#i get a lot of comments in the tags that i can't respond to because this is a side blog but just know that i want to respond

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

I didn't want to respond or put attention but I'm going to just to say my peace. But this is not surprising honestly. This is sort of bully behavior or twitter behavior of people who disagree with beliefs and whatnot and like to start drama. There's a whole group of them. And they talk shit all the time and block me and whatever else. A lot of them go through spouts of following and blocking and then unblocking. And I see it but I don't care let them do what they want to do it's their life. They have nice gifs I have nothing against them. Let them do their little posts and tag everyone in the universe to get notes and band together and bash other people with different opinions then they have and bully and whatever else they want to do I don't care. At the end of the day I wanted to say something political and in this day in age we can't say anything without people on our ass so it's whatever. That's why I delete the posts most of the time cause I don't want to deal with the backlash and the rude comments. But most of the time it doesn't matter cause people like this still screenshot and cause the drama. Don't have the energy for it. And yeah they got hundreds of people to unfollow me and that's okay cause I want people to follow for content not political views or whatever other garbage. I hope they can find compassion and learn to accept other people for their own opinions. But anyways that's it. Not gonna give opinions in the future and if I do and post it and then delete it again i'm not gonna explain myself. Because my opinions are valid and I shouldn't be attacked for it every damn time.

just so yall know @livelovecaliforniadreams is a raging maga fuck :)

[front-facing-pokemon]

hello i have scrolled through your blog twice now all the way to the beginning, thank you for your service

aw thank you for being so kind but the beginning… ourgh… every time someone finds a post back from like 3 years ago when i started this blog they always leave comments about how messed up they are. i dropped this blog for about three years, back when i had barely made my way into kanto—the process for making even one post took much longer then than it does now, since i was less experienced—but brought it back only recently (you scrolled back through the entire blog, so you definitely saw the reblog chain about this—you don't need the whole story!)—the older posts have a lot of weird and messed up pokémon models and i didn't even get them very funny and it's– it's not good. ironically i've gotten better at doing these nowadays and it's certainly a trip down memory lane to look back into 2020 when i started this blog. i was a very different pokémon back then

thank you for comments like this. they make my day, and i hope to continue providing this very important service to pokémonkind—and humankind alike, if there are any humans following here, of course!

[steeklover]

You guys will not BELIEVE what I just saw...

[sunnami]

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders + lily x reader.

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society. 

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black. 

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ ��� : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun. 

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways. 

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun. 

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused. 

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.” 

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt. 

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?” 

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.” 

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—” 

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society. 

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly. 

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.” 

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?” 

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it. 

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!” 

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity. 

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give. 

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress. 

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry. 

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight. 

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat. 

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period. 

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then— 

“That’s Sirius.” 

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit. 

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.” 

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!” 

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.” 

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either. 

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.) 

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.” 

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.” 

You grimace. “Which cousin?” 

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.” 

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.” 

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.” 

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.” 

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.” 

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice. 

You nod. 

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.” 

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe. 

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.) 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.” 

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you. 

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.” 

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?” 

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.” 

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.” 

“Oh, Harry. . .” 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?” 

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath. 

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly. 

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?” 

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.” 

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?” 

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes. 

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.” 

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be. 

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”  

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.” 

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space. 

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered. 

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved. 

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease. 

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open. 

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.” 

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears. 

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!” 

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.” 

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.” 

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked. 

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?” 

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations. 

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?” 

Were you? 

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend! 

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize. 

Then, you find it. 

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face. 

It’s a space on that wall just for you. 

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.” 

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much. 

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.” 

That’s all you say before you run out of the door. 

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.) 

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe. 

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.” 

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.” 

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well. 

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.” 

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes. 

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.” 

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!” 

You don’t look back. 

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.” 

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair. 

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.” 

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you. 

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?” 

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks. 

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!” 

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.” 

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater. 

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra. 

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more. 

“Certain,” You respond, yawning. 

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones. 

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!” 

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out. 

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came. 

“I know,” You say defeatedly. 

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.” 

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.” 

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?” 

“I don’t know,” You say honestly. 

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora. 

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—” 

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well. 

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.) 

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.” 

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.” 

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home. 

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order. 

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips. 

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.” 

“I’m always right.” You pout. 

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.” 

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back. 

How lucky you are. 

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen. 

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly. 

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.” 

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!” 

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.” 

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.” 

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway. 

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.” 

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.” 

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will. 

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!” 

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.” 

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?” 

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.” 

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.” 

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.” 

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.” 

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?” 

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror. 

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.” 

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll. 

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.” 

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them. 

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.” 

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?” 

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.” 

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.” 

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness. 

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters. 

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement. 

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue. 

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead. 

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.” 

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?” 

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor. 

“No!” 

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice. 

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh. 

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?” 

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need. 

“Expulso!” 

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down. 

“Accio wand!” 

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense. 

“Peter?” You call out. 

“Crucio!” 

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt. 

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!” 

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.” 

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.” 

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat. 

“Defodio!” 

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground. 

That just leaves one more problem. 

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.” 

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.” 

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.” 

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.” 

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die,  s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.” 

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work. 

You just wanted to rest now. 

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words. 

“Avada Kedavra.” 

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms. 

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.” 

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely. 

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?” 

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?” 

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?” 

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.” 

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?” 

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors. 

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!” 

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.” 

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.) 

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus. 

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains. 

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.) 

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by. 

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for. 

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

[astonmartinii]

kiss it better | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x first responder!reader when oscar crashes into the barrier at monza, he thinks he sees his guardian angel, in reality he's just got a concussion and that's a first responder, but it's the thought that counts.

f1

liked by arthurleclerc, liamlawson and 1,206,700 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

f1: woah. huge shunt for oscar piastri in turn three. the australian was pulled out of the car by first responders and is getting treatment. red flag for now.

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user1: omg like my breath was completely gone, i hope oscar is okay

user2: holy shit that's the worst crash i've ever seen i'm so glad they aren't replaying it

user3: i tuned in late and i knew as soon as they didn't replay it it had to be bad

user4: thank the lord for the first responders, they were so fast i hope oscar is good

user5: i'm gonna need netflix to take the backseat on this one i can't take the dramatic editing this is already stressful enough

user6: the grosjean crash was bad enough, i can't deal with it with oscar

user7: are there any updates yet?

user8: not yet.

user9: i'm sat in the grandstand right where this was and it was literally so scary, the first responders literally had to jump on the car

user10: so so lucky that they were stationed so close to where he crashed

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,309,761 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: first of all i'd like to thank everyone for their support and well wishes, i really appreciate it. it's actually thanks to y/n and the rest of the first responders that i'm back on my feet as fast as i am. big thank you to y/n for sacrificing her ability to shower comfortably to help me out of the car and avoid the flames, i am eternally grateful and mama piastri would like you over for dinner to thank you.

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user9: i'm so so happy he's okay, that crash was so scary

landonorris: glad to hear you're okay mate !

oscarpiastri: you can't get rid of me that easily norris

landonorris: woah, no joking about dying when you've only been discharged for 24 hours

oscarpiastri: sorry, skipped over that one in my contract

danielricciardo: make sure you always read that mclaren contract carefully

user11: thank you y/n for your service

user12: for real she put her leg on the line for oscar she needs a raise

yourusername: it was my pleasure to do my job and help you out oscar. and i'll always take up an offer for a mum's dinner

oscarpiastri: she'll be very happy to hear that

yourusername: text me the details and i'll be there

user13: it's so crazy to me how f1 drivers just get up and walk out of crashes like that

user14: no for real how is the medic more injured than him 😭

logansargent: you are so lucky there were no cameras when you were on painkillers cause you were talking some shit

oscarpiastri: please don't remind me

logansargent: just because there weren't cameras in the room doesn't mean i didn't record you, i look forward to my birthday present this year

oscarpiastri: you wouldn't

logansargent: you wanna bet?

user15: so like how bad do we think what oscar said was?

user16: and how much do we need to pay logan to release it?

mclaren

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 609,778 others

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri & yourusername

mclaren: after her heroics in the first half of the season, y/n finally took oscar up and is a guest of mclaren this weekend. as a medic, y/n is one of the most important aspects of a race weekend, and it's an honour to host her!

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user17: did oscar write this caption? that man was BLUSHING in the fan questions video

user18: awwww mama piastri is also there this weekend and in a load of the pictures in the paddock they stuck together

oscarpiastri: so happy to see you again y/n !!

yourusername: my pleasure, oscar. racing is a lot more fun from the garage

oscarpiastri: i'll try my best not to crash this time, i know my favourite medic isn't on duty

yourusername: oh wow what a title, i'll wear it with pride

user19: they're such dorks i love them so much

landonorris: can someone get me some popcorn, i'm enjoying watching oscar squirm and blush all weekend

oscarpiastri: i am NOT !!

landonorris: don't worry i'm sure y/n finds it cute

oscarpiastri: can you please STOP !!

yourusername: not to prove lando right but it is very cute

user20: lando is taking his big brother role a bit too far

alexalbon: you were right @logansargent this is fun to watch

logansargent: oh just you wait until you find out the stuff he was saying in hospital

oscarpiastri: please stop telling people

alexalbon: from what i heard she was right there @yourusername what did he say logan is being a good friend (for now)

yourusername: considering i literally fried my leg getting him out i don't remember most of that day

alexalbon: UGH you people are no help

yourusername: ???

oscarpiastri: ???

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 2,560 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: no pulling this one out of a burning wreck this weekend 👍

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user21: omg oscar's smile ??? i am faint

landonorris: do i mean nothing to you?

yourusername: i am literally oscar's guest let me rep him in peace

landonorris: booooooo if you're going to wear his number might as well ask him out while you're at it

yourusername: mind your business, i know what i'm doing

user22: Y/N?????????

oscarpiastri: i see you know my angles already, can you come every weekend?

yourusername: i'd love to but i have a lil thing called a job :(

oscarpiastri: boring, can't you be my full time personal photographer?

landonorris: and his girlfriend?

oscarpiastri: do you mind?

landonorris: what? i'm just trying to help

oscarpiastri: you are MEDDLING

yourusername: you guys done?

oscarpiastri: yes

landonorris: NO

user23: lando is a no 1 y/n x oscar shipper he's so real

user24: y/n is so much stronger than me i'd hand in my notice right this second

yourusername: believe me i would if i could

landonorris: to both options?

oscarpiastri: LANDO STOP

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, oscarpiastri and 19,056 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: happy to be your guardian angel baby x

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user29: new f1 parents just entered the chat

landonorris: i'm taking responsibility for this happening, you’re welcome

yourusername: stop right there buddy, this was all ME

oscarpiastri: nuh uh it was ME

yourusername: i asked YOU out?

oscarpiastri: technically yes, but i asked you to dinner first

yourusername: actually, if i remember correctly that was your mum

oscarpiastri: FINE you asked me out and i'm very glad you did and you ARE my guardian angel and you ARE way out of my league

landonorris: you said it i didn't

oscarpiastri: LANDO LET ME FLIRT IN PEACE YOU NUISANCE

landonorris: woah, you've changed bro

yourusername: are we finished boys?

landonorris: yes, and for real i am very happy for you guys

user30: lando saying he made this happen is the most lando thing ever

logansargent: can you tell him to stop ignoring me now?

yourusername: soz under strict rules not to fraternize with a traitor

logansargent: I'M SORRY BUT I CAN'T HANDLE SPICE

user31: at least logan is self-aware

oscarpiastri

liked by aussiegrit, yourusername and 702,443 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: sometimes all you need to do is flip an f1 car into a barrier and burst into flames to meet the love of your life (and give her third degree burns)

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user32: OSCAR WITH A BACKWARDS CAP TEACHING HER TENNIS SOMEONE CALL 911 I AM NOT OKAY

landonorris: okay we get it now you guys are cute

yourusername: for someone who was 'the reason we got together' you've changed your tune

landonorris: yes i am glad you have each other but that doesn't change the fact that i am LONELY and don't need to see gross couple stuff

oscarpiastri: you poor baby

landonorris: NO SYMPATHY?

oscarpiastri: i'm gonna cite all of your tomfoolery in the other comment sections

landonorris: okay fair

user33: okay but can we promise to never have a crash like that again?

yourusername: agreed

aussiegrit: happy for you kid

oscarpiastri: thank you mark :)

yourusername: so this is mark... hi?

aussiegrit: don't worry i've heard nothing but wonderful things about you, i look forward to meeting you at the next race

user34: y/n already has all of the approval oh wow

yourusername: i love you dummy (never do that again or i'll never talk to you again)

oscarpiastri: you got it, wins only from now on 🫡

yourusername: ur the champion in my heart

oscarpiastri: 🧡 🧡 🧡

logansargaent

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 304,788 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri

logansargeant: public shaming is good sometimes. though now i third wheel with only a fish by my side

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user35: i am SCREAMING

yourusername: oh florida boy, your time will come (don't put that fish pic on your tinder, i know you want to)

logansargeant: girls love fish?

yourusername: trust me they don't

logansargeant: is this just because oscar is bad at fishing?

yourusername: DELETE IT FROM YOUR TINDER PROFILE NOW OR THIRD WHEEL FOREVER

user36: what is going on here?

alexalbon: god logan this is tragic, how did you expose him and end up with a fish as your date

logansargeant: but is the size of the fish not impressive?

alexalbon: no, take y/n's advice

oscarpiastri: fine, you're forgiven. only because y/n found it cute, if she found it weird it would be you found at the bottom of a lake

logansargeant: ???????????? there was a chilli oscar

oscarpiastri: stop hiding behind your american passport, i'd eat that chilli for you

logansargeant: but it all worked out?

oscarpiastri: thankfully for you

yourusername: is it bad that this is kinda sexy?

logansargeant: he threatened to murder me?

yourusername: he's so protective 🫶

oscarpiastri: hehehehe thanks babe x

logansargeant: i give up.

note: WOAH two in one night? i am on a roll. anyhow, do enjoy, i love oscar so much so glad he extended !! xx

[blueparadis]

LEMONADE + SHIU KONG // f!reader ( she's a sniper), smoking, mention of murder and violence, implicit smut, semi-public ( happens in a car ), little tension between them, rivals to fvck buddies dynamics, he is such a tease here. 1.3 (w.c)

special thanks to @poohbea for beta-reading. without her, i really wouldn't have posted this. i had something in mind and this is entirely different. so i said better luck next time to myself and found the courage to post this. | back to nav. | also tagging @yuujispinkhair

“You’re not nearly as inconspicuous as you believe yourself to be.” Kong mutters off-handedly under his breath, reaching for the latch of your belt. His minty tobacco-laced breath paired with that familiar musky cologne threatens to send your nerves into a frenzy. He’s too close for someone who claims to ‘just wanted to undo your seatbelt’. He had no reason to but he did it anyway, probably because you were asking too many questions. He could have easily pressed one of those buttons on the driver’s side door, the one that unlocks all seat belts at once. The car is fancy enough to have those kinds of luxury features anyway, but you can’t help the racing of your heart when his fingers brush your skin. It’s only when he sits back in his own seat do you register his remark. Did he just scold you? The possibility alone has you licking your bottom lip nervously. 

