#and then tried to fervently fix the mistake but it still looked green

[krys-does-art-stuff]

Thea and the boys are on the case!

Had some fun with some pencil and highlighter colored doodles while putting the gang in more historical-esqe clothes.

July 2024

[nik-the-bik]

"Finally, Acknowledgement" - Jekyll/Utterson Fanfic

Self-indulgent? Me? Never!

Summary: Young Henry Jekyll writes a letter to Gabriel Utterson. He has a lot on his mind and says maybe a little too much.

This exists within this elaborate headcanon I’ve come up with that lingers a lot during Jekyll & Utterson’s time in college. I imagine that most of the intense moments of their personal relationship happened when they were much younger, and over time they eased into the dynamic they have in the original canon out of a need for something effortless, painless, and predictable (with both not wholly satisfied but unable to articulate why).

Content Warnings: glossing over Victorian-era attitudes towards homosexuality and sexuality in general, brief descriptions of sexual acts, alcohol mention, religion mention, general angst warning.

***

Dearest Gabriel John Utterson,

I fear I owe you a massive apology. You must think me the worst of correspondents, and frankly you would be right. Yes, I have received the letters you’ve been sending these last few months. Yes, I know that you’re asking after me – even prying for information when you write to Lanyon. He showed me the last letter you sent him – most of it was fussing over me.

My sincerest apologies for the lack of response. It is not meant out of malice, dear Gabriel. I have tried, believe me, I have tried too many times, to write to you. The problem is that no letter of mine can possibly fix what I worry I have done to our friendship before your parting. My silence must be compounding these mistakes, I know, but I fervently believe the only remedy is to make a clean breast of everything, explaining why I lashed out so cruelly when you left. Hopefully that explains my hesitation in sending this to you before now.

My Gabriel, you have long been my dearest friend and confidant, and I know that I can trust you with anything. I know you will have the discretion to handle what I’m about to confess with grace and will not allow these words meant for you alone to reach anyone else. That knowledge still does not calm the terror in my heart as I try to form the right sentences – so I will put it simply.

Gabriel Utterson, I adore you and can’t stand to be without you.

There was a day about a year and a half ago as we were completing exams – do you recall? It was a hot summer day, and most of our mutual friends were done with their classes for the time being. You had completed your last paper for the term, and our friends wanted to let off some stress with sport, kicking around a ball out in the green and generally roughhousing. I had one more test yet to take, so I sat aside from everyone else with my textbook in hand, trying to study. You had wanted to sit out with me and help me prepare, but I insisted that you run off with everyone else. It was hard to focus with the noise of the games, and I kept glancing back up from my book with curiosity.

I heard someone shout your name, and I lifted my head to find you had run close to where I was situated. You stopped to intercept a pass and sent the ball back along to another teammate, but before your attention returned to the game, your eyes caught mine. I had not seen you so alive – your hair was slightly disheveled, and your skin glistened lightly from the sun beating into your dewy face, but there was a gleeful glint in your eyes as your face broke out into the most joyful grin I had ever seen, and my heart stopped when I realized it was fully directed at me. You breathlessly panted “hello” at me before running back into the game, and in that brief, glorious instant I realized you were the most beautiful person I had ever had the pleasure of looking upon.

I know there was no cruel intention on your part, nor any intention at all, but from that moment forth, I was tortuously smitten.

I got no further studying done. I’m not sure if you ever noticed that I spent the rest of the time watching you, studying the movement of your body, admiring you. I could find myself admiring the bodies of some of the other boys too, but yours drew my eyes the most. That day was pure curiosity as I tried to pinpoint the cause of my sudden interest in your figure. I had casually appreciated its fineness when we used to dress in our shared room, but now there was a new layer to that appreciation, colored by a selfish tint of desire.

Desire bloomed.

Did you notice that I was much more distant from that moment on? That I had a harder time speaking clearly around you, that my eyes found reasons to not look directly at yours? You flustered me; I couldn’t look at you without acknowledging that I also deeply wanted you, a want that was powerful and surprising enough to terrify me. After a few weeks, I could no longer deny that there was an attraction to men that I had stubbornly ignored my whole life up until now, and a special attraction to you in particular.

I was enticed by the warmth of your eyes; kind, understanding, gentle. I pleasured in the sound of your voice; soft, steady, and relaxing like the trickle of a brook. I admired the fineness of your hands, surprisingly dexterous as they repaired buttons on your shirts (you would make an excellent surgeon, my dear, if you ever chose to give up law and take up making sutures). I adored the soft wave of your hair, the effortless grace with which you moved, the air with which you held yourself, and the compassion you extended even to strangers. My dearest Gabriel, you are immaculate, and when you used to mindlessly undress in the comfort of our room after a long day, and I chanced a glimpse of your porcelain skin, the angle of your hips, the muscles of your thighs, I could only bite my lip and tear my gaze away to prevent my thoughts from wandering into the savage. You frightened me, and I could feel myself coil up as a fire burned through my belly, knowing that one misstep from either of us, and I would be unable to stop myself from springing on you.

Night after night, I lay awake agonizing over the steady sound of your breathing in the bed across from my own, fighting every impulse to leap up and cross the gap to join you, dreaming of arms wrapped tightly around you in your bed, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, lips dancing across your skin as my hands hungrily took you for my own. In the darkest of these fancies you were little more than flesh I could sink my nails and teeth into, and I spent too many nights running to the privacy of the bathroom and fumbling with trembling hands to find some respite. I’d slink back to bed more calm but ashamed, hating myself for harboring such carnal desires for someone so perfect and chaste as yourself.

I soon sought out the company of other men. It isn’t hard to find men of similar persuasion once you choose to search. There’s a tiny, dark pub not far from where we used to live that is secretly home to a bathhouse, and there you could run into any character of man. For a brief time, I was a popular commodity there – a young, tall newcomer – and I got to have my pick of companions. I made sure to remain a stranger and enjoyed the attention of some beautiful strangers in turn. It wasn’t enough. Even during the deepest throes of pleasure, I was plagued with the wish that the men writhing beneath me were you – you, you, you. I still longed for my lips to be blessed enough to breathe your name in that ecstatic prayer, and each short-lived fling left me with an ache in my soul to see you bare and vulnerable, and also be vulnerable to you. I’d trade the time I spent with them all for a single moment with you, my darling, a moment where I would happily succumb to any demand you may have of me.

Those nights I’d wander home in the dark, slightly drunk, and find a light still glowing in our room at even the latest hours. You’d always lift your head from your pillow, wipe away the sleep from your eyes, and smile at me affectionately, glad to know I was home. Do you realize that you broke my heart each time? You fussed and worried over me, unaware of my depravity and obsession with you that was the cause of this new unexplained behavior. You never pried into what I was doing, although part of me wishes you had, so that I could confess all. Oh, my kind, thoughtful Gabriel. You are too wonderful a friend for your own good.

Months trickled away and my insatiable lust for you (let’s be frank and call it by its true name) only grew, but I soon found myself missing your innocent companionship so desperately that I was able to bat the sin away for a few hours at a time to enjoy a night out with a group of our shared friends, or a deeply personal conversation between you, myself, and Lanyon. It took a while, but once I felt comfortable enough to rekindle that genuine friendship, I was able to temporarily quiet my basest urges and simply enjoy the pleasure of your company again. I could see that you were glad things were back to a semblance of normalcy, too, rather than that stifled geniality I had put up. Those kind favors that you had always paid me became more frequent than I had remembered. I must confess that I relished the extra attention, and I found myself blushing like a child and going out of my way to dote on you as well. I felt more comfortable enjoying the warmth of your smile over the fire of my lust, which still reared its mighty head nightly. My dreams were a confused mash of the two, with tender whispers and warm glances melting into eager, impatient kisses that twisted into me ravaging your body, drawing red lines across your flawless skin.

