#he means so much to me. truly. i still remember rather vividly what it was like when i first lost the 50/50 then pulled him months later!

[salsflore]

i’m allowed to be silly once a month. now look away

[toms-cherry-trees]

Thrilling Chase || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: All the girls want him. One does not. And he wants her

Word Count: 1551

Warnings: Not really. Aemond being a bit more of book Aemond than show Aemond and being overall annoyed with life

Author’s note: I dreamt this plot Sunday night and spend the entire day racking my brains to turn it into a fic. Please let me know about any errors, I am still polishing my English. Also this Aemond I am not sure I got the characterization right but I liked how it turned out. And remember I interact from @finite--incantatem

The ball is being hosted with the purpose of celebrating Aegon’s nameday. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of his birth than being surrounded by fine drinks and lovely ladies, a field full of flower buds for him to pick and spoil? Aemond can barely stand the frivolous pomp and pageantry, the ass kissing lords showering his brother and father in banal pleasantries and praises, as if any one of them paid any heed to such flummery; one too inebriated to care and the other unable to hear anything above his own wheezing. 

Aemond has tried to excuse himself three times before the feast has even been served; as dutiful as he could be, even he has a limit, and his limit has been long surpassed by this insufferable event. But his weak spot has overcome his distaste, in the form of his gentle mother, who implores him to play the part for the evening. His sweet mother, who does everything in her power for the family to present a united front, all while sweeping the shambles behind the drapes. Only for her happiness is he willing to endure this foolery.

He hoped that chatting up some minor lordlings and not yawning before them would be enough to fulfil his obligations; but he has not accounted for the unwanted feminine attention. Aemond thought his physical imperfections and his downright hostile demeanour would be enough to ward off the ladies, but he could not deny the facts; as the eldest bachelor in the family, he remains a coveted prize to whom lords would offer their daughters in silver trays. He can vividly imagine them, ambitious men whispering in the ears of their girls and urging them to employ any means necessary to get in Aemond’s good graces. Only then could he explain the parade of fair maidens, all of them more adorned than carnival horses, showering him with their candid smiles and their coy giggles, batting their eyelashes and hinting most cunningly how much they would love to dance. They all seem to ask the same pre thought and bland questions; if one more lady asks to ever see Vhagar, Aemond would go and bring her down to the hall for them to see up close and personal.

Just when he hopes he has done enough to please his mother and the crowds, the first dances begin. One look from the Queen deters his efforts to flee the scene; without word, he has been reminded that his duty has yet to conclude. But Aemond would much rather eat Aegon’s toes than be found dancing with a lady. All his dexterity and gracefulness in the sparring yard do not translate to his waltzing skills; while he could be fast and silent and slippery in the face of the enemy, at the tune of the strings he possesses the elegance of a rotting tomato left in the sun.

The Prince knows the second he sets foot into the dance floor, he will be swarmed with adoring girls. But he cares not for them, since he has already set his eye on one. Just like the others she is burdened by golds and silks and stones, but unlike them, she carries her adornments with such grace and dignity that the opulence of her garments only brings forth her natural beauty.

There is something in her, something unidentifiable and unexplainable, that makes her so…so alluring. It may be the way her lips hold a perennially ineffable smile, so subtle one cannot truly tell it is there, but the mere possibility of its existence is enough to entice the mind. 

It could also be her hands. Aemond cannot stop staring at them, from the way her fingers curl around the stem of the goblet, to the particular way they bend when she holds onto the pendant hanging from a fine gold chain around her neck, a subtle move that occurs whenever a young man engages her in conversation. Her left hand holds delicately onto a small fan, although its purpose seems to add to her aura of mysticism rather than keep her cool; her face disappears behind it whenever her smile becomes too wide, only her piercing eyes remaining visible, keeping her expressions unreadable, a most intriguing secret.

Only the greatest artists of the country, working for years on the best of marbles, could even dare to come close to resembling her splendour. The figure of the Maiden brought to life, and that would be a most dashing compliment - for the Goddess.

If he is to dance, he must dance with her.

He cuts through the crowd, moving past wide-eyed ladies and squeezing around dancing couples with one objective in mind. She is right there, standing near the pillar bearing the image of King Jaehaerys. She is alone, and she saw him coming. The proximity of the prey has Aemond on edge, muscles tense and ready to pounce. A man cuts his way, and he pushes him aside vigorously, but it is too late. Her figure has disappeared amongst the crowd like a vision.

Aemond spots her again a few minutes later, near the massive gates of the hall. Once more he approaches her, but he is distracted by his mother asking something, and once more loses his chance. The process repeats several times, with her always standing just at his fingertips but never close enough to grasp, her presence so real yet also so unsubstantial he begins to think he is trapped in a vivid dream.  

The Prince is well damn tempted to just order everyone but her out of the chamber, but there is something in the chase, the subtle yet invigorating excitement of the pursuit, the way his pupil is blown wide and his jaw set in concentration. A sensation he has only ever experienced while wielding his sword in the training yards or soaring the skies with his dragon. An unexplainable elation, all due to this little dove who keeps flying away.

Aemond groans in frustration as she evades him once more. How can she be so fast and nimble while wearing a heavy gown? Are the Seven playing a wicked game on him, fate holding the prize above his head just out of reach? He does not care now for dancing nor pleasing his mother. This is a matter of pride; to go through all these obstacles to drop out mid-hunt would be shameful and disappointing. 

She is now across the room, now more easily visible due to the dwindling crowds. She is looking straight at him, half her face obscured by her fan. But she pulls it down softly, painfully slow, and Aemond’s heart beats frantically in his chest, like he is witnessing the unveiling of the world’s greatest mystery. The fan rests lightly on her chin, and she rewards the prince with a cunning smirk.

She is doing it on purpose.

It all makes sense now. How could he be so stupid not to realise she has been playing the game alongside him? Evading him and taunting him, letting him think he had her and then slipping away like sand. This newfound knowledge spurs his desires. He needs to have her close, needs to know who she is and why is she doing this to him. His decorum and self-control slips away as a new feeling blooms within him. A warmth blooming in the depths of his body and spreading through his body. The more he cannot have her, the more he wants her. She may be akin to the image of the Maiden, but Aemond is sure the deity has never evoked the thoughts now crossing his mind, nor has any other woman ever before. 

Determined to sate his curiosity, and perhaps some other lowly needs, he makes a straight line for her. She does not move nor backs out, and he can already feel the silk of her dress under his fingertips and the scent of her perfume in his nose. He doesn’t understand where the primal urge to crash his lips against hers stem from, but he is ready to give in to that urge as well.

His marching is cut abruptly by the colliding of his body against a long table. He had been so focused and lost, so unlike himself, that he paid no attention to anything or anyone around him, his vision like a tunnel focused upon her. The table is so long he would have to wander half the hall to circumvent it, and he still has enough hold of his wits to know it would be improper to vault over it or slide under the tablecloth. They are so close, yet the brief distance is unbreachable for the time being. 

His eye meet hers, the mischief dancing in her pupils. The corners of those soft lips tug just a bit more, sly and bewitching. She backs away slowly, the fan coming up once more to shield her face. She turns around and disappears behind a column amidst the rustle of stiffened skirts and the tinkling of her bracelets

Defeat overcomes the Prince, but a smirk spreads across his own lips. He has not given up the chase; he is just giving the dove a head start before the hunt resumes. 

[fishshit]

i truly think the "a good show makes you crawl on the floor, cry and suffer" mentality tumblr (2010-2016) created is STILL affecting our perception on what is a blorbo or not.

so first of all, let's look at the urban dictionary definition of blorbo:

NOWHERE on this page is saying a blorbo should be:

toxic

miserable

chaotic

dumbass

you should have a love-hate relationship with them

i'm definitely NOT saying that a blorbo shouldn't be all those things, but these are not necessary for a character to be a blorbo. [Miette (from real life) is a perfect example of this. she's our beloved blorbo and yet she's strong, a genius and non-toxic.]

now, i know most of yall know why i'm writing this. we all are aware of the active warzone tumblr has got going on. now to get to my point,

i know voltron fandom went apeshit over ships, created langst tags and stuff. (tbh i've learned all of these recently) but let's sit and think why. i've mentioned in one of my posts or rbs that the only thing i vividly remember about voltron is the queerbaiting and i know for a fact that queerbaiting was one of the biggest factors of these... actions. now when we look at yoi, we see a rather more peaceful fandom. is it because the show had a weaker chokehold on its fans? absolutely not.

i can assure you if yoi queerbaited us the way voltron did, there would be a chaos. and i'm not saying it in the way fans going crazy is funny or shit, no. i'm saying this as in real life chaos, like fans would threaten the creators or create their own reality. they WOULD remake yoi. there aren't any ship wars because victuuri (victor nikiforov x yuuri katsuki) is the ultimate ship, like there aren't any other possible options. nearly every single fan fell straight for victuuri. now think about how many fans are there and how many of them ships victuuri like they're praying to god itself. victuuri made me cry for DAYS, the plottwist was absolutely brilliant and no, none of these emotions were negative but god knows no show on earth made me feel the way yoi did. i'm not saying yoi is the best show ever or it's flawless. we all know our shows (blorbos are from) are generally not the best medias ever. but the way me and so many other fans bonded with this show, these 2 characters (or maybe 3, i don't like yurio that much) and that ship is indescribable. after watching yoi, i've realised that your favourite show doesn't necessarly need to make you feel like you've been stabbed in the chest bazillion times and suffer. no, it also can make you feel like you're on the verge of exploding with the white and shining happiness and love. i'm also pretty sure that's what most of the yoi fans feel, and also sure that no other show would make me feel the same way i felt while watching yoi.

yuuri katsuki, the man who made me feel all those things along with his husband victor nikiforov, is:

a canon bi king who had a crush on probably the prettiest girl in his childhood town and then got engaged to his lifelong idol (also probably the prettiest man in figure skating and,, the world)

anxious disaster (like, it's canon that he has anxiety and he was quite relatable and important for the fans with anxiety) who manages to say the MOST ridiculous stuff and yet tries his best to communicate with people about his needs and weaknesses

world's one of the best skater yet he's unaware how much of an pride he is for his country, fans and family and how good he is. STILL breaks his idols (literal legend of the figure skating) score

made irl queer people cry over him and figure skaters fall for him

got drunk af on the banquet of the gpf which he lost (BECAUSE HIS DOG DIED) and drank over 16 flutes of champagne AND DID POLEDANCE WITH THE SLUTTIEST MAN EVER, DANCED WITH HIS IDOL, WON A BREAKDANCE COMPETITION WITH HIS SOON-TO-BE RIVAL AND THEN DRY HUMPED HIS IDOL WHILE ASKING HIM TO BE HIS COACH

my point is, just because a character doesn't go through hell or make you feel like shit doesn't mean that he isn't a blorbo. you still can think that lance is more of a blorbo, good for you! but i really don't think we need fantasy to feel good.

[vampirelover890]

// OC Origins game!

I am once again attempting to treat this social media platform as a social platform. Thank you to @leahnardo-da-veggie for the tag!

Rules: I want to know how you came up with your original character’s names and personalities. Are they based on people in your real life? Are they straight from your brain? Are they a mix of several people?

I already kinda did this yesterday, but this means I get to talk about some other characters in depth!

Anders:

As mentioned in this post, Anders was originally meant to be a much more timid fellow who became more confidant and scheming while a werewolf, but that was hard to introduce as a concept and so the werewolf evolved into his own personality. Anders and many other characters here are born from my curiosity of the human detached from the human form. How humanity as a trait, the compasion and rage of love and hate, all the emotions that make us human, change in the context of a non-human creature. I have no clue how I came up with Anders, but I know that Deephall came first.

Nicholas Killer:

Nick was a name created for the half baked concept that was my first story on here. I remember vividly how the story itself came to be though; I like chatting with my dad quite a lot and was talking about a movie called Nosferatu featuring Willem Dafoe as a crazed vampire hunter, when he pitched me his idea for a vampire story: a crazy guy who is a menace to public safety looking for a vampire that doesn't exist. I took the idea and ran. I don't necessarily like the story in retrospect mainly because it's rushed and I don't feel I developed Nick enough as a character, but it is still there.

Siobhan:

Is a Gaelic name I found on a cool fantasy name generator while coming up for an alias to a character. I never did get to tell that story, even to the people it was for (dnd group) but that name stuck around in my head for a long time. Siobhan was almost another vampire! I'd had an idea for a vampire who lives minimum wage and has to learn and adapt to the customs of an office job, but I'd already done a vampire story and you can never have too many vampire stories, but I wanted to vary it up a bit, and so I landed on a zombie. (Also go check out Leah's Convenience Store Vampire story for something like what I just described) Siobhan is kind of a blank slate personality wise, only learning to use her wretched voice for evil recently, but she does know she causes harm to others when she eats them. She does it willingly. To live. To experience.

Ava:

I had a hard time figuring out what I should write about next, and sat spinning in a chair for about 30 minutes until I realized I hadn't touched on ol' reliable when it comes to writing; a fighting tournament. You can actually see me express my ideas for a wip over on my main blog. I then had another hard time trying to figure out what the basic plot was, and then I came to a name which got me stumped again. The long and short of it is that Ava is named after a character with the same name from Borderlands 3, because that game is fun, and it was the first one that popped into my head. Ava dismembered her family to learn the ins an outs of the human anatomy to truly understand how necromancers work their magic.

I kinda turned this into a Origins of the story rather than the character themselves, but ultimately I had fun talking my brain off to myself about the little fictional people I imagine in little gruesome scenarios.

I leave this to an open tag, mainly because I have no one to tag, and am too afraid to go out and make friends.

[stankycowboy]

“ 𝓢𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷 𝓥𝓪𝓷 𝓢𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮 ,” with a voice that commands attention she projects louder than necessary to ensure he hears her , denying him any leeway to claim otherwise , “… venez ici. ”

The instant her tone registers, a prickle of cold sweat rises to the surface of his skin. The words themselves make his very breath still. A list of recent transgressions race through his mind, each notated in a degree of severity and possible recourse to minimize expected punishment. It is futile to pretend he cannot hear her, worse still to act ignorant. Sheepishly, placatory smile in place, Severen slinks out before Lira, all innocence and charm. (Gee, gosh, me? Heaven's forbid!) "What'sa matter baby?"

The fact that she is using French is a terrible sign. If not meant to tease, it could only be for emphasis. He sticks to his drawl hoping it can smooth the rough corners. He fears they are too sharp to be dulled. Doing his best to not appear panicked, Severen frantically assess both her body language and the general atmosphere of the room. Lira is stony, unreadable, most likely by design, knowing he would be seeking information from so much as a hip tilt to find his way out of the hole he has-- unbeknownst to him-- begun to dig. Her expressionless nature causes him to notice their child standing beside her, looking a mixture of apologetic and confused, the former seems to be more out of fear of her mother's scorn than truly feeling guilty. Presumably there have been words shared that he has missed; ones that must have implicated a different cause to the mysterious predicament he is somehow involved in. It can mean only one thing, and as he turns the possibilities over in his mind he alights upon the probable incident.

"Aw, shit" he mutters through his teeth, lips barely moving as he holds his smile in place. The puzzle puts itself together in his mind, and he sees the story play out. She had been asking for stories about his time in the west, beating her wings, refusing to go to sleep until he regaled her. Severen was keen to give in anyway, doting on the rascal whenever able, but feigned the inconvenience. Nestled in tight together, he had settled on a tale of his time with the Comanche, a story well embellished with more western legend than fact. Mainly, due to him spending most of his time trying to avoid fights with the tribe outright, rather than engage them even peaceably. But there was one thing he remembered vividly as a boy out on the plain that would make his eyes saucer wide, the stories of scalping. When he relayed in gory detail the act of severing skin from skull, she too had gasped in elated horror, fanged teeth gnashing delightedly. It had taken him twice as long to calm her down afterward, so excited by the process. The only way he had gotten her to settle in, was to promise they could go get their own some night. He had not thought to doubt her patience.

Swallowing hard, Severen tried to begin an excuse. There were several false starts, then a stumbled beginning. "W-well how many could there be…" he shrugged. Their little one exuberantly cried, "One Hundred!" Raising clawed hands skyward. He didn't have breath enough to curse, a choked sound only escaped. It was not the fact that she had gone around scalping random strangers; even the quantity was not disturbing to either parent. It was rather-- he could now confirm, able to identify the odd scent permeating the room-- that she had stored them somewhere. Somewhere here. If there was one thing Lira had enforced over all else, it was keeping her den meticulous. The addition of one hundred rotting human skins was not what she had in mind.

