#but now after secret life scar has made his peace with being alone and found strength in it

[chemdisaster]

actually fuck it. i want joel to have a season where he's in his loner arc again and no one wants to talk to him. i want to see the comedown from the high. gaining allies, learning what it means to not be totally alone, only to end up right back where he started. wondering, not for the first time, if his foolish hope and the game he makes of a world in which everything is ultimately destined to burn were ever worth it.

joel knows what it's like to find friendship after an eternity of solitude. now i want him to know what it's like to lose it and return to the same solitude, the cold mountain and the house atop a flowered hill once more.

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Scar Tissue

🩸Previous Parts Here🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, cursing, past abuse, post child birth mess, mentioned weapons, threats, allusions to murder, getting outed, cleaning up bodies, backstabbing, secrets revealed, family talks, loving moment, past attacks, past coma, past near death experience, staking claim, slight cliffhanger, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: mature

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Hours later Colson was settled in his bed again with a towel between his legs and his infant on his chest. He was exhausted and still hurting and had tried for a small nap but he knew he wouldn't be able to without finding out everything his father figure had to say. He couldn't even look at his mother though he'd let her see Punk for a few minutes. He wouldn't be a dick but it was hard to get over knowing she'd lied to him for years. He hated dishonesty more than almost anything else. Loyalty above all, he'd shot other people for less. 

Everything had been taken care of, the feds had backed off after Travis spoke to them. He was pissed because he'd been outed to them but he understood there wasn't an easier way out. With them knowing he was a mated pregnant omega and an Alpha had come for him they couldn't prosecute either him or Dom for what they'd done. It was old laws that he knew were bullshit that made him not much more than property but since Travis had technically been his previous Alpha and he condemned her, they had to listen and leave them alone. The feds hadn't even made it inside their home so Dom was safe from being found out and the news had run with the ‘mad bomber goes after PR boss for firing her'. She got what she wanted after all… Megan was definitely getting famous post mortem. They even flashed her picture laying dead on the floor. It gave him a little happy every time. 

They'd let their cleaning crew inside to clean up all the bodies but to the news there were only a few dead- his driver and a few workers from the hotel that had tried to fight back early on. She'd lied to him about that and he shouldn't be surprised but it still upset him. He was getting more and more tired of giving her any power over him. The populace believed she had acted alone, that she'd snuck around and set the bombs and held Col at gunpoint. Dom and Blain weren't praised as the heroes they were besides their help taking her out at the end. 

It was verging on daylight hours in that strange space between night and day. Everything should have been silent and peaceful. That was normally the time he woke up to start his day but instead it was the moment his entire life changed. His phone alerted him at the same moment Tom and Dom ran into the room. They'd been trying to get everything clean and settled but now their faces were terrified. “Don't.” His lover whispered as he picked up and unlocked his phone before the Alpha rushed over and tried to take it from him. “Please?” His voice went soft but Colson couldn't stop himself. He had to see what had them so fucking full of fear. 

The alert was a Google link with his name in the title, he'd been getting those all fucking night. This one was different though because it had a word the others hadn't, it read ‘Has An Omega Been Boss This Whole Time? Colson Baker Says Yes’. He didn't actually, he hadn't said anything to anyone but he swallowed hard and opened the link. The article had a picture of them from inside the lobby earlier that day. He was obviously showing and mid-labor and his heart raced in his chest. He was crouched on the floor with Dom in front of him and the body of their attacker close by. Had someone from the hotel taken it while The Doctor rushed them out? Had someone snuck close to the doors and taken it? What the fuck was happening?

It had his life laid out in black and white from the time he took over the family business from Travis. It had pictures of him with random girls, him in the VIP section of his club, and his glamor shots his mother had convinced him to get for their cover business. How did they know so much? Why was this happening? Why couldn't he go back to the time before all this when they were calm and life was mostly happy? Why did Megan get to destroy his life from beyond the grave? 

Dom worried for his lover more than he had throughout their pregnancy. Carrying a baby was one thing, his mate was a boss at it all, but being outed to the public when he couldn't control the narrative? This was all he'd never wanted. He watched as the older man locked his phone and calmly set it aside, his hands going back to rest over their son. Col stared off in the distance for a few moments before he cleared his throat and looked up to him. “Will you get Travis for me? I think it's time we talked.” 

Dom chewed his cheek and lingered, nodding for his brother to take care of it. He took a seat next to his partner and fought himself on reaching out. He hadn't touched either of them since he got them settled in bed. He was scared to interrupt their bonding. Besides the few milliseconds he held his son to lay him on Colson's chest he hadn't gotten time with him but that was fine. He had shite to do to take care of everyone. “Sure you ready?” He asked, he didn't want to press about the article. Kells would figure it out in his own time and talk to him when he was ready. 

“Fuck no. But it hurts knowing he's here and not here, ya know?” The omega sniffled but no, Dom didn't understand. Not really. Before meeting him his only real family left was Tom. He knew Travis was important to his mate though. “You've been busy.” He sighed finally, changing the subject while he could. Dom was a wreck and looked exhausted. He was going on four or five days of no real sleep. Everything felt slightly awkward and he didn't know why. They should be closer than ever, right?

“Don't want nuffin to bother you two. Ever. Jus' tryna take care of everyfing before I rest.” He answered truthfully. It was driving him mental that he'd already failed his family. He hadn't been there to protect them when they most needed it. 

“You still want this right? Like… are you that fucked up that he's an Alpha?” Col tried to laugh it off but he was genuinely nervous. He couldn't handle it if Dom didn't love them anymore. 

It broke something in the Alpha that he could even ask that. “I was scared you didn't want me no more cause I fucked up and weren't ‘ere.” 

“Hey dumbass, come up here?” The omega huffed, patting his lover's spot in bed. Dom smiled and crawled up next to him, laying close and resting his arm on the man's chest, his fingers gently petting over their son's skin. They'd gotten him in diaper but nothing more, The Doc suggested skin to skin contact after the traumatic birth. It would do them both good and that's why no one was asking to hold him yet. Not until Col offered. “I love you. You didn't fail me. Shit you did the opposite. You figured out something super fucked up and forced them to tell me. Who knows how long I'd be left in the damn dark. And you came for us at just the right time. I don't need help killing, never have. But I couldn't have done the rest without you. So don't bullshit yourself, you're our hero.” 

“So I am Batman?” Dom mumbled against Colson's inked skin where he rested his face on his shoulder. It made the man laugh then groan. Oops. He couldn't help but smirk, Doc had said he'd change his mind but the killer hadn't believed it. He knew he wasn't a hero like Kells was. 

“Maybe so. Look at him. Little fucking potato. I'm not crazy, right? He's gorgeous.” Dom chuckled at his lover's words but had to agree as he looked over their boy. He could see his own nose and mouth but Col was there too in the shape of his eyes and his sandy colored hair. 

“Bloody perfect if ya ask me.” 

“We should have another before too long. I don't want him growing up without someone close to his age. Blain will be awesome with him but he needs an equal. Don't you think? Besides, our genes obviously make elite babies. It'd be rude not to make more.” 

“Aye. Can't skimp on our duty to the world.” Dom laughed, kissing his partner's cheek. He wouldn't remind him yet that he'd refused to have more children or even let the Alpha anywhere near his cunt. Later, when Kells felt better and if he still meant it. Then he would tease the man to no end. 

“I gotta agree with both of you. I was told you asked for me?” A new voice sounded from their door and they both went stiff. 

Colson looked up at the man he'd missed so badly for years and he felt a strange mix of his heart breaking and healing at the same moment. He loved Travis but he couldn't fathom what had happened. The older Alpha leaned heavily on a cane and looked so different from what Col remembered. Where he was strong and imposing before he was slim and obviously pained now. The omega tilted his head to the foot of their bed and the other smiled and walked closer slowly. When he finally took a seat the man sighed deep. 

“What happened?” Kells asked softly. He couldn't pussyfoot around, he had to know. “No bullshit. No excuses. This family is mine now and I will kick your ass to the curb if I need to. Looks like someone's already tried.” He huffed. He wasn't surprised Tim punched him a few times. 

“Yeah. I hate how upset he is. He told me you never even realized we were together. Collette should have told you when you met Dom if not before. And she should have been fucking honest with all of you this whole time. She said she wanted to protect me but… I don't fucking get it.” Travis started to explain but Col just gave him a look that said ‘go on’. 

“The night I was attacked…” He paused and shuddered. He was fighting PTSD because to him it was all fresh. Years had passed for his family but not for him. “I wanted to call you the second I woke up but I couldn't talk. I couldn't fucking move. Your mom said she kept me a secret because she worried Megan would come after me again. I don't know why she thought she couldn't tell you. I swear I never wanted it like this.” 

“Woke up?” Colson couldn't process everything but that part stuck out to him. He didn't want to lay all the blame on his mother but he feared it was on her. 

“Megan shot me. Beat the fuck out of me with a bat first. Full fucking Harley Quinn shit. She said if she couldn't have me, no one could. I don't know what the hell was wrong with her. I should have noticed the signs beforehand.” He shrugged. He blamed a lot of it on himself because he let her into his family. She was a snake and had always been. “I’ve been in a coma for years I guess. Woke up a while ago and I've been trying to get back my strength. When Dom found us today that's when I realized you didn't know shit. I thought your mom was just waiting to tell everyone I woke up but I figured you at least knew I was alive. She told us everything together and I… I'm still pissed. I'll forgive her and you should too, but I understand why you're upset with us.” 

Colson scoffed hard enough it woke his son and the little one opened his still crimson eyes. It reminded him of what his partner had said before. “How did you know he was an Alpha before we could see his eyes?” He knew he had much more pressing concerns but that had been confusing him. “Like I get you can tell he's not an omega but… He could be a beta.” He couldn't, even so small he radiated that energy his father did but the possibility had been there. 

Dom rolled his lip between his teeth and almost blushed. It wasn't shame but it was still weird to explain something he'd noticed on himself as a kid. “Skin looks different where ‘is knot’ll be. I remembered it.” It was so miniscule that others might not notice but he'd paid a lot of attention to his own body as a boy. After what happened with his doctor he thought he was made wrong and he kept glaring down at himself and hating his dick. It was something he was working through with his omega every day and he wouldn't wish the pain on his worst enemy. He wouldn't stand for his son growing up like that too, their baby Alpha would only ever love every inch of himself. 

Col could tell the memory was a bad one but weren't all their childhood thoughts? He gently pushed himself up on his elbows, clenching his thighs to keep the towel close. He hated it but it was better than a pad and he knew there was still a mess inside him. “Here, can you take him for a minute? I'm getting warm.” He half white lied to his partner as he passed their son to his hold. 

“Bloody ‘ell alright.” Dom mumbled nervously when Kells handed him their boy before he was ready. The moment their gazes met he felt starstruck. How could something so small take up so much space? It didn't make scientific sense. “‘Ello. Nice to meet yas again.” Dom cooed, barely noticing his mate's laugh. It was only polite to introduce himself, Tom had taught him that about being human. “I'm ya dad.” He whispered and when the baby's face scrunched he chuckled. “Yeah, sorry about tha' but wha’ can ya do? Ya mum chose me. Ya stuck.”  Distantly he noticed his lover taking a picture of them but he didn't care. All he could focus on was the little boy in his hold. He thought it would feel like when his little sisters came home but it was completely different. Like a little part of him had been missing that was now sliding into place. 

“I'm glad you're letting yourself have this. I was always scared you wouldn't. I'm sorry if I fucked you up by letting you think Alphas were somehow better. You deserved better than that.” Travis sighed. 

“I did. But I have it now. I have a mate who shows me how strong I am and lets me lead, and I have two boys who need to see how badass an omega can be. You didn't fuck me up, not really. I was already broken. You just weren't what I needed to heal. No offense.” Kells felt badly for seemingly attacking the man he loved as a father but he wasn't meaning to. It wasn't said in a way to harm him, it was just the truth. “I wasn't ready to see. You let me hide and let me protect myself. That's what I needed after everything. You couldn't have changed my view on myself. I don't blame you.” 

“Don't blame your mom. At least… don't hold a grudge forever. She was terrified. She loves you more than anything and I know she wants to be here for you. She's been gushing about your mate and baby this whole time. I think we both know Megan was a sneaky bitch. Who knows what she would have done. Hell, she almost found me when she broke into the hospital. Your mom had me in a locked ward in the basement but she had to move me. I hoped she was bringing me home but… Just keep in mind she was scared. I keep trying to think what I'd do if the roles were reversed. What would you do if it were Dom?” Colson didn't remember the man talking this much before but he supposed being silent for years had an effect on the mind. Poor guy, he couldn't even imagine losing so much time.

Kells looked to his lover and their son. What would he do if Dom was in a coma? Would he tell Blain and Punk the truth or let them think he was dead. “Did they think there was any chance you'd wake up?” He asked. His heart hurt too much trying to imagine. 

Travis shook his head and almost laughed. “Basically zero chance. At least from what The Doc told me. ‘Your whole fucking family is filled with miracles’ I think were her words. Collette was just hanging on to any hope she could. Maybe it's better she didn't tell Tim. They should have both moved on.” 

“Pfft. Tim hasn't either. He's still in love with you. I don't think he's dated once. Maybe I didn't know about your kinky threeway shit- not judging, but I could see that when he talked about you. They're both your mates. Fuck was Doc talking about?” Colson asked, his brow arching at the thought. Family of miracles? 

Travis's ice blue eyes went wide before he looked almost nervous and rubbed his head. “I figured she told you. Shit. I guess she just gossiped to me because she thought I wouldn't get my speech back or something. Um… so I guess with all those blockers and the hormone replacement Dom shouldn't have been able to scent you let alone actually get you in heat.” The man flushed. They may not be blood related but that was his son. He didn't want to think about that shit. “She's been studying your labs and stuff. I guess she thinks she can find scientific evidence of True Mates with you two. She didn't think you'd ever be able to have a heat or a kid I guess.” 

The couple shared a shocked look and Col felt himself full of rage. He was damn tired of everyone hiding shit from him. “Not now luv, I need you to rest. Maybe it's a bloody miracle but you did jus’ ‘ave me baby. We'll keep proving ‘er wrong and make more and you can rake boff ‘er and ya mum over the coals but not yet. Please?” 

Kells had to give in when his Alpha gave him his patent pout, normally it was partially fake but he could feel the emotion behind it now. Besides that, their little boy matched it completely and he knew he'd never win anything with the both of them looking like that. “No fucking fair. But… fine. I'm resting. You let them know they're in deep shit though.” He grumbled to his dad though he didn't really mean it. He was upset but his priorities were shifting. 

“Of course. Am I still?” The man asked nervously and Col had to think. 

“No. Not really. You didn't hide shit but I can't say it won't be awkward for a while. Especially if you want the business back.” That was his real fear, especially since he'd been outed to the world. He loved being the boss but could he still keep the title?

“I'm retired. Besides, the world needs to see an omega in control. And who fucking better to lead a revolution than you?” Travis asked completely seriously. “I'm proud of you. I always have been. I hope you know that.” 

Colson refused to break and cry again but he nodded and took the man's hand when he reached out. He couldn't move to hug him so it had to be enough. But Dom added one last thing. “Would you like to ‘old ‘im?” 

“Shit yeah. Please?” The Alpha laid his cane on the bed and took the baby gently. It was wild to him to see the two boys so perfectly combined and even though he loved his son it hurt his heart that he'd never had his own. “Hey kiddo. You got a good head start in life alright? The most badass mom and Batman for a dad. But I'm here too if you ever need me. Grandma doesn't wanna take that title but you can call me Gramps. I'm cool with it.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to the little one's forehead. 

“Batman is not a fucking thing.” Col grumbled but he smiled at his mate and pulled him closer to his side. Not everything was perfect and so much of his life was up in the fucking air but his son was here and he had his father back. Dom and he were free to be themselves even if the thought terrified him. He was outed as an omega but still boss. Megan couldn't bother them anymore and his biggest enemy gang was wiped out. All in all it had been a damn good day. Soon Travis would leave them to their rest and his mate would hold him and their boy together. Maybe he would finally let his psycho bitch clean him up with his tongue. Would Dom still whisper to their son as Col fell asleep? He couldn't wait to see. There was a lot he didn't know but for the first time possibly ever he was excited to find out. Their lives had never been perfect but they were feeling pretty damn close. Who knew a sociopathic Alpha and a self centered boss bitch omega could make it work so well? After all, they were just devils in LA’s underworld trying to live their lives. It was luck they found their True Mate along the way. Though neither really believed in fairy tales like that.

Luck and someone who hired the hitman to off the boss, a secret someone they'd never figured out. But what did that matter? They could face anything together as a family. Couldn't they? If a self hating Alpha could fall in love with an omega faking as what he despised most, then anything was possible. Like The Doctor said, those devils might just be a miracle. 

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 🖤

Eeeeek! 🥳 I can't believe I finished another fic! It's over 100,000 words and I'm honestly really proud of myself! (Which is so weird to say for me because I've never really allowed myself pride) But thank you all so much for joining me on this dark and twisted love story of a ride! I already have part two started but this will also cap off my 200th link on my intro pinned post so I'll have to start another one 😯🤣

The next part will be more baby centric but don't worry there's definitely a lot of plot planned already! Who hired Dom to go after Colson? And where did Blain actually come from? How will the public handle an omega in control of a crime syndicate? All this and more to come soon! Thank you all so much for following and thank you 🐈‍⬛ for all your help, I don't think I could keep going so strong without you and everyone who comments. Now onto part two! 🫀🖤

[elvisqueso]

hey, mutuals who ship zutara, do you think this tristan and iseult au has any potential:

The prow of the Fire Imperial cruiser splits through the waves like a drill through soft wood.  The ocean spray mottles Katara’s dress and catches salt in her hair and on her cheeks.  Ahead of her is her destiny.  Behind her is the man delivering her to it.

Prince Zuko stands some few paces away and still as a statue with his eyes carefully forward.  He does her the courtesy of neither being directly out of her sight, nor being obnoxiously within it.  She should not still hate him: they had made peace, despite his transgressions.  He’d even vowed his loyalty to her – something about a code of honor, that he places his life in service to her own.  She doesn’t pretend to understand it.  And yet—

And yet.

“How much longer?”  She asks, as she has often done when she doesn’t want to continue her thoughts as they have been going.

“One week.  We’ll be arriving by the equinox.”  The prince’s voice is a grating rasp— as though his vocal chords had been shredded and left jagged.  The scar on his face certainly suggests the type of life which leads to common cries of pain.  On occasions when the winds are too harsh or the waves too high and she’s trying not to hate him, she will have him tell her the tales over tea and Pai Sho.

“Why me?”  She asks this often, too.  His answer is always the same:

“Destiny.”

“Who knows destiny?  The Avatar was never meant to be a diviner.”

“No.  But he asked for you.”

Katara doesn’t hate the Avatar, but she resents his presumptions.  It was her who broke him from a prison of ice all those years ago, but she hadn’t seen him since.  That the boy she remembers a single afternoon of penguin-sliding with had somehow fixed his heart on her is disquieting.

But he is the Avatar.  Perhaps it will be a good marriage anyway.

Something else must show on her face, however, because Prince Zuko asks a nearby servant to fetch some cordial wine.  She hates how well he seems to anticipate her needs.

But how can she be surprised?  This is the same man whose almost obsessive determination accomplished all that brought him to her, despite all the disadvantage and disgrace of his birth and hateful lot in life.  He is too thorough with everything, she thinks, and that, too, in the pursuit of his repentance towards her still makes her spine tighten in anger.

She breathes and makes herself let it go again.  The same servant returns with a small wine jug.  It’s folly to try and pour wine out on the deck of a ship, so they must drink it straight.

“My Lady,” the prince says, as he always does.

She says nothing in return, but takes and quaffs half the jar.  To him, she hands the other half to finish.  Between one moment and the next, they look at each other.

The world stops for both of them.

-

Katara’s Gran-Gran had given her a potion before she left to be married to the Avatar: a potion, she’d said, that would make her love him for three years (give or take some months).  It’s one of their women’s secrets, this trick to make a strange marriage less treacherous.  Three years of ease, where the potion fostered love between the couple.  After the effects die down, ideally there would be a child and the marriage could turn focus towards the raising.

One other person on the vessel knows of the potion, and that’s Suki: Katara’s sister-in-law who had volunteered to act as her lady-in-waiting during the trip.  The wine jar the potion had been stored in had been in her care.  Somehow, the servant had found it and mistook it for mere wine.

Suki scrambles onto the deck the moment Katara’s eyes catch with Prince Zuko’s, and screams when she sees the empty jar between them.

-

It’s Suki who then tearfully explains what has happened to Prince Zuko.  Katara can’t bear to look at him, let alone explain what fate they’ve fallen into together.

And even feeling the heat of his presence nearby sets her heart pounding.  The love she now has for him is painful and foreign, and yet sweet and strong.  She feels like a velvet stake has been jammed through her chest.  She wants him to hold her.  She wants to never see him again.

She can feel his eyes on her as Suki tells him of what purpose the potion had been.  She hears the awful crush of emotion in his voice when he says: “I understand.”  She can even taste the salt of unshed tears when he vows to stay away from her for the rest of the voyage and to disappear soon afterward, so as not to jeopardize her impending marriage.

She wants to die right then; it would be preferrable to being without him for even a moment.

-

They manage to stay apart for three days.

Three days she spends in her cabin or on the deck, trying desperately not to think of Zuko.  She remembers the first time she’d truly met him, not just felt the enemy specter she’d loathed, but the man on whom she’d once swore vengeance, only to have the opportunity swept out from under her by his damned noble actions.  She had tended him after he’d defeated Admiral Zhao’s mad attempt to destroy the Moon Spirit, and subsequently saved her people.

It was a poor retribution for his previous crimes, she had told herself, but one she had to accept.

She remembers all too clearly his convalescence in her home.  Him in an herbal bath with his eyes on her, wary, while she moved chi along the energy pathways of his body, soothing aches and healing injuries.  He had always been well formed and handsome, despite the scar on his face.  But he’d had the humility to accept her hatred of him then, and never treated her mercy as something to be taken for granted.

Yes, she’d hated him.  And her love for him now feels almost exactly the same.

Zuko has quarantined himself in his own quarters, and taken to slipping around the ship’s dark corners to avoid her.  The few times she’d catch a glimpse of him, his fingers would clench to whiteness and he’d grit his teeth as he turned away and retreated to somewhere else.  His honor dictates no less than the absolute preservation of her virtue.  She loves him for it.  She hates him.

She can bear it no longer.

On the third night, she enters his quarters, silent and unseen.  She finds him seated on his bed, bowed over with his head in his hands and his fingers twisted painfully tight in his hair.  It feels like her heart wants to shred itself to pieces in sight of his suffering.

As long as she lives, she’ll never forget the look in his eyes— bloodshot, wide and fearful— when she calls out his name.  She’ll never forget, too, the speed of his body, the heat of his hands, nor the bruising worship of his lips when she simply asks him: “please.”

Destiny is a funny thing.

-

For much of his life, Zuko has understood love to be the same as fear.  It makes sense that his love for Katara is the same: the fear and the love, the desire and the pain.  His uncle tried to teach him how to separate the two, once.  For a short time, he thinks he might have succeeded.  No chance now, Zuko muses, his mouth occupied with the taste of her skin and his back covered in red marks from her nails.  Loving Katara is only more proof that he’d been right all along: love is fear is pain is desire.  There can be no other explanation for just why it feels the way it does.  And guilt is the currency they transact in: when they finish he listens to her doubts, her anger and frustration over the path set out before her by foreign men.  His guilt is, at first, in being a villain in her story; now it is in failing to be a hero.  He thinks often on how he might turn, how he could so easily decide to simply not deliver her.  He knows the sea-roads well; perhaps even a determined and wrathful Avatar might fail to find them if Zuko puts his mind to hiding her away.

The possessiveness, too, is familiar.

The week passes, and they continue to give in.  Sometimes he thinks love is too small a word for what he feels for her.  Other times, he cannot describe it as anything but.  When she’s coming apart under him, eyes glazed over with pleasure and her kiss-plump lips pouring out a small symphony of sweet sounds, he feels perhaps that words are not sufficient at all.  There is only the feeling and the breath and the heat that they share.  Nothing else matters within those minutes, hours, days— each eternity they spend in each others’ embrace.

He is a man for whom sincere words are difficult; but, for her, he braves attempt to lay the his soul out naked for her audience.  And when his poor utterings succeed in bringing a smile to her beautiful face, he feels that perhaps this is what he was really born to do: his existence focused squarely on the slight chance that he could make her even a little happy.  He tells her as much once, and she kisses him and says she would never want him to see himself as something so small.

“Not even when you hated me?”  He asks.

“Not even then,” she answers.

[loveaurapearl]

Okay, now that the series is over. I want to say that there is SO much has been added. ALSO, WARNING, THERE WILL BE SPOILERS!

Okay, now with that over. Let's get onto the analysis.

First off, Scar is the reason the Bamboozlers were alive for so long. Scar's a natural survivalist so his skills kept the Bamboozlers on track and he reprimanded Jimmy when he was being stupid. He made sure his team was safe and secure and help give them ideas. He even gave advice when it came to the Totem of Undying. It's not his fault the loot table was changed on them. Scar cares about his teammates and they care about him. Scar is the guardian angel to the Bamboozlers. So when the Snails, the one thing that has been tormenting Scar all season, came back, it was a clock of doom for Scar. Scar tried so hard to be safe from the snails. To keep his eyes on the stupid snails all the time they were around. He tried so hard to be prepared for the upcoming war that was going to go down. He was going to make sure his team would survive the battle. But it was too late. Scar found himself alone, with a snail and triviabot. Scar so desperately wanted to help. To be the guiding light to his team. To be there for Grian and to help him out. He wanted Grian to say he loves him and the Bamboozlers. But it was too late. Scar never saw where his snail was as he tried to answer Triviabot and the snail kills him and takes him out the series.

