#for the most part it's big name fics everyone already knows about cause I've been catching up

[pinkdean]

We're going back to our roots I've got a fic rec page again babeyyy

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Approval numbers and public perception of Tommy's personal life force him and Lucy to face some painful realities.

Word Count: 3,519

Notes: Not really sure if I'm entirely happy with this chapter, but I've been fiddling with it for so long and I just need to move on. Hope you all still like it! Warnings for depictions of insecurity and references to past abuse and polyamory.

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 1: Too Late

“No.”

Lucy sighed, looking pleadingly into Tommy’s glacial eyes as they hardened over with stubbornness. 

“Tommy, love, we both know it would fix all of these problems…”

“As we’ve already discussed to exhaustion.” His jaw ticked. “I won’t do it.”

“Sweetheart,” she broke eye contact with him to look down at the papers settled in her lap. Her hands fiddled with her rings, gaze glued  to the infernal numbers emblazoned upon the reports, as if staring at them hard enough would cause them to shift and change. “It’s not getting any better. If anything, it’s only going to get worse.”

“The constituents don’t seem to care,” he huffed, reaching into his pocket for his cigarette case. “Considering that they elected me.”

She frowned. “Because we bribed your way in. And besides, I’m not sure if a lot of them even knew then. You weren’t exactly shouting your marital status and Ruby’s parentage from the rooftops.” Not that he’d hid it, per say. He just avoided discussing it during the campaign and while in settings related to his work. “And they might not care now, but what about when your political rivals start harping about it in the press? They’re already using it to try to shut you out of certain things. Not to mention that arsehole from Oxford who keeps using it to try to cut down all your arguments in the house.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” Tommy shook his head, lighting his cigarette and releasing a puff of smoke from his lips up towards the ceiling.

They were seated in his office in the House of Commons, the big wooden double doors that led out into the workroom that she shared with the other secretary, Adam, closed. Not that they needed to be. Adam had already gone home for the evening, as had most of the other MPs and their staff. No one would be interrupting them. It was late, nothing but darkness and a flickering streetlight visible out the window. 

She was still getting used to spending her days working in the offices of the House of Commons rather than the betting shop or the office in Birmingham. While the general decor and design of the building was not all that dissimilar–outside of just being bigger–there was something distinctively different about this place. A stuffiness and sense of propriety that served as a thin veil for the egos and superiority that radiated from so many of the men who sauntered through its halls. It was a bit of a shock to go from Small Heath, where just about everyone knew her name and she was decidedly near the top of the food chain as far as both authority and respect goes, to here where she was lucky if the MP just next door could even remember her name. In these offices, she was not the Red Demon, or even Lucy Winters. Here she was just Thomas Shelby’s Assistant. And was treated as such. 

It wasn’t all bad, of course. She still got to spend most of her days at Tommy’s side, and the work was not that different from what she’d been doing for him before. 

“I agree, but that’s the way that things are, love.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “And your constituents do care. That’s what these numbers are all about,” she nodded to the report in her lap. “More and more of them indicated that while they’re happy with your performance and policies, they’re troubled by your conduct regarding your personal life.” She held out the papers, and he took them with a reluctant sigh, pulling his glasses from his pocket and sliding them onto his nose so he could look them over himself. 

“Doing…doing this,” Lucy swallowed, unable to bring herself to utter the thing that, ever since Ruby’s birth–and certainly ever since he was elected–hovered threateningly over them. The guillotine teetering precariously above their heads. “It would help improve your standing with the more traditional and family focused members of your constituents. And might even open up some more doors for you here with the conservative MPs. God knows we already have a hard enough time working with them.” Bunch of racist, classist dickheads was what they were. All too eager to look down their nose at the man who had clawed his way from the bowels of Small Heath’s dirty streets to the halls of power. They already had enough reasons to attempt to shut Tommy out, they really didn’t need to be giving them anymore ammunition. 

Tommy met her eyes, and she saw a crack appear in his resolve. Deep down, they both knew that she was right. This needed to be done. 

Even if it was going to break both their hearts. 

Tommy closed his eyes, head tilting up as he released another stream of smoke from his lips. His brow pinched with stress, the skin around his temples tightening. 

She forced herself to be strong. “You know just as well as I do how important image is to the people we’re now surrounded by. And to the people you’ve been elected to serve. We can’t just…shrug off what other people think of our personal lives anymore. Presenting the image of a proper family will solve nearly all the current problems outlined in those numbers.” 

His lips pursed. He was not seated behind his desk, but rather in the chair next to hers in front of it, one leg crossed over the other. One of his hands lifted to touch the side of his face, thumb moving across his lips while he examined her shrewdly and listened to her argument.

“We can’t ignore this forever. It has the potential to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.” She looked him hard in the eye, beseeching him to understand. He still just stared at her, clearly fighting against the knowledge that he knew she was right. “There’s only one clear solution that I can see that fixes pretty much all problems at once.”

How many times had they discussed this? Too many to count. And he always shot the idea down instantaneously. When Polly tried to push it harder on one of their more recent meetings, he’d nearly ripped her head off. 

“Look, you know what my suggestion for a solution is. If you have any others, I’m happy to hear them.” She was suddenly in dire need of a cigarette. Sensing her need, Tommy silently held out the one clutched between his fingers towards her. She took it with a noticeably unsteady hand, bringing it gratefully to her lips. Tommy watched all of her movements closely, knuckles pressed up against his lips, frown still firmly in place. Picking up the report of his approval numbers, his eyes skimmed over the front page once more before tossing it onto his desk, removing his glasses and putting them back in his pocket.

The silence while he mulled over her words seemed to stretch on forever, only interrupted by the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the mantle. Lucy had to fight back the desire to fill it with more near nonsensical babbling. 

Why was she even arguing for this so bloody hard? She should be happy that he’d instantly dismissed the suggestion the very first time that she brought it up. Hell, she was, from a purely selfish standpoint.

Tommy’s hand dropped from where it was resting against his lips to take one of hers, thumb running along her knuckles. 

“I don’t want to marry Lizzie,” he said softly.

She met his gaze sadly. “I know.” I don’t want you to marry her either. But she knew if she told him that, she would never manage to convince him to go through with it. He’d refuse forever all on account of her feelings, even if it meant that he could lose everything he’d worked so hard for.  

The idea that he could lose it all and it would be her fault made her feel sick with guilt.

“But we’re being backed into a corner here, love,” she chose her words carefully. “Being unmarried with an illegitimate child makes some of your constituents think that you don’t value families. If you want to stop your approval numbers from dipping, and even have a shot at reelection in a few years…”

“I haven’t even thought about reelection, yet.”

She gave him a look that was both stern and fond in equal measure. “Now, we both know that isn’t true.”

His lips quirked upwards slightly, eyes warming at how well she knew him. But when he scooted closer to her, sadness quickly leaked back into his expression, lips turning downwards.

“I don’t love her.”

“I know,” she repeated, feeling even worse at the spark of relief that statement brought her. Poor Lizzie. 

He shot her a look of deep, unending regret, brushing some hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered at the warm press of his palm against her cheek when he cupped it. “I promised you that I wouldn’t marry her,” he whispered. 

“You said that you didn’t plan to,” she corrected, recalling the conversation when he first informed her of Lizzie’s pregnancy. The things he’d murmured to her whilst holding her on the floor of their bedroom while she cried. “Plans can change.”

“I am not leaving you,” there was zero room for argument in his voice, jaw shifting stubbornly. 

“Lizzie might not agree to marry you if you don’t.”

Tommy shook his head. “It’ll be a marriage of convenience only. You and me still being able to be together is non-negotiable. I’m not budging on that.”

She smiled a little in spite of herself at his devotion, leaning her face deeper into his palm. “It feels terribly unfair to her.”

“She can always say no if she really can’t handle it. We’ll be clear about what it’ll all entail, so she doesn’t get the wrong idea about any of it meaning something between me and her. Besides, she’s been warmer towards you lately.”

That was true. Though who knew how long that would actually last.

Scooting his chair closer to hers, Tommy leaned forward, holding her face with both hands, forehead resting against hers. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” he asked urgently. Lucy swallowed hard. The thought of watching him stand up at an altar and make vows and promises to another woman, of having to live under the same roof as Lizzie and share him with her for the rest of their lives…

It burned harshly in her chest, cracks forming in her already fragile heart. 

But she could live with it. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make if it meant that Tommy would not lose all he’d worked so extremely hard to achieve. 

Maybe…maybe it actually wouldn’t be all that bad. He was right that Lizzie had been kinder and more amicable towards her as of late. Perhaps she would even be agreeable to all three of them sharing a bed from time to time, like they used to. And it would be nice to have Ruby in the same house as them so they could see her more. She and Charlie could be raised as proper siblings. 

“Yes,” she said, unknowingly sealing both their fates. “So long as we don’t have to break up.”

“I won’t ever let that happen,” Tommy promised. She leaned in closer to him, hands resting on his forearms. Tommy gave her a little tug. “Come here,” drawing her from her chair, he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured into his chest, arms winding around his neck. “I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but…”

He snorted, lightly pinching her hip. “Yeah, yeah.” Lips ghosting across her temple, he silently urged her face back enough so that he could kiss her softly. “I mean it. I won’t let us be torn apart.”

A small smile pulled at her lips, his reassurance like a band-aid over her fracturing heart while he kissed her again. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Well,” Lizzie said, adjusting her fingers around her cigarette, straightening in her chair. Even sitting down, she looked tall, the way in which she sat with her spine entirely straight only adding to the effect. She looked between Tommy and Lucy seated before her at the other side of the round table in front of the fireplace in Tommy’s Birmingham office. “That’s one hell of a way to propose to someone.”

Lucy winced a little at the underlayer of bitterness in Lizzie’s voice, looking down at her hands in shame.

“Technically you aren’t being proposed to until we know that you agree to our…conditions,” Tommy was much less phased by Lizzie’s reaction, puffing on his cigarette whilst eyeing her from around the vase of deep red roses on the table between them. 

“I’m pretty sure that I know what those are already,” Lizzie huffed, shifting in her seat, briefly glancing at the fire crackling away in the hearth. She looked back at them, and gave a little gesture with the hand holding her cigarette for him to continue. “But let’s hear them anyway.” 

Tommy adjusted himself in his seat, leaning forward with one of his arms resting on the table. When he spoke, his voice had taken on the commanding edge that Lucy had heard him use when giving orders to his men or family members. 

“After we are married, you and Ruby will come to live at Arrow House. You will enjoy all luxuries that the home and the title as my wife offers. All we expect is that you help take care of the children and manage things that have to do with the household. You can continue to hold a position on the company’s board, if you’d like. But most importantly,” he glanced over at Lucy, holding her gaze steadfastly before turning back to Lizzie, “Lucy and I will still get to be together.”

The area around Lizzie’s lips tightened slightly. “So you aren’t offering me a real marriage, but only one of convenience.”

To his credit, Tommy did not flinch away from her stern, accusing gaze. “Yes; that’s exactly what I’m offering you.” 

Lizzie leaned back into her chair, nursing at her cigarette as she contemplated. Lucy struggled to meet her gaze when it shifted periodically over to her, guilt roiling through her like a tempestuous storm. She’d never been able to shake the feeling that if she were not around, Tommy and Lizzie may have actually stood a chance together. And she was pretty certain that Lizzie thought the same exact thing. 

“I want you to promise that you will be discreet,” Lizzie finally said very slowly. “I will not be publicly humiliated by my husband openly fucking another woman.”

“Of course,” Lucy nodded. They already had toned down most displays of physical affection whilst in public, presenting instead as simply colleagues who happened to be good friends. Gestures of romance were saved for behind closed doors. It was not unlike it was prior to Grace’s death, when the three of them had to practice restraint to avoid a scandal. “And we’re willing to make accommodations to make sure you and Ruby are comfortable.”

“Within reason,” Tommy interjected quickly. 

“I want a honeymoon,” Lizzie said decisively. “A real one. With just you and me.” Her eyes wavered from Tommy to fix on Lucy, then darted back to him. Lucy thought she caught a glimpse of pleading in her face. 

The mere idea of them going on a romantic vacation together without her left insecurity brewing beneath her skin, but Lucy forced herself to ignore it. Considering what they were asking of her, it felt like it was the least that they could do. “Okay.”

Tommy shot her a glance. “We’ll have to talk about it,” he modified. 

Lizzie nodded. “Of course.” The clock on the mantle chimed. “I have to head home. I promised the nanny I’d be back by half past five. I can come by this weekend to work out more of the details if you’d like.”

“Yes, that would be good. You have a ride home?” Tommy asked, both he and Lucy standing after Lizzie stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and rose to her feet. 

“Yes, Skudboat offered to drop me off.”

“Right. We’ll see you this weekend, then.”

“Give Ruby a kiss from us,” Lucy requested timidly. Lizzie shot her a smile that actually seemed half genuine. 

“I will.”

They bid her goodbye, Lucy waiting until the door swung shut behind her before sinking exhaustedly back into her chair. She was struck at how transactional the whole exchange had been. Like ironing out a business deal rather than arranging a marriage.  

The floorboards creaked under Tommy’s heavy footsteps as he approached her. Reaching out, he rubbed a hand up and down on her upper arm, bending to kiss her forehead. 

“Are you alright?”

She stuffed the guilt bubbling up within her back down, locking it away in a far corner of her mind. “Yeah.”

“I can get out of the honeymoon if it makes you uncomfortable. Or insist that you come along.”

“It’s fine,” she probably said it too quickly to be convincing. “It’s the least that we can do for her, considering.”

“I don’t like the idea of going without you.”

“Me neither,” she admittedly, finally looking up to meet his concerned blue orbs. “But it’s just one week.” She knew him better than to expect that he’d be willing to take more than that off work. “We’ll live.”

He stroked her face tenderly, brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t have to give her everything that she wants. I know that you feel bad, even though you really shouldn’t, but…” he trailed off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, thumb brushing down her cheek. “If she pushes too far, if she’s unkind to you, or asks for something you aren’t comfortable with, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll take care of it, alright?”

Nodding, she turned her face to kiss the center of his palm. “Thank you,” covering his hand with hers, she smiled weakly. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Ugh,” he made a face as though he’d just been told he was sentenced to be executed, rather than engaged to be married, and dropped his head forward until it was resting against her shoulder. Lucy wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face into his hair, breathing in the scent of his soap and cologne. “I wish it was you,” he mumbled sorrowfully against her throat, and for a dreadful moment Lucy actually thought that she might start to cry. 

“I know.” And though she did not say it–for fear that if she did, he would call the whole damn thing off and throw his reputation and all professional prospects in the bin–they both knew the words circulating within her head:

Me too.  

When he first brought up the topic of marriage, all the way back in 1918, before Grace had even walked into their lives, she had told him that it was not something she was sure that she wanted. She was still living with the trauma of being previously engaged to a monster who hurt and abused her, and the only example of marriage she’d had was the loveless, horrific mess that was her parents. It was something he’d respected, unconcernedly promising that marriage or no marriage, he would still love her forever.

After Grace died, the topic had passed briefly every once in a while across her mind. With times changing and modern perspectives growing in popularity, it was no longer a necessity that she stop working if she were married. And with the slow passage of time, the idea of marriage no longer seemed to her like a cage to be bound and gagged within. She knew that Tommy would never expect her to change simply because he placed a ring on her finger. 

But she didn’t bring it up to him, both of them were still aching too terribly from Grace’s death. It was too soon. For them personally, for Charlie, and for either of their reputations. 

And then the vendetta had happened. And for a bit of fun they took Lizzie down to the canal for a fuck like they so often did before Grace stepped into their lives. 

If only she hadn’t still been so messed up on the topic the first time that he asked. If only she’d expressed her changing feelings on the matter with him before Lizzie got pregnant. Maybe things would be different. 

She could not say anything about it now. If she did, he would abandon this plan that was poised to solve so many problems for him. Not to mention that marrying her instead of Lizzie would create a whole new set of issues for him to deal with, some with the potential to wreck everything he’d accomplished.

It was too late.  

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[forabeatofadrum]

an ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

Thanks for tagging me @wellbelesbian! Better late than never, eh?

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

Just Some Guy and Ljubili se. Those are my "active" WIPs now, because if I had to list all of them... oh boy. Although I'm working on Just Some Guy more.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Outsider POV + Chosen One shit = disinterest

Queer journey + long distance = chaos (I think???)

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

For these two, none. I know Matt is MCD, but it stands for Matt Christopher Davis.

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

I don't really have alternative titles, but they do have nicknames. I call Just Some Guy "MCD" because it's just funny to me and Ljubili se "Klaine in Ljubljana 2" which is ridiculous cause they're no longer in Ljubljana.

5. ⚠️Which WIP your most likely to finish or update next?

Just Some Guy. I only need to finish one more chapter and I've been updating it weekly.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Ljubili se is in "drabbles and oneshots" and Just Some Guy in "Non-glee drabbles and oneshots" because I am chaotic and put all my writing in those two docs, unless something becomes too big, then it gets its own doc.

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

I’ve heard stories of physical fights between them, but I kind of don’t care. Just let me play chess in peace. If they want to knock each other’s brains out, be my guest. One time I walked to class and Simon almost shoved Baz against the wall in anger, and I just passed them. I think more students are kind of used to their escalations. So, no, I don’t care. Arnold says it’s rude of me to think that way, but it’s not out of malice. It’s out of disinterest. “Really, I don’t get politics,” I sigh.

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

I scrapped two scenes in Just Some Guy. The whole premise of the fic is that Matt honestly doesn't care that much about what the fuck is going in with Simon Snow and entourage. Originally, the kidnapping of the Mage in the 6th year had an entire scene where he, Leslie and John discuss it. And in the 8th year, there was an entire scene where Matt and his dad learn about the Mage's death, because once again, John and Leslie show up to discuss it. But in the end, I realised that Matt just... doesn't care. And those two scenes therefore felt very forced and it dragged the chapters down. The snippets aren't bad. They're just woefully unnecessary. I was like "I need Matt to acknowledge this" and I realised I didn't. I put both of them under the cut at the end of this post.

Hey, it ain't spoilers, cause everyone who's read Carry On knows what happens to good ole Davy.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Unfortunately for me, my mind's already started planning for this year's Klaine Advent/December Fanworks Challenge. Why is this unfortunate? Well, I still have to finish the 2023 one, Ljubili se.

But this idea is pretty neat. It's inspired by J.M. Frey's Accidental Turn series. That's all I'm sayin.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

Actively, 2. Maybe 3, since bamboo ceiling is rotating in my brain. Don't ask me about the others in my WIP Hospital.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

I AM FUCKING STUCK ON LJUBILI SE BECAUSE JUST LIKE LJUBIM TE I JUST FIND KURT'S POV HARDER/LESS INTERESTING TO WRITE.

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

Kudos back!

I think this post has been passed around in the Snowbaz fandom, so I am passing it to the Gleeks: @thnxforknowingme @caramelcoffeeaddict @coffeegleek @quizasvivamos @bitbybitwrites @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @rockitmans @special-bc-ur-part-of-it and whoever else!

Year 6: Mage's kidnapping

When I come home from Christmas break, something is definitely up.

“Did I miss anything?” I whisper to Leslie. We’re walking towards the Dining Hall to meet up with the others.

Leslie looks around.

“I heard this from John,” she leans in, “that the Mage got kidnapped over Christmas.”

“What?!” I exclaim.

“Shut it,” Leslie hisses. Some people are indeed staring at us. “The Coven is keeping it quiet at the Mage’s request. He cannot afford to look weak in front of the Old Families and the Dark Creatures.”

“Then how does John know?” I ask, but I think I already know the answer. John just knows stuff. And so far he’s always right. Maybe he’s a Seer, or something. Not that those are real, but damn, John is a strong contender.

And yes, Leslie tells me that John just knows.

Leslie and I enter the Dining Hall and John waves. Everyone’s already here. I look to Leslie to say something about it, but she’s already run to Sam to catch up. I shrug. Leslie can be mysterious as well.

I sit next to John and I inquire about the Mage’s disappearance.

“Yeah, Simon Snow saved him and all that jazz,” John says quietly.

“Shouldn’t the Mage be the one protecting him, not the other way around?”

“You’d think, huh?” John sighs.

I look around. I assume others know as well, but no one discusses it openly. Even the Old Family kids don’t taunt Simon Snow about his mentor allegedly being kidnapped.

“Why did you tell Leslie?” I ask.

“Because I knew she’d tell you.”

“Why is it important that I know?” I ask, “You know I don’t care about Chosen One stuff.”

I care more about the pudding that’s in front of me. Fuck yeah, pudding. Both my mum and my dad are decent cooks, but they have nothing on cook Pritchard.

John shrugs.

“I needed you to react to it for story reasons,” he says.

“… Okay,” I say and I scoop some pudding on my plate, “Did it work?”

John nods with a smile.

“Yes, it did.”

--

Year 8: Mage's death

“Okay, so, the Humdrum attacked the Pitch Manor, where Simon Snow so happened to be. The day after, it attacks Watford. Simon and the Mage are there. Simon defeats the Humdrum and lost his magic. He kills the Mage. Is that… all?”

“In a nutshell,” Leslie says.

“Why would Simon Snow kill the Mage?” my dad wonders out loud. That is indeed the most surprising part, not even the fact that the Mage killed Ebb, the goatherd.

“The investigation is still in its beginning phase,” John says, “But it sounds like the Mage maybe wasn’t a good man after all.”

“Huh,” my dad says. That’s all. But it summarises it perfectly. Look, my dad and I are just some guys. We don’t have big opinions on the status quo, so we never really questioned how things are.

“So, what now?” I ask.

“There will be an inquiry into the Mage’s death,” Leslie explains, “Mitali Bunce is interim headmistress. Rumour has it that Simon Snow’s magic hasn’t returned, so who knows if he’ll come back to school.”

Damn.

This dude just saved the world, and he has to think about school?

I mean, I do too, but I am no Chosen One.