It’s not as though he never has, but given your history with him, he rarely comments on your professionalism. He has been your handler for almost a year now and has yet to actually correct or complain about the way you do your job. He’s proud of your skills, he has to be, otherwise, he wouldn’t be hiring you for every sniper-kill case he gets.

“I heard you were back in town,” he starts, tapping on his cigarette packet before taking one between his lips. “But I couldn't contact you until I got the green light. That, and I’ve been too damn busy with the bounty offers that keep coming up.” He digs into his breast pocket to fish out a lighter, the flame flicking to life as his thumb rolls over the spark wheel. You look at him visibly confused, something he acknowledges with an amused huff. “Were you really so busy that you couldn't read the briefing I sent you?” He is definitely scolding you, but for what exactly? Trying to stay neutral in the face of his crude teasing, you let out a small breath, choosing to keep his gaze despite the nagging need to look away. He’s changed a bit. There’s worry in his eyes, more than usual, eyebrows creased as he continues. “Ah! I can't let you slip up now — ” 

“Why am I here?” You interject with a frown. 

“What?” He has the audacity to look at you surprised, as if he wasn’t the one to call you here again.

“This is the third time this month you’ve had me meet you… and in case you haven’t noticed, I have a bit of a busy schedule.” Kong lets you speak for longer than ten seconds for the first time in a very long time, his bad habit of interrupting taking the backseat for once. When he doesn’t answer you, you click your tongue, irritation evident in the furrow of your brow. “Why am I here, Kong-san—?”

“Shiu.” He corrects. Guess you spoke too soon. “And you still didn't answer my question. Did you or did you not—”

“I did.” You respond sourly. “And it told me a whole lot of nothing. Which is why I'll ask you again. Why am I here, Shiu?” Despite your irritation, the glaring fact of his contributions to your career as a sniper sits heavy on your shoulders as you sit in weighted silence. He knows it too, and never fails to bring it up every time you try to walk away, try to tell him you don’t need his help. He’s pushed you farther than anyone else ever has. Certainly, you owe it to him, but his ego is already big enough without the offer of such a confession, and you would rather put a bullet in your skull than admit that. 

The air inside the car grows thick with smoke as he takes drag after drag of his cigarette, not that you minded, you’re a smoker yourself, but just to spite him you opened the window by your side. “Isn’t it obvious?” Kong soon discards the butt out of his own window, studying you all the while, observing the mix of question and frustration that creases your forehead as your frown deepens. His lips tug up in one corner ever so slightly, too slight for anyone else to spot, but being around him as often as you have, you knew it was coming. “I’ve missed you.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. What a horrible man… he’s toying with you.

“Hilarious,” you mutter, offering him a sarcastic chuckle. He doesn’t waver, doesn’t look away, that small smile growing at your skepticism. The realization has your heart beating in your ears, and suddenly finding it difficult to keep his gaze.

“Want me to prove it to you?” He dips his head slightly, the leather of his seat squeaking in protest as he leans closer.

“No.” Your reply was instantaneous but you do not move, his hand reaching to play with the necklace resting against your collarbone, the very someone he gifted you after your first successful case. “Aren't we supposed to be doing a job here?”

“You tell me. Haven't you read the briefing?” Again with the same question. He is far too calm in this situation, fingers caressing the hammering pulse that lies just below the surface of your skin. “You weren’t lying to me were you—?”

“This is going nowhere.” You huff, finally breaking the intense staring contest he had trapped you in, finding the courage to withdraw from his touch momentarily. 

“It could if…” he guides you back to him, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gaze dipping to your lips. “If you wanted.”

You bite your lip lowering your head to hide your merriment. “Like the last time?” You ask with a knowing smile. If you wanted. Yeah. Sure. As if he didn’t. Because during the ‘last time’ in question, things were entirely different. You two weren’t out for a job. In fact, you were in a situation similar to this one, in his car, engaging in your usual back and forth. It’s unclear exactly what came over you that day, but those sly eyes and that cocky smile had you seeing your handler as less of a mentor and more of the man he was. The conversation devolved into his lips against yours, his hands against your hips as he encouraged you from your seat onto his lap. Thunder rumbled the heavens and rain battered against the windshield, the perfect mask for inevitable heavy breaths and throaty moans. Your skin tingled beneath his touch, his lips, his teeth, the press of his thigh between your legs that had electricity crackling up the base of your spine. His name fogged the windows, each syllable working its way through the tresses of your mind till that was all you could utter, all that truly mattered. He reveled in that, in the way you gave yourself to him almost entirely. How your body grew hot with every caress, every thrust, every kiss. What did you even call this feeling? Neither of you knew, but it was clear that either didn’t want it to stop. By the end of it, his presence spanned your body, inside and out. 

Shiu laughs at your subtle accusation. It has the kind of warmth that reminds you of cozy mornings during winter. There is a pregnant pause after he says. “Yeah.” Bobbing his head in a ‘yes’. You shake your head slowly, an amused breath leaving your nose as your nerves buzz with memories past.

You sigh, assessing him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what exactly he’s hiding beneath that elaborately organized talk of his. But the man is a vault, hiding behind dark eyes that threaten to reel you in again. It has you playing with your tongue, curling it against the insides of your mouth before smacking your lips. “Was there really any job for me to begin with?” You retort. 

Shiu Kong smiles, his carefully crafted demeanor crumbling in the face of the woman he’s slowly beginning to fall for. “There wasn’t.” He says bashfully.

—

@angelshub @public-safety-network @underratedcharactercorner

[kar1nsworldx]

Chrismd with a massive crush on arsenal or Chelsea super league player 😩

Eyes on the target

pairing: ChrisMD x f!reader Instagram!AU SUMMARY: fans slowly realise that a certain youtuber has a crush on their favourite female football player requested: yessir! my apologies anon that it took so long to post, but I really hope that you like this! I tryed to write it as long as i could x AUTHOR'S NOTE: loved writing this and I hope anon that you got what you wanted! Please do send more requests, I'd love to write more <3

ˋ°•*���➷ 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 🧸ྀི

ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩

y/n l/n

liked by arsenalwfc, ksi and 67, 552 others

y/n l/n: what a night to be a gunner 😍

tagged: @arsenalwfc

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COMMENTS;

leahwilliamsonn: get it ❣️

bethmead_: iconic night? I think yes xxx

ksi: went to the game, absolute banger of a goal

y/n l/n: haha tysm, big fan of your lots videos x

use4r: lmaoo did not expect ksi to be here 💀💀

kimlittle1990: a screamer was scored tonight 💋

y/n l/n: all thanks to you 😍😍

katie_mccabe11: ❤

caitlinfoord: ❤

laiacodina5: ❤

y/nily: what a player

user101: were so happy to have you y/n, welcome to the club <3

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y/n l/n

liked by caitlinfoord, chrismd10 and 72,832 others

y/n l/n: thank you everybody for such a wonderful night and season!! much love for you all - 24/25. see you soon ❣️

tagged: @arsenalwfc

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COMMENTS;

drinkprime: 🔥🔥🔥

caitlinfoord: 🫂🫂🫂

user777: y/n do you accept my hand in marrige? 🤲💍

y/n l/n: mmmm maybe one day, but atm I think I have someone on my mind, I'm sorry 🫂

user777: AHHHHH YOU REPLIED HOLY SHIT

useroo: who is on your mind exactly miss y/n?? 🤨🤨

y/n l/n: mmm i don't know, I think I'll keep that a secret for now 🤭😚🤫

useroo: ULQDBDIXCIAOKSBCJCJJXNDBEJOWJDNC

y/nmarryme: y/n i love you 🗣

arsenalwfc: thank you y/n!

chrismd10: miss l/n everybody 💪🔥

y/n l/n: chriss 💪😍

xeuserxe: umm.... okay 🤨

us3r: the emonji combo????????

katie_mccabe11: the woman herself, y/n l/n 💋😍

y/n l/n: katie my love 💋💋💋

katie_mccabe11: 🫂🫂🫂

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y/n l/n

liked by chrismd10, miniminter and 56,892 others

y/n l/n: just because the season ended dosen't mean my love for football did ☺️ new youtube video coming out in 3 days everybody xxx 🌟

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COMMENTS;

xeuserxe: AHHHH can't wait to see it!!! 😚

user111: mmmmmm whos that in the third picture? 🤨🤨🤨

y/n l/n: you'll find out soon enough xx

user111: 🤨🤨🤨

drinkprime: 🔥🔥🔥

y/n l/n: prime 🤝 me

ksi: hell yeah ❤

us3r: sidemen x y/n video when???!???

sidemen: 👀🤫

useroo: WAIT WHAT

chrismd10: sick video coming out soon 🔥

y/n l/n: yessir 🗣

userly: chris how would you know that its a good video 🤨🤨🤨

usermybeloved: something is going on between them I just know it

laiacodina5: you just can't stay away from the stadium can you?

y/n l/n: you know I can't lovely 😚

user505: MOTHERRRR 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

y/n l/n: CHILDDDD 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

user505: OHMYGOD YOU ACTUALLY RESPONDED I AM SCREAMING WHAT THE FUCK AAHWWHDUCEHJCCHHCHCHDHJC

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chrismd10

liked by y/n l/n, georgeclarkeey and 562,777 others

chrismd10: England's national darlings and @y/n l/n

tagged: @bukayosaka87 @y/n l/n

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COMMENTS;

y/n l/n: Christopher count your days

chrismd10: yes dear, of course dear ❤

user444: LMAOOOO WHAT

userly: AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA

useredup: istg somethings deffinitly up theyre fighting like an old married couple

bukayosaka87: ❤

y/n l/n: my photo creds??? where????

chrismd10: sorry gorgeous, forgot to mention that ❤

y/n l/n: mhm, sure sure 🙄❤

user777: THE HEARTS??? "GORGEOUS"????? WHAT IS HAPPENING

useroo: this was not on my 2024 bingo card

miniminter: lucky bastard

theobaker_: @y/n l/n be advised that prick never gives photo credits

y/n l/n: thank you for the information theo x

chrismd10: mate shut up

arthurtv: can I come next time? I want to met y/n too :(

chrismd10: no

y/n l/n: christopher you better bring him too next time

chrismd10: yes ma'am

arthurtv: yay!

y/n l/n: 🫂

xeuserxe: BAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

user505: y/n is becoming arthurs parent confirmed

us3r: I love them

userly: AGHHHHHH THE CAT IS SO CUTE WTF????????

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arthurtv

liked by georgeclarkeey, tobjizzle and 102,732 others

arthurtv: mama y papa - chris actually took me to meet the legend herself, y/n l/n!! 🎉

tagged: @y/n l/n @chrismd10 @mycoffee:)

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COMMENTS;

y/n l/n: ARTHURRRRRRRR :))))) 🫂🫂🫂🫂

arthurtv: Y/NNNNNNNNNN :))))) 🫂🫂🫂🫂

chrismd10: why are you never this nice to me

y/n l/n: fuck off chris

chrismd10: ...

user111: AAWHWHHAHSBXJC THEYRE SO CUTE

user101: I LOVE THEM BAHAHAHHAHAHAHA

chrismd10: yea yea youre welcome mate

georgeclarkeey: boyfriend come see me soon :(

arthurtv: george were not boyfriends! but yes i'll come over tomorrow (:

reevhd: cuties

user505: MAMA Y PAPA, MAMA Y PAPA

useredup: arthur became chris's and y/n's offical child, its confirmed

y/nily: arthurtv thank you for this beautiful pictures of y/n

user777: y/n once again I am asking, do you accept my hand in marrige 💍🤲

chrismd10: she does not.

user777: AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA WTF?????

xeuserxe: JELOUS CHIRS????? HELLO????

useroo: I love how Arthur tagged his coffee in the 3rd picture :((((( 🫂

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y/n l/n

liked by jackgrealish, laiacodina5 and 102,652 others

y/n l/n: to my suprise my photographer isn't such a shitty photographer as I thought he'd be

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COMMENTS;

user444: MOTHER IS MOTHERING

chrismd10: 🔥🔥🔥

user101: BAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA SAME CHRIS SAME

useredup: chris youre so real for that

y/n l/n: 😍

useroo: and may we know who this photographer is?

useroo: and do we know of him by any chance???

y/n l/n: 🤷‍♀️🤫🤭

useroo: AGHHHHHH Y/N SAY SOME ACTUAL INFORMATION PLEASE

y/n l/n: nuh uh

useroo: FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK MEEEEEEEE

useredup: @useroo is having a mental breakdown, love to see it

useroo: 😐

laiacodina5: pretty girl

y/n l/n: says you! xxx

katie_mccabe11: literally marry me

y/n l/n: 💋💋💋

chrismd10: im suprised hes even dealing with you considering youre quite a prick

y/n l/n: oh fuck off ya twat

chrismd10: my point has been proven ladies and gentlemen, goodnight

y/n l/n: shut the fuck up (affectionate)

userly: #fav-old-married-couple

user444: i love them

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chrismd10

liked by calfreezy, behzingagram and 232,752 others

chrismd10: theres a silly goose in the last picture, spoiler alert; it's not me!