Grian (Who I'll be analyzing soon in this post, just you wait) who had conflicting feelings towards Scar all Finale on whether or not to kill him with the rest of Bamboozlers or not is relieved to see Scar dead, cause it meant he didn't have to physically kill him himself this time. It's still his fault because he created the snails and he knew adding them in the finale shouldn't have been done because of how deadly they were last time and yet he did it anyway. But at least Scar didn't die at his own hands again this time. And with Scar gone, Grian doesn't hold back and kills the Bamboozlers in their own base. Never letting go of his grudge on Jimmy.

Secondly, Scar never wanted to be a bad guy, just to have love and build a rollercoaster. Sure, Scar can't change himself, he still craves chaos and death and killing, but he also wants friends and family and love and rollercoasters. His finale session of Wild Life shows both sides of Scar. Scar so wanted to kill people on his rollercoaster. He wants death and destruction and chaos. But the more and more he builds the rollercoaster, the more he wants to be friendly and happy. The more people he interacted with, the more conflicted he was. He know he should kill and destroy. He loves that, but at the same time, he just wants to build and help people. He was hoping his more tired brain would unleash Chaos Scar but all it did was made him want peace and happiness. Scar doesn't know what to feel other than he has to protect his friends and family and wishes he could just decide on a feeling. And those conflicting feelings anger the Watchers. They were angry that Scar, they're killing machine was having doubts and concern for others. I mean, Scar didn't even kill Etho when he had the chance.

So when the wildcard was activated, they were gleeful that Grian decided to focus more on getting his revenge on Jimmy than protecting Scar. Because they knew Grian couldn't actually give in and kill Scar. Grian was conflicted all episode on whether or not he should kill Scar with the rest of the Bamboozlers, so they spawned Scar's Snail in a way that Scar would have no idea where it was so they could have the privilege of killing Scar themselves. After all, if Grian won't do it, they had to, after all, Scar was never meant to make it this far. (At least in the Watcher's eyes because they're jerks. They don't want Scar, a Vex, to be close to winning. Got a headcannon that Watchers and Vex don't like each other and that's another reason the Watchers tormented Scar in Secret Life.)

Grian has had an interesting arc this season. He's becoming more and more like him like I mentioned in the earlier post. And it seemed like Scar was finally making Grian realize the error of his ways, free Grian from the Watchers... then Mumbo died and it causes Grian to spiral. He tries to keep it together with Skizz but it's only when Scar's around does he can actually relax and have fun. And when Skizz dies, Grian becomes more and more Watcher-like and uses his powers to give Cleo the power to resurrect his friends and vain attempt to stay sane. Grian also teams up with Joel and Gem to secure his safety because he wants to win and keep his sanity.

Grian yells at people for having fun and not killing each other. He's becoming greedier and greedier. But... Scar comes in and reminds Grian of fun, of laughing, of being human. Of being gay by showing Scar a 'WHOLE NEW WORLD' and blowing out the candles on Scott's Birthday cake. Grian can remember to have fun and relax around.

And then Grian does a stupid and dies by forgetting he has a time limit on his wings. The watchers remind him that they are the masters of this world, not him. So he falls to his death. He tries to kill Tango to have some control over his world again but it fails. Then Mumbo kills him and Grian loses all control and becomes a murder machine. His Watcherness is on overboard and he will treat everyone but Scar as a threat. So when Martyn does something stupid and almost kills Grian with a TNT minecart, Grian orders Scar to kill Martyn. And Scar does it, because he loves Grian that much.

Grian then spends the finale trying his best to stay alive but also be a watcher and get his revenge on Jimmy. Grian loses sight of himself and he is conflicted on if he should kill Scar or not. Because Scar is Grian's last shred of humanity. If Grian kills Scar, then he no longer has to hold back, but if doesn't kill Scar, then Scar could interfere with his plans on killing Jimmy. So when Scar dies to Snails, Grian is relieved because it means he doesn't hold back. He kills the Bamboozlers in a trap so evil that it makes Gem feel uncomfortable.

Grian then uses his powers to keep himself and his new alliance alive. And he does. Grian becomes fully a Watcher and protects the Family. But his Watcher self soon realizes that it means Joel is the new winner. Grian could sense that Joel would be winner number six so he tries his best to keep Joel alive. He even promises Joel his life. And at the end, once everyone is dead. Grian realizes that Joel doesn't have to be the winner, HE could be a winner. Why should Joel be the winner? Sure Grian promised him his life and to let Joel win, but does that mean he has to? Does he really need to follow his watcher's instincts? After all, he's just as capable as Joel and he made it this far. Grian calls himself the Wild Card so in his head its only fitting for him to win. Grian's ego flares up and he thinks that he can do this. This could be the first time there could be a double winner. HE COULD WIN WILD LIFE! So Grian betrays Joel and attacks him. Grian thinks he's already won so now all he has to do is claim his crown. But Joel isn't a quitter. He sees this betrayal and smiles and attacks back.

Joel is a fighter and is ruthless. He'll do anything to win. So when Joel comes into the trees, it's already too late. Grian is hit by Joel and falls to his death. Joel wins and Grian berates himself for 'not being good at the game'. Grian, in his ego, flies as high as he can go, higher than any other time before, but just like Icrus, falls to his death and loses the game. Meanwhile, Scar is trapped back in the Secret Life world, going crazy.

First Out (Wild Life Spoilers)

Hey guys, I'm still reeling from Wild Life's first permadeath, and it had me thinking.

Mumbo wasn't supposed to be the first out. It was meant to be Scar. The winner of Secret Life was meant to be the first to die.

What lead me to think that?

First, the Secret Keeper wanted Scar to be the villain and in my head, I don't think it was because they wanted Scar to win. Sure, in the life series, it's kill or be killed, but you need alliances to make sure you don't die first. You can't fight an army alone if your name isn't Technoblade. So by making Scar the villain and trying to make everyone hate him, the Secret keeper was trying to get him killed early. Sure, they didn't want him out first since the Canary Curse was still activated, but still they wanted him out early. But that didn't happen. Scar managed to wriggle his way through the other teams so their eyes were on other people and not him.

Now why did they want Scar to be the villain? Because he was a thorn in their side since the first session. He failed his first task and then got Grian, the guy they hate and the ruler of Life series games, to make a loophole so he could get a re-roll, messing up their order of plans and accidentally giving Scar a really easy 'HARD TASK'. (Anyway, that's my headcannon on why Scar's Hard Task was so much easier than any of the other hard tasks we saw later in the season.) Scar used Mumbo's task to bribe him so he looked the other way so Scar could easily complete his task. Scar got Bdubs killed even though he was Green and he found a loophole in their task so there would be two winners in the Chicken game. He distracted the Wither for so long that it made everyone gather up and defeat it and the Warden with the only casualties being Jimmy, Mumbo, Grian trading his life for Scar's, and an accidental death of BigB on Scar's end. Grian cheated to spare Scar's life by allowing him to log off then log back in. And Lizzie managed to break the curse on Jimmy, allowing Jimmy to not go out first. So the Watchers turned their heads to Scar, the watcher's favorite, and decided that the only way to hurt Grian was to hurt Scar. And while their plans work on making Scar the villain, it worked too well. Scar wasn't just going easy and he won. Sure, Grian helped him a bit with bringing Gem and the Scotts' health low, but it was all Scar's skills that got him the title of winner.

Wild Life was meant to be the Watcher's revenge on Scar. After all, they allowed him to be paired up with Jimmy and Lizzie. Scott said it himself that their teaming up would mean they would be out of the series the fastest. And while the Watchers hate Scott, they realize he was right. So to try and restore order, they decide to let Scar have friends and then kill him so fast that he couldn't even be allowed to enjoy it. And session 3 was when the Watchers struck. They were so close to Scar losing his final life thanks to the invisible Snail trap that Martyn used. Martyn, an agent of the Watchers who they had been using for years and who was the winner of Limited Life because of their will. Sure, it meant the Canary Curse would be broken, but they didn't care. Scar would be gone and his team would be in ruins. They were so close too. The snail almost ended Scar's series. But then Grian, who had been avoiding Scar for so long and was trying to deny his feelings towards him, stopped the world and ended the Session early before Scar could die. Grian ended the game early for Scar again, and they weren't happy.

The one guy they wanted dead was now alive all thanks to Grian. It made them extra mad because it meant Scar now had a chance to not only live but thrive. They knew that if they didn't get him with snail now, they wouldn't know when Scar would be out next. And that's what Scar did. Scar not only got back to Green by killing Etho and Grian, but he managed to help the Canary regain his lives even after Martyn accidentally killed him with Jimmy's own trap by using Grian's own trap against him. And it was all thanks to Grian.

So the Watchers were glad to hear Grian vow his revenge against Scar and Jimmy, it meant that Grian was now on their side. They were so sure the Canary Curse would continue and Scar would be dead soon. And it at first worked, Grian got Scar on Yellow due to his admin 'Watcher' powers and it seemed like things were going well. But then Scar called out Grian for cheating. For using his Admin/Watcher powers against a player and this snapped Grian out of their trance. For all of Wild life, Grian had been using his Admin/Watcher powers more and more. At first, it was harmless, he knew all the Wild Cards. It would be impossible for the game to happen if Grian did not know the Wild Cards and Grian refused to simply just watch the games like the Watchers originally planned. But then Grian began using his Admin/Watcher powers more and more. Threatening to use his powers to ban people and using his powers to have an edge over the other players. He was becoming more and more like the Watchers he hated.

But then Scar called Grian out. Scar, the only one who could get to Grian, saw what Grian was doing, saw that it was unfair to the other players, especially him, and called Grian out for cheating. And it gets to Grian. At first, Grian tries to brush it off as them just being even. After all, Scar did the first underhanded shot by shooting him off the Bridge of the Spanners' headquarters, so it was only fair that Grian got him back. But the more and more he thought about it, the more it bugged him. He tried to ignore it. Try and push it to the back of his mind, but he couldn't. And Grian realizes he made a mistake. That he abused his Watcher powers and was becoming more like them. So to try and make amends, he gives Scar the mace. But of course, it wasn't that simple. Scar didn't care that much about the mace. What he truly, truly wanted was to have Grian back. To end their fighting and to be Best Friends again. To be like Third life again.

And it brings Grian back to his humanity. It made him remember the good memories and that he doesn't have to be like the Watchers. And to hear Scar say 'What happened in Third life?', it softens Grian and they become Allies. Whether or not Scar remembers what happened in Third Life, it doesn't matter since Grian fully believes Scar doesn't remember anything about Third life except for Mr. Bubbles, Pizza and their friendship. (To be honest, I have no idea how genuine Scar was when he asked about what happened in Third Life. On one hand, he sounds like he means it. It doesn't sound like he's lying. But on the other hand, Scar is a master liar, and he remembers the Lilacs and Poppies like it was yesterday. So it's up to interpretation.)

However, Grian still wants to save Mumbo and Skizz. He still wants Jimmy dead, so there was still a chance that at least the Canary Curse could continue. Sure, Jimmy prayed to the Watchers to be spared, but the Watchers don't care, they just used his wishes to make sure Tango wasn't out first.

But... Mumbo didn't want Jimmy to die first. Mumbo wasn't a heartless fellow to a fellow struggling red life and thanks to Scar, Grian allowed Mumbo to spare his life. However, we all know what happened next. Mumbo, not checking if everything was secure, not checking if everything was safe, not seeing the warning signs that the mine was dangerous, saw Gem moving away from Jimmy and trying to get a life back activates the TNT minecart track. And... with one lever left active, Mumbo dies in a firey explosion. Grian, not looking at Mumbo, only hears an explosion as Tango's wind burst thrusting him into the air and saving his life, and is left paralyzed as he sees his friend's burnt corpse. And in the first time in forever, Grian is allowed to grieve. And the world stops and pitied Grian. Grian, who was seen as the source of all the lifer's suffering and a villain who must be slain for all of Wild Life, was pitted and was finally seen for who he was, human. Sure, Grian was close to being like the Watchers. Much closer than he ever had been before. But thanks to Grian protecting Scar in Session 3 and preventing Scar's final death, Grian was saved from himself and the Watchers. It was thanks to Scar and their friendship that saved Grian but at the cost of Mumbo's life.

Mumbo, poor Mumbo, only wanted Grian to look at him like he did to Scar. Mumbo who wanted Grian to love him like he did Scar. Mumbo who wanted Grian to save him like Scar. But it was too late. Mumbo wasn't a fighter and unfortunately, there are some things not even Watchers can protect you from. Only when it was too late, did Grian finally look at Mumbo like he did with Scar. Just like Third life...

[shadowcrowsworld]

Love of fire

Eris x reader

Summary: Y/N doesn't feel like her place is in the night Court.

!English isn't my first language!

Everyone was happy. Each one has found his place his person. Everyone but I. I was lonely, didn't know what to do. So it was my whole live and it didn't seem to change in my knew life.

I loved my sisters and the others without a doubt. But I was lonely. Being the youngest Archeron wasn't always easy, in the mortal lands I helped Freye in the woods and when she was gone and came back as a Fae, Nesta was close to kill me as I hugged Freye.

I had spend the night with her and the brothers to catch up. Clearly she looked different bit she was still my big sister. The one who teached me to hunt, the one who hugged me tide when there was thunderstorm. Never could I turn my back at her.

And over some time in Velaris even my relationship with Nesta became better when I learned how to read and fell in love with books, so connecting with my oldest sister became easy.

So why am I not happy why does it seems like I am alone in this big family that loves me .

It was hard because I didn't want to disturb the happy bubble my family lives in. The dress for the evening was lying on my bed.

Today was a big ball in the court of nightmares and the special guest was Eris and everyone made a bug deal out of it. Yes he had made bad decisions in the past but when they be honest only Elain would be maybe the only one who could have an opinion about it.

I decided to leave my hair open it was easier and I could lay it over the two scars on my face. I have got them when me and my sisters got taken by Hypern and after I fell out of the stupid caldron. Let's say my face was similar too Cassians wings in that moment.

Everytime Freya looked me in the face the first think her eyes scanned were my scars. Both starting at my right forehead and one ending above my eye and the other above my cheek. I was prout of it they showed that I didn't give up but she saw it as her error in protecting me.

I stepped in the dark green dress that fell softly around me the upper part laid on my skin and got a big skirt till the floor. My mirror showed me the person who I really was the sister that tried to please her sisters to keep there peace but broken so deep down that not even the shadowsinger could get to this secret. I needed a moment to but on the smile I performed so often that it was easy to keep it up all day without struggling.

The darkness was eating me alive when Mor winnowed me to the court of nightmares. It climbed up my legs and laid itself around my throat. Breath Y/N you are alive it is over that suptip thing doesn't even exist anymore. There is no reason to freak out.

Mor kept on talking and doesn't even noticed how I was struggling to get air into my lungs. The room was already filled with many people talking and dancing. "I will go over there don't do anything I wouldn't do." Mor pointed to a big table with wine and some females standing around it.

"As if there was that much." I laughed "Let's go girl." I smiled at her before I tried to find the best corner to hide before so many eyes. Here are so many people that aren't trust worthy that this was my best solution for now.

I found a place and very good wine to watch over the room. It was simple to see how people talked with each other without really trusting the person they where talking to. Nesta found a good solution to go around that whole thing she was dancing with her mate. Or it was Cas idea to prevent my sister from killing someone. I smiled and kept on watching them, I never saw Nest so happy and in love when she was with Cas. I was appy for them I couldn't denay it.

My eyes wandered in the room and found my other sisters standing infront of her throne next to Rhys who had a protective arm around her hips. They were talking to a man with short red hair and even that I only saw his back I knew it was Eris.

And by watching the facial expressions of my sister I knew she doesn't enjoyed the conversation she was having. By watching her I doesn't notice someone approaching me I could sense a hand nearing my shoulder and out of reflex put the arm of that person and turned his arm on his back.

I noticed the complicated hairstyle of my oldest sister and pulled back my hands. "I am so sorry Nes I didn't notice it was you." She turned around and smiled. "It's alright Y/N it's good to know that you can protect yourself."

We kept on talking until Freya and Rhys stood infront us. Freye facial expression was something I am going to kill someone or I am going down in guilt. Oh no what happend now.

"Y/N please belive me I don't want to do this to you. If I could chance it I would do it." She pulled me into a hug that could easily break my rips. "Hey, hey everything will be become okay we have always found a solution." I gently pushed her away and Rhys hand looked again around her hips. Even he had a guilt in his eyes. Maybe it wasn't that easy, it can never be that easy for us. "You..." Freya started but struggled to find the words.

"Rhys could you please help my sister." Nesta faced him she noticed aswell that something was definitely of.

"To get a better alliance with the autum court Y/N will leave for one week each moth the night court to spend the week at autum to gather with Eris for her protection."

They can't be for real. They can't decide that without even asking me. I scanned the room to find the red head and when our eyes connected and I saw his wicked smile. Oh please I can't take even more I already crumbling under my mask.

Tags:

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Part2

@judig92 ; @issybee0611 ; @percyjacksonspeen ; @positivewitch

[lorenfangor]

I heard that #40 was super homophobic :/ so I skipped it. But now your fic is making me want to give it a try. How problematic is it? Are the characters worth it?

Okay.

Okay.

Let’s talk about #40.

The plot of The Other (a Marco POV) is that Marco sees an Andalite on a video tape sent in to some Unsolved Mysteries-esque TV show, and he assumes it’s Ax and hauls ass to save him from being captured. Ax, being Ax, has videotaped the show, and they pull it up and Tobias uses his hawk eyes to figure out that it’s not Ax, it’s another Andalite - one without a tailblade. Ax is appalled at the presence of this vecol (an Andalite word for a disabled person) and we find out that he and others of his species have deep ingrained prejudices against at least some kinds of disabled people.

Despite this, Marco and Ax go looking for the Andalite in question because he’s been spotted by national TV, and they meet a second one, named Gafinilan-Estrif-Valad. The vecol is Mertil-Iscar-Elmand, a former fighter pilot with a reputation and Gafinilan’s coded-gay life partner. The two of them have been on Earth since book 1; they crashed their fighters on the planet and have been trapped there thanks to the GalaxyTree going down. Gafinilan has adopted a human cover, a physics professor, and they’ve been living in secret ever since.

Thanks to that tape, Mertil has been captured by Visser Three, and he’s not morph-capable so he can’t escape. Gafinilan wants to trade the leader of the “Andalite Bandits” to the Yeerks to get his boyfriend back; he can’t fight to free Mertil because he’s terminally ill with a genetic disorder that will eventually kill him, and (it’s implied that) the Yeerks aren’t interested in disabled hosts, even disabled Andalite ones. Despite Ax’s ableism, the Animorphs agree to work with Gafinilan and free Mertil, and they’re successful. Marco ends the book talking about how there are all kinds of prejudices you’ll have to face and boxes that people will put you in, and you can’t necessarily escape them even if they’re reductive and inaccurate, but you can still live your life with pride.

So now that I’ve explained the plot, I’m gonna come out the gate saying that I love this book. I love it wholeheartedly, I love Marco’s narration, I love Ax having to deal with Andalite society’s ableism, I love these characters, and as a disabled lesbian I don’t find these disabled gays to be inherently Bad Rep.

that’s of course just my opinion and it doesn’t overshadow other issues that people might have? but at the same time, I don’t like the seemingly-common narrative that this book is all bad all the time, and I want to offer up a different read.To that end, I’m going to go point by point through some of the criticisms and common complaints that I’ve seen across the fandom over the years.

“Mertil and Gafinilan were put on a bus after one appearance because they were gay!”

this is one I’m going to have to disagree with hardcore. I talked about this yesterday, but in Animorphs there are a lot of characters or ideas that only get introduced once or twice and then get written off or dropped - in order off the top of my head, #11 (the Amazon trip), #16 (Fenestre and his cannibalism), #17 (the oatmeal), #18 (the hint of Yeerks doing genetic experiments in the hospital basement), #24/#39/#42 (the Helmacrons’ ability to detect morphing tech), #25 (the Venber), #28 (experiments with limiting brain function through drugs), #34 (the Hork-Bajir homeworld being retaken, the Ixcila procedure), #36 (the Nartec), #41 (Jake’s Bad Future Dream), and #44 (the Aboriginal people Cassie meets in Australia) all feature things that either seem to exist just for the sake of having a particular trope explored Animorphs-style or to feature an idea for One Single Book.

This is a series that’s episodic and has a very limited overall story arc because of how children’s literature in the 90s was structured - these books are closer to The Saddle Club, Sweet Valley High, Animal Ark, or The Baby-Sitters’ Club than they are to Harry Potter or A Series of Unfortunate Events. Mertil and Gafinilan don’t get to be in more than one book because they’re not established in the main cast or the supporting cast, I don’t think that it’s solely got anything to do with their being gay.

“Gafinilan has AIDS, this is a book about AIDS, and that’s homophobic!”

Okay, this is… hard. First, yes, Gafinilan does have a terminal illness. Yes, Gafinilan is gay. No, Soola’s Disease is not AIDS.

I have two responses to this, and I’ll attack them in order of their occurrence in my thought. First, there’s coded AIDS diseases all over genre fiction, especially genre fiction from that era, because the AIDS epidemic made a massive impact on public life and fundamentally changed both how the public perceived illness and queerness and how queer people themselves experienced it. I was too young to live through it, but my dad’s college roommate was out, and my dad himself has a lot of friends who he just ceases to talk about if the conversation gets past 1986 or so - this was devastating and it got examined in art for more reasons than “gay people all have AIDS”, and I dislike the implication that the only reason it could ever appear was as a tired stereotype or a message that Being Queer Means Death. Gafinilan is kind, fond of flowers, and fond of children - he’s multifaceted, and he’s got a terminal illness. Those kinds of people really exist, and they aren’t Bad Rep.

Second off, Soola’s Disease? Really isn’t AIDS. It’s a congenital genetic illness that develops over time, cannot be transmitted, and does not carry a serious stigma the way AIDS did. Gafinilan also has access to a cure - he could become a nothlit and no longer be afflicted by it, even if it’s considered somewhat dishonorable to go nothlit to escape that way. That’s not AIDS, and in fact at no point in my read and rereads did I assume that his having a terminal illness was supposed to be a commentary on homosexuality until I found out that other people were assuming it.

“Mertil losing his tail means he’s lost his masculinity, and that’s bad because he’s gay! That’s homophobic!”

so this is another one I’ve gotta hardcore disagree with, because while Mertil is one of two Very Obviously Queer Characters, he’s not the only character who loses something fundamental about himself, or even loses access to sexual and/or romantic capability in ways he was familiar with.

Tobias and Arbron both get ripped out of their ordinary normal lives by going nothlit in bad situations, and while they both wind up finding fulfillment and freedom despite that, it’s still traumatic, even more for Arbron I’d say than for Tobias. And on a psychological level, none of the main cast is left unmarked or free of trauma or free of deep change thanks to the bad things that have happened to them - they’re no less fundamentally altered than Mertil, even if it’s mental rather than physical. And yes, tail loss is equated with castration or emasculation, but that doesn’t automatically mean Mertil suffering it is tied to his homosexuality and therefore the takeaway we’re intended to have is “Being gay is tragic and makes you less of a man”. This is a series where bad shit happens to everyone, and enduring losses that take away things central to one’s self-conception or identity or body is just part of the story.

Also, frankly? Plenty of IRL disabled people have to grapple with a loss of sexual function, and again, they’re not Bad Rep just because they’re messy.

“Andalite society is confusingly written in this book, and the disability aspects are clearly just a coverup for the gay stuff!”

Andalite society is canonically sexist, a bit exceptionalist and prejudiced in their own favor, and pretty contradictory and often challenged internally on its own norms. In essence, it’s a pretty ordinary society, and they’re really realistic as sci-fi races go. It makes sense from that perspective that Andalites would tolerate scarring or a lost stalk eye or a lost skull eye, but not tolerate serious injuries that significantly impact your perceived quality of life. Ableism is like that - it’s not one-size-fits-all. I look at Ax’s reactions and I see a lot of my own family and friends’ behaviors - this vibes with my understanding of prejudice, you know?

“Mertil and Gafinilan have a tragic ending, which means the story is saying that being gay dooms you to tragedy!”

Mertil and Gafinilan have the best possible ending that they could ask for? They are victims of the war, they are suffering because of the war, they get the same cocktail of trauma and damage that every other soldier gets. But unlike Jake and Tobias and Marco, unlike Elfangor, unlike Aximili? Their ending comes in peace, in their own home. Gafinilan isn’t dying alone, he’s got the love of his life with him. Mertil isn’t going to be as isolated anymore, he’s got Marco for a friend. Animorphs is a tragedy, it’s not a happy story, it’s not something that guarantees a beautiful sunshine-and-roses ending for everyone, and I love tragedy, and so I will fight for this story. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it deserved better. But it’s not less meaningful just because it’s sad. Nobody is entitled to anything in this book, and it’s just as true for these two as it is for anyone else.

“It’s not cool that the only canonically gay characters in this series don’t get to be happy and trauma-free and unblemished Good Rep!”