Bruh, it must suck to be Simon Snow

[ethan-torchio-angelo]

Oh, love

Summary: It takes a year of trial and error, of love and heartbreak, for the two to finally realize there's no one else they'd rather be with. Or in which she becomes they're photographer for a summer tour and falls in love with the dark haired drummer.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: swearing, angst, sexual content

A/N: I just want to say a huge thank you to @ethanesimp for proofreading and hyping this fic up, thank you so much amore! This is the first piece I've written for any of the members of maneskin, and also the longest thing I've ever written! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

January

It’s a call in the middle of the day that begins it all. She’s been in a shoot all morning, running around snapping photos of a wanna-be teen idol. She’s been here many times, being hired to do promo shots for someone who never makes it farther than this. But this call, she knows it’s different. She’s heard the name, seen some videos, she knows this won’t be like the rest. She’s instructed to clear her schedule for the week and to be in Rome by the end of the day.

The cold air hits her as she leaves the building, suitcase and camera bag in hand. This is the moment she’s been waiting for since joining the company, the chance to become a permanent fixture instead of hopping from gig to gig. She’s told that they requested her specifically, that one of the band members saw her collection from a festival last summer and was dead set on booking her for their summer tour. It’s all new to her, the feeling of being the first choice and not second best. She barely hears anything that’s said on the plane by their manager, too busy trying not to freak out.

It’s only a few hours plane ride, but it feels like a lifetime. Thoughts run wild in her head as the seconds tick by, she can’t remember the last time she’d been this excited, or nervous, for something. She’s greeted by more people from their team as she steps off the plane, and is quickly ushered to the villa they’ve been staying in. She barely has time to process the beautiful new city she’s in before she’s hidden by walls of an even more beautiful place.

They give her time to relax and unpack, but clear instructions to not leave the property without security. Things have been crazy, she���s told, since their winning last year fans have become more clever with their tactics. She laughs at some of the stories, but heeds the warning all the same. She’s seen quite a few things that have shaken her to her core, so she knows to be careful and wary.

Music floats through the halls and into her room, the band practicing on the other side of the villa. The music fills her veins with a feeling she can’t quite place, but it’s a welcome humming that gets her blood pumping. She grabs her camera and follows the melodies, laughing at the jokes thrown around in english whenever someone messes up. She angles herself behind a corner just right where she can take pictures while still being hidden from the band.

Her heart races at the scene in front of her. It’s a family like she’s never seen. They all seem to orbit around each other, pushing and pulling each other into their atmospheres. She watches Victoria dance around the room, bass in hand, strumming the lines to an old song. Thomas lays on the floor with a notebook reading off words, Damiano repeating them as he draws on eyeliner. And Ethan, who sits at his drum set, twirling the drumsticks in his hand as he observes the scene before him.

She captures picture after picture of their dynamic, taking the most of Ethan, who seems to have a magnetic pull to him. She only pulls herself from the moment when she’s spotted. “Sai, qualcuno chiamerebbe questo strano comportamento.”

The words are warm against her ear, and she jumps at the unexpected presence. She turns around, laughing to hide her embarrassment, trying to translate the words in her head. She freezes when she sees it’s Ethan, trying to figure out when he slipped away from the rest of the group.

“Ah, niente italiano. Er, it’s unusual, what you are doing.”

Another nervous laugh leaves her lips, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be creepy. There’s something about the way the group is when no one is watching, it’s hard to ignore, it needed to be captured.”

He smiles at that. It’s soft and warm and she feels as if the world has stopped spinning. A song plays between their hearts as a silence falls over them. There’s a beauty about him that makes it hard to focus on anything but him.

A series of crashes followed by loud curses in Italian breaks the spell that they were under and Ethan pulls himself away from her to go and manage his friends. She uses this moment as an excuse to slip away and tour the rest of the house, ending in the kitchen where dinner is being prepared. She snaps a few photos of the chefs cooking, already envisioning the blog post they’ll go along with.

When everyone has made their way to the dining room a toast is made; to new adventures, to new friends, and to family. Sweet wine and light rain makes the time pass faster and the evening flows into night easily. The group parts only moments after midnight, long days ahead calling them to catch up on sleep now.

The month flows by with days and nights blurring together. It seems the studio is really the only place they call home, spending every waking moment in the room that houses their instruments. She stays with them through the long hours, snapping photos of the weird things they get themselves up to. Her hard drive slowly fills with collections of each band member, ones for the public eye and ones she sends to them to make them laugh.

The end of the month brings a party, something small to celebrate sold out tour dates. A night out to a local bar and far too many drinks. She dances with Victoria, who has become her best friend in the few weeks she’s been with them. Damiano and his girlfriend are not far away, but much more caught up in their own world. Thomas has disappeared somewhere, no doubt warming someone's bed for the night. But through all the commotion, she can’t stop watching Ethan.

He’s sitting at a table nursing the only drink he’s had that night, planning to take on the role of babysitter at the end of the night once everyones had too much to drink. He drums his fingers on the table, following the beat of each song that plays. He seems lost in his own world, content with being by himself. She moves away from Victoria, who easily finds another partner, and makes her way to the table.

“Sembri solo,” the words fall from her lips quietly as she takes a seat beside him.

He smiles at her, “Seems your little lessons are paying off.”

She blushes at that, not realizing he’d picked up on her daily lessons with their English tutor. “Only enough to not seem like a tourist.”

A small chuckle escapes his lips, and she wishes she could bottle the sound.

“But don’t change the subject. Tonight was about having fun, celebrating a big accomplishment. Yet you’re sitting here alone.”

He sighs at her insistence, “Sometimes we don’t need to celebrate everything so publicly.”

Something pulls at her heart. She can’t imagine having such a public life, but she understands how it must feel to never have anything to yourself. Before she knows what she’s doing, she places a hand on his arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, a light tingle shooting between the two of them.

She pulls her hand away quickly, a small blush forming on both their cheeks. He offers her a small smile to make the moment less awkward, and she returns it.

The night ends not too much later, the rest of the crew having decided that warm beds would be much more comfortable than the crowded bar. She helps Ethan herd their friends home, laughing along with him at their drunken antics. Victoria jokingly calls them mom and dad as they help her to bed, and the blush that was plastered on her face earlier that night makes a second appearance.

It’s almost morning by the time she makes it to her own room. Ethan isn’t far behind her, realizing for the first time tonight that they share the same hallway. “Buona notte,” comes his voice from down the hall.

She turns to face him, catching herself stuck in his stare. She can’t quite place the look in his eyes, but it gives her butterflies all the same.

“Buona notte.”

February

February brings more time in the studio and less time outside the walls of the Villa. While winter in Rome is not like the ones you’d experience in colder places, it still brings a chill to her bones. She steals one of Victoria's sweaters after a night spent lounging under the stars, a small break from a busy schedule.

A fire had been lit and a bottle of sweet wine was making its way around the group. She’d set her camera aside for the evening, planning on enjoying a night without the calls of work. She doesn’t know when it happens, but suddenly she’s swaying to a drunken beat in the arms of Damiano who can’t stop giggling at her two left feet. The man had not believed her when she said she couldn’t dance, but was now biting his tongue as they moved around the courtyard.

As the night seemed to come to a lull, a game of truth or dare was proposed and all were in agreement. She finds herself sitting beside Thomas on the floor as Victoria begins the game, a stupid dare aimed towards Damiano that earns him a new haircut. The night drags on in a flurry of laughter and silly dares. By midnight half the group is wearing someone else’s clothes, and the others have barely any on.

She’s moved to be sitting by Ethan, who has an arm casually draped across her shoulder. It shouldn’t feel so electric, his skin touching hers, but it does and it’s the only thing she can focus on. Her heart feels like it’s almost beating out of her chest and the blush on her face isn’t caused by the alcohol in her system.

Damiano is the first to notice her situation, and starts poking fun at her whenever it was his turn to ask her something. It started off innocent enough, small questions aimed towards her love life, but it soon caught the attention of Thomas who was the first one to issue a dare towards the girl. This was how she’d ended up sitting beside Ethan, cuddled into his side. Ethan was oblivious to the things going on around them, until Victoria dared her to kiss him.

It seems as though time stops, the laughter fades and the silence becomes deafening. She turns towards Ethan, a mixture of panic and excitement painted on her face. He smiles at her, “We don’t have to, amore.”

“A dares a dare.” She shrugs at him.

A round of cheers raises up around them as the two lean in. It’s meant to be only a small peck, something good enough to count in the eyes of those around them. But as she goes to pull away his hand reaches up to tangle in her hair and he pulls her closer. Their lips meet again without any hesitation and it’s like the world lights up around them. Blame it on the alcohol, but if she were to die right now she’d be happy.

They pull away a second later, a small laugh leaving both of them, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm.

“Awe, they’re blushing! How cute!” Comes the voice of Damiano, further pulling a blush from the girl.

She grabs one of the pillows beside her and aims it at his head, laughing when she misses terribly.

The night fades into morning and they all climb to the roof to watch the sunrise. It’s a moment she wants tattooed in her memories forever. She’s got her arms wrapped around Victoria and the three boys huddle around them, alcohol still flows through their veins and they’re all singing different versions of the same song.

March

The beginning of spring in Rome is magical. Flowers start to bloom, mornings are coated in a light dusting of rain, and clothing starts to become less of a necessity. She takes photos of the band trapezing the streets. The Villa studio has become too familiar, moving instead to a studio in the city.

By now, a routine has been put in place. Mornings sipping coffee and eating fresh pastries while she laughs at the varying states of wake the band is in. Afternoons in the studio, recording their new album while she collects photos and videos for their ‘making of’. Evenings spent in restaurants and bars, eating some of the best food she’s ever had, and she swears she’ll never eat anything better.

She’s never fallen in love with a city like this before. Maybe it’s the city, or maybe it’s the people she’s with, but she swears she never wants to leave. It suffocates her in the best way possible, the feeling of being home. She hopes that when the tours over and her contracts up, that she’ll move here, maybe even keep these people she’s grown so close to in the past few months.

She’s thrown out of the daydream by Thomas yelling at her in a mix of italian and english for not paying attention. It’s the middle of the afternoon, they’ve taken a lunch break at a restaurant down the block, and Thomas is expressively telling a story. His hands are in the air and he’s almost knocked his wine glass over too many times to count.

Damiano sits across from her, fiddling with her camera, snapping his own photos that he presents to her proudly. She laughs at every one, but never discourages his actions. Victoria is on her left, Ethan on her right, both vying for her approval as they argue over something. She’s overwhelmed by the different directions her brain is being tugged, but the hand that snakes its way into hers calms her.

She looks down to see Ethan rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand, a soft smile grazing his lips as they make eye contact. She returns it, whispering a small thank you to the boy.

That night, she lays in bed, in the room she’s begun to finally call hers, thinking of the boy with stars in his eyes. She doesn’t know if it’s feeling like she finally belongs somewhere, or the wine that still coats her veins, but there’s something about him that she wishes she could become a part of. She wants to wrap herself in it and never leave. She’s falling for him, hard. Vaffanculo.

April

It is Victoria's birthday and everyone has decided that she must be princess for the day. Ethan and Damiano have been up since dawn making an extravagant breakfast, something that should be put in a five star restaurant. Her and Thomas had disappeared shortly after waking, returning with a stack of presents that was almost as tall as him, and the best bouquet of flowers she could find.

After decorating the patio with anything and everything they could find, it was a mad dash to Victoria's room to wake her up. She protested, claiming that sleep was more important than being awake, but at the mention of presents she was the first one out of the room.

It was a morning of happiness, and a much needed break from their hectic schedule. She recorded the entire day, from the dramatic wake up call to the celebratory sparklers that were set off that night, it was all captured.

After breakfast the princess requested a trip to the beach, and no one would dare refuse her. They found something private, a little hidden oasis an hour's drive from the villa. They spend hours there, switching between swimming and laying in the sun. She finds herself alone on the sand with Ethan at one point, watching the others like proud parents.

She tries not to think about how close his body feels to her, how she can feel the heat his body is radiating seeping into her, the smell of his body wash. He’s invading all of her senses and she’s trying so hard to focus on anything but him. “Let’s go on a walk?”

His voice is warm as the question escapes his lips. She turns to look at him and she’s thankful to be able to blame the sun for the blush on her cheeks. She nods and gets up to follow him, brushing off the sand that’s clinging to her bathing suit and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

They disappear down the beach, walking side by side, a comfortable silence enveloping them. It’s not till they’re halfway down the beach that either of them speaks. “Are you enjoying your time?”

She doesn’t miss the hint of worry that laces his voice, and she’s quick to reassure him that she is. “Yes, very much. This is probably the best job I’ve had in years.”

He softly chuckles at her words, “Good. Good. We’re trying to make you feel like one of us, don’t want you running away.”

She’s grateful for the confession, glad that they don’t see her as just another person that works for them. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

He bumps her shoulder with his, a small smile forming on his face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They head back to the group soon after, realizing they’ve let the day slip away and need to leave soon if they want to make their dinner reservations.

A small vineyard hidden in the valley, they’ve booked the place so it’s just them, and ordered every bottle of wine on the menu to taste. They laugh away the night, enjoying plates of delicious food and letting their minds wander. A gorgeous cake is brought out at the end, half of which ends up destroyed thanks to an impromptu food fight. More presents are opened and Victoria starts tearing up, blubbering about how much she loves the idiots she’s surrounded with.

They walk through the dark streets of Rome, singing happy birthday loudly in every language they know. It’s unusually cold, but she’s somehow been wrapped in Ethan’s jacket, his arm slung over her shoulder. She’s holding Vic’s hand, Damiano and Thomas taking turns with her camera.

The air surrounding them is electrified, she looks up into the sky and thanks the stars for the life she’s living.

May

The summer tour is fast approaching, and nerves are starting to set in. The already high energy group somehow is bouncing off the walls even more, making for an interesting collection of photos. Nerves are starting to get the better of them, and she often finds one of them wandering around the Villa at odd hours of the night. She’s good at being able to channel her nerves into something else, focusing all of the energy on a new project.

One night though, it gets the better of her. She tosses and turns in her bed for hours before she decides that sleep isn’t coming. Instead of lying in bed willing her brain to shut off, she throws on a pair of shoes and heads for the front door, thinking a walk in the warm spring air will do her some good. What she doesn’t expect to find is Ethan sitting out on the terrace, cigarette in one hand and a book in the other, lost in his own world.

She doesn’t mean to catch his attention, hoping to allow him this little bit of uninterrupted peace, but he spots her anyway. “Buona serata,” He rasps, voice laced with the quietness of the night.

“Buona serata, Ethan.” She returns the greeting.

He motions for her to sit down in the chair beside him, closing the book and placing it on the table. “What’s troubling your mind tonight?”

She’s not used to the way someone can read her so well, but there’s something about Ethan that brings her comfort in the fact that he can. “Nerves, I guess. I’ve never done a gig this big, never spent so much time with one group. I’m used to being moved around a lot, still getting used to being a permanent fixture I guess.”

The words are heavy on her tongue, never having voiced her worries out loud before. He takes a long drag of the cigarette hanging from his lips, “La vita ci dà solo ciò che sa che possiamo gestire.”

“Some would think you were a poet in a past life.”

A small laugh escapes his lips, and he shakes his head. A comfortable silence falls over them and she wishes she could bottle this feeling to keep with her forever. He turns to look at her, and it’s hard to put into words the feeling that washes over him. He’s not sure where it comes from, the urge to kiss her, but it sends him spiralling.

He reaches his hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, “Le stelle brillano più luminose nei tuoi occhi, amore.”

The words and his actions cause her heart to raise and her breath to hitch. They’re close now, the closest they’ve been since that night in February, and all she can think about is that kiss that they shared.

Neither knows who leaned in first, but suddenly their lips are touching and it is everything and nothing like they remembered. While the other kiss had been hesitant and brief, this one was full of purpose. Their noses brush and their breaths tangle together, he bits her lip for a moment and a small moan escapes her. He swears it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

He grabs at her hips, lifting her from the chair and placing her so she’s straddling his lap. She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs softly, earning a groan from the man. The sound sends shockwaves through her and she rocks her hips against his almost involuntarily. His lips move from hers to the side of her neck, pulling small whimpers from her as he nips and sucks at the skin. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. The feeling of his body pressed to hers, the pleasure he can so easily give to her.

She moves her hands down to fumble with the hem of his shirt and that’s when he pulls away. “While I would normally love to do that here, how about we continue this somewhere more private?”

She nods eagerly and removes herself from his lap. He all but drags her inside the villa and towards his room. She trips over her own feet and they both laugh at her clumsiness, falling into each other as he tries to catch her but trips over his own feet in turn. He leans in to kiss her again as their bodies collide, this one sweeter and softer than the previous one.

The moment passes quickly and soon she’s being dragged through the halls again, only to be met with a half asleep Damiano standing in the doorway of his room. They stop in their tracks, jumping apart, trying to act like nothing was happening. “It’s rude to have a party and not invite everyone, you know.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, glad that he didn’t know what had been happening moments prior. Ethan is quick to explain that they were just having a cup of tea on the terrace and were now heading to bed, and thankfully the lie is believed. Damiano wishes them a goodnight, heading back into his room, and the two are left in silence in the hallway.

“Maybe we should go to bed,” he whispers to her.

Her heart sinks, but she nods her head in agreement and turns to walk back down the hall to her room. She’s not really sure how the night was going to end, but this was definitely not how she wanted it to; walking in silence next to someone her heart aches for, pretending that nothing had happened between them.

He walks her up to her door, still ever the gentleman, and places a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Buona notte, amore.”

The words should not sound as sad as they do, and she tries her hardest to keep the tears welling up in her eyes at bay as she watches him turn and walk away.

June

How do you go back to being just friends after making out with someone? Well, you don’t. At least, not fully. They dance around each other without knowing it, avoiding any contact that could lead to something more or allude to something else, but there are still moments where the world seems to slip away and it’s just the two of them.

The tour kicks off at a festival in Amsterdam. Blue skies and sunny days greet them as they get off the plane. They have a day to explore before their first show, and no one can decide how to spend it. In the end, Victoria drags Thomas off to do some shopping, Damiano plans a trip to a few museums with his girlfriend, and she is left with Ethan.

She’s not truly stuck with him, but she doesn’t feel like wandering a forgein city all by herself. Since the night in the Villa, they haven’t spent longer than a few minutes alone together, both refusing to acknowledge what had happened.

A trip to the beach seems like the best place to be, and within the hour she’s lounging in the sun listening to Ethan read a book. It’s peaceful, the sound of the waves and his voice lulling her into a half sleep. She’s got a drink in her hands, something sweet and fruity, and she’s sharing a cigarette with Ethan. It’s a scene she thinks one would find in a movie.

She rolls herself over so she’s laying on her back, staring up at Ethan who sits beside her. She places her hand on his leg and traces random shapes into his skin. Goosebumps rise in the wake of her fingertips, and he tries to stay focused on the book in his hands but finds it hard to do so. “You are very distracting, amore.”

She looks up at him innocently and she can’t help but admire him. His hair is tucked away in a bun, but a few pieces have fallen out and are flying in the gentle breeze. He’s only wearing a pair of swim trunks, broad chest on full display. He catches her roaming eyes as they make their way back to his face, a smirk slowly forming on his face. “Or maybe I’m the one distracting you, no?”

She smiles shyly and looks away from him, because yes, he is distracting her, and she’s finding it very hard to not kiss him right now. He chuckles at her, reaching his hand towards her face and turning it back towards him. He leans down towards her, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

All she can do is nod, and a second later his lips are on hers. It’s sweet and slow, she can taste the tobacco on his lips and it’s intoxicating. She moves so she’s sitting up, leaning into him more, the world around them fading out until all that is left is them.

A few days later they find themselves in a hotel room in Munich. There’s music playing and everyone’s laughing. Her camera hasn’t left her hands all night, every moment needing to be captured as they ride the after show high.

She’s in the middle of recording Thomas’ one man act when a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist. She knows exactly who it is by the scent that invades her nostrils and sends her brain into overdrive. She lets out a sudden, loud laugh, as his fingers trace themselves up and down her sides, collapsing into his chest as she struggles to breath.

He picks her up and spins her around, letting out an equally loud laugh at her protests. He’s happy, and it’s something that looks better on him than any designer outfit he could ever buy.

He falls onto one of the beds, pulling her down with him. She lands beside him tangled in his arms, he’s looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. The world seems to silence around them as their eyes lock. Her smile softens and she reaches her hand over to brush an eyelash off his cheek, he catches her hand before she can pull it away and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently.

He looks ethereal in this moment, hair strewn all over the place, a wild look in his eyes. She reaches for her camera and brings it up to capture him, never wanting to forget this moment.

The streets of Prague are empty, save for the two of them walking hand in hand down them. It’s early, almost too early to be considered an acceptable time to be awake, but they continue on nonetheless. A wild craving for something sweet had brought upon their adventure, and with the look she was giving him, he couldn’t say no to accompanying her.

They had been sitting on the balcony of her hotel room, watching the sun starting to peak out over the horizon and sharing a cigarette when she had turned to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I want something sweet.”

The comment had earned her an offer to order room service, but she shakes her head at the idea, standing up and walking back into the room. “No. Something real, maybe a coffee too.”

He follows her in, watching her pull on a shirt to cover the bralette she had been sitting in. “È presto, amore. Let’s go to bed. We can order something when the sun is awake also.”

She smiles at his words, but makes no move to stop dressing. She grabs her wallet and room key before heading to the door, stopping to turn and look at him, a question in her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll come with you.” He says after a moment, throwing on his jacket and walking over to her.

It’s 7:30 in the morning, the sun is starting to make it’s daily appearance, and they are happy. The small bakery they stumble into is just opening for the day and they’re greeted by the owner, an older lady with the sweetest smile. She speaks in broken English, an obvious language barrier between the group of them, but no one seems to mind.

She orders herself a poppy strudel and a coffee, Ethan ordering a croissant and an espresso, before sitting down at one of the small tables. He sits beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. He presses a soft kiss into the crown of her head and she sighs in content.

Moments like this are what she lives for. She might only be here because she works for them, but somewhere along the way she’s become part of their little family. She looks over to Ethan who’s lost in conversation with the owner, and she whispers to herself, “Penso di essermi innamorato di te.”

She doesn’t know that he hears her, his smile spreading wider across his face.