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COMMENTS;

behzingagram: peng

y/n l/n: 😍

s1demenl0ver: HAHAHAHAHA LITERALLY ME

user101: Y/N IS SO FUCKING REAL

useroo: hm.. 😶🤨

chrismd10: 🔥🔥🔥

calfreezy: brother ditched us

userly: ARE YALL SEEING THE 3RD PIC?????????

user505: I AM LIKE WHO THE FUCK IS THAT WITH HIM?????????

userly: I DONT HAVE A CLUE

useroo: AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

theburntchip: what a man

y/n l/n: I feel bad for that poor girl, because shes the one dealing with YOU, ya fucking twat

chrismd10: shut up ya prick

userly: as I said, their my #fav-old-married-couple

wroetoshaw: nice mate

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chrismd10 added to their story;

⤷ y/n l/n liked chirsmd10's story! ♡

⤷ y/n l/n: twat

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y/n l/n added to their story;

⤷ chrismd10: I literally hate you

⤷ y/n l/n: Ily2!

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lionesses

liked by vikkstagram, calfreezy and 532,477 others

lionesses: we proudly announce that the lionesses have qualified for the euros, thanks to y/n l/n's hattrick! ❤

tagged: @y/n l/n

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COMMENTS;

arsenalwfc: y/n l/n everybody! ❤

y/n l/n: 💋💋💋

chrismd10: LETS GOOOO Y/N!!!! @y/n l/n 🔥

y/n l/n: CHRISSSSSSSSSS 😚❣️💋

behzingagram: get inn 💪

arthurtv: Y/NNNNNNNN 🌟

y/n l/n: ARTHUR 🫂🫂🫂

calfreezy: thats how its done 💪🙏

katie_mccabe11: MISS Y/N EVERYONE

y/n l/n: love ya irish 😚 🇨🇮

leahwilliamsonn: love ya @y/n l/n ❤❤❤

y/n l/n: love you too bae 😍

laiacodina5: thats my girl!!

y/n l/n: 🫂🫂🫂

theburntchip: yes lass 💪

georgeclarkeey: yessir

ksi: 🙏

tobjizzle: ❤

philfoden: congrats! 💙

jackgrealish: well done ladies 💙💙

rico.lewis: 💙

wroetoshaw: very nice

kylewalker2: 💙

johnstones5: 💙

miniminter: 🔥

drinkprime: thats how its done 🔥

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y/n l/n

liked by arsenalwfc, arthurtv and 60,854 others

y/n l/n: Pre-season in the states 🇺🇲

tagged: @arsenalwfc @kyracooneyx

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COMMENTS;

usermybeloved: y/n in her editing era 🔥

user007: lets goooo

arthurtv: good luck y/n!

y/n l/n: thank you arthur!

arthurtv: :)

chrismd10: yea yea good luck ya prick 🔥

y/n l/n: thank you twat 😚

kyracooneyx: 💪💪💪

arsenalwfc: glad to have you back l/n! 😉🙌

theobaker_: lets gooooooo arsenal ❤

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y/n l/n

liked by chrismd10, drinkprime and 91,576 others

y/n l/n: Third kit is a charm ❤ #coyg

tagged: @arsenal @arsenalwfc @adidasfootball

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COMMENTS;

userly: stunning stunning girl xx

useredup: ahhhhhh you look so good!!!

adidasfootball: 💪😉

chrismd10: fucking peng

y/n l/n: 💋💋💋

user101: OH???!?????? 🤨👀

us3r: EXCUSE ME

user2.0: OHMAGAWD

drinkprime: 🔥🔥🔥

arsenal: looking good miss l/n 💪

y/nily: y/n look bad in a kit challange (impossible)

user777: y/n pls marry me? 💍🤲

chrismd10: she says no xx

user101: BAHHAHAHAHAHA CHRIS ILY

useroo: BAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA

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y/n l/n

liked by chrismd10, georgeclarkeey and 78,237 others

y/n l/n: is mister pickles 🥒 an icon? sources suggest that he is (sources; me, chrismd, arthurtv, georgeclarkey)!

tagged: @chrismd10 @arthurtv @georgeclarkeey

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COMMENTS;

chrismd10: hes more iconic than you thats for sure

y/n l/n: youre going to lose your privilege to see pickles if you continue to do this christopher

chrismd10: yes ma'am, sorry ma'am

xouserxo: AAAAAAAAA I LOVE YOU TWO SO MUCH SJX

arthurtv: I'd say the sources are correct!

georgeclarkeey: that dog is one sassy little dude. i love him

xeuserxe: AHHHH HES ADORABLE

caitlinfoord: pickles is the best (:

user505: "all hail pickles" we say in unison 🗣🗣🗣

useredup: PICKLEEEEES 👹👹👹👹

y/n l/n: back off, pickles is scared 🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺

theburntchip: what a distinguished fellow

arsenalwfc: were missing the lil man on the pitch

chrismd10: btw i will be stealing him

y/n l/n: cunt

user007: AHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA

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y/n l/n

liked by chrismd10, chloekelly and 137,699 others

y/n l/n: oui oui bonjour 🧸☁️

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COMMENTS;

chrismd10: do you even know what that means?

y/n l/n: En fait, je comprends ce que ça veut dire, espèce d'idiot - TRANSLATION; Actually, I understand what that means, you idiot

chrismd10: hot.

y/n l/n: HAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHA

xouserxo: AHHHHH PARIS 🎀🎀🎀🎀

user111: are we not going to talk about the fifth picture...?

useroo: mmm y/n whos that in the fifth picture? 🤨

y/n l/n: mmm i thinks it's..... nonya business 🤫😍😍😍😍

useroo: 😐😐😐

useredup: @useroo is so done w y/n's shit 💀😭

chloekelly: pretty ♡

y/n l/n: AGHHHHH CHLOE I LOVE YOU DBJXCLUXEFG

user007: y/n youre so real for that xjxnc 😭

user444: paris is really the city of love, right @y/n l/n ... 🤨

y/n l/n: deffinitly!! 🤭🤭🤭🤭

kyracooneyx: happiness is a good luck on you. so is being in love

y/n l/n: off with your head, youve already said to much

userly: BAHAHHAHAHAHAHA

us3r: LMAOOOOOOO KYRA GIVE US MORE INFO PLEASE

kyracooneyx: well you deffinitly know him

y/n l/n: KYRAAAAAAAAAAA

useredup: OHMYGOD I THINK MY SUSPISONS HAVE BEEN CONFIRMED THANK YOU KYRA!!!!

chrismd10: 📸📸

y/n l/n: 💋💋

y/nily: 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

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chrismd10

liked by behzingagram, wroetoshaw and 206,554 others

chrismd10: as the missus said, "oui oui bonjour 🧸"

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COMMENTS;

y/n l/n: do YOU know what that means? 😐🤨

chrismd10: oui

theburntchip: smooth fella smooth

calfreezy: nice going mate

behzingagram: happy for you ya twat

tobjizzle: ❤

y/n l/n: ily

chrismd10: ily2

Comments have been restricted.

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y/n l/n

liked by chrismd10, zerkaa and 707,633 others

y/n l/n: god its so hard to be in a relationship with such a lovable twat ❤

tagged: @chrismd10

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y/n l/n: love ya @chrismd10

chrismd10: even more than pickles?

y/n l/n: know your fucking limits.

us3r: BAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA

bambinobecky: 🥳🥳

caitlinfoord: ❣️❣️❣️

laiacodina5: whoooooooo 🌟🌟🌟

katie_mccabe11: happy for you doll xxx

y/n l/n: @useroo so it looks like nonya business was actually mr. chrismd (: sorry for all the caused breakdowns xxx

useroo: fuck me im so happy but also fuck you coudn't you have announced this before all my breakdowns miss y/n

y/n l/n: nope! 😛😝😜🤪

useroo: 😐❤

useredup: AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

xouserxo: HELL YEAAAAH

arthurtv: mama y papa

y/n l/n: hello child <3!!!

chrismd10: hello.. child.

arthurtv: 😄😁

theburbtchip: about damn time

tobjizzle: soo happy for you guys ❤

y/n l/n: thank you tobi!!! ❣️

user007: WAR IS OVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER

user777: oh.. so thats why you wont take my hand in marrige :( BUT YAY SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS

userly: IT FINALLY HAPPENED FUCK YEAAAAS

user444: YIPPIE YIPPIE YIPPIE YIPPIE YIPPIE

user111: MOTHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

user101: *screams in single*

usermybeloved: BEST COUPLE IN 2024 CONFIRMED

y/nily: ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

chrismd10: love you too darling ❤

y/n l/n: YAYAYAYAY

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chrismd10

liked by miniminter, arthurnfhill and 1,572,684 others

chrismd10: love you to ya prick

tagged: @y/n l/n

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COMMENTS;

ksi: congrats bro

chrismd10: thanks ksi

tobjizzle: ❤

theburntchip: as I written before, about damn time

callux: 🎉🎉

wroetoshaw: im suprised ya fucking bagged her mate, bloody hell well done

chrismd10: thanks harry

zerkaa: 💚

arthurtv: my parents are finally together :)

arthurnfhill: im impressed

miniminter: 👏👏👏

behzingagram: how the fuck did you bag her

chrismd10: actually quite easily for your information you fat prick

vikkstagram: 🌟🌟🌟

calfreezy: sap

chrismd10: shut the fuck up ya long dick

calfreezy: midget

georgeclarkeey: sigh, ive lost another boyfriend 😞

y/n l/n: it's okay pookie we'll share ❤

chrismd10: ...i did not consent to this.

us3r: my childhood youtuber getting together with my favourite female footballer was not on my 2024 bingo card

useroo: about fucking time.

s1demenl0ver: 🥳🥳🥳

useredup: congrats guys 👏

user111: ❤

user007: I AM LITERALLY SO HAPPY OHMYGOD

user777: @chrismd10 will you ask y/n if she'll take my hand in marrige 💍🤲

chrismd10: she says no, AGAIN.

useredup: AHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHA

user444: YASSSSSS

user101: nahh but honestly chris takes really good pictures

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y/n l/n added to their story;

⤷ chrismd10 liked y/n l/n's story! ♡

⤷ chrismd10: I literally posted a cute little photodump of you and you're posting this??? Ya fucking prick

⤷ y/n l/n: l love you too ya twat! Also let me post our child ❤

⤷ chrismd10: yeah yeah whatever. i love you too ya prick ❤

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chrismd10

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurtv and 876, 543 others

chrismd10: it's possible that she likes her caps more than me..

tagged: @y/n l/n

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chrismd10: just so you all know I am not a sap, I did not know she'd post arthur on her story the moment id post her okay?? fuck off ya twats

behzingagram: sap

chrismd10: shut the fuck up

Comments have been restricted.

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y/n l/n added to their story;

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[lunamadhatter99]

All for the cameras

Chapter 1

Finnnick Odair x Fem!reader

So... here's the first chapter of my Finnick series. I hope you'll like it and comment if you want to be tagged in the next chapters.

I warn you, it's a slow burn with LOTS of tension. But I think it's going to be worth it in the end. ❤️❤️❤️

Chapter summary: Y/n is the Capitol's Princess. Everybody in the Capitol loves her... unfortunately for her. This first chapter is a little introduction about her role as a "support mentor".

Chapter warnsings: mention of rape, prostitution, and... it's the Hunger Games... what can you expect.

The Victory Tour is probably the one thing I like about the Hunger Games. The attention of the Capitol isn't directly at me, but at the Victor in question, especially the pervs' attention.

Everyone thinks that being President Snow's protégé is like being Capitol's Princess, well... that's just what the cameras catch, but it really isn't. I am no different from someone living in the districts.

I am a slave like anyone else.

Even though I won't have to deal with the creeps at the Capitol during the tour, I still have a job to do, I can't exactly let out a sigh of relief.

This tour is probably the hardest one I've ever had to experience. Turning a hunter into an actress for the Capitol is no easy job.

Katnis has many skills... many, but pretending to be in love with someone isn't her best. Unfortunately, her life, anyone's life, actually depends on it.

Snow made it clear to me.

I arrive in district 12 with Effie and the rest of the crew, ready to help the two victors make everything as believable as possible.

I decided to go to Peeta first, while Effie and Cinna went to Katniss.

"Yes?" Peeta calls from behind the door.

"It's Y/n," I answer.

He immediately opens the door to let me and his stylist in and pulls me in a big hug.

"I'm happy to see you," he says, almost relieved.

"Well, it's my job, pretty boy," I pull away with a smile, "how do you feel today?"

He takes a moment to answer.

"I'm okay, I guess, nervous too,"

"You'll be fine, trust me. You're a natural." I try to lighten the mood. He does chuckle, but I think it's not to make me feel bad. "Did Haymitch tell you what to expect, or did he offer a drink?"

"A bit of both," he actually chuckles this time, "more of the latter, but yeah."

"Good," I let out a small laugh too, "I guess a good thing about your situation is that maybe you two can help each other out."

"If she stopped treating me like a wounded puppy..." he bitterly says, shrugging.

"Yeah, well, try talk to her. Your situation is already hard as it is, dealing with it on your own... it's suicide."

He nods, so I decide to let his stylist work and go see how Katniss is doing.