This is one I can kind of understand, and I’ll give some ground to it, because it is sucky. The only thing I’ll say is that I stand by my argument that nothing that happens to Mertil and Gafinilan is unusual compared to what happens to the rest of the cast, and that their ending is way happier than Rachel and Tobias’s, or Jake and Cassie’s. But it’s a legitimate point of frustration, and the one argument I’ll say I agree has validity.

(Though, I also want to point out that I think there are plenty of equally queercoded characters in the story who aren’t Mertil and Gafinilan - Tobias, Rachel, Cassie, and Marco all get at least one or two moments that signal to me that they’re potentially LGBT+, not to mention Mr. Tidwell and Illim in #29 and their long-term domestic partnership. There’s no reason to assume that the only queer people here are those two aliens when Marco’s descriptions of Jake exist.)

“Marco uses slurs and reduces Gafinilan’s whole identity to his illness!”

Technically, yes, this is true, except putting it that way strips the whole passage of its context. Marco is discussing the boxes society puts you into, the ones you don’t have a choice about facing or escaping. He’s talking about negative stereotypes and reductive generalizations, he’s referring to them as bad things that you get inflicted upon you by an outside world or by friends who don’t know the whole story or the real you. The slurs he uses are real slurs that get thrown at people still, and they’re not okay, and the point is that they’re not okay but assholes are going to call you by them anyway. He ends by saying “you just have to learn to live with it”, and since this is coming from a fifteen-year-old Latino kid who we know is picked on by bullies for all sorts of reasons and who faces racism and homophobia? He knows what he’s talking about. He’s bitter about what’s been said and done, he’s not stating it like it’s a good thing.

Yes, absolutely, this speech is a product of its time, but it’s a product of its time that speaks of defiance and says “We aren’t what we’re said to be,” and in the year this was published? That’s a good message.

tl;dr The Other is good, actually, and Mertil and Gafinilan are incredible characters who deserve all the love they could possibly get.

[rosiesung]

7 Days || Y.JW

for @geminirules "Just Friends" collab

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Pairing: Jungwon x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Friends to Lovers AU

Words: 3.63k

Warnings: Reader calls Jungwon a dick.

Synopsis: You are dared to pretend to be in a relationship with your best friend Jungwon. Initially, you go through with the childish challenge, knowing it will be insignificant to your friendship. But as the days pass, you begin to realise your true feelings for him. Will your revelations ruin your friendship? Or will something beautiful blossom because of them?

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"I dare you to pretend like you're dating Jungwon for a whole week."

You looked at your best friend with wide eyes, a similar expression of surprise on his face. There was no way you were going to do that. It would be way too awkward.

"Come on y/n. Don't be a party pooper. It's not like you guys are going to fall in love."

Of course things wouldn't turn out that way. No matter what, nothing would change the way you saw Jungwon. He would always remain your best friend and nothing more.

Jungwon looked too embarrassed to say anything. Both of you knew it was just a dare. What was the worst that could happen?

"Fine. Starting tomorrow Jungwon's my unofficial-official boyfriend," you announced, linking your arm with his. Jungwon hid his face in his hands as everyone around you screamed and cheered. This was going to be one interesting week.

~

☀︎ DAY 1 ☀︎

Since you only had to put on a show in front of your friends, you figured the best thing to do would be to hang out with Jungwon in solitude. He didn't have a problem with your plan. You both had been having playdates together ever since you were three. He was comfortable being alone with you.

Both of you met at your secret spot. A small grove behind the schoolyard. It was a place the two of you had found while skipping classes one day. Ever since then, this was where you spent time together whenever you needed some peace and quiet.

"I can't believe you actually agreed to this," Jungwon said, mindlessly plucking the grass he laid on. You sighed, staring at the row of trees beyond. "A dare's a dare. Besides, we have nothing to worry about because we don't have feelings for each other."

Jungwon sat up. "You know that we can't avoid all of them for the entire week right? They're literally planning to hang out at the cafe just so they can see us in the act." He sounded worried. There was no need to be.

"Of course I know that. So what? We'll let them see what they want to. It's not like they're going to make us kiss or something. The most we'll do is feed each other and hold hands."

Unlike Jungwon, you had already thought everything out. You knew how far to go while respecting the boundaries of your friendship. All Jungwon had to do was trust you.

He cringed in disgust at your words. "You're going to pay for landing me in this mess. We've barely even started and I already feel so miserable."

You patted his shoulder, flashing him an assuring smile. "You're not alone in your miser mister. After this is over, I'll do all your homework for you."

Jungwon laughed. "Learn how to do your own first. Then you can come and ruin mine."

~

☀︎ DAY 2 ☀︎

As Jungwon had predicted, your friends called you out to the cafe. Both of you were supposed to show up together. Jungwon met you a block away from the cafe, looking incredibly reluctant. "Are you sure you want to do this," he asked, just about ready to turn back around.

There was a determined look in your eyes. "Remember when he had to play Hansel and Gretel's parents for that play we did in preschool?" Jungwon nodded. He could never forget that day. "If we managed to get through that, we can get through this without a problem."

That made sense. Appreciative of your pep talk, Jungwon took your hand and whisked you away to the cafe.

By the time you reached your destination, both your hands were sweaty. Jungwon was just as nervous as you were. Not only because you had to pretend like you were dating, but also because your friends weren't going to miss the opportunity to tease you.

Seeing you two enter hand in hand, everyone began hooting and cheering. Jungwon's cheeks flushed almost immediately. You had to drag him towards the table you were supposed to sit at. "It's nice to see you two arriving together," one of your friends said, making space for you.

Taking a seat, you watched in horror as they placed a glass of juice with two straws in front of you both. No one had to explain what its purpose was. You glanced at Jungwon whose eyes were fixated on the glass hesitantly.

"If we get this over with now we'll be at peace," you whispered, leaning forward to place one of the straws between your lips. You looked away when Jungwon did the same, feeling the heat in his face on your cheek. You were certain you had never downed a drink so fast in your life. It didn't take long for you to finish the contents of the glass, quickly sitting back up to catch your breath. Your friends couldn't seem to get enough of the event, laughing and clapping avidly.

"You guys are so cute," some said. "Both of you would make such a nice couple in reality," said others.

Sitting there amongst your terribly evil friends, you wondered how you were going to get through the next five days with Jungwon.

~

☀︎ DAY 3 ☀︎

Your friends had invited you to another escapade at the park. You couldn't tell what they had in plan this time but you were sure it wasn't going to be enjoyable. At least this time, you and Jungwon didn't have to show up hand in hand.

When you reached the park, Jungwon was already there. Your friends beckoned you over, making you stand next to him.

"Now that our subjects have arrived, here's your to-do list. First, remain holding hands the entire time we are here. Second, Jungwon, give y/n your jacket if she starts feeling cold. Third, walk her back home and make sure you give her a nice, sweet little kiss before she goes inside."

Jungwon let out a noise of surprise. He wanted to run as far as he could and never come back. Holding your hand was fine. He had gotten used to it because of the previous day. He didn't mind giving you his jacket, but you were already wearing one so he didn't see why he would find the need to. Jungwon could do many things. But kissing you was not one of them. It didn't matter if it was on your cheek, your forehead, or the back of your hand, because there was no way on earth that he would bring his lips anywhere near yours.

What neither of you realized was that your friends were willing to go to the farthest lengths to make sure you went through with their tasks. They made you two walk in front of them so that they could see your hands intertwined. When the sun went down and the air started getting colder, they made you take your jacket off so that Jungwon would be left with no choice but to give you his. Just when it seemed like your night of torture would come to an end, they even made you share a single cone of ice cream. When it was finally time to go home, two of your friends followed behind you to make sure that Jungwon did his bidding. It was awkward enough walking through your neighborhood hand in hand. Those who knew you cast looks of confusion and surprise upon you two. Eventually, you reached your doorstep. Jungwon let go of your hand, standing in front of you. He looked everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You glanced behind your shoulder, rolling your eyes when you saw your two friends filming you from behind your neighbor's car. They weren't even attempting to be discrete.

"Hurry up and kiss me already. This is too embarrassing," you urged, slapping Jungwon's arm. He sucked in a breath, pressing his lips in a thin line. "Do you think it's not for me? I mean, I'm the one who has to kiss you for heaven's sake."

"Stop pitying yourself and just get on with it. The longer we stand here the more reason they'll have to punish us tomorrow."

Jungwon stared at you long and hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, pressing his lips onto yours without a second thought. You froze, eyes going so wide they might have popped out of your head. Even though it was probably only for two seconds, it felt like an eternity. Time froze as you stood in the foreign feeling of his lips on yours. He pulled away almost immediately, skipping down your driveway as fast as he could with a short wave and 'good night'. Still stunned, you entered your home, breaking into a smile when you closed the door.

~

☀︎ DAY 4 ☀︎

The next day, Jungwon asked you to meet him at your secret spot. So far, your friends hadn't made any plans to get you together. You saw Jungwon sitting in the middle of the grove, laying down on the damp grass as he usually did. Walking over, you sat down beside him, flicking his forehead so that he would open his eyes.

He grinned on seeing you, sitting up with a soft groan. "So, how was your night?"

You furrowed your brows at the question. It wasn't like him to ask you things like that. But you decided to overlook it. Maybe he was still feeling a bit awkward after the kiss you both hard shared the previous night.

You shrugged. "It was fine. How was yours?"

"I couldn't sleep," he revealed. It sounded like he'd been dying to tell you. "Why's that," you asked, believing that you had an idea of the reason.

"Last night scarred me," Jungwon shared, pretending to gag. You didn't know why, but hearing him say that made your heart sink. Suddenly, you felt horrible. "Was it really that bad," you asked, genuinely curious to know what he thought of it. Jungwon nodded, making you feel even worse. "It was worse than I thought it would be," he added. Your eyes started stinging. A lump formed in your throat and the longer you held it back, the more it hurt. You knew you hadn't been eager to kiss him, but you would argue about how 'bad' it was. But bringing that up right now would just be stupid. Jungwon would misunderstand where you were coming for and that would just lead to another disaster entirely. You had told yourself that you weren't going to let this dare get to you, but four days in you were already slipping. The longer you sat there, listening to Jungwon whine and complain about everything he'd had to do with you so far, the harder it became to control your emotion. Not able to take it anymore, you got up abruptly and ran away, leaving Jungwon sitting there extremely puzzled.

~

☀︎ DAY 5 ☀︎

You didn't respond to any of Jungwon's calls or texts. You didn't have it in you to face him. He would be disappointed if he found out the real reason behind your sappy mood. So you were gonna wait till you got over it before facing him.

You still couldn't believe that you had been so affected by Jungwon saying that he hated the kiss. Despite telling yourself that you disliked it too, you couldn't help but think otherwise. There was something so magical about it. You had never felt that way because of a kiss before. Whenever you thought back to it, an exciting warmth rippled through your mind. Your heart danced in glee and a wide smile formed on your lips.

But you weren't supposed to feel that way. Jungwon was your best friend. Besides, he hadn't kissed you willingly. You didn't understand why it felt so special to you when it clearly meant nothing to him. You knew you couldn't blame him for that. His mind was wired to see you as nothing more than a friend. You found it hilarious. Here you were, realizing that you probably liked your best friend after having continuously assured yourself and him that something like that would never happen. The sad part was that Jungwon would never reciprocate your feelings. You were all alone in this.

A knock sounded at your window, startling you. Slipping out of your reverie, you glanced towards it, eyes widening in surprise when you saw Jungwon crouched before it. You didn't think twice before letting him in. He entered your room and stood in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You wanna explain what happened yesterday?"

You frowned and turned away shoulders slouching disinterestedly. "Is that what you came here for," you asked, regretting letting him in?

"Well did I have a choice? You've been blatantly ignoring me while all I've been trying to do is make sure you're alright," he said, stepping closer to you.

"I'm fine. If that's all you needed to hear, you can leave now," you replied. You didn't need him prying and prodding at you right now.

Jungwon stood his ground, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "No, you're not y/n. You aren't fine. Tell me what's bothering you."

You sighed and faced him. "Trust me, you wouldn't want to know."

Jungwon furrowed his brows. He didn't know what that meant. "I think I'll be the judge of that."

"It's you. You're bothering me," you spoke, narrowing your eyes at him. Jungwon hadn't been expecting that. But he didn't let the surprise show on his face. "What did I do?"

"You made me feel so worthless and undesirable. But that's not your fault. I can't blame you because you're right to think that way about me. I'm just pitying myself here and there's nothing you can do about it so please, just leave me alone." The tears were coming back again. You didn't want to break down in front of Jungwon. His face fell. He didn't know what to say to that. He thought you knew he was just being overdramatic. He seriously hadn't meant to hurt you. Before he could apologize, you turned to him. "I don't think I'll be good at keeping this a secret, so let me just tell you that I'm starting to catch feelings for you. If that makes you uncomfortable then you can leave. If you have something to say, just say it and go. But don't ask me why I feel the way I do because that's something I'm yet to figure out."

Jungwon was at a loss for words. He stood there, gaping at you like an open-mouthed fish before turning on his heel and exiting through your bedroom door. You heard your mother yelp on seeing him, probably wondering where he had shown up from. A part of you wished that he hadn't left, but the other was glad that he was gone. You felt like a fool for letting all of this happen. You should have never agreed to this dare. Who would have thought it would lead to something like this? There was nothing you could do now. There was no way you could change the way you felt. Because at the end of the day, it was as clear as ever, that you were undeniably in love with your best friend Yang Jungwon.

~

☀︎ DAY 6 ☀︎

Jungwon couldn't stop thinking about everything you had told him yesterday. He would never have imagined that you would catch feelings, especially through such a childish dare. Your friends had called you out to the park again today, but Jungwon wasn't going to go. He knew you wouldn't be there so there was no point. He wished he could tell you that he hadn't meant half the things he'd said about the kiss at the grove that day. He was just trying to show you that the kiss hadn't made him feel some type of way. Not just that, but he was also attempting to persuade himself that he indeed had loathed it. Maybe he should have been truthful instead of lying about it.

This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. Jungwon was always fond of you. He cared for you and he wouldn't lie when he said that he loved you. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he felt that way because he thought of you as more than a friend. Jungwon didn't want to convince himself that he liked you just because you had confessed to him. He wanted to understand the way he truly felt about you.

He knew every little thing about you. No one knew you as well as he did. Jungwon cherished your friendship and the time he spent with you. Whenever anything bugged him, he always came to you, knowing that you were the only person who could make things better. He relied on you more than anyone else. He couldn't go a day without speaking to you. After yesterday, he realized how important you were to him. The fear of losing you ate at him the longer he stayed away from you.

Jungwon hated knowing that you were sad. It hurt more to know that he was the reason behind it. He wanted nothing more than to hug you and apologize for making you feel bad. He felt guilty for everything he had done. It had only been a couple hours since he had last spoken to you, but it felt longer. He missed you so much.

So he left you a text, asking you to meet him at your secret spot. He kept his phone close, waiting till you replied. But you didn't. You probably wanted nothing to do with him. Nonetheless, he still hoped and prayed that you would give him one last chance to make things right again. He couldn't afford to lose someone as special as you. There was nothing for him if he didn't have you.

~

☀︎ DAY 7 ☀︎

Jungwon laid in the grass, staring at the dull sky above. It was filled with clouds, hiding the sun. The grove felt so big and endless when he was alone. When he was with you, it was much more cozy and bright, even if the atmosphere was gloomy.

He had been waiting for you for quite a long time now. You hadn't replied to his message last night, but he knew you had seen it. Just before he was about to lose hope, he heard the grass crunch a few feet away from him. Jungwon didn't have to look to know it was you. No one else knew the path to get here.

"What do you want," you asked, voice small but laced with malice. You were cross with him. Jungwon wished to change that today. He patted the space next to him. "Let's not pretend like we hate each other. You could do the worst thing to me but I'd still admire you."

You didn't argue and sat down beside him. Other than the tension in the air, everything felt normal. There was a scowl on your face. It must have taken a lot of convincing for you to come here. Jungwon needed to get to the point.

"I'm sorry about everything I said. I didn't even mean half of those things."

You scoffed. "Oh really? They sounded pretty heartfelt to me."

Jungwon sat up. "I was just trying to enforce the idea that I wasn't into you, on myself," he revealed, hoping that you would forgive him. "And being a dick was the only way you could do that? Jungwon, you weren't the only one who was attempting to suppress their feelings," you refuted.

"I know y/n. And it's my fault for not realizing sooner," he admitted, hanging his head. You sighed and shook your head. "This is so immature. I can't believe we're letting a stupid dare get in the middle of our friendship."

Jungwon chuckled darkly. "Maybe it's a sign that our friendship has run its course."

You turned to him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Jungwon smiled. "I gave it some thought yesterday. We're both attempting to be in denial of our feelings. Obviously, that isn't working out. If it wasn't for this dare, they would've remained buried deep down somewhere. But I guess you could say everything happens for a reason." He took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. "I never realized how much I loved this feeling until I had to go a whole two days without it."

You couldn't even hide your smile. "Where is this going Jungwon?"

"Maybe we should give this a chance. Give us a chance. Who knows? It could turn out the be the best thing that's ever happened to us," he said, meeting your eyes.

"And what if it doesn't? We would be throwing so many years of friendship away."

Jungwon shook his head. "How long are we supposed to contradict how we truly feel about each other? That would take a heavier toll on us."

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "It doesn't hurt to try I guess."

Jungwon beamed. "That's the spirit!" It felt nice to see you smiling at him again. He was grateful for that. It was funny how a large part of his mood depended on you. If you were happy, he was happy. If you were sad, he was sad. His entire world revolved around you, and Jungwon knew the best thing to do was strengthen that bond.

"So, will you be my girlfriend," he asked, smiling cheekily. You bit your lip, looking at him through your lashes. "Of course I will."

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this fic. Please let me know how you found it! Thank you so much!

[inviouswriting]

Family with you

Simeon x fem!reader

Some light smuts mixed in, but mostly fluff. Nothing graphic but enough to be cut.

If mc was already a mother when arriving to Devildom with their child. Needed something for myself too. 

TW: for reasoning behind the father figure not in as a result of them leaving, or uninterested. Abandoning mc. 

When you had first arrived at Devildom, the others were surprised to the child with you. Looking no older than between five to seven and hiding behind you. Lucifer was first to be taken aback by this exchange, and Diavolo immediately is dropping down to say hello.

Things progressed as they normally did afterwards. You had a stronger backbone when it came to threats and reminded the demons that you’ll have their horns and wings if anything happened to your child. 

You are single, and comforted your child as best as you can in a world full of demons. Diavolo set up a special way for your child to be cared for while you attended RAD. Spending time with Barbatos, to learn from him rather than be around all the chaos.

When you met Simeon, it was like something clicked between you two. Barbatos had brought your child to you at the end of the day, and Simeon is already enamored by them. His eyes shined at seeing them, and you feel trusting of the angel. Luke sees a potential friend, close in age, able to relax, though he felt more like an older brother figure. 

“Why not visit us a little more?” Simeon offers, and you take him up on the offer for any peace and quiet from House of Lamentations. A steady relationship bloomed between you and Simeon. Alot of the time spent guiding both Luke and your child in the right directions.

When Simeon asked how your child came to be, you felt your face hot at mentioning everything prior to Devildom, whether a joyful one or a unpleasant. Your child was someone you never regretted, even out of wedlock. 

Simeon understood the question he asked was personal, and remembered how it sounded from an angel.

“I mean genuinely, I am not asking you or putting you under a confessional. I am just curious, do you have anyone in your life... in the human world?” You see the dusting of pink on his face, and it clicks for you.

“No, they’re not in the picture anymore.” At your words Simeon takes your hands into his own, realizing he has a full chance. 

“Would you go on some dates with me then?” You are surprised at this, and want to say yes, but your eyes drift to your child playing a game with Luke. 

“I’d love to, but who would watch them?” You haven’t quite trusted the brothers, the closest one you feel you could is Beelzebub, and Asmodeus. 

“I think Barbatos can, he does enjoy both Luke and your child. I’m sure it would be fine to escape for an evening.” He offers solutions, and you agree to a date.  Agreeing was easier than the actual planning.

The night arrived, and you are dressed nicer than you normally are. Asmodeus being supportive and helped with an outfit that accents a Ristorante Six date. Simeon took care of arranging Luke and your child to be with Barbatos to learn how to cook some things together.

All that was needed was you, so Simeon met you at the restaurant. When he first saw you, he thought you really are an angel in disguise. Once inside, you talk about your life prior to Devildom, him learning more about the things you’ve gone through to raise this child, the hardships you’ve faced and he feels more protective of the idea of being with you.

Simeon walked with you for hours afterwards, you went back to House of Lamentations to drop off food you had leftovers from to Beelzebub. Promising him at least a dessert. The rest of the evening was spent walking through the city portion with Simeon. Getting to know him, his ranking as an angel, how he is raising Luke almost as a child of his own.

“More like grandson.” He amuses aloud, and you gently poke his sides. A moment is stilled between you and he takes his first kiss with you overlooking the Devildom.

After that first date, many more were had, till you are sure you are inseparable to Simeon as much as your child is so fond of Luke. 

When you became so entangled in your angels life and him in yours. You find yourself yearning for the love you two have made. Seeing him fall head over heels with your child, you laugh at moments when he is tender and gentle teaching them different ways. 

There have been only a few fights, only when it came to how you chose to raise your child. A little more firmness than Simeon letting Luke have free reign to learn from his own mistakes. You still had a role as a mother, and reminded Simeon that it works for him, but not for you in some aspects. You reminded your child of boundaries whenever Luke showed discomfort in sharing something.

After an evening of sharing insecurities with Simeon, explaining how hard it has been being alone. He runs his hands through your hair to remind you, you are not alone anymore. You question if he finds you attractive, the hour late, and you both knew Luke and your child sound asleep.

Simeon expresses his desires in you, even when you shyly bared yourself to him, he graciously kissed any marks left on your body from carrying those years ago. Didn’t care of your breasts were a little uneven, or what others have said as a “mom” body. Whether you were skinny or you never lost the weight, belly that sagged or didn’t look right to yourself.

“This is the result of the miracle you have brought into the world. And you are far more beautiful than you realize.” Simeon looks over every spot of you, blue eyes curious to the scars he may see, whether you had a rough pregnancy, or the scars left to save you both. He leaves no spot unkissed, letting you feel truly seen and loved more than the first time a man took interest only to leave later on.

Simeon sees the faint hurt in your eyes when it is reflected after kissing a spot that flared a memory. He replaces that memory with his own touch, reminding you that he loves you even as he loves you till you are clutching his bedsheets or pillows.

In the morning you feel wonderful, renewed and shy as those dark arms are wound around you possessively. Simeon not wanting to let go of you yet, your eyes being greeted to his face first thing, blue eyes meeting yours. 

You tease each other, tease long enough that Simeon coaxes you into a softer session with him in the shower together. Where he holds you up against the wall and any of those smut novels never compared to the things an angel has done to you.

When you broke the news to both Luke and your child about your relationship, Luke is surprised and almost unsure, questioning Simeon about whether he wants to risk his job as an angel. Simeon refutes this with.

“There are no risks involved, I’m in love.” You realize he could lose his wings.. you don’t want to make him choose. Your child on the other hand looks at Simeon with love in them. That an angel could literally be their father.

“Does this mean you’ll get married?” The thought crosses your mind with Simeon glancing to you, perhaps hopeful of your thoughts on the idea.

“It might mean that, if he wants to be.” You feel a squeeze in your hand from Simeon, and you catch his gaze. He is successful in the things he does, and he shines unique as an angel.

“I would love that. To have a family with you. Perhaps once we are in the human world?” Simeon asks, and you nod to make that a goal. 

The path to marriage was longer, going through so much, that the evening when Simeon actually asks you to marry him, you thought he was joking. It was on his birthday, and you had spent the day with him. Luke and your child set up a pleasant surprise for you both, getting Barbatos and Diavolo in on this unique exchange.

“Of course!” You are happy to no end and Simeon is relieved. The ceremony is held on the spot, as a more private exchange. The brothers agreed once you had chosen Simeon solely.

It isn’t until you were given a honeymoon to Diavolo’s private island that the need for your angel was truly awakened. Spending almost every day with him and night finding out just how much Simeon wanted you more than you realized. You wondered how much he held back from the first time you were together. 

Soon you settle into a routine with the new life with Simeon. That it surprised you when you found out you are pregnant again. Fear rises in you, as this was the scenario you had the first time. Perfectly happy, then it came crashing down when the other half didn’t want to be involved.

So you hide it from Simeon, for now. You wanted to wait before you told him, to see if your body could handle another. It isn’t until you are lying down fatigued that Simeon catches on. His fingers are tender as they touch your stomach to sense life, giving you a firm stare for not telling him sooner.

“My love, how long have you known?” He questions, he is already pressing his face to say hi to the life forming. 

“Only a few weeks... I wanted to be sure that this one will stay.” Simeon looks up smiling, the intensity in his eyes fades.

“My lamb... how could you keep this wonderful secret from me.” Your hands card through dark brown hair, bright blue eyes peek up more framed by dark skin. He is over the moon and nuzzles his face into your belly. 

You smile and feel a little guilty he found out this way. You wanted to tell him, and see him full of joy instead of concern. Though his happy expression keeps you from spoiling him too much. You learn him and his ways of showing love, but this side of him. 

You are amazed at how much he dotes and loves you. Seeing the blush on his face realizing all those sleepless nights resulted in a life that is of you and him. That this brings you two closer than ever.

When Simeon looks up he sees your eyes brimming with tears and he freaks wondering if he did something wrong.