July

The turnover from June to July happens mid concert in Stockholm. She swears she can feel it, the sudden shift, a slight change in the air. She’s running around in front of the stage capturing pictures of the band in what she’s come to call their ‘natural habitat’. There’s an indescribable buzz in the air as they perform, the crowd becoming louder and louder with each song.

She keeps catching Ethans eye and there’s something primal in the way he looks at her. During a song switch, while Damiano rambles to the crowd, he motions her on stage. He tells her to get closer to everyone, promising that they won’t bite, and she giggles at him. She does what he says nonetheless, capturing some up close photos of the band and a few great shots of the crowd.

All too soon the show is ending and everyone’s piling into the car, a small party taking place in the backseat. Damiano has music blasting from his phone, Victoria and Thomas are dancing along to the beat, and Ethan is belting out the lyrics. She watches the group of them, laughing so hard her sides hurt, and she’s never felt more at home.

When they get to the hotel he’s quick to pull her towards his room, thankfully void of a roommate for the night. The second they get into the room, his lips are on hers. He pulls her close to his body and her hands tangle themselves in his hair. It’s nothing like any of their previous kisses, it’s heated and fast, every thought trying to be conveyed by the fever of it. She pulls back slightly to catch her breath and he leans in to whisper in her ear, “Join me in the shower?”

It’s not so much a question as a statement, but she nods her head eagerly, quick to follow him into the bathroom. He strips himself of the few clothes he’s wearing (most having been thrown off during the show), before turning to her. He reaches his arms out towards her, pulling her close to him and tugging on her shirt. She barely registers him pulling off her clothes, too focused on his body in front of her.

She’s never seen him so bare, and she’s having a hard time focussing on anything else. It’s not until her body hits the warm water that she snaps back to reality. He looks wild, eyes blown with lust, a wicked smile on his face. She firmly plants her lips on his, moaning into the kiss as he grabs at her. His hands are skilled and know every way to pull those delicious sounds from her lips.

It’s quick and dirty, and it is everything she has ever imagined it would be.

An hour later, she’s tangled up in the sheets of his bed, his entire being engulfing her as they watch the stars outside the window. She wonders if they are watching them too.

Paris is the city of lights, a statement she’s never been more sure of. The streets are lit with every light, shining brighter than the stars. She’s in a permanent state of bliss, after the night she shared with Ethan. Their relationship is hidden from the public, living in stolen moments and nights in hotel rooms, but she’s never been happier to be someone's dirty secret.

The band is electric on stage, something about the city they’re in taking their performance to a whole new level. The show goes on longer than it should have, but none of them even care when their manager comes over to reprimand them. They hang around to greet fans and take photos with anyone and everyone, and it’s not until security has to kick them out that they finally leave.

They find themselves in a bar, not sure what part of the city they’re in, but no one cares when the night feels like this. They drink expensive drinks that they can’t pronounce the name of, dance to songs they don’t know the words to, and feel more alive than they’ve ever felt. It’s like the world turned itself up to 11 just for them.

She dances with Ethan, not caring who sees because the night is theirs and no one cares. She kisses him in the middle of the dance floor and he pulls her into a vacant bathroom. It’s hot and heavy and the smell of alcohol envelopes them, but they couldn’t care less. Is this love? They don’t care. They’re young and dumb, and well, you only live once.

Back at the hotel they spend the night wrapped in bedsheets on the balcony, a bottle of champagne and a pack of cigarettes shared between the two of them. He points to the stars, a stupid grin on his face, “Le stelle brillano solo per noi.”

She snorts, throwing an abandoned pillow at him. He grabs her arm and pulls her into him, tickling her sides until she’s begging him to stop, tears staining her cheeks but a laugh like no other leaving her lips.

As the night bleeds into morning, and both are hazy with sleep, he whispers to her, “Sei il mio universo.”

They walk down the streets of London, his arm slung over her shoulders as she rambles away, both blissfully unaware of the few fans snapping photos down the street. They don’t notice the group of girls following them, cameras and phones in hand, capturing picture after picture of the couple.

By the time they reach the shop, the photos are already out into the world.

As they order, reposts and comments start flowing, and their phones start lighting up with notifications.

Before they can pay, she’s crying.

Rule number one of being in the public eye; never look at the comments, distance yourself from social media as much as possible, it will never end well.

The final stop in Rome was supposed to be a welcome home. A big celebration was to occur after their last concert, but now, it’s nothing more than finding the quickest way back home. She sits in one of the dressing rooms the entire show, waiting for it to end, scrolling through her social media.

She knows she shouldn’t be, that’ll all it’s doing is hurting her, making her feel worse. But she can’t stop. The comments aimed towards her and the drummer are terrible, and she wishes she could just delete herself from existence. They aren’t even dating, at least not officially, but she’s been deemed the girlfriend from hell. She’s unknowingly stolen something that never belonged to anyone to begin with.

Damianos girlfriend is in the room with her, telling her of her own horror stories dealing with fans, and she knows she’s just trying to help, but she really wishes she would just shut up. She loves the girl to death, she’s been a blessing this entire time, but she feels her mind is too far gone to be saved from the madness.

It’s only a few minutes later that the band wanders in, the usual after show high replaced with a sudden heaviness. Ethan comes to stand by her after putting his things away and pulls her into a tight hug. “Amore mio.”

He’s sweaty and could definitely use a shower, but the hug is comforting. She rubs his back soothingly, knowing this is just as hard on him as it is on her. Their management team has told everyone to remain quiet about it, disappearing from the internet until further notice while they figure out how to manage the situation. It’s maddening, the inability to speak out and protect her. He wishes he could snap his fingers and everything would be fixed, but he knows nothing is ever that easy.

They make their way back to the villa in silence, the car filled with a strangeness. She’s sandwiched between Victoria and Ethan, leaning on the bassist's shoulder, watching her play a game on her phone. It’s not how anyone wanted to end the tour, but the world is a strange and cruel place. Everything good always comes burning down.

August

There’s a party at the villa one night. Things have calmed down enough that she doesn’t spiral every time she looks at her phone, but there’s something in the way Ethan acts around her that makes her uneasy. She’s standing out on the patio, trying to avoid the questioning eyes from everyone in the house. She hasn’t spoken to Ethan all day, and the alcohol coursing through her veins makes her even angrier than she knows she should be.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him walk out the door beside her, a small scoff leaving her lips as he tries to speak to her.

“Couldn’t be bothered to talk to me all day, what’s changed that you’ve decided to grace me with your presence?”

He looks at her, stunned. “I don’t get what you mean.”

She scoffs again, placing her glass on the table across from her. “Since London you’ve done nothing but ignore me. I get that this wasn’t easy for you, but it wasn’t exactly a cake walk for me. I needed you, Ethan, and you left me.” Her voice is raw and scratchy, the feeling of wanting to cry tickling the back of her throat.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how Dami does it, how he can deal with the comments and messages. My brain won’t shut off, I can’t stop thinking about how if I had been more careful, I could’ve protected you and none of this would’ve happened. I feel stupid for thinking I could have. I hate seeing you like this, I wish I could take you away from all of this.” His voice slowly lowers, till it’s nothing more than a whisper, words meant only for her.

“I was never what you wanted, was I? This was just all some stupid game to you. I was just someone you could use to get off.” Her voice is laced with pain, a small crack coming out as she speaks.

He shakes his head, laughing slightly, and turns to look away from her. He walks a few steps before turning to face her again, “No. No, you were exactly what I wanted. You were everything to me. We were the same type of crazy.”

“I don’t understand Ethan, then what was the problem? This feels like a confession and a break up all in one.” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, watching as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket and lights it.

The familiar sight creates something warm in her chest, memories of summer nights like this flash through her mind. Spending the evening sitting on the balcony of different hotel rooms, sharing a cigarette between the two of them while they let the events of the day soak in. She’d give anything to go back to one of those moments. He blows a breath of smoke out and starts to speak again, “I don’t know, amore. I don’t. I want to tell you I love you, to hold you and call you mine. But I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t.” It’s not a question, but a statement.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t turn this into something it’s not. I want to, believe me, I do.” He steps towards her and reaches out his arms, “But we both know we can’t.”

She doesn’t know where the tears come from, but they’re there, pooling in her eyes. It’s only been a few months since they’ve met, there were no promises to be anything more than a summer adventure, but this doesn’t feel right. Her heart should not be breaking at the thought of losing someone she barely even knows.

He stops when he notices her state, reaching out to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. “Merda. Merda! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

She looks up at him through clouded eyes, “Then how was this supposed to go, Ethan? Breaking my heart wasn’t supposed to hurt me this bad? I was supposed to smile and tell you that I'm not madly in love with you and these past few months meant nothing to me?”

His heart breaks slowly at her words. He never meant for the night to go this way, and he wishes he could just pull her into his arms and tell her he loved her, that everything could be okay. But he can’t, so he pulls away from her, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

They’re the only words he can manage to get out without breaking down. He takes a second to watch her, memorize all the features of her face, before turning around and walking away. It’s a sight that rips her heart out, watching his form disappear back into the house. She knows this is it, the goodbye she’d been preparing for these past few weeks, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

Before she can help herself, she’s calling after him. “Being in love isn’t a weakness, you know!” But the words fall upon deaf ears.

Vic finds her standing in the same spot an hour later. She’s got a smoke lit in her hand, the third one from the pack. She hasn’t touched her lips to any of them, but the smell and the feeling of holding it brings her comfort. She was never really one to smoke, but she found it entrancing to watch Ethan do it, and right now, it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. It’s silly, how something so small can mean so much.

Her heart aches in the most unbearable way, but she can’t bring herself to do anything about it. Vic doesn’t speak, just stands beside her. She doesn’t need to ask to know that she is well aware of the events that have just unfolded, she’s just grateful for the company.

September

It’s stupidly hot in London for the time of year, but mother nature loves her unexpected heat waves. She’s home now, having left Rome shortly after the fight with Ethan, assuring their manager that she would be able to edit and upload all of the photos and videos from the comfort of her own flat.

Vic and Thomas had driven her to the airport, had walked her all the way to security and hugged her tightly before letting her go. She’d promised to keep in touch and Victoria had made her pinky swear that if she was ever in Rome again, she’d come visit. The flight was short, and she was glad the time difference was only an hour.

Her sister had picked her up and dropped her off at her flat, and she’d immediately collapsed into bed. That was three days ago, she’d barely moved since. Someone had caught her at the airport and the photos were everywhere, articles upon articles had been released, she’d had non stop messages from everyone, but all she could bring herself to do was turn her phone off.

Her photos make it to the front of magazines, her articles getting featured all over the globe, she’s made a name for herself. She gets emails from prospective clients wanting to book her in at shows, her boss sending her information for more high end gigs, but all she can think about is her drummer boy.

Her phone still sits turned off on her desk, she refuses to turn it on for anything, resorting to using only her email, but she knows everything that’s going on with the band. She’d been asked to join them again in a few months, to become a permanent part of their team. She hasn’t been able to reply.

She gets panicky thinking about seeing him again, about the things people will say if she’s caught in the same country as him. She’s stopped receiving death threats, but there’s still comments that creep in, fans thanking whatever gods made them seperate.

Victoria tries to reach out every few days, worried about the state of person she’s become, but she can’t even manage to type out an I’m okay. The world seems to be too fast and too slow, too bright and too dark, too much and not enough. Her heart aches and it’s a pain so deep she thinks she’ll never be okay again. Love is a cruel, cruel creature.

October

She finally brings herself to go back to work at the beginning of the month. She books herself in for a small band, someone no one really knows but she hopes they will one day. She’s in Amsterdam now, trying hard not to think of the memories the place brings. The band is good, the music heavy and the beat strong. They find a way to tell a story that leaves everyone with a soul searching question by the end of the night. Do you know who you are?

She’s only with them for a few nights, a short gig, but something she needed to get the ball rolling, to remember why she was doing this in the first place. After submitting the photos and writing an article that sends another wave of offers her way, she takes a few days to explore the city. It was wonderful before, when the air was warm and it felt like there was magic enveloping the city. But now, with the change of seasons, it’s even more beautiful than she remembers.

She walks the empty streets one night, huddled in the safety of her hoodie, camera in hand, and captures moments. A couple standing under a street light, a cafe closing for the night, kids running. It’s not until she hears a laugh she’s all too familiar with that her heart stops and her blood turns cold. She turns, ever so carefully, hidden behind the side of a building, and sees him.

He’s beautiful, even more than she remembers, and he looks happy. He’s walking with two girls, the resemblance making her sure it’s his sisters, but in this light she can’t be sure. She’s never met them, but he talked about them often, and she felt a pang in her chest for the homesickness he must have felt.

She tries to run, tries her hardest to get away, but she’s in an alley that leads nowhere and he’ll for sure be able to see her no matter what. The voices of the three get closer and she starts to panic, but there’s nowhere to go and she knows she’ll have to pull on her big girl pants and face him. But her heart won’t stop beating so loudly and she’s afraid she’ll break if he looks at her.

She pretends to be busy with her camera, focusing all of her attention on settings she knows are perfect, but a voice carries it’s way to her ears. “Hey stranger.”

It’s soft and it makes her knees weak and she hates herself for it. She looks up at him and his expecting eyes and her heart breaks all over again. She can’t help it, but suddenly there are tears running down her face and she can’t breathe. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

He places a hand on her shoulder but she pushes it away, “No it’s not.” She says between breaths.

“I shouldn’t be here, I should not be here. I have to go.”

She turns to leave, but one of his sisters stops her, “Let us walk you home, please. My brother may be a dumbass, but we have good genes. Let us make sure you get back safe.”

She doesn’t know why the words calm her, but she nods her head and lets the girls lead her in the direction of her hotel. The twins, Eleanora and Lucrezia, talk to her in fits of italian and english, trying to keep her brain occupied. But her whole body is on high alert, too aware of the man trailing behind them and how much of a fool she must look like. She feels like a mess, like someone drowning in a foot of water, but she can’t help it.

They walk her into the lobby of her hotel, the girls wish her a goodnight before shoving Ethan towards her. She doesn’t want to talk to him, and he must see it in her eyes because he tries to leave. But his sisters won’t let him, they stand tall and he looks like a child being scolded by his parents.

“Can we sit?” He asks, pointing to a couch.

She doesn’t want to, she wants to run up to her room and cry, but she nods. They sit and it is silent. Her stomach is in her throat, her eyes hurt from trying not to cry, but she sits and she waits. She studies his face, the crease in between his eyebrows that only forms when he’s confused or thinking, she wants to reach over and smooth it out. He turns towards her and catches her staring, a small smile forming on his lips.

He takes her in, allowing himself to really look at her for the first time in months, and something in his heart breaks. How did he ever let her go? Why was he so stupid to ruin something so beautiful?

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. “I’m so sorry, amore. I know I can’t say it enough, I know it’s not as easy as that, but I’m sorry and I love you. So much it hurts.”

The words hit her like a truck, they knock the air out of her lungs and the tears she was trying so hard to keep at bay start falling down her cheeks. She stands up so fast she gets light headed, “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

She turns and starts walking towards the elevators. He calls after her, but she’s determined to leave, to get away. He runs after her, catching her right before the doors of the elevator close, and he wishes she didn’t look so broken. The doors slip close and she is gone and he feels like he could break something.

Her room is cold and she wishes she was home in her flat. She throws herself into the shower, the water burning her skin, and she sobs. She sobs so hard her body shakes, she screams and hopes no one can hear her.

He’s still standing by the elevator, crying now, too. His body aches in a way he’s never felt before and he hates that he isn’t holding her right now. He knows he messed up, he beats himself up for it everyday, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay, but he has to do something.

November

The ground is covered in snow. It is peaceful and quiet. He’s not used to this, the cold and the snow, but he understands the appeal. He’s standing outside her flat, or at least what he hopes is her flat, Victoria wasn’t exactly sure which one was hers. He’s bought her favourite flowers and he’s prepared to pour his soul out to her.

He paces outside her door for what feels like hours, trying to get himself to knock, but before he can, she opens the door. “Ethan?”

Her voice is soft, his heart sings at the sound of it. He turns to face her and the sight before him takes his breath away. She’s wearing a dress that shows off everything he loved about her, a coat thrown over her arm, she looks like an angel on earth. “Do you have a moment?”

She’s running late for dinner with her sister, but she’s afraid if she says no to him, she’ll never see him again. She hasn’t forgotten that night in Amsterdam, wishes she would have been brave enough to stay and talk, but she can’t change the past. “Yes, yes. Come in.”

She lets him into her flat, taking the flowers he hands her, and brings him over to her couch. “So.”

The script he’d had prepared in his head is suddenly gone from his memories. “I’ve thought this through a thousand times, planned this out a million different ways, but I can’t figure out the right words to say. I’m sorry, amore mio. I can’t say that enough. I never should have left you, shouldn’t have let things happen the way they did. Loving you was easy, and I think that scared me.”

She takes a deep breath, not sure what to say. She feels tears bubbling in the back of her throat and she hates that this is her response to everything revolving around him. He notices the shift in her, can tell she’s about to cry, “Amore mio, please don’t cry. I’ll start and then neither of us will be able to do anything else.”

She laughs quietly at his words, “I don’t think there are any tears left inside of me. I cried them all for you.”

His heart breaks at her confession. He moves closer to her and wraps himself around her. She hates how easy it is for her to melt into his touch, but she enjoys the comfort of it. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours amore.”

“Please, don’t leave me again.” The words are barely more than a whisper, but he hears them.

He pulls her tight to his chest and holds her. She doesn’t care about anything else but this moment and him.

She wakes up the next morning in her bed. The sun is streaming in through the windows and she can smell Ethans body wash laced in the fibres of her bed sheets. She rolls over, expecting to see him beside her, but is met with an empty bed. Her heart sinks, afraid that everything he’d said was too good to be true, that he’d left her, again. But the sounds coming from her kitchen prove her wrong.

She gets up, quickly changing out of the dress she was wearing the night before, and follows the sound of clinking dishes. She’s greeted by the sight of a shirtless Ethan, back turned to her, hunched over her stove. There’s the smell of coffee brewing and something soft playing from the radio. If she doesn’t think too hard, she can almost imagine this being a daily occurrence.

He turns around when he hears the floorboards creak, a smile on his face, “Buongiorno amore mio.”

“Buongiorno.”

He hands her a cup of coffee and plates the pancakes he’s made. She smiles at the domesticality of it all. He sits down beside her on the couch and they eat in silence, leaning against one another. Afterwards, she washes the dishes and he dries them. Neither one of them says anything until the sun is high in the sky and they are laying in bed together. “I love you.”

It is the first time she’s said it in such a permanent way, she recites it like it is a fact written in history books. He looks down at her, she’s curled up on his chest, a hazy look on her face. He reaches down to tuck her hair behind her ear and leans his head towards her, “Ti voglio bene.” He seals the statement with a soft kiss.

It’s light and barley there, she chases after his lips as he pulls away, and he chuckles in a way that sends butterflies into her stomach. She places herself on his lap, weaving her fingers into his hair as his tether to her waist. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He stares at her, memorizing all of the features of her face. He loses himself in thoughts of days spent exactly like this, of a life he hopes isn’t just a dream. He flips them over carefully, laying her down on the bed. He hovers over her, arms on either side of her head, “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

December

“Move in with me.”

It’s early in the morning and they’re sitting in bed sharing a pot of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, she’s leaned into his side, and he whispers those words.

She hasn’t yet told him about the offer from the band's manager, to become their permanent photographer, but it seems like the perfect moment to. “Yes.”

“Really?”

She laughs at his shock, “I was offered to come and work for the band full time, I haven’t replied yet. But I want to take the job.”

A goofy grin makes its way onto his face, “Do it! Right now. Tell them yes, come and stay with us. Be my girlfriend?”

He’s rambling and he doesn’t care. She smiles at him, her heart bursting with love for the man. “Okay, yes! Absolutely!”

Christmas is celebrated in their apartment in Rome. The band is there, her sister flies out and his family comes too. It is a day filled with love and laughter. They eat a grand lunch that they spent the previous day cooking, his mom brings a homemade panettone. They exchange gifts in the evening, and it is everything she’d dreamed of.

On New Year's Eve they make a trip to the villa. They sing songs and drink expensive wine. Fireworks light up the sky brighter than the stars. They sit out on the porch and tell stories of things that seem so far away. He’s sitting beside her, hands intertwined. He tells her about all of the things he wants to do in the new year and she is mesmerized by the way he talks.

There will be a moment in time when the world stops spinning and everything goes quiet, and she thinks that if that were to happen now, it would be the perfect way to go. Surrounded by the people she now calls family and the person she loves most in the world.

Fireworks go off in the distance, someone shouts out a drunken happy new year! and as time flows from one year to the next, she realizes that this is all that will ever matter.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Part I

A lamb in a den of lions, he thought, watching the newcomer as she settled in, ordering whiskey neat. A fool, for sure.

A fool she may be, perhaps, but even fools could be dangerous. Eren had known that the young woman was a Hunter from the moment she entered the bar (everyone else had, too) but something told Eren that she was hardly cut from the same cloth as the average Bane of Creatures. There was something in her movements— a predatory grace in her stride, perhaps, or a stiff, straight posture, with muscles tensed and ready for action— that betrayed her power to him; but for all that, she really was lovely, and the image of a rabbit caught in a patch of bramble came to mind whenever he looked at her.

Sitting in a corner, drinking his B-neg, he watched the woman as she sipped her drink, checking over her shoulder now and then. She was wary— as anyone with good sense would be— but she didn't appear frightened, and Eren's curiosity was piqued. It wasn't every day that someone so bold happened across his path, and it became harder and harder for him to resist the urge to approach her.

Eventually, Eren gave in to his curiosity— he never had been very good at or even particularly fond of restraining himself— and when he came silently up behind her, the newcomer didn't even notice his presence until he murmured a greeting close to her ear.

"Hello, little love," he said, and she startled in her seat. "Are you lost?"

She turned around then, her eyes big and bright in the dim lighting of the bar, but by the time she managed to look at the spot where Eren would have been, he was already seated on the barstool beside her. Eventually, though, her eyes found his, and when their gazes met, Eren was amused to find no fear in her visage.

"Far from it," she told him, turning her body towards him. "I am precisely where I mean to be."