How I coveted you, Gabriel.

I still do.

You might remember that night about a month before you left where our group went out to several bars. I have never known you to be a heavy drinker, but something in you wanted to keep pace with me that night, and you became more intoxicated than I had ever seen you. You began the night tense and uncertain, but soon you stared at me with heavily lidded eyes and your smile became more of a smirk, and I began to worry that through the haze of alcohol you had somehow discovered what you hadn’t while sober. Earlier than either of us anticipated, I was helping you home, secretly delighting in the weight of your body pressed up against mine for support, arm draped across my shoulders while I guided you by the waist.

I don’t think you remember what happened when we made it back.

I helped you tumble onto your bed, and you immediately made room and gestured for me to sit next to you. I happily obliged, appreciating that alcohol made you even more mellow and friendly than usual, rather than loud like some of our other acquaintances. You began to ask me questions about your older brothers, wondering if I thought them more adequate than you. I insisted that I liked you best while you played with the hem of my jacket between your thumb and forefinger, a gentle, mild act of physical affection that nevertheless caused my stomach to fill with butterflies. Without thinking, I brushed the hair out of your eyes, and you caught my hand and pressed it tight to your cheek. My heart stopped and my eyes widened at the sudden gesture, and I quickly snatched my hand away and stood up, breathing hard.

I could see a strong sadness fill your eyes at my sudden rebuff, but what was I to do? Your innocent, friendly affection would have led me down a path far more perverse than either of us was prepared to explore, especially when you were in this state. I would have corrupted you, done something that we would both loathe me for in the morning.

Still, I did not expect the tears you shed.

I tried to calm you, apologizing, and sat next to you again. You flung your arms around my neck, and I held you there until you quieted yourself, heart aching the whole time. At last, you pulled away and laid yourself down, but you grabbed my arm and pulled me down next to you, forcing me to lay close on the tiny single bed. You were soon fast asleep, and it was then my turn to lay there and weep, hating myself for not being worthy enough to deserve the regard you had for me. I wanted nothing more than to be half the man you thought me, wanted so desperately to hold you close to my chest but didn’t dare let my arms take hold of you, knowing that I wouldn’t let go if I did. It was now clear to me. I was not simply subjecting you to being the object of my twisted fantasies and carnal desires. In dreaming after you, I was actively hurting you as my friend.

By the time you were up the next morning, I had already gone out.

You know that I was distant for the next few weeks. I wanted to repair our friendship but knew I couldn’t do it feeling the way I did about you. I tried to show you kindness from afar. Bringing home your favorite tea, organizing your desk for you while you were out. But I kept further away than before, I couldn’t bring myself to be alone with you again if I could help it. I spent a day at church, trying to pray for some freedom from my passions, but quickly gave up that route when I felt dirty simply for being there, blasphemer that I was. I was in the labs daily, throwing myself into my studies.

Lanyon saw me more than he was used to, as I was desperate to seek a distraction that wouldn’t lead to me thinking about you. He was how I found out about you moving away from London for that opportunity with the law firm in Glasgow.

He didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t know a thing about it.

I came home to you and confronted you. Childish, I see now. I don’t need to repeat the foul things I said about you or your decision; stupid, cruel things borne out of some backwards belief that I could guilt you into staying here with me. I can’t take them back. I hate that I said them, hate myself for my brutality. I apologize for everything.

While I was furious in the moment, you never once matched my anger. You saw right through me, knew why I was behaving irrationally, called me out on my hypocrisy, since I had actively avoided you for so long that you hadn’t had a chance to say anything to me sooner. I stormed back to Lanyon that night, and he offered the spare bed. Regrettably, I stayed with him for the next few days, unable to quell my anger or heartbreak enough to face you despite how quickly the time of your departure approached. I half hoped ignoring it meant it wouldn’t happen. Another childish mistake.

I cannot apologize to you enough for my embarrassing behavior. I have only dug the trench that was separating us deeper. Simply put, I can’t control myself around you, Gabriel. You rob me of my rationality.

Lanyon dragged me to your going away party. I half-avoided you all night, even though I could see that you wanted to speak with me. I knew my heart wouldn’t survive saying any kind of goodbye, and I would probably make an ass of myself if my tongue got the better of me and I began saying all of this to your face instead of hiding behind my pen like I am now. I left the bar early, engaged in some frivolous indulgence. When I later stumbled towards our home and saw the light still shining from our window, I turned around, back into the black of night. It’s not what I wanted for you, for us, but I’m too much a coward.

As you know, I did make it to the train station.

Your smile as our eyes met was kinder than I deserve. The train was starting to pull away, and you were waving your final goodbyes to the party who had gathered to see you off. I was too far away to say anything, but you saw me. You smiled. You raised a hand goodbye. And when the train had pulled completely out of sight, I collapsed on the first empty seat I crossed.

I don’t know how long I sat there. I don’t even remember how I managed to get home, but I remember stepping through the threshold into our tiny, shared dorm, seeing your empty desk, wardrobe, and neatly made up bed, and becoming a sobbing heap. I clutched your pillow to my heart and screamed into it, in a greater agony than I had ever felt.

I realized far, far too late that I was madly in love with you.

I’m in love with you, Gabriel John Utterson.

I’ve always loved you.

Even before that day out in the sun, even before I was haunted by my physical attraction to you, I was in love with you. My lust is just a byproduct of my love, a warped physical manifestation of the enduring passion of my soul. I have held you in higher regard than anyone else I have ever known, for your kind heart is more earnest and genuine than the rest of mankind put together. I admire your loyalty, your compassion, your calm rationality, your intelligence, even your ridiculous ability to string together a row of mind-grating puns.

I love you, Gabriel.

I miss you.

I’m so sorry, for everything. I do not deserve to stand as your friend. I confess everything to you now, not as a desperate plea for your affection in return, or even as a wish for your forgiveness. I simply ask for your understanding.

You are my heaven and my hell, my darling, paradoxically the greatest source of both joy and sorrow that I have ever known.

I love you, endlessly, desperately, selfishly. It’s not a love that someone like you deserves.

You are allowed to be repulsed by me and my feelings. I wouldn’t blame you for a moment. You didn’t ask for this, and you’re not at fault for any of it. My greatest hope is that you might pity poor Henry Jekyll long enough to allow him to float through a few chapters of your life as a mere acquaintance. Anything more than becoming just a memory is a blessing to me.

You, Gabriel, are a blessing to me.

Beautiful, wonderful, you.

I’m so sorry, my dear.

Devoted to you, and only you, forever and always,

Henry

*****

The pen clattered from Henry’s hand and onto the desk. He rubbed his eyes and left his seat to throw himself onto his bed.

In the morning, without reading anything he had written the night prior, Henry folded the letter and brought it to his lips. He slipped it into an envelope and tucked it away, unaddressed, in his desk drawer. Within the week, the letter joined all the others in the fireplace, smoldering away into nothingness.

