. Valentina has graced you with a visit outside of the usual schedule. The fact that she doesn’t tell you to suit up immediately makes you even more excited. This isn’t about an emergency mission. She’s here to see you.

She’s carrying a box tied shut with a pretty ribbon. Excitement fills you. Valentina brings you presents fairly often with how well you do on missions. You already got a reward for your last one, the privilege to touch her, so you aren’t sure what this could be for. Is it your birthday? She said she knew everything about you and you haven’t been able to keep track of the date. She perches on the end of the bed and places the box in her lap.

“Do you remember our conversation about continuing the Sentry project?”

“Yeah. You said it was too dangerous to make another me. Everyone else died.” You aren’t meant to preen at the idea that you survived, that you were superior even before the experiment worked on you, but you do. Just a little. It’s what brought you to Valentina after all.

“Correct, which is why we’ve decided to try and make someone like you.”

You frown. You aren’t sure you like the idea. Won’t another person take Valentina’s attention away from you?

“But all the work has been destroyed,” you say.

“We aren’t continuing the experiment. At least, not in that way. The experiments were too unpredictable and pricey considering the few results. I believe it would be much safer for you to pass on your genes instead.”

“Like take my blood?” You’re not sure how they would do it since your skin is impenetrable but Valentina will find a way.

“No. Something a bit more literal.”

Your eyes widen. “You want to take my eggs?” The little you knew of the process sounded more than a little scary.

“No. If the foetus has your powers from the start instead of developing them after its birth it could prove quite dangerous.”

“Then how would you get my genes?”

“Through more traditional means.”

Traditional. You roll the word around as you try to understand her meaning. It’s been a long time since tradition has had any meaning to you. Now there’s only the ones Valentina makes. Then it clicks.

“Pregnancy,” you say dully.

“I know it’s a big ask but this would do so much good for humanity and…you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m not alone,” you say earnestly. “I have you.”

She smiles and gently cups your cheek. “You do. Always. And I’ll always accept you but I can’t relate to how you experience the world. How your powers affect you. I can only empathise.”

You chew your bottom lip. It would be nice to have someone truly understand how it feels, instead of only understanding from your words. You can never quite explain it. How it feels to be invulnerable, the buzzing under your skin, the thing that lurks within you.

“How would it happen?” you ask cautiously. The idea of a stranger touching you makes your skin crawl but you don’t really like the idea of a needle either.

“A few suggestions were thrown around but I thought you might prefer something less sterile.” She undoes the bow of the box in her lap.

You sit up eagerly. You don’t know what to guess like you usually try to but a present from her has never let you down before. She knows every detail of your life. Past, present and future. She knows exactly what to get you every time. 

She lifts the lid to reveal a strap-on. Your mouth dries.

“This was made specifically to be able to do the job without the usual limitations,” she says.

You don’t know what the usual limitations are and you don’t really care. “You mean you’re going to…?”

“Yes. I’m going to fuck you with it.”

You swallow harshly. Valentina has rewarded you with serving her plenty of times but you’ve never been allowed anything like this. You aren’t even allowed to touch her with anything but your tongue. Which is a precaution for her safety. You’re still new enough to your strength that you could hurt her in your excitement. The worry doesn’t stop you yearning for it.

“How does it— how would we— I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re so sweet,” she says in a condescending tone you don’t pick up on. “You’ll still need to keep your hands to yourself but I believe you’ve gained enough control to lay in the traditional position.”

You glow at the compliment. You’ve worked so hard on your control. It’s the main part of your training but that isn’t why you care so much about it. You want to be able to touch Valentina, even just to graze her skin. You ache for it.

“Are we— right now?” Your eyes flick between her and the strap-on.

“Yes. The cameras are already off. Undress and lay on the bed.”

You jump to do the commands eagerly. You’re still careful while taking off your clothes. You don’t want to risk tearing them and being forced into whatever position isn’t the traditional one but would be safer.

You hesitate at your underwear. It’s been a long time since anyone has seen you in this kind of situation. It’s nerve-wracking, especially with Valentina being the first one to see you naked outside of scientists.

Looking up is a mistake. Valentina is strapping the harness on. Her movements are confident and she has it on in moments. Her smooth skin is bared below the waist and you drink the sight in eagerly. She doesn’t take her shirt off. She never takes her shirt off and it frustrates you endlessly. You’re already so good you don’t know what you have to do to convince her. Maybe it’s to discourage you from touching or maybe you haven’t earned the privilege. At least the shirt today looks like a softer material and there’s no buttons to scrape against your skin.