“Please don’t leave me...” You plead him, and he remembers that years ago that a child is the reason your first doesn’t have a father. Whether by them leaving, vanishing, or expressing unwanted. He sees the pain return to your eyes, the wound that he had spent so many times trying to mend to heal your heart.

Simeon moves to sit with you and cups your face into his hands as he presses loving kiss after kiss.

“Never will leave you. Not now, not ever.” You tremble in sobs at the shock still going through you of the fear settling in, that it “could” happen. He could grow tired, just like before. When things got tough and they just left. 

Simeon sees the hurt still, and it takes coaxing from him to get you to curl up into his side. His colder hands pressed to your forehead as a nausea wave hits you and you let go of all your fears and tell him you are afraid he will leave you.

He assures you, he is there permanently, he won’t leave, not unless you chase him out yourself. And that breaks you of your spell, the fear of pushing a literal angel away overwhelms you and you raise up to kiss him like you haven’t before.

You still had hours before Luke and your child would be home, you spend the next few hours entangled together. You and Simeon on the floor of the house you call home. His hands going over every speck of you, and kissing away your worries. He is surprised when you take initiative to ride him, and your love making with the angel is truly felt through every nerve that you hold onto each other tight.

When you woke up much later, Simeon is next to you in the bed you share, just watching your face serenely. Foreheads pressed together.

“What time is it?” You question him, and start to raise to look at a clock and Simeon guides you to lie down.

“Almost time to make dinner. We still have time before they’re back. Let me spend this time with you?” You look at him and lay your head back down next to his. He seeks out your left hand to rub at your wedding band, while his other hand presses over your belly. He’s more loving here than what he did hours ago, touches you with such tenderness that you feel your heart thudding in your chest.

You indulge Simeon as he presses loving kisses and you both discuss the possible baby names. Simeon ever grateful you choose to be with him and love him.

[hysteriium]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth​ they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them. 

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think. 

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader. 

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence. 

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief. 

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice. 

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.  

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–” 

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running. 

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper. 

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.” 

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he? 

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“No,” he smirked, petting your head. 

Curse his height. 

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?” 

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.” 

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.” 

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.” 

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath. 

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?” 

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars. 

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.   

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”  

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so. 

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!” 

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well… 

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it. 

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word– 

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you. 

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first. 

“Will this make you, uh, happy?” 

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?” 

“My being with you.” 

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’. 

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.” 

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted. 

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm. 

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.  

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion. 

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–” 

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks. 

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning. 

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling. 

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady. 

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips. 

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold. 

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk. 

“Peach,” he cooed. 

You were going to have to reapply later. 

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him. 

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself. 

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him. 

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!” 

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with. 

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work. 

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.” 

“Hmm,” he trailed off. 

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green. 

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.  

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!” 

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed. 

“All done!” 

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.” 

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention. 

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.” 

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.” 

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.” 

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach. 

It would have to do, though.  

“Okay,” you whispered. 

He stood up now, towering over you. 

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips. 

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact. 

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“What are you–” 

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed. 

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring. 

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days. 

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving. 

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting. 

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust. 

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.” 

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.” 

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.  

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.  

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism. 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him. 

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’ 

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly. 

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth. 

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago. 

You fought the urge to run. 

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath. 

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand. 

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?” 

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.  

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.  

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–” 

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.” 

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out. 

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision. 

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology. 

Your stomach turned. 

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.  

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm. 

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt. 

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him. 

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset. 

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier. 

Pee-yew. 

Everyone here sucked. 

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her. 

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement. 

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.” 

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?” 

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear: 

I’m new to this. 

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation. 

Something had changed. 

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him. 

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response. 

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain. 

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment. 

“So what? What are you doing?” 

“What does it – ah – look like?” 

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away. 

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo. 

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but. 

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right. 

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it. 

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles. 

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt. 

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash. 

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.  

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean. 

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that. 

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good. 

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you. 

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you. 

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth. 

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.” 

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade. 

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.” 

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.” 

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.” 

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth. 

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation. 

Yeesh. 

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming. 

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here. 

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom. 

He smacked his lips. 

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse. 

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?” 

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side. 

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye. 

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her. 

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation. 

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?” 

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.  

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?” 

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.  

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing. 

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer. 

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut. 

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance. 

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed. 

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms. 

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.” 

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly. 

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again. 

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale. 

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.  

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.” 

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected. 

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–” 

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic. 

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”  

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness. 

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady. 

“Mine,” you whispered. 

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete. 

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand. 

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song. 

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice. 

[starbuckie]

𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

challenge: time travel challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld​

prompt: “we’re divorced?” 

pairing: sirius black x reader

words: 5.7k words

warnings: FOURTH WALL BREAK!!(sorry im very excited about that), lots of angst, almost smut(hehe), sirius lowkey has a breeding kink, sirius is an asshole for a bit, the smallest bit of fluff, fix-it, and the same time travel theory as back to the future

summary: an unnatural occurrence lets a woman go back in time to try and change everything she’s known for the past twenty years.

a/n: wow, i normally don’t write for harry potter so this was a nice change. anyways, this is for yvette’s time travel writing challenge, and everybody say HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVETTE! i’m so sorry this is late, it got deleted and i needed to re-edit, but i truly appreciate your friendship and your lovely, amazingly beautiful self, and I’m so so glad that we became friends :)  this fic is not beta-read at all, so if you see any mistakes tell me, but otherwise i really hope you enjoy this fic<3

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

It still wasn’t over. After all she had lost, more specifically everyone she had lost, and the shitty cycle that she had to call her life, it still wasn’t over. The people she had watched the life drain from, the screams of those suffering from the loss caused by the Dark Lord, and yet life still hadn’t had its fill of torturing Y/N. Grimmauld Place felt empty without the kids, without the Weasleys, but they had gone back to their home and soon enough she would have to as well. Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore, though she’d argued to hold onto him just a bit longer after-

After Sirius had died. 

Time had passed, maybe two or three weeks, but no matter what the woman couldn’t bring herself to get out of Sirius’ old bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling with her tears at bay. Her and Sirius had been a complicated thing, to say the least, a topic nobody had brought up since 1983, when she had banned it. Not as if there was much to talk about after the divorce and Sirius going to Azkaban. After Lily and James had died, after she had fought with Dumbledore for custody of Harry, after she had become a professor at Beauxbatons and moved to France without a second thought. Sirius had been locked up after he’d hurt her in the worst possible way, and Y/N’s heartbroken soul found no other reason to return to England. 

But, she pushed those bad memories to the back of her mind. It seemed so trivial, looking back on it. Not the broken house, of course, that had been his own mistake. But Y/N had many regrets, all of them seeming to revolve around the mischievous black-haired man who she had fallen in love with as a teen. The night it went down, the night their relationship had fractured at the seams and fallen down, was her greatest one however. It had been so stupid, so, so stupid, but they’d both gotten caught up in the moment, and Y/N had let him die without knowing how much she was sorry for that night that they let their fears consume them. 

The cries that she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free from the restraints of her heart. “I’m so sorry, Siri,” she whispered into the air, “I couldn’t save you this time.” As the hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks, Y/N shuffled across the room, letting her feet drag her to the old Black family room, the dark green walls embracing her rainy emotions. 

A little gasp escaped her lips as she looked at the portraits among the wall. The Black family tree was faded along the age-old wall, but what she was really looking for was the burned out image of her raven-haired love. There, right next to Regulus, was a black spot, scorned and scarred by the prestigious family for being a blood traitor. Y/N smiled and traced the burn with her finger, remembering their fourth year when she had accompanied him home for the holidays so he wouldn’t be completely alone in the hellhole he had to call his house. Sirius had snuck them up to this room and spent the night talking in hushed whispers sworn secrets. “I’ll be yours forever, Siri, and I’m sorry for fighting with you. I wish-” she sniffled, glaring at the spot in the wall as she tried to garble out her words, “I wish, I could go back in time, and just fix it. Just me and you, and that stupid night, with the bloody fight about children because you deserve it all, darling.”

“Ah, I think you can.” 

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide with fear. That was not Kreacher’s voice. There stood a younger woman, around nineteen, a scroll of paper and a quill in her hand. There was a whisper of a smirk on her face, brown eyes glittering even in the dimness in the room. “Who the hell are you?” Y/N looked at the door, which was still closed as she left it. She cast her wand out, pointing it at the stranger who did nothing but smile. “How did you get in here? Are you with the Lord?”

“With Voldemort?” The woman simply laughed. “Dude, I’m not with ‘the Lord’,” she added with air quotations. “Also I’m not really even here, so don’t you worry about that. My name’s Malia.”

Malia held her hand out, but Y/N kept her guard up. “You’re American. What brings you here? Are you a muggle?”

“Oh, nope, not a wizard, I’m just the author of this story.” Malia confided. “I’m here to tell you that you can fix this.”

“Fix… what?” Malia just rolled her eyes and sighed, staring up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

“God, did I write you to be hard of hearing now, too? I ought to fix that when I get back.” The woman blankly stared at the strange girl, wondering what the actual fuck she was talking about. “I can give you the chance to go back in time, Y/N. It won’t be for long, it’s really not gonna be interesting for more than two hours at most, but that should be enough time to tell the gang about what’s to come with Voldemort.”

“Like... time travel?” Y/N asked. The only way she knew how to time travel was the time turners. “But all of the ti-”

“Time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve read Harry Potter more times than I’ve said ‘I love you’ to my parents.” Malia smiled. “I’m the author, I make the rules, and my rule is that I’m giving you two hours in 1978 to talk to Sirius so he can fix the emotional fucking mess left behind by J.K. Rowling.”

“Who’s J.K. Rowling?” Malia shuddered at the name.

“A raggedy-ass, transphobic bitch who wrote y’all into existence, but she’s not of importance right now.” She checked the small, rectangular box in her hand, which glowed and provided little light in the darkened room. “Let’s see, it’s currently eleven-forty, so you have until one-forty to find the Marauders and fix this future. It may not be fixed in the books in the future, but if you are able to do it here that’s all that matters.” Malia’s brown eyes were downcast, her bright and loud personality dimming for just a moment before returning to Y/N’s confused gaze once more. “Try not to screw up too much while you’re there, just enough that you defeat the Dark Lord the first time. Tell Sirius all you know and that should be enough for him to fix all the mistakes, but do not under any circumstances let him or anyone else know who you are. I wish you luck, Y/N, it was nice to meet ya in person.” 

And with a peace sign in front of her face, she disappeared into a flash of neon pink light. 

“Bloody hell! Fix my future? Talk to Sirius? If this even is time travel, then how am I supposed to get there- AH!” Y/N’s body felt like it was turning inside out, her guts being torn from her stomach and back into it again. A delirious giggle arose from her lips in the black void she was pulled into, and a soft chatter could be heard, like voices at the end of a tunnel. 

“Blimey, looks like we got ourselves a nutter on school grounds.” Y/N’s arms flailed around, desperately seeking some sort of grounding surface to hold on to when her back hit a rough surface. There was an audible crack somewhere in her body, but she felt so sick that she couldn’t tell where. 

“Are you okay, ma’am? You just appeared from the sky and hit the ground.” Warm, brown eyes met Y/N’s, a familiar mess of black curls resting atop of the boy’s head. Large, rounded glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose, and an impish smile, one she used to know so well before he died, met his lips. 

“James,” she sighed. The boy stared at her strangely, and only then did she notice the three other boys and girls each behind them. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, and Alice. 

Sirius.

The sight that met her eyes made her nearly emotional. It had technically been only three weeks since she had seen him, but here was the young boy she had fallen in love with. The one who charmed her with his smart words and witty retorts to her brush-offs, who used to hold her in his arms in the most intimate and gentle ways. His grey eyes sparkled with curiosity, the infamous Marauder mischief swirling within the silvery pools.  

Seeing him so young tugged at her heartstrings, and though she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and never let go, a small, niggling feeling at the back of her head held her back. Was there something wrong?

“You know me?” Oh right, she was currently thirty-five. Looking around she noticed that she was outside the quidditch pitch, and there were other students, staring at her with widened eyes. No one knew she was Y/N L/N, their fellow schoolmate and probably one of the very few of them that survived the Death Eaters attacks. None of them were aware how it ended, or how it was currently going for them back in 1996, and in this time there was the first Wizarding War going on and they had every right to be terrified for their lives.

James now took a more defensive stance, standing tall and holding his wand out. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t give him the answer, instead letting her mouth gape open as she stared at him with wide eyes. Y/N looked across the grounds for the nearest exit, which was down by Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. It was her only choice at this point, to hide in the dark, creepy space, maybe just until the students went away so she could find Sirius and talk to him alone. It’d be hard to separate him from the boys, but if Lily were occupied with James it sure would be easy. 

Her younger, seventh-year self didn’t seem to be in the audience, thank Merlin, and with that knowledge, she got up and ran, ignoring her screaming muscles. That time travel really did a number on her. 

As she ran through the crowd, shoving people aside, she heard the students mutter, too much in shock and disarray to stop the crazy, old woman who knew James Potter.

“This is dodgy.”

“Someone ought to tell Dumbledore about this.”

“She kinda looks like Y/N L/N.’

“Don’t insult the poor girl like that, that wonker is ages old.”

“Come back here! Who the bloody hell are you?” Y/N’s heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to burst out. Only three minutes in the past and it was all going straight to shit. “Stupefy!”

Shit. “No, James, please don’t-“ Her body hit the ground and her eyes closed, the last thing she saw being the pumpkin patch by the hut.

-

“I see you’re awake now, Ms. L/N.” Dumbledore stood above Y/N in the hospital ward bed, his grey beard dangling in front of her face. Her first instinct was to start blaming him for everything that had happened, starting from Lily and James’ deaths to Sirius’, already opening her mouth to call him an old, senile cow, but then she realized that Harry hadn’t been sent to the Dursleys yet, much less been born yet, so none of it would have an effect on him. Y/N’s second instinct was to question how Dumbledore knew who she was in 1978, but her former Headmaster started to speak before she could do so. “I must admit, it’s very courageous, that stunt you just pulled. I don’t think Ms. Louie will be too happy about that.” Y/N sent him a questioning stare. “Malia, the girl you met earlier. Malia Louie.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how did you know it was me?” She was dressed in a white gown that went to her knees, and behind him she could see her blouse and jeans folded and clean. Ah, the Hospital Wing. She had brought the boys here more times than she could count in her years at Hogwarts. “I don’t exactly look as young as I used to.”

“Ah, don’t worry Ms. L/N, you’ve kept your good looks quite nicely, even in your older age.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his wrinkled eyes sparkling with joy. “And speaking of young, if you are still worrying yourself about your younger self, you can put that to a stop. I am aware that you are not able to tell anyone who you are, and time travel is exceptionally dangerous if you are seen by the other version of yourself. I’ve already told the students that you were just a stray witch, misguided in your ways and that you were well taken care of. However, I think that brings us to the question of what your intentions are in the past, Ms. L/N.”

“Headmaster, I don’t think I can tell you about my business here. I’ve already messed up by letting the school see me by letting everyone see me, I don’t know why that girl even sent me here, it’s clear that this was a mistake.” Y/N sat up on the headboard, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. The tall arches of windows let the sun in the room, and she could see the specks of dust swirling around in the golden light. It had to be close to the end of the year for them, maybe sometime around April or May, near the end of N.E.W.T.s at least. She could imagine that it’d be easy for her to get out of Hogwarts for the day, with all the students studying for the stressful exams in the library, maybe she'd make her way to Hogsmeade and walk around or visit Hagrid under a false name to have some tea. He was always open for a nice cuppa with strangers on any free day he had. “Thank you Headmaster, for your kindness, but I really ought to be going. I-it was nice to see you.”

Y/N started to help herself out of the bed, swinging her feet over to touch the cool stone ground. Bones cracked with pain and fatigue, her muscles stretching sluggishly. Merlin, that she was not expecting that much hurt from the fall, but she should have never underestimated James Potter. No one ever should if they want to keep their good mind and sanity. 

Dumbledore handed her her clothes, cracked lips set in a straight line as he nodded solemnly. “I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are here to do, Ms. L/N, but I have no doubt that you will.” With a sly wink, he added, “You were always one of our most ardent and bright students.”

Y/N let herself smile, and with a wave, swiftly brought herself to the door. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

After slipping outside, she ran down the corridors, echoes of her feet ringing lightly behind her. The courtyard proved to be empty and she quickly ducked behind a column and tugged her jeans on hastily, making sure that no professors came walking past. Though the sky proved to be bright and cheerful, a slight breeze carried through, making her fall off balance and fall on the cemented ground. 

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re in need of a little help.” Y/N looked up to the speaking figure, one that she both loved and dreaded to see. 

She gathered herself quickly, her mind running fast and heart beating out of her chest as she tried to get out. “Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I think I’ll just get up and going now, I don’t need to take time out of your day like this-”

“I know who you are, Y/N.” 

Y/N came to a full stop, going against her brain that screamed at her to run away. Sirius looked downtrodden, his grey eyes watering despite the small hint of a smirk on his face. Though he was always one for playing around and not taking anything seriously, she knew when it was time to stop pretending and get real. “How’d you know it was me, Sirius?”

“You really don’t look bad for your age, darling.” He offered her a hand to help her up and she took it graciously, eyeing him nearly guiltily and forgetting about her promise to Y/N. But that was useless now, this moment with her first love was much more important. “Also you have the tattoo on your chest. I knew it was you the moment you landed on school grounds.”

She traced his gaze to her left collarbone, where a paw print, just barely visible beneath her low-cut blouse, sat. It was his, or Snuffles’, paw print, and at this point in time they had probably gotten it done about three months before. He had one for her too, a horseshoe for her horse patronus, right on his left side of his chest too. So they’d always be right next to each other’s hearts, as cheesy as it seemed.

But they were dumb, lovesick teenagers, and they acted the part well too. Their love was all-consuming, shagging in under the bleachers at the quidditch pitch and making out under the stars. It was fast, everything was fast, decisions, ideas, classes, all of them under the impression that they had to do everything right then or they’d be dead before they got to actually live. They had dreams of marriage, and a big, big family, obviously so far away from his family so they could never hurt their children’s lives the way they had hurt his. 

They were fantasies, Y/N had known that well enough when she and Sirius got divorced, but it was something that eighteen year-old Sirius Black held close to his heart. No matter how shitty his life got, he was always a firm believer in a happy ending. In their happy ending. 

“How am I right now?” They now stood over the Black Lake, staring into the glittering depths of the water where some mermaids could be seen sneaking peeks at the handsome boy and the strange lady who had fallen from the sky. 

Sirius stared at her questioningly for a moment. “How are you doing right now? I mean, I believe that I should be asking you that ques- oh, Merlin, I’m such a git, you meant your younger self.” Y/N laughed at that, her heart lifting with the goofiness of the old Sirius relieving an ache in her heart that she had had for so long. Not that old (it felt weird to say that) Sirius had been anything less than silly and snarky, but it was never directed towards her. It was nice to have the resemblance of their old relationship back, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. “I suppose that you’re okay. You didn’t see, well, your big moment on the field, but at this point Lily has probably opened her big, fat mouth and told you. N.E.W.T.s are just finishing up, so you’re much more light-hearted than during the study season.”

“I really did have a stick up my arse during exam time, you always told me to loosen up-” 

“Y/N, cut out the small talk, I think it’s okay for me to ask how and what is happening.” Sirius cut in.

So she told him. Y/N had always been upfront with people about everything. Or rather, she had learned how to be upfront with people after her and Sirius’ divorce. Without details of the deaths, she explained how she was sent back into the past to fix it in some conceivable way. However, she did tell him about the fall out. Maybe she wanted him to understand her pain, even though it was a younger him, but she had to admit to herself that it was because she just wanted Sirius, in whatever form life gave her to hear out her grievances and apologies. 

Since her Sirius was dead before she could.

“We’re divorced?” Sirius looked about ready to break down into tears, almost as if the concept of them breaking up or separating was foreign to him. “What exactly did we fight over, Y/N? That doesn’t seem normal for the two of us.” Sirius asked.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a normal predicament for us. either…”

Sirius slammed the door shut, efficiently pinning her against it with his white button up ruffled up, navy tie hanging from his neck loosely. Y/N’s arms were held down tightly against the oak wood, the sensation of the cold door burning into her rather warm skin making her squeal. Her husband’s tongue worked its way through her parted lips, low groans rising from the back of his throat from the way she moaned in tandem with his hips pushing into hers. Legs wrapped around his tapered waist, the pink, floral skirt Y/N wore rising high on her thighs, revealing more of her flesh to the lust-filled man. Both of their giggles echoed off the hallway walls of their small cottage home, just four miles west of their best friends’. 

As the twenty year-old man threw his wife unceremoniously on the bed, he shed himself of his shirt and swiftly unbuttoned his slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Merlin, Y/N looked ethereal laying spread out on the bed, panties around her left ankle, swollen lips parted with short puffs of air leaving them. “You just get right down to business, don’t you, Black.” 

Crawling over his body, his hot breath hit her neck as he growled against her skin. “Could say the same thing about you, darling.” Sirius’ lips made their way down every inch, every curve, nook, and cranny of Y/N’s body, smoothly slipping her clothes off as he did so. Her sweet gasps filled the bedroom, back arching off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m going to put a baby in you tonight, sweetheart, we’re-”

Y/N sat up straight, her eyebrows trained in confusion at her husband. “What? A baby?” 

Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. “Yes.” He remarked in a clipped tone. “Is that not what you wanted?” 

Her mind recalled her words from earlier that day, as she chatted happily with Lily about the news of her pregnancy. “Siri, I said I may one day enjoy having a kid of my own. Not right now, of course, but later. After all, we only got married a few months ago, don’t you think we should hold off a bit on that? We’re twenty years-old, Siri, there’s so many years for that.”

Rage filled Sirius’ blood like a spreading fire. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much about his anger as it was his hurt and fear. Fear that she had realized how fucked up he truly was, fear that she realized what he had known all along- that she deserved better than him. “So you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I never said I didn’t want that, Sirius, I just said that I’m not ready!” Y/N yelled back. At this point both of them stood on opposite sides of the bed, faces hot with tears. “We’re in the middle of a bloody war, people we know, people we love, have lost their lives, and it is not the ideal environment to raise a child, Sirius! Just because James and Lily are ready to have one doesn’t mean that I am too!”

“When will you be ready, Y/N? When will it ever be enough time for you? When will I be enough for you?” The heartbroken girl tried to interject, but her voice was cut off by her husband’s quickly enough. Sirius climbed onto the bed, holding her chin harshly with one hand. “Tell me, did you ever want to be with me in the first place?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course I wanted to be with you.” His heart hurt looking at the love of his life in tears, but even that was able to melt his cold facade. “I love you more than anything in the world.” 

“Then fucking prove it, Y/N.” With that declaration, he removed his hand from her face and gathered his clothes, slamming everything in their shared room as Y/N quivered, knees ready to buckle on the spot. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”  

As soon as the front door shut, she fell to the ground in tears, the laughter that once filled their home replaced with the sound of her shattered heart. 

Y/N had done her best to not tear up during her explanation of the events that had taken that night, but Sirius' eyes watered, refusing to believe the truth. “No. No. I didn’t do that. Y/N, tell me,” he gripped her biceps with trembling hands, “please tell me I didn’t really do that. I can’t believe that I-I, that I-”

“You were drunk, Sirius, I don’t think you truly knew what you were saying at the time.” She sighed, “But people always say that drunken words are just sober thoughts.” Y/N rubbed her arms, just shivering slightly in the Scotland breeze. “You came back two hours later punching the wall and breaking it, and that’s when I knew that we wouldn’t last.” 

The raven-haired boy’s head started to shake, even more mortified of the actions that his future self, the man he’d be in just two years' time, had done. “I packed up my things, not that there were many, we’d only moved into the house a month before, left, and I sent the divorce papers a week later. It was probably better that way, you would’ve divorced me if I hadn’t done it first.” Y/N had gotten used to telling her sob story to colleagues at Beauxbatons, to her family, but it felt different with pre-divorce Sirius. Of course, she had never thought she’d be in this citation either, so no one could really blame her for feeling weird. “You signed them easily, and my lawyer made sure that I never had to see you again.”  Until Lily and James died.

“Until…” Sirius led on.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’ve always been able to read my mind. Shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” He smiled at the sentiment, gesturing for her to continue. “I can’t tell you, Sirius, I hope you can understand that.”

“Why, Y/N, what happens that can be any worse in the future?” Oh dear, Sirius, you really do not want the answer to that question. She needed any way out of this conversation, after all running away was what she did best, and her eyes already searched for several routes to which she could run. Not that Y/N could ever outrun Sirius in his animagus form, but it was nice to have the belief that she could. The boy sensed her distress and grabbed hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, darling, but I have to admit that I am a bit worried, just in the slightest.”

Y/N let herself calm down, squeezing Sirius’ hand and noticing his watch. She had actually given him that watch, gold-plated and dark grey metal, but it wasn’t the beauty of the gift that caught her eye, but rather the actual time on it. One-thirty. 

How had that much time gone by so quickly? She was going to be sucked into the black void of time travel again in ten minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to unload nearly twenty years worth of history onto Sirius. No, he would go insane from that much knowledge, which was exactly against what Malia had advised. 