[oatmilkslytherin]

about time (g.weasley)

description: george weasley and fem!reader have been best friends ever since they began attending hogwarts together. after so many years of like turning into love, george feels as if he’s too late to confess his feelings towards his best friend who is now in a loving relationship with adrian pucey. that is, until he finds out adrian’s dirty secret.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader, slight adrian pucey x fem!reader

warnings: mention of sexual themes

requested: yes / no

taglist: @jud3cardan​ @potatothingsz​ 

a/n: another character i’ve been dying to write for because i’m in love w the weasleys<33 also lowkey in love with adrian pucey sorry <33

you had been a quidditch fan since before you could remember. even before your attendance at hogwarts, your father used to keep you up to date on all the quidditch-related news, players, etc. so when you began attending hogwarts, your love for quidditch had only sky-rocketed. when your best friends joined the gryffindor house team, it doubled if even possible. 

although you never had a knack for playing, you absolutely loved watching your favorite twins causing a commotion up on their brooms. they would always be the ones to try to catch your eyes in the stands as you cheered relentlessly for them, but you couldn’t deny the fact that a certain pair of eyes always made you melt under them.

george weasley. even his name caused you to blush wildly at the mere sound of it. you and george had become best friends during your first year after a prank-gone-wrong in your potions class. although the memory was from long ago, you couldn’t forget his singed eyebrows and lime green hair. you, on the other hand, managed to get away with a lime-green stain on your robes. ever since then, it was history.

you had always thought your relationship with george was strictly platonic. you two spent many nights together planning pranks and distractedly studying for your classes. that was, until one night when fred had retrieved you from the library, out of breath as he ran up to you mumbling about fred’s disheveled and drunken state in the gryffindor common room. 

while you knew the gryffindor house was throwing a party for an end of the year celebration, you decided against attending due to your stress from o.w.l examinations. in the midst of your studying, fred had quickly but silently ran up to you in the library, his own steps slightly haphazard and clumsy as he crouched by your table. he claimed that george had a bit too much to drink, and was refusing to go to bed unless you were there with him. while the request caught you wildly off guard, you agreed and followed fred to the gryffindor common room to coax your best friend to turn in for the night.

while everything had been platonic up to that point, you couldn’t forget the way george clung to you as you walked him to his dorm. his half-lidded gaze and incoherent mumblings made you smile as you eventually reached his room. you were close to turn away until he insistently slurred on you staying with him for the night, to which you reluctantly agreed. since then, you haven’t been able to forget the way he wrapped himself around you under the covers, the way he drunkenly spoke about how much he loved you.

the next day, you began to think it was all either a lie, or he just meant it in the platonic sense. you decided on the latter, as he had been acting completely normal around you like the previous night never happened. 

you chose to never bring it up again in fear of ruining your friendship, but you couldn’t deny how undeniably infatuated you were with your best friend. 

now, you didn’t have time to remember or forget the incident. closely following george’s drunken night in the common room, you had been approached by none other than adrian pucey, the chaser for the slytherin quidditch team. you had always thought pucey was handsome, but more in an admiring-from-afar sort of way. it became much more than that, however, when you two began dating.

although george wouldn’t admit it, the thought of you dating pucey itched at his skin. he couldn’t stand being around you two when you were together, as it took every fibre of his being to not punch adrian into the ground for stealing you away.

you were never his to begin with, but he felt cheated. cheated in the way that he wanted you all to himself, and he would’ve loved the chance to soberly tell you that, but his own nerves and doubts got in the way. only after you and adrian started dating did fred accidentally spill the fact that you had basically been in love with george. george now kicked himself on not jumping on his only opportunity earlier, or what he thought was his only opportunity.

george wandered aimlessly around the quidditch pitch and changing rooms, kicking at the loose rocks and tufts of grass that got in his way. he didn’t want to be near the castle right now, as it only meant that he would have to deal with seeing you and adrian being all lovey-dovey during dinner. 

the thought killed him. he wanted nothing more than to be with you, both in a romantic and best friendship sort of way. that’s what he loved most about you; the way that you were so comfortable being your fully authentic self around him. now, he was reduced to only being your best friend. while he was still glad to be in your life in that sense, he knew deep down he wanted more. 

george stopped his pacing abruptly when he heard a slam come from the slytherin changing rooms. george furrowed his brows slightly at the sound, knowing that no one besides him would be out by the pitch during dinner. as his curiosity peaked, george quietly made his way into the slytherin changing rooms, poking his head through the doors to get a glimpse of the source.

what he saw then made his jaw drop to the floor.

adrian pucey with his trousers half down and a girl who was not you wrapped around his hips and pressed against the wall. adrian’s head snapped towards the door as george poked his head in, his eyes widening as he caught a glimpse. in a panic, he nearly dropped the nameless girl from her position on the wall, scrambling to pull his pants back up as the girl scrambled for her own shirt. 

george was absolutely stunned at the sight. while he had known pucey to be a rather egotistical slytherin, he never thought in a million years he would be a cheater. from what george saw, pucey seemed absolutely enamored by you, always hanging off of your arm and pressing soft kisses anywhere that you allowed. 

but this, definitely was not that.

“you’re a dead man, pucey,” george spat, shaking his head slightly before retreating from the slytherin changing rooms. adrian stuttered as he tried to think of some excuse, fumbling over his own feet as he paced after george, who was already heading back to the castle. 

“it’s not what it looks like, weasley. please don’t tell y/n,” adrian pleaded, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. george had only scoffed, not even bothering to turn to face adrian in fear that he would only punch him, both for the fact that he had cheated on the girl he loved, as well as the fact that he took her from him in the first place.

“right, like i’m not going to tell my best friend you’re shagging someone else during dinner. tough luck, buddy,” george laughed lightly in attempt to suppress his anger towards the situation. without another word, george paced fervently back into the castle with only one thing on his mind: you.

-

word got around hogwarts fast. most people shunned adrian for doing something so harsh to someone like you, someone who wouldn’t even dare hurt a fly. others thought it was typical of him to do something so vile given his egotistical nature. you, on the other hand, were entirely heartbroken and shattered by the news.

thankfully, george was the one to tell you. he told you how he found them in the slytherin changing rooms by the pitch, and how he pleaded him not to tell you. you thanked him for being honest, but it didn’t change the fact that your now ex-boyfriend was cheating on you for merlin knows how long. 

adrian had tried to apologize to you and mend what he broke. you were not having any of it, though. 

it had been a week since george told you the gut-wrenching news. you figured the entire situation was over and done with since adrian had not even attempted to make amends. you were proved wrong, however, when a sharp knock elicited from your dorm room door. you reluctantly pried it open, your eyes meeting none other than adrian himself, his own cheeks slightly flushed and stained with tears. looking at him, you thought you would burst into tears. you only allowed yourself to remain emotionless and cold as he stood in front of you.

“please, y/n. it was a mistake. i love YOU, and only you,” adrian pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes as he croaked out his cries. you only shook your head, scoffing at his attempts to fix his horrid mistake.

“if you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have done it. we’re done, pucey, end of the story,” you ruthlessly spat at him, anger overcoming your entirety as you spoke. before he could get another word in, you muttered another short ‘no’ followed by lesser kind words before you slammed the door in his face. 

less than a minute later, another knock sounded from your door, making you groan in frustration. you pried yourself from the comfort of your bed once more, stomping over to the door before wrenching it open.