"Hey there," I say once I enter the room Katniss is getting ready in.

"Hi," she says.

"How are you?" I ask, sitting on a chair.

"I've been better," she forces a smile in my direction.

"I figured," I send her a sympathetic smile in return.

I look around the studio, the atmosphere is quite cold despite the luxury, we are still in 12 after all. My eyes stop suddenly on the desk, that was pushed a little out of the way to make more room.

"That's..." I start, my throat feels tight all of a sudden, "That's a pretty rose."

I notice Katniss tensing at the observation.

Confirming my suspicion.

Snow's been here.

"Yeah," she flatly says. She turns to look at me, with a look that seems suspicious... or cautious, more likely.

I respond with a sympathetic look. Hopefully, she will understand I'm just as tense as her. She seems to, because she half smiles at me.

"It's showtime," Effie cheers, walking in.

"Break a leg," I say, hugging myself as I watch her heading to the door.

I take a deep breath and decide I need a drink, and the only person who can help me is a certain victor.

I sneak out from the back and walk to Haymitch's house.

"Haymitch?" I call as I knock at his door.

"It's open," I hear his grumpy tone from the inside, so I let myself in and look around for Haymitch.

"Oh!" He calls from the kitchen, "it's the Princess herself! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Care to help a lady out? I need a drink,"

"Take whatever you want," he offers, taking a sip of his own drink.

I look around at the variety of bottles on display, finding my drink of choice. I take the whole bottle.

"You don't mind if I don't use a glass, do you?" I say, sitting down with him.

"Make yourself at home," he actually chuckles at that, and I soon follow after taking a big sip from the bottle.

This is what I like more about this tour, Haymitch's company. We can just sit in total silence and still be able to give each other comfort. He's one of the very few people who knows the truth behind the Princess facade, and I know about what happened to his family.

"Ready for the tour, princess?" He suddenly asks me.

"It's the only time I get to feel like my own person again, so... yeah, I'm ready," I answer with a bitter smile, "what about you?"

"It's gonna be hard for them," he simply says.

"I know," I deeply sigh, taking another big sip, "they need us... and we need them."

Haymitch just nods.

"Things are about to change," he says, almost solemnly, "better keep those eyes open."

I send him a questioning look to which he answers with a wink. Then, a knock on the door prevents him from elaborating if he even wanted to.

"Guess it's time to go," he announes, clapping his hands.

"Let the show begin," I take one last gulp before following him out and towards the train station with everyone else.

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

We're heading to the first stop of this journey, distric 11. I already know this particular stop is gonna be hard for my Victors, especially Katniss. I take notice of her quietness and the tension in her body as Effie keeps in rumbling about all the fabulous things this tour will provide.

"Fabulous food, fabulous wine, the massages, spa treatments." She explains, "I told them nothing but the best for my two victors. It all needs to be..."

"Fabulous?" Haymitch finishes for her with a hint of teasing in his voice, mimicking her demeanour. I try to hide my smile into my cup in tea.

"Exactly." Effie answer, not bothered by him, "Now, the schedule is a bit of a bear. 12 days, 12 districts. But it's mostly parties, celebrations, adoring fans to greet you at every stop along the way, and then wrap it up on the Capitol. All you need to do is give a few speeches, wave at the crowds, and enjoy your time in the spotlight. You've earned it."

Oh shit.

"What did you say?" Katniss, basically, demands.

Here we go.

"Katniss." Peeta calls, trying to calm her or make her drop the subject.

"I said, 'Enjoy it, Katniss, you've earned it.'" Effie repeats.

"By killing people." Katniss scoffs and stands up to leave, ignoring Effie's weak try at scolding her.

There's silence.

"Well, isn't this a good start?" I say, holding my hand out to Haymitch, who catches on and passes me a bottle of whiskey chuckling.

I ignore Effie's glare and pour some alcohol into my tea.

My eyes lock with Peeta's, so I take the opportunity to glance at the direction Katniss went to silently telling him to go check on her. He nods and gets up to follow Katniss.

Haymitch follows him with his eyes, then turns to me.

"Are you plotting something?" He asks.

"Not at all." I simply answer, "they need to stop avoiding each other like the plague when they're not on TV. It's better to pretend to be in love with a friend than a stranger."

He simply looks at me nodding, impressed.

Effie lets out an annoyed puff and walks away.

Once she's out of the carriage, I turn towards Haymitch.

"Anything to say about my eyes?" I ask, hinting at the conversation we had back at his house.

He simply smiles and pours some more alcohol into his glass.

"Just keep 'em open, princess," he says, "wide open, guard up."

I roll my eyes, "Alright, alright. I will. Anything else you wanna share?"

"Did you hear from a certain fisherman?" Haymitch asks, instead of answering my questions.

"I don't know what you're talking about. " I say shrugging, and I take a sip from my cup.

"Mh," he hums, "isn't he the first Victor you helped train?"

"Why all these questions?" I slightly snap.

"No reason. This is the first time we get to properly bond, don't wanna waste it,"

"You want to bond?" I let out an incredulous laugh, "why?"

"I just proclaimed myself your... father figure," he opens his arms to present himself.

"Okay..." I trail off, standing up, "Whatever you say,"

I start to walk off, too, shaking my head slightly laughing.

"Oh, c'mon!" I hear him yell and laugh.

I shake my head while I'm heading to my room to rest a bit before we arrive in district 11.

As I lay on the bed, my mind can't help but wander to said fisherman.

Finnick freaking Odair. Winner of the 65th Hunger Games.

That was my 4th time assisting the mentors in preparing the tributes for the games. At the time, Snow wanted the people to see me more involved in the making of the games since they 'love' me so much. The president saw this as an opportunity, I saw it as a punishment, having to help train tributes, some of them being my age only to see them get killed. Then the 65th Hunger Games came, and so did Finnick. We were the same age, bonding was inevitable, even though he was cautious... which was understandable, but we managed before he had to go into the arena.

When he won, I was the happiest I've ever been. Then when he came back he was changed, again, that's understandable, but he started to push me away... with no explanation.

Then we both turned 16. Then we were forced to be close again.

----------

A knock on the door pulled me away from my thoughts, Haymitch's voice warning me we had arrived in district 11, and it was time to go.

We get out of the train, expecting some people celebrating and stuff like that, but nothing of sort. Effie is quick to express her disapproval.

They lead us to a car and let us in, where Effie start to explain the situation to Katniss and Peeta.

"The mayor will make some introductory remarks. And then you just have to say a few words." She says, "it's customary, of course, to give a brief eulogy to the district's fallen Tributes. For 11, that's Thresh and Rue. Here are the speeches."

Effie hands some piece of paper for them to take, I see Katniss' expression falling even more at the mention of Rue, predictable, so Peeta offers to be the one doing the talking. Katniss' grateful face almost breaks my heart, I'm... sort of used to see children die in the games, she wasn't... worst of all, she built a friendship with her.

"You got this." I say to them both, Peeta sends me a kind smile, while Katniss nods and takes a deep breath.

We arrive at the Justice Building, where we all wait for the mayor to call the Victors out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Victors of the 74th Hunger Games. Katnis Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!"

Once they are out, we get to see them through a screen.

"Thank you," Peeta says into the microphone, while Katnis is staring at something, I can imagine it's Rue's family. "We're honoured to be here with you today. And to be with the families of your fallen Tributes."

There's a long pause, Peeta glances at the cards in his hand and... put them down...

"He put down the cards." Effie gasps.

Haymitch tries to shush her, and she slightly snaps, "Why do I bother?"

I lock eyes with Cinna, who's standing next to me, we share a questioning look before looking back at the screen.

"Though they fought and lived with honour and dignity until the end... both Thresh and Rue were so young. But our lives aren't just measured in years. They're measured I the lives of the people we touch around us. For myself, for Katniss, we know that without Rue and without Thresh, we wouldn't be standing here today." He really is a natural. "So in recognition of that, knowing that it in no way can make up for your loss, we'd like to donate one month of our winnings to the families of the Tributes, every year, for the rest of out lives."

Oh, oh...

"Oh shit," Haymitch comments, and I bring a hand up to my open mouth shocked.

"Can he do that?" Cinna asks, though, I think he already knows the answer.

"He can't. But he did."

"Why doesn't he just stick to the cards?" Effie sighs.

Peeta than thanks the audience, looks at Katniss, and starts to walk back inside.

Katniss does just a few steps backwards, but she keeps staring at Rue's family.

Then, she gets closer to the microphone.

"Oh..."

"I just wanted to say I didn't know Thresh. I only spoke to him once. He could've killed me, but instead, he showed me mercy. That's a debt I'll never be able to repay." Then her eyes are back on Rue's family, " I did know Rue. She wasn't just my allay. She was my friend. I see her in the flowers that grow in the meadow by my house. I hear her in a Mockingjay song. I see her in my sister Prim. She was too young. Too gentle. And I couldn't save her. I'm sorry."

I feel my heart breaking at her words. She's right. She's too fucking right.

Before Katniss could add anything, there's a whistle coming from the crowd.

A very familiar one.

A man does the same salut Katnis did on the arena after Rue's death. Everyone in the crowd soon follows, and the Peacemakers are quick to weapon up and head towards the people, who can't do nothing but clamoring.

They're clearly pointing at the man who started it all.

As Katniss tries to get to him, to stop the Peacemakers, she is sized by two of them and forced back inside.

The man was dragged on the stage, the people are screaming, terrified. Before the doors can close we see one of the guards shoot and kill the man.

"Fuck!" I turn around, Cinna a gently rubs my back. I hear Katniss screaming and trashing around, I look back at them and see Haymitch gathering both Peeta and Katniss to follow him, he nods at mw to do the same and I do.

Once we are out of sight and ears Haymitch just snaps.

"You two have a very simple task." He scolds them, angry.

"I never meant for anyone to get killed," Katnis cries, "he has to know that."

"What are you talking about? Who has to know what?" Haymitch asks.

Snow...

"Snow. He came to see me. He's worried about rebellion in the districts. He thinks that they don't believe our love story," she explains, breathless.

I run my hand through my hair, frustrated.

"So he wants you to make them believe it? Does he thinks it will calm this shit down?" I ask and Katnis nods.

"You know, Katniss, you should told me that before I went put there, and tried to give these people the money." It's Peeta's turn to snap.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. He threatened to kill my family." She explains.

"Well, I have family, too" He replies, almost annoyed at her, "Okay? People that I need to protect."

"What about them? Who protect them?" Haymitch pressures.

I shake my head, still shocked and still infuriated.

"Katniss, what were you thinking?" Haymitch keeps going.

"I was thinking about Rue. Haymitch, please... please, just help me get through this trip. Please just help us get through this." Katniss begs, crying even more.

"This trip? Girl, wake up." He snaps his fingers to emphasise his words, "this trip doesn't end when you get back home. You never get off this train. You two are mentors now. That means that every year, they're gonna drag you out, and broadcast the details of your romance. Every year, your private life becomes theirs. From now on, your job is to be a distraction so people forget what the real problems are." He explains perfectly the 'life of a victor', it's so true it's nauseating.

"So what do we do?" Peeta asks, already composed him.

"You're gonna smile," I say, "stick to the cards Effie put effort into. And be the happy, forever in love couple the Capitol thinks you are... you'll get used to it." I say the last part with a heavy heart, knowing they don't deserve it. No one does.

Haymitch brings Katniss is for a hug, trying to reassure her, I squeeze Peeta's arm.

"We'll help you."

Peeta gives me a grateful smile, then they both take a deep breath and we all head back down.

"Eyes open, princess." Haymitch whispers to me, gently patting my back. I, again, look at him confused and just keep on following everyone back to the train.

And sticked to the cards they did.

----------

I feel like I can't breathe, I'm constricted, I can't move.

I look up and see the blue-haired guy on top of me, he's probably enjoying my terrified expression, because he smirks, he shushes me as if he's dealing with a child. He thinks he's being sweet and reassuring, while he's the complete opposite.

I try to push him away, in vain. It's like moving a wall... yet he's not that much bigger...

"Sshh, sweetie... it's okay, I'll take care of you." He says, caging me in even more.

I attempt to move back, but he's faster, he opens my legs with his in one quick motion.

----------

I wake up, shaking and panting. My heart is beating so fast I'm sure it's going to explode. I shake my head.

"Just a nightmare, just a nightmare," I keep repeating to myself like a mantra.

I get up from the bed and head to the bathroom where I wash my face to wake me up more. I look at my reflection and again I repeat that it was just a nightmare.

I get dressed, I figure there's no point in going back to sleep, I don't think I would be able too, so I exit my room and head to the restaurant car where I find Haymitch. Not so surprising.

He looks up as soon as he hears me, his expression almost asleep, but when his eyes meet mine, his expression turns into a worried one.

I sadly smile at him as I sit next to him, the car is still quiet dark except for the dim light coming from a small lamp next to him.

"Who was it this time?" He asks, he's trying to not make it look like it bothers him, but I know he's worried.

"The general's son," I say monotonously.

"Aah," he sighs, "the one with blue hair?"

"Yep."

"The loyal one." He nods to himself.

"The very one, the first too." I sigh, leaning back in the armchair. "The asshole thinks that just because we 'lost it' together means he owns me."

"Was that his first time too?" I know he wants to laugh at him, but he keeps it too himself, this time.

"Yap. His father thought it was 'right about time' so he talked to Snow, who, oh so kindly, accepted. Next thing I know I'm treated like a present. Everytime he achieved something big, his dad paid for my company, every birthday too." I sigh again, more deeply, bouncing my leg anxiously. "When he got a job, I was with him. Every month."

Haymitch takes a deep breath and hands me a bottle, which I gladly accept taking a big swig from it. He then takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly, then lets go.

"He got daddy's job."

"Oh yeah. He couldn't do anything without daddy's power," I scoff out a laugh, Haymitch does too.