“I don’t have enough time to tell you everything that happens in the future, Sirius. But what I am about to tell you is vital, absolutely vital for the good of all of us in the future.” Sirius nodded with a serious sort of smile on his face. “Don’t let Peter be Lily and James’ secret keeper. When the time comes that they move away, I’m not going to tell you where yet, do not under any circumstances let Peter be their secret keeper. I know he’s one of our best friends right now, and do not tell anyone about this, but he’s going to betray us in the worst way possible.” 

While Sirius was shocked, he nodded solemnly and ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. Can I fix us, Y/N? I don’t know if you should be letting the key to a happier future rest in my hands.”

“I full heartedly trust that you’ll do some good, whatever the outcome may be. As for fixing us, I hope you can, but depending on what happens we’ll just have to wait and see.” She sighed, “If you want my opinion on it, I think that we both should have waited longer to get married. It was right after James and Lily got married, but we aren’t and never will be them. We both had a lot of growing up to do, so I would take it slowly. Communicate your wants and needs in the relationship and in the end it may not even be us together. But I know you, Siri, don’t let this get in the way of your entire life. The most important part is that you tell James and Lily about Peter.”  

She glanced back up the school grounds where students could start to be seen leaving their classes. “You better get back to the castle, Sirius. McGonagall is going to come for your arse and this time the boys aren’t going to be able to cover for you.”

“If they knew where I was, darling, I don’t even think they’d believe me.” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N nodded in agreement and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. “You can do this, sweetheart, and even if you can’t, it will not stop me from loving you any less. Maybe the future wasn’t meant to be changed, but regardless of whether that is true or not, I know that you will try your hardest, Sirius. Just try not to die, okay?”

The boy was still clutching onto her tightly, his tears soaking her rose-colored blouse. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

With one last kiss on the forehead, she smiled at him. “I know you will, Siri.” 

-

Y/N’s arse hit the floor once again, her spine cracking once again. “What’s the year?” She yelled out, reaching for the walls of the black family room. 

But it wasn’t there. Upon opening her eyes, she saw James, Lily, and Sirius sitting at a wooden table in her old white cottage. A nice tea set, her grandmother’s as she realized later, sat in the center, along with a large stack of letters. “Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you, I’ve been worried sick!” 

Her red-headed best friend scurried over to her, brushing invisible dirt off her shoulders and pulling her up abruptly. James fixed the glasses on his nose, cleaning them off with his striped jumper. “You look a little disheveled right now, Y/N, what ran you over?” 

“You know who she reminds me of right now, Jamie? That crazy witch friend of Dumbledore’s that made her way onto campus back in seventh year.” Lily giggled as she hugged Y/N.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re right!” James walked over to the woman of the hour, ruffling her hair with a smirk on his face. “If you were about twenty years older I’d have no trouble believing you were the same person.”

While Lily and James recalled their memories from the strange woman all those years ago at Hogwarts, Sirius pulled Y/N aside, an arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth radiating from his body was nice, embracing her in a comfort she hadn’t felt in so long.

“I’m going to go ahead and believe that I did something right?” Sirius grabbed her hand, and only then did she notice the coolness of metal sitting on her left ring finger. There sat the single band of gold, a small ruby encased in its plating. She had once joked that diamonds were too overrated, and he went out and got her the most vibrant gem he could find, claiming that it was just like her. But regardless of its shape, size, or type of gem, it was there.

“Yeah, Siri,” Y/N replied with tears in her eyes, “you did good.” 

“Oi, Blacks, stop making out and get over here, we got a letter from Minnie!” James yelled, making both wives chuckle. “Harry’s gotten himself in detention for punching Malfoy again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, the boy deserves a few more good hits.” Sirius laughed. 

“McGonagall still talks to us?” Y/N asked in amazement. “You’ve got to get me caught up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Sirius gently placed his lips onto hers, and for once in nearly twenty years, Y/N felt at peace. There were no more hasty warnings of the future, no psychotic old men coming after her family, no young girls rushing in to tell her how to fix her screwed up life. Cracked, pink lips moving against her own, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Y/N knew she was finally off the clock.

[kp-alice]

Fading Grids | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst, but also fluff with a cute ending since this is a comfort fic

- While I did write this with Jaehyun in mind, you can find the other members’ versions here on my AO3 account. Their fics are identical to this one, I just changed the names so it could be about the member you want. -

Length: 3 599

Summary: Ever since you’ve met Jaehyun, it felt like a new light has shone into your life. Even the smallest gestures from him made you feel cared for and loved, a feeling you hadn’t felt in forever. However, you couldn’t help but worry. Worry about the day he would find out your long-kept secret.

Or, in a less poetic way, the day that he’d find out about your self-harming habits.

A/N: This fic is not meant to romanticize self-harm in any way and is mainly focused on the healing aspect of it and overcoming it with another person by your side. There are also no graphic descriptions of it, so I hope it doesn’t trigger anybody. As someone who has experience with this kind of issue, I know very well that there is nothing romantic about this and it’s a serious topic. However, as other fics with this kind of theme have helped me feel better in the past, I wanted to give back to the community and hopefully make someone feel even the tiniest bit better :)

And remember, you are strong, you are valid, you are worth something. Even if it might not seem like it right now, there are many reasons for you to keep going. Life will get better, and all that you might be dealing with right now will only make you stronger in the future.

It was yet another peaceful evening of lounging on the couch, doing absolutely nothing in an attempt to relax after a hard day. The lights in the living room were dimmed down, making the room feel that much cozier. The TV was on, illuminating your lying figure in an unnatural white. It only served as background noise, however, as you were mostly just looking at things on your phone. 

You could hear Jaehyun shuffling around in the kitchen, most likely making himself a quick snack after coming back from work a little while ago.

You smiled to yourself as you heard the quiet rustling in the other room. Your apartment used to be so empty, so quiet. Void of life, even with you in it. Colorless. But now, with Jaehyun finally moving in with you, it felt like your home was glowing. Everywhere you went, you would see small things that would remind you of him, even if he was away. His warm hoodie thrown over the chair that he would always beg you to wear. The tall vase full of beautiful flowers that he gave you when he took you out on a date last week. Hell, even just seeing the second toothbrush in your bathroom made you smile. 

You weren’t alone anymore. There was someone who cared for you now. A sun that brightened up not only your apartment, but your life as a whole.

Hadn’t it been for Jaehyun, you might not have been here anymore. As dark as that sounded, it was true. It felt as if he was an angel sent to you last minute to give you hope again. The will to keep going.

You still remember those days. Each passing day, you were growing more and more certain that your end was coming soon. With each new mark on your body, you could feel yourself slipping further away. You can still recall that same feeling of emptiness overcoming your heart and soul. That feeling of mindless surviving from one day to another.

Then he came along.

He didn’t know about them. There was no pity in his interest in you. He wasn’t caring just because he would have felt guilty if he didn’t do anything. He genuinely saw you as someone beautiful and interesting. 

And that’s what stung the most.

You feared the day that he would find out. When he would finally see you for who you were - someone fake, someone unstable, a liar. You imagined it over and over, a different scenario each time. Will he find out in the summer, when you’re constantly struggling to keep every scar hidden? When you have to keep coming up with believable lies as to why you can’t wear dresses and shorts, like all normal people do? Or will it be by accident? When you’re changing out of your clothes and he walks in on you unknowingly? Or will he-

You could go on and on. There wasn’t a single day where these kinds of  thoughts hadn’t occurred to you at least once. And all of them ended the exact same way every time. With him being shocked, angry, and disgusted. With him promptly breaking up with you and leaving you, along with the light he brought into your life. Leaving you in the dull darkness once again.

You felt like you were going crazy, the pressure and fear building up in you each day making you feel like you were drowning.

It had to stop. You had to stop.

And so you did.

You told Jaehyun.

It was about two or three months into your relationship, during one of your usual movie nights. Well, you called it a movie night, but it was more or less just a giant cuddling session, really. It surprised you as well how quickly the two of you have grown close. You would almost never let anybody get that close to you in such a short span of time, so how did you end up like this so soon? And why did it make your heart rush with excitement every time?

You guess Jaehyun just really had that much of an effect on you.

He was perfect in every way. Caring, loving, respectful, patient, oh so patient with you. It took just a single look from you for him to know if you were or weren’t comfortable doing something. And every time you weren’t, he’d just give you the sweetest smile, silently telling you that it’s okay, that he’ll wait for you.

The two of you were lying on the couch, with you resting on his chest and wrapped in his arms. You could tell that he wasn’t too engrossed in the movie you two were watching, noticing his glances at you every now and then. You didn’t mind, of course, it was adorable catching him every single time and watching the faintest blush spread across his cheeks along with a small smile.

But then his hands started to wander. And as they went further and further down, you knew what they were implying. What he was implying.

It was funny, really. Of all the scenarios you’d made up in your head about him discovering your utmostly hidden secret, this wasn’t in any of them.

You were brought out of your thoughts by the feeling of a hand slipping under your T-shirt, cold fingers contrasting your warm skin.

You snapped your head up, looking into your boyfriend’s eyes. He looked right back at you, and you could see that your sudden movement had startled him. His hand immediately retracted from you, fixing your shirt back in place as if to try and correct its mistakes.

“I, uh, I-I thought you were ready, sorry. I should have asked, I know, I really didn’t mean to-” 

“It’s okay, Jaehyun, really. I want this as much as you do, I promise. It’s just that...there’s something else that’s keeping me from being truly ready,” you said as you pulled yourself up from him into a sitting position. You tried to keep the rising nerves from shaking your voice, but it was getting harder with each passing second.

“And what is that something, baby? Is it something that I did?” He sat up as well, folding his hands in his lap.

You just shook your head, feeling the pit in your stomach growing. You tried to make up an excuse, but you couldn’t think of anything.

“Well, did you do something? Or did something happen? Talk to me, please,” he said, rubbing your arm comfortingly.

You tried to say something, anything, but no words came out. It felt like your brain was going a hundred miles a second, and you just couldn’t keep up. 

You couldn’t handle it anymore.

You broke down in tears, burying your head into his chest and letting his hoodie muffle your cries. ‘He doesn’t deserve this,’ you thought. ‘He doesn’t deserve me.’

Sobs continued to rack through your body, and it felt as if all of the pain you’ve been holding in was coming out at once. You clutched his arms in your hands, holding onto them for dear life.

His own hand had returned to your body, but this time, it just ran over your back repeatedly in an attempt to soothe your cries. The room was silent, safe for the sounds of your labored breathing and muffled sobs. 

You could hear his heart beating fast in his chest, only making you feel that much more guilty. You felt bad for him, you really did. He never deserved such a burden.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered after you had finally managed to get your voice under control again. You could feel the vibrations in his chest as he asked you why,  voice sounding just as pained as yours.

This was it. No excuse will save you now.

You carefully pushed yourself away from his chest, locking eyes with him again. You tried to look for any clues on how he might be feeling right now, but you found nothing. They were completely unreadable to you, with an unknown emotion written in them. He was waiting.

You sighed. “Jaehyun, I...I’m really sorry. This isn’t your fault. Please, don’t feel bad about anything that you’ve done. You’ve been nothing but amazing to me, and I can’t thank you enough. I don’t deserve you, seriously.”

At that, he opened his mouth to try and argue with you, but you just put your hand up, silencing him before he could say anything.

“Not only do I not deserve you, but you don’t deserve me either. You deserve someone happy, someone who you can depend on, someone who won’t be keeping secrets from you like I have.”

You could see the shock and betrayal on his face, eyes widening at your words.

“Wait, does that mean...a-are you cheating on me? (Y/N)? No, that’s not it, you wouldn’t do that, right?” He asked in a panic, grabbing your hands.

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes again. Fuck. Why the hell would you ever cheat on someone like him? And why does it hurt so much to do this?

“Of course I’m not cheating on you, Jaehyun! I would never do that! I just...” you trailed off, choking on your words. You removed your hands from his, folding them in your lap instead. You wanted to curl up in on yourself and disappear. This was never meant to happen. This shouldn’t be happening. 

And yet it is.

“You just what? (Y/N), please, tell me. I need you to tell me so I can help you,” he pressed on, rubbing your knee with his hand to emphasize his point. “Do you trust me?”

You could only weakly nod, feeling your throat constricting and stopping any potential words from coming out. A fresh set of tears spilled down your cheeks, making Jaehyun’s heart break at the sight.

He didn’t speak again, waiting for you. That was the thing about Jaehyun, he always knew that you didn’t need to be asked twice, you just needed a bit of time sometimes.

You winced at the pain of your throat tightening even more when you tried to speak, crushing your spirits even further. And not only were you sitting there, crying in front of Jaehyun, but he looked like he was going to start crying as well.

Deciding to just get it over with and face your demons, you shuffled a bit closer to Jaehyun, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down at least a little bit. With shaky hands, you slowly pulled up your clothes for him to see.

There they were. One of your biggest secrets, taking form in the abstract mess of lines of various lengths, shades, and visibility. Some were faded, some were recent. But all of them were there, staring right back at you to pull you back into reality. This was it.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You were waiting for him to say something, anything, but he stayed quiet.

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze on those angry red lines as your heart thrummed in your ears.

“Oh no.”

...

His words repeated in your head over and over again. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t understand. Where was the disgust you were expecting? Or the breakup that you were preparing yourself for this whole time?

“No, no, no no no no. Baby, why...” He trailed off, trying to process everything that he was seeing. “Come here,” he pulled you into his arms, sighing deeply. 

You couldn’t move, staying stiff in his embrace. 

It was through your rigid state that you noticed the slight tremble in his arms and labored breathing as he held onto you tight, tighter than ever before.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around him too, pressing you closer together. You stayed like this for a couple of minutes, trying to take everything in. The silence enveloped you again, only broken by Jaehyun’s occasional kisses to the top of your head as he tightened his grip around you.

After a bit, he leaned away from you, making you lift your head up from his chest to look at him. You looked into his sorrowful eyes, giving him a bitter smile.

“We’re going to get you help, okay? We can get you someone to talk to about this, if you want. Someone who knows how to deal with these things. And in the meantime, you can always just talk to me, you know? I’m here for you. I’ll be there for you when you need me, just-” he hugged you right back into him, exhaling a deep breath as he thought about what to say and how to say it.

“Just please, if you ever feel like this, or if you feel even the slightest need to do this again, call me.”

“B-but, I don’t want to bother you...” You mumbled into his chest, heart beating at your words. You’ve never been this honest with anyone before. It was terrifying.

“You won’t, baby. No matter how busy I might be, you won’t bother me. What would hurt me more is if you wouldn’t tell me. I need to know how you’re feeling and what’s making you feel like this in order to help you. So please, can you promise me that you’ll tell me? Pretty please?” His words ended in a mere whisper, looking deeply into your eyes.

You leaned forward into one of the softest and gentlest of kisses you’ve probably ever had. When you pulled back, the two of you just looked at each other again, with you giving Jaehyun a small smile.

“I promise.”

And it was just because of him that you never broke that promise.

It wasn’t easy, of course. Countless hesitant phone calls to Jaehyun followed after that night. Some were relatively short, with only small words of affirmation and a gentle and sincere ‘I love you’ at the end to ease your mind. Others went on for hours, with Jaehyun distracting you by talking to you, the two of you getting lost in each other’s thoughts and ideas. All of the calls did help, however, and you could feel yourself starting to get better once you began opening up to him more. Did it feel embarrassing and scary? Of course it did, but it also helped you realize more things about yourself and your feelings. You started to notice small patterns in your urges. What time of the day they were the strongest, what things or activities triggered them, and so on.

It never really went away, though. Not yet, at least. There were still moments that gave you that strangely addicting tingle in your skin, ones that reminded you of your past doings. Only this time, you resisted them every time. Whenever you looked at your past scars and saw them slowly beginning to fade, you knew you had to keep going. You couldn’t disappoint Jaehyun. You couldn’t disappoint yourself. You couldn’t let the cycle start all over again. So you resisted.

Nothing would have been possible without Jaehyun, however. It was like he developed a sixth sense for it. Every time he noticed your face drop slightly, or the way you were picking at your fingers anxiously, he knew what was going on. And every time he noticed this, he didn’t hesitate to do whatever he needed to make you feel better. Whether that meant subtly changing the topic of your friend group’s conversation or goofing around with you until you were laughing again, he didn’t care. All he knew was that he wanted to see you happy again. And he succeeded every time.

It wasn’t just subtle things like this, though. He was very open about it with you as well, never shying away from the topic. He wanted to make you feel comfortable, after all, and the last thing he wanted was for you to close off again. And so he decided to support you as much as he could, even going as far as checking off every day that you haven’t self-harmed on your little calendar on the fridge. It was a bit embarrassing for you at first, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit like a child, but you soon grew to like it as well. And as you watched the rows of checkmarks growing with each passing day, you were more and more proud of yourself.

And so one row grew into two, then three, ten, twenty...

The soft pads of feet echoed throughout the apartment as Jaehyun walked into the dim living room with a big smile on his face. You smiled back at him, getting up from the couch to hug him, but he stopped you. Confused, you looked up at him.

“Don’t get up just yet, I have something for you,” he said, and it was just then that you noticed the small box in his hands. Curious, you turned off the TV and sat up straight on the couch, waiting expectantly.

He placed the box on the table in front of you before rushing back into the kitchen for something else.

“Don’t open that just yet!” He called after you as he rummaged in the bag he brought home with him.

“I won’t, don’t worry,” you giggled at his antics, feeling a small buzz of excitement coursing through you as you sat patiently.

He returned a few seconds later, holding two small items in his hands. You couldn’t see what they were in the darkness of the room, so you waited for Jaehyun to do whatever it was that he was planning.

He knelt on the floor next to your spot on the couch, giving you a small grin before turning back to the box.

Opening it carefully, he revealed the small cake inside. Your favorite kind of cake, to be exact. Taking one of the things in his hand, which you finally realized was a small candle, he stuck it into the middle. With his other hand, he flicked on the lighter he was holding, lighting up the candle.

The room was now cast in a gentle yellow glow, the flame of the candle swaying slightly.

“Tadaa! Happy anniversary!” Jaehyun said, picking up the box and bringing it closer to you. “Blow out the candle!”

You couldn’t help but be confused. Did you miss something? It wasn’t your birthday, that you knew for a fact, nor was it Jaehyun’s. And you just had your anniversary the other month, so what could this mean?

“Jaehyun, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I understand. What exactly are we celebrating here?” You asked with a small chuckle, looking into Jaehyun’s happy eyes.

“Wait, did you forget? Today marks a year since you’ve last...you know. Since you’ve stopped harming yourself. I thought it deserved a small celebration,” he looked at you with a bashful smile, faint red tinting his cheeks.

However, when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, he started to panic.

“(Y/N), are you okay? Why are you crying, baby? Wait, you didn’t start doing it again, did you...?” He said in a rushed voice laced with concern. Quickly putting the cake back on the table, he sat next to you, bringing you close as he looked all over your body for any new scars or bruises.

You just hugged him, shaking your head. “No, I didn’t, I promise. I just- this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, Jaehyun. Thank you for being here for me and for caring for me and-”

“Shh, it’s okay, come here.” He whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he did the same on yours. “You have no idea how proud of you I am. You’ve been so strong and brave this year, and I really admire you for that, you know?” He said, rubbing gentle circles on your back.

You just stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth and comfort, until Jaehyun spoke up again.

“And if my endless admiration isn’t enough for you to keep going, you have this cake to motivate you as well,” he said jokingly, making you chuckle with him.

You broke the hug, Jaehyun’s arm still wrapped around your waist as he turned back to the cake. “Do you want to blow out the candle?”

You thought to yourself before speaking again. “Can we do it together?” You asked, a light blush tinting your cheeks. Jaehyun just smiled, intertwining your fingers together as he bent forward slightly.

He squeezed your hand once, twice, and after the third squeeze, you blew out the flame at the same time.

The room went dim again, but you could still see the adorable shine in Jaehyun’s eyes as he turned back to you.

He leaned closer to you, connecting your lips in the most loving and gentle of kisses.

“I love you.”

-

pic credit - jpegfantasy on Tumblr

[mymovingfingerwrites]

courage, dear heart

When we think of Lucy, we think of her golden hair and her cheerful smile, we think of a girl walking through a wardrobe and accepting a new world without question. We think of Queen Lucy, blessed with the power to heal, the only girl on a ship full of boys searching for a hint of whence they came. We think of her at the end of the world, kind and lovely and sorrowful as a mouse rows away, and in the world beyond the end of the world, her eyes lit up with delight. Resolute Lucy, bold Lucy, perched like a bird on the back of a lion.

When we think of Narnia, we think of Lucy. How could we not? Was it not Lucy who opened a wardrobe door and found winter, was it not Lucy who refused to be minimized, was it not Lucy who infused the land with good cheer for years after her coronation, was it not Lucy who first cocked her head and said that the land was speaking to them and they must listen?

We think about Lucy, bright Lucy, glittering Lucy, and we know instinctively that Lucy was always the heroine of her own story. What we don’t consider is that in her darkest moments—for Lucy, like us all, was not always bright, no matter how the legends insisted otherwise—she felt at times captive by the winds of fate stirring her hair. Perhaps we are–though we don’t like to admit it—some of the many people in both worlds who looked at Lucy and resented her for having the audacity (the privilege) to fill the pages of her book with her own words without considering how heavy her pen may be.

(Was it really her book, though? Lucy did not deny she wrote her own narrative. She was Lucy the Valiant; she spoke the language of High Narnia, she heard when Aslan called, she commanded the long-dormant trees into existence once more. Lucy was familiar with the power of words. What she objected to was the idea that her life was her very own, that her canvas was blank except for marks of her own making. Dear Lucy, pulled uncomplainingly into heroics, a simple game of exploration leading to death and betrayal and heartbreak (and majesty, and light, and animals that could talk). No; this was not her book but if she had the (mis)fortune to open it she certainly would inscribe her legacy on it herself).

To our credit, we sense what Lucy had always known: she felt as though her role was inevitable. (In boys, we call that responsibility, or heroism). Perhaps that is what we resented. When you are a young girl with golden hair and blue eyes and the lightest smattering of freckles, when you are the baby of the family and coddled and loved dearly, when you are born with an infinite well of self-possession and three protective older siblings, when you believe in your own worth–stepping into the pages of your story and titling it as your own looks like a foregone conclusion from afar.

(Her sister, Susan, struggled with this for many years. Though she was the pretty one, or at least that was what her mother told her, Susan eyed Lucy’s waterfall of blonde hair with envy. Though she was meant to be gentle, Susan watched how animals flocked to her sister first, how even the most timid of creatures lined up to whisper their secrets into Lucy’s ears. This would take Susan a considerable amount of time to overcome, but let us not blame her too harshly. Being a girl is difficult enough; being the other girl in the story is harder still).

But what we do not see, unless we look very closely, is that nothing felt foregone for Lucy. What looks easy from afar was not from within. Lucy chose herself, over and over; she chose to follow the path Aslan lay out for her, and she chose to do so with good humor and kindness as armour against the inherent cruelty of the world, even the magic one.

Of all her siblings, Peter understood this best, though they never discussed it in so many words. Perhaps that is why Peter always trusted Lucy, or at least apologized to her without resentment when she was proven right. The bookends of the family, they were as temperamentally different as any other pair of siblings. Peter sometimes felt blinded by Lucy's incandescent optimism; Lucy at times was weighed by proximity to Peter's practicality.

But both of them understood duty, more so than Edmund, led so easily astray by pleasure, and Susan, who believed (at times to her credit) that the world owed her the same that she owed it. Neither Lucy nor Peter strayed from their tasks, not even when Lucy picked her cold and lonely way down to the shadow of a godly voice, nor when Peter first felt the undeniable weight of his gleaming sword marred by enemy blood. They chose, and they chose again, even when those choices did not feel like choices but inevitabilities.

For when one understands duty, taking one's place as hero is not self-indulgent. It is not privilege; it is a prerogative, and it is difficult. But where Peter found his duty in protection and caregiving, in oversight and the hard labor of daily majesty, Lucy found hers in vision and clarity and momentum. When Susan hesitated over the unknown and Edmund lay sniffling quietly when he thought nobody could hear, Lucy knew that her relentless confidence was as necessary as Peter's guidance.

(This was a burden, too. Who was positive for Lucy? Her siblings tried to be, of course; they loved each other dearly, more so in the following years. But this sense of need never left Lucy, this fear that if she did not smile that nobody else would ever smile again).

Cheerfulness and friendliness can be their own prisons. When you believe in yourself, others are relieved; they need not take on the responsibility of believing in you too. Lucy never allowed herself to stray (save from moments alone in a large, soft bed, save from a magic book that in its pages contained temptation, save from tears that splashed hotly in the cool Narnia wind) all the more rigidly because everyone expected that she never would.

(It takes strength to choose optimism; it takes willpower to respond to situations with cheerfulness. Lucy was valiant even at seven years old, remember. She knew that raising her head high was an act of defiance, she knew believing in her own experience was brave, she knew that daring to rescue a friend from the clutches of an unknown evil was perhaps foolhardy but nevertheless necessary. She may not wield a sword but do not mistake her empathy for weakness).

Beauty and softness can be their own prisons, too. Youth and innocence and loveliness can make you more—it can mark you as worthy to speak to a god-turned-lion, your friendship as worth the threat of eternal damnation—but it invariably means that more is all you are allowed to be. There were days when Lucy fled back to her castle, her nose red and her eyes stinging, her hair twisted into disarray, and wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath a heap of blankets and throw pillows at the door just to prove that she too could be cruel, she too could be wanting. It is no easier to smile when tasked to in Narnia than it is anywhere else.