"I…uh…" he floundered under the intense scrutiny of her blistering gaze. "…get rid of them?" He offered, watching his daughter look suddenly stricken. "No!" She cried, "Mine!" It felt like he was suffering the death of literary vampires, a stake penetrating his heart. "Lissen honey, you can't keep those---" She shrilly shrieks and he winces, knowing full well what this day will entail now, and how unprepared he was to deal with the fallout. "Shit" he grumbles again, unable to meet Lira as he feels her stare at him. This was his mess to clean up. He supposed it was merely one trial amongst many on the trying road of fatherhood. It was best—for his own sake— they find a better place for her trophies that was not pinning them to the walls of her bedroom. “Let’s you an me find a…special place…for yer scalps, alright?” The young beastie perked up, running to embrace her father. “Yes, yes, yes!” “Ok, let’s go on then”. He peeked back up to meet his lover’s face and caught the slightest grin there. A cool ease settled the knot in his stomach, but he was not out of the woods yet. Dragged by hand to her room, he and the little gremlin began to collect her hard won prizes.

[yallcantread]

heyy I hope you're doing well, and here's another random and totally-unrelated-to-this-blog question for you

what would you say are your all-time top 10 songs and why? (of artists other than you)

🦋see ya

Great question! Sorry that it took me long to answer this. I really thought about this question for a few days before compiling a list. So since I ramble a lot and seem to over explain, for your sake and mine I’ll offer 3. If you’d like more of my list just ask and I’m happy to oblige.

1. “Feel Good Inc.” by the Gorillaz - This song holds a special place in my heart as it was with me throughout my childhood. Its incredible melody and lyrics stayed with me every waking moment. Music plays a magical role in early childhood development, and despite not recalling much from when I was five, I vividly remember the first time I heard Feel Good Inc. It was during a family trip to New Orleans, and the music video was playing on a television channel, probably MTV. That moment started my obsession with the song, which remains to this day.

Feel Good Inc. introduced me to the genres of alternative rock and alternative rap. Its refusal to take itself too seriously is a significant reason why I adore it. Every aspect of the song is truly unique, unlike anything heard before its release. The lyrics possess an inherent uniqueness that showcases its point without sacrificing originality. Meaning it’s a song that isn’t commercial due to the lyricism, but was still able to become a popular song even without that mainstream commercial appeal. Personally, I struggle with writing music that sometimes sounds overly commercial, or formulaic. It isn’t on purpose but it just allows me to know I’m not trying hard enough. I’m making catchy baseless songs, nothing ground breaking.

Most Gen Z artists seem to emulate existing sounds rather than inventing groundbreaking ones. Even the most popular Gen Z artists of today often resemble replicas of others. However, Feel Good Inc. remains genuine. You can sense the sheer enjoyment the creators had during the recording process, making it an authentic piece of art. The song transitions through different sections, clearly demarcating the chorus and second verse. It’s an extraordinary once in a lifetime song. I’m happy I got to experience it when it came out.

2. “My Girl” by The Temptations - I love their entire discography. This song has been played almost in every single movie, show, and radio station but this song to me is still underrated. I love it. It’s so good. It’s so sweet and genuine. All of the temptations voices just sound perfect together. Papa Was A Rollin Stone and Just My Imagination by the temptations are definitely in my top 50. What I love about it is how David Ruffin first heard the song “My Girl” which was originally for Smokey Robinson and his group “The Miracles” and he begged Smokey Robinson to let the temptations record it. Smokey Robinson eventually gave in and it’s one of the best decisions he’s ever made. The usage of adjectives and metaphors in this song just smooth together so well. It’s a staple in the black community, for understandable reasons. In the Deep South, this song has been played in every single black household. It’s just culture. It’s hard to dislike the song and to find any flaws in it. Smokey Robinson has one of the best pens in music history as well, he wrote “My Girl” for his wife, who is also a miracles member. Claudette Rogers Robinson, bless her. What an amazing and talented individual she is. The song is artistically, culturally, and historically different. Music is amazing.

3. Your Body Is A Wonderland by John Mayer -

“Your Body Is A Wonderland” by John Mayer is, without a doubt, proof to this artist’s remarkable ability to produce awesome songs. When I first received my iPod, my mother, who has been my primary guide into the world of diverse themes and music, graciously provided me with a variety of songs that automatically synced onto my iPod. Among them was John Mayer’s entire discography, which naturally sparked my curiosity and took my interest. Mayer is an individual I deeply admire and find inspiring, as he stands among the greatest living guitar players on Earth today. I often wish I possessed even a fraction of his talent. One of the reasons I adore this particular song is its status as a quintessential pop song. Unlike many idealistic pop songs that heavily rely on beats or partying themes, “Your Body Is A Wonderland” opts for simplicity and relaxation. Its recording, bridge, and background vocals are proportionate, creating a harmonious piece of work that blends in well. The descriptive lyrics allow listeners to envision themselves staying in bed with a lover, cherishing the intimate connection shared between two individuals. It exudes a sense of sensuality without leaning excessively on explicit content. This era of music in the 2000s is often overlooked and underappreciated, despite housing an abundance of gems. Artists like Colbie Caillat, Natasha Bedingfield, Rob Thomas, John Mayer, and Ne-Yo delivered an array of soft pop songs that beautifully blend elements of happiness, sadness, and yearning, leaving an indelible impact. Overall, “Your Body Is A Wonderland” remains a testament to John Mayer’s artistry and showcases the magical ability of well-crafted pop songs to evoke emotions and transport listeners to a place of admiration and connection. I’d have to say Continuum, Room for Squares and Battle Studies are in my top 10 favorite albums. I didn’t know whether or not to mention Your Body Is A Wonderland or Heartbreak Warfare.

And those are 3 from my list. It isn’t my top 3 but just 3 i pulled that I thought would be interesting.

[erineverly]

Had Axl said those things even a few months ago, Erin would have jumped to conclusions and snapped at him, but now she can see that they’re on the same team — they both have their son’s best interest in mind and want to help him navigate through this difficult time. “I would never choose anyone over Sebastian and I know that you wouldn’t either,” she says with conviction, smiling softly even as her stomach churns like an old washing machine. The mere possibility that she’s invited this man into her home and now he might be mistreating her baby is enough to make her feel nauseous. It’s also a hard reality to accept, which is why she wants to deny it. However, she, too, has noticed those changes in Sebastian and there must be an explanation. She vividly remembers all the stories that Axl’s shared with her throughout the years, about how he was abused by his stepfather both physically and emotionally and how he acted out because of it, and even she can see that there are a few disturbing similarities. “Anthony would never lay a hand on him,” she insists with a shake of her head, certain that her boyfriend’s never disciplined her son in any way. Still, she can’t shake off this unsettling feeling that maybe she can’t be sure of anything. After all, it’s not like she knows Anthony all that well and he can be rather temperamental. “We need to sit him down and talk about this. I don’t know if today is a good day, but maybe… How do we even go about this?” As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, because it would mean that she’s not as observant as she thinks she is, that she’s failed to protect her only baby, she has to accept the fact that she could have missed something. “I want him to know that we’re always on his side, that I’m always on his side.” She doesn’t want Sebastian to wonder if he can come to her and open up, worry that she might not believe him. She’ll always believe him.

“It’ll always be one of my biggest regrets,” she admits with a sigh, pressing her lips together and inhaling deeply as his fingers sink into her dark curls. God, it feels so good. “I wish I’d listened to you and gotten help sooner, but I was so prideful back then. It was easier to point a finger at you and put all the blame on you than admit I wasn’t a good person. My therapist says that blaming others for how we express inappropriate actions enhances our sense of being justified for those actions, and I guess she’s right. It’s horrible to admit, but I didn’t feel quite as guilty about starting a fight or throwing that first punch if I told myself that it was all your fault. I’m sorry, Axl. You deserved so much better.” She doesn’t want to say it out loud, but when she lies alone in bed, struggling to fall asleep, she often ponders all the what could have been, what should have been, and ends up staying awake all night, wishing she’d made different life choices. “Neither of us was truly ready to be in a serious relationship at the time, but those were the best years of my life, despite all the issues and challenges so on one hand I’ll forever be grateful that you asked me out that night, but I also know that in the perfect world… We’d probably be meeting each other just now.” They have it all figured out now, both have gone through some intense therapy sessions, and it’s just their luck that they’re in different relationships and reconciliation isn’t an option. “It definitely did. You’re nothing like your parents. You realized there was a problem and got help. You admitted to all those mistakes and owned up to them. You’re the best dad in the world.” This apple really did fall far from the tree. “I’m happy, too. You have no idea how long I’d been meaning to have this conversation with you, how long I’d wanted to say all these things and hear you say everything that you just said. It means the world to me,” she says softly, letting out an airy chuckle as his lips brush against her head. Her heart nearly jumps out of her chest, expanding and stealing her breath away once more. The way he’s looking at her, with so much kindness, has her melting into a puddle, and for a split second it almost feels like they’re the only two people in the world. There’s something intimate about this moment, about the way they’re gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling, how their hearts seem to be beating as one again, the friendliness of these touches and hugs could easily be mistaken for affection, and just as this insane thought of doing something stupid like kissing his cheek begins to brew in Erin’s mind, the door flies open and startles her, their rumbustious four year old striding in. 

“It’s Eh-vis, baby!” Sebastian announces loudly, standing in the middle of the room with his feet a little too far apart for it to be truly comfortable. He lifts his right arm up into the air only to bring it down vigorously and pluck the strings of his toy guitar, causing an explosion of screeching sounds. He’s wearing that white jumpsuit, rhinestones sparkling, and his hair is standing up on top of his head, covered in so much mousse as though he were one of those synchronized swimmers at the Olympics and couldn’t risk a single lock slipping onto his face. He opens his mouth to start singing, give the performance of his lifetime, but that’s when his emerald eyes look up from his electric guitar and find his parents snuggled up to one another. Erin’s arms fall from Axl’s waist almost immediately, her jaw dropping to the floor when she realizes that they’ve left this child alone with no supervision for way too long, and she quickly covers her mouth with her hands, too stunned to make any sounds. “Why’d you — Umm… Why’d you close da door?” The boy inquires, tilting his head to the side as if that was the most peculiar thing in the whole world. A warm grin blooming on his angelic features because it's been so long since he saw mommy and daddy hug like this, and it makes him happy.

“I just don’t think he’s exaggerating. Sounds like how I acted when my mom chose me over strange men. Not sayin’ YOU are choosing anyone over him, just sayin’ those are similar things I did when I was being treated unfairly by her new boyfriend. That’s definitely how I acted out as a kid.” Majority of his entire childhood. And now that this conversation is branching into deeper territory about it, it starts to worry him. He’s going to have to question Sebastian more about it… what if that’s the real reason he’s being so clingy to him? “Not really much at all, it’s just things I notice he’s been giving away.” Like he previously stated just now.

“I know. That’s the part I always felt alone on, that’s the part I knew was going to finally be the thing to end our relationship…us BOTH not goin’ to therapy.” Actually, he hates recalling those moments when he felt he was talking to a wall because Erin had all that pride and there was no hope for them lasting when he realized that. “Yeah…” Confirming he remembers, he’ll never forget. “I’d never regret that, Erin. But at the same time…I was selfish. I wasn’t mentally stable to egg you on into a relationship with someone like me.” Too much damage to function like a caring person, he should’ve known that was a stupid thing to do but at the same time he couldn’t help he was wildly insanely in love with her. “It did?” His brows lift and surprise also lifts in his voice, at her thinking the opposite of hin. “Umm…” Eyes fall downwards, shyly thinking about it. He doesn’t know how much he believes in himself but he’s elated to know she can call him good after everything. “I don’t deserve that, sweetheart.” Shaking his head, he leans down to kiss the top of her head. “But thanks for sayin’ that and I’m glad we could talk about these things. I’m real happy.” Green eyes look back to her blue ones, his heart doing a flutter all on its own. A genuine smile passing by on his face for once. “I forgive you too.” His hands still brushing through her hair, more out of nervousness than anything because he doesn’t know how to suppress the unsolicited somersaults in his stomach as he’s frozen in this position with her.

[grismavessel]

Hmm, Ingo giving Gris a gift or Gris giving Ingo a gift

(So I drew a comic, but then I wrote a blurb. You're getting a two-for-one deal!)

"Here, I made you a gift!"

"For me?" Ingo asked, standing dumbfounded as Gris held the present box up. Their smile widened even more, a dopey giddy grin on their face.

"Yea silly!" They pushed the box further towards him, Ingo happily accepting the gift. The neat box had been wrapped in a bow, Gris hovering over his shoulder, dying to see his partner's reaction. "So I found it in a time distortion, and I think it's from Unova!" They explained, excited to see if Ingo recognized it or not. They had spoken about one another origins, Gris seeing that most of the clues for Ingo pointing towards that region. Gris had gone trinket hunting and had gotten extremely lucky, dodging dangerous pokemon and lightning to scavenge the space altering event. Most of the time, it was for any lost snacks or something useful like tools and devices, but this time, Gris found something rather charming, and maybe, helpful for Ingo. It only took some minor alterations and the right measurements to make it look presentable.

"How wonderful!" Ingo's frown curled into a smile.

"Hurry! Try it on!" Gris hinted at what the item it could be.

He opened the box, Gris must have found it in a distortion as well, the bow being more decorative than the key to keeping the box sealed. Inside he spotted a necklace with a silver medallion sitting on top of some spare soft material. "Ooh! A necklace! I've been meaning to accessorize-" Ingo was very grateful for the gift, cherishing every little thing Gris brought to him but then something on the medallion stopped his speech.

In the fog of his mind, something stirred. Like a murky mirror still reflecting light, the details unclear but it shone brightly.

"Wait- I've seen this before," He realized, the haze lifting more. Taking the medallion out, he examined it. On the face was the depiction of an abstract shape, or perhaps a mechanical machine. Due to the limited space, it was unclear to an unsuspecting eye, but the letters next to it helped. 'R-V-F-W', the letters ringing a bell that he just could tell where it was coming from.

He remembered seeing this shape before, but not in such a small form but to scale, in real life. He remembered it because it had been so grand and astonishing. Breath-taking almost.

"It's unclear- but I've been here." He'd seen this somewhere. "A round metal machine for entertainment and joy," The feelings were coming back to him. He remembered slight fear, overflowing joy and laughter, seeing skylines drift below him. "Why do I know this?" He asked out loud, Gris watching him recover this memory.

He thought some more, clinging to the medallion and piecing the pieces together. Joy, excitement, calmness. Then boredom? He'd seen the machine far too many times it became a passing thing instead of exhilarating.

'They say it's the crown jewel of the city,' Ingo's body froze as he was taken back. This was rare, the times when he did remember a memory so vividly, it was almost like a walking dream, sometimes nightmares.

He was small, a child, a round cap one size to big for him on his head. He was staring up at a poster, the machine displayed on it with grand letters saying 'Fun!' emphasizing it. He couldn't describe the machine as fun anymore, he and someone else had ridden it far too much, the glow having dimmed.

He turned away from the poster, and there it was. The man in white that reflected him, only this time the same height, maybe the same age, or maybe not there at all. The image was still riddled with holes and gaps, again Ingo could not tell if it was truly someone else or himself there.

The other did not speak, but shrugged their shoulders before shaking his head.

'We both agree that ______ is the better place.' The words came out of his mouth, connecting to another memory, this one less clearer. It was a memory of a memory of a place, full of people from all walks of life. He'd seen them arriving and departing, moving in swelled waves and disappearing like tides. It was a marvelous place, or it at least felt like it.

And as suddenly as he'd been reminded of the lost memory, he was pulled back out of it by a voice.

"Ingo! You're crying!" Gris's face had appeared before him, soured and worried. Ingo had dropped the medallion at some point, his hands free to feel his wet face and that he was indeed crying.

He didn't feel sad however, in fact, he felt rather happy. Gris was reaching toward him, to wipe the tears from his tired face, but instead, Ingo moved first. He threw his arms around Gris, holding on as if he would slip away into another vivid dream.

"I'm alright," He told them, feeling a tear trickle down his face. "I remembered something fond just now," He didn't know why he thought of it as fond. It left him wondering who and what the memory was. When was it? And why? Didn't matter, at least not right now. "Thank you love," He thanked Gris for the gift of both a treasure and medallion. Slowly he felt them relax, their racing heat beat returning to normal, returning his embrace and nuzzling into his shoulder.

"You're welcome," Gris said with a shaky voice, never having seen Ingo reaction to positively to a newly found memory before.

[emeren]

birthday boy - eren jaeger

shameless birthday fluff for the boy who deserves a happy ending and a happy birthday 

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 2.1k 

content warnings: absolutely none, 100% fluff!

notes: i’m emerging from my request writing hole to post this lil one shot for my love’s birthday. i did not read over this so there may be errors or whatnot, but enjoy!