Eren blinked, nonplussed.

"Curious," he said, leaning forward so that she could see the sharpness of his teeth as he spoke. "Do you fancy yourself a wolf among sheep, little Hunter? Did you really not think we would know you for what you are the moment you crossed the threshold of this place?"

Any normal, human ear would have missed the way her heart leapt in her chest, but Eren missed nothing. The fear he had hoped to inspire in her was present after all, but her face never moved from its impenetrable mask— an affectation that was somehow both soft and steely at once.

"That's not what I'm here for," she told him, widening the distance between her knees as she readjusted on the stool. "I'm here to discover the truth."

The truth— what an odd notion!— and yet Eren sensed no lie in her.

"You're a strange one," he told her, but forced himself to relax his posture to appear lazy, almost drunk. "Most Hunters— even ones so pretty as yourself— shoot first and worry about the truth later. What's your name?"

Her nose crinkled. "It's polite to give your own first."

Sharp, he thought, watching her closely. Names have power.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger," she echoed, then extended her hand. "My name is (Y/N)."

That name sounded familiar to Eren— and though most names did after living a few centuries, this one seemed to hit closer to home. He knew that name, and knew it well…

"What's your surname?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flashed with an emotion that Eren didn't catch.

"Kirschtein," she replied, averting her eyes. "I'm Jean Kirschtein's great-great-great granddaughter."

And damn if Eren didn't want to laugh. Perhaps his nosiness into the posterity of his old acquaintances really was as bad of an idea as Armin always seemed to imply.

"I see," he said, and he truly, truly did. "Then you know who I am— what I am— and what I've done."

More than that, if she truly did know who he was, it was unlikely that she had come without a specific purpose in mind.

(Y/N) nodded, confirming his suspicions. "I was digging around in my family history and— well— I read what my grandfather wrote, and I just— I wanted the truth."

So wide-eyed, so innocent— so alive. Eren could see now her resemblance to Jean; if they were not similar in looks, she had his sharpness, his humanness… and, as he always had Jean, Eren envied her for it.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you know that you don't get something for nothing," he told her, sipping his drink just to watch the expression on her face as he let the warm blood slide down his throat. "And that dealings with me can be dangerous."

"Jean Kirschtein loved you, Eren Jaeger," she told him fiercely and with such conviction that Eren nearly choked on his drink. "To take such a tone with me, to threaten me, the last living remnant of him, is the most disrespectful thing I've ever heard."

Eren was about to say that he didn't owe her, Jean Kirschtein, or anyone else any sort of respect, but she plowed on, unwilling to let him say his piece.

"You broke his heart a million ways by doing what you did, but— but he was your friend through all of it, no matter what side each of you were on," (Y/N) continued, passion aflame in her eyes. "I can't even imagine what inspired such a love, such a loyalty from him that he would forgive you for the horrors you caused. That's what I'm here to find out— what you have that a man such as him would find you redeemable."

The reproof in her words stung, but Eren was too old to argue. She could never understand what it was like back then.

"I understand more than you think," she snapped, and Eren actually flinched. "I understand that you hurt the woman my grandfather loved immeasurably, and that he forgave you for that even though he never even particularly liked you. I understand that you were ready to sacrifice the world for that selfsame woman, for Jean, and for all the others. I understand that you're a monster who loved and was loved back, but I want to know why."

How? Eren thought, shaken.

How had she known his thoughts? It was as though she had seen straight through to his innermost being.

Without speaking, she answered his question. (Y/N) took a hand and rolled up her left sleeve, presenting to him a scarred marking in the shape of a pentagram.

"My grandfather didn't settle down with just anyone," she told him, holding his gaze. "I come from a line of powerful witches, all of whom possessed strong claircognizance. Paired with my nature as an empath, you can assume I know what you're going to say before you say it."

Eren hummed, trying to appear less perturbed than he was.

"And yet you hunt Creatures for a living; strange, since you're practically one of us yourself."

(Y/N) glowered. "I hunt monsters that prey on my people, not Creatures. No innocent has died by my hand."

The unlike you went unsaid, but that didn't mean that Eren didn't hear it anyway.

"Don't get high-and-mighty with me, girl," he told her roughly. "Knowing is one thing, but experiencing what we experienced is another."

"I'm not here to judge you," she replied. "I told you, I'm here for truth, nothing more."

"And I told you that the truth doesn't come for free," he told her darkly. "You must give me something in return."

(Y/N) set her jaw.

"What would you have of me?"

It was a mean, base request. Eren was wicked for even thinking it, and vile for wanting it— but looking at the great-to-however-many-degrees granddaughter of a good man that he had once known, seeing the vitality that brought a flush to her cheeks and thumping to her heart, he knew he couldn't pass up this golden opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a Companion.

"Become my cupbearer for six moons," he told her, crossing his arms. "Starting with tonight, the moon becomes new; let me drink from you until six of these have passed, and along the way, you will learn what you want to know."

(Y/N) eyed him warily.

"Can you assure my physical safety?"

Eren grunted, almost amused. It was a bit late to be worrying about that.

"I think you know that I can."

"And will you let me continue in my duties as a Hunter?" she asked, her eyes searching his own as if she would find the answer to her question there inside the same eyes he'd had since he was nineteen. "Completely uninhibited?"

"That depends. Will you kill Creatures in the discharge of your duties?"

(Y/N) made a face. Eren had forgotten how expressive mortals could be, but he found that being reminded was not altogether unpleasant.

"You know I will," she replied, "But you have my word that any killing won't be unprovoked."

Eren supposed it was as close to a compromise as he could expect.

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

He turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink, but a lightning-fast hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Swear it," she demanded. "I need us to be Bound by it."

The meanness in Eren finally won over. He reached forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the neck, and the silver rings on her fingers burned him as she pulled at his hand to try and restore her breath. Eyes from all around the room were on the two of them— had been, since the very beginning— but it was only once the Hunter before him began to look appropriately humbled that he withdrew.

"Do not touch me without my permission," he said, "And I will return the favor."

(Y/N) looked at him then, but there was still no fear in her eyes. Anger, yes, but no fear.

She must be mad, or foolish one, he thought, considering her for a moment. I always have been partial to mad fools in general, but…

Something about her seemed different, and Eren didn't know what to do other than accept what she had to offer. Heavens knew he was getting the better end of the deal anyway.

"Swear it," she repeated, this time more quietly. "Give your word, and I will be your cupbearer."

Eren brought his hand up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. At his will, the nail tip of his forefinger sharpened, hardening into a point; he used it to draw an 'X' onto the skin just over where his heart rested inside his chest, cold and dead. Blood welled into the cut— precious little, compared to that of a human, but still enough to run down his chest in smudges— and it was by that blood that he swore. He spoke the terms of their agreement, then took the blood from his wound with the pad of his finger and marked the same spot over (Y/N)'s own heart.

"Satisfied?" he asked, their faces almost touching, and (Y/N) shivered.

"Yes."

Her warm, living breath fanned over his face with her reply, and Eren took the moment to close his eyes and appreciate the scent and sensation of it.

"You may think you're satisfied," he told her, pulling away, "But you don't know the meaning of the word."

She eyed him warily, but before she could speak, he added, "In six months' time, I'll ask you the same question, and it is then that you will truly know what it is to feel satisfied— satiated in every way."

"As you say."

It was a throwaway comment, nothing more than a dismissal, really; but Eren felt like it was the start of something truly remarkable.

[atsuminthe]

I'm up in the middle of the night thinking of thirsts and now I wanna make it your problem too 😤 Also the below is VERY NSFW cause I'm a FUCKING degenerate.

I've been brainstorming about things to write for Kinktober after I finish my current WIP (it's a JJK fic if you're interested 👀) and I really want to do something with exhibitionism and/or voyeurism and I can't get the thought of one of the HQ accidentally catching Reader masturbating. (I'll be using female pronouns for Reader)

Well, it starts off accidental. Like, let's say you two are mutual friends and mesh within the same friend group (I'm think Iwa for this one because of course, I love him, but it could be anyone!) and for the most part it's been pretty platonic. He has a small crush on you that you're unaware of but it's nothing too major and he thinks it'll pass, even if the others occasionally tease him about it.

And I like to imagine the lot of you plus some other friends - like a big, diverse group - decide to take a short vacation and pool some money together to rent a place since it'll be cheaper than booking a hotel stay. And let's be generous and assume you get your own room 😌 Yeah we're rich. Anyway-

Like in the middle of the night, maybe he has to use the bathroom or grab a drink but he hears something that almost sounds like a groan come from your room? His tired brain doesn't register that he should mind his own business but instead thinks you're in pain and he wants to make sure you're okay. The door is already ajar and when he goes to knock the door nudges open a bit and he sees you in the middle of the bed and he kinda just stares.

Cause you're in the middle of the queen-sized bed with one leg up in the air while you're thrusting a dildo in and out of your cunt at quick, steady speed. Thank god you don't see - or notice, you seem pretty distracted - him otherwise he might combust.

And immediately he wants to back away and pretend like he never saw anything, maybe rub one out real quick, and try to look you in the eye tomorrow.

But at the same time, like...you sounds so wet. He can hear the wet sounds of you fucking yourself from where he is and the soft moans and whimpers coming from your lips, and oh god you're talking dirty to yourself ("Please, Daddy," and "Gimme it," and "Keep going,") and to him that's so fucking hot.

So he just...watches. He licks his lips because the idea of you even bringing that with you spurs so many ideas in his mind and shakes what he thought he knew about you to his core. It wasn't like he didn't think you had sex or desires or anything like that but you seemed so...balanced? Put together? You had a good head on your shoulders and were an absolute sweetheart - it's what he likes most about you - and while it wasn't like he's never thought of you sexually before, but you seemed like the kind of person that's pretty vanilla in bed. He can see that he's mistaken.

He hears you twitch and moan and he feels like an awful pervert when he can feel how painfully hard he is when you cum, how messy and wet you sound as you bury your face in the covers to muffle yourself, and he stops to gather himself so he can creep back to bed without drawing attention to himself and jerk off.

And he...almost does. He's a couple of steps away while you're gathering yourself when he hears you whimper again. And shortly afterwards, a faint buzzing.

He stops. You're...going again? Really? Already? But he's already about to leave...this is an invasion of your privacy and he's a pervert and he should feel horrible for this but-

He stays behind to watch, this time with his cock out.

And the day afterwards he feels like the scum of the earth when he sees you so bright and cheery when you tell everyone you slept like a baby - and he thinks 'Yeah, after masturbating three times in a row-'

He tries to be normal throughout the day when one of your friends tells you about how stressed she's been and how she doesn't understand how well you're able to handle it and to share your secret. He sinks down in his chair and he tries not to get hard while you give some general advice, but then throw in, "Although sometimes I need...alternative methods to relax, y'know?"

And then you sharply call his name. And when he looks at you his blood goes cold. Because normally you're sweet, kind and generous and give whatever advice you can, so why are you looking at him like the cat that ate the canary-

"You'd know all about that, though, right? How do you relieve stress?"

You're smirk is sly - when did you look so predatory? - and he can't breathe because oh.

You knew.

(Also if this is too much for a thirst I totally apologize! I don't want to make you uncomfortable! 😫)

HOLY SHIT LILY THIS WAS GORGEOUS i loved every second of it. this was all just chef’s kiss mhm mhm now i’ll think about this all day <3

this is definitely akaashi, MEIAN, bokuto, the miya twins, tbh i can see sakusa here too, hoshiumi, THE SEIJOH FOUR (yes all of them) and kuroo

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU

Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)

Part 1: Ed Kemper.

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon

word count: 3.9K

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.

He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.

Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.

14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.

All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.

The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.

To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.

She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.

"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”

It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.

“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”

"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.

He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Hmm?" He turned around.

"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.

"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."

He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.

"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."

"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."

"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.

"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.

"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."

"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.

"I know." She smiled back at him.

The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.

"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."

He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.

"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"

They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked. 

Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.

"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."

"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."

He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”

"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.

"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."

"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."

"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."

"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."

The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.

"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.

He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"

"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.

"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."

He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.

"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."

"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."

Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.

"Why?" A student asked.

"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."

"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."

"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"

"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.

"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."

The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.

"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."

"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."

"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.

"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.

"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."

"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.

"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""

"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."

"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.

"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.

“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."

"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.

"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"

"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."

Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.

"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."

"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."

"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.

"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."

"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.

"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."

Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.

"Any questions?"

Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."

Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."

"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."

"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."

"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.

“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.

Another student put her hand up, “what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”

That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”

“What did he do?”

Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”

The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.

“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”

Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.

“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”

The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.

“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”

“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”

He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”

Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”

“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.

“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.

Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”

“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."

“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.

“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Who’s your father?”

“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.

“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.

She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”

“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.

“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”

He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile

She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”

“I’d love to.”

taglist: (message me if you want to be added or removed)

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[rose-colored-amy]

So, this is a continuation to my extremely short one-shot Last Moments, Last Regrets, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Regardless, I'll leave the link of that one in here:

Also, thanks to @coeurhh for suggesting I write a second part. You're a sweetheart 🥰

She made a lovely fanart/gif, which I'm also sharing, of course:

Prompt: AU. Sakura's death goes unnoticed to everyone but the squad she protected with her life and Tsunade. Team Kakashi doesn't find out until the very end, when Naruto and Sasuke have already had their fight, and there's nothing to do about it but mourn the absence.

Warning: Mild Sasusaku and lots of angst. Team 7 sort-of-fluff (?)

—Blue Bird, Let Go—

"Hey, bastard... I know they really let us down, the village, I mean."

"Aa... "

"But I really think it's not all that bad. When we were I team, I knew you understood. It felt like having a brother, believe it."

They were watching their lives go by, shadows of unknown faces passing by them, not noticing their pain, or not caring whatsoever. Their backs were touching, but it was all cold and bleak; a bad memory. A clan slaughtered, a demon sealed. Two lonely boys wallowing in their own sadness.

"Well, even if I don't make it, I'm glad it was you, bastard—"

"Shut up, idiot." His voice sounded strained, even for his standards, but Sasuke was so tired he couldn't even bring himself to care.

"We're really dying, ah? Wanna say something? I do have things to say, 'cause there's no way I'm dying—"

"In silence?" Sasuke interrupted, but Naruto payed him no mind.

"Without telling you how much of an asshole you've been! I couldn't even keep my promise to Sakura-chan! She's gonna be so damn mad when she finds out, I'm sure she'll drag me back to life just to cave my face in—" He was rambling at that point, but it was just so comforting and normal to Sasuke that he didn't even acknowledge it anymore.

"Hn. Sakura... She..."

"She still loves you, asshole. I don't have any idea how it can be possible but—"

"I'm sorry..." It sounded rushed, but Naruto heard it perfectly, and in the darkness of their shared consciousness, Sasuke heard a resigned sigh.

"Well, it's not that bad. I cannot imagine dying beside anyone but you, bastard."

"Idiot..." He made a pause. "Me neither."

"You're both a pair of idiots!"

Suddenly, the unreadable mass of unrecognizable faces around them cleared, and one figure stood in front of them, pink eyebrows frowned in annoyance. Though this version of Sakura looked familiar, it was one none of the boys had seen in a long time. Genin, long-haired, Sakura was glaring at them, arms crossed.

"Sakura-chan! What are you doing in here?!"

Her eyes softened. "What, so I'm supposed to let you two die, after everything? No way in hell!"

"Sakura..."

"You!" She pointed at Sasuke, who flinched slightly at her rudeness. "I don't know what the hell happened, but I don't care. Lighten up and start being your moody self. We love you just like that! Don't act so repented and shit! If you're sorry stop looking like a lost puppy and start doing something about it, you asshole!" Her voice was raising with madness and it was slightly off putting to see what used to be a stuttering lovestruck preteen talking to him like that.

Naruto snorted at that, obviously delighted for not being at the receiving end of her wrath for once. It was short-lived, however.

"And you!" She pointed at the blonde; then crossed her arms. He jumped back in fright. "What is this? How dare you even consider dying after you promised to be the best goddamned Hokage in history?! Here I am, rooting for you, while you lay around like a lazy pig with your edgy bro there. You should be ashamed of yourself!" She scoffed.

Naruto's mouth was so wide open he could have caught a fly. "Lazy pig? Are you kidding?!"

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, half amused, half annoyed. "Edgy?"

Suddenly, the edges of their vision began to blurr, like a genjutsu being unravelled. "Ah, someone came to help you at last." Sakura seemed relieved. Strangely so.

"Hey, Sakura-chan! You know what? You're right. I'll be the best damn Hokage ever, believe it! Just you watch!" He threw a punch to the air.

Seemingly placated and pleased with his answer, she nodded. "I know so." Then, she turned to her other teammate, who was concentrating solely on her face, mismatched eyes softened as they'll ever be. "And you'll make sure he doesn't mess up, right?"

They shared a long silence. There was something strange about Sakura aside her appearance. He could tell. "Hn. I will..."

"Hey! I don't need him watching over—"

"Sure you don't." He countered sarcastically.

"Also..." They turned to her again. "I'm sorry."

"Wha—" Naruto stuttered. "What the hell would you be sorry for, Sakura-chan?! If anything, it's the bastard here who should be apologizing to you!"

"Sakura..." Sasuke seemed to be searching for the right words, but she couldn't let them go without them listening to her. To what she needed them to know. There wasn't much time left after all.

"I'm sorry, because I wasn't what you needed..." She closed her eyes, her pretty minty orbs. Her appearance suddenly shifted, before then now standing her true self, still dressed in the standard shinobi uniform of the alliance. Her forehead protector lost to whoever knows where. "And thank you. You both made me stronger. You made me appreciate what I had. And I'll always, always love you. Our moments together like team seven... I'll treasure them for all eternity."

"Sakura-chan..."

"I know Konoha wasn't the best to you both, but don't forget the good... The wholesome moments. It's all that matters in the end... Our bonds, the bonds you managed to forge with sweat and blood... The world we live in, the world that gave me the chance to meet you. To me, that's to be cherished. Forever."

The white light started overwhelming the rest. Even Sakura's features started dissapearing.

"Live. Just live." For that, she specifically stared at Sasuke, a soft smile playing on her lips. "And thank you."

Sasuke started racing towards her, hand stretched, a forebonding understanding shaking his bones. "Sakura!"

And then, they both lost consciousness.

When they woke up, aside from feeling like shit, the first thing that crossed their minds what the finality of Sakura's words. Tsunade was beside them, patching them up, with Kakashi beside her, silently watching over them.

"About time, brats! What were you think—"

"Baa-san." Naruto interrupted her, his voice the most serious she had heard him until then.

"Where's Sakura?" Sasuke finished for him, his eyes icy and detached, trying to keep his worry at bay.

But she didn't need to answer. Her chakra flow hesitated, spiking with sorrow. Her eyes glistening with unbearable loss. Kakashi, at her side, stared, eyes widened in comprehension.

She was gone by a long shot.

And they were just finding out.

...

Everybody had different ways of dealing with loss. Naruto helped rebuild the village along with everyone else, but he skipped his usual meals, his ramen left forgotten in his kitchen counter. His movements when sparring were sloppy at best, not just because of the new prosthetic limb, but also because his mind was clearly somewhere else. Usually, Shikamaru would drag him out his makeship house, like he had done when Jiraija was gone for good. Sometimes, he would bring Ino with him, who was suspiciously skinny and messier than normal. No makeup covering the dark circles under her eyes.

Kakashi spent more than usual at the memorial stone every day, tracing the newly marked name of the girl who once remained him of Rin but that had come to claim a place for herself in his heart. Also, he took more missions than it was allowed in a month, going so far as to pick up his ANBU mask again, which caused an altercation with Tsunade, who hadn't been sober in a long time and had been hoping to hand the Hokage seat to him.

Sai avoided the color pink for a long time.

Sasuke... Well, he dealed with loss the same as everyone else... Longing for the missing person to be there, itching to have the opportunity to say what he couldn't at the time. Wanting to be alone whenever they would reach for him... And he built a tomb for her in hopes to find some closure. Not that official, because there wasn't a body to bury, and it had no name, but it was enough for him. He would bring with him camellias every day, buying them at the Yamanaka's, where Ino would always glance at him in silent understanding.

One morning, on his way to her tomb, he spotted a young shinobi leaving a white lilly for her. When he came by, the child spoke without a care, like they were acquaintances. "This is Sakura-san's, right?"

"Hn." It wasn't really an answer, but the child seemed to understand anyway.

"You know? Mama and big sister are also buried in these grounds... I always talk to them and tell them about my day and stuff I want them to know!" He turned to the Uchiha, a smirk on his cherubic face. "I'm sure she would appreciate it as well." And just like that, he left without another word.

Sasuke sat on the ground, just in front of the stone, mismatched eyes half lidded. Sensing no one in the vicinity, he exaled a shaky breath, and his dam opened up, the words longing to be said broke the silence he had been wrapping around himself since he knew of her death:

"I miss you... I've been missing you since I first left."