“i told you, pucey. i’m not getting back-” you cut your sentence short as your gaze met the figure’s in front of you, who was most definitely not adrian.

george stood with his eyes wide at your slight outburst, a small grin tugging at his lips despite your frustration.

“remind me to never cross you,” george spoke lightheartedly. your hardened gaze softened as you stepped to the side, welcoming george into your dorm. you shut the door softly behind him as he sat at the edge of your bed.

“i’m sorry, adrian was just here, i thought he came back for some forsaken reason,” you grumbled, letting yourself slouch back onto your bed next to george. george only gave you a soft, sympathetic smile, turning to face you.

“how are you feeling?” george asked as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. it was the smallest of affections, but it made you blush uncontrollably. you tried to suppress it by averting your attention to the space in between you and him.

“fine, i suppose. i cried it all out, now i’m just angry, i think,” you spoke truthfully. in the past two days of your heartbreak, you had grown to realize that the thought of adrian cheating on you hurt, of course, but you didn’t want to waste tears on someone who didn’t appreciate you enough to begin with. the more you thought about it, the more you realized that adrian’s love language was all for show. on paper, he appeared like an absolute gentleman who could do no harm. behind closed doors, however, it was like he didn’t care if you were there or not. 

in your opinion, it all seemed like an unnecessary, grotesque publicity stunt. the only thing adrian didn’t realize, though, was that there was no one who cared about him enough to watch. 

“i’m sorry, y/n. you deserve better,” george spoke, his hand reaching to grab yours in his, grazing his thumb lightly over the back of your hand. shivers shot throughout your spine at his touch, the heat rising back to your cheeks as you suppressed the soft smile pulling at your lips. 

besides your sudden realization that adrian had no sustenance in a relationship, you also couldn’t help but wonder if you only said ‘yes’ to him because you wanted to get your mind off of someone else. while you admitted that it wasn’t fair of you to write your relationship with adrian off as you just using him to get over your unrequited love of george, you knew that deep down you knew it was never meant to last. 

now, as george sat side-by-side with you, your hand in his as he traced indefinable figured on the back of your hand, you realized that all you wanted all along was him. 

you glanced up at george quickly before settling your gaze back on the bedding, a soft smile stringing along your lips.

“yeah? like who?” you asked, laughing slightly at your own question. george smirked as his other hand reached up, two of his fingers tucking themselves under your chin and pulling your face up to look him in the eyes. your body was coursing with nerves and excitement, your heart beating rapidly as you had just taken note of the close proximity between you two. 

“i, for one, would never cheat on you,” george said playfully, a red hue glazing his features as he smiled at you. you couldn’t help but smile back at him as you stared deeply into his brown eyes.

“well, i suppose that would apply if we were dating, but we’re not,” you spoke equally as playfully. george let out a light laugh as he inched his face closer to yours, your noses grazing against one another’s. your heart beat increased rapidly as you felt his warm breath against your lips, your own breath hitching at his closeness.

“we could be. and i could tell you over and over again how wonderful and worth it you are,” george said, his voice barely above a whisper. you bit down on your lower lip lightly as your mind raced with the idea of being with the one person you haven’t been able to get your mind off of for who knows how long.

“i suppose we could, then,” you breathlessly replied. george smiled at your flustered response, finally closing the gap between the two of you and pressing his lips against yours. 

you immediately melted into the kiss, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you tangled one of your hands in his soft hair. george immediately responded to your actions by settling his hands on your waist, pulling you closer into him until your legs draped over his lap. 

your lips met his with enraged passion, smiles and laughter spilling from both of your mouths as your lips met over and over again in pure ecstasy. in a slight fit of laughter, you both pulled away, breathless and eyes sparkling with excitement. you and george still remained tangled together, looking into each other’s eyes as you smiled widely. 

george pressed a few more sweet kisses to multiple plots on your face, nearly assaulting you with his lips on your skin. you couldn’t help but throw your head back in laughter, your head spinning at the thought of finally being able to kiss your best friend. george couldn’t suppress his own smiles and laughs, leaning down to press a final kiss to your lips.

“merlin, you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do that.”

[slytherin-puffskein]

little wish upon the waves.

If only we could be reborn. Let's play again then, okay?

for @hogwartsmysterystory

- - -

His palms were red, and his knuckles white as he kept clenching and unclenching his hands. His breath was stuck in his ragged throat. His eyes were stinging, too many tears have been shed. For a short moment, he considered this to be a huge mistake. For a short moment, he considered going back home, back to Barnaby, back to his Kneazle and Puffskein, away from all this pain and suffering.

But he couldn’t. He had to do this. He had sworn himself to do it, and would never forgive himself if he were to chicken out. He will do it, and walk away with a massive weight finally off his shoulders.

America is odd. Extremely odd. Different money, mannerisms, food, everything, and it didn’t fit quite well with Laurent King’s tastes. He would be considered a liar if he were to claim he enjoyed Michigan more than Kildare, and would definitely say the truth if he declared America sucked. However, it had to be taken into consideration that he might be biased. After all, maybe all of this it only felt bad because of the reason he was here. Maybe under different circumstances, he would have found the strength to smile, even laugh. But now, he only found himself wandering through grey streets with an ashen face and hunched shoulders, fingers nervously playing with his engagement ring as he tried to ignore his heart hammering against his chest.

All of his attempts to calm himself down weren’t giving out any satisfying results, however. If he were to be honest, he would have preferred to have Barnaby by his side, but he knew very well he couldn’t. He said it himself. Stay here, love. It’s... it’s something I need to deal with myself. Luckily, his fiancé has been understanding, but he still hugged him tightly before he left. Maybe he’s reliving memories, bad ones, and fearing them. Us parting away once again, and even though it’s under different circumstances he might be scared we won’t be reunited until a while. I must admit, I feel the same way as well...

The Battle of Hogwarts had carved deep scars onto their hearts.

Where it is... where it is... it’s supposed to be around here... The sound of waves crashing together filled his ears and irritated him, a reaction that made him stop in his tracks for a second. Usually anything coming from nature had the power to appease him and bring a smile on his face, but now he was just wishing for silence. How odd. That was his only wish, which contrasted heavily to the loud guy he generally was. However, if all sounds suddenly died down he would then be doomed to mull over his own thoughts, which he fervently wished to avoid.

There it is.

It wasn’t hard to miss, really, and Laurent felt pretty disgruntled that he hadn’t noticed it earlier. Maybe he has been too lost in his own head, too distracted to focus on anything. He had much to think about, after all. His eyes fluttered shut as he attempted to empty his mind, but only deformed faces from the war rushed through him. Bulging, bloody eyes, twisted mouth with rotten teeth, crooked fingers reaching for him, the suddenly pain of the spell hitting his leg... his unconsciously leaned down and touched his calf, feeling the hard metal underneath his pants.

The Battle of Hogwarts had carved deep scars onto his body.

He slowly stepped forward, gaze fixed on the grass, watching it slowly move under the soft breeze. It felt cold, and it nipped at Laurent’s cheek in the most unpleasant way possible.

Closing his eyes once again, he saw himself with his mother. His whore of a mother. He had learned many things about her, but yet he couldn’t bring himself to hate her. Not entirely. Not after all the advice she had given him.

One, specifically.