Sometimes Lucy resented her role as the youngest, the softest, the angel (or was she meant to be the prophet?). She saw Susan notching an arrow to her bow, watched Peter and Edmund joust in the courtyard, and looked down at her glittering bottle of cordial and longed to smash it against the door and take up war instead of peace.

Father Christmas gave her that vial, after all, a children’s story speaking to a child. Her power was limited, finite. Lucy began to use it sparingly, though she would have liked to heal every small hurt that befell a member of her kingdom. Part of her always felt a frisson of fear at the thought that she may one day no longer have the power to heal. Part of her felt anger that even Father Christmas did not think her capable. None of her siblings had gifts of borrowed power.

(Edmund did not get a gift at all, but he was, surprisingly, placid about this slight. He still remembered the enchanting taste of Turkish delight, even years after it last melted on his tongue. He knew that even now he would betray his family for another taste of that wickedness, and that knowledge made him humble. His gift was that he would never be tempted again, and for that, he would trade all the gold in the world).

Let us talk about what it must have cost Lucy, more than her siblings, to return to a world of mundane happenstance. Let us think about her, forced to be seven years old, forced to plait her hair and be seen and not heard and befriend children scarred from years of war. These playmates did not want to be coaxed into the brilliant world of Lucy’s imagination. They did not want to hear of Aslan, they did not want to pretend to be anything they were not. They had survived days or months or years away from their parents, but not in the warm embrace of a magic land; they had been torn from their families by trains and cars leaving in the dead of night, they had been sent to farms where food stretched thin, to towns that covered their windows with black paint and slept six to a bed, heel to head. Magic to them was their father, home from the war, with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes but was nevertheless warm. It was their older siblings, reunited and once again casual monarchs of the family dynamic. It was their mothers chiding them to eat, their friends once again within easy access, the serenity of the night broken only by lorries and not sirens.

Lucy had experienced hardship before, of course. Everything has a balance, after all. When you feel joy deeply, sorrow cuts you to your very core. When you are easily delighted, you understand how ephemeral delight can be. Lucy carried joy with her, of course: the wild exhilaration of Bacchus and his nymphs, how right it felt when her and her siblings rushed out to the parapet to see a brilliant golden sun nestle into the cool embrace of the Narnia forest, the softness of Reepicheep's fur tinged with drops from the sea at the end of the world, how Aslan looked at her and she felt seen. Lucy never shied away from emotion. Lucy was valiant in this too.

But she never forgot the lesson of dear old Tumnus. In Narnia, he was a constant presence in her dining hall. But she never forgot that the cost of her entrance into this glittering world was an innocent creature frozen for daring to take her home for tea. She never forgot that her siblings doubted her, that her youngest brother was led astray by sparkle and glitter. She remembered the silent despair of Caspian searching for his family, Eustace wondering which poor soul he devoured in the guise of a dragon defeating another. To the end of her days, she thought of the quiet dignity and terrible sadness of Lord Rhoop gazing upon the still bodies of his very closest companions, choosing to condemn himself to an endless sleep to be by their side on only the faintest suggestion of hope. Because Lucy was Lucy, she took those feelings into her own and cared for them as she cared for their benefactors.

But in a way, Lucy had not yet experienced loneliness and fear, not like her siblings had, not like these war-torn children. The closest she had gotten were those first few days in the professor’s house where none believed her, or when she walked alone to Aslan in the middle of the night wishing desperately someone would follow. For most of her time in Narnia, however, Lucy was easily, automatically accepted, her majesty unquestioned. In Narnia, she was unique: lovely Lucy, Queen Lucy, friend of centaurs and fauns and nymphs, immortalized in ballads, welcome in badger dens and banquet halls alike. Lucy was Aslan’s favorite, of course–didn’t he speak mostly to her, didn’t he cuddle her in his great and terrible paws? Queen of peace and harbinger of joy.

When she twisted back into an unfamiliar body she expected this world to accept her, too. Yet Lucy was not celebrated in this world; at least not automatically. Susan took one look at her circumstances and tossed her head and vowed to be queen in this life too. Edmund chewed his lip and sighed a little to Lucy but bent his head to his studies, just in case Aslan was wrong and he would be forced to rely on the battles to be won in schoolhouses and universities. Peter raged, in his own way, at the loss of his kingdom, unable to cope with his duty and his purpose and his raison d'être so brutally torn from him.

Lucy tried to talk to the trees, but they ignored her, their bark cool to the touch. She tried to dance in the meadows, but the grass was sharp and covered her legs with rashes. She tried to befriend the dogs at her local shelter but they snapped at her suspiciously. She tried to talk to her peers and hear their stories and stand up for them like she stood up for her subjects but they eyed her with mistrust and laughed at the boundless optimism she tried desperately to embody. This generation of children was not prone to easy positivity, remember. Those in Narnia had been so desperate for help after their long years of winter. Humans, she found, were surprisingly not.

Lucy had never been ignored before. She had never been disliked openly, she had never struggled to make friends. She did not know how to handle girls eyeing her with jealousy or derision, how to process boys that pulled her hair not to flirt but to hurt. Her gentle heart and loving manner had always won her praise and acclaim, but in those brittle years after the war, she was playing a game where she did not know the rules.

She was not able to admit until years later that perhaps this loneliness was good for her. Heroines need strife to grow, even in all the old stories. Lucy could have turned her back on who she was in Narnia; she could have tempered the blaze of her spirit, fell obediently into the ranks of conformity. She could have stemmed the flow of her hope and turned instead to sheer practicality. Was that not what her siblings were doing?

(No, dear Lucy, stubborn to the very end. That was not what they were doing and you should have given them the benefit of the doubt).

In some sort of twist of fate, Lucy did most of her growing in this world, off the pages of the book, trying to decide what was important to her in a world where the rules were more (less) rigid, the values were more (less) prescribed. This was where she became truly valiant, in the mundane manner as well as the majestic. In this world she learned how to listen: quietly and patiently. Here the silent trees aided her, providing a calm and soothing canvas on which a friend could shyly begin to paint her troubles. She learned that being bold and brash could sometimes be selfish instead of brave.

Lucy remembered what it felt like to be seven and ignored. She remembered encountering a fawn risking death for her company, even though she was not yet a decade on this earth. She remembered her own siblings’ gentle condescension. She knew what it felt like to be dismissed. Sometimes you do not want somebody to fight for you. Sometimes you want somebody to help you as you learn how to fight for yourself.

In this world, Lucy learned what it meant to be valiant without pride. She learned how much bravery it takes to be heroine of a story with many other heroines and heroes and warriors and soldiers, that being one of many provides strength. (It reminds her of those old sunny days, playing chess in the courtyard, all her siblings casually, loosely together). In this world, when she lifted her head and smiled warmly, when she woke in the morning and greeted the sun, she did so with optimism she crafted herself, with positivity she forged out of the steel of her spine. She learned you did not have to be in the forefront of a story to blaze in it, that sometimes people did not want love and laughter but truth and honesty and justice. She met her peers’ eyes and they lifted their chins and she made them feel fierce, not protected.

When Lucy thought, years later, of the vial Father Christmas gave her, she realized he was giving her an instrument of her own power. Her ability—her great burden—was that she could not save everyone but she could save many. She had to choose. Lucy was not alone in this; a sword gives one the ability to take a life—but to trade a death for many lives. A bow allows one to even the stakes while remaining aloof, to assign death to others from a great distance. No gift at all forces one to look inside themselves and find the strength that was always there. Magic to heal, like all of these gifts, like all gifts, was meaningless unless one wielded it.

Lucy could have been afraid of indecision; she could have kept her vial locked away or pretended it had run out. She could have used it all within years, saving this generation of her subjects only to damn the next. The choice was hard, sometimes. Sometimes she left the vial behind and had to grasp the hand of a dying soldier and know in her heart that she could have saved him had she only decided to bring it. Sometimes, particularly toward the end, she had it in her pocket but knew she could not use it, that she had to be brave for those ahead as well as those now. These choices were not easy. These choices were her own. Peter, burdened with majesty, had to make choices about who to damn to combat, what was worth fighting for—but he never had to choose who to save. Susan, gentle, had to weigh the many competing demands of the land and decide which to prioritize, strategize how to best achieve her goals, knowing the weight of her kingdom was on her back—but she knew there was always a second choice, always a way to optimize a situation. Edmund, even and fair, had to devise a system of just rule, had to know when to stick to it and when to revise it, even when a friend had to be punished, even when it hurt to be the judge—but he did not have to enforce these laws, only set them.

Warrior, strategist, arbiter, healer: all four Pevensie siblings shouldered their own burdens and supported each other in the heavy task of ruling over many. When three of them returned (when six of them returned) to see their land destroyed, to see a new land created, they remembered those choices and they vowed to uphold them. Lucy had no vial in the kingdom of heaven but that had never been what gave her power. Even in the golden light at the end of the world there were jealousies and anger and injustice and strife. Even in the endless summer of forever there was the chance to be brave.

(Susan, on Earth, mourned her baby sister more than anyone else. Peter had death in the shadows of his eyes since he took a life at thirteen years old and was praised for it. Edmund too seemed to know that he was living on borrowed time. But Lucy, dear Lucy, did not deserve to be struck down so young. Susan had watched her grow into the set of her shoulders and ignite the light in her smile not once but twice. She watched Lucy forge a mortal crown out of sheer determination and optimism and she felt something like awe. She wanted her sister to wear it; she wanted her sister to join her in this brave new world, where women were beginning to display the beauty of their resilience and their wild and clever strength. She wanted to apologize, to admit she too remembered Narnia, that she had not understood the type of strength Lucy drew about her like a warm shawl.

Susan did not know for many years where that fateful train journey took her siblings. She deliberately did not consider Narnia, for why would a land full of kindness and light steal her family senselessly, randomly? (She did not know of their mission, of magic rings, of beasts lurking in the darkness. How could she, when they deliberately did not include her?)

She chose to believe that Lucy and Peter and Edmund were in a land of eternal stillness. Susan remembered those burdens, too, even if the details of Narnia were on some days blurry. It seemed more sad, somehow, to think of her siblings once again wearing their crowns on stone thrones, as if their time on Earth meant nothing.

When she opened her eyes and saw Lucy again, young and royal, she felt at first a deep pang of regret before the relief flooded in).

For Lucy, going to the world after the world of Narnia was not frightening but exhilarating, not limiting but empowering. It did not take long for her to forget what she left behind on her mortal world; they had teased Susan, once, for shutting out remembrances of talking animals and magic dancing along the stone paths. If Lucy remembered that, she might have felt shame, now that the quiet majesty of a row of silent English oaks faded into blurs, that the chatter of her peers became as dim and incomprehensible as squirrels.

But Lucy was never one to look back; she was eager to flip ahead to the new pages in her story, here in a world where the pages had no ending. There were new friends to meet and a kingdom to build and cheers to receive and challenges to fight. Susan would realize this too, one day, joining her siblings in this world beyond the world. Lucy was suited for this, as if she were chosen for this, as if she chose this over everything else she could have chosen.

She wrote her own story, yes, but we should remember that does not mean that all of her words were her own.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Healer!Draco

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 The Four Doors by fluxweed Rated:  Explicit Words:  48845 Tags: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Power Imbalance, Auror Harry Potter, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubious Consent Due To Patient/Healer Dynamic, Mind Fucking (Literally), Not Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Where The Falcons Fly by MyNameIsThunder Rated:  Mature Words:  283177 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Seeker Harry Potter, Quidditch, accidental magic, Blood and Injury, Not Epilogue Compliant, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Post-Hogwarts, Scars, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Whump, POV Third Person Limited, Mutual Pining, Power Couple, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Eventual Fluff Summary:  Where the Falcons fly, there’s blood. Where Draco goes, there usually is too. That’s his job, after all – heal morons and the people who get in their way. He could deal with that, he thinks, if only there wasn’t Harry fucking Potter, Seeker, who gets injured a lot even by the Falcons’ standards and seems to have made a habit of inserting himself in Draco’s private life. Draco just wants to heal people – normal people, that is – and do his research in peace. Well, when does he ever get what he wants? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Better Kind of Love by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated:  Explicit Words:  25768 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, discussion of injuries, Broken Bones, Injury Recovery, Skele-Gro, Physical Therapy, Nightmares, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Quidditch, Masturbation, Rimming, Shower Sex, Locker Room Sex, Semi-Public Sex, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  Harry, along with the rest of the Puddlemere United team, is determined that this year will be the year they finally win the Quidditch League Cup. But when a Bludger-induced fall leads to a missed Snitch, broken bones, and an extended stay in St Mungo's, that conviction is put to the test. If Harry wants to have any chance of returning to the pitch this season he has to put all of his faith in his assigned Healer. Which is no easy task when that Healer is Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Meet Cute by rewmariewrites Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4203 Tags: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry is a Little Shit, Banter Summary:  It may be important to note that Draco Malfoy meets the love of his life when he is twenty-five years old. Well. In the spirit of fairness, that statement is both technically inaccurate and incredibly vague. Draco isn’t just twenty-five years old, when he meets the love of his life, he’s also in his fourth year of the Healing Programme at St. Mungo’s, and this isn't actually the first time they've ever met. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Don't Waste Your Eyes on Jealous Guys by EvAEleanor Rated:  Mature Words:  9667 Tags: MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Roadtrips, Music, Implied Sexual Content, on the bonnet of a car, Pining, jealous boyfriend, mentions of Abusive Relationship (emotionally and verbally), First Kiss, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, Choose Your Own Ending, Touch, hearing, TasteofSmut 2020, First Time, Bittersweet Ending Summary:  For two years now, Harry’s life has been different. Not only does he work in New York City as the Auror liaison to MACUSA on an international murder case, but he’s seen more of Draco Malfoy than he’d ever thought possible. Working with him, and spending time with him after work. During all of this time, Harry has watched Draco going back to his shitty boyfriend over and over again. The worst thing about all of this, he’d fallen in love with him. Maybe there’s hope for Harry though. Maybe for just one night... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All is NOT well... by iStiz Rated:  Mature Words:  65500 Tags: HP: EWE, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slow Build, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Healer Draco Malfoy, Quidditch, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Depression, Substance Abuse, Rehabilitation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Mild Sexual Content, vague sexual content, Happy Ending Summary:  The war may be over but all is NOT well. Harry feels lost, the Ministry is still trying to control him, his friendships with Ron is rocky at best, he doesn't sleep enough, and then there's Draco Malfoy. Things haven't turned out quite the way Harry expected them to, but at least he still has Hermione to help him (and maybe some new friends if he can trust letting them into his life). ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding Rated:  Explicit Words:  71753 Tags: Sleep disorders, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in all honesty this has a bunch of pain, problematic therapist/patient stuff, mind healer!draco, auror!Harry, no seriously the therapist/patient stuff is super problematic but welcome to fanfic, Child Abuse Summary:  Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with. Guaritore Christopher Black is an exceptional psychiatrist with a specialisation in sleep disorders. He is also Draco Malfoy in a Glamour. Minister Hermione Granger knows the dangers and the complications, but she needs her best friend back. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 oxygen by MaesterChill Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4065 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Smoking, Cigarettes, Talking, Breathing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Minor Character Death, A Kiss, Fanart, POV Second Person Summary:  Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Indebtedness by RecIt_Ralph Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  50685 Tags: HP: EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Slow Build, Fluff and Angst, forgiving Harry, Chaptered, My First Fanfic, Swearing, Snark, Eventual Happy Ending, Second Chances, Getting to Know Each Other Summary:  Of all the Healers in all of St Mungo's - why does Harry always end up with Malfoy? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Best Laid Plans by CreateImagineWrite Rated:  Explicit Words:  10105 Tags: Marriage Proposal, Lust Potion/Spell, Secret Relationship, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Barebacking Summary:  He hadn’t intended to be fully clothed with Harry naked at this point, or to have just made him take an antidote to a poison or have had to Incarcerus him to the bed. But they’ve never had a very normal relationship anyways. And damn him if he’s going to let Ginevra Weasley get in the way of him marrying this man. Fourshot. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Iustitia & Prudentia by skeptique Rated:  Explicit Words:  36302 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Mental Health Issues, Everyone is going to Therapy, Taking their Meds, Calling Their Person, Slow Burn, Procedural That's Fairly Light on the Procedural Part, Canon Content Warnings Apply, brief discussion of infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Discussion of Ongoing Food Related Issues, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Canon Typical Violence, Kidnapping, Confinement, Pansexual Theo Nott, Case Fic, Mystery, Draco Malfoy in Glasses, Minor Character Death Summary:  Draco Malfoy’s entire life fell apart after the War. He’s putting it back together as best he can with what is available to him. But Harry keeps interfering and won’t leave him alone. When he agrees to be an Auror consultant to help Harry, is it more than he bargained for? The world shifted under Harry Potter’s feet and he found himself lost and purposeless. He anchors himself in uncovering the truth about a dangerous pureblood terrorist group. Is Draco the key to solving these crimes, or is he a distraction? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Do No Harm by Lokifan Rated:  Explciit Words:  58114 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, HP: EWE, Quidditch, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Recovering From The War And Becoming Better People, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Community: hd_erised, Break Up Summary:  Draco hadn’t planned to end up as team Healer for the Chudley Cannons, but it’s a Healer job, so he’ll take it - and then Potter shows up, the glorious centre-of-attention Seeker, as ever. And someone with a grudge is sabotaging Quidditch teams, and it’s only a matter of time before the Aurors’ eyes turn to Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Prove We're Not in a Rut by gracerene Rated:  Explicit Words:  2140 Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Hogwarts, Healer Draco, POV Harry Potter, Bottom Harry, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Wall Sex, well it's actually against a door, Top Draco, Bottom Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy Summary:  Draco and Harry are not in a rut. Draco sets out to prove it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tell Me the End at the Beginning by harryromper Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  36591 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, St Mungo's Hospital, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Christmas Presents, Christmas Decorations, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Food Hall Turkeys, Advent Calendar, Healer Luna Lovegood, Kreacher, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Yule Logs, Misheard Christmas carols Summary:  St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway. Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas. ❤️ Read on AO3

[whump-town]

Been Having a Hard Time Adjusting

Summary: Alternative to the peaceful homecoming of Emily Prentiss - Aaron Hotchner never truly comes home with her.

Warnings: medical trauma, amputation, scarring, blindness, mental health, hallucinations, and just sad stuff

AN: I have over 9K of this fic written already. I'll warn you all now, it's a painful one.

Part One

The night that he came home from the hospital, more evenly placed stitches, staples, and drugs than man he locked himself out of his apartment. He’d been in the hospital two days, counting the day he’d woken up and the day he left, and unable to stand on his own was escorted out of the hospital in a wheelchair. The timing was perfect. He’d scared JJ and Penelope away, it’s amazing how feeling like death often allows you to look the part. He’d scared them away with his weakness and the anger trying to burn him away. Spencer can’t leave his own hospital bed until his knee has been properly braced but for now, he’s immobile while the swelling from the surgery goes down. Derek is nowhere to be found. It’s too surprising the usual suspects are flaring their heads to tell his “orders” to go fuck themselves.

But on the second day, Strauss had called Emily and Dave both to meetings all day, questioning their behavior and what the next plausible course of action will be for the team. Leaving him roughly seven hours to bust himself out and it’s exactly what he did.

Derek had spent the whole night before fixing his apartment, ripping up the carpet, plastering the wall, and changing and adding locks. As Hotch discovered this, metal scratching metal as his hands trembled unable to even get the old key into the round hole, he’d laughed. Throwing his head back and breaking the stuffy feeling in the hall with its depth and desperation. Laughing that twisted to sobs as he leaned into the door, forehead resting against the wood. Someone had changed the locks. He’d never felt so relieved, so happy to be stuck out in that hall because if he can’t get into the apartment Foyet wouldn’t be able to either.

He’d slid down the wall, head pressed into the doorframe, to rest his temple against the painted wood. He told himself he just needed to rest a moment. He’d rest for a moment and he’d call Derek or Emily or Dave and tell them what he’d done and things would be okay. They’d be angry but someone would take him to a bed, home and he didn’t even care if they were his own. He fell asleep, long legs extended out in front of him and his frame drawn in to stop his stitches from being pulled on. His core was weak and he was in pain but he just needed a second.

A second turned into four in the morning and Derek yelling his name. Peeling his eyes open and finding Derek dropping down beside him, the other man’s warm fingers pressed under his neck checking for a pulse. He’d find one, pounding and rapid but there. His memory of what happened next is hazy, a cloud of Derek talking quickly and being furious. The sound of tears in Derek’s voice as he’d been pulled to his feet, pressed tightly into Derek until they could get into the apartment.

Nothing after that matters. Not Emily’s anger and Dave’s disappointment. The only thing in the world was the feeling of the opposing keys in his hands. The tears that fell down his face when he could look into his palms and see two very different keys. Derek had added more locks, an electric thing that screams and makes his ears hurt but is so loud someone would hear it. That way this would never happen again.

He’d locked himself out a lot after that day. Needed to know the security system worked so he’d take that old key into the hall and sob with relief when he couldn’t get back in. Irrational thoughts and needs like that consumed him and someone was always there to meet those needs as best as they could. No matter the hour, Emily and Derek always showed up to let him back into the apartment with their spare keys. Never met him with an air of annoyance or like he bothered them. They always found him in that hall and mumbled the same promise, “he can’t get you, Hotch.”

And, now, only a year later Emily is out there somewhere. Consumed by those irrational fears born from great desperation and the shattering of her entire sense of security and they aren’t. No one will meet her desperate two a.m. wake-up calls with patience and a spare key to let her back in. She won’t be able to check and double-check because dead women have to play the part and desperation is a characteristic of the living.

He’d taken that away from her. Aaron had taken her life and her security and her family and sent her to another continent to live under an assortment of different names. Isolated her.

He’s finding it impossible to live with himself. With the guilt and the knowledge of how hard it is to cope and move on and live after every sense of security and home has been shattered. She’d been there for him. How many times had she come in the middle of the night because he called? How often did she show up even when he lied, even when he swore he was okay? All so that he wouldn’t have to sit alone in that apartment. Brought snacks and suffocated him in blankets and distracted him with boring movies she loved. Picked at him for his oddities so he could think of anything but his wounds and when he’d needed that she’d given him space. Sat on the other side of the couch in his silence and held his hand.

Now she’s an entire continent away. Dead to the world. Alone. Entirely alone.

Penance, he decides, is the only way to move on from here.

The foreign jobs were always something he and Derek used to scoff at. Not in some idle way that they might be better than the agents (mostly cadets) that take those overseas jobs but because everyone knows the Army chews through feds faster than rats through boxes in an attic. It’s a suicide mission to overtake and he knows that he knows that and he still signs his name on that dotted line.

Emily never went to Pakistan.

On the plane ride over, he tries to dig down and remember all the states she’d once said she had visited in her youth. She’d told him plenty of times, he should know them in his sleep. It’s always what she talked about when she got drunk. A few cups of Dave’s “good stuff” and she’d stretch out over the couch, often placing her head in one of their laps. Drunk is really the only time Emily ever knew how to be affectionate bar all hesitancies.

She’d tick off each place, naming them lazily with a tongue and accent he could never get quite right. His own mouth was too rounded, too rough to get it right. His attempts would make her laugh, the way he’d butcher the syllables with his accent.

He cries. Eyes closed and melted back into the chair.

He knows this is a mistake. Knows that his grief and pain will not dissipate just because he is punishing himself. Instead, he’s furthering everyone else’s. Distancing himself from Reid who is already struggling to grasp hold of this situation. Leaving Derek in charge of a crumbling team. Pulling away from Dave-- it had always been the three of them and now it’s just him. It’s unfair and he knows it is but it’s the only thing he knows. It’s solid and it hurts and it makes more sense, it’s more feasible than anything else.

He has to leave.

He couldn’t tell anyone. Knew too well all he needed was someone to grab his coat-tail, someone to pull him back from the ledge. Turning around isn’t impossible and wiggling out of his contract won’t be that hard because he knows all the right things to say to a therapist. He knows how to make himself look dangerously unappealing to the Army. But he hears Clyde Easter’s words in his head “can you swear that your team will save her”? Feels JJ’s fingers ghost over his hand as she’d told him, and remembers Emily’s dead and it’s his fault. This isn’t about Dave or the team, this is about his penance and it’s what he owes.

It’s too late now. The decision is not even really his to make.

On the plane, pinned in a window seat and knees aching from the cramped space, he thinks about her. The yellow light cast over her features, the weight of her head on his thigh, and Dave pressed into his other side. Smiling until his face hurt and seeing her nails. Remember how high, how warm he’d felt between the two of them. Just Dave and Emily and no monsters to hunt or hurt to protect. Her hand stretched up, how freely she’d laughed.

“Russia,” she’d ticked off. “Romania. Turkey. Israel. Laos.” She’d stopped biting her nails. They were healing.

She’d smirked drunkenly up at him. Dave was getting the car together, the only one of them sober. Liquor always makes her tongue lose, inhibitions lowered and little secrets slipping out. Earlier that week she’d thrown out the soft sentiment that she considered the team her family and they’d agreed to the same but she’d seen the look Hotch made. Knew that glint in his sad eyes.

“You’re my family too,” she’d whispered that night. Her fingers danced just along his chin and he hadn’t flinched, he’d been entirely lost by the sight of her. Giggling and poking his stomach when his only response was to look down at her. “Hate you sometimes,” she’d yawned, “but I like to keep you around. You’re nice and you smell good.”

It’s not what she’d want-- any of this-- but she’s not here to talk him down. That's the bitter part, she's the only person who could talk him down. The only person who seemed to speak through his irrational fear and anger. So it doesn’t matter.