[thegeminisage]

what do you think are some of the biggest pieces of evidence for cas being ace? i've watched so much of the show in the past month that it all blurs together, lol, so i can't remember many specific scenes. i do remember "i'm utterly indifferent to sexual orientation" (though that wasn't about his own orientation) and cas' discomfort at idea of sleeping with women at the bordello in 5.03... anything else you can think of? I'd be interested to hear your thoughts!

rubs my hands together okay a List yeah i can do a list

wait actually first i wanna say that the biggest reason is because i’m asexual and i said so 0:) like i know that sounds a joke and it is a little bit but SERIOUSLY it’s just a general Aura or what the fuck ever about people. you know how sometimes a friend group formed in teenage years will one by one realize they’re all queers and they just grouped together organically? ace people are like that too. many of my closest friends have been aspec and i didnt even know that when i met them, THEY didn’t even know. but like if you asked me to list the ten people i was closest to over my life the huge majority would be aspec like me. we find each other In The Wild. so when i say he’s ace because i said so like i’m saying I’m Ace And I Can See Him. He Is Ace Because I Said So. my ace-dar is EXCELLENT

okay anyway with that out of the way here’s your actual list. obviously much of this can be a point in favor of many different readings of cas (and i’m not saying those can’t be true at the same time as ace cas!), but i’m ace and he’s ace and that’s what this post is about so i’m focusing on the ace parts. thank you.

list of ace cas evidence:

in general cas has a lot of trouble connecting with humanity at first which is an ENORMOUS ace mood

when dean cracks in the 4.01 deleted scene “yeah i have that problem with women” (after cas talks about the difficult in finding a vessel that can contain him) cas absolutely does not get that joke. we were having ace cas moments right from the get-go

it’s shown as early as 4.02 that cas doesn’t understand personal space. this is him not getting one single thing about human intimacy works and that he’s overstepping a boundary. it’s not just that he’s an angel (though that’s some of it) he just doesn’t intuitively understand physical stuff like that

that dean/anna kiss in 4.10. LOOK AT HIS FACE. that’s a face that says “i had no idea this is how humans were intimate with each other” and also “do i want to try that?” answer: maybe. dean’s very pretty. but something about it just feels like he’s going “whoa i never even CONSIDERED that” - like that to be sexy with the humans he’s into just didn’t occur to him

i know you said so already but WOW 5.03 brothel scene. THEEE ace cas moment

i’d also like to take a moment to tip my hat to 5.04. almost every aspec will have had a period of frustration and self-loathing where they thought at least once about maybe just having sex they weren’t into as a way to be “fixed” or to prove something. when aspecs are at their lowest and most broken, they are having sex they do not want to have. and when cas is at his lowest and most broken (in 5.04 AND 9.03, thank you), what is he doing? having sex! it’s just Interesting to me that the only times cas fucks is when he’s literally in the absolute worst points in his entire life 

also, i’m getting out of order here, but that thing in 9.03 was absolutely rape. the way he talked about it after was THEEE most comphet bullshit i’ve ever seen. “that was nice.” “she was...sooo hot.” dean winchester can’t fool me and neither can cas thee tiel. 

i know everyone was uncomfortable with the cherub in 5.14 but cas was SUPER uncomfortable. “no one likes it” yeah that’s cause he’s not a big touchy-feely dude 

i actually really hate that porn scene in 6.10, but it is a classic “i don’t get it” moment + a side of “monkey see monkey do” later when he decides to mimic it and kiss meg. she started it - he’s just going “oh yeah i remember watching that on TV - like this, right?” he’s pleased with himself for correctly mastering a form of human interaction, he’s not, like, horny. 

didn’t get the erectile dysfunction joke in 6.19

obviously, godstiel’s utter indifference to sexual orientation

strongly implied to be in a chaste marriage with his “wife” daphne when he was an amesniac

being repeatedly lobotomized in season 8 is its own can of worms. they were trying to make him straight. alas, it cannot be done

meg propositions him in season 8 and it takes him a bit to catch on. i don’t think accepting means he’s not ace, just that he’s interested in stuff humans do. would have been nice for his first time not to be with a psycho reaper who got him to trade his virginity for a pb&j :/

cas seemed REALLY nervous at the prospect of the date in 9.06, almost like it was something he had to steel himself to do - yet another weird part of human life he was resigning himself to, especially after metatron told him “go find a wife and have some babies” when his grace was taken

cas in season 10 is UTTERLY oblivious to hannah’s advances, even the ones that include nudity (and his own nudity at one point lol), and when he finally catches on he lets her down in the most awkward way possible

in season 11 he says he’s gonna take dean’s temperature and doesn’t see how that’s weird lol

he never got to truly speak to dean about his weird “””attraction””” to amara but i like to think he would have been equally confused

in season 12 in the hotel room where an orgy had clearly just taken place dean snickers and picks up the panties but cas is totally oblivious

ALSO completely oblivious when the waitress hits on him in season 12

this is a little bit of a stretch, but despite being named as jack’s “real” father, his relationship with kelly, his ostensible baby mama by proxy, seemed INCREDIBLY platonic to me. like they were such good buds! but he never had any of that romantic chemistry with her - there were no lingering notes or touches or whatever. he just wasn’t interested in that same way. 

exasperated with gabriel and talking about porn stars in season 13 lol

canonically, castiel spent seasons 4-?? falling in love with dean, but he never made a move on him physically - yeah yeah the CW is homophobic but i like to think that most of castiel’s Urges where dean is involved are not in fact of a sexual nature. he wants to be close to him and important to him more than he wants to fuck him. you can long for someone in the ace way without longing for them sexually yk

this is part of why i actually really liked the 15.18 confession - the happiness was in the being, or whatever. he was already WITH dean in almost every way that mattered (i wrote a fic about this). they shared secrets, they shared burdens, they lived together, they fought and worked together, they even raised a fucking kid together! cas was convinced he couldn’t have more than that but also he didn’t really NEED much more than that and thinking about how he had been with dean all along was what made him happy enough to literally die. yeah there’s a version of that scene where the reciprocation was enough to do it but they accidentally hacked it into an ace love scene so i will TAKE it

this concludes my list! i bet it’s a lot longer than u were expecting

[spn masterpost]

edit: a few updates

[babylooneytoonz]

Author's Note: I got this as a request, but decided to turn this into a fic. Thank you to whoever this person was who requested it. 💗

Summary: Your first meeting with Sergeant Barnes wasn't exactly charming, hell, it was a disaster. And the only adjectives that came to your mind when you thought about him were words like prick, bastard and a jackass. He made your life hell, and you lived to make sure you made him suffer. And neither of you realized, how your sole mission of tormenting each other became the most important part of your life.

Set somewhere after Avengers Civil War. My book does not follow the storyline, and will not include the events of Infinity War and Endgame. I do not take credit for any of the characters, except for my OC/Reader.

Warnings: 18+ [Will include SMUT, curses and violence] // Bucky Barnes is an ass

Coffee Stains - Masterlist

Coffee Stains

You almost didn't realize how late it was; the sun had set hours back, and the moon was now shining bright, pale white glow radiating from its cheeks like White ivory spread over the ground outside. You finally decided to stop working, and instead head home. So, you shut your laptop, pushing your glasses over the bridge of your nose, and finally stood up. The SHEILD headquarters was still hustling and bustling with people. People kept walking past your office door, most of them in a hurry as you joined them in the hallway, making your way towards the elevator.

Your father had worked for SHEILD, having been one of the building blocks, along with Nick Fury, and now you, being his daughter, there was nothing more you had ever wanted to do but to dedicate yourself entirely to SHEILD. So here you were, associated with SHEILD, for almost two years now.

You didn't realize when in the bubble of your mind, the kinesis of your thoughts, a woman had stepped out of her office and was making her way towards you, but not after having called your name almost three times. When she reached the elevator, she let out a soft huff, which was enough to finally put you out of your trance.

"Maria, I'm sorry, didn't see you there," you retorted, a little flustered and pink at the cheeks.

The woman almost gave you a tight lipped smile, and slowly, her long, slender arms came to cross on her chest, her left foot almost tapping against the tiled floor of the headquarters, "I've been calling your name, you didn't respond. You alright?"

You thought for a moment, your glossy eyes looking down at her feet before back up on her face again, and nodded, "Yeah, yeah, just thinking. Is there anything you needed?"

"Not me, Fury wanted to see you before you left."

You nodded, pursing your lips slightly and gave her a ghost of a smile before taking a step back and craning your neck towards Fury's office once and then back, " Well then, I guess I'll pay the boss a visit." The two of you exchanged a light hearted chuckle, and you waved Maria off as she stepped into the elevator with two more agents, and you slowly made your way up to Nick Fury's office.

You stood awkwardly at the glass door, bringing your palm up to the glass and knocking on it. Inside the office, the bald headed man with a patch on one of his eyes slowly looked up, and when he saw you, a hint of a smile broke out on his lips as he nodded, and you stepped in.

"You wanted to see me?"

You and Fury shared an easy going relation; he reminded you of your dad, for the two of them had served together before your dad was killed in action, and ever since, Nick Fury had taken it upon him, to watch over you like a father figure.

"Come on in Y/N, I wanted to speak to you."

Shutting the door, you walked up to where he was seated and slowly lowered yourself on the empty chair in front of him, your elbows coming to rest on the surface of the desk.

"So– " He began, sitting back more comfortably, and also to keep a better eye at your expressions and reactions, "With Natasha Romanoff out on a mission, the Avengers are in need of a dire back up agent."

Your eyebrow shot up at his words, not understanding where he was getting at. As though he sensed your confusion, he continued, "A position is open. The Avengers are looking for someone to join the team. And I recommended your name."

It was as though your ears managed to block out every word that Fury said except for the part that he had recommended your name. Avengers had only been a distant dream for you till now. They really intrigued you; and you had done your research on almost everyone of them, except for the newbies of course that you hadn't had the chance to meet. Your lips parted in surprise, and a soft gush of air managed to escape your lips.

"Fury, I – I don't know."

"They asked us for the best we've got, and although it's been a long time we've sent you on our mission, you're the best we've got. I couldn't say no," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood for he was now able to sense that you were starting to get nervous.

"Holy shit." You finally managed to form words, not the best choice of words that you could have formed, but you were so surprised, you didn't know what to say.

"Rest up, Y/N. Tomorrow, we go to the Avengers Towers, and meet your new team."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

The next day, you woke up earlier than you usually did, but you knew that it was your part excitement part anxiety bubbling up that had kept you tossing and turning in bed all night. You had gone over all the possible scenarios that could happen today, at the Avengers Towers, on why the Avengers would think that you weren't cut out for this. You were really good, there was no doubt about that; you were trained in hand to hand combat, espionage, you were good with weapons, with the small guns and also the big ones; you could say you were pretty good with your sniping skills. But, you hadn't been on a mission for the SHEILD in a long time, especially not after your messy divorce with Wallis, your ex husband who had been your colleague and your partner at SHEILD, the one person you always went on missions with. It had taken you a long time to come out of the emotional trauma that came with a separation, and to worsen it all, he had been the one that you had caught with another woman in your bed, on a night you almost escaped death, on one of your solo missions.

You were already dressed and ready by the time you were picked up and dropped off at the Stark Towers, with Fury by your side.

You wouldn't lie if you would say that you were starstruck, by just a look at the exterior of it. It was heavenly. And the interior. You didn't even want to comment on it, it was that breathtaking, a complete opposite to the SHEILD headquarters.

"Like it?" Fury chuckled next to you, breaking your thought process, and a faint hue of a blush to grace your cheeks. As the two of you got into the elevator, you turned around and gasped slightly at the sight of the entire city of Manhattan right there in front of your eyes, from a little glass box.

"Friday, Tony's lab, please. Thank you."

"Right away, Director, and Miss Y/N," the AI chortled back, causing your eyes to widen even further. Friday was like a celebrity to you, and now finally you were here, at a place you had only dreamt of being, and the reality was slowly sinking in.

The elevator pinged open, and Fury was the first one to step out, followed by you as the two of you walked into what looked like a really high technology lab. Your eyes marvelled at the sight, and you just looked around, your eyes scanning through it all, your mind still in a daze.

"Welcome, welcome to my humble abode," there he was, the man himself, the man behind all of this, the famous Tony Stark. Although you had met him before, and Steve and Natasha as well, it was back at the SHEILD headquarters.

"Tony Stark, long time no see."

"Well, I've been busy you see," he smirked smugly at you, but soon, a small smile paved its way over his lips and he slowly engulfed you in a warm hug.

"Welcome home, I always did say to Fury."

"What?" You raised an eyebrow, side glancing your boss, who was, for a change, having a smile of his own over his lips.

"You always belonged with us, here at the Avengers Towers. He never really let you go," he gave Fury a look and then, his friendly demeanor altogether changed and a professional look took over his face, his features turning stoic. "Now Fury have you spoken to her about her trainings?"

"Not yet."

"Great, so–" Tony dramatically clapped his hands together, "With a great position comes great responsibilities."

"With power you mean?" You chuckled.

"Yes yes. And that," he winked playfully, only to straighten up again. "But that power needs to be harnessed. You will be put into training, like all the newbies we get and we will get to decide when and if you have what it takes to be one of us."

Fury nodded, and you looked at him, noting how he was beaming at you, like a proud father, causing your confidence to boost up as you nodded in Tony's direction.

"When do we start?"

"Hold that thought, ah, Friday? Can you please ask Captain to join us, please?"

"Right away, Mr. Stark." The AI replied.

"Well then, so that fixes it."

A comfortable silence fell over the lab and Tony walked off to look at something on one of his screens. You fixed yourself by the glass staring out at the picturesque view of the city of Manhattan. It wasn't long when you heard heavy footsteps behind you, and finally when you heard Fury greet Steve, you realized he had joined the lot of you. The minute you turned around, your eyes fell on him and with a soft smile, you nodded in his direction, "Mr. Rogers."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Bucky wasn't having the best day.

At first, he had woken up to bone chilling nightmare. If that wasn't all, he had taken his motorcycle out for a ride, and somehow he had parked it when he had reached the cliff, and made his way to the edge to just stare at the horizon, when someone had somehow managed to steal the bike. And if that wasn't the worst part of the day, he was sexually frustrated and utterly sex deprived as he had just returned yesterday from almost a month long mission.

Sam being the nice person he was, had tried to warn most of te people to stay out of Bucky's way today; because today, he was really biting.

But he really hadn't warned you.

Because he still didn't know who you were.

After having met with Steve in Tony's lab, Fury had left, and Steve had opted to walk you around the facility, until he had dropped you off at your apartment on the seventh floor. He had told you that you were to share this floor with a few of the Avengers, but he was in a hurry so he had asked you to come find him later in the evening. Besides, you had to be ready to train with him today at 7 in the evening.

It was already 5 by the time you stepped into your apartment; your eyes widening in awe when you saw the interior of it. The furniture was sleek and modern, made out of the best quality of wood there could be, and the walls were painted a spotless white, numerous abstract paintings hanging on the walls.

You gotta hand it to Tony, the man sure did have a taste.

It didn't take you long to fill the walk in closet up with your clothes, and even after filling up the two bags that you had brought over, you couldn't help but marvel at how much space the closet still had for more stuff, giving you an inspiration to shop for a dozen more outfits. However, now wasn't the time to think about it, and instead you decided to grab yourself a mug of coffee from the kitchen, so you could be alert and fresh for your training session with Captain.

Whistling to yourself, and with the help of Friday, you did manage to find your way to the massive kitchen, adjoining the spacious recreation room that was empty when you reached. Walking into the kitchen, you filled up your mug with piping hot coffee to the brim, and lifted the mug up, walking out of the kitchen.

Little did you know that a mistake was bound to happen on your first day here.

Bucky had just stepped out of the gym, dressed in a tight white tank top and his joggers, his hair all sweaty and sticking to his face. At first he had decided to hop right into the shower, and maybe get a little frisky, but at the last moment, he finally gave up on that idea, having decided to stall the shower for a little more time so he could grab himself a granola bar from the kitchen.

Although his feet made a lot of ruckus as he walked into the recreation room, and towards the kitchen, but perhaps you were so engrossed in licking your lips, eyeing the mug of coffee in your hands that you failed to hear him come in.

You stepped out of the kitchen at the exact same time when he tried to enter, and you ended up crashing into him, your hot coffee spilling all over his white tank, causing a massive stain.

Bucky cursed as the coffee came in contact with his flesh, a faint hissing sound escaping from his lips, which was probably due to the burn that he could now feel on his abs. His eyes turned venomous instantly, and his face contorted in fury.

"Even with a pair of glasses on, you still cannot watch where you going?" He barked at you, in a rude tone.

You looked at the stain on his abs, and then back up at him, not failing to notice the blue in his eyes, mentally cursing yourself for how clumsy you were.

"I – I'm really sorry, I –" You started stammering, only to be cut off by him again.

"Your sorry won't fix the mess you made, would it?" Sarcasm dripped through his words, and now, you were starting to feel how this man was simply overreacting. You spilling a piping hot mug of coffee over him wasn't really that much of a big deal, was it?

"Let me wash it –"

"We have machines that does that stuff for us, you really don't have to bother. Now, if you don't mind, you are in my way," the blue eyed man simply huffed, his face slowly turning cold and emotionless, as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching you and waiting for you to move out of his way. Maybe you weren't that fast in moving; and you understood this when you felt him roughly push himself past you, ignoring the way you fell to your side by the weight of his body, almost crashing against the doorframe and hurting your side.

"Really? Did you just fucking push me?"

This time, you turned around, your eyes contorted in fury, and your lips laced together, in a hope that pressing your lips together like that would stop your curses from flowing out.

"Would you rather have had me jump over you? You aren't exactly small."

He had his back now turned towards you, his body bent over the fridge as he callously moved his hands through the contents of the fridge.

"Prick."

Shaking your head, you took a step away, leaving the now empty mug of coffee on the slab before making your way out of the kitchen.

You were fuming.

(Feedback is always appreciated.)

Want to be added to any of my taglists? Please fill out the form on this link. 💗

[squadrablog]

ok I've joined the Ghiaccio hype train, could I request a Ghiaccio fic with a reader who doesn't like sudden loud noises and will definitely cry if you yell at them? they're really intimidated by Ghiaccio but they're comfortable with the rest of La Squadra, so he's struggling to be a good team member to someone who's always nervous around him. feel free to make it romantic or platonic, your writing is amazing!! 💕💕

Here you are! With the stuff I ended up focusing on I thought that shoehorning a romance in would feel weird, so I focused more on exploring the beginnings of a platonic friendship with him. Lots of awkward Ghiaccio and miscommunication but it all ends up good. :^)

Ghiaccio & Reader (platonic, gender neutral)

Ao3 Mirror Here.

Word Count: 3921

Warnings: Reader has childhood trauma w/ loud noises, not gone into in depth. Assassination job implied but doesn’t happen in text.

Under cut for length!

The last thing you saw yourself doing with your life was becoming an assassin, but here you were. You were a tough kid, scrappy and resourceful when it came down to it, but only because you had to be to get by. You always thought you’d eventually leave that old life behind. The gunshots echoing into the night from rival mafias squaring off to claim the neighborhood you lived in as their territory. The shouts from the man who took you in when you had nowhere else to go, only to berate you when you failed to pick enough pockets to meet his quotas. The way the older and meaner children would torment you, taunt and deride you, whenever you let your vulnerability show.

And you had, more or less, left those parts of it behind at least. When you joined Passione as a last ditch effort to survive you were given a sense of stability that you had never had before, and after initiation when your stand manifested as something powerful and deadly, it didn’t take too long for you to get placed into La Squadra di Esecuzione, Passione’s team of elite assassins. 

As a stand user working with other stand users you rarely relied on guns to get your work done. You were no longer struggling to get by, and although your new Capo held his team to high standards he made sure you had ample training and was patient with you while you were still getting your footing. All your teammates were surprisingly supportive; even if they were wary of outsiders, when it came to their own family they looked out for each other.

It was a dangerous life, not without its own anxieties, but it was a much quieter life. It was a life in the shadows, with a roof over your head, with work that allowed you to use stealth and silence. Even if you couldn’t exactly say you were thrilled about being an assassin you were at least surrounded by people who genuinely cared about you now, watched over by a man who never raised his voice at you for things outside your control, and most comforting of all: you never needed to use a gun.

Not all loud noises set you off, just the ones that reminded you of the violent instability of your childhood and the cruelty of your guardian and peers. Your new teammates could get pretty noisy and spirited, but the boisterous and jovial nature of their laughter, even from their more intense teasing, was a comforting change of pace. You didn’t doubt your value or the fact they respected you.

Well, mostly. There was one teammate who was a bit harder for you to let your guard down around.

His name was Ghiaccio, and to say he was loud would be an understatement. When you first met him he had been a bit standoffish, but so were Risotto and Prosciutto. You knew it would take some time for everyone to accept you as a real part of the squad, and you were ready to be patient. But as you quietly observed everyone for those first few weeks, getting a feel for their individual personalities and their dynamics with each other, you found yourself very intimidated by Ghiaccio. He was able to pal around with the rest of them, even if he was gruff as a default, but when something upset him it was like a switch had been flipped.

He was critical of his squadmates’ performance out in the field, and he never hesitated to offer his critiques regardless of how little anyone wanted to hear them. He was critical of the way people talked, constantly nitpicking everyone’s pronunciations and word choice. He was critical of the way that chores around the house got done, judging everyone’s efforts by timeliness and thoroughness.

Everyone was able to brush him off most of the time without problem. When they actually valued what he had to say they never seemed to take the mean way he said it personally. They’d had plenty of time to get used to him and sift through the bullshit. They knew when something actually mattered to him and when something was just him blowing off steam for the sake of it. They knew when it was fair to ask him to shut up and when it was best to let him get it out of his system.

You steeled yourself as best as you could in those first few weeks, just telling yourself you needed some time to understand his quirks like the rest of your squad did, but your opinion changed immediately after your first mission with him.

“Is Prosciutto teaching you anything?” he barked out at you after you two finally managed to take out your hit. You flinched and looked away from his intense gaze. You were a bit anxious about being alone with him for the first time, and you wanted to give him your best effort to impress him, but being on so on edge caused you to make some big mistakes.

“Well?” he demanded when you said nothing. You had assumed it was a rhetorical question.

“Y-yes?” you stuttered out.

“Then you’re the one accountable for fucking up today. What the hell was that?” he asked, his question ending in something similar to a snarl.

Something that was different about working with Ghiaccio as opposed to working with the others was that he argued out loud to no one in particular about random topics that pissed him off. At first you thought he was expecting you to talk to him about how nonsensical some phrase was that Formaggio used before the two of you left, and you listened attentively, but he never gave you any room to respond. Eventually you realized he wasn’t really conversing, just yelling to yell. It was very distracting and it only made you fidget and lose focus.

“I… well…” you choked out. “It’s usually quieter… on my missions, since my stand is- well, since my stand is made for stealth and-”

“Me talking prevented you from doing your job correctly?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. You just shrunk even deeper within yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was insinuate your mistake had been his fault. There was no way that wouldn’t provoke his ire.

“N-no! You didn’t do anything wrong! It was me, I’m really sorry! It won’t happen again!” you squeaked out.

“Better not,” he grumbled sarcastically with a huff before turning to walk down the street towards his car. You followed, keeping a good distance behind him, not looking forward to the ride back to the base.