“Do you know how wishes are made, my love?” She has been speaking French that day, like they would do when they were home. Learning English has been a hard feat for her following her meeting with the British man who would become her future husband, and so she had never hesitated to speak her mother tongue to her son out of nostalgia and as a way to teach it to him. “You write a message on a piece of paper. It doesn’t matter how long it is. You write down your wish, and place it in a glass bottle. Then, you throw it in the ocean, and if you’re lucky enough it might come true.”

He had his wish. He had a bottle. He had Lake Michigan stretching out besides him.

And he had Ethren Acheron Whitecross’ grave standing before him, silent and almost mocking him with what it was implying.

Hi, your friend is dead.

Laurent quietly pulled out a letter from his coat’s pocket and, with shaky fingers, placed it in front of the cold stone. Looking at the green envelope, he smiled softly, but no joy was behind that simple action. The letter’s content floated in his mind, crushing his heart.

You are cordially invited to Laurent Dorian King and Barnaby Cecil Lee’s wedding.

Now, he had his wish to make. His letter. He slid it out from his other pocket along with the bottle, and rolled it before placing it inside. He sealed it carefully, and made sure it wouldn’t accidentally open from too harsh movements.

With trembling legs threatening to give out at any moment, he headed to the lake, its waves crashing against the shore and sounding like it was beckoning him to just get this over with already. A last look was given to the bottle before he kissed it gently, a tear rolling down his cheek. Once he managed to gather his courage together he took a few steps back, and tossed the message as hard and as far as he could.

Staring as it crashed into the merciless waves, he finally allowed himself to openly sob.

- - -

Dear Ethren,

I don’t know even know if you will receive this message. My mom told me this method might work, message in a bottle thrown in the sea and all that jazz, but we both know that she is quite unreliable. Still, I figured out it was worth a shot. Anything to talk to you somehow.

Talk. How funny. ‘You can’t talk to dead people’ was said way too many times to me, but people never considered how I couldn’t care less about their claims. This is my life, my business, my own shit to deal with, and no one else shall get a say about it. As you can see, I ignored their advice and proceeded to write this. 

I... don’t know how it works when you are dead. Obviously. But I always believed deceased people were somewhere, watching over us with a look filled with love... or judgment. After all, you probably judged me when you saw that Niffler bite me.

But you probably looked at me with the most sincere love as Barnaby proposed to me. If you didn’t, it’s fine, and it’s my way to announce it to you: I’m engaged. To Barnaby. Finally, right? I’m pretty sure you were convinced we’d end up married as soon as we started dating. I know for sure a lot of people thought so, so why not you?

Anyway, I’m getting distracted. Writing a letter is hard, I need to keep my ideas together, and you know very well how scatter brained I can be.

Ethren Acheron Whitecross. You’re dead. I finally accepted it, but it won’t stop me from inviting you to my wedding. Let me give you a rundown of what will now happen: I’ll visit your grave. I’ll throw this letter in the lake, I’ll place an official invitation on your grave.

And I’ll hope you will get my message and come to my wedding. You can’t physically come, but your soul can be around, right? Like Hogwarts’ ghosts, just not fully visible.

As I said I know little of death, but I know this: I want you to be here. You’re my friend, Ethren. Were, are, and will always be, no matter what happens. I love you, and no arrow through the heart can change this. You’re one of my closest friends, and it will be a shame to not invite you.

I don’t know what else to write. Maybe I should just say my wish again: please come. Somehow.

With love,

Lau

(Don’t be upset if Merula isn’t here. I couldn’t find and invite her)

[catstrophysics]

a hair away: read below:)

hi, internet! thanks to some lovely friends of mine, i’ve worked up the courage to actually acknowledge my writing on here, rather than just other places. below the cut is the fic of mine with the most hits/kudos/bookmarks, and it’s one of my favorites, to be honest. if you read it, let me know either here or on AO3; the link for this one is pasted at the very end. hope you enjoy, and i like feedback and yelling! check tags for information. 

A Hair Away

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro/Bakugou Katsuki

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

More tags in the... well, tags. Suffice it to say, fluffy. 

White clouds billowed from the bathroom, a witch’s cauldron of heady-scented soap and scalding steam. The door swung open quickly, stopping inches before slamming into the dorm room wall. Kirishima stepped out, shaking water from his hair as he finished affixing the grey towel around his waist. Without the customary gel holding his red locks in stiff spikes, it cascaded in loose curls around his ears. He grinned at Bakugou, sprawled out on the other side of the floor, stretching his shoulders out. 

“Hey, Baku-bro, thanks for letting me steal your shower!” Kirishima tumbled, the words tripping out of his mouth before he could get them in the right order. He flashed a grin to make up for it, white teeth glinting from his tanned face. 

“Tch, sure,” Bakugou muttered back, shifting his weight and switching arms. He pulled his elbow back behind his head, wincing as tight muscles groaned and protested under his skin. “You look different with your hair like that, man,” he commented as Kirishima padded on quiet feet to the bed, digging through his bag for a shirt and pants. 

“Hey, thanks!” He beamed, and hauled a black long-sleeve shirt and red pants from his bag. “You mind if I just slip these on out here? The bathroom’s almost as hot as you.” 

Bakugou blanched, then reddened, then blanched again. 

Kirishima realized his mistake fairly quickly, to his credit, and backpedaled over his words. “Er—I mean, your Quirk?” he tried, “you know, when you, um, explode… things?” Half of a grin attempted to claw its way onto his face, but retreated fairly quickly when the murderous glint in his friend’s eyes failed to fade. 

Bakugou released his arm from behind his head, shaking out his shoulders leisurely before answering Kirishima. “Thought that was a compliment, Riot,” he growled, before letting the heat die out from his eyes as the harsh glint faded. His smile resolved from savage to good-natured, and he laughed lightly. It rumbled deep in his chest, the afterburners of his false fury sputtering out in joy. “Had you for a second there, didn’t I?” 

The warm feeling in Kirishima’s chest grew, even as his skin cooled off the longer he was out of the shower. He slipped the sweatpants on under his towel, but decided against the shirt. It was easier not to bother putting it on, and he was at ease enough in the room that it didn’t make him uncomfortable. He was used to Bakugou’s eyes on him, never really judging but always observing. Something about his friend made him perpetually at ease, even after nearly saying something he definitely didn’t want the fiery boy to know. 

He was absolutely head over heels for him. 

Always had been, really, the same way that the Earth had always had the moon tagging along just behind it, less flashy and perpetually eclipsed. And yet he stood by him, threw a casual arm over his broad, tense shoulders, and when he made it back to his bed at night with barked laughter and blindingly ruby eyes still trickling through his mind, the nitroglycerin on his sleeve served as a reminder. Friends, and friends alone, despite halfway glances and searing touches and secrets shared past midnight, when Bakugou snuck up to Kirishima’s dorm room to talk rather than study. Friends, despite everything that Kirishima’s frantic heart told him meant more. 

The tangent left him blushing, and Bakugou was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Eijirou? You in there still?” he asked, pushing blond hair from his eyes. It was his turn for the shower, after all, because he’d let Kirishima take it first. The water heater in his section of the building was on the fritz again, and he wasn’t going to leave his best friend showerless. Kirishima appreciated it more than was strictly appropriate, lavishing his friend with bone-crushing hugs. 

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “Hey, Katsuki?” 

Bakugou didn’t even glance up. “What?” 