SUMMARY: reader shows eren what it means to have a good birthday.

eren had never been one for birthdays. 

he’d tried, he’d really tried to love them just as much as everyone else did. he could vividly remember all of the kids in his class bringing in donuts and ice cream and handing out little handmade invitations - invitations he never received. 

after two or three failed birthday parties thrown by carla - birthday parties that only armin and mikasa showed up to - eren had stopped trying. he insisted that he hated march 30th and that it was the worst day of the year. his mom always made a big deal out of it anyway, insisting on taking the three kids out for ice cream and a movie in celebration. 

eren would’ve never admitted it, as his pride was too strong, but he liked the small celebration his mom would throw. just him and his two best friends, building blanket forts and being allowed to watch one PG-13 movie for the special occasion. 

he remembered his tenth birthday being the last one that he even bothered acknowledging. that was the last birthday with his mom, the last birthday that didn’t go forgotten on grisha’s busy schedule. that was the last birthday that he went for ice cream and got to watch a PG-13 movie. 

as he got older, birthdays became less of a big deal to his peers. they weren’t large scale, festive events, but rather small group hangouts that involved getting drunk in a field. some sad, petty part of eren enjoyed watching everyone’s special day become exactly like his had always been: just another of 365. 

he didn’t remember telling you what day he was born. in fact, he was sure he hadn’t told you. it’d been a conversation topic he’d narrowly avoided in the past; lucky enough to have met you around april in order to skip over the awkward ‘oh, it’s my birthday’ chat. 

so he was confused. 

he was confused when he pulled his apartment door open, only to be met with your figure holding a carefully wrapped gift. hell, even eren didn’t realize that it was his birthday. he’d stood there in the doorway, gawking at you with a half-asleep look in his eyes. 

“what’s that for?” he’d asked incredulously, pointing at the gift. you laughed, the sound music to his ears as you slipped into his apartment. 

“happy birthday!” you squealed, setting it down and wrapping your arms around his slim figure. eren frowned for a moment, mind counting through the days of the calendar until they landed on march 30th. oh, i guess it is my birthday.

he hugged you back, eyes still warily focused on the gift. “who told you?” he’d questioned. 

you smiled up at him, placing a light kiss on his cheek. “i have my ways.” 

eren didn’t know what emotion it was that burned in his chest at your soft grin. he desperately wished for it to be annoyance, but it wasn’t, so he resorted to feigning it instead. 

“i’d rather we didn’t make a big deal about it,” he grumbled, slipping from your arms and walking towards his kitchen. he didn’t see the way you rolled your eyes or the way you mocked his voice, only turning around to see you approaching him with a bag he hadn’t previously noticed. 

“that’s alright, i was just going to make you some breakfast, if that’s okay?” eren normally would’ve protested any other special treatment on his birthday, but it wasn’t very unusual for you to cook him a meal. eren had a big stomach, and absolutely no skills in the kitchen. he resorted to shrugging, not wanting to show you the way your suggestion made his heart skip. 

and so he watched you. he watched you flit around the kitchen and make him his favorite breakfast (waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, extra side of bacon). your movements were so mesmerizing he’d nearly forgotten about this rotten day, the day that his younger self had declared the worst of the 365. 

“here, shithead. enjoy your meal,” you hummed playfully, sliding the plateful of food in his direction. eren flipped you off, too hungry to pick a fight as he dove into his meal. 

he tried to ignore the feeling of you staring as he scarfed down his waffle. he’d hoped you wouldn’t say anything else about his birthday. “do you wanna open your gift after we’re done eating?” you’d asked. 

eren paused his feast to look up at you, your eyes focused on your own plate as you waited for a response. he was apprehensive, but decided to take the bait nonetheless. “uh, sure.” 

eren could remember the best gift he’d ever gotten. it had been a handmade terrarium from armin and mikasa for his eighth birthday. they’d gone out in the woods behind their houses and rifled through the bushes and weeds to put together a jar filled with all sorts of creatures and plants. eren’s favorite had been the spider - whom he’d lovingly named peter - as he would catch flies and other small insects to feed to him. he’d been so excited about their cheaply made gift that nothing had ever come close to topping it (not that he ever got much in the ways of gifts, anyway).

as you sat him down on the couch, carefully placing an oblong box in his lap, he was unsure. he loved you, no doubt, but he didn’t know what on earth you could’ve gotten him. 

his previous confusion only grew when he opened the box to find a bundle of wildflowers. they were a mix of baby hues, soft and simple. he looked to you, brow raised in question. 

“flowers?” he’d asked, mind pondering all the possibilities. you laughed lightly in response, standing from your seat next to him. 

“c’mon,” you gestured for him, eyes scanning his bare chest. “go put a shirt on and come with me.” 

eren sighed, standing himself as he set the flowers on the couch. “listen. i love you, i really do. but i would just rather we don’t make a big deal out of today, alright?” 

he watched you roll your eyes, watched you fold your arms over your chest.

“i’m not making a big deal out of today,” you’d responded, a hint of annoyance in your voice. “just go put a shirt on. it’ll just be the two of us.” 

eren talked a lot of game regarding his self-proclaimed willpower, but he would never understand how easily he caved to you. thirty minutes later, he was sitting in the passenger seat of your car, eyes mindlessly gazing out the window with the bundle of flowers in his lap. 

you were playing his favorite music, humming along as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel. he’d just stared at you, admiring your beauty as you turned up a desolate road that he’d been too focused on you to recognize.

it wasn’t until the car stopped; surrounded by newly blooming flowers and freshly greening trees, did he piece together where he was.

“mom?” he’d breathed, eyes glancing out the window. you just smiled in response, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car. eren looked down at the bundle of flowers in his lap, wildflowers, his mom’s favorite. 

in that moment he felt like crying. sure, he’d cried on his birthday before, but this was different. it was a cry of appreciation, one that burned in his chest as you impatiently pulled his door open. he was quick to blink the tears away, putting up a front as he got out himself. 

his mom’s cemetery was atop a hill, located away from the city amongst the trees and wildlife. he remembered picking it for her because of how freeing it felt - it was more of a place for remembrance that mourning. he knew that was what his mom would’ve wanted. 

eren showed his appreciation by wrapping your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as the two of you approached his mom’s headstone. 

“what made you think of this?” he’d asked quietly, setting the bundle of flowers right beneath her name carved within the granite stone. he remained kneeled in front of it; long fingers coming up to trace the words. he’d been surprised by your answer. 

“i know you hate your birthday,” you’d started, watching the moment in front of you. “and i know your mom was the only person that ever tried to make you enjoy it. i hope it wasn’t insensitive of me to bring you here? i just thought maybe you’d want to spend the day here with her.” 

and there it was again: that burning within his chest. he pulled his fingers back from the cold stone, relieved you couldn’t see the mix of emotions on his face. it was on the contrary. he’d never had someone think of him this way, think of what he truly wanted to do. he smiled as he stood to face you. 

“thank you.” he’d said sincerely, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the crown of your head.

the two of you sat for hours, hands wrapped together as eren told stories about his mom and talked to her gravestone as if she were really there, too. he talked about his tenth birthday; how his mom had rented some barely scary movie, but how armin couldn’t sleep for weeks following their watch. he talked about the time mikasa had beaten up one of the popular kids for only excluding eren from his birthday party. before he knew it, he was wrapped up in stories upon stories. 

all too fast, the sun began to dip past the horizon. the two of you stood from the grass, pants slightly damp with mud but neither of you cared. eren leaned down, pressing his lips to the stone as a parting goodbye - something he’d started doing as a kid. 

as you drove away, eren felt content with how the day had gone. he watched the sunset from the window, face flushed and a small smile on his lips. he enjoyed the sweet moment, but couldn’t help the perverted thought that crossed his mind. he’d never had birthday sex before, and oh boy was he excited to try. 

the car stopped outside of his apartment, the two of you walking up to the door hand in hand. he grabbed his keys, about to unlock the handle when you stopped him. 

he loved when you looked at him like that. when your eyes were big and doe-like, filled with a mix of adoration and excitement. your hands carefully wrapped around his jaw, pulling his lips down to meet yours in a tender, warm kiss. 

he could feel his heart clench at the action, pulling away with a smile on his face. “what was that for?” 

“i just love you, ‘s’all.” you hummed in response, motioning for him to open the door. eren hated that you could make him blush, looking away with a playful roll of his eyes. 

he wasn’t expecting what waited for him behind the door. 

with the flick of the light switch, all of his friends popped up from around the apartment, yelling ‘surprise!’. his eyes widened in shock, a large banner that read off ‘happy birthday eren!’, but the words were all scrunched together at the end, the banner not large enough. 

“connie made that!” armin explained hurriedly, as if noticing the way eren’s eyes traced over the decoration. eren couldn’t help the burning in his chest as he looked at all of his closest friends. 

sasha, connie, jean, mikasa, armin, you. you, who had clearly planned this all. eren wasn’t ever very sappy, at least not since he was in high school. but the burning in his chest had become too much to bear, overwhelmed by all of the decorations and confetti, and thoughtfulness. 

he looked at you, tears in his eyes. he’d never had a big party before. he’d always wanted one, and here it was. “thank you.” 

“goddammit, this is what you get for taking him to the cemetery before his surprise party!” jean yelled, pointing at his friend. “i don’t think i’ve seen you cry since you were an annoying ass teenager!” 

“oh, shut the fuck up,” eren replied lightheartedly, embracing each of his friends. he wasn’t even embarrassed to cry. it’d been so long since he’d felt so loved. 

and so you all sat, eating ice cream and watching a horror movie. eren was in the middle, you curled up on his one side and armin on the other. as all of his friends enjoyed his birthday, squealing at the unnecessary gore, he couldn’t help but smile. 

maybe march 30th wasn’t the worst day, afterall.

<3 <3 <3 

[ailendolin]

Fluff Friday - 4 - BBC Ghosts

Title: Howling [AO3]

Characters: The Captain & Kitty, Alison & Everyone

Prompt: The Captain telling Kitty a bedtime story - Prompt by the lovely @right-amount-of-weirdness

A/N: The story the Captain tells Kitty in this is one of many my own grandmother used to make up and tell me when I slept over at her and my grandfather's place. It's very dear to me and I'm more than grateful that I asked her to tell it to me again when I'd grown up so I could write it down.

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you as well just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

Six Idiots Whump Wednesday / Fluff Friday masterlist is here.

————

Howling

“Katherine,” the Captain said in surprise. He was just coming in from his late night patrol and had not expected anyone to be still awake at this time of night, least of all young Kitty. “What are you still doing up? You must be tired after last night.”

Kitty gave him a miserable look. “I am but I just can’t fall asleep. I can’t get Freddy Krueger out of my head. And I don’t mean that in a good way.”

“Hm,” the Captain said, not happy to hear that. “Alison never should have told you to watch that film if it’s so scary.”

“It was,” Kitty said, her eyes wide with fear in the moonlit hallway. “It truly was. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to sleep again.”

Her shoulders heaved with a barely suppressed sob and she buried her face in her hands, clearly distressed. For a second, the Captain faltered, not used to dealing with people when they were upset. It was one of the many reasons why he’d liked the military so much – there had been no room for emotional outbursts of any kind there. If any of his soldiers had ever cried, they surely hadn’t done it in his presence.

Unwillingly, he thought of Havers. Had he ever cried, the Captain wondered. Surely not at Button House – but at the front, perhaps? The things one saw there … they could be hard to stomach. The Captain might not know this from personal experience but he vividly remembered the nights he had lain in bed with his eyes wide open while his father screamed in his sleep because his mind had still been trapped in The Somme. He desperately hoped Havers had never been haunted like that; and if he had that perhaps the thought of Button House and his old CO had brought him some comfort over in–

Kitty sniffed loudly, bringing the Captain back to the present. He took in her shaking shoulders and hunched posture and wished he knew how to make her forget that dreadful film. Someone with such a radiant and beautiful personality as her should never cry like this.

“How about I walk you to your room?” he said, feeling rather helpless in the face of her emotions – something he would never admit to openly but also couldn’t quite deny.

Kitty finally lowered her hands. Her eyes were brimming with tears but her face was completely dry – one of the more deceiving side effects of their ghostly existence. “I think I’d like that.”

Relieved, the Captain offered her his arm. He didn’t say anything when she clung to it – simply offered her a reassuring smile and led her down the hallway and up the stairs. Once they reached her room, he turned to her.

“Do you think you can sleep now?”

Kitty shook her head. “What if Freddy Krueger finds me?”

“Well,” the Captain said, an idea striking him. “I suppose I could stand watch – make sure that man won’t haunt your dreams.”

“Really?” Kitty’s face lit up – and there was that beautiful smile the Captain had missed so much. “You would do that for me?”

The Captain cleared his throat. “If it’ll help you sleep, Katherine …”

Kitty nodded eagerly. “Oh, I think it would, Captain. Thank you so much!”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the door into her room. The Captain tried not to think about how inappropriate this was – a man in a lady’s room, after midnight and with no chaperone no less. Not that he would ever proposition young Kitty in that way. She was, for lack of a better term, like a daughter to him, and he was, well–

“Father used to tell me a bedtime story when I couldn’t sleep,” Kitty said, interrupting his thoughts. “Not from a book, though – he always made them up in his head. His stories were the best.”

She sighed wistfully.

“My grandmother used to do the same,” the Captain admitted quietly, hoping that by sharing this he might distract Kitty from her past and the sorrow that lay there. “I sometimes stayed with her when my mother had to take my father to the hospital – his health was very poor, you see. She could paint the most incredible pictures with her words.”

He had never told anyone that, and for a moment he regretted sharing that dear memory. But then Kitty looked up at him and asked, very quietly, “Do you – do you think you could tell me one of her stories?”

The Captain hesitated. “I’m not sure if I even remember all the parts–“

“That’s okay,” Kitty smiled at once. “You can just make something up. Father used to say that’s how all great stories come to life.”

“Well,” the Captain cleared his throat. “Who am I to argue with the man who raised such a wise young woman?”

Kitty giggled at the compliment and patted her bed. The Captain slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress. It might not be the most comfortable position to be in but it allowed him to see her face without invading her personal space.

“What will the story be about, Captain?” Kitty asked eagerly. “Dashing heroes, beautiful princesses and fearsome dragons?”

The Captain shook his head. “None of that, I’m afraid. It’s about a young wolf cub who grows up to be a leader.”

Kitty gasped. “Oh, I love it already!”

The Captain’s lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile as he began his grandmother’s story.

“Once upon a time, there lived a wolf pack in the forest. One night, when the moon was full, a young wolf was born into the pack. He was as dark as the midnight sky while all the other wolves were grey, and he was weak and very sickly. The pack’s leader took one look at him and told his mother to take him away.”

Kitty gasped. “Oh no. Did she really abandon him?”

The Captain nodded. “She had no choice if she wanted to stay with the pack. It was winter, you see, and prey was scarce. The pack meant safety for her.”

“But he was her son!” Kitty protested. “How could she do that to him?”

“The wolf mother asked herself the same question when she came back to the pack’s den later that day, alone,” the Captain said. “Try as she might, she could not forget her son’s beautiful face so that night, when the pack was sleeping, she sneaked back outside to find him. He was right where she had left him, lying curled up by a tree stump and shivering miserably in the cold.”

“I bet he was happy to see her,” Kitty said. “Did they go back to the pack and confront the leader?”

“No,” the Captain said. “They ran away, as fast and as far as they could until they found a different forest, one outside of their old pack’s territory. Being on their own wasn’t easy for them at first, but eventually they managed to find a den and also some prey. Hares and mice, mostly, and every now and then a struggling deer. Enough to get by if only barely. Winter eventually turned into spring and life got easier for them. The young cub grew and became healthy and strong. One day, he and his mother found a wolf cub by the riverbank. She was completely drenched and exhausted, and terribly alone, so they took her in. It didn’t matter to them that she was white as snow, or that something was wrong with her left front paws so she could only limp. She became a part of their family, and so did all the other cubs they found over the years, abandoned just like our young cub had been once upon a time. The pack grew and grew and with the midnight-black wolf as their leader, they thrived in their new home.”

Kitty smiled up at him sleepily. “And they lived happily ever after, howling at the moon.”

“That they did,” the Captain said softly.

Shifting around a little to get more comfortable, Kitty yawned. “That was a wonderful story, Captain. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

The Captain, feeling a little flustered, cleared his throat. “Do you think you can fall asleep now?”

Kitty nodded and closed her eyes. “You will still stay, though, won’t you? Just until I–?”

“Yes,” the Captain said. “I’ll be here.”

Peace settled over Kitty’s face then and her shoulders relaxed. The Captain turned away from her, giving her her privacy, and looked out of the window, his swagger stick tightly clutched between his hands. The moon was nearly full and he’d like to think that one of the countless twinkling stars around it might be his grandmother, looking down at him and smiling from very far away.