---

That had been weeks ago. While you had been doing a decent job at tolerating Ghiaccio before that mission, afterwards was a different story. You actively avoided him, checking if he was in rooms before entering, excusing yourself when he came into a room you were already in, shutting yourself in your room upstairs when you heard him start up on a rant somewhere on the main floor.

Eventually it was shamelessly (or perhaps shamefully) obvious to just about everyone.

“Dude, what happened on your mission with them?” Formaggio asked in a hushed tone one time after your footsteps had disappeared up the stairs. “They’re terrified of you.”

“How the fuck should I know? They haven’t said anything to me about it,” Ghiaccio shot back.

“Uh, yeah, duh. That’s what I’m saying. They won’t even sit in the same room as you,” Formaggio muttered.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, scrunching up his eyebrows. “But it’s not like they talk much to begin with.”

“Are you kidding?” Illuso interjected, inserting himself into his two teammates’ conversation, much to Ghiaccio’s annoyance. “I can get them to prattle on for hours about themself. They’re a real chatterbox once you get to know them.”

“Illuso, dude, have they told you the story about their mission with Pesci down at the wharf?” Formaggio asked with a big grin.

“Fuck, I almost forgot about that,” Illuso replied with a chuckle. “What about the time where-”

“Hey! Shut up for a second,” Ghiaccio snapped. “We’re all talking about the same person, right?”

Upon being interrupted Illuso narrowed his eyes at Ghiaccio before turning to Formaggio. “It’s obviously because of Ghiaccio’s poorly controlled rage. Have you ever seen the poor thing freeze up over a gunshot before?”

“No, but I can imagine. One time I tried scaring them from behind and it took them ten whole minutes to recover,” Formaggio responded.

“I haven’t done shit to them, what possible reason do they have to be scared of me?” Ghiaccio asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, what happened on that mission?” Formaggio asked again.

“It was pretty standard, I killed the bastard while they assisted. They did fuck up pretty bad, which is typical during training, so I pointed it out for their benefit. Then we left,” Ghiaccio recounted. “Nothing else happened.”

Formaggio raised an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“I don’t know! I think I asked if Prosciutto was doing his job right since they didn’t seem too confident. I asked if there was anything that might have contributed to their lackluster performance, but after thinking it over they said that it was on them.”

“Sounds pretty level headed and analytical of you,” Illuso said, stroking his chin. “Are you sure that’s how you said it?”

“Probably not in so many words, I was probably more casual about it,” Ghiaccio grumbled. “Why does it matter how I said it? What’s important is what I said.”

“Ghiaccio, your brand of casual is a few decibels above what’s average,” Illuso said.

“Not to mention the casual expletives, or the casual sarcasm,” Formaggio added. “Are you sure you didn’t casually tell them to go fuck themself without realizing it?”

“No! I mean, if I was stern with them it was in the context of training!” Ghiaccio insisted.

“Are we being trained right now? Is that why you’re yelling at us?” Illuso asked with a smirk.

“This is just how I talk!” Ghiaccio said, bringing a hand up to his temple. “Ugh, I don’t fucking know! Maybe I yelled at them? I remember being very straightforward. They seemed kind of on edge, but I just assumed that’s how they always are!” He dropped his hand and turned to look at his two teammates. “Are they really not like that on missions with you?”

“Not anymore,” Illuso said with a shrug. “At first a bit, but they’re pretty reliable now.”

“You’ve got to go slow with them. They’re easily set off, but if they know they can count on you they’re able to push through it,” Formaggio said.

“My stand is invincible and I never even let the guy near them. There’s no one better suited for watching someone’s blind spot than me,” Ghiaccio said with his hand splayed out on his chest.

“I mean, like… emotionally,” Formaggio said, scratching the back of his head. “If I was to put myself in their headspace I’d say they probably think you hate them.”

“I don’t hate them,” Ghiaccio spat loudly.

“Good! Now step two is letting them know that,” Illuso said, clapping a hand on Ghiaccio’s back, causing his glasses to slide down his nose.

Ghiaccio grumbled and pushed his glasses back up. He knew that things were weird between the two of you ever since your mission, but it never even crossed his mind it was because of something he said. Is this what Prosciutto felt like training Pesci? But even Pesci had never been avoidant or scared of Prosciutto for all the tough love that he gave him. Pesci looked up to him like an older brother.

If he was really the only one in all of La Squadra that you were uncomfortable around, then he supposed it was on him now to figure out why.

---

The base was pretty quiet today, with a lot of missions landing on Risotto’s desk this week. While you were quite fond of your new teammates you liked having the common area all to yourself on a quiet evening, especially if you were curled up with a novel. When you first started living at the base it felt like a luxury, but even after you had gotten used to the quiet its novelty hadn’t worn off for you.

The sound of a key jingling at the front door had you peeking over your book. When Ghiaccio appeared framed by the living room entrance you held your breath. Hopefully he’d be going upstairs… no, it looked like he was coming into the common area. That’s okay, you could move, so you started standing up, except… he was looking right at you, heading in your direction.

“Sit down,” he said stiffly, and after a beat he added, “Please?”

“Uhh! Okay!” you said, sitting back down and bringing your book right back up to cover your face.

“Can you also, uh. Please. Put the book down?” Ghiaccio said, his voice strained to maintain a monotone and flatten out any inflection. You did as he asked, although you still couldn’t meet his eyes, and he just stared at you awkwardly.

“Uh-”

“Hello,” he said, and it left his mouth at the exact same time your muttered exclamation had. Another awkward pause.

“Hi?” you said, unsure. This wasn’t what you were expecting from your next conversation with the man, for as long as you had postponed it. You thought he’d be demanding to know why you were ignoring him, or getting on your case about being too sensitive to handle his criticism on your last mission. Maybe that was yet to come?

“You are afraid of me,” Ghiaccio stated flatly. Then perhaps he realized he wanted to ask it as a question. “Yes?”

“Oh, no, I’m…” you muttered.

“Of course you are,” he said quickly, cutting you off before you could mumble out an excuse. You got pretty embarrassed by that, but you swallowed and moved your eyes up to gauge his expression. He didn’t look angry, but he looked hyper focused to the point of distress. His lips were pressed together tightly as if he was trying to hold back from speaking again.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For being scared of me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He was being sarcastic again, wasn’t he?

“No, I… I mean… I’m sorry for,” you started, trying to think of something legitimate to actually be sorry about. “For fucking up on the mission.”

“Did fucking up on the mission really bother you that much?” he said. Not only were you stupid for fucking up the mission, but you were also stupid for letting it bother you for so long! What did he want you to say?

“No, I mean…”

But Ghiaccio cut you off with a long loud exhale. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing. I understand that I make you anxious, and I understand that for whatever reason it’s hard for you to talk to me, but I really can’t understand what people say unless they drop all the bullshit.” When you frowned and looked away he tried again. “Not bullshit, fuck, uh. No, not fuck... It’s just that. I need you to say exactly what you mean. I can’t tell what people are thinking unless they make it… easy for me.”

You looked back at him. Whatever he was here to talk about with you, he was trying very hard not to raise his voice. The way he was talking to you was too stilted to be anything but intentional. If he was doing this for your sake, then you would try to meet him halfway. You took a moment to think, to choose what you wanted to say carefully.

“I don’t do well with loud noises. I also… take things very personally. I’ve been worrying that you…” You took another second before committing. “...Hate me.”

He pressed his lips in a thin line again as some noise tried to escape his throat, perhaps an instinctive denial. “What about me makes you think that?”

“Well… you seemed pretty disappointed in me after the mission.”

“I was checking in with you. I wanted to make sure Prosciutto was properly training you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But… but you sounded really angry and sarcastic.”

Ghiaccio closed his eyes and thought about that for a second. “I probably was angry, but not at you. You just fucked up on something so basic that I had to wonder if Prosciutto was actually teaching you anything useful.”

“That’s… not how you said it though,” you said, feeling defensive. “I… I know I did something dumb… but I’ve never messed up with my stand like that before. It was different on that mission.”

“Me talking to myself?” Ghiaccio asked. He had been fixating over what he said to you at the end of that mission for days now, trying to remember all the details. He recalled how you had started with one explanation, but you quickly retracted it.

“You were… so angry the entire mission,” you complained. “Everyone else is quiet on missions with me because my stand is better suited to it.”

“It wasn’t a stealth mission,” Ghiaccio countered. “We were using your stand for something different. I wasn’t even talking to you.”

“I know!” you groaned. “You weren’t trying to distract me, but when things get too loud I…”

“But you took it back. You said it wasn’t me,” Ghiaccio said, leaning forward. His voice had risen just a little, but when he noticed how you reacted to that he tensed up.

“I took it back because I was afraid of upsetting you!” you said, leaning back into the couch as far as you could. “Because when I brought it up… you were mean about it… so I took it back! I thought you were trying to tell me it was my fault, so I took the blame like I thought you wanted!”

“I was… I was asking for clarification! If I did something that caused you to fuck up then I want to know that I did so we can talk about it!” He was clenching his fists to keep his upward inflections from becoming full-blown yelling.

“None of that came across!” you complained. “Like… maybe you technically said those things, but the way you said made it come across completely different!”

“What about you? Now you’re telling me that you meant something completely different from the things you actually said to me!?”

“I-I… but I was obviously upset! I was obviously just trying to appease you!”

“How was it obvious? I thought you were upset because you fucked up! No one likes fucking up!”

“Yeah, no kidding!” You realized at this point that your own voice was starting to rise, which was making Ghiaccio raise his to match yours, and you took a deep breath before speaking calmly again. “I was upset because I was afraid.”

It was quiet again for a little while until Ghiaccio broke the silence.

“Being mean and angry comes really easy to me,” he said, running his fingers through his curls. “Even when I don’t realize it, I still am. Even if I think I’m being reasonable, people misunderstand. I’ve been so used to the others actually being able to take it that I forgot how bad it was.” He scratched at his head a bit. “I also have a hard time telling how loud I actually am until someone points it out.”

You sat there for a moment, soaking that in, before you gave a small amused huff with a half-smile on your face. “I’m not great with loud noises because of what they mean to me. Gunshots remind me of a time when I wasn’t safe… but I can protect myself now, and I have other people who will protect me too. But yelling reminds me of… how I was never good enough for anyone.” You tapped your fingers on the cover of the book on your lap and shrugged.

“I hear from the others that you’re really skilled and reliable on missions,” Ghiaccio said. “I didn’t see that from you when we worked together, but maybe that’s because I was the one who fucked up.”

“But you didn’t...” you started.

“I fucked up by not meeting you where you were at. You’re new. I don’t know you, I don’t know what you’re like. If we had talked beforehand, if I had worked with you, then you probably wouldn’t have made that mistake. I was taking the lead on that mission, it was my job to train you to use your stand in an unfamiliar circumstance. I use missions to get out all the shit that makes me angry, since I don’t need to stay quiet. You don’t work like that. You had no idea what I was yelling for. I never told you how I do things, I just expected you to brush it off like everyone else does.”

You blinked a few times. You had been pretty quick to blame yourself for your own shortcomings, but hearing him say that really recontextualized that entire mission experience.  You might have fucked up, but it was now obvious that he did not hold it against you. “That’s surprisingly self-aware of you.”

He rolled his eyes and set his elbow on the couch’s armrest, plopping his head on his fist. “You don’t know me either. I’m more than a raving heartless bastard. Stuff like this… not understanding why other people think the way they do, or what I’m doing wrong… it really fucks me up. I don’t hate you. You’re a part of my family now and I genuinely want to help you get stronger. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Ghiaccio was nothing like you thought. He was actually really sensitive and introspective. You could tell it was hard for him to confront you like this, almost as hard as it was for you to be confronted. You appreciated that he wanted to put in the effort to have a relationship with you.

“Thank you Ghiaccio. And I’m sorry I avoided you instead of trying to talk about it like this.” You reached over and placed your hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile. He seemed taken aback by the contact, but he relaxed after a moment.

“Are we… good?” he huffed out.

“I think so!”

He let out one long exhale that seemed to go on forever. “Thank fuck,” he muttered, before turning to look at you. “Goddamn it, sorry.”

“It’s not the swearing that bothers me,” you clarified. “It’s the intention behind it. You’re… uh… fucking good, my dude.”

He let out a snort at the awkward way you said that before bringing his hand up to cover his face, looking away in embarrassment.

“Aw, no, that was cute,” you assured him, which only made it worse.

“Well, if we’re done here then I’m heading to bed,” he said, and you glanced at the clock in the living room. It had gotten pretty late. He stood up and started walking towards the stairs.

“We have a mission together again this weekend, right?” you asked, and he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you said with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. And you meant it. “Goodnight!”

“...Night,” he said, before he disappeared around the corner.

[shinyrockalaska]

Acceptance (or: Charlie's incident)

Summary: Charlie decides to drink Amortentia, just to see if it could affect him, so he could feel the same things everyone else around him seems to feel. Unfortunately, he didn't check who's Amortentia he was drinking...

Word count: 3.3k (my longest fic so far!)

More about the inspiration for this at the end of the post!

Enjoyy <3

--

--

He didn't plan it.

Well, yes, he thought about it a few times before, but only theoretically. He never intended to try and do something so drastic to change himself.

But he was in the sixth year and he was seventeen and everybody already had too many expectations of him.

They all acted as if they knew everything about him, who he was going to be, what he was going to do... he couldn't change it, he couldn't tell them they're wrong because he didn't know what was right. Yes, he's a kind and caring person. Yes, he sucks at school because he just can't focus or stop daydreaming. He's messy and obsessive and is definitely going to work with dragons after graduation. They all knew it, and so did he. But that's it, the rest was a blur.

He should've felt lucky. At least he always knows what he wants to do after graduation. Some of his friends, like Tulip and Ben, still had no clue, and they were all stressed out about it. But they all somehow fitted in. With the outsiders, yes, but most of the time Charlie felt like he's an outsider even to the outsiders.

Some may say it's because no one has ever seen him wearing any short clothes, not even in the summertime. He always walked around hiding in his big green coat. Or maybe because of his weird specific fears, that no one else seemed to share or to be scared of it as much as he did. Not even Ben. Or probably, because he never dated anyone and never talked about it with anyone. Charlie thought it was all of those things, that made him himself, but, weird. He never hated himself and was quite proud of being different. But in the end, it doesn't matter. Even the proudest quirky kids would choose to be normal - to fit in - if they could. So you can see why now, at seventeen, he felt that desire to fit in.

Every dinner with his family, his mum would nag him to try and find a nice girl. More for herself than for him, really. Because most wizards and witches find their partners at school. All of his friends already started to go out with each other and whatever student they liked at the moment. There were couples everywhere. EVERYWHERE. And he still couldn't figure out what's wrong with him and why he's not interested in any of that. Even the religious kids, the anxious kids, the awkward kids- all talked about their crushes non-stop. Not everyone dated, of course, but they all talked about it, and the pressure was high. All he ever heard around him was sex, kissing, dates and love. Whatever that was.

The worst part was that his friends were actually supportive.

At first, they would beg him to tell them who his secret crush is, which student he liked. They wouldn't listen whenever he told them that he doesn't have one. But they all calmed down after a while and he explained that he just doesn't care about this stuff. He just doesn't.. feel the need. And they accepted it. Accepted him. But now he was just being put in another box. They stopped talking about their crushes with him because they knew he wouldn't understand. And that was just not true. But could he argue with him when it's so clear they know him better than he knows himself?

So that was the situation he was in. That's why after a super frustrating Amortentia class, where everyone around him kept blushing and giggling at the smell of their own and everyone else's cauldrons, where his friends all sent him sad smiles and kept telling him how jealous they are that he has nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of, where he had to lie and tell Snape fake smells because, of course, he smelled nothing, he just couldn't take it anymore. He decided it was time for a change.

So when the class was dismissed, he stayed nearby. And when Snape left the classroom, he scooped some leftover potion into the weird-shaped glass bottle and drunk it without thinking, without hesitating, and without even knowing who's cauldron it was.

It's Amortentia, after all. The strongest love potion. If it increases those love feelings to others, then he might actually feel something, be somewhat normal.

He felt guilty for doing it and had to stop himself from running to professor Snape so he would give him the antidote right away before anything bad will happen. He knew the potion just cause obsession and trouble, but he had to know, at least for a little while, what's it like to be kind of in love.

At first, he didn't feel anything different. Lunch was normal, Care of magical creatures was normal. He felt dizzy at History of magic, but maybe it had more to do with the boring lesson than the potion itself. Charlie was disappointed but somewhat relieved when still nothing had changed by dinner time.

That is, until, Merula has entered the room.

He forgot that tiny, little, important detail that now he was madly in fake love with whoever brewed that potion. Which was, how unlucky for him, Merula. But now he didn't care about it. All he wanted to do was stay with her from now on and forever.

"Charlie, are you okay? You look a little sick," Barnaby commented about his appearance. "And a bit pale," Tonks added, but Charlie preferred to ignore his friends' concerns. "Have you ate something bad?" Rowan questioned, "is it because of potion class?" That question made him nervous, of course. "N-no! I'm just tired.. w-why would it have to do anything with p-potion class?"

"Because you smelled nothing, right? You're not upset about it, right?" They all looked at him with that same sad-apologetic smile as always. He hated it. Just because he's different doesn't mean he needs to be treated differently. "Guys, I'm fine. I don't care. It doesn't matter. Being yourself is the best thing anyone can be! Why would I want to be anything else but myself?" Maybe he was trying too hard to hide it. He sighed, "please just stop giving me those sorry faces. I don't need your pity, I-"

From the corner of his eye, he spotted Merula leaving the room. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and hurried up after her.

He couldn't pick up the nerves to talk to her so he just followed her around to the Slytherin house in the dungeons. Then, he had to go to sleep, but he couldn't stop staring at the ceiling, smiling, and dreaming about Merula.

"What's up with him?" Ben asked as he entered their dorm. Jae shrugged, "I think he's been drugged." And when Ben's face showed panic he laughed, "just kidding, he's probably thinking about dragons."

--

Normally, Charlie would be tired after sleeping less than six hours, but he had an amazing dream about him and Merula on a date with candles and chocolate and all he wanted was to feel her hand in his own.

"Are you alright, Charlie..? You still look pretty sick," his friends told him at breakfast. "I'm more than fine, I've never felt better," he said with this wide fuzzy exaggerated smile and the fake spark in his eyes. He barely touched his food, he just kept staring at Merula. And his friends noticed.

"Why are you looking at the Slytherin table? Who are you starting at? Awwww did you finally got a crush?" Normally he'd be embarrassed by this question, which always made him feel unease. But this time, he wanted to be with Merula so badly, that he welcomed any help. "It's Merula, can you maybe get her attention? I really want to kiss her! And maybe.. more? I already thought about names for our kids! Human names even! We'll have a perfect life near the dragon reserve!" He babbled.

"What?!?! You can't be serious! That's- that's just- no!!" They were shocked and a bit disgusted. "It doesn't make sense, Charlie.. you hate Merula!" Talbott said, making Charlie angry, "well, maybe you don't know everything about me!" He shouted, and many students' heads turned around to look at him. "Ever thought about it? That maybe I am more than the way you see me? More than the things you see in me?!" He kept shouting, making his friends feel embarrassed, as they lowered their heads. "Yeah, that's what I thought," Charlie frowned. "Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to ask out Merula!" He shouted this sentence too, causing Merula to look at him, disgusted, and run out of the great hall immediately. He shot one last angry look at his friends, before storming out of the room, after Merula.

"As you all know I'm an expert in love and-" Andre started to say quickly but got cut off by Diego. "I think we can all agree I'm the love expert."

"True," Jacob's sibling said, "you promised to get me dates at the third year and you still haven't! Diego's been more helpful than you.."

Andre was irritated, "That.. that doesn't matter!! Can't you see that Charlie is-"

"Poisoned!" Rowan cut him off, "he's drugged on Amortentia!"

"No way! It's too hard to- oh no! He probably drunk it yesterday after class!" Penny was frightened.

"Dang it, Charlie! What do we do now??"

"We'll have to tell a professor. Even if he'll hate us. We have to do it before he does something stupid like actually making a move on Merula!" Rowan stated, horrified.

--

"Merula wait! Please, let's talk!" Charlie shouted, running behind her, and she surprisingly stopped. He caught her a few halls past the great hall, on the way to the dungeons. she almost got away from him. He took her hand and started talking, blushing, stumbling on his words. "I can't imagine my life without you! We will be so perfect together, don't you think? Let's run away and start a family together! Do you like dragons? I was thinking we could live next to the Romanian dragon sanctuary and have at least two kids. Do you like the names Violet and Jade? I think they're perfect! I picked them because it's like your eyes and the Slytherin colour. And also not dragon names! Oh, I feel so safe and happy around you. Can you tell me about yourself and your family and life and beliefs and every little detail possible?" He was now hugging her, clutching to her as close as he can.

"This is unsettling in so many ways, Charlie. Stop it now. I don't know what sick game you're playing but cut it now before I'll have to hex you, or call someo-"

"Game? No, no! This is love, baby! Don't you see it?" Charlie felt heartful, in a way he never felt before. And he liked it, being fearless. Feeling warm and being somehow full of love. "Did someone dared you to do it? Have you been drinking elixir to induce euphoria? Oh no, don't tell me you're-"

"Merula! I'm so sorry for Charlie's behavior." McGonagall called out from the end of the hall, followed by Charlie's friends. "What are you doing here?! Go away! I don't need you! I have my Merula! Don't ruin this for me! I deserve to have love too!" Charlie screamed and clung to Merula even more than before.

"Charles Weasley come with me right now!" McGonagall was furious. No student has ever acted like that.

"No! I'm staying here with the love of my life!" He tried to kiss Merula's hand who just pulled it out of his reach immediately, disgusted and uncomfortable. "Don't talk to me ever again, freak." She said and walked away.

"No! Don't leave me! We can make it work!" Charlie screamed as he hurried up after Merula, who now went from fast walking to running. McGonagall grabbed Charlie's arm and stopped him. "you're coming with me now, I cannot believe you!" she said loudly, disappointed.

"No!!! You can't stop me from being happy and in love! This is me, just go away! I have to get Merula back!" He was hysterical, tears running down his face. He cried so much his head started to ache, but he didn't care. he had to follow Merula. Had to be with her. He'd rather die, give up on dragons even, than not spend every single minute of his life now with Merula.