Kirishima swallowed hard, his pride warring against his yearning heart. “Can you help brush out my hair?” He didn’t wait for Bakugou to respond before babbling on. “It gets really messy after a workout and usually I’d do it myself but the brush is back in my dorm and I don’t want to go out in the hall right now and you don’t have to if you don’t want to but I figured since—” 

“Quit it, of course, Ei. Get up on the bed, I’ll help you.” He was already standing up off the floor, back popping as he moved. 

The bed was almost identical to every single other dorm room bed, except for the fact that Bakugou had a mountain of blankets. Kirishima had asked him about them, once, when the sun was creeping up in the sky and they were laying on the floor together, talking about nothing and enjoying the silence. Bakugou’s eyes had been fixed on the ceiling, tracing over cracks and dents from years of students, and Kirishima’s eyes had been fixed on Bakugou. 

The blankets hadn’t been a real conversation topic, but when Bakugou mentioned he was getting cold and Kirishima had to restrain himself from offering to cuddle for warmth and instead pulled a nondescript black and white blanket off the bed, he had sighed. 

Each blanket, the blond had rasped into the still pre-dawn air, was from someone he cared about. Friends, family, people he’d never see again, people he saw every day. The one Kirishima had pulled down was from his mother, given to him the day he got into UA. 

So as Kirishima settled himself on the bed, he pulled a green and white blanket around his shoulders. From his father, he recalled. Bakugou hauled himself onto the bed behind him, and straddled his legs wide around his waist. 

“What exactly do you want me to, er, do?” he asked, first sign of awkward uncertainty creeping its way into his voice as it pitched up half an octave. 

“Anything with your hands, I guess,” Kirishima replied, feeling the heat radiating off of his skin even as he sat inches away. “It’s just something I like.” Rather than respond, Bakugou plunged his hands into thick crimson hair, scratching fingernails across his scalp and sending shivers down his spine. Hurtling in headfirst, as always. 

“Your hair is so soft after you wash it.” 

Kirishima flinched. He had been at peace, almost dozing as the other boy gently tugged snarls from his hair, and his comment had sent icy water trickled down his nerves. A chuckle tried to force its way from his throat, tearing into the sides of his mouth as it just wouldn’t come out. He settled for running his own hand through his hair, painstakingly avoiding where Bakugou’s were rubbing circles just behind his ears. He didn’t respond. The air between them jumped by a hundred degrees, and Kirishima felt the pure glowing heat emanating from Bakugou grow closer to his back. Hands pulled themselves from his hair and settled on his waist instead, pressing the green blanket into his ribs. 

“Eijirou.” 

Feeling rather than seeing, eyes cemented shut out of fear and confusion and desperation, one hand began to track its way up his side. It left a searing brand in its wake, and Kirishima felt that if he had been able to see the skin on his back there would be a handprint burned in. When the hand reached the base of his hair it tugged, just once. Twice. 

And then he was falling gently backwards as Bakugou turned his head to capture his mouth in a kiss. 

The shock wore off almost immediately in the sweet, peppery taste of his skin, in the way his hands both came back up to his hair and carded through it roughly. It was such a wonderful contrast to the gentleness with which he played Kirishima’s lips that it couldn’t have been more perfect in a dream. One hand scratched gently at his hairline as the other controlled him, manipulating his head to his will so he could slowly devour his mouth. 

The silence between them crackled in the early evening sun slanting through the window, casting golden light across their barely-moving forms. It turned Bakugou’s hair to molten gold and Kirishima’s to magma, and as they broke apart, gently, they smiled. Bakugou gave him one last quick peck just below his cheekbone before pulling back and breathing deeply. His shaking hands were still in his hair, wrapped in shoulder-length red strands, but he disentangled one, pulling the prey from the spider’s web as the spider simply watched on. The hand instead sought out Kirishima’s own. 

“Thanks, Ei,” he said, softly, eyes gleaming like never before. They burned a fervent red, so unlike the rage or humor easily found in their depths, and his heart bubbled to the surface in their depths. Uncertainty flashed in chords across them, and vulnerability seethed just below the surface, a riptide threatening to pull his emotions back in and far, far away. 

Kirishima felt a hand brush his own, and he curled his fingers around it. “How long, Katsuki?” he choked out, crimson eyes locked on Bakugou’s ruby. The sun glinted gold through the window. 

“As long as I’ve known you, Eijirou, and for as long as the moon still orbits the Earth.” Soft, honest words, and the menace of his open eyes laying desperation flat out on the covers between them. 

He grinned widely at that, at the implication of <i>forever</i>, and said nothing but, “Me, too.” 

Bakugou closed his eyes and relaxed, finally, squeezing Kirishima’s hand like a lifeline. 

They pulled more blankets from the collection around them, waiting for the sun to dip below the trees as they did the same as they had for countless nights before, talking and laughing and telling stories. But now, they had one hand each clasped together and Bakugou ran a hand through Kirishima’s hair as the sky faded from Bakugou’s shade of red to the burnt hue in Kirishima’s eyes, then into the deep, velvety blue of a peaceful, dreamless night. 

And when dawn came, and the pale morning sun cast its barely-conscious rays onto the two boys lying side-by-side, it found Kirishima with his hands twined in Bakugou’s hair. Just as soft as he’d expected. 

[red-butler]

Sapphic Sutcliff - Death

The manor was always so quiet when the Young Master was away in London. Not that there weren’t plenty of day to day disasters for the servants to keep on top of, but somehow things went so much easier when you didn’t have to worry about getting Sebastian’s disappointed look the moment you fell over and dropped yet another stack of beautiful plates or cups. With them both gone, Mey Rin could manage to relax and slow down, do things more carefully and therefore there were fewer disasters. The downside of course was that Sebastian wasn’t there to see them all working so well. Bard never tried really fancy cooking without Sebastian there to show off to, and he wasn’t actually that bad at simple things like breads and stews and porridge. Finny probably did less actual work than usual, but he also did less damage than usual, just spending his time wandering the estates and enjoying the good weather.

So all three servants were in a good mood as they saw the Master’s carriage pulling up to the manor again. It was earlier than they’d expected him back, Tanaka had implied that the Season could go on for a few weeks more depending on the weather and what the aristocrats were feeling like this year, and besides, the young Master had plenty of business aspects to get to in the city so no one had been expected him back for a month or so at least.

Quickly lining up in front of the manor, smiles bright and cheerful greetings flying as Sebastian pulled the coach up and jumped down smartly to assist his Master out of the coach. It was a celebratory feeling that was quickly quashed as they got a good look at the young Earl’s face. Ciel looked so much older than his twelve years, worn and tired and thin, as though he’d seen horrors, and knew that he was never going to stop seeing horrors and losing things, no matter how hard he fought, the world would always be unfair and heartless and punish him for every choice he tried to make. Mey Rin felt her heart sink down to her boots, he hadn’t looked like that since she’d first come here, back when he’d been so blank eyed and cold that she had almost wondered if he was actually human. What could possibly have happened in London to make him retreat to that again?

Bardroy, Finny and her exchanged glances as Ciel listlessly accepted their greetings and went indoors with Sebastian, probably to hole himself up in his study and work until he fell asleep, as he’d done a lot when he’d first been setting up his company. The servants retreated back to the kitchen, to discuss what might have happened and how they could help fix it, none of them were in the mood to try anything big though, not without knowing if it would make things worse.