“Well?”

Your eyes snap up. She’s finished as you got lost in your thoughts. Something that happens frequently and she’s usually patient with. You scramble to take off your underwear. Any embarrassment hid with the distraction of her skin and it flees completely at the sight of the strap-on standing proudly between her legs. Your eyes drop back down to it and you swallow roughly as you lay down properly. 

It feels like it takes Valentina forever to walk to the bed. Her strap bobs with every step. She climbs in between your legs and you struggle note to squirm. You have to be good. This can’t end so early. 

Two fingers glide between your soaked folds and she holds them up. Your wetness glistens in the light. She parts them and it stretches.

“I don’t think/We won’t need the lube,” she says. You’re not embarrassed. Valentina knows the effect she has on you.

Her hand moves to her strap and she guides it towards your entrance. You’ve been in here for so long without so much as a toy that you feel the stretch the moment the head enters you. It’s not bad, she hasn’t chosen a big toy, 

“Relax,” Valentina murmurs. “I have you.”

You stare up at her as you take a deep breath. Her eyes are so kind, her face soft. You slowly force your body to relax. She always takes such good care of you. 

She keeps filling you. You can’t believe Valentina is touching you. That this is happening. She’s finally claiming the deepest part of you. The idea is enough to almost send you over the edge already.

“There we go,” Valentina says as she bottoms out. Her pupils are blown. Her perfume fills your nose and her strap fills your cunt and the way she hovers over you makes you feel like you’re surrounded by her.  

She stays like that and you bask in her long enough to get needy. You try not to squirm but it’s a losing battle with her so close. Instead of filling the ache the strap has only worsened it. She’s so kind to give you time to adjust but really you’d be okay with her fucking you the second she got her hands on you. You’ve been dreaming about it for months. Now that your control is finally good enough the waiting is torture.

She clicks her tongue and holds your hips down. You still immediately. Valentina’s strength is nothing compared to yours, no one’s is, but you obey her every command like it’s breathing. Disobeying hasn’t been a thought in your head for a very long time. You also don’t want to risk hurting her. You’re pretty sure the world would end if you did.

Valentina finally, finally moves. You moan as she drags the strap out of you. Her following thrust is short and sharp. Your hands move to grab her but abort at the last second and cling to the headboard.

“Good girl,” she husks. You shudder.

She keeps fucking you and it’s so hard to be good. The plant pot on the table begins to rattle. You force your magic back down. You are in charge and you won’t allow it to ruin this for you. The headboard breaks beneath your fingers but still you don’t move. You force the power wanting to fly things around the move down. You can’t move, you can’t let your powers loose. You have to be good. She might stop if you aren’t and the need to come consumes you. 

Valentina’s long nails dig in, sharp enough to cut if your skin was capable of splitting. For the first time you hate your indestructible power. You want her to mark you with more than just your clothes. You want her to sink her teeth into you and tear. You want everyone to see how much she owns you; how deeply embedded she is [in your skin]. 

Valentina makes a low noise and the headboard becomes splinters between your fingers. You so rarely hear anything when you service her until the end and even then it’s little more than a raspy praise. Your stomach flexes but you keep your hips firmly against the bed. You want her to make that noise again. You want to be the reason she makes it but your control is so close to snapping you might break her.

Instead you memorise every hitch of her breath, the tight press of her lips when she’s swallowing a noise, the feel of her reaching the deepest part of you.

You can’t help coming even as you desperate try to prolong this moment. You cry out as your body floods with pleasure. Something warm fills you and you arch as your body responds. It feels so good. Too good. The room shakes. Things topple off of the table.

Panting, you look up at her with star-filled eyes. Her hair is messy and there’s a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. You wish you could kiss her.

Valentina looks around the room. A few things have fallen off of the table but otherwise nothing is broken and everything is in its place.

“You did well,” she praises.

 Warmth fills you. You wish you could stay like this forever.