But McGonagall pulled him away from any hope to fulfill his dreams, all the way to her office. He kept cursing his friends, who looked very ashamed and worried, as he got dragged away from them. None of them laughed at the scene he caused.

"Drink this. NOW." McGonagall ordered, but Charlie refused. "I will not let you drug me and prevent me to have this! Let! Me! Go!" He screamed, caughting McGonagall off guard. But it wasn't the first time something like that happened, it just never got out of hand to be like... Charlie's case.

"Stupify." McGonagall cast the spell on Charlie, with a heavy heart. She hates using magic on students. Still, she poured the love-potion antidote liquid down his mouth and watched as he slowly got back his consciousness. She looked at him, all confused as he tried to remember what happened.

"Who did this to you? Was it Merula? She didn't look quite satisfied with your obsession but that doesn't mean it's not her. So tell me, who drugged you with love potion?" McGonagall asked him in both compassion and anger.

"What? Oh you mean the Amortentia.." he lowered his head, "it was.. me?"

"What?! This is beyond belief, Charlie! Why would you do that to yourself? You know it's a dangerous potion! You know the consequences! I expected better than yo-"

"That's exactly the problem!" He cut her off, rudely, "Everyone always expecting all sorts of things from me! I can't be everyone's version of me! I don't want to! I barely even want to be me! You wouldn't understand but I just had to fit in!!"

Charlie never in his life yelled like that at anyone or anything, especially not a professor. But he didn't care anymore. He was sick of everything. McGonagall was surprised again, it was very unlike him to behave that way.

"I- Charlie, listen." He looked at her a bit worried and ashamed. "You don't need to be fixed. You know that using potions and magic to change yourself is bad, especially if it's illegal.." she gave him an alerting look. "I can't tell you how to feel or who to be, but I want you to know that every person is different than the others and there is absolutely not a thing that is wrong with being yourself. Being different is good-"

"As someone who's been different his entire life, I can assure you it's not. Everyone always says it's wonderful to be extraordinary and different and special and whatever, but even the proudest weirdest kids would choose to be like everyone else and fit in if they could.." Charlie said, focusing on the wall rather than McGonagall's eyes, playing with the zipper of his coat.

"Maybe you need to have more pride, Charlie. You're a very unique person, let those special things about you define you by your choice, instead of being ashamed of them. I encourage you to find that strength to let go of the shame and fear in you and to just.. be yourself."

"Pride is stupid," Charlie murmured quietly, "it's something I had no control over. it's not a drawing I made that I put a lot of effort and time into it, so I'm proud of it. No. It's something I couldn't even choose, something I can't change. There's no pride in having no control."

"Well, could you have chosen to be a Gryffindor?"

"Uh, no, but.." Charlie went quiet, thinking.

"I know, you wanted to be in Gryffindor, but if you happened to be in Hufflepuff, wouldn't you still have some house pride in you?" McGonagall asked him.

"I guess.." Charlie shrugged, still upset.

"We cherish pride in us, based on what we learn from our surroundings as we grow up. But society is not always right. In fact, most of the time it's even wrong. And so, you need to be your own society, sometimes. Be the change you want to see in the world, and even if you're different than the way it seems society tells you to be, it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. You need to accept yourself just like you would've accepted any of your friends, and just like you would want the world to accept you. Even if you turn out to be completely different than the person you thought you are. understand?"

Charlie nodded. He felt, not for the first time, like McGonagall can read minds. She answered all of his worries and questions and feelings, with her calming words.

McGonagall let him off of his classes for the rest of the day and he decided to write a letter to his family, explaining how he feels. He asked them to be kind and understanding, as he has no control or any choice over his feelings. He wrote down everything that bugged him in the past years. The letter was far too long, and contained seven full written pages. In the end, Charlie decided he won't send it yet. he felt better, but still wasn't ready to face his family's reaction to his incident and different behavior. He felt as if it might disappoint them. it was ridiculous, he knew, they would love him no matter what. Even so, seeing those words, his words, written down in those pages, in his own handwriting, made him smile. It was his choice, to write them, to use them. And he won't let anyone tell him it's wrong.

At dinner, he sat with his friends as usual, worried about what his friends might say. He didn't want them to be worried about him, but he knew they were, after what he did...

"Hey guys, thanks for, uh.. you know... watching out for me.." he said, nervously.

"Sure thing! How are you feeling, Charlie? Better? You're not mad at us for calling McGonagall, right..?" His friends were just as worried as him.

"I'm feeling much better, relieved. I don't know what I would've done if you didn't call McGonagall.. you really saved me.."

He could see Merula sitting next to Ismelda, and glaring at him, furiously.

"You could've chosen a better person to fake fall in love with," Andre joked.

"Yeah, even in this I didn't have a choice or any luck," Charlie laughed, a bit uncomfortable as this subject was still upsetting sometimes.

"How much trouble did you get to from that talk with McGonagall? We haven't seen you all day, so we figured you've got punished real hard.." Ben said, carefully.

"Well, I need to write an apology letter for Merula.. but I got off easy."

"Your mother's not going to like it.." he heard one of them saying, but even that part was okay.

"McGonagall promised not to tell my parents if I'll agree to meet her once a week and talk to her about what's bothering me, instead of bottle it inside me... she wants me to have more pride, and she trust me to choose the right time for me to tell my parents about this incident."

His friends smiled at him, and he smiled at them back.

He tried not to feel nauseous, remembering how foolishly he acted that day, convinced he has to fit in. He still sometimes thought it would be better for him to be like the rest. But he can't. So when he felt that way, he reminded himself of McGonagall's words and named all the good things in his life, and the things he does have control over.

Charlie knew from the moment he drunk the Amortentia, that life might not be easy for him, always having to be the odd one out.

But it was his own life, and he should be proud of what he has.

---

Wow! Finally! I had this idea for like a year and I've been trying to write it ever since, so this definitely took time...

---

--

I really like how it turned out, I hope you'll like it too. This is how I see Charlie.

The fic was inspired by another beautiful fanfic (here's a link) where Charlie almost drinks the potion but ends up not doing it.

Even though it's not canon, to me, Charlie is the closest thing we have to an aromantic and asexual representation, and it's just so, so important to have that. It took me years to feel comfortable with me being like this, I'm still working on it, and I think a big part of it is because we don't see anything about it in the media or anywhere else really.

Self-acceptance is harder when it comes to aros and aces because it's just so different than other romantic/sexual orientations, it's hard to define lack of attraction, but it doesn't mean it's bad!

Everyone is valid, and I know knowing this doesn't make it immediately better, but it helps to remember it. I don't want people to be afraid of who they are, to feel like they need to be fixed, to have to hide away.

So now, it's the end of pride month but you and I- we're still here! And we can still shine bright and be proud of ourselves for coming so far! The truth is always right, don't be afraid of it. 💜💚

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Happy new year everyone 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

I know 2020 has been hard for everyone.

And I want everyone to know, suffering isn't a contest and we all suffer in different ways. But I feel I should give my year in Review. Just some things that happened to me personally.

This was an intense, and long and spiritual and emotional journey for me...

I really discovered what it meant to have community, family and what my life means to me.

But I feel I need to get this in writing cause I can remember the year with vivid detail and I will probably forget if I don't get it down.

Do I have to share this publically online to my tumblr account for a bunch of strangers to see? not really.

Do I want to?

Yes. I think so. Just from how so many people on tumblr and real life have touched me.

This is kinda long and no one needs to read this.

(idk how to do a readmore on mobile. But this is where I would add it later. No one needs to read if they don't want to.)

January/February: (and some background on the last five years of my life cause.....well. it's important.)

As people knew, I got way into Invader Zim last summer. I spent most of my waking life working a dead end job at a grocery store. I lived a sad lonely life, going straight home to a single dark studio apartment. With not many material possessions outside of games, my laptop and my tablet to my name. Half of my material loves, such as home furnishings and books were still in boxes from when I moved in. In case I ever had to move again, or get some "big screenshot or copywriter" job in the city.

....

I lived in that city in the same dead end job and apartment for five years.

No friends. No social life. I often refused to make doctor appointments or attempt to establish myself in that city. I didn't even talk to anyone in my workplace.

Work. Go online. Go to sleep.

I lived like that for five years.

I thought it was good.

Even my therapist thought I was doing well.

When I really wasn't. My main character flaw I struggle with is motivation.

I can talk to someone about very detailed plans I have to fix a problem... But I tend to never follow through.

Just because I can describe in detail how to fix my personal problems, it doesn't mean I will do it.

(I have gotten better at this but it's a major struggle)

I might have been a Zombie during the day...

But by night I was pouring my soul into my AU and my analysis.

After being so thoughly ignored or overlooked by the Naruto fandom and the Undertale fandom, I felt like I had finally found my home and was settling into a community there.

I just loved that people loved what I had to say.

Especially my AU.

It's no secret that a lot of themes in my au revolve around found family, grief, and loss.......

Fatherhood, in particular.

What it means to be a father, how much do you need to try when you mess up, how willing should a child forgive their parent, especially those that have wronged you and how much of it is factually accurate and simply a self projection of what children want their parents to be and visa versa... What amount of forgiveness and change is nessasary...is it needed?

....

It's no secret that a lot of my AU is a giant coping mechanism for my Dad's death. Espessially the falling out and growing closer with a lot of my family members throughout the years following his death. (Most of the time I keep it ambiguous to how it relates to my personal life unless I include a readmore that states so outright. I feel my au can be enjoyed by a variety of people in the fandom who don't need to know me as a person or my life story.)

My Dad passed away in 2016 in February and my family still feels the aftershocks to this day.

It's part of the reason I moved to the city, alienated myself from my family and people that loved me and refused to experience life for five years.

My entire world was Zim, and I was okay.

March: When America finally realized and started to feel the effects of the pandemic....

A lot of people got scared.

Me included.

I didn't have any streaming services or access to the news. So I only heard accounts from my mom.

I didn't understand why the store was so dead quiet and empty for a few days, then it went into mass chaos and panic in the span of two days.

It felt like Retail black friday in the worst way. Everyone was packed like sardines. Everyone was yelling. The lines at the registers bled into the clothing department.

I was witness to customers shoving others for toilet paper, being rude to cashier's and just overall unpleasantness.

At the time, I didn't even fully grasp what the pandemic was, and I feel a lot of people at the time didn't either.

I ended up absentmindedly scratching my eyebrow in front of a customer and she screamed and villanised me for it. That they didn't want groceries touched by my "unclean hands"

I ended up breaking down into tears.

The customer behind me gave me a hug and told me I was doing a great job.

But the damage was done. It was the final straw, I couldn't stop crying and I was breaking apart.

Thankfully my Boss (the one who likes me) pulled me aside and asked what's wrong.

It was then that I quit. No notice. Same day. I had to get out of there.

I was planning to move to an apartment with my sister in the summer, but my Mom offered for me to move back in with her temperarily just so I can get out of the city and away from the pandemic.

So I did.

I got scared, broke my lease a month early and quit my job of five years that gave me nothing back.

He told me, "take care of yourself and your family, I won't keep you here, do what you need to do."

So I did.

April-June:

A very eventful few months.

My mom offered for me to live at her place, but for some reason she was acting like I would live there forever. That this wasn't a temporary arrangement, and that I didn't have an apartment set up already.

This was in large part to my sister, who had lived with my mom taking advantage of her for years.

Even though my sister and I were going to move in together, I was just never sure about it cause of how she never packed her stuff or made any effort to find a job.

My mom often acted like I was lazy and not searching and was treating me like... Well, an unruly teenager instead of a woman of 29 years. She acted like I was a failure for returning home when it was her idea in the first place.

I would have just been petrified in the city.

Like usual, I retreated to my au again.... And in the spring, something eventful happened.

In may, 8th 2020:

I was invited by @rissynicole to join an invader zim discord.

Now, I've never really used discord before. I always thought it's interface is too confusing.. and I'm a member of a few other iz discords and I usually don't follow them that closely.

Rissy assured me it was different cause some friends of thiers made it and it was smaller.

Before I knew it, I was sharing memes and getting to know everyone there.

It wasn't long after I invited my partner in IZ crimes, @paketdimensioncomic who was genuinely wary of iz servers due to a bad experience with the last one they were a part of.

But soon they were sharing memes and laughing with everyone else.

My eyes were starting to open and I was able to connect to fans of my work in an interpersonal way. And I was able to discover new artists and aus I never knew about.

I was also able to meet so many others of the community and invite them to the server myself.

The moo-ping 10 server kept me sane while I was living with my judgmental mother.

Not only that, the summer was very productive for my au.

Drawing was all I did, and it was a huge break from the job as a cashier I had.

Not only that, June came, and with it, me and Ceph's first collab fic:

A result of us just going back and forth in our DMs constantly about Professor Membrane and how he changed in ETF for the better and how much we adamantly stan "trying-to-be-a-good-dad-brane" and how much of his ETF development has to be implied off screen in order for the emotional resolution in the movie to matter.

The only reason I never professed my love for Membrane as a character in the fandom before the fic dropped was.... Well....

Membrane can be a decisive character in the fandom and I was so worried people would hate me if I did an analysis on him, simply because he's not the best parent in the world. (As an understatement)

Ceph and I really encouraged each other to scream our love for the science himbo loud and proud more frequently and so often.... I actually start to see less Membrane hate posts and breakdowns then their used to be.... I like to think it's a combination of Me and Ceph's influence, along with ETF and the Quarterly's painting Membrane in a slightly more nuanced light then he was previously.

I never wrote a collab fic before and it's such a rewarding and fun and unique experience that I don't think I'll ever have again. And I love working with Ceph on our fics so much.

So much so we did it again...

July-August:

I never thought I would be one of those people who writes NSFW IZ fic... But here I am.

The Brainbrane au started.... An au of my au where Membrane and the Computer fall in love and Membrane makes him a body.

This ship was based around the idea where we joked that Membrane and Zim's Computer would have funny interactions if they ever met, under the pretense Membrane thinks Computer is Zim's parent.

Our headcanons morphed and shifted until we just full blown started shipping them.

Just because Membrane and Zim's Computer have overall REALLY entertaining chemistry.

It's a character dynamic never seen in the show or comics (yet) and I imagine thier interactions to be nothing but entertaining banter.

The fic was also born from spite... Making fun of the troupes and cliches that we found personally destestible in some questionable zadr fics.

So an angry ace and a demi-bisexual collab on a porn and end up blessing the fandom with

Compapa headcanons,

Computer being recognized as a more common used fanon character,

The ship of Brainbrane.

The fandom having a crisis of "oh God, not only are we xenophiles we're technophiles too!!!" Or "why you gotta give Zim's Computer an ass"

More android Computer designs

It was an eventful summer.

In the midst of all this, I moved into my new place, got a new job, and I was able to see my friend (who is def my platonic straight soul mate) who lives in Indiana.

She came to visit, showed me how to decorate and how to take care of my body better! Things were looking up! It was great.

September-November:

My job was at a boat store. If was approaching the fall and my hours were being severely cut.

I was getting into a rut of depression again.

I thought things were changing but the same routine I was trying to escape from was the same thing coming back.

But instead of letting it take hold, I decided I was going to do something about it... I was gonna visit a museum and go with my sister. Just... variety stimulation.

Well that didn't happen.

I talked about this shortly in my au itself...but..

My sister had a complete mental breakdown.

She stopped taking her meds, went off the deep end and was in the hospital a total of five times throughout November.

A lot of it was acting out and the perfect storm of environmental factors that made her scream and act out so she would keep going back to the hospital.

It was traumatizing for me.

I just can't explain what it's like. For her and for me to be in that position.

I'm not telling the full story and a lot of bullshit things happened I won't share here.

She got diagnosed with bipolar one and my mom expected me to be a caretaker for her.

I threatened to disown my family and move away out of state.

It was just too much for me to handle.

So much I was a nervous wreck.

I tried to pick up a second job... Cause my sister was in the mental ward so frequently and couldn't pay the bills.

But I was fired within a week cause I was so stressed I couldn't retain the basic information they were training me for.

It was an office job.

My dream.

It could have been.

I was fired from something I really wanted.

I was only there for three days.

I could not retain any information.

I was a mess.

My sister was a trigger, my mom wanted me to live with her. I couldn't live like this.... I had to get out.

I had to get out.

December:

Remember my Indiana friend?

Well the first week of December is my birthday.

My 30th to be exact.

While I did pick up a seasonal position at Target (not my first pick)

I took the first week of December off so I could spend time with her. Cause she agreed, I needed a break from this crap.

Surviving 30 years is cause to celebrate and if I had to celebrate with my sister I would have cried.

I know there was a risk traveling out of state during a pandemic...

But I needed out, I needed a friend..

And I kinda wanted to look at the place since I was considering moving there.

My friend's mom was sick so she avoided me and her daughter and got us a hotel room.

It was fun! I got to swim in a salt water pool, we talked about Naruto, I showed her the iz and su art books I brought, also Computer and Membrane tea.

I also got to meet her other friends and get crunk. And her bf who is super nice and funny!

I had a super fun birthday....

Until her mom told my friend that her grandparents had covid and that was what she had. And my friend got sick within that same day.... As did I.

I owe so much to her family.

I was an entire state away...about a ten hour drive from home.... She let me stay at her house. "The covid house" we called it.

Cause everyone (except the father. He avoided everyone and booked a hotel immediately cus he was an ER doctor) had covid within a day.

I called in, the test results were positive and I had to stay with her family for ten days quarantine before I could work again.

Which would have been fine....

If my tumblr didn't log me out perminately of my old account. @dana-chan325 .... Which really sucked cause I had a constant headache and was too sick to engage with tumblr or much of the fandom. I didn't want to make a new account when my head was in a bad fog and I could barely breathe or smell.

It's not like I saw much of my friend either.... We all slept at different hours and she had more symptoms then I did.

It was just netflix, danganronpa v3 and cry.

I was miserable, but at the same time.... Not?

I really feel like God himself was the one who pulled me off from tumblr, and my living situation.

Maybe a whole extra week feeling like a bobblehead was what I needed.

It gave me some much needed clarity on my relationships with my mom and sis and friend.

Running away to Indiana was not the solution here.

Once I was better within ten days and no longer had a leave of absence, I drove home.

I am glad I fully recovered (but from how I understand it, my dear friend is still ill. I'm praying for her)

I might have gone to work a bit too soon, cause I had an asthma attack after trying to unload a single cart in the span of six hours.

My boss lectured that my speed was unacceptable, and even though I explained the covid situation and breathing problems many times, she threatened that I'd be fired if I'm that slow again.

Que the next few days of work where they put me on register.

Instantly I was sent into a panic remembering the last time I was on the register and how that panic attack caused me to quit.

I even asked if I could go back to stocking, since my breathing had improved. My boss assured me that I was put on the register cause they needed help and nothing to do with my covid thing.

Then as December concluded and the new year began, my boss said that this was the last shift for me cause my position was seasonal and they were letting a lot of people go.

I then asked why I was on the schedule for Sunday, and he told me to ignore it and I'm free to reapply for full-time.

I mean.... They can act smart about it...

But putting your general merchandise stocker onto register after she had an asthma attack and missed working the first two weeks of December due to covid.....

Not a good look.

So once again, I'm jobless once more.

Will probably continue to live with my sister for awhile.

But I do not feel as if it's a bad thing....

I met so many good people this year....

My friend's family even gave me 500 usd to cover my rent since I couldn't work for a majority of December.

I've seen evil and good from humanity this year. I've seen acts of god, good friends and what my real family means to me as well as friends I consider family.

This year really made me look back at the person in the mirror and say,

"I deserve better."

And actually worked for it this time.

Oh and after Christmas I got a horrible yeast infection that burns over most of my body currently.

Very accurate doodle to the pain I'm in right now.

(seriously my body is a fungus.)

But hey, good news, I respected myself enough to go to the doctor about it!!

So that's progress.

I really hope 2021 holds good things for me.

Thank you to the mooping 10 server for always being there and keeping me sane,

Thank you tumblr for liking my au and everything.

AND A SUPER SPECIAL THANK YOU TO @evartandadam and her family for housing me and my dumb diseased ass. Everyone, she is an angel and I can't express how much she means to me. Please check out her art and buy her stuff on redbubble.

Anyways... Byebye 2020.

I look forward to what I can accomplish for myself this year.