“Well done, lad,” he imagined the wind whispered.

“Captain?” Kitty suddenly asked, sounding on the verge of sleep.

“Yes, Katherine?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Alison made us into a family, didn’t she? Just like that young wolf and his mother did with all the abandoned cubs.”

The Captain swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. He hadn’t realised what sort of parallels he’d been drawing with his grandmother’s story but now that Kitty had pointed them out it was hard to deny them. For Kitty was right: they had all been lost in some way, hurt and a little bit broken, and somehow Alison had managed to turn them from a group of strangers into a family – one that squabbled and fought and rarely saw eye to eye, perhaps, but was always there for each other when it counted. Just like he was there for Kitty now, or how Patrick had been there for him the day before when he’d realised that the Captain had no idea how to build a shelter or get a fire going and hadn’t laughed at him for it.

Unconsciously, he reached up to touch the award Patrick had given him a few hours ago and smiled.

“She sure did, Katherine,” he whispered into the dark.

Kitty didn’t reply and one look at her confirmed that she had finally fallen asleep. The Captain allowed himself a small, fond smile before he looked back outside the window at the moon and the stars. He would stay a little longer, he decided; to make sure Kitty’s dreams weren’t haunted.

After all, that’s what family did.

[blu-joons]

You Threaten To Walk Out On Him ~ Kim Namjoon

You weren’t surprised as you finally arrived home to be greeted by silence and darkness. Despite knowing that Namjoon’s schedule had ended some time ago, there was no sign of him in your home at all. You instantly walked through into the kitchen, switching on the light before taking a seat with a bottle of water straight out of the fridge.

As you looked around the house, your head could only shake at how quiet it was. You were in despair at yourself for even thinking that Namjoon would be home when the trend had been so common to come home to nothing.

At an alarming rate, it was beginning to feel like everything was falling apart, for all the times Namjoon promised you that work wouldn’t get in the way, it was driving a pretty big wedge between you both currently.

After staying at the table for just under an hour, catching on what had been going on throughout the day, you finally heard the front door open. A soft hum came from Namjoon, almost making himself comfortable, before he spotted you sat up in the kitchen still.

“I didn’t think you’d be home yet,” he muttered, walking around you to grab himself a drink.

“I finished an hour ago, later than you did too.”

His head nodded, sitting down opposite you. “Bits came up, you know what it’s like, I couldn’t leave without getting them all done.”

“Too busy to not even send me a text and let me know you’d be late once again,” you challenged, “it’s not like this is a one-off time that you’ve been busy, is it?”

Namjoon was exhausted, gulping down quickly on the water bottle, however, he could tell that you were frustrated in your voice, and you weren’t one to let something go either when you got hung up on it, especially something that felt as big as this.

“For once I thought I’d come home and see you sat here waiting, how stupid am I?” You scoffed.

His eyes looked down to the table, flinching slightly at the hurt that was so clear. He didn’t intend to forget you, or leave you constantly waiting for him, and as much as you understood that that was a part of his job sometimes, the endless pattern of coming home to an empty home didn’t feel like it was about to break.

You could still vividly remember the days when Namjoon would decline work to come home to you, or at least make the effort to let you know when he was going to be late. Nowadays, it just felt as if you were the bottom rung of the ladder, completely forgotten about by him.

“I don’t come home expecting miracles Namjoon, but when it feels like I’m constantly the only one willing to make the effort then you have to appreciate how hard this is for me. I don’t know what has brought this sudden change in you, but it’s something that I’m struggling to deal with.”

His head nodded, trying to understand where you were coming from. “I’ve made plenty of effort for you Y/N, it’s unfair of you to imply that I don’t sacrifice anything.”

“When? When was the last time you sacrificed something, big or small, for me Namjoon?”

His mouth parted to speak, but quickly closed again as the realisation hit him that he couldn’t remember. He wasn’t sure if it had been days, weeks, or perhaps even months since he last really made the effort to be there for you and your relationship.

“I’m not going to keep myself through the constant disappointment I am right now.”

Instantly, his eyes looked across the table to you, “so what are you saying? Is this a mystic way of saying you want for us to go our separate ways?”

“That’s not what I’m saying right now Namjoon, but I’m not going to let myself live like this if it’s the only direction my life is going to go in for the future.”

With a gentle sigh, his arm extended out across the table, “I can’t stand the thought of losing you, don’t make me live through it, please.”

“Then stop trying to lose me,” you slightly harshly responded, keeping your hands in your lap, “I just want things to go back to how they used to be a little more.”

Sensing that you weren’t quite ready for affection once again, Namjoon reluctantly moved his hand back across the table and into his lap. His head still continued to nod, making sure that you knew he understood everything that he was trying to say.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, bringing his eyes across the table to look at you, ensuring that you could see his sincerity. “I wish I could try and argue that the way you’re feeling is wrong, but it’s not, because everything that you’ve said is true.”

You knew that Namjoon was busy, you knew how hard he worked too, but the last thing you wanted to be was an obstacle in his way. “If you don’t want to be around me, or come home to me, I’d rather that you just said so Namjoon.”

“What?” He questioned, staring across at you in disbelief, “do you really think that’s how I could ever feel about you?”

“I’ve certainly had a few doubts,” you admitted.

“Please don’t ever doubt how much I want to be with you,” he quickly requested, shaking his head at himself and his behaviour. “I got used to having you here and stopped making the effort. I should never stop making the effort for us, I realise that now.”

The regret was clear in his voice, you knew Namjoon could never truly set out to hurt you. It was the kindness within him that made you fall for him in the first place, however hurt you were, you could never look past that.

“I don’t want you to feel as if you’re forced to put the effort in or obliged to me with me, because you’re not Namjoon. Just like you might not have had the time for me recently, I can’t keep putting myself through the emotions that I’ve felt night after night in the hope that one day something might finally end up changing.”

“Something will change,” he assured you, “I don’t want to leave you feeling disappointed or let down by me any longer. I’ve never felt obliged to be with you, I’m with you because you make me happy, even if I might have had a bit of a stupid way of showing it to you lately, I do really need you in my life Y/N.”

“And I want to be in your life too,” you whispered.

Once again, Namjoon’s arm extended out across the table, this time with yours doing the same, allowing your hands to intertwine in with one another. “I can’t say sorry enough for the way I’ve made you feel, all I can ask is that you’ll trust in me to make a change and be a better boyfriend for you too.”

“Of course, I trust in you,” you responded, “but that still doesn’t mean that I’m going to settle and continue as we are.”ou’ve

“I promise that we won’t, whatever it takes, I’ll make sure that I don’t lose you, and that most importantly, I make you happy.”

Your head slowly nodded, “I’m sorry if I made you think that I was walking away.”

“No, it’s what I deserved, I’m just glad you chose to stay.”

---

Masterlist

[spacexcowgirl]

All About The Chase - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N will do anything for her best friend—and crush—Fred Weasley. Even if that means fake dating him so he can catch the eye of her cousin.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Light swearing, one allusion to sex (blink and you’ll miss it), brief mention of intoxication (again, blink and you’ll miss it), super mean awful cousin, food, a little angsty with a happy ending, 

A/N: For the anon who asked for Fred fake dating his friend to make her relative jealous! I decided to make her the twins age, and I may have went a little overboard with the cousin rivalry, but oh well. Thank you for feeding into my love of cliches! Also, I played around with using third person rather than second, it just felt right for this one. Pictures are from Pinterest.

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When Y/N was six years old, her parents��well, Santa—got her the most amazing art set. She had always liked to draw, and now she had an array of more colors than she could even really name. When her family was set to head to her Aunt’s house for Christmas dinner, she packed up all of her new markers, a stack of fresh paper, and a few of her drawings she was most proud of to show off.

The night had started wonderfully. She got a few more gifts from her grandparents, a beautiful doll from her aunt and uncle, and enough sweets and candy to last her months. When it was time to finally eat, Y/N left all of her new toys and her cherished art set in her relatives’ living room. Y/N doesn’t remember much about the dinner—why should she? It was a decade prior—but what she does remember vividly is the excitement that bubbled up in her tiny body when her mother suggested she go grab some of her artwork to show off.

Y/N slid out of her chair and raced into the living room. Only when she got there did she find all of her finished art completely destroyed, covered in scribbles from her new markers. Her brows had furrowed and her eyes welled with tears, and that’s when she heard it. The sinister little cackle of her cousin, Annalise. Y/N turned on her heels and saw the girl, uncapped marker in hand, looking at her as if she was the most pitiful thing in the world.

Y/N returned to dinner empty handed, claiming she had forgotten the drawings at home—even though her parents were certain she hadn’t. Annalise returned with an innocent smile and a portrait of their Nan in hand—one Y/N was certain she just made with her markers—and all of the adults cooed and awed at the small girl’s talent.

A few years later, Y/N was set to star in their primary school’s theater production. Looking back, she now recognized that her landing that part had little to do with any real talents she had, and more to do with how adults always seemed to fawn over her. She was always revered as ‘just the cutest little thing!’ Which evidently preceded talent at the ripe age of eight.

Right before she was set to go on stage and deliver her three lines (that’s all a star can really handle so young, right?), she found her angel wings shredded and her halo headband bent in half. The teacher didn’t have any time to fix her costume, so in a fluster she threw out her part all together, and sent Y/N to stand with the rest of the year 3 ensemble. It didn’t take long for Y/N to catch Annalise’s eye amongst the other students, only she was smirking. Y/N had to force her eyes back out onto the crowd and desperately search for her parents to keep herself from bawling on the spot.

As if things couldn’t get any worse between the pair of cousins, when Y/N was ten, her and her parents were astonished to find a letter tucked into their usual mail, accepting her into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The letter gave an answer to the many strange things Y/N had been able to make happen with her emotions alone, and her chest swelled with pride to learn just how special she truly was. Not to mention, this was finally her opportunity to escape Annalise once and for all.

Until, it wasn’t. Y/N didn’t know that Annalise was a witch as well until the two families spotted each other on the platform, preparing to send both of their daughters off. Neither parents had revealed the truths of their daughters abilities to the other prior, because they knew it must be kept with the upmost secrecy. Y/N’s parents and Annalise’s parents were overjoyed to know their little girls wouldn’t be all alone, and they had someone to share their apprehensions with. Y/N and Annalise were far less enthused by the news.

A little over five years later, Y/N sat in the Gryffindor Common room, rifling through beginning of the year work that had already been assigned. In the half-decade since she’d started at Hogwarts, she had managed to avoid Annalise as best she could. It turned out to be somewhat easy, seeing as they were sorted into different house. Still, whenever Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were forced into classes together, Y/N couldn’t help but feel dread pooling in her stomach. Annalise was always sure to make those classes a living hell for her.

Y/N’s attention was pulled from her work from the sound of a small group of people bounding into the common room. She glanced back over the couch, only to see her best friends—Fred and George—laughing and pushing each other around.

“She totally wants me!” Fred argued, a cocky grin alit on his face.

“Oh, please, she hates your guts, mate.” George teased back.

Fred looked as if he were about to respond, until his eyes met Y/N’s across the room. A more genuine smile found its way onto his face as he tugged his brother towards the couch, then plopped down next to her. George then took a seat in one of the chairs across from them. Y/N neatly gathered her work into a pile, knowing for certain there was no way she would make any progress with them around.

“Y/N, will you please tell my dear brother that your cousin is absolutely mad for me, she just has a different way of showing it?” Fred threw his arm lazily around the back of the couch, right behind her, as he looked at her expectantly.

Y/N couldn’t help the sour mood that the conversation immediately put her in. There was two reasons for this; one, the most obvious, any topic that involved Annalise always brought her down. She couldn’t help it, and she tried not to hate the girl, but everything about her was draining. The second reason was that Y/N was absolutely head over heels for Fred. She had been ever since he pranked Graham Montague for making her cry in third year. The idea of Fred and Annalise together was truly the epitome of her worst nightmare.

“I don’t know, she might really just hate you.” Y/N shrugged, doing her best to keep her voice even and her face straight. Her words caused Fred to scowl and George to erupt into fits of laughter.

“Oh come on, not you too!” Fred whined as he threw his head back. 

“What do you even see in her anyways?” Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to the question, but she couldn’t help but ask it. 

“Well, she’s quite fit.” This answer earned a swift slap to the arm from Y/N, which only made Fred snicker. “And!” He continued, persistent to point out that looks weren’t all he cared about. “She’s feisty, and smart. And, she acts completely not interested in me.”

“So that’s why you like her?” Y/N snorted.

“Ah, dearest Y/N, one day you’ll learn that it’s all about the chase.” Fred began to twiddle some of her hair between his fingers.

“There’s plenty of girls who aren’t interested in you! You could ‘chase’ any of them.” Y/N reasoned, batting his hand away.

“You’ve got that right.” George snorted, causing his brother to shoot him a glare.

“Well, even if that were true, I’ve got my sights set on her.” Fred shrugged.

“Well, if you really want Annalise to go out with you, you should just date me.” Y/N teased as she sat forward, beginning to pluck through her papers once again. When no one laughed or responded, she quickly shot her eyes up. “I’m only kidding.”

“No, no that could work.” Fred sat up abruptly and pointed a finger towards her. “Y/N, you’re a genius!”

“I’m really not.” Y/N shook her head quickly. “That might breach the list of dumbest things I’ve ever said.”

“Yeah, right, don’t forget we’ve been around you drunk, Y/L/N. That doesn’t even make the top ten.” George grinned at her, but her nerves kept her from even smiling at his little joke.

Y/N was growing desperate now, because neither of the twins were brushing off her silly joke. Fred was looking at her as if she just handed him the key to solve all of his problems, and George was doing nothing to tame his brother. Y/N glanced expectantly between the two of them as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Come on, what better way to make her jealous than to see me dating her cousin?”

Y/N had mentioned on occasion the way that Annalise always had to ruin everything for her as a child, but never in full detail. Some part of her knew if she had just been transparent about how truly awful the girl had treated her, Fred would never give Annalise a second glance. But now, he thought they were nothing more than cousins with a small childhood rivalry, and for that he could justify going after her.

“Please, Y/N,” Fred got down on his knees in front of her, dawning his best puppy dog eyes, and put his hands in a pleading gesture. “Be my fake girlfriend for a month—two, tops.”

Y/N chewed harder on her bottom lip as she gazed at him, already feeling her reluctance slipping away. She could never say no to him, especially when he looked so adorable. Y/n breathed out a sigh and dropped her head to look at her folded hands in her lap. All thoughts of self preservation and protecting her heart went out the door; she knew she would say yes to him.

“Fine.” Her voice was quiet, so much so that it took Fred a second to make sure he had heard her properly. 

“Really? Just like that? I was about to start bribing you with sugar quills and a month of Herbology homework—”

“Well, if you’re offering—”

“Nope, too late. You agreed before I had to.” Fred grinned at the girl before swooping in and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Now, let’s set up some ground rules.”

Fred began to drone on about what they would and wouldn’t do. Things like holding hands in the corridors, sitting close at meals, kisses on the cheeks and forehead. Which pet names they would and wouldn’t use. Number one, though, was no kissing on the lips. 

Y/N only listened halfheartedly as Fred rambled on, offering a slight head nod ever now and then to show she was in agreement. As Y/N thought over just what she had gotten herself into, she realized the next few weeks were going to be awful.

-

It didn’t take long for rumors of Fred and Y/N’s budding romance to swirl. She often found herself walking hand in hand with him through the corridors, light whispers trailing behind them. Often times, people she had hardly ever spoken to would come up to her and gush about how they always just knew Fred and her would be perfect together. Y/N would always politely smile, then wonder if they could hear her heartbreaking as loudly as she could.

To make matters worse, Fred was the perfect ‘boyfriend.’ Just as she always assumed he would be. He’d carry her books in one arm, swing their intertwined hands with the other, and walk her to each of her classes. At night, he’d sit with her in the library while she poured over her notes for the day—even though she knew he wanted nothing more than to be out pranking with George and Lee. She adored all of the extra time they were getting to spend together, until she’d remember that it was only temporary, and if he were lucky, he’d be doing all of these things with Annalise in a month.

It wasn’t until about three weeks into their agreement that Annalise approached her. Fred had walked her to potions that day, like he always did. He was making her laugh loudly, not caring at all about the many eyes upon them.

“It’s a wonder your mum didn’t ship you and George off when you were toddlers,” Y/n snorted. “It sounds like you two were menaces.”

“Oh, we were.” Fred nodded, a small grin on his face. “But I reckon we were the cutest babies she had so far, so she kept us around.”

Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes before nudging him lightly with her shoulder. They had finally made it to the potions classroom, so it was time for them to part. Fred handed her back her books and dropped her hand, but didn’t walk away until he had placed a soft kiss to her temple.

“Meet you outside of here after to walk to lunch?” He confirmed, but there was no need. It was the routine they had fallen into.