He falls into what he knows.

Penance.

It tastes like the sand, salty and dry. A great never-ending expanse of nothing.

Hotch lets the motion of the Humvee settle him, going bonelessly with the great machine as it plows the road. Behind his sunglasses, arms tucked over his chest, and mouth set into a deep scowl he shuts his eyes. Tries to relax and to take a moment for just himself before he’s thrown back to work. This is entirely something new, different from home. Here they are not a team. Each person has a job and none of them talk to him, they don’t concern himself with him and he doesn’t bother trying with them. He just does his job and tries to hold on.

“Fucking hotter than Hell and half of Georgia,” JR curses, lifting his helmet to swipe at his brow.

Billy sits forward, settling his weight elbows on his knees. “JR,” he says seriously. “What in hillbilly hell does that even mean? I swear, they must have recruited you from some inbred town, didn’t they? Out here hardly able to read and--”

JR hits him hard, the sound jarring and Hotch doesn’t even open his eyes. He doesn’t need to see the two soldiers across from him to know exactly what’s happening. He clears his throat, “knock it off.” JR and Billy are nothing like Reid and Morgan but Hotch thinks about them nonetheless. About the jet and the air conditioners but mostly about Morgan’s relaxed handsome smile and Reid’s long thin legs stretched out for miles ahead of him. Their voices tangling in the late, calm nights into soft laughter.

He’s pulled roughly from his daydream, Billy’s voice breaking his mirage.

“Way to go you dumb fuck, woke up the old man.”

He wants to go home.

The Humvee rocks hard and these things are rough to ride in but there’s a distinct thing-- the hair on his arms stands up. Painfully so. He sits up. “Billy--” he never gets the chance.

He makes it three and a half months in Pakistan, trudging around the desert before the inevitable happens. He’s just a profiler surrounded by foot soldiers, every last one of them is expendable and that’s why the job is so dangerous. They can be replaced by cocky twenty-year-olds and they’ll just force a cadet to do his job. But nearly four months is damn near record-breaking. As the bare skin of his forearms burns in the harsh sun, his blood drying to his face, he wonders if Derek will be proud that he lasted so long. If Derek will know he did try to make it back home.

He tried.

“Hotchner!”

He moves, blood rushing to his head and he can’t hear anything past the sound of his own pounding heart. He pulls himself up on his elbows, choking on the thick smoke and wincing at the feeling of the hot flames licking out dangerously at him. Warning him to get away. He can’t see anything past the thick black smoke of the other Humvee. Nothing past the pool of blood around his left leg, gushing and flowing through the sand. He sees the mangled flesh, his eyes look and he knows and he recognizes the broken, mangled way his left leg sits in the sand but he says nothing. Does nothing.

He looks up to the soldier kicking up sand as she runs towards him. “JR and Billy,” he shouts, moving his left hand over his eyes so he can look in the direction of the soldier. “You need to find JR and--”

The woman, he can see her bun and her hooked nose. She’s only a kid and if he had to admit to liking any of them he’d be okay with naming her. Jamie shakes her head and he’s reminded that she’s just a fucking kid. Some twenty-year-old from a poor school district, too smart for this bullshit. “They’re dead,” she tells him, sinking to her knees in the sand. Her hands tremble, hovering to find a distinct place to hold. A way to stop his rapid blood loss before she’s left here entirely alone. She clamps over his leg and his vision goes black.

Gunshots wake him.

The night is encroaching, the smoke from the ruined Humvees still snaking into the clouds, and he can feel the temperature drop. Trembles, body weakly trying to stay warm. He peels his eyelashes open, caked in blood.

“Hotchner?” Jamie. He can’t open his mouth, his jaw cramped with shivers and convulsions while his body fights futility to keep him warm. He turns his head to see her. She’s pulled her helmet down over her head and she looks afraid. Drowsily, he feels her hands on him. It’s out of body like he’s not really there. “Medics are on their way,” she promises and he feels himself a rock, feels the chills, and her hands. The ground rocks and her attention snaps in the direction of the origin of the motion fear in her eyes as her breath quickens.

His eyes start to drop shut and she shakes him. Between pained hisses, breathless little pants, he’s glad he’s too weak, too tired to fight. Jamie won’t hear him whimper and writhe, he’s too far gone for that. Her palm presses to his cheek, “you have a son?” She knows he has a son. “Tell me about Jack,” she begs. “How old is he?”

He doesn’t even try.

He wishes he could apologize. She shouldn’t be so young. He hates he’s taking away measures of her innocence with each breath he struggles to draw in. The way he’s dying in her arms.

God, she’s so fucking young.

He blinks and the heat of the sun has been traded for the shade of a medic tent. A penlight makes its way across his face, attempting to draw his eyes to focus. With a groan tapering off into a pained moan he moves his hand, fingers just briefly tapping against the light. “Agent Hotchner?” The light burns his eyes but he cracks the left one open, just a sliver of the smoke agitated white of his eye to dart until he can find the doctor. “Agent,” the doctor frowns down at him waiting for Hotch to find him in the sea of movement and loud noises. “Agent Hotchner, you're going into respiratory arrest.” His lips are cyanic, parted limply as he fails to draw in deep breaths. Skin cold to the touch despite the flush creeping up his neck to suggest he might be warm. His brow and chest perspiring heavily, the area at the base of his neck sinking in with each quick, wheezing breath he pulls in.

“I’m going to lower the head of the cot and intu--” the doctor flinches as Hotch’s trembling, cold fingers wrap around his wrist. The Supervisory Special Agent’s lips move but no words come out, just the cracked sound of dry lips touching but the doctor knows well enough what he’s saying. “Agent,” the doctor takes his hand, moving the fingers from their tight grip on his wrist to his own. “Your breathing is rapid and shallow, it’s no longer sustaining your body. It’s why you can’t speak.” The doctor squeezes Hotch’s hand, “you’re tachycardic, your heart is beating too quickly. If you’re not intubated this problem will not abate on its own.” They’re playing with time here, just waiting until his breathing is agonal or stops entirely.

Hotch shakes his head, lips cracking as he gasps. He needs to know where Jamie is.

But they are Army docs and their job has nothing to do with his hesitation. With his preoccupations.

A doctor with long, cold fingers tilts his neck back. Manipulating his jaw open. Aaron looks up at the younger man, vision spotting as the drugs in his body take effect. He’s lost, drowning in memories of years far away. The water crashes over his head, inky black tendrils wrapping around his ankles to dunk him back down.

He thinks of Spencer Reid. Standing in his kitchen with the genius leaning close. The soft, familiar weight of his voice mumbling through Hotch’s weary bones. The way he can nearly hear him now, recall the exact sounds of his voice and that distinct little sway and playful patter of Spencer’s body when he’s happy. Hotch has never been an excellent or even very good cook but he always tries and he remembers the day in question Spencer had come over to learn how to cook pasta. Spencer hates sauces, tomato-based ones are too acidic but he also just doesn’t like the consistencies. So Hotch had spent hours looking for the perfect recipe.

He thinks about Penelope Garcia. The very first time she got sick and he found her crying in her office, trying to soothe her ailments with over-the-counter products. Having convinced herself that he’d send her to prison in a heartbeat for missing a single day. A few weeks before the whole Doyle incident, she’d come into his office two hours late for a meeting they were supposed to have. A cookie in one hand and a coffee in the other to butter him and then attempt to distract him. Even asked about a doctor’s appointment she had to have hacked into some database to have known he had that morning. Things change…

They change so quickly.

Two federal agents leave home.

Only one comes back.

[crystalirises]

The Love of Fools

I smile... knowing I have never read Romeo and Juliet and have no plans to read Romeo and Juliet.

Listen. I know it's a tragedy and all, but it still has focus on the romance and I just don't like reading romantic stories. They're not my cup of tea. Because of this, the one I wrote may not be Romeo and Juliet in particular... it has some elements of it, but it's not a Romeo and Juliet AU. I tried.

...Also I changed my username... yay XD

TW: Major Character Death, War, Blood, Violence, Double Suicide, and Talk of Suicide

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/81467140

Fundy closed the heavy oaken doors behind him, breathing in the fresh night air, the collar of his suit biting into the skin of his neck. His sensitive ears picked up the soft lull of violin music within the ballroom, their family’s guests lost in a world of waltz and merriment. He picked at his collar, loosening it to give him but a quick moment to breath. Amongst the festivities, he could faintly hear his father’s low whispers. Fundy shook his head, making his way towards the railing of the balcony, decorated with tulips. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

“I don’t know who Romeo is, but I’m quite the Dream, don’t you think?” He tried not to giggle the moment he caught a glimpse of a red rose floating above the banister. His fingers curled around the stem, flincing the moment he touched an uncut thorn. Blood coated the green, dripping before landing against a white porcelain mask. Dream’s masked face appeared, hands grasping the vines that grew around the rails before finally climbing over the balcony. Fundy concealed his bleeding finger, not wishing to worry Dream. It was a rare moment for them both, after all. Dream moved the mask so that it was resting on those blonde curls that shone like the finest gold, green eyes that seem to hold the vast and lush forest stared at Fundy with such love that he couldn’t help but lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lover’s lips. “I missed you.”

“As do I.” They parted, their kiss lingering in the air. It was quick, a moment to last until their next meeting. It was all they could afford, that short time when the world melted away. When Fundy was not the Crown Prince of L’Manburg and Dream was not the leader of the Essempian Rebellion. For that brief moment, they were both two star-crossed lovers, longing for the other with all their heart and soul. Dream reached for his hand, lacing them together before they turned to look out into the night sky. Fundy rested his head against Dream’s shoulder, relaxing in the warmth of his love. Dream’s eyes twinkled with starlight, the stars shining against the green. If Dream held the silver of the moon in his eyes, Fundy held the gold of sunlight. It was a strange characteristic for them to share. Dream with his hair of gold, and Fundy with his fiery red hair that had streaks of silver. They were both the sun and moon. “How bold of you to show tonight.”

“And miss an opportunity to see you? Might as well take a dagger to my heart.” He refrained from rolling his eyes, it would be unbecoming, even if he was free to act as himself around Dream. He looked down at their entwined hands, a smile crossing his face. Dream followed his gaze, chuckling before rubbing Fundy’s knuckles with his thumb. He could see that there was a new scar on the back of Dream’s hand, gained from the many battles that he’s no doubt found himself in. In a better world, Fundy would have preferred that his heart had chosen a man who wouldn’t scare him so. However, what world would that be? And why would Fundy ever give up the man he actually loves? “You, on the other hand, should be inside… with all the fancy folk.”

“You’re right, I can’t imagine the interesting topics I’m missing by being with you. All that talk of politics, proposals, and marriages. You’re right, I should head inside.” Fundy winked, slowly slipping his hand from Dream’s hold. The man pouted, reaching for his hand again before pulling him back. He giggled, leaning against Dream’s chest. His free hand had caught itself on Dream’s chest, right above his heart. Beneath his fingertips, he could hear his love’s heart, its steady beat making him quite dizzy with the thought that they were here. That they were alive. He took their intertwined hands, pressing a kiss to the scar on Dream’s hand. “They have nothing to say that could ever pique my interest. You… Well, you’re very interesting. So… mysterious. So…”

“Entertaining?” His nose scrunch up at the word, Dream chuckling at his sudden glare. If he wanted entertainment, Fundy would have sought out any of his three uncles. Uncle Tubbo was fun to be around, for they both shared an interest in redstone and animals. Uncle Tommy was argumentative, but he made for great conversation. Uncle Techno was filled with stories of his own and with knowledge of the myths, there was no moment where he felt bored to be around his uncle. Dream was not entertainment. Fundy had no proper word to describe him yet, but he’d find one. He just knew that Dream made him feel like he wasn’t who his father and everyone else expected him to be. “I know. I know. You don’t see me as another trinket to amuse yourself with. Still, to be with me is to incite danger. What would your father say if he ever found out—”

“He would be too furious to say anything. You would have pushed him beyond words, beyond reason. I dare say, he’d have your head if he were to ever find out. And… perhaps, I may never see the light of day again.” That may be an exaggeration, but with his father, Fundy could never know how he might react. To argue with him was to be like punching a great oaken tree. It would hurt, and it would be nearly impossible to get through. Ever since his father became the king, he’s been under a lot of stress. Fundy couldn’t fault him, after all, he loved his father. Yet he would like to go a day without his father intruding upon his privacy to ensure that Fundy wasn’t climbing a tree or scamming someone out of their money. Both were very unbecoming for a Crown Prince. Dream winced beside him, and Fundy had to wonder why he still remained by his side. “You know, many a suitor have left me in favor of their lives. Why are you so different?”

“Now, I do value my life and would rather not be brutally murdered by Wilbur.” For a moment, Dream glanced down at his hand, and Fundy knew it was no ordinary soldier that had wounded him. Fundy pressed another kiss against the scar, wishing that he had been born with the gift of a healer. But that was not what fate dealt him. He was an inventor. Like how Dream was a leader. It was what they were given in, it was their life’s destiny. Yet, destiny had allowed them to meet despite all odds. Or perhaps - and it was odd to think of, but he’d thought it through ever since he met Dream - that destiny was what they made it to be. “But I love you more than life or death.”

“Don’t be so careless, death and life are not matters that should be taken lightly.” Fundy was taught to be careful with his words, a talent he’d used to trick people, much to his father’s disappointment. Death and life were ideas that one did not trifle with in such a calm and joking manner. It was no secret that his grandfather had somehow gained favor with the Goddess of Death, and Fundy would not wish to disrespect his grandmother, wherever she may be. However, it would be a lie to say that his heart didn’t skip a beat at Dream’s declaration. His rebel always knew how to make him blush. He shouldn’t be happy with his lover’s words. What good were they when everything was stacked against them? Regardless of life or death, they were not meant to be. “You don’t mean that. What we have, it cannot go on forever. We cannot possibly be—”

“Then hear my proposal.” Dream squeezed his hand, reaching to hold both his hands in his own. Fundy held his breath, his head heavy with euphoria and trepidation. There was a genuine gleam in Dream’s eye, one that made Fundy wish to either retreat inside or pull Dream into a kiss to cut him off. He liked what they had. He wasn’t sure he could handle any change that was about to come. “Run away with me. Far from your family’s expectations, away from the coming war.”

“You would abandon your people and you ask me to abandon mine?” His breath caught in his throat. What was one to say to such a proposal? What could he say that wouldn’t somehow damage any of his relationships or hurt anyone in the end? What should he say? Fundy lowered his gaze, sweat dripping down the sides of his neck. His destiny hung in what he was to say. He thought of both outcomes. If he were to run, perhaps he and Dream could move far away where no one would ever find them. Yet would his father let them live in peace? Would he not hunt them down? Would he not be breaking his father’s heart if he were to run without so much as a goodbye? If he were to stay, he’d incite Dream’s hate. Then, he’d lose his only love. He may never see Dream again if he were to refuse. Fundy trembled, “Dream, you know I can’t just—”

“Little champion?” They both froze, a knock at the door sending both of them into a momentary panic. The door creaked open, but Fundy quickly lunged towards it, slamming against it with a thud. He could sense his father’s surprise and concern, the door moving against his hold. Dream strayed towards the shadow, hiding behind Fundy. He tried not to giggle as Dream’s breath tickled the back of his neck. He couldn’t be caught dead with a suitor, much less Dream. His father’s fingers appeared within his vision, the man pushing even more against Fundy. “Fundy, what’s wrong? You know you shouldn’t be alone. We live in quite a dangerous time, my son.”

“I know. I was just… taking in a bit of fresh air.” He leaned against the door, putting all of his weight while Dream tried to help him fix his collar. Dream’s nimble fingers grazed against his skin, causing him to shiver at how cold Dream’s hands really were. He felt the door jolt behind him. “I’ll be inside in a minute. Just… just wait! Dad, wait! I’ll be in a minute! Just wait!”

Dream rolled his eyes, a cheeky grin appearing on his face. He adjusted his mask, but not before pressing a kiss against Fundy’s lips. It was enough of a distraction for him to stop guarding the door. His father burst through the door, but by that time, Dream had long since disappeared.

Fundy could only stare at his father, the man confused as to why his son seemed so flustered.

---

Perhaps this was destiny. Fundy chuckled, nearly choking on his breath. The dusty blue sky was above them, the sun high on the sky. He could feel Dream beside him, their hands intertwined with one another’s while they listened to the war wage on around them. It had been a mistake to exile Dream, not because he loved him, but because Fundy knew Dream’s friends and family wouldn’t take it lightly. The independence war had come and gone, with a bit of convincing from his side, the Essempy had been granted independence. Then Tommy had gone and incited a bit of a feud with Sapnap, needless to say, he’d nearly lost an uncle that day. His family couldn’t handle the outrage and slander that had caused, so Dream had to bear the punishment. He hadn’t seen his lover in years, and yet now here they were, right about to fall into Death’s kind embrace.

“You are a fool.” Fundy swallowed, the poison he had ingested had begun to burn his throat. His body was a shivering mess, his skin cold to the touch despite the heat that was spreading throughout him. Dream laid by his side, blood flowing from his stomach. He could see the dagger nearby, his lover’s blood still on it. If he’d known that Dream would follow him to death, he would have chosen to run away with him all those years ago. He caught Dream’s smile, a piece of the broken porcelain mask laid near his lover’s head. He wasn’t sure where the mask had gone. “You have your life. You have your future. Why would you willingly chase after me?”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part." Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, their vows echoing in his mind. It had been a quick wedding, one that may never be honored by the gods, but what mattered was that they had vowed to be with one another no matter what may come. Dream moved closer, his face turning pale with each second that passed. Fundy forced himself to move, his heart growing heavier and heavier, threatening to stop at any moment. They didn’t stop moving until they were face to face, their eyes staring into the other’s, their entwined hands laid in between them. He wished he could move closer, but his strength had forsaken him. Dream pressed a kiss against his hand. “But I love you more than life or death. So, I shall follow you.”

“You absolute fool.” Fundy laughed despite the pain, closing his eyes against the tears that fell past his cheeks. He pulled at their hands, resting his head against them. He had wondered for many nights when he’d see Dream again, when he’d be able to hold him in his arms. He hadn’t known that it’d only be in the precipice of death that they’d meet again. Perhaps, Fundy was the fool. He’d taken the poison first, Dream had merely followed with the blade. If he had known that Dream would come for him, then he wouldn’t have given himself into despair. He’d led them to their death. “I’m sorry. You deserve to live, if not for yourself then for me. I’m sorry.”

“These past few years have been torture. My loneliness and despair consumed me, but it was the thought of you that kept me alive.” Dream shook his head, his eyes misting over with tears. Fundy felt the injustice of it all. Their only crime had been love, must death be the punishment? If only they could hold onto each other for just a little longer. But as is their fate, they could only ever have the small moments. “You will not abandon me on this cruel earth. I shall go with you.”

“Then together we shall go.” They were both fools. Fundy was a fool for giving up too easily, and Dream was a fool to follow him in his mistake. His mind was beginning to numb, his breath getting harder to catch. Dream’s eyes had shut close, his brow creased in pain. There was nothing to be done to save them now. They’ll die here, together. “I… I know what you are to me now.”

“I’m not your entertainment? Here I thought I impressed you enough to amuse you for the rest of your days.” Dream weakly laughed, the afternoon sun glinting off his dull blonde hair. Fundy wished he could see his lover’s eyes once more, but the moment had passed, he must be content with staring at Dream’s face instead. He’d memorize it, burn it into his memory that even death wouldn’t be able to make him forget his love. He’d hold on, even if he was reborn into a new world, into a new life. He never wanted to forget. “What am I to you…? What was I to you?”

“You are the blue sky. You are the fleeting light of day. You are the stars of the night.” Fundy giggled despite himself, despite the darkness that was beginning to crawl into his fading vision. He heard Dream’s hitched breath in his ear. It wouldn’t be long now. “You are freedom.”

He closed his eyes, content to feel Dream’s hand in his. It was strange, to think that they may have never met if Fundy hadn’t turned at the right moment. It had been another ball, his father too occupied with one of the guests to monitor where Fundy wandered off to. He had been having a conversation with one of the many other nobles, when a glint in the corner caught his eye. Fundy had glanced over, surprised to find a lime blur disappearing into the crowd. No one would be caught dead in such a bright color. Fundy had followed, then he met the love of his life.

He could hear his grandmother’s voice in his ear now. He’d met her two times in his short life, those moments brief and soothing, but now he could feel a bit of fear. Dream squeezed his hand, and Fundy took a breath. He wasn’t alone. With his sensitive ears, he could hear the faint approach of footsteps, his father’s low whispers through the explosions. He could hear a few of Dream’s friends as well. His heart ached for them. Dream and Fundy never said their farewells.

Fundy choked back a sob.

He couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

He didn’t want to die and forget.

Fundy forced a smile to his face, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Dream whispered, “Then may we meet again in the next life, and fall in love all over again.”

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

Clarification: In this world, L'Manburg is the country that rules over the land, and the Essempy is the one that is the rebelling country. Unlike L'Manburg, however, instead of the whole Pogtopia Arc, it just skipped straight ahead to the New L'Manburg Arc in which they have a new country but someone is getting exiled because someone got pissed.

Yeah, Dream was exiled (because Romeo was exiled) and I know Juliet devised the whole poison-coma thing because she didn't want to marry Paris but I didn't know how to put such a concept in this. So, instead, Fundy was devastated that he may never see Dream again and with the waging war with the Essempy, he just decided to commit suicide. Dream comes back during said war, finds Fundy and realizes that Fundy drank a poison that cannot be cured (shhh I know Minecraft mechanics don't work like that but shush). So he also commits suicide by stabbing himself with a dagger.

... yeah...

(Also yes I know the deaths are reversed cause Romeo was the one who drank the poison and Juliet was the one who stabbed herself with the dagger. I just felt the need to reverse the death because Fundy actually drank poison to kill himself. So... yeah...)

This is not for the faint of heart.

[basilisklist]

harry/tom (m/m)

“Dance with the Devil” by Driverpicksthemooseic (Ratkinzluver33)

(64,057 words) in progress

horcrux tom

harry/tom (voldemort)

“‘I'm not here to hurt you, Harry. Quite the opposite, in fact. I wish to help you.’”

“(OR, Horcrux!Tom helps Harry restore Voldemort's sanity and unite his soul.)”

Dance with the Devil - Chapter 1 - Driverpicksthemooseic (Ratkinzluver33) - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“If you whisper to death it whispers back” by Lytri

(18,101 words) in progress

time travel

harry/tom

“The Final Battle went far worse than expected, leaving Harry alone in the aftermath. Desperate, he performs a ritual to go back in time, just not as himself. However, the time he ends up in is far from what he intended. Unsure of what else to do, he finally decides to go back to Hogwarts. Tom Riddle is instantly obsessed.”

if you whisper to death it whispers back - Chapter 1 - Lytri - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“A Dangerous Game” by Cybrid

(263,533 words) in progress

horcrux tom

harry/tom

“Tom Riddle opens the Chamber of Secrets in Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts. After a botched attempt to extract the Horcrux in Harry’s scar leaves their souls tied together, Tom is forced to kidnap him when he makes his escape.”

“A story of Horcrux hunting, adventure and unwilling attraction.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059681/chapters/60993925?view_adult=true

“Son of Magic” by PurplePebbles

(156,481 words) in progress

time travel

harry/tom

“After decades of war, the world is on the brink of destruction, with no hope for survival. The only way to go on is to travel back in time and change everything that's gone wrong, starting with Tom Riddle. That's how Harry Potter found himself in 1941, a time he had hoped never to find himself in again. Why 1941? Death has a pretty messed up sense of humour, that's why.”

Son of Magic - Chapter 14 - PurplePebbles - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Custodarium” by Tina48

(73,149 words) complete

time travel

harry/tom

“The war is over and the Wizarding Britain has been slowly rising from the ashes. Harry just wishes none of it ever happened – what will he do when he’s given a chance to change the past? Was Dumbledore right about ‘the power he knows not’ after all?”

Custodarium - Chapter 1 - Tina48 - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Meant to Be” by phoenixmaiden13 (LadyPhoenix)

(141,197 words) in progress

harry/tom

“One Night of passion leads to drastic consequences that changes the war completely. Harry must go into hiding to protect himself and his most guarded secret. But will that secret bring Harry and Tom together?”

Meant To Be - Chapter 1 - phoenixmaiden13 (LadyPhoenix) - Harry Potter - Fandom

“Wear Me Like A Locket Around Your Throat” by VivyPotter

(221,010 words) in progress

time travel

harry/tom

“‘This is Mr Riddle, one of our Slytherin prefects. I’m sure he’ll make you feel right at home. Mr Riddle, this is Harrison Peters. He’s just been sorted into Slytherin and will be joining you in sixth year,’ Dumbledore announced jovially, though Tom could see that sliver of constant suspicion in his gaze that had never quite faded.”

“‘Harry,’ the boy hurried to correct. ‘Just Harry.’”

“And then he stuck his hand out. How… plebeian, Tom noticed with delight. Walburga would probably faint.”

Wear Me Like A Locket Around Your Throat - Chapter 1 - VivyPotter - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Exhibit A” by WereBunny87

(57,502 words) complete

harry/tom

“Harry Potter has been gone for some time. When he returns he's covered from head to toe in bandages and appears cold as ice. Only a few people know what's been happening to the one time boy wonder...and some of them will live to regret ever being a part of his pain. He'd make sure of it.”