[mymarifae]

i am so intrigued by this idea that the data fluctuations triggered each time amphoreus resets can affect and influence real people, too. and that's the entire reason why screwllum had to give stelle the chronocognitive anchor. without it, she would risk losing herself and become further embedded in amphoreus's code

it really changes the game here. because now we have to seriously ask ourselves, is everyone on amphoreus honestly just a simulation? a mere bundle of code? cyrene's dialogue in the remembrance space certainly suggests otherwise

(it also appears to suggest that outsiders are actively LURED into amphoreus. which begs another question: by what?)

now i seriously doubt that lygus would miss even one outsider wandering into amphoreus, but it's interesting to go through his data logs and see just how many variables he straight up loses. he has no clue where march 7th or dan heng are, but even more interestingly he has no idea where cyrene is. as far as we know, she's a genuine product of the simulation and he can't keep track of her? well damn i'm starting to think he has much less control over this thing than he wants us to believe

how many times has someone been (again i cannot put enough emphasis onto this particular word choice) lured into amphoreus, and while lygus jots down a note of their entry, another reset or two or three or Forty inevitably rolls around and he just... loses them. the data fluctuations hit, they're changed, they're buried deeper into the mess of amphoreus, and soon enough it seems like they just belong there. a naturally-occurring new product of the simulation as the scepter continues to learn and grow and adjust. after a certain point, how would you be able to tell the difference, truly?

or if you COULD, would it even be worth documenting a million cycles later...? they may as well be just another bundle of code, after all. they can't leave - they're too deeply ensnared now. and the chances of the average person being able to regain their consciousness and find who they used to be, dismantling the truth of amphoreus enough to start truly breaking shit, amidst the MILLIONSSSSS of constant resets... quite slim, honestly!

(because remember that pathstriders are not anything particularly special. in this universe, it's a very average thing to be. like really it just means you are a person with strong convictions and maybe a little fantasy powers now)

i'm just not fully buying into the idea we'll bid goodbye to all the chrysos heirs once the amphoreus simulation (probably) shuts down and that'll be that. the majority of them are certainly simulations, but there has to be a little something more going on here. unless the writers have immediately forgotten what cyrene said, or she was making shit up (???), or she was literally only referring to dan heng and stelle (unlikely, because they intruded on amphoreus in an entirely different manner than march did)

but even if this line of thought ends up not going anywhere we'll still get to see exactly what happens if you're in amphoreus during a reset and you don't have a chronocognitive anchor handy. with dan heng and march. and that will be fun (i'm scared)

[kyouka-supremacy]

do you think atsushi could ever be possessive toward akutagawa or feel jealousy? (not jealous of his strength bc that’s a little canon isn’t it? but just jealous when akutagawa’s interacting with others??)

i think jealousy mainly stem from insecurity or lack of trust in your partner, so if we’re talking about post-“away with you, you fool”, i think atsushi really doesn’t have any “grounds” to be possessive / jealous. he understands how strongly akutagawa feels for him and if he reflects on their partnership…he’s also get that akutagawa’s the one who “opened up” first, and (kinda) unconditionally. obviously atsushi’s self worth is abysmal, but weirdly enough…i think he’d kinda feel secure in akutagawa’s affections for him????

akutagawa is the jealous type. in a romantic setting i can kinda see him uplift atsushi in his head whilst hating himself, and that making him feel unloveable comparatively or just in general and insecure hence leading to jealousy. or the uplifting might just mean he’s resigned to losing atsushi, atsushi’s too good for him after all, this is the best he can get (hence being so insecure that he’s not being jealous —> he was not jealous when kyouka finding the light and living happily, even if he believed she was exactly like him, with a propensity for darkness and ability suited only for killing. yet he continues being the mafia’s dog and doesn’t seek that for himself, maybe out of resigning himself?)

idk if he’d act on it, but i can see those feelings existing. basically how they kinda exist already in canon with the whole dazai-akutagawa-atsushi thing, but even w the dazai case, it’s not to monopolise his attention exactly but moreso to fight for his reason to live, he wants the pain he endured to mean something, if no matter how hard he tries and no matter what he does, he simply loses due to his inherent nature (thus atsushi is the better protege even if he’s crap, atsushi never had to “earn” his blessings) that just proves that he shouldn’t have tried surviving in the first place, that’s pretty awful for someone who believes they can change and the past not having a bearing on who he is now- since it means he’ll never be worthy of approval. so i can’t see it as purely “he’s acting jealous just out of affection for dazai and desire for love” and i can’t precisely compare it to akutagawa in a romantic scenario.