“Mhm.” Y/N gazed up at him, unable to contain the giddy smile on her lips. With that, he turned and began walking down the hallway, but not before shooting her a wink over his shoulder.

Y/N watched his retreating figure, a lovesick grin plastered to her face. Just when she had pulled herself from her daydreams and was about to enter the classroom, she ran hard into a firmly planted body.

“So, you and Weasley are pretty serious then, huh?” Annalise stood with her hands on her hips, a look that read as both disgust and amusement riddled on her face.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Y/N quickly recovered, hugging her books closer to her chest. This year, she had more classes with Annalise than any year prior, seeing as they both received a significant amount of O.W.L.s.

“Hm.” Annalise’s eyes trailed down the hallway where Fred had once been, before letting them snap back to Y/N. “Don’t know how you managed that.”

Y/N felt her blood run cold, but couldn’t find the energy within her to talk any further. So, she simply brushed past Annalise and into the classroom, ignoring the scoff that left Annalise’s lips when she pushed her out of the way. Y/N found her usual seat in the back and trained her eyes ahead, careful to keep her expression calm. That was, until Annalise slid into the seat next to her.

“What are you doing?” Y/N gaped at her. It wasn’t like they had assigned seats, but Y/N had always sat next to Patricia Stimpson. The girl was constantly fussing and nervous, always afraid to make a wrong move, but she certainly wasn’t the worst person Y/N could be stuck with.

“Asked Stimpson to trade seats.” Annalise shrugged nonchalantly, before a wicked grin grew on her face. “Figured we could get some good, cousin, bonding time.”

Y/N wanted to groan, but then Snape was gliding into the room and silencing everyone. She was certain this would be the longest lecture of her life.

-

When the class ended, Y/N didn’t wait for Fred outside. Instead, she had pushed up from her seat and hurried through the corridors, skipping lunch entirely to go wallow in her dorm room. Annalise had made the lecture a living hell, whether it be from snide comments she’d whisper over or by purposefully ruining their potion, then blaming it on Y/N. Internally, she cursed Fred—although it wasn’t really his fault—for putting her in the position to be in Annalise’s line of fire once again.

Y/N ended up avoiding Fred the rest of the day, scurrying between classes before he could find her. When she was finally done for the day, she wanted nothing more than to hide out in her dorm and cry. That’s exactly what she had started doing, too, before her door creeped open.

Y/N held her breath, assuming it was either Angelina or Alicia coming back before dinner. But, when her mattress dipped slightly from the weight of someone sitting down, she quickly spun around, coming face to face with Fred.

“Darling,” He cooed. It was a nickname he had taken to calling her ever since they started ‘dating,’ although no one was around now, and he was still using it. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

“How’d you get in here?” Y/N croaked, avoiding his question entirely.

“Figured out how to get past the charm ages ago.” Fred rested a gentle hand on her knee. “Then, Ang gave me her key. Said she saw you run up her. So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? And why’ve you been avoiding me all day?”

At that, Y/N lost it once again. Tears began streaming down her face freely, and she quickly sat up and accepted Fred’s opened arms. He raked his fingers through her messy hair and let her cry on his shoulder, gently soothing her to a place where she’d be able to speak.

“It’s just…” It was on the tip of her tongue. Y/N wanted desperately to tell him the truth about how awful Annalise truly was. But, just like when she was younger and never ratted Annalise out, she just couldn’t now. She didn’t know why it was, but it always felt like if she spoke the words out loud, then Annalise had won. “I’ve just had an awful day.”

“Snape will do that to you.” Fred tutted, clearly assuming her change in behavior post-potions was brought on by the professor. “I’m sorry, love.”

Y/N sniffled a few more times into his shoulder, wishing desperately that he was holding her in a way that wasn’t platonic. She craved nothing more than for him to want her like she’d always wanted him. But that seemed to be just a fantasy. The muggle fairytales she had been told growing up weren’t real, and the wicked witch was winning.

“Why don’t we go for a walk, get some fresh air?” Fred pulled back to look over her face, concern filled in his eyes. 

“But, you’re missing dinner…” 

“Eh, the house elves love me. I’ll just sneak down to the kitchens and grab something later.” Fred shrugged, a small smile now growing on his face. “You and me, we can make a whole night of it. I’ll sneak some snacks up and we can watch one of those old muggle movies you love so much.”

While Y/N was far from being completely okay, the tenderness he was exhibiting towards her made her heart swell. She knew he had plans with George and Lee that night, some big prank on a few Slytherins, but here he was, throwing it all away for her. He gently reached out and cupped her cheek, brushing a few stray tears away with his thumb. Y/N avoided his eyes, afraid that they would communicate all of the non-platonic love she felt for him, then nodded.

“Perfect.” Fred grinned before jumping up and extended his hand out to her. “Well, let’s go.”

Fred guided her the whole way out of the castle, keeping her close as they walked through the grounds. The autumn air was cool, and at the very second that Y/N shivered, Fred was wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. 

They walked around and talked for a little over an hour, giddy smiles on their faces all the while. Fred made her laugh so hard she abandoned all thoughts of Annalise, her mind completely filled with the tall red head beside her. He just had this way about him that could make anything that was possibly wrong seem miniscule. He reminded her of everything good in the world.

Once the sun was fully down and the temperature had dropped significantly, the two could no longer justify being outside in the cold. Fred made a show of wrapping her hands in his own, rubbing them together to bring her some warmth, before guiding her back to the castle.

They parted ways shortly, just so Fred could sneak into the kitchens and Y/N could get the movie set up in the common room. She laid out a few blankets and pillows then pushed the couch back a bit, thankful that it was a Wednesday night and most students seemed to have already gone to bed. When Fred returned, he handed Y/N a plate of food then sat down cross-legged beside her, balancing his own plate in his lap.

Y/N started the movie and dug into her food, giggling lightly at Fred’s ravenous way of eating. He had certainly been hungry earlier, but she needed him, so evidently he pushed his hunger aside. When their plates were finished, they stacked them neatly on the table behind them, before completely turning their attention to the movie.

“Okay, wait, who’s the green girl again?” Fred questioned as he pointed towards the screen, brows furrowed.

“If you would pay attention, you would know.” Y/N giggled. “She’s the Wicked Witch of The West.”

“She’s supposed to be a witch?” Fred crinkled up his nose, confusion clear on his face. “I don’t know any green witches.”

“It’s a muggle movie, Fred.” Y/N lightly rolled her eyes.

“And who’s she?”

“Glinda, the good witch.”

“Okay, I definitely know witches don’t dress like that.” Fred teased, eyeing the woman on the screen’s frilly pink dress

“Maybe I should start.” Y/N giggled, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Think I could pull it off?”

“Darling, you’d look beautiful in anything.” Fred winked at her, causing her face to heat up. Some part of her knew it was nothing more than harmless joking, but she couldn’t help the way he lit something alive within her. 

“Ya think?” Y/N scooted a bit closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder so he couldn’t see her giddy smile.

“I know.” His voice was soft, and the two of them remained quiet for the next few scenes of the movie.

At some point, the two of them had shifted to lay down in order to get more comfortable on the floor. Fred was laying on his back with one hand behind his head, the other resting idly in between them. Y/N was sprawled out on her stomach, her face down by his feet. Every little bit her eyes would light up and she’d glance back to tell him that her favorite part was coming up, only for him to realize that every part seemed to be her favorite part. Still, he never pointed that out, but instead just smiled fondly at her and nodded.

“Ugh.” Y/N grimaced, a slight shiver running down her spine. “Those monkeys always terrified me when I was little.”

“Oh yeah?” Fred sat up now, leaning closer to her. “You scared now?”

“Psh, no.” Y/N rolled her eyes and glanced back over at him, only to find him slowly inching towards her. She pointed a finger out warningly. “Fred, don’t.”

It was no use, Fred’s hands latched themselves to her sides and began tickling her feverishly. Y/N squealed and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. In the process, she had flipped over onto her back and was now kicking her legs out, trying to get him to stop, but that only egged him on further.

“You sure you’re not scared, Y/L/N?” Fred teased. “I could comfort you, if you were.”

“Freddie! Stop!” Y/N breathed out, tears beginning to pool in her eyes from her laughter.

Y/N now had the front of his jumper balled in her fists, trying desperately to get him to stop. After another minute, he did, and her wriggling ceased. Still, he loomed over top of her while she gripped onto his jumper tightly. Both of them were silent as they stared into each other’s eyes, faces only inches apart. For half a second, Y/N swore she saw Fred’s eyes flicker down to her lips, but then she convinced herself she must have dreamed it.

The sounds of the movie seemed to draw them back to the present, and Y/N let go of Fred’s jumper, causing him to sit up. She followed suit, clearing her throat in hopes of easing the tension between them. Fred was never one to let any awkwardness linger, so he nudged her with his elbow before laying back down in the spot he had been before.

“Cuddle up, Y/N. I’ll keep you safe from the big scary winged monkeys.” He winked as he opened his arms for her.

Y/N rolled her eyes lightly, trying desperately to calm the nerves in her stomach, before obliging and cuddling into his side. She let her head rest on his chest, her hand placed just over his heart, as he tightened his arm around her. Y/N found that she couldn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie, what with Fred pulling a blanket up around them and gently stroking her hair. She was lulled to sleep by the action, finding that she wished every night, she could fall asleep in his arms.

The two were startled awake the next morning by a bout of loud laughter. As Y/N quickly sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she spotted George, fully dressed in his school uniform, gazing down at them with an amused grin. Fred groaned from where he still laid on the floor, pulling a pillow over his face to block out the light.

“And what’s this?” George cocked his head to the side. “You guys are really taking this ‘fake dating’ thing pretty seriously. Honestly, you’ve got me convinced.”

Fred shot up quickly at that, nervously looking around the common room to make sure no one heard. When he realized it was only the three of them, he let out a breath of relief.

“Come off it, will you? We just fell asleep after watching a movie.” Fred shot his brother a glare.

Y/N felt sick at the reminder that everything between them was fake. Every little moment she had foolishly convinced herself could mean something more was nothing but wishful thinking. Drawing in a deep sigh, Y/N forced herself up and gestured for Fred to move with a flick of her wand. Once he obliged, she flicked her wand again and gathered all of the blankets and pillows before pushing the couch back. Without another word, she stalked back up the steps to her dorm, and prepared herself for another long day.

-

When Y/N arrived to the potions classroom, her stomach dropped at the sight of Annalise once again in the seat next to her usual one. She gazed around the room, grumbling slightly when she realized she had no other choice but to sit next to the girl. 

“Wow, you look like hell.” Annalise sneered when she trudged over.

“Probably because I was up all night with Fred.” Y/N shot back, before truly registering her words. “Not… Not like that.”

Annalise snorted at the insinuation and rolled her eyes. It seemed she was about to say something, no doubt some snide comment, but was cut off by Snape walking into the room. Y/N straightened up and began to listen to the professor drone on, her stomach twisting in knots when she realized what that day’s lecture would entail. A cauldron sat at the front of the classroom, an alluring steam rising off of it. Y/N knew, it was Amortentia.

After giving a brief lecture on it, Snape used his wand to lift the cauldron in the air, slowly letting it stop by each desk for the students to gaze at. He appeared completely uninterested by the kids’ excitement from what they smelled. Finally, it arrived at Y/N and Annalise’s table.

Y/N leaned forward and took a breath in, her nose being filled with the scent of fireworks, chocolate, and the shampoo Fred used. She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, not needing the reminder that she felt so deeply for someone who didn’t return her affections.

Annalise leaned forward and breathed in a deep breath, a dreamy smile gracing her face. Her eyes flickered towards the front of the classroom, finding Snape deep in conversation with another Ravenclaw student. Quickly, she pulled an empty glass bottle from her bag and dipped it into the cauldron, filling it entirely.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N hissed, sitting up abruptly.

“I’m gonna use it as perfume. So everyone smells what they’re attracted to on me, and wants to be around me.” Annalise shrugged, placing a cork on the bottle and sliding it back into her bag. Y/N knew she could get in loads of trouble for carrying such a dangerous and potent potion, yet she didn’t speak up to turn her in. “Professor Snape, we’re all done back here!”

And with that, Snape was whisking the cauldron away and carrying on with his lecture. Y/N watched Annalise out of the corner of her eye, certain she was up to something from the glint in her eye. Still, like always, she stayed silent.

-

A week later, all thoughts of Annalise’s odd behavior had completely left Y/N’s mind. She was so caught up in falling for Fred even more each day, she could hardly focus on anything else. The fact that he hadn’t brought up Annalise once since their movie night didn’t go unnoticed to her, and she found herself chasing the familiar hope that maybe he was starting to fall for her too.

“I’ve gotta catch up with Georgie and Lee—they’re still mad I ditched them last week.” Fred informed her as he finished his dinner. “Catch you later?”

She nodded, a bright smile lighting up her face when he swooped down and kissed her cheek before hurrying off. Y/N was so in a daze that she didn’t even notice someone slide in the seat beside her, occupying the space Fred was once in.

“Ah, so you two are still together, are you?” Annalise spoke up, making her presence known. She wore a devilish grin as she feigned a casual act, picking at her nails.

“Obviously.” Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“What a shame, I just hate to be the one to tell you this.” She sighed.

“Tell me what?” Y/N’s brows furrowed as she turned to look at Annalise full on.

“Well, I’ve been wearing my perfume, you see.” She craned her neck and circled her hand, gesturing for Y/N to lean in and take a whiff. The smell was undeniable, and as much as she hated being in the presence of her cousin, it kept her reeled in. “Smell Freddie, do you?”

“Why do you care?” Y/N gritted her teeth, hating the way his nickname sounded coming from her mouth.

“Because, he doesn’t smell you.” Annalise shrugged. “In fact, what was it he told me he smelled? Right, fresh ink, my peach shampoo, and… Oh, I can’t remember. It was so hard to pay attention while he was snogging me in that broom closet.”

Y/N instantly dropped the utensils in her hand, ignoring the way they clattered to the ground. The sound drew a few eyes towards them, and Annalise simply smirked at her cousin. Y/N could feel tears welling behind her eyes, but she was also angry. At Fred, for not just telling her that he had finally gotten what he wanted. And at Annalise, for always being so dead set on ruining everything for her.

“What did I ever do to you?” Y/N heard her voice crack, and she felt just as pathetic as Annalise wanted her to feel. When she spoke again, her tone increased significantly. “Why must you always ruin everything for me?”

Some part of her knew she shouldn’t be freaking out, because this had always been the plan. She knew Annalise could never let anything be hers, so she should simply take it in stride and move on. But she couldn’t. She had been so sure that Fred and her were starting to build something real, that she’d finally be with the boy she’d crushed on for years, and now all of that hope was shattered.

“I’m just being a good cousin.” Annalise slapped a hand to her chest, feigning some sort of dignity that she certainly didn’t have. “Really, he was bound to cheat on you at some point. I just made it happen sooner rather than later. You should be thanking me.”

Y/N reached for her wand and gripped it tightly in her fist, ready to point it at her and fire off whatever hex came to mind. In an instant, fear was in Annalise’s eyes and she was cowering back. Professor McGonagall was now rushing forward, shouting her surname and ordering her to stop. In response, Y/N lowered her wand and wiped at her eyes, forcing none of her tears to fall.

“You know what, you’re not even worth it.”

And with that, she was marching out of the Great Hall, ignoring any calls of her name.

-

When Y/N made it back to the common room, she found George, Lee, and Fred gathered around a small table in the corner. A few other students were littered throughout the room, as well. Y/N almost just stormed right up to her dorm, intent on never speaking to Fred again, but she was sick of always letting people treat her like rubbish. So, right as she made it to the base of the steps, she turned on her heels and marched to their table, causing all of their eyes to fall on her.

“Hello, love—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Fred. “Godric, I know I agreed to help the two of you get together, but cheating on me? Leaving me embarrassed in front of the whole school? What is wrong with you?”

Lee and George glanced at each other with wide eyes before signally towards their steps and quietly sneaking away. This left Fred in open-mouthed shock, gaping at Y/N in all of her fury.

“I don’t know what—”

“And don’t even tell me how it wasn’t really cheating, because we weren’t really together, I know. But the rest of the school doesn’t know that! Annalise doesn’t know that! And now you’ve fed directly into her only wish of making my life utterly horrible.” Y/N fumed, although her hands were shaking slightly. “So, congrats Fred. You finally got the girl. And Annalise got what she wanted, too. Looks like you two are perfect for each other.”

After saying her piece, she quickly turned around and began making her way back towards her steps. She ignored the many sets of bewildered eyes on her, too angry and hurt to even care. She was only stopped by the feeling of Fred gripping onto her wrist and spinning her back around to face him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Fred searched her eyes. “I didn’t cheat on you, fake or not.”