We, then, keep silent until it's time for everybody to come I'm and have breakfast and get ready for the final stop.

The Capitol.

[soaps-mohawk]

Important Things For This Blog

I wanted to make a post with some rules/important things to know for this blog. It will be linked in my pinned navigation post. I know some of you have been asking for this and I apologize for it taking this long to do this.

Probably the most important thing (which is sad that this is something I have to say) but

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES DO YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION TO USE MY FICS FOR AI

If you see someone using my fics or claiming to have my permission please report them because I will NEVER give permission for my fics to be used for AI

Okay, now that that's out of the way, I wanted to put down some reminders/rules (not that I've had many issues to date) but just in case:

This is an 18+ blog with explicit content. I am trusting a lot of you to be honest and stay away if you are not 18. This is not a minor friendly space.

I am one person running this blog. It's just me, a real person behind all of this.

I am in Pacific Standard Time (PST)/Pacific Daylight Time (PDT) depending on the time of year, so any time I talk about days, I'm meaning that day for me if I forget to add the timezone.

I take a break from this blog on Thursdays (PST), though that can sometimes start as early as Wednesday afternoons and can extend into Friday mornings.

Again, I am a human being with my own struggles and some days are not good days. I try to avoid interacting too much those days, but sometimes I'm not smart enough to do that. So if I seem off or rude or snappy, I do apologize. I always feel guilty after I get back into my normal head space.

I invoke the right to delete any ask that I do not want to answer, or that makes me uncomfortable.

As point number 2 states, I am just one person, and I get a lot of asks some days, so if your ask/comment/reblog etc isn't responded to right away, it's either because I didn't get it/didn't see it, or because I have 30 others in my inbox that I haven't answered yet too.

I try and avoid posting asks/reblogs with spoilers right away for those that don't/can't read the chapter right away. I tend to hold off for a couple days so if I haven't responded to you, that's also probably why.

Responses that have spoilers and are posted the days I post spoilers are tagged with "crcb spoilers" so block that tag if you don't want to see them or have anything spoiled, though after those days I stop tagging things with that tag.

I use my queue a lot, especially on days where I don't plan to be on Tumblr much, or days I post spoilers. I try to remember to use the tag "queue 06" when I'm using the queue.

Regarding CRCB exclusively, I have taken a lot of time to make and organize several lore/FAQ masterlists. If you ask a question that has already been answered there (which to be fair I do miss adding some sometimes) I will direct you there to avoid repeating myself.

The navigation post pinned on my page is there for a reason. Please utilize it.

If you would like to be on my taglist, please follow soaps-mohawk-taglist and turn notifications on as I will post there every time I post a new chapter/fic

I do not tolerate any hate or disrespect on this blog, towards me or others. You will be blocked, anon or not.

Please be respectful of me, my rules, my boundaries, and the reminders above, and most importantly, remember there is just one living, breathing human being behind this blog.

Now for the part most of you have been asking for, the things that I'm not comfortable writing. If it's not on this list, or if you are unsure, please ask if it's something I'm comfortable writing. I won't get upset if you ask for clarification.

Pedophilia (including lolicon & shotacon)

Age Play

Beastiality

Detailed Domestic Abuse

Detailed Child Abuse

Emetophilia

Olfactophilia

Scat

Cheating

Rape*

Child Death

Hurt/No Comfort

Pregnancy (Anything in the realm of pregnancy)**

RacePlay

Formicophilia

Pecattiphilia

Some specific violent situations (including ones with kids)

Embarrassment

Animal abuse and death

*It depends on the scenario/my own state of mind at the time. It's not a hard no, but it really just depends.

**I know I've answered some pregnancy (and child death) things in the past but it's just not something I'm comfortable with going forward.

Honestly it's just best to ask if you're unsure, about anything listed above. I'm just asking for everyone to be respectful of me and my rules, as well as everyone else, so we can keep things as they have been.

Have a Gaz just because

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss - Pt.8

Pairing: Minchan x femReader (mention of Changlix)

Word Count: 3478

Summary: Three weeks later, you're still feeling left out. Your therapist suggests communicating your worries to your husbands, but this doesn't go as planned.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, therapy, verbal fight, anxious!chan, min gets defensive

A/N: After part seven I thought I'd be done with one part more tops...well. Once more, there'll be another chapter after this. Ideas/wishes are always welcome, I'll see what I can include🤭🖤

PART SEVEN | PART NINE

Three weeks later 

“And you still don't want your husbands there for the appointments?” your therapist asks kindly. She has been for weeks now. 

“No,” you shake your head firmly. 

“May I ask why?” she asks patiently. 

“Minho has a lot to deal with on his own because he remembers…also, he hates hospitals,” you start and nervously fidget with your hands. “Chan is…different.”

“Different, how?” she responds with another question. 

“Distant is the wrong expression by now. He's trying to show me how much he loves me, but I can tell when he gets overwhelmed. He's still figuring things out, finding his place back home,” you tell, and she nods along, taking some notes. “I just…It's not all bad. He gets enough sleep now, makes sure to eat enough, and takes care of himself. It's just so different from what I remember.”

“And Minho? Is he getting the help he needs?” she asks. 

“Yes, he sees his therapist every two weeks. Weekly, if it's really bad, she always manages to squeeze him in,” you tell her. “He tries to hide it, but he still has nightmares. He's able to drive again if he has to, but he gets anxious easily.”

“And where does that leave you?” she asks patiently, nodding at the wooden board between the two of you. There's a figure for Chan and another for Minho, standing close next to each other. Behind them are several smaller figures in darker colors, symbolizing their fears and struggles. And there's you. Yours is smaller than theirs, standing further away as if you're facing them. 

“Alone,” you say, swallowing hard as you notice the distance between the figures. You hadn't thought much about it putting them there but they're painting a clear picture. 

“Are you?” she asks gently. 

“Sometimes,” you nod. “I don't feel like it when I'm alone with one of them. But if it's all three of us…I feel like they don't need me,” you say and subconsciously fondle the tiny head of the figure behind you, symbolizing your negative thoughts. 

“Do you want to change something?” she asks, picking up on it, and you set it between yours and the ones of your husbands. “Add anything?”

“I'm scared of losing them,” you say, and she nods at you, letting you choose another one. You put it next to the one you just moved. 

“May I comment on something?” she asks, and you nod. “You put your husband's fears and struggles behind them. But yours are in front of you, forming a wall between you all. Why's that?”

“Uh…because they've communicated theirs openly with me and are working on them. I didn't tell them I'm scared to lose them or all of the other thoughts running through my head,” you admit. 

“Mhm, so theirs are out in the open…why aren't yours?” she asks patiently, and you drop back into the comfortable chair. 

“I don't know,” you confess. “Maybe because I feel like I can't put more on their shoulders.”

“What happened when Chan told you he's scared to push your boundaries? What happened when Minho panicked?” she asks, flashing you a kind smile. 

“I comforted them, told them it's okay,” you say quietly. 

“And what makes you fear they wouldn't do the same with you?” she asks, making you lower your head a little embarrassed. 

“I don't know,” you admit quietly, feeling tears burn in your eyes. “I should tell them, right?”

She hums gently. “Communication seems to be very important to keep your relationship intact as you're all dealing with certain things.”

-

You're exhausted after your session, but you know you'd have to open up more about your own fears. You follow her outside into the waiting area to pay and frown as you see Chan talking to the receptionist. “Channie?” you ask, confused, and he looks up with a soft smile. 

“Hey, baby girl,” he says sweetly. “I thought I'd come pick you up, I finished early today.”

“Oh,” you nod and open your handbag to get your wallet. Chan introduces himself to your therapist, a warm smile brightening up his gorgeous face. You take out your card, and Chan gently shoves it back inside. 

“Already handled,” he tells you. 

“What? Channie, I had to pay for the whole month today,” you protest. 

“I know,” he nods and gently zips your handbag closed. “It's fine.”

“Thank you,” you nod gently, smiling as his hand finds yours. 

“You got everything?” he asks, and after you nod, you two say goodbye. Once you're in the elevator, Chan pulls you into a strong hug and kisses your hair. “You look like you've been crying. Rough one?” he asks caringly. 

“Yeah,” you nod, burying yourself in his warmth. “Thank you for picking me up, Channie angel.”

“Of course,” he tells you, rubbing your back. 

As you lean into Chan's embrace, you're reminded of the session's revelations. His warmth is reassuring, and it pushes against the shadows of your own unspoken fears. You wonder how to begin sharing them with him, how to bridge the gap that your silence had unknowingly broadened. "I have a lot on my mind," you finally say, your voice muffled against his coat.

Chan's response is soft, filled with his sweet patience. "I'm here whenever you're ready to talk," he assures you, his hand steady on your back. The simplicity of his promise makes something within you ease slightly. Perhaps sharing your inner conflicts wouldn't be as horrible as you feared.

“Thank you,” you nod gently. 

Chan leads you outside the building and to his car, your hand still in his. “I wanted to take you out for coffee, but would you rather go home? Whatever you say is fine, beautiful,” he assures you, and tears brim your eyes. 

“Our favorite spot?” you ask gently. 

Chan smiles sweetly, dimples showing. “Yeah,” he nods, giggling as your face lightens up. 

“I would love to,” you tell him. 

-

When you're back home, the atmosphere shifts as Minho greets you both from the sofa. His smile is shy, a reflection of his ongoing struggles, yet sincere. His eyes light up when he sees you. "Everything okay?" he asks, a subtle concern in his tone.

You nod, squeezing Chan's hand before letting go. "We need to talk, all of us," you say, surprising even yourself with the firmness in your voice. Minho's brow furrows slightly, but he nods, understanding the seriousness of your tone. He gestures towards the empty space next to him. 

As you all sit down, the weight of the moment hangs heavily in the air. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to be as open as possible. "I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed," you begin, your voice stronger than you feel. "Not by you two specifically, but by everything. The fears I've kept to myself are... they're getting heavy."

Chan reaches for your hand again, his touch a silent promise. Minho leans in, ready to listen, to help shoulder the burden you've carried alone for too long. You share your fears—of losing them, of not being enough, of the future that seems so uncertain sometimes. With each confession, the walls you built crumble.

“You know you can always come to us when those thoughts get too much to handle, yeah?” Chan asks gently. 

“You're always there for us, honey, don't forget we're there for you too,” Minho adds agreeingly, gently rubbing your thigh. 

“I know…A lot of it is in my head, but I miss you two,” you admit. “I can't even explain it, but I miss you so much, and I just wish everything would be normal again,” you say, tears brimming your eyes. 

“Y/nnie,” Minho whispers and shakes his head, tears brimming his own eyes. “We have to work with what we got. A lot has happened, and we can't pretend it didn't. We have to find our new normal,” he tells you and timidly takes your hand.

“But we're always here, yeah? You're still our beautiful wife,” Chan chimes in. 

“Well, then start acting like it!” you suddenly burst out, and seeing the hurt and confusion lacing their features you quickly get up. “Start acting like I'm your wife and not just your crush you hold hands with from time to time.” 

“Seriously?” Minho asks dangerously low and Chan swallows, already fearing an outburst of both of you. “Tell me you're joking.”

“I'm not,” you snap at him. “Obviously, I'm not.”

“What the fuck do you need me to do then? What do I have to change, huh?” he snaps right back at you, getting up as well. 

“Guys, please,” Chan tries gently, but you both ignore him. 

“I don't know! But it feels like shit, I'm just some bystander to you two being all lovey-dovey all day!” you burst out. 

“You’re pushing us away, you know that?” Minho retorts, his voice dripping with frustration and hurt. “You say you feel left out, but you've got walls so high, I need a damn ladder to get over them! Every time I try to initiate anything more than the crush behavior, as you put it, you back away.”

“I-” you start, but you can’t form any clear sentence in response. Minho is right, you’ve been denying him to go any further repeatedly.

Chan’s face grows pale, his eyes wide as he watches the confrontation unfold, seemingly frozen in place. “Can we... please not do this?” he stammers, his voice cracking under the strain. “This isn’t helping any of us.”

“You stay out of this!” Minho snaps, turning his glare briefly to Chan. The sharpness in Minho’s tone slices through the tension like a knife, leaving Chan blinking back tears, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to compose himself. “You don’t have to participate in this fight, but let me say my piece.”

“I’m trying to help!” Chan protests weakly, his voice trembling at the thought of you getting into a serious fight. Minho and you almost never fought, but if you did, it was always ugly, hurtful, and fucking loud. He didn’t like it before, but he could barely take it now, getting overwhelmed.  “I don’t want to see us fall apart over misunderstandings and hurt feelings!”

“Well, it’s not just about feelings, Chan!” you shout, your voice breaking as the tears start to fall. “It’s about being seen and heard in this relationship. I feel invisible most days, like I’m just here to fill a space between the two of you! It’s like you don’t care about me.”

Minho blinks at you, and you can tell he needs a moment to process your words. Then he explodes. “If you really feel this way, if everything I do is that useless and meaningless…then I don't know what the fuck I'm still doing here!”

“Minho,” you whisper in shock, and Chan's tears fall freely now. 

“Minho, please don’t say that,” Chan shakes his head, looking at him anxiously. 

“No, seriously, fuck this. Fuck you,” he says harshly, and you know he's trying to cover his hurt with anger. “I don’t care about you, yeah sure,” he goes on. “I stayed by your bedside for weeks, praying that you’d wake up. I have done nothing but respect your boundaries, give you the time you need, and make sure you’re comfortable. What the fuck do you need me to do to think I actually give a fuck about you?!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, and it has both you and Chan flinching heavily. It’s rare he loses composure like this. He’s breathing heavily once he’s done, staring at you with fierce but such vulnerable eyes it makes you sick. He nods to himself as you don’t answer and grabs his phone from the sofa. “You don’t even know what you need. How the fuck am I supposed to, huh?”

“Min, please,” Chan whispers, sensing how hurt his husband truly is behind his mask of anger. 