[lovelylogans]

Yes. Please Open The Box. I've been on hp brainrot cause I've been rewatching the movies with my mom. Please

i feel like i have a lot of opinions that are popular opinions, and fuck terfs, but nonetheless:

regulus black would have been the perfect example of a brave slytherin that albus was named after

arthur, hagrid, or remus could have served as other father figures instead of albus; tell me hagrid would not burst into tears upon hearing his child was named after him? also, arthur, for both ginny and harry!

i read the occasional drarry fic but it has to be very, very well-written; or, at least, it has to have the understanding that draco has to go through some sort of redemption, either through atoning for his own actions, or an au in which he already has—some fics make him the next-gen spy, a bit like snape

uh, draco and dudley are perfect foils, and people would simp after dudley if he was as “conventionally attractive” as tom felton

dudley had more of a canon redemption arc than draco did

fatphobia is rampant in the series—villains are the vast majority of fat rep, and even good fat characters like molly or hagrid still have faults (hagrid is “big and dumb,” a bit like dudley tbh, and molly is kind of just? a Mother? like that’s her defining character trait. nothing wrong with being a stay at home mom if that’s what you want, of course, it’s just that molly didn’t have much of a personality outside of her children until the later books.)

misogyny too—molly was so mean to hermione in the fourth book and fleur in the sixth, ginny was mean to fleur too, hermione gives off “not like other girls” energy especially concerning lavender and pavarti

poc harry and hermione—sure, jkr says she’s cool with it, but she gets a lot of credit for the bare minimum. she could have written them that way.

there’s a whole lot of white people in hp. wish there’d been better rep

same with dumbledore! it’s so clear she said he’s gay to get better credit for rep that’s barely there, but now she has the chance to expound in it in the fantastic beasts movies, she isn’t planning on addressing it. right. okay.

should i even get into the antisemitism of the goblins

most -isms jkr ticked, tbh, and described better by other people who these -isms directly affect, so i won’t get too much more into it

wish hufflepuffs had more house rep, in general, they mostly just get cedric, and i wish that “good slytherins” were expounded upon, especially concerning the whole “no slytherins stayed” for the final battle you cannot TELL ME that there wasn’t ONE slytherin who had ambitions to fight voldemort

(i’m a ravenclaw, btw)

cho, angelina, and ginny are all overhated; movie!ginny was albeit lacking a lot of the Spice of book ginny, and movie cho got shorted bc they didn’t include marietta as the betrayer of the da, but like. god. pls chill ppl

albus probably considered that sirius was innocent but decided to leave him in azkaban, even though he didn’t know for sure; albus probably also laid out the traps for the stone with eleven-year-olds in mind, just in case harry wanted to try and prove himself; albus was behind a lot of the machinations, and at the very least he left a child to be abused for years on end

i wrote a ten page essay on why snape is a garbage person for that college class i mentioned. i got a perfect score.

like seriously i could talk about how much snape sucks and why him having a crush on lily isn’t redemption, but like. we get it. c’mon. “i see no difference,” threatening to kill a student’s beloved pet, being that student’s worst fear....... come on.

harry should have been the dada professor when he grew up. like it’s right there.

tonks is genderfluid you cannot convince me otherwise

i love wolfstar as much as the next gal, but if we get a marauders tv show slash movie, you know she’d make that shit as straight as possible. no thanks.

someone on tiktok said florence pugh as helga hufflepuff tho and. yeah.

mmm jkr really should have kept her hands off a lot of the international schools; i know she messed up at the very least native american representation, even though native americans requested she not do that, and there are really big Colonization Vibes from those expanded schools. which like, i get, bc colonization was happening, but. still. so many fics have done better with those concepts.

speaking of! fic recs! these are all on ao3

the changeling: slytherin!ginny. takes her through all seven years and addresses various kinds of magic. i absolutely adore it. harry/ginny

boy with a scar series: takes various “what ifs” about the harry potter series and writes them; mostly canon ships

sunshine in my eyes: lily is raised by professor mcgonagall. jily

true, and unafraid of toil: a character study of autistic newt scamander

the dogfather: petunia turns down taking in her son, sirius escapes azkaban much earlier, and harry’s adopted by muggles. only the first year of hogwarts is written out in full, but there’s ficlets that follow through to the end of the wizarding war. wolfstar.

(the completely unwilling participants on) the bachelor: james is the first british bachelor; lily is a journalist who is sent on the show, undercover, by her shitty boss. james/lily

swung by serafim: a characterization of snape that i do not completely hate; i avoid the last two chapters, bc i do not like snarry, it squicks me out, and i didn’t see the tags for it until the very end of the work since it gets more textual in those chapters, and also it involves real life events that feels a bit strange to write about in fic, but. that’s just me. i think there’s cho/harry/cedric in there?

turn: genuinely just one of the best-written harry potter fanfics i’ve ever read. harry after the epilogue gets sent to an alternate universe where things went a little different. drarry

the debt of time: obligatory “hermione gets sent back in time to the marauders” fic; these were super popular on fanfic.net, where i started out, but i read this recently and really really enjoyed it. sirius/hermione, remus/hermione

the pure and simple truth: everyone goes out to a bar. drarry, romione

hogwarts, to welcome you home: harry as the dada professor from mcgonagall’s perspective

stealing harry: sirius never went to azkaban, but harry still went to the dursleys for a bit. it’s written up to part of the third book, but it has notes for how the rest of the series would have turned out. wolfstar

hermione granger’s hogwarts crammer for delinquents on the run: if harry was told he was a wizard at age seventeen, instead of age eleven. drarry

the reclamation of black magic: harry’s grandmother dorea was in a coma and never died. now she’s come to adopt her grandson and seek a reckoning on the wizarding world. this is unfinished and is in harry’s first year; sirius black/remus, for a bit, but also remus/female oc and sirius/male oc; probably harry/hermione, by the end of it.

if any of you have fic recs (especially fics featuring ginny, jily, or wolfstar) (i’ve been meaning to read atyd, i’m saving it) please let me know!

[roseyserpents]

Delicate

Summary: after you lose everything you made friends with some Serpents, but you worry your new feelings would ruin what you have

Word count: 2,616

Warnings: mentions of sex (that's about it I think)

A/N: This is a song fic with Taylor Swift's Delicate! this is the first fic I've posted in a few months so it might be pretty bad :|

This ain't for the best

My reputation's never been worse, so

You must like me for me

You used to be at the top of the social ladder in Riverdale High. You walked the halls with Cheryl Blossom and Reggie Mantle and the like. You were a co-captain of the Riverdale Vixens, proudly wearing the uniform and looking down at the people who could only wish to be like you. To be someone everyone knew and was invited to every party. Someone who could get a boyfriend with the snap of her fingers and get everything she wanted just by saying it. You used to be that person. Until your mom lost her job sending you both tumbling from the richest parts of the Northside to Sunnyside trailer park. It was nothing like your old life where you had a closet the size of the entire trailer and any type of food you had a craving for. Now you had a small dresser and two cabinets that held Cheerios, Graham crackers, and ramen noodles. You traded your high and mighty life at Riverdale High for being the new soft kid from the Northside at Southside High. It was as if you were standing on the top rung of the ladder and someone pushed you off, sending you crumbling down to the bottom not even getting a grip of it. Your reputation in Riverdale was ruined.

That's why you were surprised when on your third day in hell a certain Serpent named Fangs Fogarty decided to take a chance on the Northsider that stook out like a sore thumb and invited you to sit with him and his friends at lunch. Fangs didn't have much of an issue with your past but it took the others about three months for them to consider you worthy of being called a Southsider. One of the people who scoffed and rolled their eyes every time you appeared or spoke was Sweet Pea. But he even came around to you eventually, you becoming part of the group. Part of the Southside.

We can't make

Any promises now, can we, babe?

But you can make me a drink

You were finally okay with your new life after a year and a half when the news of Southside high closing traveled around. You were sent a letter in the mail that you would be transferred to Riverdale High effective by Monday of the next week. Riverdale High where everyone who used to adore you would now glare down at you for being one of the transfered students. Riverdale High where you knew there were rumours about what happened to your family and you were had been receiving hate for it. As soon as you read the letter you threw open the door to your trailer and made your way to the Whyte Wyrm, sitting down with a heavy sigh and your face twisted into an expression of rage.

"See the letter?" Sweet Pea asks, appearing in front of you from behind the worn bar counter. You don't reply, simply nodding and drumming your stiff fingers on the wood. "It'll be fine. You already know everyone."

"You don't understand." You say with a humourless smile and a shake of your head, "They're ruthless to anyone with remote connections to the South. I'm not going to be able to walk the halls by myself without getting the shit beaten out of me."

"Serpents wouldn't let that happen." Sweet Pea says referring to you joining four months prior. "That's a promise."

"Might be a hard one to keep." You sigh. "Can you make me a drink?"

As anticipated by you the first two months of being back at Riverdale High was horrid and filled with you getting pushed becoming the students physical and verbal punching bag. They threw words at you about how now you're Southside Serpent scum and no longer one of them. But eventually most of the Northsiders got bored of bullying you all and dropped it, mostly only Bulldogs and Vixens starting feuds. You'd eventually made friends with a few Northside kids you'd never noticed when you went there through Jughead including Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge, and Archie Andrews.

"So, I convinced my parents to let me use our lake house for the break." Veronica says as she sits down in the student lounge. "I figured we could all use it as a romantic getaway."

"Sounds great." Betty smiles for her and Jughead.

"You guys have fun with that." You sigh, leaning back in the couch.

"Aren't you going to come Y/n?" Archie asks, everyone turning towards you.

"I would but I don't exactly have someone to go with." You answer.

"Why don't you bring Sweet Pea?" Jughead suggests, raising his hand that rests on Betty's shoulder.

"Sweet and I- we're not like that. We're just friends." You stutter, trying to stop the heat creeping up your necks and onto your cheeks. You didn't want to even admit to yourself you'd grown to like the tall, quick tempered Serpent as more than a friend. The butterflies that flew in your stomach every time you saw your friend scared you because you knew it would change things so you stuffed the feelings way down inside of you and locked them in a box. That nobody was allowed to unlock or even see. Those feelings were off limits and would just turn everything into a mangled knot.

You see Veronica and Betty have a conversation with their eyes before turning towards you. "Bring him, it'll be a friend thing instead of a romantic getaway."

"No, you guys can have your date thing I'll just hang out with the Serpents." You reject, not wanting an extremely awkward week or to ruin theirs.

"Hangout with that Serpent with us." Veronica says with her "I'm not going to stop bugging you until I get my way" look. You sigh and press your lips into a line, looking between the two of your friends before speaking.

"If you guys can convince him to go, I'll go." You finally give immediately regretting it as the two of them look to Jughead.

You'd decided to leave to go to your locker, the others waiting for you to be out of ear shot before talking.

"Y/n and Sweet Pea like each other right?" Archie asks, turning to Jughead.

"Oh yeah definitely." He answers, stuffing a Dorito in his mouth.

"Which means we need them both to come." Veronica adds, quirking a brow as she smiles.

Your stomach flipped at the texts as you realized you just accepted to go on basically a date with Sweet Pea that you were technically forced to do. Still in disbelief the next morning you packed a bag filled with clothes and your basic necessities before walking outside, confused when you see Sweet Pea standing there.

"I was expecting to meet you there." You say, explaining your expression when he quirks a brow at you. He shrugs, hand scratching the back of his neck before falling back to his side.

"I figured I could give you a ride." He says, gesturing to his motorcycle leaning on its stand.

You look to your own propped against your house and look back at his, debating the decisions before walking towards Sweet Pea. He flashes you a small smile before swinging his leg over the seat, you doing the same and wrapping your arms around his torso. He revs the engine before pulling away from the trailer park and makes his way to the lake house using the directions Veronica had sent that morning. You tried to ignore how your heart seemed to stop whenever you remembered how close the two of you were, trying to keep your focus on the passing woods.

After about forty-five minutes you slowed to a stop in front of a house the size of the entire Sunnyside trailer park. The others approached you as you and Sweet Pea gaped at the building.

"You made it!" Veronica smiles, taking back your attention. "You two can set your stuff in your room."

"Room?" You ask, slight panic rising in your chest at the lack of a mention of separate rooms.

"My uh parents only gave me permission to use three so we're all two to a room." She says, not fully convincing you but you say nothing else knowing it would be a pointless conversation as you follow her into the house. "Last door on the right." Veronica says, you nodding and walking up the stairs with Sweet Pea behind you.

"Holy shit." You hear Sweet Pea breathe as you step inside. "This room is as big as four trailers."

There was a queen sized bed on one wall facing a wall made of windows with a door leading to a balcony. Another door sat on the wall next to it leading to a bathroom, the room complete with themed decorations. You both set down your bags and meet the others downstairs, the sun setting below the lake outside as you made small conversation and played a few games.

About an hour after the sun was out of sight you were all sitting in the hot tub with a drink in hand. While the others sat practically on top of one another you and Sweet Pea stayed a safe distance apart sometimes your arms brushing against each others causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You'd easily finished two drinks trying to loosen up and not be so tense when everyone was having fun. You just couldn't stop thinking about every little thing Sweet Pea did from the smile that grazed his lips when the others made jokes to how you could swear he was getting closer to you.

Events seemed to start blurring into each other, you hardly being able to give any of your focus to the others conversation. You hardly realized you were leaning against Sweet Peas side, his arm lazily hung around your shoulders.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." You excuse yourself climbing out of the hot tub.

"Are you okay?" Betty asks, observing your wobbled way of walking.

"I'm fine." You say, waving a hand at her right before slipping, twisting your ankle and landing hard on the stones around the water. You hear multiple people climb out as you groan and turn over on to your back, squinting your eyes.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Sweet Pea asks, helping you sit up as you rub your head.

"Totally." You groan, looking around at the others who give you looks of concern. "I'm probably gonna go uh lie down."

With that you attempt to stand up but wince and lift your leg at the pain from putting pressure on your ankle.

"Need help?" Pea asks, standing up next to you. You nod and he wraps an arm around you, trying to help you walk but you find it awfully hard to hop on one leg in your state. He shakes his head before scooping you up in his arms, carrying you the rest of the way inside. He gets you upstairs, setting you down on the bed but falling over and ending up on top of you, his cheeks burning bright red.

"I uh..." He says, opening and closing his mouth to finish his sentence but no words come out.

Third floor on the West Side, me and you

Handsome, your mansion with a view

Do the girls back home touch you like I do?

Long night, with your hands up in my hair

You look into his eyes, your hand coming up to cup his face before bringing your lips to his. He hesitates a moment before returning the kiss, moving himself fully above you. The once small kiss quickly turns heated, your hands roaming his body. Your lips trail down to his neck, sucking on the soft skin. His hands lace in your hair, tugging on the y/h/c locks occasionally.

That night you did something you'd never imagined would happen between you and Sweet Pea, not even thinking about how many boundaries were bring broken and how you weren't thinking of your delicate friendship.

The next morning when you woke up you immediately felt yourself go hot clammy finding your head on Sweet Peas chest with nothing but the bed sheets separating your skin from his. Your heart tightens in your chest as you back away from him, having to pry his arm from around your waist before retreating to the opposite side of the bed. Sweet Pea groans and opens his eyes as he sits up, the blanket falling off of his upper body as he does so. Your cheeks and ears burn bright red when he looked to you, your eyes holding his for a quick moment before looking down at the mattress.

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it chill that you're in my head?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

Is it cool that I said all that

Is it too soon to do this yet?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

"Shit..." He mumbles. "Look I um-"

"It's fine." You cut him off in a small voice. You didn't mean to sound so scared but you were utterly terrified of this ruining everything the two of you had. "I just... I don't want this to change anything."

Sweet Pea nods, meeting your eyes again. You don't know why it hurt you to see regret slightly on his.

"I like you, Sweet Pea." You say, everything in you freezing as you say the thing you had barely admitted to yourself. You don't see any reaction on his face prompting you to rant out of nerves. "I thought that if I just ignored it it'd be fine but I can't get you out of my head. I know that you will probably not want to see me after this and I understand that it's just-"

Sweet Pea cuts you off by cupping your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your mouth went dry and you couldn't get any words out as your eyes scanned his face finding something you couldn't quite identify. One of the things on your mind was how you were practically shattering the delicate relationship you had. You felt like you were ruining everything and you just lost one of your closest friends because you were stupid and couldn't keep your emotions to yourself.

"I'm sorry. For all of this." You manage to say.

"Don't be." He says quietly. Neither of you quite understood the reason for being so quiet, maybe not to scare the other away with anything above a whisper. In seemingly slow motion he leans forwards until his lips are on yours soft and warm in a delicate kiss made of rose petals. Everything between you two was delicate from the way his hand gently held your face to whatever your relationship was now. But something that wasn't delicate was the fireworks you were seeing even though your eyes were closed, the colours exploding between the two of you. You both pull away, not getting very far as your foreheads press against each others.

"You're okay with this?" Sweet Pea asks, his breath lightly hitting your face.

"Of course." You smile before connecting your lips again, finally breaking through that delicate phase of your friendship and into a relationship that you'd always thought would never happen in that bed, a kiss being the bond in front of the sunrise over the lake making the whole moment even more perfect and warm and golden.

Cause I know that it's delicate

Delicate

[herecomesnaya]

Hey! Feel free to ignore if this isn't something you feel like answering - or is something you've answered before - but I was wondering if you have any tips on writing smut. I've never written smut before, but the fic I'm writing now features it pretty heavily and I find myself totally at a loss. As someone who writes, imo, some of the best smut out there, I would love to hear your opinion.

so! I've been thinking on this ask a lot, and I think I've finally got some advice to give. of course, note that everything is subjective and I'm not an expert, but these are the things I consider when I go about writing my own smutty stories.

the most important thing I like to consider when I'm writing smut, and the thing that tends to make or break a story for me when I'm reading it, can be summed up as, "remember that you're still writing about characters first, and sex second." so what does that mean?

there's a trend I see a lot, both in fics and in published novels, where, once the sex scene starts up, it transitions from "a story about X and Z" to "a story about two people fucking." they could be any two people with any relationship, you could swap out the names and have a perfectly viable sex scene with an entirely different couple. the action is generic, perhaps under-explained, the dialogue is scarce to nonexistent, and this is where purple prose takes hold for a lot of people.

now, there's nothing wrong with a quiet, calm, generic sex scene, where you use flowery language, and things begin and end fairly quickly. but that's not my style, and, imo, tends to work better for stories where sex isn't meant to be the focus. if you want to write smut -- here defined as "a sex-focused story where the intent is to provide an arousing piece of media for someone to consume" -- then you'll need a little more than that.

alright, so how do you do that?

this is where that little soundbite of advice from above comes into play. don't think of your story as "background for the sex, then sex, then the ending." think of it all as one flowing thing, where your characters are interacting and influencing the narrative the entire time.

take their personalities into account. are they easygoing? uptight? prone to fits of laughter? adversarial? when they're together, do they work like a well-oiled machine, playing off of each other, or do they butt heads? do they respect each other? love each other? hate each other? is this their first time doing it, their sixth, their hundredth? how do they feel about sex outside of the bedroom? when’s the last time they masturbated, if they do that at all? do they watch porn? if so, what kind?

these are all the kinds of questions I like to ask myself when I'm thinking of writing a pornographic story. I'm not saying you have to know their whole backstory, sexual history, and kink roster, but it helps to keep those things in mind, the same way it helps to keep a character's past traumas in mind when writing new ones.

here's the tea: everyone has sex differently. there's no "normal" way to have sex. there's no standard for it (no matter how much the media would like you to believe that heterosexual sex in the missionary position while wordlessly staring into each other's eyes is the "default"). when you write smut, you shouldn't have to stick to the "standard" way that it's supposed to go.

you know the one: kissing, oral, one finger, two fingers, three fingers, penetration, orgasm. at worst, it's like reading an IKEA catalog. again, there's nothing inherently wrong with this order of events -- I've used it plenty of times myself! -- but it's not some formula that you have to use in order for your sex scene to be "correct."

during every step of the way, try to think about who you're writing about, and how they interact. imagine their banter, if they're the type. or maybe one of them shuts down during sex, goes into a wordless state of arousal, clams up and doesn't speak as much as they usually would, etc. maybe their partner notices and works harder to please them, or pauses to make sure they're alright, or they're so caught up in the moment that they don't even realize what's going on around them.

there are so many ways people can react during sex. and, it's important to note, someone's personality outside of the bedroom doesn't always necessarily translate to what they're like inside. the "geek in the streets, freak in the sheets" trope exists for a reason! sex is something that brings out a lot of emotions, floods your brain and your body with chemicals, makes you vulnerable in a way that you usually aren't. all of those things are going to have an effect on someone.

so, think about your characters: does that buff warrior-type stay dominant and aggressive in bed, taking charge, bossing their partner around, being physically domineering? or do they soften up for someone they like? maybe they put on an aggressive front, but when they're in the privacy of someone's bed, or when they're exposed and getting touched intimately by someone, they let the other person take control. likewise, is that shy, stuttering character going to go beet red at the sight of a pair of underwear, or do they come out of their shell when they're comfortable with someone, and show a side of themselves that would surprise the people who know them?

now, don't take all this to mean that you have to stick to a certain set of sexual preferences that "makes sense" for the character. I'm of the opinion that you can make almost anything make sense, particularly if the character in question isn't shown having sex in canon. real people are so varied in their sexualities, and their kinks, and their fetishes, and it's much more complex than just "big, strong man likes to top," or "girl who likes anime also watches tentacle hentai." we really don’t know what causes fetishes or kinks, so there’s no justification you have to put forth for why someone likes something. they could just like it.

take, for example, the debate a while back about whether Jason Todd tops or bottoms. I put forth an “argument” (I use that word loosely) that he's one of those people who plays up his aggression, but is actually a softie when it comes down to it. people on the other side say that he's a control freak who likes to stay that way in the bedroom, or that his aggressive vigilante personality would translate to his sexual encounters.

both of these interpretations are completely valid! the people who say he likes vanilla sex and maybe a little bondage are valid. the ones who (like me) write about him being a masochist getting whipped and pissed on are valid. the ones who say he's asexual are valid. everyone has their own view on what he'd be like sexually, and that's absolutely fine!

whatever your point of view may be, just try to keep it in mind when you write. get in that character's head. let them speak and move and stop and start and change up the script. let them get into an argument mid-fuck and stop to finish yelling, or go faster and rougher while they're banging. let one person say something that the other one takes the wrong way. let them have sex without enough lube, or with too much that grosses one partner out to the point where they can't stop thinking about the mess on the sheets. let them start off strong, then zone out, enter subspace or even domspace (which, while more rarely talked about, is still a thing).

and when in doubt, read! read fics you like. examine their structure, their length, the way they describe body parts and the way they move together. note which sentences made you the most excited, and try to figure out why. was it the vulgarity? the release of something the narrative had been building up to? did the author paint a vivid picture in your head, and what words did they use to do it?

another helpful idea: watch some porn (homemade porn is especially good for getting a more realistic idea of how people have sex). think about how you'd describe the people onscreen if you were writing about their encounter. do his nails dig into her skin, making soft indents in her thick hips? does he have to work his cock in slowly, and when he does, does his partner's breath stutter, does his voice get higher? when someone's licking their partner's pussy, do they focus on the clit, or lap at the labia, or tongue-fuck them? do they need to be told to do something differently, or does the couple already know their partner's body well enough to get them off with little communication?

the long and short of it: nobody has sex in a vacuum. porn doesn't need to follow a formula. everyone's going to have sex differently, be it from person to person or even from encounter to encounter. keep in mind who they are, where they are, what they were doing to get to this point, what they're thinking and feeling besides just the physical. when you inject that personality into your smut, it gives it a liveliness that makes it stand out amidst a sea of "fingers in hole, penis in hole, moaning, orgasm, end."

I hope this helped someone! and if anyone would like more info on anything, please do let me know. I may make a part 2 of this if there's enough interest/if I think of something else! :) thanks for reading!