“But—” 

“Annalise yanked me into a broom closet earlier, asking me to smell her neck like a bloody lunatic. So, I did, because I’m always enticed by strange offers.” He quipped with a smile, but when Y/N shot him a pointed look, he became serious once again. “Not the time? Right, okay. So, I smelled her, and I asked if she cornered me in there just to tell me she nicked your perfume, and she got all huffy, so I left. I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t even mention it because it was too weird to explain.”

“You…” The words got caught in Y/N’s throat, all of her anger leaving her body. “You smelled my perfume?”

“Yeah, and faintly my mum’s roast, but I didn’t question it.” Fred shrugged. “Why?”

Y/N slowly raised a hand up to her mouth, gazing between where his hand still held her wrist and his eyes. Fred had never been very good at potions, so she knew just saying Annalise was wearing ‘Amortentia’ would explain very little.

“She was wearing a love potion, Fred.” Y/N spoke up, much quieter than before. “You smell what you’re attracted to in it.”

In an instant, Fred’s face was a bright shade of red and he quickly dropped her wrist. His eyes dipped down as he avoided her gaze, and Y/N realized this was the first time she’d ever seen him nervous.

“I…” Fred struggled to find words. “I don’t—I mean, I do… But I didn’t want you to—”

“Ask me what I smell in mine.” Y/N urged, cutting off his rambling. Fred shot his head back up at that, looking at her quizzically. 

“What do you smell in yours?” There was a hopeful glint behind his eyes, though his words were soft.

“Fireworks, chocolate…” Y/N took a step closer to him. “And your shampoo.”

The second that Fred fully registered what her words meant, he was closing the distance between the two of them. Y/N let out a shocked giggle as he wrapped her up in his arms, pressing his lips fully to hers for the first time. Although she had seen fireworks before, and she had smelled them almost every time Fred and George were around, neither compared to what it was like to feel fireworks. Y/N’s arms wound around his neck as she pulled him closer to her, prepared to live in the moment forever if she could.

When they pulled apart, there was nothing left either of them had to say. Fred could apologize for putting her through hell for the past few weeks, and Y/N could apologize for being so harsh, but that didn’t matter to either of them at the moment. All that mattered, was they both finally realized what had always been right in front of them.

-

Very early on in the start of Y/N and Fred’s real relationship, she finally opened up to him about just how awful Annalise really was. His jaw clenched at everything she told him, and he quickly expressed that he never would’ve wanted to be with her had he known. Y/N assured him she didn’t care, because this time, Annalise truly lost.

Although Y/N had been quick to brush off her feud with her cousin, telling Fred it was best to just leave it alone, she couldn’t say she was surprised when she walked into the Great Hall one morning, finding Annalise cowering at her table with neon green hair. It was the exact shade she had used when they were six to ruin Y/N’s drawing. While Fred and George vehemently denied any involvement in the prank, Y/N simply placed a short kiss to Fred’s lips, and quietly thanked him.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair @letsgotothehop​ @wand3ringr0s3 @sarcasticallywitty15​

[tommysparker]

Never Forget You [Chapter 1]

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

A/N: here’s the first official chapter! thank you so much for the support this series as already gotten. chapters will be posted every Saturday! enjoy :)

Warnings: angst. fluffy flashbacks. this isn’t even the worst of it mwhaha. paragraphed italics = flashback

                                            [10 YEARS LATER] 

The sky was as blue as his eyes. Not as dark and cloudy, but gave the same feeling of hope, peacefulness, and comfort. You could picture them vividly in your mind, even the small crinkle at the edges and the kindness they held, a warmness that matched your current aurora.  

The two of you sat in the gardens for what felt like hours, deep in meditation. Your force signatures quickly became entangled with one another, your bond radiating around you, creating almost a shield bubble between the rest of the world and the two who sat inside. 

Obi-Wan was the first to open his eyes, having never been one to sit still for long periods of time. He’s improved since he was a youngling, but still had a long way to go. 

You, on the other hand, looked completely invested in your meditation. Your face was relaxed, although every now and then your eyebrows would furrow as you tried to maintain concentration. It was hard when a certain other was very distracting, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“I can feel you staring,” you said, eyes still closed. Obi-Wan was thankful for that fact because it means you wouldn’t see him blush in embarrassment from getting caught. 

“I can feel you blushing, too.” This time, you opened your eyes and smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t last long.” Anytime the two of you tried to meditate together, it would always end with Obi-Wan getting bored and asking to duel instead. 

He quickly hid his face, pulling the hood of his robe over his head. “I’m not blushing, that’s childish.” 

You giggled, leaning forward to lift the front of his hood. “Obi-Wan, you are the most childish person I know.” 

The young man was about to protest before you hushed, eyes already closed once more as you returned to your deep state of awareness. 

You opened your eyes and sighed, long and deep. 

Standing up from the cold floor of your room, you looked out the window and gazed at the cloudy sky of Gyfill. The air felt chilly from the lack of life-forms in the area. After your first week on the planet, you decided it was a safer idea to seek shelter away from town. Considering your mission was to spy on the local Separatist groups, keeping a low profile was essential. 

Today was different, however. The same cold and dull atmosphere were present, but the future is what held the divergent. For today, was the day you were finally to return home. 

Home. The word itself felt familiar but distant. As a Jedi, you trained to hold little sentimental value. Attachments were forbidden, a path to the dark side. They provoked fear. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. 

Once your bag of belongings was packed, you made your way to the marked location someone from the Jedi council sent earlier that morning. Mentally, you were not prepared to see everyone again. After being isolated for years and having limited contact with any life form outside of business, the many faces from your time at the Temple became slightly blurry. Except for his. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was on his way to the Archives when he bumped into Ahsoka Tano. 

“Oh, Master Kenobi! Perfect, I was about to go look for you.” 

“Ahsoka,” he smiled. “What can I do for you?” 

“Who’s Y/n Y/l/n?” 

Obi-Wan froze. The sound of that name echoed in his mind, paired with memories that he had locked away in the back of his mind. “Well...that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” was all he could manage to say, still trying to process all the past recollections that suddenly surfaced. 

“So, you know them?” 

“Uh, yes I suppose so. We were...close as younglings and trained together as Padawans. They were...the most skilled Jedi I ever had the pleasure of knowing, almost as good as Master Yoda.” 

“If they’re so great, how come I never heard of them before?” Ahsoka tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip in classic ‘Ashoka manner’, 

“They were sent away on an important mission years ago as far as I know. Er, why do you ask? And how did you come to know of that name?” 

“Oh right. Anakin said the Chancellor told him that Master Y/l/n was returning today. He told me to ask you about it.” 

Once again, Obi-Wan’s world paused. 

He stood across from you, trying to maintain a neutral expression as he watched you load your bags onto the ship. However, you knew him better than that. 

You walked up to the young boy and he took in your appearance. Gone was the braid that draped over your shoulder. Gone were the long robes you liked to hide in, in their place was a heavy jacket that looked like it was built to keep out the cold. Perhaps you were going to Hoth? 

“Obi, you know I can’t tell you where I’m going. Master Windu was strict about his instructions,” You sighed, sensing your friend trying to deduce as much as he could. Your Master was very clear when he told you how classified the mission was. No one can know, especially Obi-Wan. 

“Can you at least say how long you’ll be gone?” He practically begged, wanting something, anything he could get to keep his hope alive. Hope that you'll return soon. Hope that you weren’t truly leaving him. 

You looked away, staring at the towers and passing hover-vehicles that littered the planet you’ve grown up on. “I don’t know.” 

Everything had happened so suddenly. You were called into the council room that day to hear the news every Padawan dreams of. When Master Windu said you were ready for the trials, the first thing you went to do was tell Obi-Wan. The two of you celebrated that night in the gardens, a moment you would treasure for the rest of your life. Soon after you gained the title of Jedi Knight, you were once again called into the Jedi Council room to be debriefed on your first mission as a proper Jedi. You didn’t want to mess this up. You couldn’t. 

Obi-Wan resists the urge to pull you into a hug and never let you go, instead opting to hold your shoulders and give you his signature charming smile. “Be safe, darling.” 

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You held his wrist, bringing his knuckles to your lips and pressed a hesitant kiss to them before pushing them to his side. “May the force be with you.” 

There was no pet name at the end, no ‘my friend’ or even his own name. It was a sentence that was meant to bring comfort, but the way you phrased it, the edge in your voice, made Obi-Wan feel everything but comforted. 

He didn’t get the luxury of responding, for all he did was blink and suddenly you were on the ship, taking off into the clear blue sky. 

You gazed at the clouds passing by as the ship flew into Coruscant’s atmosphere. The bright light and sunny day was a harsh change from the grey sky that fell over Gyfill. The energy emitting off of all the life-forms gave you a headache. You felt the Force all around you, swirling in the air and penetrating your soul. It was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for over a decade. 

You flinched at the light as the door opened, suddenly feeling like a hermit crawling out of its shell. Slowly walking out of the ship, you pulled the cloak hood over your head, inhaling the strange but familiar scent of the Jedi Temple. You were still wearing your Gyfill civilian attire, the wool fabric made the Coruscant heat much more intense causing a few beads of sweat to form on your forehead. Or was it just the nerves of seeing all the people you left behind? 

Master Windu stood at the end of the drop door, a smile on his face at the sight of his former Padawan. It was an occasion that called for a little joy, a moment to celebrate outside the war that raged through the galaxy. 

You descended down the ramp, taking in a sharp breath at the feeling of another force sensitive. “Master Windu”. You bowed your head and he did the same to you. 

“Master Y/l/n, it’s great to see you in person rather than as a hologram.” 

You both chuckled lightly. “The feeling is mutual, Master. It’s...it’s good to be back.” Your eyes wandered over the people that roamed about. Jedi Masters walked with their Padawans at their side. Distant memories resonated within you. Some time ago that was once you and your Master, the man who stands before you know who has grown significantly older. Then again, so have I, you thought to yourself. 

Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t the only one registering your growth. Obi-Wan stood behind a pillar, glancing over the hanger in search of a familiar face. He was aware it would not be the same face he knew as a young boy, but he certainly was not prepared for what he saw. 

You look older, which was the obvious and expected observation. He noted how you wrapped yourself in your cloak, similar to how you would in your youth. You stood tall in front of Master Windu, another trait you had kept since your days as a Padawan. He remembered how you would always act mature in the presence of Masters, something he never really understood until becoming a Jedi Knight. The need for approval by the superiors was a constant.

It wasn’t just your appearance that had changed either. He could feel it in the Force. There was a shift in it when you had landed that made an excited yet nervous chill run down his spine. You were stronger and held more control in your signature. 

Before, he remembers being able to feel it from across the Temple. Now, it was barely there. He remembers feeling your bond drift farther as he watched you leave, and how it had dimmed over the years you were gone. He remembers the pain that tortured him every night as he laid awake in bed, trying to reach out across the stars but only being met with the vast emptiness of space. There was something in him that broke the first time he slept without having a tendril of your force signature connected with his. He felt cold, resorting to sleeping in his Master’s quarters in an attempt to ease the loneliness. 

Overall, it would appear that nothing about you had changed, and yet it seemed everything was different. Almost everything. 

His eyes were just as blue as the last time you saw them. They looked tired, haunted by the ongoing war but still filled with determination. Classic Obi-Wan. 

You quickly broke eye contact the moment it was made, but that one second was more than enough for Obi-Wan to get lost in the familiar colour. His favourite colour in fact, not that he would ever admit you had any part in the decision. 

“Master Obi-Wan?” 

He jumped at the sound of a voice and suddenly became aware of the presence right next to him, that presence belonging to none other than Master Yoda. 

“Master Yoda! I er I was just...uh...looking...for Anakin! Yes, uh have you seen him around by any chance?” Obi-Wan quickly tried to cover his stutter, feeling embarrassed about getting caught gazing from afar. Not that Master Yoda would know he was looking at you...right?

“I see,” the little green creature smirked in amusement. “Whatever it is, wait it can. Council meeting about to begin there is.” 

Obi-Wan furrowed his eyes. Typically he was able to keep a good track of the meetings, but this was news to him. “What’s it about?” 

“Master Y/l/n.”  

“Hmm?” You hummed absentmindedly.  

“Are you listening?” Master Windu raised an eyebrow.

“Oh uh, my apologies Master. I’m just...readjusting.” You tried to focus your attention on what Master Windu was saying, but the recognition of his presence made it difficult. For years, you tried to forget about him. You ignored the empty feeling in your stomach at night, the thoughts and memories that plagued your dreams. After some time, they eventually began to fade but never forgotten. It was for the best. 

Master Windu crossed his arms. “There will be plenty of time for that after your debrief of the mission. Master Yoda and the rest of the council await.”

Oh, Force, not the council. 

You would never dare to admit or even show it, but the council and being in the council room had always intimidated you. How could it not? You had to stand in the center of all the best Jedi of that era while they stare at you, judging you, sitting high and mighty in those stupid chairs.  

“This way, my old Padawan.” 

You followed Master Windu through the large halls of the Jedi Temple. You masked the nervousness that was no doubt radiating from your force signature. A multitude of thoughts ran through your mind, good and bad. Worst case scenario, you had done something so wrong that you were about to be kicked out of the Jedi Order. Nothing came to mind when you tried to think of any offence you had committed in the recent weeks since you earned the title of Jedi Knight. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of the large council room doors opening, the creaking of the hinges made you cringe slightly.  

The room was ominously lit, the only light source being the setting sun shining through the glass windowed walls. Master Yoda sat in his seat. All the other chairs were empty. 

Master Windu took his seat as you stood before the two of them. He could see the questions rise from your confused facial expression. “Everything we discuss in this room stays between us, young Jedi.” 

You nodded, inhaling and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm yourself. “Master Windu, Master Yoda. What is this about? Have I done something wrong?” 

The two men looked at each other and shared an unreadable expression before turning back to you. Master Yoda was the first to speak. “Sending you on a mission we are. To Gyfill you will go.” 

Whatever anxieties that you held before were washed away with this information. You contain your excitement, but the sudden mood shift was still noticeable. “Who am I going with? When do we leave? What’s the mission for?” It was rare that a Jedi would be sent on a mission alone, typically you were partnered up for safety measures. Obi-Wan’s face flashed in your mind, and although it was unlikely, a small part of you hoped he would be going with you. 

“This mission only requires one Jedi. There’s a Separaist organization on the planet and we’re sending you to gain intel and report back to us. No one outside of this room can be aware of this information. You leave within the week. Understood?” 

You frowned, “Forgive me Master, but why can’t anyone know?” The idea of having to leave your home seemingly without a trace made you iffy. Obi-Wan once again appeared in your mind. 

Master Windu and Yoda exchanged a look before Windu responded almost hesitantly. “We have reason to believe someone in the Order is a traitor, and the number of people who are trustworthy is very limited.” 

“You mean someone has betrayed us?” You asked in shock. How could anyone do such a thing? And a Jedi nonetheless. 

“Time to answer your questions, there will be, young one. Prepare for your first mission now, you must.” Master Yoda said. “Prepare to say goodbye you should.” 

It was as IF he could read your mind, which he probably could. You dreaded the idea of saying goodbye, especially when it was clear that there was no guarantee of your return date. How would you explain to your friends that you won’t be around anymore? What will Obi-Wan think? 

“That is another subject that needs to be discussed.” 

————————————————————————————

what else needs to be discussed? who’s the traitor? how will obi-wan and y/n get on after all this time? lemme know what you think!!

taglist: @queenariesofnarnia @dwarfplanet69 @katsukink @blondekel77 @generousrunawaydonut @fandomtrashwhore @fortheloveofaqueenfan @mrskenobi19 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @hotleaf-juice

[shadowsinger11]

Insomniacs In Love

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Description: Wrote this ficlet for @wand3ringr0s3 's writing challenge. Congrats on your milestone, Haley!! I'm so proud of ya and ily so much girl💕💕

Warnings: Brief descriptions of war

Tags: @spilled-prose @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads

Message me to be added!

Masterlist

The white ceiling was staring right back at you.

Your tired eyes had no strength to fight back the hot trail of bitter tears rolling down your cheeks and falling on your pillow. The heavy, cold sheets, tangled between your legs, shrivelled even more under you as you struggled to ease your anxious mind into sleep, but every blink would bring images of explosions and unmoving bodies. The intrusive smell of blood and rotting flesh had been ingrained into your brain for years; the earsplitting, violent screams of terror had become nothing more than a background noise.

Adults and children were fighting side by side, desperately holding onto whatever hope for a future they might have had. The fresh summer soil was soaked in blood, old and young; with a burning passion, you prayed to whoever could hear you, that you wouldn't spot the faces of your loved ones in the sea of corpses that stretched out far into the distance.