Minho’s expression softens for a moment, his anger faltering as he sees the tears streaming down his face. “I need a break,” he announces. “I’ll sleep in the guest room; I can’t do this right now.” He shakes his head and meets your eyes for a brief second. “Thanks for the talk,” he says sarcastically as you don’t respond to his prior statements.

You stand still for a second as he leaves before collecting your things as well. 

“Y/nnie,” Chan tries weakly.

“Don’t,” you say sharply, shaking your head. 

Chan flinches as the door to your bedroom slams closed and slumps onto the sofa, biting back a sob. He blindly reaches for his phone and blinks away tears to find his best friend’s number. Felix picks up after the second ring. “Lix, I-I know it’s late-,” he starts weakly.

“Where are you?” he asks worriedly at the distressed sound of his voice. “Do you need me to get you?” he asks, already getting up to search for his keys. His husband shoots him a questioning look, and Felix mouths Chan’s name. Changbin frowns worriedly, getting up as well and grabbing his keys. 

“Can I stay at yours? Just for tonight?” he sniffles helplessly. 

“Of course, Channie,” Felix says soothingly, slipping into his shoes. “You’re at home?” he asks carefully, leaving the house with Changbin right behind him. 

“Yeah…home,” he says, choking on the word. 

“We’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?” he asks gently, waiting for Chan’s quiet hum in response. “Deep breaths, Channie hyung, I’m sure whatever this is it can be fixed.”

“I’m not sure,” he answers shakily. “I’m really not.”

“They got into a fight?” he asks carefully, knowing how much it upset Chan. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. “It was bad, Lix, really, really bad.”

“I’m sorry, Channie,” he says softly. Only a little later Chan meets them in front of the house and they pull him into a tight hug. 

Changbin soothingly rubs his back. “Come on, Channie hyung, let's go,” he gently urges him to the car, handing him a tissue. “You can stay as long as you need to, okay?”

Chan nods and gets into the car, sinking into Felix's arms as the younger one sits down next to him. Felix gently rubs his shoulder and sighs. “It's gonna be okay, Channie.”

Three days later

Waking up, you notice Chan's side of the bed is still made, untouched from the night before. Minho is already downstairs, the clatter of dishes breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the house. As you walk into the kitchen, Minho’s posture stiffens, his usually warm eyes clouded with frustration.

“Good morning,” you say hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper, hoping to ease into the morning peacefully.

Minho nods without meeting your eyes, continuing his task. “Morning,” he replies shortly. 

“I was thinking we could all go out today, maybe get some fresh air together,” you suggest, trying to find a way to get you three to deal with what happened.

Minho pauses, placing a plate down a little too hard. “Chan isn’t feeling well,” he says shortly, finally looking up at you with a mix of irritation and exhaustion in his expression.

“Is it his headache again?”

“Probably,” Minho mutters, turning back to the dishes. “Or maybe it’s just an excuse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, your voice rising slightly in concern.

Minho sighs, a long, tired exhale. “It means maybe he’s just avoiding us. Avoiding this,” he gestures vaguely between the two of you.

“Minho, that’s not fair. You know how much he’s been struggling with everything,” you counter, feeling your heart rate pick up as the beginnings of anger mix with your worry.

“And what about us?” Minho snaps, his composure breaking. “When do we get to talk about how this is affecting us? You’re so focused on Chan. What about me? What about what I need?”

The accusation hits hard, opening a floodgate of emotions you’d both been tiptoeing around. “I’m trying to be here for both of you and fix this!” you exclaim, frustration overtaking your initial intent to keep the peace.

“Well, maybe try a little harder because I don’t feel it!” Minho’s voice escalates, his tone harsher than you’ve ever heard.

“Guys? What’s going on?” Chan’s weak voice comes from the doorway. His usual bright eyes are dim and shadowed with pain.

You both turn, startled, as Chan leans against the frame, looking between you two with a growing sense of dread. “I just needed some air, that’s all,” he murmurs, clearly caught off-guard by the newly thickened tension.

Minho’s expression softens slightly at the sight of Chan, but his frustration is far from appeased. “We’re just talking,” he says, though his voice suggests it was anything but a simple conversation.

Chan glances at you, his eyes searching for an ally. “It doesn’t sound like talking,” he comments softly, his tone hurt.

“You wouldn’t know; you’ve been avoiding us!” Minho’s outburst swiftly redirects the tension back to Chan.

“That’s not fair, Min,” Chan protests, his voice weak but filled with hurt. “I’m just trying not to make things worse.”

“By not talking? By hiding away?” Minho counters, his voice laced with bitterness.

“Enough!” you finally shout, unable to bear it anymore. “This isn’t helping anyone. We’re supposed to be in this together.” Both fall silent, the echo of your shout hanging between you. The air is thick with unsaid things, each of you caught in your own thoughts. “We need to fix this,” you say finally. “We can’t go on like this.”

Chan nods, looking exhausted. “I know,” he agrees quietly.

Minho doesn’t speak; his jaw clenches as he wrestles with his emotions, but his nod is agreement enough. You all sit down at the dinner table, facing each other.

Chan’s voice is gentle as he suggests, “Let’s each say something we feel without interruptions. Just listen to each other. Really listen.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I feel overlooked,” you begin, the words raw but necessary.

“I feel helpless,” Minho adds, his voice thick.

“I’m afraid of losing you both,” Chan admits, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.

The room grows silent as each confession hangs in the air. You all look at each other, the vulnerability shared creating a bridge that had been missing in the chaos of your misunderstandings.

Chan reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice steady despite the emotion. "I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t see how isolated you felt."

Minho exhales deeply, the tension easing from his shoulders as he acknowledges Chan's words. "And I... I've been so focused on not falling apart myself that I forgot to make sure we're all okay," he admits, his gaze shifting between you and Chan, a silent plea for forgiveness in his eyes.

It's your turn to respond, the atmosphere allowing for more open and heartfelt communication. "I've been afraid of burdening you both with my fears," you say, the admission freeing in its own way. "But I see now that keeping them to myself only creates more distance. I need to share more, not less," you continue, feeling a bit lighter with each word. "I need us to really be in this together."

Minho's hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "I've been scared," he admits, his voice cracking slightly. "Scared that pushing too hard or not enough could end up driving you away. But I see now that not communicating is just as damaging."

Chan, still visibly shaken but slowly regaining his composure, adds, "I thought I was protecting you both from my issues, but I was just isolating myself further. I promise to be more present, even when it's hard."

The conversation turns into a lengthy discussion in which each of you takes turns expressing thoughts and emotions that had been buried under daily routines and misunderstandings. It’s not just about voicing grievances; it’s about rediscovering each other's needs and reassessing how to support each other better.

Chan proposes a weekly check-in, a safe space where anything can be discussed without judgment, ensuring that no concern is too small or too trivial to be voiced. Minho suggests more one-on-one time with each of you to strengthen individual bonds that contribute to the health of the collective relationship.

In the following weeks, the impact of that conversation becomes evident. Slowly, the dynamics in your household start to shift. There's a newfound gentleness in your interactions, a deeper consideration for each other's mental spaces, and an active effort to engage without overwhelming one another.

Feeling less isolated, you find the courage to share your smaller daily fears and joys, discovering that these moments of sharing contribute significantly to your feeling of closeness with your husbands. 

In a relationship as complex and intertwined as yours, challenges are inevitable.

PART SEVEN | PART NINE

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

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[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 06)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing--there's a lot of it--like a lot, psychopathic behaviors, being held captive, verbal and physical violence, degrading nicknames, talks of death and unaliving someone, strangulation, PLS READ WITH CAUTION BECAUSE THIS PART IS REALLY GRIM I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING

Word Count: 4200-ish

Tag(s): I'm tagging everyone who requested to be tagged prior to the long hiatus, pls tell me if you'd like to NOT be included in the tag list for future updates, thanks! @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI EVERYONE HOW ARE YOU?? I know this is long overdue, but pls enjoy the new part of love bugs! I'm so happy to be posting again and I hope you like what I've got in plans for this series. I think we only have one or maybe two chapters left for this story (depending whether I want to write an epilogue or not lol) but in the meantime, pls enjoy this part and don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT !!! thank you 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

The bullpen of FBI headquarters was still reeling in the aftermath of a Derek-Morgan-shaped hurricane.

Emily was just about to enter the vicinity again when she heard the tail end of Derek's furious words, right before Hotch had ordered him to retreat.

"What was that about?" Emily asked as she approached Rossi's side, eyes never straying from the two men who soon disappeared into Hotch's office.

Rossi never addressed Emily's question. Instead, he gestured for her--and everybody else in the room--to be quiet with a finger on his lips, before he pressed the unmute button on the telephone.

"Hello?"

The UnSub's head jerked at Rossi's unfamiliar voice. You were barely successful in getting him to calm down following Derek's unexpected outburst, but the sound of Rossi's voice was threatening to throw all of those poor attempts straight out of the window.

"Who is that?" he demanded warily. "Where's Agent Hotchner?"

"He had to step away for a second," Rossi notified. "I'm SSA David Rossi. I also work with Agent Hotchner and Agent (Y/L/N)."

"I know who you are."

"Yeah? I still don't know who you are, though."

A responding groan vibrated from the other line. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do you think I'm fucking dumb?"*

"No one thinks anything here, pal. Just wanted to know who I was speaking to, that's all." At the UnSub's clear signs of agitation, Rossi quickly added, "It'd be nice to know the person who clearly means a lot to (Y/N)."

Rossi's reassurance obviously managed to trigger the intended effect it had sought. Everyone could see how the UnSub physically deflated at Rossi's words, meaning that hopefully he was soon going to let his guard down.

"I can't tell you who I am," your assailant said, still adamant, although his resolve was wearing thin with each word he had stated. "You're just gonna use it to track me down and keep us apart."

The last syllable of his sentence was emphasized by the weight of his dagger on the side of your neck. You instinctively winced at the unwelcomed touch of the blade before schooling your expression once more so your captor wouldn't notice.

"I promise you, no one is going to do that," Rossi said.

"He's telling the truth," you decided to chime in, surprising everyone including the UnSub whose grip of the dagger had teetered dangerously closer to your pulse point at the sudden proclamation. "They are good people. They don't break promises or tell lies. I promise you, nothing will come between us."

The silence that fell next was heavy with the UnSub's hesitation. Bracing yourself, you forced your head to tilt back, locking eyes with him who was still standing like a guard dog right behind you.

"I swear, Darling," you vowed.

The lull in your voice--or perhaps the fact that you had called him darling in front of your team, which he could arguably take as a display of affection--must have stirred up something in his twisted mind. He actually preened at you before his eyes went right back towards the direction of the camera on the wall.

"My name is Arthur," he confessed.

A particular thread of memory in your brain immediately lit up.

Back in the bullpen, JJ and Spencer were finally returning with documents containing your phone records that they had promptly asked Kevin to gather. Spencer didn't waste any time before perching himself on his desk to start rummaging through the thick pile of files.

"Arthur?" Rossi repeated the name, eyes flicking over to Garcia with a silent request to start cross-referencing the name with the other names they had acquired so far in the investigation.

The tech analyst didn't need to be told twice. She began typing furiously on her laptop as Rossi's attention was drawn back towards the projector.

The UnSub hadn't moved an inch. His hand was still just as sturdy on your shoulder. The blade was also still just as cold as it pressed onto your skin.

One wrong move, and you would end up no better than a slaughter animal on the cold hard ground.

"Do you have a last name, Arthur?" Rossi asked.

The entire bullpen held their breath in anticipation. Rossi had planted the bait as strategically as he could. It was up to the UnSub to take it and slip up the one information that would give them a major lead to end this case once and for all.

But before the UnSub could respond, a muffled beeping resonated in the air, through the telephone line, and finally into the bullpen. The sound was enough to make your assailant faltered.

"I have to go."

It was the last thing he uttered before the line, along with the livestream, went completely dead.

The atmosphere was laden with restlessness as everyone tried to make peace with the fact that they had just lost the only mean of communication they had with you. Without the feed from the livestream, no one could possibly know what was going on. The team would have no idea if something were to happen to you.

They would have no idea how to determine whether you were alive or dead.

"Did you find anything yet, Garcia?" Rossi questioned, although in all honestly, it sounded more like a desperate plea.

The thick regret behind Garcia's eyes gave Rossi the answer he needed to know.

"I can't find any Arthur in our files, sir," Garcia informed.

"Anything from her phone records? What about the hospital?" Rossi tried again.

Emily shook her head almost remorsefully.

"Nothing yet," Spencer spoke up from his place on the desk. "Not a single thing stands out from her records."

"What now?" JJ sighed, exhaustion and worry beginning to decorate the lines on her face.

The whole bullpen stood still, as if everyone was waiting for a slice of miracle to descend into the room, holding a map that would eventually lead the team to where you were still being held captive. But such a map didn't exist in this piece of reality, and the BAU knew that they were running out of time.

"Garcia, did you record the livestream by any chance?" Spencer asked at last.

"Yeah, of course I did."

Penelope punched a few keys on her keyboard before the projector once again came alive with the footage from the livestream.

"Can you fast forward to the very end?" Spencer requested. "And then play it again backwards to the beginning."

"What are you thinking, Spence?" JJ wondered.

"I don't know. I just... maybe there's a detail we missed. At this point, even the smallest piece of clue is worth pursuing."

Several pair of eyes glued themselves on the screen as the livestream footage ran backward at a faster speed. Bated breaths waited in tension for just the tiniest hint that the team could scour to determine your location.

"Wait. What was that?" Spencer interjected. "Garcia, play that again."

"What? What is it?" Emily spoke up.

"Look at her hand." Spencer stood up from the desk, approaching the screen to get a better look. "She's knocking against the chair. Garcia, zoom in on her hand. The left one."