sorry for yapping, please feel free to disagree w what i said, bc its something I’m confused on and idk how to analyse them like that. but the main question i have is does atsushi have the capacity for jealousy/possessiveness if akutagawa is his partner? and how about akutagawa? also how does their jealousy “look” (as in would they act on it?)thank you :D

So apparently Asagiri personally took it in their hands to answer this ask with this month's chapter lol

Starting off with Akutagawa, because it's something I actually think about often. I agree that his insecurity is so huge and deeply rooted, it would extend to making him believe he has no right to be jealous of Atsushi- because Atsushi is so good, and Akutagawa is so bad, it was inexplicable for them to be together in the first place; and part of Akutagawa is there waiting, expecting the fall out, because it's just unavoidable, because they're just too different, because he doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve Atsushi's love. Akutagawa's lack of self worth being so constraining, he pretty much lies in wait for the day Atsushi will leave him forever (and then is always caught off guard when Atsushi always comes back). Very relevant to this, and something I really like to stretch on, are Akutagawa's abandonment issues that spawn from the traumatic event of Dazai leaving him. Akutagawa expects the people he's the most attached to to grow sick of him and leave, and has little hope Atsushi is going to be any different. He's so abandoned dog coded.

But like, that doesn't change the fact that Akutagawa is jealous. Even if he doesn't think he deserves to be jealous to begin with, even if he would never admit it to himself, he is. He loves Atsushi, he loves him, he wants to keep him by his side, to sink his teeth in his flesh until he tastes his blood. His impulse to keep him is violent, greedy, instinctive, the same of people who grew up with nothing and thus are ready to fight with nails and teeth to protect what little they have. Of people who grew up with too little in a too vicious environment to ever become accustomed to sharing. Of people who grew up used to everything they care for being in constant danger of being stripped away from them.

But Akutagawa can't admit it, right? Not when he has no right to be jealous of Atsushi. So I'm sure Akutagawa's reaction to anything that would trigger that jealousy would be immense passive-aggressiveness and withdrawing into himself, shutting Atsushi out and trying to leave him first as a defense mechanism. A sudden relapse of building up those walls that Atsushi is so good at crushing down as soon as Akutagawa lets his guard down. Seething rage and joyless laughs and “I'm not upset. Actually, I've always know this is how it would end up. Everyone leaves and I'm meant for loneliness, there's no new discovery in this. I didn't care that much anyway.” A little of overacting, but the abandonment issues are real. According to the circumstance, Atsushi can get a little irritated (because there's really no need to be this dramatic), but they fight and then make up as they always do.

When it comes to Atsushi... I agree that with him it's not a kind of jealousy derived from insecurity or lack of trust in Akutagawa's affections. At the same time, I think he'd share Akutagawa's same greed of someone who was never used to own much, and thus is violently defensive and territorial with what he has. And Atsushi is pretty selfish, right? He wants to keep Akutagawa for him, and he's going to react aggressively to anything that threats to take him away.

By the way, Akutagawa is highkey flattered by that. He's so used to meet contempt and rejection that the thought of being reclaimed is simply dreamy for him. Because you know him, he's Akutagawa, he's fucked up, he could only respond to to possessiveness with delight. Forget about being abandoned, you mean to tell him there's someone who believes he's worth killing a god for? Sign him up for life! I'm 100% sure Akutagawa was full face blushing off screen in the last chapter, and couldn't maintain eye contact for too long.

[uwuverisntsilver]

Why IDW didn't develop Silver's character

The go-to defense for Silver's IDW characterization is that he's "developing" because he has friends now. This, like IDW's initial presentation of Silver's backstory, is false.