There was chaos, and in between - grim visions of morning light.

You couldn't fall asleep, not when you could still vividly picture that night as though it had just been yesterday. Years later, the memory didn't fail to turn you into its slave every time you'd close your eyes.

The moon was wide awake. The air seemed to not be enough for you and the buzzing silence had nearly driven you to the point of insanity when you finally jumped out of your bed. The sharp moonlight caused your silhouette to dance as you walked barefoot out of your bedroom.

It was eerily unsettling to be strolling down the hallway of Fred and George's apartment without being bombarded by cheerful laughter and occasional explosions - there was only creaking of wooden stairs as you walked down to the kitchen. You poured yourself a full glass of cold water and immediately downed it entirely, hoping it would shake off the anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

You took a refill for just in case and sat beside the small kitchen table. You let out a deep breath and rested your head in your palms, shoulders heavy as if the carried the world.

A gentle voice nearly caused you to knock over the glass.

"Trouble sleeping?"

You looked up from your lap to see George standing by the doorway, hands in the pockets of his pajamas. His spiky hair and sleepy gaze let you know he had just woken up, but his expression immediately softened when he noticed your tearful eyes.

You smiled as best as you could, "You have no idea."

George approached you and sat beside you. He moved closer to try to take a better look at your distressed face; he didn't miss the stiffness of your body and the puffiness of your bloodshot eyes. The sight sent an electric shock through him and his heart began to ache.

"You're pretty shaken up, darling. What's wrong?" He asked just above a whisper, as though he was afraid he'd scare you away. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and you leaned into his touch, seeking some kind of warmth.

How could you explain to him you were still being haunted by the past? It had been years, why were you still chained by sorrow? You hated yourself for letting it settle in your bones, for not being able to return to the person you once used to be.

George was unharmed and so was his family. You were too. There was no logical reason for you to be thinking about it. Nevertheless, your nightmares were the reason you'd wake up every night in cold sweat, limbs of lead. Yet George didn't know a thing.

"It's nothing to worry about," you assured him despite your stomach twisting at the lie you had just spat out. "Just bad dreams."

"You seem to get a lot of those lately," George stated sympathetically; he could always read you so effortlessly. The sudden vulnerability caused you to shrink further into your chair, a fresh tear rolling down your cheek.

Your friend wiped it away with the pad of his thumb and hummed.

"That's alright. So do I."

"How do you know this about me?" you questioned, more confused rather than embarrassed.

His lips curled up in a tiny, sad smile, "You're not the only one wandering the house at night, sweetheart."

"I didn't know you still dream of… of it," you let out in a moment of realization. You didn't have to say what exactly you were referring to - you shared the same tragic memory.

"Yes, I do," he murmured. "Every night."

Your eyes met his dark brown ones and your heart sank; they were just as tortured as yours, and lacked the spark they once possessed. Never had you believed George would have to feign joy in his lifetime, he was the source of joy to everyone around him. But how could you expect flowers to bloom in a garden that's been burned to the ground?

Silence fell over you. Your eyes burned again.

"You should try to get some sleep," George advised, attempting to mask his hoarse voice, shaking ever so slightly. Your face fell. "I know it might be hard, but you can't risk getting a headache in the morning, you know."

The moon was still shining brightly through the window, illuminating his concerned face and the tears that had already formed in his eyes.

You swallowed hard.

"You're right. But I don't really want to go. It's just…" you sighed. Your hands were trembling. "It feels kinda lonely up there."

George nodded in understanding; there was no judgement in the way he observed you. He himself had spent way too many cold, sleepless nights. Fighting the same demons as you. 

It hurt him beyond measure to know you too were being held hostage by the weight of the past; the past which was robbing you both of your future. But what hurt him more was his inability to help you. He desperately yearned to heal you of your misery and hear your laughter, the laughter that had made him fall for you long before he even knew what love was.

The redhead was suddenly struck by an idea and his shoulders relaxed, a small smile causing his dimple to appear.

"I can go to bed with you, if that's okay with you, of course. Only until you fall asleep, that is. Then I'll go back to my room."

Your instinctive reaction was to refuse, but you stopped yourself before you could respond. Surely it wouldn't be so bad to have company, would it? It didn't seem like George was only doing it out of pity either; he genuinely cared about you and had your best interest in mind.

"You can say no, it's fine," said George when he didn't receive a reply. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay with me, I promise," you mirrored his smile. "Shall we go?"

You rose to your feet and headed towards your bedroom upstairs, George following closely behind. He couldn't recall a previous time when he had been in there, and he was pleasantly surprised to see how you had changed the design to your liking after you had moved in to live with the twins. The room looked cozy and truly felt like... you.

You were the first to climb into the bed and scooted over to make room for George's long legs. The mattress sank under his weight and he pulled the covers over the two of you, making sure he didn't take too much of them. George then rolled over to the opposite side, not wishing to invade your personal space.

Despite being taken aback by his action, you did the same - if that was the closest you'd get to being together with him, so be it.

You pulled the blanket over your shoulder and closed your eyes, but alas, your lungs constricted with anxiety. The intrusive silence let your mind wander back to memories you had been trying so hard to push away. The empty space behind your back was cold.

Less than an hour later, you were still as awake as you could be. Your friend was a quiet sleeper and thus you had no idea if he was asleep yet or if he was about to drift off. Nevertheless, you still felt guilty for whispering.

"Georgie?"

Rustling in the bedsheets.

"Hm?"

You wettened your lips and timidly asked, "Can I hold your hand?... For just a bit?"

George turned around and you expected to see him scowl for being woken up like that, especially for a thing as silly as your request. But you were met with such a fond expression, immense care swimming in his eyes.

Any sleepiness was nonexistent on his features; he couldn't fall asleep either.

"Of course," he smiled and lifted your hand to press a tender kiss to your wrist. His soft lips stayed there, pulse racing madly underneath, and the warmth lingered on the skin long after George pulled away and placed your hand on his chest. You let out a quiet gasp when you felt his own heart hammering against his ribs.

His other hand slid down to your waist and pulled you closer. You buried your face in his neck.

You could finally breathe.

He began tracing lazy patterns on your lower back. "Better?"

"Better."

George's fingers lightly grazed your skin, slow and gentle touch never once stopping its loving path. Drowsiness welcomed you much sooner than you had expected and your eyes fluttered closed. The last thing you remembered was George's lips on your eyelids.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep your demons at bay at least for just one night. George gave into slumber as well, both of you engulfed by divine serenity until the bright moon hid behind the horizon.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[ssscentral]

One More Time

Summary: Your touch was addictive, your scent intoxicating. He wants that back so badly, but he needs another chance. Just one more time.

pairing: Seokjin x female reader

rating: GA

genre: angst, mild fluff

warnings: pining, heartbreak, only mentions of sex, but everything very sfw

wc: 3k

member: Rid || @taegularities​

a/n: Hello! Back with the second fic in the Bouquet Collab series. Each one of us chose a flower and wrote a fanfic around the meaning of it! These were just 2 out of 6, so please look forward to many more awesome stories! I also want to thank my amazing betas @biaswreckme and @missgeniality, and further @birbdae for this wonderful banner!!!! 💕 And now let’s dive into the angst!

A single ray of sunshine illuminates the room.

Conveniently, it shines directly onto that one particular plant that stands in this whole apartment, still healthy and green as it refuses to die. Seokjin is fond of it, given the fact that it was you who had gifted him it many weeks ago.

You always used to say that his place is gloomy, grey, in urgent need of redecoration, so he could actually invite someone over and make them feel somewhat homely. After he’d declined all your offers due to laziness, you’d given up - except for the little present that you’d brought him that one significant day.

He remembers it so vividly, the memory still so painfully clear.

At that time, spring was just approaching, birds returning and beautiful flowers blooming. You were a sucker for nature and all its aspects - which was probably the exact reason for the distaste that you felt whenever you entered your friend’s apartment. His way of handling his place was dull, tasteless.

So, when you decided to surprise him with the odd choice of giving him an aloe plant as decoration and present, you weren’t expecting more than a pleasant evening that you’d spend together.

What you didn’t know was that he’d been a nervous wreck for days now, ripping out several strands of his hair before he’d finally decided to tell you the truth about what he caged in his mind. But when he saw you that day, wearing this beautiful sunflower dress, your hair in a bun with only two strands framing your angelic face, words failed him immediately.

Instead, he froze, eyebrows furrowing in fear of what you’d say or do if he confessed to you. And it didn’t take a lot from your side, no - one brush of your finger along his arm, an intense and loving gaze addressing only him, and a beautiful, mesmerizing smile were enough for him to snap before he pulled you in.

When you first felt his full lips on yours, you stared at the way his eyes closed, relishing in and welcoming the moment right away. You needed a second to comprehend what was happening, but once you understood, you felt yourself give in fast, the world becoming blurred and silent.

All you heard were the sweet words he uttered, all you saw was his glistening skin, and all you knew was that you wanted to bathe in this euphoria forever without ever having to let go.

But when you both found yourselves in each other’s arms, covered by nothing but his blanket, you still hadn’t addressed why this had happened and what it meant for you now.

Seokjin didn’t regret this - how could he, if it was with you? But the same old insecurity that plagued his heart and made his chest burn had eventually come back now. Despite having no real evidence or reason, he assumed that you didn’t want what he wanted - you’d never see him as more than a friend that you’d slept with in the heat of the moment.

In that sense, you’d woken up to a pressing awkwardness, him offering breakfast and coffee, but portraying distant nonchalance otherwise. And when you felt like none of this was going to go anywhere, you told him you had to go, finding some kind of excuse to leave.

Since then, an uncomfortable radio silence had found its way between you, and the only thing he had these days to remember you was the pink-orange flower that slowly bloomed on top of his desk.

Lying across the bed, Seokjin opens his eyes with a smile on his face, remembering how he’d looked at you in confusion when he’d first seen you standing at the threshold of his entry, smiling wide with Ally in your hands. Yes, you’d named the plant Ally - always one to give non-living things names.

Wrong.

Ally is very much alive. You’d made that clear that day. Plants take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen - yes, that’s what you’d lectured him with when he’d joked around. His apartment needs some freshness, you’d told him.

Now that he’s inhaling the air around him, it almost feels like he can smell Ally, which is total nonsense of course. He has honestly grown to love this small, spiky thing, especially after finding out the meaning behind it.

Affection.

Something he has felt for a long time now. Affection for the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re annoyed. Affection for the concentrated gaze you adopt when you’re reading a good book. Affection for your words, for the sound of your voice; he loves the sweet, honey-coated, soft tone that he swims in every time you speak.

Seokjin gets up, stretching his limbs and getting dressed when he looks at the clock, noticing that it’s time to go. There’s this boring gathering this evening, organized by some of your colleagues who thought it might be a good idea to come together and strengthen your bond as a student body or whatever.

The only reason he’s going is because he knows you’ll be there. He doesn’t care about getting himself drunk or talking about philosophical theories today - all he wants is to make right what he ruined back then. He just needs to tell you what words float inside his heart, hoping for you to reciprocate his feelings the way you’d responded to his kiss that night.

Gathering all this ardor for you, with only your name on his tongue, he closes his door behind him, summoning all the energy his body can deliver.

You’re easy to find in the small crowd. The room isn’t too filled, the atmosphere peaceful and pleasant when he steps in, running his hand through his soft, brown hair when he sees you. Breathing in and out in a steady rhythm, he approaches you, trying to mask his eagerness, hands pocketed to exude a relaxed demeanor.

When you finally notice the tall figure come closer, recognizing him as none other than the man you’re so in love with, your heart beats just a little faster and you tilt your head in wonder. After barely sparing you a glance in your classes, he has apparently finally decided to give you some attention.

Memories come crashing back; images of your last encounter flooding your mind as you press your tinted lips together, still feeling the phantom touch of his mouth on yours. He still looks the same, but his hair has gotten a little longer, almost covering his eyes entirely before he brushes the bangs away.

“Hey,” he greets, breathing in deep as he sits down in front of you, “long time no talk.”

You nearly counter with a sarcastic remark, but then contain yourself, only shooting him a breathtaking smile. “You’re right. Busy lives. How have you been doing, Jin?”

“Good!” he answers way too fast, clearing his voice before he continues. “I’m doing good. And you?”

“All good. Been writing some more lately.”

Seokjin nods as his eyes widen and his mouth forms an ‘O’, glad to hear that you’ve picked up your hobby of creating beautiful poetry again. He’s even read some of your poems, and you’re truly talented, working around words so easily as if they were his own heart.

“Oh, wow! I- um… I took care of Ally. Do you remember her?” he stumbles over his words, ears growing increasingly red. He’s such a dork and you can’t help but smile a little.

“That’s nice to hear. I bought one of these myself a few days ago. Reminded me of you.”

“That’s great! T-that’s…” What is he trying to say? There must be something that he had prepared, but for the life of his, he can’t remember anymore. All he knows at the sight of you is that he wants to grab you by your waist again, pull you in to press you against him. He wants to feel your lips, move against them in soft, then needy motions.

He just wants you as a whole, if not forever, then once.

Just one more time.

And when he sees you wait for him to speak, fumbling with your fingers with your eyes far away from his, he whispers the word “courage” to himself once before his hand reaches out to grab yours and settle on your palm.

Your gaze shifts to him immediately, his abrupt action causing confusion in you as your heart rate spikes up. But when you see the expression on his face, you feel like you know.

“Y/N, I- we… we need to talk,” he finally declares, his thumb gently ghosting over the skin of your hand, such a simple gesture sending shivers down your spine.

Yes, he doesn’t have to say much. You know what he wants to talk about; after all, there aren’t that many possibilities of what he could want at your first encounter after being somewhat estranged all this time.

“I’m not sure I want-”

“No, please,” he interrupts, squeezing your hand tighter in his. A few weeks ago, his warmth would’ve felt like a safe haven for you, pulling you out from the dark grounds of an ocean if it needed to - but right now, you feel like you’re drowning, like you’re sinking instead of swimming up. “There’s so much I’ve been wanting to tell you and there were so little opportunities to do so.”

Half-fearing, half-anticipating what he’s going to say, you search for the walls you’ve managed to pull up, accepting that Seokjin will never want you in that way. You think you’ve moved on, but now that he’s so close, on the brink of either confessing or rejecting you, you feel tense - and both options aren’t ideal for you right now.

You wait until he’s ready to talk, watch his chest rise and then fall, his eyes meeting yours, but looking like they’d rather not before-

“I’m in love with you,” he finally breathes - and as he mutters his last word, the air around you becomes suffocating, the sounds muffled and his touch heavy.

Is that better than being rejected? You don’t know. You really do not know; and the shake of your head and furrow of your eyebrows show him that something is plaguing you that he might not want to hear.

“Y/N.” His tone is calm, steady, different from your hazardous heart that’s breaking right in front of him, and he doesn’t even see it.

“Why did you not tell me that back then, Jin?” you inquire, pulling your hand away and settling it on your lap. “We slept together. Why did you let me go?”

This… this is awkward. It’s ridiculous. Seokjin shouldn’t have decided to talk about this in a crowd, surrounded by people who know nothing about what’s going on between you two. But now that he did, his heart sinks, his mind in a painful fog, and he puffs out some air, calming himself.

“Let’s leave,” he suddenly suggests, and you think you can see the faintest glint of panic in his dark eyes, “clear it out somewhere else. At my place?”

Again, you shake your head, chuckling lightly but not decently. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. There’s someone…”

Jin is quick to cut you once again, his breathing suddenly erratic. He’s been in love with you for years - no, he can’t take the thought of you having a boyfriend now, choosing someone over him. “Someone else? This fast? Y/N, why did I never-”

He stops mid-sentence, and it happens just timely as you were going to hold out a hand to silence him anyway.

“Jin. Listen,” you start, leaning in closer, “there’s someone who offered to guide me through a scholarship. Not here - in a different city. And as much as I’ve always wanted you, I can’t do long-distance relationships.”

Your words ease the pain inside him, his mind suddenly relaxing as he takes in your confession. You want him. You’ve always wanted him. Is all of this real?

“Where- where are you going?”

“It’s too far away. I wouldn’t see you more than a handful of times a year. I can’t do this,” you admit, your eyes stinging as you swallow the lump in your throat.

You see him tilt his head with a sigh, and you’re on the verge of breaking when you see his mouth twitch, that familiar movement that mostly means despair. This always happens when his grades are worse than he expects. It happens when he talks to his little brother who lives miles away. Mostly, you see it when you watch - or used to watch - movies together, especially Pixar and Ghibli ones tearing him up in no time.

And now, it’s happening because of you.

“Is there no way for you to stay?”

You bite your lip, chewing on it until you taste your lipstick. “I don’t think so. And it’s… a big chance for me.”