Penelope did as she was asked. "Is that--"

"It's morse code," Rossi muttered, realization overtaking his countenance.

"What is she saying?" JJ questioned.

"A-U--" Spencer began spelling out loud, "--T... Auto. She's spelling auto."

"Auto?" JJ's forehead creased. "As in... auto shop?"

"Her records said she went to a mechanic a week ago," Spencer recalled. JJ immediately rummaged through the papers on Spencer's desk, but the pages flipping inside of Spencer's mind moved at a thousand times more speed than any normal pair of eyes ever could. "Dinozzo's Auto Service, 894 Southwell Street."

"Got it," Penelope chimed in from her place in front of the laptop. "Dinozzo's Auto Shop. Originally owned by Carlo Dinozzo before it was passed down to his two sons after his death a year ago."

"Any of them named Arthur?" Rossi asked

"Nope. Luca and Piero."

"What about the employees?" Emily suggested.

"No. I'm not seeing any Arthur anywhere near that place."

"We profiled that the UnSub could be holding down a steady job in his everyday life," JJ said. "He might not even be related to that place. Maybe (Y/N) encountered him there by chance?"

"Nah, I doubt it." Rossi shook his head. "The bastard's too sophisticated to leave anything up to chance like that. He must have found a way to orchestrate it one way or another."

"There must be a connection somewhere, then. No way he just chose a random place off the map," Emily muttered. "We should cross-reference the name to anyone associated with the Dinozzos."

Penelope began to frantically type something into her laptop. "We've still got three names here. Oh, never mind. Two names, 'cause one of them is dead."

"What do we have on them?" Spencer asked.

"First is Arthur Doyle. He went to high school with Luca and Piero Dinozzo, works in a local company, and looks like he travels a lot for his job," Penelope explained. "There's also an Arthur Harrison, works as an accountant in the heart of Arlington. His dad and Carlo Dinozzo were long-time pals. Apparently, his dad was an accountant too and used to handle the shop's finances before Arthur inherited the office. Oh."

"What? What'd you find?"

"Arthur was engaged," Penelope murmured, "to a Claire Dumont. They were gonna get married last year but the wedding was called off just one month before the D-day."

"Where's Claire now?" JJ asked.

"She moved to Ohio shortly after the breakup, and... oh my God. Guess what?" Penelope looked up, her eyes widening almost comically. "She just announced her engagement three months ago."

Spencer hummed. "That could be the stressor."

An image of a woman suddenly appeared on screen, right above the paused footage of your hand. Everyone stared at the picture in shock.

"That's Claire Dumont," Penelope murmured.

JJ held her breath. "She and (Y/N) could be sisters."

"We've found our guy," Rossi declared. "Garcia, pull up every known address associated with this man. And hurry, we don't have much time."

"I have three properties so far connected to Arthur Harrison. Sending the addresses to all of your phones."

As JJ, Spencer, and Rossi rushed to exit the bullpen, Emily turned around and called out to the others, "I'm grabbing Morgan and Hotch!"

Without stopping to knock, Emily pushed open the door to Hotch's office, ignoring the slivers of tension dancing around in the air.

"We may have something," Emily announced to the room. "We think we know where (Y/N) is."

Your assailant--Arthur, as it turned out--pulled his phone out and pressed a few buttons in, silencing the beeping. Once the noise was gone, the room was quiet again.

He looked at you, then. Piercingly. You squirmed underneath his scrutiny.

"Wait here," he eventually said. "I'll be back."

Without taking a second to breathe, Arthur flew past you and towards the direction he had appeared from earlier.

"Wait! Wait. Where are you going?"

The sound of steps ceased on top of concrete. You waited with bated breath for his response. But the only sound ever came was that of the metal door, and as quickly as you could count to three, he was gone.

At last, you were alone once more.

The traces of adrenaline had begun to dissipate out of your system, leaving you in a shivering mess inside that damp concrete room. Once again, you attempted with all of your might to free yourself from the state of confinement you were in. But the metal cuffs binding you to the chair only dug further into your skin the more you tried to escape, while the chair itself stayed nailed in place no matter how hard you tried to rock it.

After a few more minutes of futile attempts, you were forced to face the reality of your situation.

You were never going to get yourself out of that dingy place alone.

Huffing a breath, you knew that there was nothing more you could do except to hope that your team found the hidden message you had left for them to solve.

And with that last thought conquering every room your head, you let yourself succumb to the impending darkness.

You woke up gasping for air.

It took you a few seconds to remember where you were, to remember that you weren't back in the comfort of your apartment and instead, you were still holed up in the darkened cold room where your abductor had been keeping you captive.

It took a few seconds more to realize that the drowning dream you just had might have been a tad bit more real than you initially thought.

Still reeling in shock, you peered up and locked eyes with your abductor, eyes barely registering the empty bucket he was holding in one of his hands. It didn't take a genius to conclude that he was the one responsible for your drenched state.

"W-what?" you stuttered meekly. "What's going on?"

He only stared at you in response.

"Arthur?"

You shrieked loudly when Arthur threw the empty bucket against the wall, sending a resounding "bang" throughout the whole room and breaking the plastic object into two misshaped pieces.

"Arthur--" you gasped, searching for your voice that seemed to have disappeared beneath the layers of brewing fear, "--w-what... what are you... what's going on? Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you, you fucking bitch."

The beating inside your chest fastened. Before you could ask yet another question, Arthur had lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head back so you could stare directly into his eyes.

"You're a fucking liar," he seethed. "You lied to me. Everything you said was a lie, wasn't it?!"

"I don't--" you hissed, trying to ignore the biting pain in your scalp, "--I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Stop fucking lying!!!"

A sharp smack reverberated in the air.

It was only when the ringing in your ear grew louder did you realize that Arthur had slapped your cheek.

Hard.

Ignoring the tingling on the side of your face, you lifted your head once more. The room was spinning, tilting your balance left and right, but you held your ground through it all.

"What did I lie to you about, Arthur?" you asked carefully.

He threw something at your feet. It clanged against the hard ground below before landing face up near your toes.

It was your phone.

But the fact that Arthur somehow had your phone in his possession wasn't what caused the sick feeling to stir northward in your belly.

It was what you were seeing on the now cracked screen of your phone: a picture of you and Derek. A selfie that you had impulsively taken of the two of you in bed after one of your nighttime escapades.

For awhile there, you had briefly forgotten about that photo. It was another lost memory in the ocean of rubble left behind in the wake of your fallout with Derek. Seeing that photo again after such a long time triggered waves of emotions that you had been desperately burying for the past few weeks.

The longing, the guilt, the heartache.

The regrets.

The regret of ending your little arrangement so abruptly in such a hostile manner. The regret of not telling Derek sooner about the baby. The regret of maybe never being able to see Derek for one last time.

But most importantly, it was the regret over not revealing the truth of what your heart felt for him that was eating you alive.

"You're fucking him," Arthur fumed, eyes blazing with an indescribable fury that made your entire body shudder.

"Arthur, please... I can explain--"

"Shut the fuck up."

He stepped forward once more, crowding your personal place and rendering you helpless underneath his psychopathic gaze.

"Tell me the truth, and if you dare lie--" Arthur paused, his hand disappearing behind his back before it appeared again with a dagger that he promptly pressed against your abdomen, "--don't ever dream of meeting your child."

"Okay. Okay, I'll tell you the truth."

"You're fucking him, aren't you?"

The bile in your throat had tripled in size. Swallowing it down, you tried to even your voice out as you answered, "I was."

"Ha," he scoffed. "I knew it. You fucking whore. You're no better than any of them."

To your relief, he eventually chose to retract the dagger and stepped away from you, opting to circle the room like a distressed lion in a cage. But even with the blade no longer touching your skin, you knew very well that the danger wasn't over yet and that things could escalate even further in a matter of seconds if you weren't careful.

"Arthur," you called out to him softly, slowly, as to not startle him and risk doing something that would trigger a psychotic break. "Arthur, please. You have to listen to me. That arrangement ended long ago. It meant nothing to me. It happened long before I met you."

Arthur's voice echoed coldly as he replied, "I don't believe you."

"Please, Arthur--"

"That's his child, isn't it?" he cut you off, pointing the tip of the dagger at your belly. "What he said on the phone. He said my child. That's because it's his. You're having Derek Morgan's child."

"No--"

"I thought you were different. I thought you were the one." The dagger in his hand shook with venom. "But you're just the same as the rest of them."

"I'm not. Please, I'm not--"

"I have to start searching again. For the one. You're not her, which means she's still out there."

"Arthur--"

"I'll have to get rid of you."

"Arthur, please!" Your voice cracked, leaking of terror and desperation larger than anything you had ever known. When something wet touched the side of your nose, you realized then that you had started to cry. "Arthur, you have to believe me. I've ended everything with him. There's nothing between us anymore."

The words you uttered kept lingering in the air in a bubble made out of despair. But as if every single one of them had fallen on deaf ears, your captor paid no attention to them. Not even a single acknowledgment to your pleas.

Instead, he had begun taking careful steps forward. Silent and deadly, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Arthur, please! I choose you!"

To your shock, his steps faltered upon your words.

For a moment, you could taste relief on the tip of your tongue before it was washed away by the knowledge that you were not entirely out of the woods yet. But from the corner of your eye, you could see the slight loosening of Arthur's grip around the dagger. It filled you with enough hope to push forward.

"I'm choosing you, Arthur," you stated confidently, trying to convince him of your sincerity. "I don't care about Derek. I'm done with him. I'm done with my old life and everyone in it. I'm ready to leave everything behind to be with you. I choose you."

"You choose me?"

"Yes. I choose you to take care of me. To take care of this baby. The three of us can be a family. How does that sound?"

Seconds ticked into minutes. Minutes stretched into a long silence. The anticipation threatened to break your chest in half.

When he finally began to move once more, Arthur surprised you. He threw the dragger towards a darkened corner in the room, far away from his reach and, most importantly, far away from the possibility of it harming the growing life inside of you.

When Arthur took off the ski mask he had been wearing since the first time you opened your eyes in that harrowing place, you weren't at all surprised to see the face staring back at you. After all, it was the same face belonging to the man who had stopped his car for you when your own car had mysteriously broken down in the middle of the road just around two weeks prior. The same face who offered a business card of his friend's auto shop where you eventually went to get your vehicle fixed.

In retrospect, you should have been at least a little bit suspicious by the whole ordeal, but was it really your fault for choosing to put your trust in the good of humanity?

You knew there was no point in dwelling over what-ifs anymore. Arthur would've found a way, like any psychopath would, and you would've still ended up being tied up in this dismal room with him.

"Did you mean it?" Arthur asked.

You put on your best fake smile before answering, "Yes."

He grabbed you in his arms in just two long strides.

You wanted to throw up. You hated the feeling of his fingers stroking your back. You wanted to kick him away and get this piece of shit as far away from you and your baby as possible. You wanted to rid yourself of the lingering smell of him that had now undoubtedly transferred into your skin.

And maybe, you would've done all of those things if it was only your life that was on the line.

Unfortunately, fighting back was a luxury you couldn't afford anymore. So, you were forced to stay quiet instead, letting your captor whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if it didn't repulse you even being in the same room as him.

You were close to counting towards the 200s in your head when, suddenly, a clanking noise in the distance ripped your attention away.

In a split second, Arthur had peeled his arms from around you and got back on his feet. You knew then that he must have heard it, too.

You watched as he stepped away, dragging a crate from one corner of the room and placing it strategically underneath the only opening on the walls. He got on top of the crate to allow himself to peek outside, but whatever he saw must have startled him greatly. Because the next thing you knew, he had backed away from the wall in the blink of an eye, face crumpling in what could only be described as panic.

"The cops are here," he managed to sputter out.

"What?"

Your heart was hammering inside of its cage. The cops are here. You realized then that the team must have solved the clue you left them. They had solved the case, and they were coming to save you.

Derek was coming to save you.

"What did you do?!"

In a moment of weakness, you had allowed yourself to rejoice in the promise of freedom that you momentarily forgot you actually hadn't possessed it yet. The slip-up was miniscule, but it wasn't fleeting enough to escape the attention of your captor.

"You tricked me!" Arthur's voice boomed throughout the room, carrying rage unlike anything you had ever known. "I trusted you, and you lied to me! Again."

"Arthur--"

This time, there was no room for negotiation.

Arthur didn't even waste a millisecond before he dove forward. He was a lion, and you were the deer. His sharp teeth were calloused fingers, and they dug into your skin as Arthur tightened his grip around your throat.

"You lied to me. You lied to me."

He repeated those words like a mantra, his voice drowned out by desperate gasps as you tried to scour for what little bit of air you could still revel in. Your feet and arms shook beneath their restrains. Your head pounded from the pressure that had gathered inside your skull.

In that moment, death was imminent.

You could feel it coming. You could feel its claws clutching every single drop of life that was still remaining in your bloodstream. It was a battle between the two, and unfortunately, death was winning.

As the dark spots in your vision spread into a massive blotch, you allowed yourself to say goodbye. To life. To the world. To the memories of your loved ones whose faces you wished you could've memorized one last time.

To Derek, the one who could've been, the one you wished had been.

And to the child in your womb, the one you wished you could've met, the one you wished you could've saved.

When darkness came, you expected it to be cold and unforgiving, but as it turned out, darkness was easy. Simple. It welcomed you into its home with open arms, shielding you from the cruelties of the mundane world.

As it pulled you deeper into its abode, you could faintly hear the sound of your name being called repeatedly. It sounded similar. It sounded like home.

But this was your home now, so without turning back, you allowed darkness to lead you further down the dim path. Away from the pain and the heartbreaks of life. Far from the evil that lurked in the streets behind their well-crafted masks.

In the darkness, there was nothing.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

And nothing was exactly what you were going to be.