Exhibit A - Chapter 1 - WereBunny87 - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“The Explosion” by orphan_account

(77,000 words) in progress

time travel

harry/tom

“Usually, in other Fics, Harry goes to the past, meets an older or same age Tom in Hogwarts, and is sorted into Slytherin. Harry is usually there to change Tom and Tom is a ‘teenage Dark Lord.’ In THIS Fic, Tom is a bullied 3rd year, believed to be a Mud-blood, and has his first ever crush on Henry Peverell, the 6th year Gryffindor, who is not there to change Tom, but rather...”

The Explosion - Chapter 1 - orphan_account - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Times of Peace” (2 part series) by conquerorofheaven

- Times of Peace (40,305 words) complete

- Times of Change (61,851 words) in progress

time travel

harry/tom

Times of Peace- “Harry is drinking his life away as usual. Suddenly, he's back in the past, 1943 to be exact. Harry's given a whole new chance at life as Harrison Evans and this time he's not planning on saving anyone.”

“Unfortunately, the Potter luck strikes again and Harry's sucked back into the conflict and face to face with one Tom Riddle. Somehow the more he tries to stay away the more entangled he gets.”

Times of Change- “Harry is still in the past and Tom Riddle is still as persistent as always. This time though, Harry won't get away with pretending to be weak. His secret's out and Tom has made it his mission to figure out his others as well.”

Times of Peace - conquerorofheaven - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Again and Again” by Athy

(334,615 words) in progress

time travel

harry/tom

“The Do-Over Fic - a chance to do things again, but this time-To Get it Right. But is it really such a blessing as it appears? A jaded, darker, bitter, and tired wizard who just wants to die; but can't. A chance to learn how to live, from the most unexpected source.”

Again and Again - Chapter 1 - Athy - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Aware.” by sfk

(160,171 words) in progress

alternative universe, no magic

harry/tom

“There are so many fanfics about heartless mob bosses. This is one of them. Only this one kind of falls in love.”

Aware series - sfk - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“The Rise of a Dark Lord” by LittleMissXanda

(239,985 words)

harry/tom

“Dumbledore was sure he had made the right choice. Ten years later Harry shows him just how wrong he was. With little regard for most, Harry makes a name for himself at Hogwarts, and shows everyone that he is far more than just the BWL. In doing that he attracts the attention of the Dark Lord, making Voldemort believe that the Boy-Who-Lived could be far more than an enemy.”

The Rise of a Dark Lord Chapter 1: The BoyWhoLived, a harry potter fanfic

“Kitties and Crowns” by Lillyleaf101

(63,816 words) complete

Harry goes to school with tom but not time travel

harry/tom

“Fifth year Harry Potter was known only for being the outcast, mudblood of Slytherin and also an immense bookworm, while sixth year Tom Riddle was of course the most popular kid in school. Harry however had never much liked Riddle, watching him like a hawk...he was probably the only kid in school who would not bow down at Riddles feet... Which is surprising seeing as Harry has a HUGE secret crush on him. So what is in store for these two very different yet so very alike boys?”

Kitties and Crowns - Chapter 2 - Lillyleaf101 - Harry Potter - Fandom

“The Fox and The Stag” (2 part series) by KaedeRavensdale

- Praeclarus Anguis (171,641 words) complete

- Argenti Vulpi (96,761 words) complete

time travel

horcrux tom

harry/tom

Praeclarus Anguis- “‘Tell me Harry, if I were to tell you that you could go back in time and prevent one event of your choice from ever occurring would you do so?’”

“Go back in time? A chance to change the past for a better future? ...At once Harry knew what he would do. ‘I would stop Tom Riddle from ever becoming Voldemort.’”

Argenti Vulpi- “Dumbledore is dead, five Horcruxes remain scattered across Wizarding Britain and the only real tool they have to destroy them now rests in the hands of the enemy: worse yet, Voldemort may be slowly catching on to who Tom really is...the truth of what happened that horrible night in Godric’s Hollow is at last revealed. The Dark Lord and the Chosen One race towards their final confrontation, and when that time comes both Harry and Tom stand to lose everything that ever mattered to either of them.”

The Fox and The Stag - KaedeRavensdale - Harry Potter - JK Rowling  

“Turn Back 53” by Kefalion

(126,255 words)

harry/tom

“It's the summer after Harry's sixth year. Voldemort is close to taking over and things are becoming real. On the night of his seventeenth birthday Harry gets a time-turner that can be used to travel 53 years back in time. Without thinking it through too much Harry decided to use it.Back in 1944 he starts a new life, a life where he will do anything to make sure that Voldemort never rises to power. Part of the plan is to get close to Tom Riddle who will attend his seventh year at Hogwarts along with Harry. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, just don't become too close.”

“Will Voldemort's rise to power, and answers the question about who will change who. Will Tom see the light or will Harry descend into darkness? And just how tightly bound are Harry and Tom?”

Turn Back 53 Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic

“Castle of Glass” by ChibiTsukiHikari

(20,144 words)

time travel

master of death

harry/tom

“A chance to change the past, who wouldn't take the opportunity given the choice? All he had to deal with was a unfortunately devilishly handsome teenage Tom Riddle and his inner circle of baby death eaters. What could possibly go wrong? Especially with Death looming over his shoulder at every turn quite literally mind you. Who was he kidding? This was going to be a complete disaster!”

Castle of Glass - Chapter 1 - ChibiTsukiHikari - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Can’t Break the Silence” by Dark_Cyan_Star

(100,291 words) complete

teacher/student

harry/tom

“Harry’s a Magus, the problem is, he doesn’t want that power and desperately tries to hide his talent. Professor Riddle, a rising Dark Lord, sees through him and tries to court Harry away from Quidditch and into Wizarding politics.”

Can't Break the Silence - Chapter 1 - Dark_Cyan_Star - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Mors et Tempus” by Madriddler

(135,931 words)

time travel

harry/tom

“Scared about the coming war, Harry went to the Astronomy Tower to reflect. Magic, it seemed, has another plan and Harry has swept away from his present and landing right into Hogwarts in 1943. Stuck in Riddle's time, and now under the name of Harry Peverell, Harry must do his best to keep under the radar of Time. However, it seems that Tom Riddle has other plans, and wants the boy for his own.”

Mors et Tempus - Chapter 1 - Madriddler - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“A Change of Heart and Mind” by Tiswabley

(89,457 words) abandoned

time travel

harry/tom

“Harry didn't expect to run into a familiar face on the way back from an errand for his aunt, the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts. He really didn't enjoy running into Malfoy Senior, either, regardless of the circumstances. Of course, being an active Death Eater, Harry anticipated the man's attack.”

“What he didn't anticipate was the vial spilled all over him, golden sand-like liquid sinking into his skin. When he woke up, well. That was something else entirely. Harry Potter is thrown back in time to the 1940s, right before his sixth year at Hogwarts, and during the same year Tom Riddle would be attending HIS sixth year. What follows are plenty of revelations, more questions than can be answered in that time period, and the potential to meet a group of people who care about him for more than just his fame.”

A Change of Heart and Mind - Chapter 1 - Tiswabley - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“When in Rome” (2 part series) by XblackcatwidowX

- When in Rome (164,267 words) complete

- When in Rome II: The Lost Children Connection (54,988 words)

time travel

harry/tom

When in Rome- “When Harry and Hermione inadvertently tumble half a century into the past, they find themselves in the same year as the notorious Head Boy, Tom Riddle. Both Harry and Hermione's courage will be tested when they are confronted by chances of romance from the most unexpected of places, and unlikely enemies hiding in the tallgrass.”

“Lost in the past, they may well forget the way home.”

When in Rome II: “A year has passed since Harry returned to the present day. Voldemort’s empire is growing, but Harry remains set on saving the man he knows to be Tom Riddle. When unexpected circumstances lead him back down the rabbit hole of the past, he discovers the world to be a far less forgiving place than he remembers, and Tom is a completely different person from the one he left behind. With an empire to tear down and old and new faces to confront, it’s impossible to know who to trust.”

When in Rome - Chapter 1 - XblackcatwidowX - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Love They Haven’t Thought Of Yet” by Snoweylily

(84,541 words)

student/teacher

harry/tom

“Boy Who Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Defeater of Grindelwald, never received his Hogwarts Letter. Five years later, a 16-year-old Harry Potter is found on the streets of London and immediately sent to Hogwarts, where he catches the eye of one Professor Tom Riddle. When Harry is sorted into Slytherin, well... that just makes things a whole lot easier for him, doesn't it?”

Love They Haven't Thought Of Yet - Chapter 1 - Snoweylily - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Moments in Time” by Watermelonsmellinfellon

(46,858 words)

harry/tom

“Tom Riddle thought he was dreaming the first time, but when he repeatedly visits the same boy, he realizes that bigger things are at work. He watches the boy in the cupboard grow from a small child and into a young man. His brotherly affections begin to wane. What will he do when the boy isn't so little anymore? Could he even imagine? Those Avada eyes calling to him.”

Moments in Time - Chapter 1 - Watermelonsmellinfellon - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“If Them’s the Rules” by MayMarlow

(214,040 words)

time travel

adopts tom

harry/tom?

“Unable to accept the aftermath of the war, Harry decides to travel back in time to become the parent Tom Riddle obviously should have had. Except that things don't go as planned and Harry finds himself part of a game with hidden rules, trying to survive while raising a boy whose understanding of family has nothing to do with love.”

If Them's the Rules - Chapter 1 - MayMarlow - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“I Will Always Come Back To You” by Watermelonsmellinfellon

(30,633 words)

reincarnation

harry/tom (voldemort)

“Tom had a friend when he was little. His friend taught him that he was special because of what he could do and that people who hated him, were beneath him. When an accident occurs, Tom's friend promises that he'll never truly be gone. Hadrian always comes back to Tom, in the forms of Haraldr, Harish, and finally, Harry. Magic grants wishes.”

I Will Always Come Back To You - Chapter 1 - Watermelonsmellinfellon - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“The Hidden Abyss” by AmicablePandemonium

(33,893 words)

harry/tom

“Being able to communicate with Tom Riddle in his mind from an early age, Harry quickly learns the truth about Dumbledore and death of his parents. Join Harry as he helps bring about the fall of the Light.”

The Hidden Abyss - Chapter 1 - AmicablePandemonium - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Sweet Darkness” by BerryMoon

(106,489 words)

harry/tom

“Harry had enough of all the betrayals and abandonments. So when an unexpected ally turns-up and offers help out of a sticky situation he decides to accept. Really, it's not like things could get any worse.”

Sweet Darkness - Chapter 1 - BerryMoon - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Forsaken (Old, being rewrote)” by CrossTheCrossedPerson

(127,876 words)

master of death

time travel

harry/tom

“Harry was forsaken his whole life, nothing ever stayed the same and if it did it endangered or hurt Harry in some way shape or form. This revolves in all things, and his pass with fortune ends when after he finally destroys Voldemort, a Death Eater decides to murder him. Death is unhappy with Harry being his master, but acknowledges Harry never had a chance of anything but a horrible life. Granting Harry with his full amount of power with no compulsions, Death sets him up to go to Hogwarts in 1940s where he can truly discover who he is.”

Forsaken (Old, being rewrote) - Chapter 1 - CrossTheCrossedPerson - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Deathly green eyes” by Smolangryslytherin

(177,850 words)

time travel

harry/tom

“They keep their eyes on the body. They jerked back when it moved again. A small and pale hand went to the blade, and it was retired from the open wound, blood rushing out of the cut; they stayed still as it whined again, a curse parting from his lips. He sat slowly, head hanging forward, face covered by the long locks of black hair dripping the black substance on the floor. The only sound was the drops of black ooze on the marble floor. They walk away from the grumbling body, until one bumps into a table, the wooden object making a harsh racket against the floor.”

“Hadrian’s face turns to them, green eyes shining in the gloomy room like lanterns. or Harry kills himself and instead of doing bye-bye, Death throws him back to the past because he is bored. or Harry, now Hadrian, is a sweet murderous child and Tom Riddle is a simp.”

Deathly green eyes - Chapter 1 - Smolangryslytherin - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Better Be” by Assapanick

(61,588 words)

horcrux tom

harry/tom

“Draco thinks it’s rubbish that people suspect Harry is the Heir of Slytherin, but that doesn’t mean he won’t use that to his advantage. Harry? He’s all alone now, unable to face his friends. Lucky for him, he’s found a Diary that he can confide in.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184567/chapters/37819562

“I Have Seen Your Heart” by Arliene

(41,860 words) complete

harry/tom

“The arrival of his nemesis is the least of Harry Potter's problems. Now that the war is over, he finds himself drifting away from all that held him together in the past, trying to find a new purpose in his life. Being framed for murder forces Harry to be on the run and this time the only company he takes with him is Tom Riddle. The young Dark Lord faces a future he did not expect, meets an oddity who killed everything he strived to be. And yet he finds himself obsessed with his murderer, a determined man searching for answers and reaching for the sky once more. Harry Potter's purpose and Tom Riddle's destiny, seemingly entwined. They say change is overrated. But choice is everything.”

I Have Seen Your Heart

“Not Strong Enough” by Sayon_170

(85,319 words)

harry/tom

“Even at the age of five Tom was a great manipulator. He knew what to do to get what he wanted, and right then he wanted to get out of the orphanage and be with Harry. A promise of love, care, and protection from a beautiful man that wanted him, enticed Tom. If anyone were going to have Harry and the love he offered, it would be him. Harry was too overjoyed at Tom’s acceptance to notice the possessive look in Tom's eyes nor the sharp nails that dug into Harry's neck like fangs trying to latch onto Harry, marking him as his own.”

Not Strong Enough - Chapter 1 - Sayon_170 - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“I Waited For You, In The Shadows Of Time” by watchingvfall_n_drown

(120,090 words) complete

time travel

harry/tom(voldemort)

“In a twist of fate, Harry is stranded in a time when Grindelwald has just been defeated and the  First Wizarding War hasn't begun yet. Desperate for answers, he still has the presence of mind to keep himself hidden from all, especially the power figures of the Wizarding World. And then all his carefully built hope and shelter shatters one day, in the shores of the black lake.”

“Formerly Tom Riddle, now Voldemort comes upon one that captures him with their beauty and magic, stroking the inevitable desire. Like all the pretty things he has collected, this will be no different. Unfortunately for him, his newest obsession has a will of its own and no intention of quietly acquiescing.”

“Will Harry be able to find a way home? Or a reason to stay? And will the Dark Lord find more than a desire to possess in his heart? Even as the two fated ones find each other again, the world moves on. There is still a Dark Lord and still a headmaster with sharp eyes on the horizon.”

I Waited For You, In The Shadows Of Time - Chapter 1 - watchingvfall_n_drown - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“For the Good of Us All” by toomanysunkenships

(48,341 words)

time travel

harry/tom

“Hermione has finally managed to corner Harry and convince him to listen to her plan. ‘Harry, going back in time to save Tom Riddle before the monster envelops the man is the best plan we have. It's for the good of us all.’”

For the Good of Us All - Chapter 1 - toomanysunkenships - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Forget Me Not” by partofforver

(24,213 words) complete

horcrux tom

harry/tom

“Harry Potter finds an empty diary in the bathroom of Moaning Myrtle. Why doesn't he throw it away?”

https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/4118536/chapters/9282931

“Lest You Are My Enemy” by Maeglin_Yedi

(6,415 words) complete

harry/tom

“Some books are better left unopened.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008780

“Counting Bodies Like Sheep” by rightonthelimit

(70,941 words) complete

alternative universe, no magic

harry/tom

“It’s a crazy world torn straight out of a horror movie - the undead roam the earth and destroy everything in their wake. When Harry Potter narrowly escapes a horrible death he finds himself a companion in Tom Riddle - a mysterious, heartless man who doesn't hesitate to take lives to save his own. Savage as the man is, Harry still finds himself enthralled... He quickly starts developing strange needs and feelings.”

“When they decide to finally find a safe place to settle down for a while they encounter dangerous enemies on their path. Tom's past demons come back around to haunt the both of them and it becomes very clear that even after the years they spent together, Harry really doesn't know Tom at all.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/451855

“Death is but the Next Great Adventure” by TheObsidianQuill

(261,123 words)

harry/tom

“What if that night in Godric's Hollow went differently? What if Harry did die? What if Death stepped in and made a deal with the Savior of the Wizarding World? How different would Harry's life be after that deal?”

“(Or, Harry makes a deal with Death and in exchange gains something Voldemort has fought his entire life for. Immortality. And a strange friendship with Death)”

Death is but the Next Great Adventure - Chapter 1 - TheObsidianQuill - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“When Harry Met Tom” by The_Carnivorous_Muffin

(154,299 words)

time travel

harry/tom

“When the battle in the department of mysteries heads south, Harry finds herself flung backwards in time to 1942, where Tom Riddle is a prefect in his fifth year. Armed with this knowledge, but little else, Harry desperately tries to find a way home and for once in her life not screw it up. Tom, for his own part, wonders when Harry Evans will head back to the mothership.”

When Harry Met Tom - Chapter 1 - The_Carnivorous_Muffin - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“you belong to me (i belong to you)” by Child-OTKW

(80,718 words)

harry/tom

“‘What I find absolutely fascinating,’” Riddle said, stalking closer, “‘is you.’” He marched forward, backing Harry up until he was pinned to the cool wall of the common room.”

“After an accident, Auror Harry Potter wakes up in the body of fourteen year old Nathan Ciro, a tormented Slytherin who recently tried to end his own life. His return to Hogwarts causes quite the stir through the staff and students, especially when they realise he is not the same boy as before. He tries to keep his head down, but with the keen eyes of Tom Riddle hounding him through the halls, Harry finds himself unwillingly drawn into a dangerous game with an equally dangerous boy.”

you belong to me (i belong to you) - Chapter 1 - Child_OTKW - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“47 Days to Change (a translation)” by Snow-owl01

(200,888 words)

harry/tom

“Harry Potter and Tom Riddle are enemies, born adversaries, prophesied leaders of opposite factions (2001 to 1932, forty-seven days to change the fate of the Dark Lord).”

“This is a 'Harry travels back in time to raise Tom' story. An unfortunate tale of one man's failed attempt to mold young Tom into a decent, law-abiding citizen. Instead, as Fate will have it, young Tom grows up to become the same twisted psychopath, who is hell-bent on winning the love of his adoptive father. Harry's consent be damned.”

47 Days to Change (a translation) - Chapter 1 - snow_owl01 - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Lord of Time” by DebsTheSlytherinSnapefan

(452,985 words)

time travel

mpreg

harry/tom

“Harry Potter is the Master of Death and Lord of Time through his joining of the three Hallows together. During a duel that wasn't going well, he jumps to the 1940's and has a talk with the true Master of Death. Can Harry prevent the destruction that will occur? Can he change Voldemort to prevent him from becoming the darkest wizard of all time? Or will he be caught in Tom's web?”

Lord of Time - Chapter 1 - DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“60 Years in a Summer” by Isys Luna Skeeter

(74,416 words)

time travel

harry/tom

“One night, once a year, was more than anything else Tom ever had. This is the story of how two people destined to be foes were actually destined for something else”

60 Years in a Summer - Isys Luna Skeeter (IsysSkeeter) - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“The Other Side of the Coin” by Zennith6

(9,276 words) complete

teacher/student

harry/tom

“Harry Potter, defeater of Grindelwald, has come to Hogwarts. Raised by Sirius Black and sorted in to Slytherin, Harry finds his way under the guidance and watchful gaze of his mentor and Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, one Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Fanfic: The Other Side of the Coin Ch 1, Harry Potter

“To Define Treachery” by en extase

(44,595 words) complete

harry/tom

“Blind faith is easily shaken. In the Chamber of Secrets, the Horcrux-shade of a Dark Lord regains physical form and Harry finds within himself something he was never meant to know: ambition.”

Fanfic: To Define Treachery Ch 1, Harry Potter

“Riddle’s Legacy” by GenvieveWoolf

(50,273 words)

horcrux tom

harry/tom

“Miraculously, the boy hesitated. Realizing what was at stake, Tom dropped the wand and fell to his knees. ‘Don't do it!’ The next words came very hard. ‘Please, don't kill me.’ What might have happened if Harry had not stabbed Riddle's diary?”

Fanfic: Riddle's Legacy Ch 1, Harry Potter

“A Touch of Evil” by DaggersBloodPain

(78,358 words)

harry/tom

“What if the Chamber of Secrets events didn't turn out the same? A secret learned will make it so Harry will find himself growing up yearning for the touch of evil.”

“This is what may have happened had Harry not saved Ginny and Voldemort was able to return to his 16 year old self. Harry will have to choose who to give his loyalty, power, and love to. This story will go into the nature of Darkness, tinged with a spark of evil, and this will include the bashing of several Light sided wizards.”

Fanfic: A Touch of Evil Ch 1, Harry Potter

“Enduring Obsession” by whitedwarf

(41,067 words)

harry/tom

“It's Riddle's time at Hogwarts. He can charm anyone but one: Hadrian Carrow. A dichotomy, friends with everyone and yet no one. A Slytherin, he chooses to drink with Gryffindors, debate with Ravenclaws and associate with Hufflepuffs. He's Riddle's obsession.”

Fanfic: Enduring Obsession Ch 1, Harry Potter

“A Dark Tide’s Pull” by SyrupylikeBreakfastinMontag

time travel

harry/tom

“Harry goes back in time to 1944 to deal with Voldemort before he decides to make seven horcruxes. Unfortunately for Harry, though, dealing with a 17 year old Tom Riddle isn't as easy as he thought it would be.”

Fanfic: The Dark Tide's Pull Ch 1, Harry Potter

“Black Coat” by Hermione Prime

(77,918 words) complete

time travel

harry/tom

“Seized by Voldemort at the end of his fifth year, in the Department of Mysteries, Harry was transformed into a cat and sent tumbling through time. Armed with nothing except teeth and claws, Harry has to handle the threat posed by Tom Riddle and his teenage followers. He intends to stop the genius young Dark Lord and sabotage him at every turn...in the form of a cat. Sounds simple?”

Fanfic: Black Coat Ch 1, Harry Potter

“Androgynous Lover” by Watermelonsmellinfellon

(69,791 words)

harry/tom

“Hadrian is an androgynous boy who meets a special 'snake' in the zoo on his cousin's eleventh birthday. This 'snake' will help him through his journey into the magical world. Hadrian will learn to use his looks to sway the masses and to use his cunning to get what he wants. Imagine his shock to find out that his new 'snake' is actually a person!”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525384/chapters/5612165

“Stars, Hide Your Fires” by Audair, Ophidias

(41,270 words) in progress

time travel

harry/tom

“Riddle’s undivided attention snapped to him with the swiftness of shattering glass. His turbulent magic receded from where it had besieged the shop. ‘You,’ he breathed. Coiling in leisurely motions, the eager tendrils of his magic reached for Harry, swathing about his limbs and neck and chest with a liquid, flowing fascination. ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ Riddle continued, tilting his head to the side and sweeping his gaze over Harry. It was an appraisal that felt simultaneously like the raking of iron nails and the tender drapery of silk. It was so familiar, and yet… so foreign. In the winding streets of Knockturn Alley, an intricate dance of mutual obsession unravels between twenty-three-year-old Tom Riddle and a time-travelling Harry Potter.”

Stars, Hide Your Fires

“Inevitabilities” by EclipseWing

(103,199 words) complete

harry/tom

“Tom and Harry are inevitable in any universe.”

Inevitabilities - Chapter 1 - EclipseWing - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Pet’s Curse” by Isys Luna Skeeter

(79,416 words) complete

time travel

harry/tom

“Harry gets cursed and sent back in time. Now he has to find a way to save himself while getting used to the constant presence of his enemy, how does he always gets himself in these things anyway?”

Pet's Curse - Chapter 1 - Isys Luna Skeeter (IsysSkeeter) - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Turning the Tide” by DanniCat

(105,720 words) complete

harry/tom

harry/draco

“Harry becomes doubtful of Dumbledore's side of the war. Things are no longer how he remembers them. When he listens to Draco's side of the story how will his own path change?”

Fanfic: Turning the Tide Ch 1, Harry Potter

“White Innocence” by Emriel

(85,725 words) abandoned

time travel

harry/tom

“Harry is given another chance to live but there is a catch. He wakes up in the past. Thinking it was all a mistake, Harry plots to get back but has the misfortune of attracting the attention of Tom Riddle. They become friends and Tom starts to feel things that are foreign to him. So he keeps Harry close. What starts as curiosity turns into an obsession.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842741/chapters/22091924

“The Black Bunny” by windseeker2305

(465,513 words)

harry/tom

“Harry's had it with his destined role after the Order does something he can't forgive. Now he's done with both sides of the war and wants to be left alone. But since when have his wishes ever counted for anything?”

The Black Bunny - Chapter 1 - windseeker2305 - Harry Potter - JK Rowling

“Rebirth” by Athey

(269,743 words)

reincarnation

necromancerHarry

harry/tom

“Two boys grow up together in an orphanage, grow powerful at school, are torn apart by death and brought back together by rebirth. Horcruxes aren't the only way to live forever.”

Fanfic: Rebirth Ch 1, Harry Potter

“The Journal” by Bear-Bell

(54,324 words)

harry/tom

“Harry finds Tom Riddle's journal when he's only 4-years-old”.

Fanfic: The Journal Ch 1, Harry Potter

“Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls” by MorticiaYouSpokeFrench

(59,978 words) complete

harry/tom

“Voldemort succeeds in stealing the philosopher's stone, but not all is as it seems.”

Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls - Chapter 1 - MorticiaYouSpokeFrench - Harry Potter - JK Rowling