Seokjin’s jaw clenches and he nods, relief turning into sorrow as his expression shows understanding on the surface while his blood is boiling with pain on the inside. He’s angry with himself - he truly is. But he’s also sad about the fact that you never approached him.

And while waiting for the other in silence, phones in your hands, but the courage to message each other so far away, you missed it. You both missed it and he hates it.

“Then I hope you’ll get everything you want, Y/N,” he finally says, standing up as he grabs his thin jacket. It’s probably not that fresh outside yet, he can carry it - maybe hide his fumbling hands that clearly show his nervosity and distaste to this whole situation.

All he can think of is to get away before he breaks.

Yet, he comes closer to you, hovering above you before he leans down. Not caring about your surroundings, only seeing you, his heart only beating for you, he presses his lips onto your forehead first, wanders to your nose, both your cheeks and your earlobes as he says in between each kiss, “whenever… you decide… to come back… I’ll be here…”

Then, he cups your face, looking at your beautiful, full lips, missing how they feel on his before he kisses you gently. His mouth moves delicately, sweetly against yours, bittersweet memories and feelings streaming back as you internally forbid yourself to cry.

“Waiting for you,” he finally whispers, lips brushing yours, and every fiber in you tries hard to hold back. To not pull him into another room, kiss him more fiercely and bring back the fervent heat that you’d indulged in the last time.

His thumb brushes your cheeks softly, his eyes registering you gulping hard as he says his goodbyes, so he can leave. There’s just no way he can stay here any longer. “Don’t cry. I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

And then, his warmth is gone.

Fighting the urge to follow him, you watch him walk away, mind going crazy as you see him face the ground. You can’t falter. You need to focus on your studies before anything else - you don’t want to regret your choices; and if what he says holds true, you might just be able to wrap him into you forever when you come back in a year or two.

Maybe it’s not over yet.

The sun has set by the time Seokjin arrives home. All the sunshine from today morning has vanished, warming someone else, somewhere else now, leaving him in the dark as he lets himself fall on his bed.

An absolute disaster, all of this. And what an idiot he is. Why did he not insist on inviting you over? Ask you if there was any way you’d spend this one last night with him? The lingering feelings of your soft lips strengthen his despair tenfold, and he hates himself for not fighting for a night or a day with you. After all, you’re not going away just yet.

But deep down he knows why he did what he did: being together again would just hurt you both further, the small flame that both of your pain is becoming a searing wildfire. At least he knows for sure that this is what would happen to him. He knows it’d be near impossible to let you go if he woke up beside you.

What if Seokjin searches for scholarships, too? Your grades are similar - if you can get one, why not him? The picture of having you around, falling asleep next to you, studying together and bantering over food and movies - it’s so intriguing that he knows what he’ll search up tomorrow. 

Then again, you have your people; he doesn’t know anyone who can guide him through this, give him a fast opportunity to study somewhere else, be near you.

He doesn’t know. Not how to get you back, not how to feel you again; his brain comes up with nothing helpful, no plan he can actually execute successfully.

Slipping out of his pants, he lingers at the corner of the bed, his arms leaning on his thighs as his fingers tangle between them. Seokjin shakes his head as he physically feels his heart break, each broken piece fighting the other and torturing him, no matter how much he tells them to calm down.

And despite not knowing what to do, what to feel, how to erase the image of you and your face from his mind for the time being, he remembers something else.

When he’d looked for the meaning of the aloe plant, he had found many sources, some beautiful descriptions, and some poetic definitions that connected it to an emotional feeling. While the flower holds the meaning of affection, the memory of another word comes flooding in, ironic to the fact that aloe is supposed to heal, used to mend injuries and pain.

And thinking of this particular word, all he does know at this agonizing moment is that he identifies with your plant’s meaning.

He knows that all he feels is grief.

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[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝓐𝓾𝓻𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓐𝓼𝔂𝓵𝓾𝓶: 𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟹𝙺

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚄

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

I breathed out an airy and desolate sigh through my nose, obviously I unconsciously did it a little too loud as the raven haired male sitting across from me looked down at the floor.

"It was all my fault.....wasn't it?"

I looked up, the glasses sitting on my nose bridge tilting slightly that I had to push them back up so I could study his features, or should I say, his expressions. His eyelids never blinked once, his eyes were trained on the pattern of the carpet underneath him, but I knew his mind was elsewhere. I looked with pity at the bandages wrapped around his wrists, some of the edges stained with fresh blood. I gulped slightly, my stomach threatening to spill out my meager lunch of an apple and avocado toast slice from earlier. I could handle hearing patients tell and retell me about how they stabbed their parents to death, cut off their significant other's genitals because they were unloyal to them, even tackled a deranged lunatic that once tried to...... seduce me to put mildly.......

But to this day, I can't help but get dizzy when I treat or deal with patients who are self harming victims, because yes, they are victims. Victims of their own self loathing, guilt, and depressive state that isn't their fault. It just pains me so much to see them resort to such drastic measures...

But I'm also not stupid and know some, if not most only do it for attention or to manipulate others, and Yunho is a case not far from it. Which is why I was the one sent to deal with him. All the other psychologists would have fallen for his sad puppy eyes, good looks, well built physique and would have released him too early into the world. Not that he's dangerous and a threat to society, but he's not emotionally nor mentally stable to go deal with daily life yet. And I'm not a softie by any means even if I'm patient and meek doctor when necessary. But I'm objective and I seek deeper into the true person hiding behind the front they put in front of me.

"Do you believe it was your fault Yunho?" Usually one would get scolded for answering a question with a question, but I prefer this method in order to get my patients to reason and draw out their own conclusions......

And makes them pour out their true answers.

I watch Yunho ponder for a moment.

"It has to be- otherwise she wouldn't have...wouldn't have-"

He bites back a choked sob, teeth tightening and gritting against themselves as he fails to contain his tears. His hands cover his face as he begins to cry uncontrollably, desperate and heartwrenching wails resonating throughout the 4 walls keeping us company. Reaching for the purple plaid box on the coffee table between us, I take out a few tissues and stand up from my seat. Lightly tapping on his shoulder, I whisper a 'here' to him. He thanks me, but since he's crying too hard no sound comes out his throat. For the next few minutes, he's blowing out his runny nose, all red just like his eyes from crying too hard. He's sniffling while trying to control his previous hyperventilating session. I want to hug him or at least give him a pat in the back. But I can't, I can only sit back and try to imagine the agony he's probably going through, try to put myself in his shoes as I dive deep into the event that got him here in the first place:

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

Coming back from a trip to the store, Yunho momentarily looks around confused when he heard his baby daughter crying. Quickly putting the bags on the kitchen counter, he makes his way over to the nursery that adjoined the main bedroom. Calling out for his wife, he receives no response as he walks down the hallway. He calls once more for her but stops midway as he opens the slightly ajar door. His heart stops beating and his veins run cold as he stares into the lifeless body of his beloved wife hanging in the room, feeling as if the oxygen is being ripped out from his lungs, suffocating slowly.

As if sensing his agitation, his daughter's cries from the other room grow louder, so much that they raise concern from their next door neighbor, a kind and sweet old lady who more than once has offered her help in watching over the child or help them out in any way she could. Typing in the passcode, she makes it there just in time to stop the tall male from inflicting more harm upon himself as he holds onto his wife's body in agony. Having been left with no choice, she immediately calls for an ambulance, who arrive there shortly and take him to a nearby hospital.

He was monitored 24/7 as he had a history of attempted suicide before. The nurses and doctors didn't want another episode to happen again, not wanting to leave a barely 1 year old fatherless as well as motherless. As an investigation went, police found a journal hidden deep between the mattresses on the bed. When they poured over the first pages, they knew there was much more to the story than just a doting husband who couldn't live without his wife, hence why he was relocated to the infamous asylum......

And a specialized woman was tasked to not only unmask the truth, but hopefully help a poor broken mind be put back together again.

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

Hence why I'm here now, the folder I had read over and over again still on my lap. It honestly amazed me that I'd actually get to work on a case like this, and of course I took up the challenge of digging into a mind like Yunho's, not just to help him, but to leave a precedent for any other situations like this that came after.

"A precedent?" I remember the officer asking me.

"Yes. You'd be surprised just how common these types of toxic relationships there are in an everyday basis yet no one ever looks deeper because they're too focused treating a depressed person who's trying to kill themselves and don't focus on what they really are...."

Shutting the folder, I tucked it under my arm before turning on my heel.

"A manipulative individual who'll do anything to keep someone tied to them forever."

That's how I viewed Yunho, it's how I should be viewing him. At least until I could hopefully get him to change.

"How's......is my daughter ok?"

I let out a soft hum and nod as I scribbled something down on the notepad.

"She's fine. We're having someone take care of her in the meantime, don't worry."

Yunho let out a sigh of relief, fingers fidgeting against his thighs as he mustered up the courage to say something.

"Could I.....could I please see her?"

From the sad look in my eyes he could already tell the answer was negative.

"I'm sorry Yunho....I'm afraid until we see some improvement, we can't allow you to be reunited with her just yet."

I tried to keep my voice steady as I said that, bracing myself to possibly see him breakdown once more. He had already lost his wife and now learning that his only child was forced away from him could possibly send him spiraling down into another episode.

But Yunho instead took a deep breath and seemed calm.

"I understand.....it's ok..." I knew he was saying those last two words more to himself than to me.

Lifting his face up, he suddenly shocked me by looking so bright and rather happy.

"So I guess it's best if we begin right?"

Even to this day, I don't know whether I should have been delighted to have such a compliant patient.....

Or terrified.

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"Tell me Yunho, what was your first reaction when you saw your wife?"

A subtle hint of a smile curled at the corners of his lips.

"I thought she was the kindest and most caring person in the world, very pretty too. She just walked in and the room instantly lit up."

He was reminiscing about those times, I could tell. That fond look on his face was unmistakable.

"Do you believe you fell in love at first sight with her?"

His smile suddenly dissipated, eyebrows scrunching together as if recollecting memories from so long ago.

"I think.......I felt attracted to her.....but.....I don't think it was love?"

I could tell he felt conflicted with himself, but that's exactly what I wanted. I want him to question every feeling and sensation he felt at the moment so he could decide for himself if it was real or just a mere illusion he held. If he starts to second guess or question what he felt then he'd start reasoning and come to the conclusion that what he felt was wrong and mistaken. He'd see that his actions weren't justified.

"So when do you truly believe you fell in love with her?"

I stopped writing on my notepad and watched him close his eyes as he tried to pinpoint the exact time he felt whatever he thought was love.

"One night....one of our friends was feeling down in spirits. I witnessed how caring she was towards them...kindly reassuring them that they were loved, that they mattered. I vividly remember her kind eyes and loving smile as she comforted them. Then it hit me that she was that kind of person. Selfless, caring, doting, would sacrifice anything for her friends and family...... it was hard for anyone not to fall in love with her."

He turned his hand over, studying the wedding ring that he still wore to this day, the engravings of their initials being his prime interest.

"And at that moment I knew I had to have her. I couldn't let anyone else have her. I wanted her.... that love, compassion, empathy..her confidence and strong nature, I wanted-"

He stopped mid sentence and his eyes wizened in horror as he came to the realization I had foreseen long ago. He looked up at me, meeting my unwavering eyes that held no emotion at that moment.

"She had all the qualities I had always lacked in."

I took my glasses off and nodded.

"And I unconsciously wanted them for myself.... but the only way I could have them was...through her?" He seemed sickened with himself.

"Not exactly Yunho. You could have learnt to love yourself and raise your self esteem." I quickly scribbled my observation down.

"But I didn't. Instead I caged her up and slowly tore her down."

I couldn't help but let out an involuntary smile as he drew out that conclusion.

"Glad to know you've accepted that fact, even if it took several months for you to understand."

Shutting the notepad, I lifted myself up from my chair, straightening my blouse. Yunho followed suit.

"Is our session over?" He was always so polite, always escorting me out and holding the door open for me, which other doctors would have adamantly refused, too scared to come close to their patients. But not me. I let them have certain liberties at times.

"Not yet Yunho. As you've made remarkable progress, I got permission for you to see someone."

He was momentarily confused for a split second. Poor thing probably thought it was one of the nurses coming in to give him some new medication to take, which he hated with a passion. Stepping outside for a brief moment, I happily took the young baby in my arms, the little girl already used to seeing me as I always went to go see her after being with Yunho for a few hours. When I came back inside he had his back turned to me, once again staring off into nowhere. The light gurgled babbles the baby emitted caught his attention immediately. He whipped his head around so fast I thought he'd break his neck for a second. He teared up as the child began squealing in excitement as she recognized her father right away.

"Oh my-" He choked up with tears that he couldn't finish his sentence.

I calmly walked over to him, lightly bouncing the baby in my arms. Yunho hesitantly reached his hands out.

"Can I..?" He had such a hopeful glint in his eyes.

I didn't answer, I merely held his daughter out to him. As soon as she felt his embrace, she latched onto him as if he was one of the teddy bears she often slept with. Perhaps he was one.

No....he is one.

In my time of spending time with Yunho, I've come to strongly believe he is a sweet and tender individual. And judging by the way the little girl feels safe in his arms, I do believe he is capable of being truly loved.....

If he learns how to properly love not just someone else, but himself too.

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Stepping out of my car, I quickly grab the small pink bag on the passenger seat before locking it. Treading through the small patch of green grass, I ring the doorbell and wait for one of the occupants to open up for me. No surprise, I'm greeted by the same raven haired male I met nearly 3 years ago. He looks delighted to see me.

"Y/N. Hi!"

I wave at him, a small but genuine smile on my features.

"Hi Yunho. Did I come at a bad time?" I notice the apron covered in flour and leftover egg on it.

"Oh no not at all. Please come in."

Moving aside to let me pass, my nose catches the scent of baked goods filling the air. I can distinctly recognize the hints of lavender and french vanilla, an odd but surprisingly tasty combination. I spot out of the corner of my eye a little head peeking out from the kitchen, curious to know who had come to pay them a visit. Letting out a squeal, she quickly ran over to attach herself on my leg.

"Y/N!"

I chuckled and lightly run my fingers through her hair which was longer than the last time I saw it.

"Hi Jina, I see you've been baking something." We both chuckle as I scraped off some cake batter that had gotten on the tip of her button nose.

"Me and dad are making cupcakes for my friend's birthday party tomorrow." She explained.

"Wow that's a really nice gesture. I bet they'll turn out delicious."

Remembering that I was short on time and that I had one last task to carry out, I pull out the bag I had hidden behind my back and hand it to her.

"It's for you."

Her eyes began to sparkle so much they could rival all the stars in the galaxy. After thanking me like 20 thousand times, she plopped her tiny body on the couch to tear into the contents inside it. I shake my head before taking out a small paper from inside my trench coat.

"And this is for you."

Taking the slip from my fingers, Yunho opens it up and scans what it says. He seems confused for a moment, not fully understanding what it means. He looks to me once more, probably for the last time, asking for an explanation.

"It's your official release from the institution. No more drop in visits, no more eyes on you 24/7, and soon you won't have to continue with the prescribed medication, although when that happens they will send someone once in a while to check up and make sure you're ok without them."

Yunho nods but it is a rather sad and pained nod.

"So this means you won't be seeing us any longer?"

I inhale deeply and nod.

"This was a temporary thing until you got better Yunho. After all....I was only the doctor assigned to you."

It hurt me to say that as much as it probably hurt him, as much as it'd hurt Jina to know I wouldn't be coming back anymore.

"Can't we at least be friends?"

I hated seeing those puppy eyes of him practically beg me, signature trait he passed on to his daughter.

"That would be completely unprofessional of my part Yunho. I deeply cherish and treasure all the time we spent together and I'm beyond happy and satisfied that you've come so far since the start of our journey..."

I sighed deeply.

"But every journey has an end." He finished my sentence.

Extending his hand out to me, I took it and gave it a firm shake.

"I'm really going to miss you." He admitted.

"Me too. Me too."

Going over to the momentarily forgotten 4 year old, she let out an 'oof' when she suddenly found herself cooped up in my embrace.

"Take care of yourself and of your dad ok?"

I kissed the top of her head, her grinning face not registering that this might be the last time she ever saw me. Yunho walked me out the door and even escorted me all the way to my car. Always the gentleman, he held the door open for me. Before I could even get one foot inside, I felt a large hand grip my wrist. Turning to him, I was flustered when he suddenly pulled me close to him.

"Please don't leave. I need you....I..."

He looked conflicted with himself as he tried to finish his words. Taking a deep breath, he confessed:

"I love you."

My heart sank. He said the 3 words I hoped he'd never direct at me. Mainly because I was scared as he was. Don't get me wrong, Yunho is a wonderful man, and he truly deserves to be loved....

But am I certain that he has finally learned to love? Or is it because he feels he needs me?........

Only one way to find out.

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