Question: If no life existed in Silver’s future before he returned to the past to help fight against the Virus, then how was he born? Does changing the future mean that he is instead creating an alternate future and traveling to that new one and ultimately leaving his original doomed future behind somewhere to remain doomed? And regardless, when he returned to his future to see no life and sparse metallic plant life, I find it hard that he didn’t touch anything at all. Was he super duper cautious and didn’t touch anything, not even the ground, or was the Metal Virus no longer contagious at that point in time? Why would animal life deteriorate but not plant life? Ian: In issue 25, Dr. Eggman explains that because botanical cell structure is more rigid in nature and can withstand the degradation of the metal virus much better than animal tissue, but it would still take like 200 years for it to completely degrade so that's why there plant life left behind but no people. It has also been noted that the virus has mutated so it could have become less virulent 200 years later. That's why also his TK powers have been known to mess with electronics. How Silver time travels is a mess. What I have been able to put together from my correspondence with Sega over the years is that the blue sky scene we see at the end of 06 is the future, it's rebuilding and okay. But at the same time it has to be affected by past events since they have him come back to the past in the Forces tie-in comic, but that doesn't make sense since it's suppose to be a static future. The answer is there is no answer, it's not applied with any consistency. I have seen interesting theories from fans who try to come up with a reasoning behind all this, but sadly there is none.

As you can see from that answer. For the first few years of IDW Sonic the writers were under the impression that Silver was still living in the ruined future from the end of his story in Sonic 06.

This is wrong. The ending of 06 where Sonic and Elise blow out Solaris undid Silver's apocalyptic future and created the peaceful one of Sonic Rivals which Silver also mentions in Sonic Colors DS.

But for years IDW thought that Silver’s future was always ruined, that Iblis's devastation was never undone. Silver has not actually lived in a ruined future since 06 but Sonic Team evidently failed to explain this to the IDW staff.

Silver was NOT alone before or after 06. Before 06 Silver’s apocalyptic future had people that lived without hope and Silver did interact with as he questioned them about how the world was destroyed(No one will answer me directly. But they always point… to the flames) and after 06 Silver lives in a peaceful future with happy people. The entire point of his mission in 06 is to save the people of the future. It's also an important part of his backstory that Silver was exposed to constant suffering in his future because Silver cares about smiles. Silver IS still poorly socialized and doesn’t understand things but he was never alone before IDW.

IDW and English Team Sonic Racing perpetuated the idea that Silver was alone for most of his life which is easily disproven by his opening monologue in 06. Ian “Silver doesn’t act rude in any media ever” Flynn most likely missed this since he demonstrably does not research Silver.

This is why in Victory Garden, Silver says there is no lush plant life in his future. He acts like he’s never seen any in his own time before.

This is because the Sonic Rivals games were not considered canon during the first few years of IDW(and the last few years of Archie) and were only re-canonized a couple of years ago.

Which is important because Sonic Rivals 1 has the only explored location we have ever seen of Silver’s post-06 future, Onyx Island(the future version of Angel Island) which is lush and green.

So both Silver’s loneliness and his gardening hobby, the two biggest sources of supposed "development", were based on false pretenses.

Silver’s character in IDW is not different because of “development”. He was different because the comic writers didn’t know what they were working with in the first place because Sonic Team doesn’t tell them.

[tarnishedxknight]

"Because the Empire has never had greater need before now," Gabranth said with dire seriousness. "The stability of all of Ivalice hangs in the balance. The steps we take now could very well affect the world. His Excellency can take few chances with that sort of weight resting upon his shoulders. Forgive me, but there is much deception within the Empire and much threat of espionage from outside it. Out of an abundance of caution, the Emperor chose not to share his suspicions regarding his son. Now, I suspect, that will change, but I cannot speak for him."

"In the grand scheme of life and survival, I am but a single blade of grass in a vast field," Gabranth said stoically. He was no martyr, and he certainly cared greatly about his own survival. After all, he'd fought tooth and nail to survive the fall of Landis, the streets of Old Archades, the ranks of the Archadian military, to claw his way to Judge Magister. One did not accomplish such things if one cared nothing for his survival. And yet... if he had the choice of saving himself and saving the Empire, between himself and Emperor Gramis, between himself and his son Lord Larsa... Gabranth knew he would lay down his life in a heartbeat. "There is far more at stake than only His Eminence..." Gabranth said, his tone a bit softer and sadder for a moment before he straightened again.

Gabranth knew that Gramis would take offense to the knowledge that experimentation on humes - some sort of hume-Occurian hybrid, no less? - was taking place within the Empire. Archadia had stooped to some terrible lows over the past few decades, but slavery and experimentation on hume subjects was not one of them. Gabranth could only hope that Gramis would wish to address the issue, yet also in a delicate way. Any movement against Vayne could cause civil war between the Judge Magisters, between House Solidor and the Senate, and within the House itself. The consequences of that... could be devastating for Archadia and all of Ivalice...