Eventually Sebastian came back down, and they swarmed around him in concern as he set about making something complicated and sweet for the Earl. And that was a warning sign too really, usually Sebastian would be half forcing the Earl into eating a proper dinner, reminding him that desserts were not to be eaten at every meal and that he would rot off all his teeth; if he was simply allowing Ciel to not only have dessert for dinner, but to eat it in his study while he worked, then the Master must be in a very bad shape indeed.

Thankfully Sebastian was willing to tell them what had happened, that the Master’s investigation had gone well, and he had caught Jack the Ripper, but his Aunt had been slain in the fight to subdue the murderer. May Rin’s breath caught in horror, the beautiful Madame Red? So bright and glamorous, killed trying to protect her nephew? One of Ciel’s few living family members and she’d been ruthlessly cut down right in front to his eyes. Oh no, poor young Master! She and Bard exchanged horrified looks, and Finny was practically in tears himself, he had such a soft heart for anyone hurting.

“I trust that all of you understand this will be a difficult time for the Earl?” Sebastian was saying and they nodded fervently, even Tanaka joining in. “So to make it easier for him right now, I’m expecting all of you to be on your best behaviour, no accidents or disasters that could cause the young Master any distress. Understood?” He said with that silkily smooth threat to his voice that meant this was very important. Mey Rin barely stopped herself from saluting him, and Bard actually did, before lowering his hand sheepishly as Sebastian shot him a disdainful look and began heading out of the kitchen, holding the tray with the Master’s dinner on it easily despite the weight of it, and Mey Rin knew just how heavy those silver trays could get!

Bard swore under his breath and turned back to the stove, ready to start cleaning and Mey Rin sighed, looking towards the door and rather wanting a hug from someone. It wasn’t as though she’d known the lady that well…but she wasn’t used to having any connection at all to the people that died, the grief after a death was still strangely new to her and hurt each time. Then something else occurred to her and she gasped, running straight out of the room after Sebastian.

“Waaaaiiiiittt! Mister Sebastian!” She wailed, thudding down the hallway to where he was. He turned, one eyebrow raised questioningly just as her treacherous laces got loose again, catching under her boots and sending her flying forward an impressive distance to slam straight into him.

There was a moment of confusion and then she found herself being held up by his arm, looking up at his long suffering expression as he lay on the floor, knocked down by a flying maid, and holding the silver tray above both of their heads. Everything froze for a long moment as Mey Rin turned beet red and then Sebastian heaved a long, deeply patient sigh and pushed her upright again, standing up himself, and she would have been amazed at how he somehow managed to keep the tray level and secure through all this if she hadn’t been so busy wishing the ground would open up and eat her or something. Why did this always happen around him?

“Yes, Mey Rin?” He said, the tone so put upon and tired that she felt even worse, but the beautiful dark eyes fixed upon her, that stunning face and the memory of how it felt to be pressed up against his chest again all serving to make her dissolve into a puddle of goo on the floor. But then the remembrance of what she’d meant to come out to ask him hit her like a bucket of icy water and she got herself back under control again, blinking up at him.

“Um…well…I just wanted to, um…”

“Some time today, if you would.”

“I was just wondering what was goin’ to happen to Grell Sutcliff now?” She squeaked out. “If ‘is mistress is gone now?” Her mistress technically, but Sebastian had never really had any time for the clumsy but sweet butler Mey Rin loved so dearly, and now probably wasn’t the time to push. “Because they could come here right? As a…a…footman or somethin’ of course!” She added quickly, as though Grell, amazing and wonderful as she might be, would ever be able to be a butler to rival Sebastian.

“Mey Rin…”

“An’ I know he was a fair bit o’trouble last time and all, but he does care, and he could help an’ he could look after everything-“

“Mey Rin.”

“Because he already knows about the young Lord bein’, um, the Watchdog so’s it would be alright for him to-“

“Mey Rin!” He snapped at last and she fell silently, feeling her heart squeezing in her chest. Surely he wouldn’t just say no, she knew he hadn’t liked Grell much, but Ciel might appreciate the last link to his aunt and it would be better to have more servants who knew the truth around right? Besides, Grell was trainable, more so than the other servants to be honest, and she really did try hard.

“Sir?”

“Grell Sutcliff was killed along with Lady Burnett.” Sebastian said shortly, and then turned and walked away as though he hadn’t just torn Mey Rin’s heart out of her chest and shredded it to pieces.

“Killed?” She repeated numbly at his retreating back. Grell had died there? Protecting her mistress, and maybe Ciel and Sebastian as well? But…Grell had said they were a Grim Reaper, surely that made her immortal? She was something supernatural, with fiery red hair and wicked sharp teeth when she chose to show them, and soft green eyes that Mey Rin had practically been able to drown in and long hands that could hold you close and safe and comfort you after the world had fallen apart. Mey Rin swallowed and wrapped her own arms around herself, a sad imitation of the hug she suddenly felt as if she badly needed.

Sebastian wouldn’t lie, and he didn’t make mistakes. Mey Rin had never actually asked if Grell was immortal…she’d just assumed. A stupid thing to do, she’d never expected…this blow had just come out of nowhere, had carved out Mey Rin’s heart and lungs, leaving her suddenly hollow and empty and cold. Those soft smiles, wiped away forever? That gentle laugh, the occasional sly slips of sarcasm and humour, silenced? That warm beating pulse beneath her skin stilled and cold?

She drew in a choked breath, her eyes horribly dry even as her lungs gasped and her breathing hitched. Grell… Grell had cared for her, and Mey Rin had loved her, loved her with a strength that took her by surprise. Why had she died? What monster could have taken her down, why had she fought instead of running? Mey Rin almost followed back again after Sebastian to ask, to find out everything that had happened and led to Grell Sutcliff, her love, lying dead and still and lost; but then the idea of hearing Sebastian’s cold clinical voice describing somebody murdering the woman Mey Rin had loved, had loved so very very much, she didn’t think she could bear that. So instead she bit her lip until it hurt, until the pain reminded her that she was still here and alive, even if one of the biggest reasons for continuing that life had just been wiped away.

Arms still wrapped tightly around herself she turned, making her unsteady way back towards the kitchen, she needed to be with people, she felt if she were left alone right now, the horror and pain and grief might just rip through her and leave her useless and hurt and helpless herself.

Grell was gone. The person who’d stopped, who’d noticed Mey Rin, called her beautiful and amazing, who had smiled and laughed with her, held her when the nightmares hit, soothed her when the memories were overpowering, helped her when she was clumsy and awkward and dropped things or spilt them and ruined them. She was gone, lost forever and Mey Rin hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye, hadn’t known that the woman she loved had been taken from her, hadn’t been able to protect Grell, not even with all the talents she had, she’d been away and useless and had let Grell down, let her down so badly…

She pushed open the kitchen door and practically ran over to where Bard turned, honest concern on his face as he saw her expression. He caught her automatically in a hug, anxiously asking what was wrong as she buried her face in the comforting reassurance of his chest, breathing in the smell of ash and smoke and bread that followed him around. She managed to gasp out Grell’s name as the tears began to pour, sobs shaking through her. Finny was suddenly there too, holding her securely between the two of them as she cried over her loss and sobbed out her pain and despair. Bard was holding her tightly, and she didn’t need to look up to see the understanding and grief on his face too, he’d liked Grell, as much work as the other had caused, they’d been friends, and Finny was crying with her, mourning the loss of another member of their far too small family.

[cupidkihyun]

Bad Decisions Alternate Ending [Jaehyun]

Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Scenario: Your long term friend Jaehyun is in love with your best friend. You want nothing but the best for them but silently dealing with your break up from BTS singer Jeon Jungkook has been weighing on you. One drunken night and one bad decision leads to risks taken and mistakes made.

Characters: Jaehyun; Reader (You); Your Friend (Y/F/N)

Word Count: 1621

Notes: This is alternate ending where you do end up with Jaehyun. This is the last part in the series so thank you for sticking with us this far! As always feedback is greatly appreciated 

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 5.5

He thought his feelings for you had faded away. He thought he had spent so much time burying them under the sand that, because he couldn’t see them anymore, they stopped existing. He went on with his life and the feelings that once plagued him were no longer at the forefront of his mind whenever he looked at you. When your soft hands touched his skin his body stopped responding. He started to look at you like you were just another friend. But under all that sand, and dirt, and lies he forced himself to believe, they were still there.

He wished that he could say that it shouldn’t have happened. He wished he could say that if he could go back in time he’d stop himself from kissing you that night. But he can’t. He felt guilty for what happened, but he’s glad he did it. Because for the rest of his life he can think back to that moment when your hands clung to him with everything you had, when your mouth moved against his with such urgency, when you wanted him as much as he wanted you, even if it only lasted a few seconds.

“Y/N…” He croaked out but you immediately cut him off.

“We’re not doing this.” You snapped, “We’re not talking about this. You go be happy with Y/F/N and I’ll move on with my life.”

He nodded his head and he pressed the gas once the light turned green. He pulled up in front of your apartment and you let yourself out of his car.

“You better take care of her Jae.” You warned.

He only smiled at you as he watched you close the door to his car and walk up the steps to your door.

‘Run after her!’

His brain screamed at him to move, to run up the stairs and take you into his arms, but he remained still, only waving a goodbye when you turned back to look at him one last time before disappearing behind the closed door.

He pressed the gas and started the drive back to his dorm, back to where Y/F/N was patiently waiting for his return. She loved him so much. He could see the shine in her soft eyes when she looked at him, the flush of her cheeks when he touched her. But he couldn’t look at her the same way, he didn’t feel the feelings she felt, at least not towards her. His attention was always directed at you. Everything he ever did was for you whether he knew it or not.

‘What are you doing?! Turn around! Go after her!’

He felt like shit. He was so desperately in love with you, yet here he was, driving back to his dorm, back to his new girlfriend like nothing was different. He wanted you with every fiber of his being, but he told Y/F/N that he loved her.

Jaehyun let silent tears roll down his cheeks. He tried to keep the sobs that rocked his body under control and his eyes fixed to the road, but the tears clouded his vision. He quickly pulled off the road and stopped the car before he hurt himself or anyone else.

Jaehyun wasn’t the type to fall for his friends. He’d had plenty of female friends in his life but no matter how beautiful they were he just was never attracted to them. Once he considered someone a friend they stayed just that in his eyes. When he fell for you, you didn’t even know he existed. He was just one simple SM trainee in a crowd among many. Just another face you would pass over in the halls and immediately forget.

He was going to ask you out. He didn’t know when he would work up the courage to actually do it, but he decided he would, but then the news broke that you were dating Jungkook.

Jaehyun decided he was okay with just being your friend. He didn’t have to date you, you didn’t have to love him, he just wanted to be in your life, to mean something to you. His heart ached whenever he saw the way your eyes would light up at the sight of Jungkook, but it was a pain he had grown accustomed too. It was a pain he forced himself to accept because he wanted to stay in your life. So, he swallowed his feelings and locked them away deep inside himself.

“Fuck.”

He pulled back onto the road and whipped his car in a U-turn, speeding back down the road. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He told himself he could just live with the memories of you, with the memories of that night, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want some memory of you on replay in his head like a broken record as he lies awake in bed at night, he wanted you. He didn’t want to tell someone else ‘I love you’ when he could be saying it to you. He didn’t want to wake up to someone else’s face sleeping beside him, when it could have been you. He didn’t want to live with these ‘what ifs’ in his head for the rest of his life. Even if you rejected him, even if you told him you never wanted to see him again, he wouldn’t live a life of regret.

Jaehyun’s car came to a screeching halt in front of your apartment. He quickly unbuckled himself and dashed up the steps of your apartment, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. He felt like at any moment it would burst.

He pressed the bell, then again and again and again, so many times he lost count until he heard your voice shout from behind the door that you were coming. His tried to calm his breathing, but his heart continued to race with anticipation.

The door unlocked and his eyes immediately attached themselves to your face. Evidence that you had been crying was clear in your red, puffy eyes that refused to meet his.

“What do you want Jaehyun?” Your voice was hoarse and you coughed once to clear it.

“I love you.” He said without hesitation.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his and you saw the conviction in them, no anxiety, no regret for having said that, just truth.

“Y/N, I love you. I really mean it.” He stepped closer and you shook your head in disbelief, placing your hands on his chest as if to push him away and keep him at a distance.

He took your hands off his chest and held them in his hands, his thumbs ran gently against your knuckles, “I can’t lie to myself and I can’t lie to you or Y/F/N anymore. I can’t string her along and pretend that I love her when I’m always looking at you, when I’m always thinking about you. I want you Y/N. It’s always been you, no one else”

Before you even were aware of it, you pulled him into your arms, fervently crashing your lips against his. He held you in his arms so tightly, like if he were to loosen his grip you would disappear and this moment would go with you.

“I love you, I love you.” You whispered against his lips breathlessly between kisses. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks. Both your mouths moved together so passionately it was as if it was the first time you had ever kissed each other. His hands cupped your face and his thumbs wiped the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

“Oh, thank god.” He laughed as he placed one last quick kiss against your lips before he pulled back to look at you.

You used your sleeves to wipe the tears that just didn’t seem to stop. There were burning questions sitting at the bottom of your stomach but you didn’t have the heart to voice them just yet, but with one look at you Jaehyun knew what you were thinking.

“We’ll tell her together.”

You nodded slowly and he placed a soft kiss against your forehead before leading you back to his car. He made sure you were buckled in before starting the engine and pulling off.

As he drove back to his apartment, he held your hand the whole way there, your fingers interlocked with his. He didn’t know how Y/F/N would take it. He knew that somewhere down there, Y/F/N was always aware that it wasn’t her he wanted, that it was never her that held his attention, but she never wanted to admit that to herself. He didn’t know what would happen after you both told her, he didn’t know what would become of all of their friendships, but he knew he’d have you by his side through it all.

He stole a quick glance of your smiling face and he knew that this sight was enough for him.  

He thought that night was just a huge mistake, a really bad decision brought on by pent up feelings and a little liquor. But if it never happened, he probably would have lived the rest of his life keeping those feelings bottled up, watching you from a distance as you lived your life and settled down with someone else, wishing that it was him. He would have married Y/F/N and lived a life filled with regret and what if’s.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

Unconsciously, his grip on your hand had grown tighter the more he thought about you slipping away.

“Sorry it’s nothing it’s just…I’m glad you love me.”

You chuckled at his words as you softly pressed your lips against the back of his hand, “I’m glad you love me.”

-admin punpun