- - - - -

Xenos smiled a little to hear Wanda call him a sweetheart again. She was so very kind, but he wished he could be more of a help to her. She was tired too and doing so much for them both. Unfortunately though, he'd been so weak from being magically restrained, and then from using the little power he had left to break those restraints after Wanda weakened them. It would definitely take time for him to reach his full strength once again.

"Am... awake now," Xenos said. He was tired, but... right now he was also nervous, on guard, and a bit riled with anticipation. "Wish there was something... I could do... to help everyone..." he said sadly, feeling rather like a burden to Wanda and Gabranth. A problem that needed to be taken care of. "Sorry... I have... disrupted so much... here," he apologized, feeling like the whole Empire had been thrown into turmoil because he'd regained his freedom. "I will... let you... do what you need..." he said, gesturing to how she was setting up her magical protections. Hadn't he bothered her enough already?

- - - - -

Gabranth's brief explanation of what had happened was not enough for Drace, but she knew he had to make haste to Gramis, so she did not keep him. They discussed much together. She was privy to anything he knew, for he trusted her to keep mum about it. So she had to hope that he would fill her in later on. Or perhaps... Wanda would be so kind? Unlikely, Drace thought, not because she thought Wanda unkind but because trust was in short supply within the palace, and they had yet to be properly introduced.

She wondered about this Xenos fellow, though. Gabranth seemed to believe he was some sort of creature of legend, a trapped Occurian inside the body of a hume. Drace didn't really know if she believed such a thing was possible, but regardless, whoever or whatever Xenos was, he was powerful. That alone was worthy of great care in the handling of this issue.

When she heard Wanda's acknowledgement, Drace prepared to stand outside the door like a common palace guard, a job far beneath the status of a Judge Magister. For no one else would she do this for than Gabranth... and of course the Emperor if he ever strangely ordered her to.

- - - - -

At Wanda's question, Xenos looked to the door and then back at her. "If you trust... then I will too," he said. Wanda wouldn't let this hume in if she was bad, right? "Okay... to let in... if you want."

"Who are you? I do not believe we have met." (for Xenos because reasons)

It had been Gabranth's duty to show the Emperor's new sage around the palace and the capital city, helping to familiarize her with important locations she may need to know during her stay. If she was to assist His Eminence with war strategies and grant him advice on what direction to take the Empire in the future, she would need to know what was going on there. Thus, one of the stops on their tour was the Draklor Laboratory.

The Laboratory was a massive seventy-floor building within which all sorts of research important to the Empire was conducted. Everything from airship design, to weapons development, and magical pursuits were studied there, and at some of the topmost floors were the offices and lab of Dr. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, known by most as Dr. Cid. He was not only the head researcher of Draklor Laboratory, he was also the chief writer of science, technology, and magical policies for the Archadian Imperial Army, which funded the Laboratory. Dr. Cid was also one of Vayne Solidor's main go-tos for secret nethicite research serving the prince's agenda.

Gabranth took Wanda up to Dr. Cid's offices, but the man was not there. This was typical, for Cid was always something of a free spirit, and he often went out in search of materials for his experiments. He took Wanda on to see Cid's laboratory anyway, explaining to her that this was where the Empire was attempting to safely study the effects of nethicite. Even as he said it, though, he scarcely believed his own words. Cid was anything but safe. If rumors were true, and Gabranth had at least some evidence in support of them, then Cid's might was slowly beginning to slip. Regardless, Gabranth gave Wanda a superficial look at the lab, for she mostly just needed to know where it was, in case she needed to talk to Cid at some point, and not so much its intricate inner workings.

When she seemed to stop by a rather ornate looking set of double doors - doors with a strong magical ward for a locking system - Gabranth was soon tasked with explaining that, no, Cid did not experiment on living beings. His research was mostly chemical, magical, and technological. He wondered why Wanda would fixate on the doors and ask such a question, but none of his spies or his own reconnaissance had indicated that Cid was experimenting with live creatures. "It may be a storage room for nethicite or other highly dangerous magical components," he explained, feeling the Mist within him stirring, and not just because of the magical lock on the doors. In his mind, that was the only explanation that made sense.

Oh, but there was a living being inside the room, and he was quite tortured, frightened, and sad. His emotion was so thick and heavy, it came off him in waves to one who was even mildly empathetic like Wanda. Even through a magically locked door, the imprisoned and enslaved being Xenos gave off a heartbreaking and desperate amount of suffering that permeated the room and even beyond it. His magical power also branched out into his surrounding environment, even magically bound such as he was.

When Wanda returned later without Gabranth, that same energy and emotion was apparent the moment she got within the near vicinity of the doors. For someone with magic as unique and versatile as Wanda, the magical locking glyph placed on the door was certainly no match. Once the doors were unlocked and opened, a sorrowful sight met her eyes.

The room was bare, sterile, with no sign of warmth or kindness. A marble floor, two pillars made of a different type of stone, and a man kneeling between them, slumped where he sat, a mess of chains tethering him to the pillars. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of linen pants and a tattered cloak, the hood of which was draped over his head. His wrists were shackled, connected to chains that were rooted in the stone pillars on either side of him. Those shackles were then also chained to a third shackle around his neck. Small glowing glyphs of warding, suppression, and control glowed on each of the shackles.

When Wanda entered the room, Xenos slowly lifted his head, feeling her presence even if he hadn't heard her first. Her magic was significant, he could feel it, but he didn't know who she was. Was she here to hurt him? Probably. Everyone else here was. He shakily rose to his feet and backed away slowly, until the chains pulled taut and he couldn't go any further. Trembling and a bit folded in on himself, Xenos stood there, clearly afraid of Wanda.

He was very lean, probably too thin for a man of his height. And there was an unnatural blackness to his hands and feet, continuing up his arms and likely his legs too if they could've been seen under his pants, until it brightened into a bronze skin tone. Red glowing eyes could be seen peeking from underneath his hood.

Her question, though... was strange. Usually people just came in and started ordering him around, inflicting pain with magic if he did not comply. They didn't usually want to chat with him, or ask his identity. Did she not know who he was? Was she not told? If she didn't know, then why was she here? Maybe she wasn't here to hurt him after all.

Xenos slowly moved to one of the pillars, his left arm being harshly pulled in the direction of the other pillar by the short chain even as his right hand softly touched the pillar before him. He huddled against the stone, partially obscuring himself with it, feeling safer when he wasn't standing entirely out in the open. "Xenos..." he answered her, his voice a raspy whisper from lack of use. "I... am Xenos..."

[ourceliumnetwork]

dreams were kind of focused on a particular theme that both made me feel more settled about some things but also not in the way i'd prefer to have been made settled about them, if that makes sense?

let me explain. no no, it's too much. let me sum up (but for real this time)

essentially it was "hey what if we (the powers that be for lack of a better categorization) sent you back to being a small child/baby and you just...relived your life with all your memories from this one? Just for shits and giggles to see how you'd do it differently"

and like... yeah. Not only would I take that offer but also I would gladly change a lot of things. Or at least react to them differently. Or I'd want to try anyway even if I can't quite react properly in the moment the after effects would be handled differently and... and yeah. I'd change a whole bunch of shit. Absolutely I would. A lot of terrible things happened to me and a lot of people were really mean to me for a very long time. A lot of my life circumstances were avoidable and I would absolutely avoid all of the ones I possibly could. And i'd get started on others that i'm just now getting on top of. Like...

idk. I don't often think about it because i can't change the past, I don't get a do-over. I would be a deeply unsettling child were this to happen which would make several other things about my experiences actually worse because I was already a kind of unusual kid, thanks to the whole *gestures at whole self* me thing. But it was interesting the parts that my brain picked out for me to attempt do-overs with.

this weirdly tied in with my dreams from last night which consisted mainly of trying to inhabit an old dilapidated house my nana supposedly owned but had been out of repair because no one lived there full time (or it was too big to live in the major spaces so there was massive disrepair everywhere) and the floors kept falling out from underneath people trying to get from room to room in the upper floors. anyway that was not relevant to last night but is in keeping with the greater theme of My Family Causes Me Undue Stress Constantly Because Of The Way They Are.

Anyway, i'm not quite sure what part of the living situation i'm going to be focusing on going through today and making sure is ready to be packed when we've got a box free (or freeing up a smaller box for something idk) but i'll get there. at least we've got internet today.

[wu-does-art]

I fcking loved the sally face au where the gang knew each other since kids, please post more of this au (also, ur art is so cool!!)

:]

ask and you shall receive!