[worlds-best-striker]

important post. again. please read.

mod switches perspectives between isagi and themself so expect random changes.

tw for swearing, yelling/caps, threats (not directed, just what people have said), why this is not fucking okay and what i expect in future.

it has been brought to my attention that certain blogs have been receiving hate.

yes, i understand that its something people do to characters they hate. i don't mind but the other hand that i never expected to see was hating the mod. what the hell?

doing it on anon as well makes me so upset because what?? we've talked about this before, I'VE talked about this countless times. wanna hate on my rp character or me?? do it with your fucking chest, don't give me a half-assed "kys" on anon. because what makes you think i won't respond??

i believe this is so fucking disrespectful. a lot of us roleplaying mods are minors, and threats just because we roleplay a character is no reason to tell us to k!ll ourselves. its not funny. you're not funny.

you're ruining the anon feature for people who use it because they have roleplay side blogs, or because they're too scared to talk on their actual handle. so why, why use it to hate??

like i say every fucking time, we're just trying to have fun.

got a problem with the character i roleplay? you can cry about it, i really don't care.

it gets to the point i care when it's one of my friends. do you genuinely not have any basic human respect??

i'm keeping anon on for people who wanna keep hating, but i do suggest other rp blogs who may be more sensitive or prone to this kind of hate turns anon off.

wanna hate me? go for it, i don't care. wanna hate my friends? i'm here for them.

again, i hope that people take this into account!! just. fucking. block. a blog. if you don't like the character. its really not that deep.

rp mods, stay safe and feel free to tag mod in any hateful asks/comments. can't out hate a hater. and people who wanna interact with our rp blogs, be respectful. i dont even understand why i have to be saying this, its basic knowledge.

[separatist-apologist]

I cut your username out of this post because I don't want to unintentionally direct anyone over to you. I do believe you're sorry, and I also believe you didn't intend for any of the things that transpired TO transpire.

I want to answer this, though, because I genuinely believe a LOT of the people who logged out last night to flame the fic are on this website watching, and I want to speak directly to them. I'll never know who they are, and thats unfortunate because to me, it looks like a lot of other people are content to let you be thrown under the bus while taking no accountability for their actions.

I want to share this comment FROM the fic writer who responded to me when I left a comment this morning both condemning the actions of fellow gwynriel/eluciens and encouraging her to continue writing. Look at what she said. She had a mini-breakdown because a small but obnoxiously loud group of people took it upon themselves to not just leave unkind, unnecessary feedback, but to start whole threads about it, take it to other platforms, and otherwise talk shit because a story had *checks notes* conflict.

The fic is tagged: slowburn, eventual romance, AND the elain x azriel relationship. She did her due diligence as far as what she owes people- ya'll don't read tags and engage with the story like it was written specifically FOR you. First of all- it was written for ME. But lets pretend it wasn't, because I think the only reason people are backtracking is because I took offense. You shouldn't do this to ANYONE.

EVER!!!!

And I see a lot of ya'll writing your first fics and your comments are always something to the flavor of "be kind, I'm new/nervous/worried" and then you turn around and do this stuff to other writers like you're OWED your very specific vision of what these characters are, should be, or should act like.

This happens TOO OFTEN in this ship, and frankly, I'm tired of it. You guys will turn on people writing in your own ship if it doesn't adhere to YOUR specific, NARROW vision of "canon" (FANON) and wholesale bully people out, and whats left? A bunch of chronically online assholes whining that no one wants to draw art, write fic, or participate because they're afraid of you. Ya'll act like this is some moral crusade and if you ship the "right" thing, you can't possibly be a bully.

But its just bullying, dressed up as passion for the ship.

This isn't directed at you, OP- I'm talking to the other people who are letting you fall on this sword, who are absolutely watching this, who participated, and will likely to continue acting like this. But they'll be the first to scream and sob when another anonymous blog pops up to talk the same shit, and there will no irony or awareness around any of it. This is the culture some of you have created. Shocking you get it back in ten fold.

[whenanafallsinlove]

UNDER INVESTIGATION; SHOTO TODOROKI X FEM READER PILOT' || series m.list Summary: As a forensic medical examiner, you are used to working alongside the police, but a concerning case calls for the aid of a pro-hero. When Shoto shows up, the time you spend together makes you realise that the case is not the only thing you would like to solve. Maybe what you start to feel needs to go under investigation too. Warnings: descriptions of autopsies, crime, deceased bodies. Tags: prohero au, fem reader, aged up characters, romance + crime, multichapter.

a/n: (eng is not my first language) omg this is the first update of the fic, i'm so excited! i hope you like it and look forward to the next part! comment what you think! :D

“We hereby conduct this postmortem.”

You are used to saying those words daily, sometimes even more than once per day. It's like a ritual that indicates the beginning of your shift.

As a forensic medical examiner, you have worked on a lot of cases, getting to know many people. You've partnered with policemen, detectives, and some underground heroes.

Today you received a call before dawn. The police found another body that needed a detailed autopsy. You suspect that they have opened an investigation involving the recent corpses you were asked to analyse. This is the third one you've had to examine in a week.

It has been over three hours since you started the autopsy, taking pictures of the small details you found unusual and extracting body fluids and organic matter that needs to be sent to the lab. Every new hint you find, you write it down meticulously.

Once you finish examining the body, you take your gloves off, sanitize your hands, and start writing the mandated report.

Minutes later, the entrance to your lab opens, revealing three men. A detective, your lab supervisor, and whom you recognized to be Pro-Hero Shoto.

"Gentlemen," you say and nod to address them.

"Good morning, Dr. (Y/L/N)" Your supervisor says, "We've come to learn the updates regarding the corpses."

"Please come in; I just finished the autopsy, and I'm currently writing the report. I think I'll have it around noon, as long as you don't bring in another one..." You say the last part with a hint of humor.

"Sorry that we've been keeping you busy, but we suspect there is something suspicious with the bodies that have been recently found. The investigation started around two weeks ago, and well, you see how it's progressing." The detective explains and sighs.

"That is what I would like to discuss. I see you took your task seriously and brought me a hero." You turn towards Shoto and address him with a grin.

As soon as you got to your lab and started the autopsy, the similarities this body had with the other two caught your eye. You immediately decided to call your supervisor and explain that the recent autopsies would need to be discussed with the police and a hero agency willing to assist. You expected the support of a small agency; never would you have imagined working with the Hero #3.

Shoto makes his way towards you and extends his hand.

"I'm Shoto; it's a pleasure to meet you," he says. You shake his hand and smile.

"Nice to meet you; I'm Dr. (y/n)(Y/L/N)." You hope your enthusiasm doesn't show in the way you are grabbing his hand.

After greeting him, you take your notes and address the other men. "Well, gentlemen, shall I give you a description of what I have found in the bodies?" Your supervisor nods.

"Please walk us through, (Y/L/N)"; you take that as your cue to hand them gloves, face masks, and eye protection. This seemed to catch Shouto off guard, because you notice he looks at you with wonder.

"Have you ever been in a morgue?" you ask him.

"No." He coldly responds.

"Well, don't worry. You won't be touching anything; these are just for sanitary measures." You gesture to the materials you just gave them and offer him a reassuring smile.

Shouto can't help but think that even though you act very professional, you also seem lighthearted for the type of job that you have.

You sigh heavily and start presenting the information that you found.

"As you can see, there are some areas throughout the body that have a different colour. At first, I thought they were indicators of physical trauma, but when examining them closer, I found they were small fungi colonies." Your supervisor hums in agreement, and you continue, "But, according to the police report that I received, this person has been deceased for less than 48 hours, which is yet to be confirmed by the biochemical exams. Although the 'rigor mortis' displayed by the body validates it." You lift your gaze to see if everyone is following, and Shouto is so evidently lost that it makes you giggle.

"Dr. (Y/L/N)?" your supervisor calls.

"Sorry, I forgot that not everyone is accustomed to the scientific terms," you say, chuckling at the hero. "In other words, these marks are not bruises or scrapes. But I fear it's slightly worse, since they are decomposed skin."

Shoto nodded in understanding, but he still had a question.

"Why is it worse if there is no sign of physical violence?"

"Because the time that the body has been lifeless is too short for it to decompose. And even though I'm waiting for the tests that we perform on the body fluids, the stiffness of the body confirms that it hasn't been too long."

You see the three men nod in agreement.

"In addition to this, it is almost winter, so the temperature hasn't been over 19°. Normally, a decomposition like this, with the weather we have, would take around two weeks. And the body would present different necrophagous species." You shift your stare at Shoto. "There would be insects."

He was startled for many reasons: 1. How could you know all that by looking at a body? 2. How do you manage to look at bodies and speak so nonchalantly about them? and 3. How are you not getting nauseus from this information?

"What are you suggesting here, (Y/L/N)?" your supervisor asks.

"Well, I have two theories about this. The three bodies that I have analyzed have been contaminated by the fungi. My first theory is that if the three bodies were found inside the same radius of 100 m, there may be a massive fungi infestation in the environment that is slowly killing people."

"Sounds unlikely," Shoto says.

"Exactly what I thought. Which leads to my second theory: that someone with a decomposition quirk targeted these people."

As the three men process the information, you smile at Shoto. You figured you should get along well if you'd be seeing him often.

TAGS: @miyamoratsumuu, @serxndipity-ipity-blog, @mqshido, @pretty-sparkle-bomb

[batboyblog]

I feel like some people can't be/refuse to be educated, or they're deliberately being obtuse because they're trolls, psyops, or they just fell for the trolls and psyops. But its still good to point out where they're wrong and to give actual, you know, facts, for the benefit of other people reading who might actually be reachable.

yeah, I mean I usually ignore them because usually its bad faith and when a post is getting hundreds even thousands of notes in a day you just can't keep up with the 10-20-ish people who say something, particularly if its in the tags because thats just hard or fighting in the replies which always feels weird

But I was in a bad mood and in general seeing the same either bad faith or straight up don't know comment over and over and over again is very annoying

the "lol Joe Biden didn't do anything about Student loans!" one is pretty annoying since Biden has forgiven well over 100 BILLION dollars worth of student loan debt, so like he has done a lot on student loan debt. I'm not a big deal but I remember I did one of my "what Biden did this week" posts and it had the student loan debt forgiveness for people who got defrauded by the Art Institutes, and a few people added their stories of being defrauded and being in debt to AI for years and the one that'll stay with me was an older guy who went to try to get a new degree to get a job in a different field kinda late in the game, his 50s or 60s and of course didn't get the jobs he hoped for because scam college and saying how he thought he'd die in debt and it was all gone, all forgiven. So just like people flippantly dismissing a very real life changing thing is very annoying

there are a few other very common annoying ones "why didn't he do this when he controlled congress before!" well he was busy passing the biggest climate change bill any government on earth has ever done, investing in our Infrastructure for the first time since before Reagan was President (Reagan 😒) listen Biden passed 4 of the biggest most transformationally progressive bills the US has seen since LBJ

American Rescue Plan

Bipartisan Infrastructure Law

CHIPS and Science Act

Inflation Reduction Act

on top of which he passed the first gun control law out of congress in 30 years, and other things, like the Respect for Marriage Act to protect gay marriage, or making Juneteenth a federal holiday (the first new federal holiday since MLK day in 1983)

SO! thats why he didn't do the things he wants to do in his next term he was busy doing equally (and in the case of climate change more important) things and thats why we should all be hopeful if Joe Biden is President with a Democratic Congress he'll get most if not ALL the things on his agenda done, because he's fucking good at this, we haven't had a President this good at pushing bills through Congress and using every switch and lever of the federal government to make major progressive change since LBJ or FDR, I guess his big mistake was naming it something boring like "Inflation Reduction Act" and not something sexy like "New Deal" or "Great Society"

sorry to go off on a tare there, but its just frustrating to see 40 (out of tens of thousands really) posts saying the same dumb shit and having no real way to respond

[delimeful]

Really? You don’t find passive aggressive comments, such as your tags, do be impolite?

And how, exactly, is an ask button (which YOU enabled) that is commonly known to be used for requesting stories on Tumblr from writing pages impolite? Are you new to writing Tumblr? What do you think a majority of writers on Tumblr use that ask button for?

I’ve been a follower for a while but I’m pretty dissapointed tbh.

Anonymous asked: I noticed a reply from @/gstash So let me address that as well. No, of course I don’t expect everything immediately and for free, and I initially requested this story over a year ago. I also spent over $50 being subscribed to Lime’s Patreon specifically for this story, but I had to stop due to low finances. I was just trying to check on when it may be up soon, but I felt the response was rather rude.

(the added slash is mine, i didn't want to inadvertently @ anyone else in this debacle lol)

this is gonna be my final word on the matter because im sick of getting home from work to asks like these. anything else is gonna be deleted. feel free to go ahead and use your actual blog to reply instead of anon if you still feel that strongly about it.

i dont think my tags weren't passive aggressive they were just plain statements. no, i don't think it's impolite to express a boundary irt people asking me for updates. your indignation about this reflects on you, not me.

to clarify, badgering me for updates (verbatim: "Could you please please please post chapter 7") isn't impolite, just irritating. it was the decision to send another ask chiding me for my response that was impolite. kind of a dick move, as most involved in the tumblr writing community know. i genuinely feel sorry for the writers you follow if you genuinely only see their ask boxes as an opportunity to pester them.

i'm disappointed too, anon. i hoped that maybe keeping calm and sincerely explaining myself would be enough to prompt you to respond with empathy in kind, but instead you doubled down.

it seems like there's been a misunderstanding in regards to my patreon; there is no tier that ensures a specific chapter of a fic is updated within a specific time frame. that would be a commission, which is explicitly listed as a reward for my $30 tier, because those take a lot more time + energy for me.

my $12 patreon tier offers early access to my writing, and the ability to request future chapters be moved up on my to-do list, through polls + priority continuation requests. i can't guarantee any specific chapter update in a month, and i'll explain why.

currently, i have over 50 total WIP fics being worked on. each month, i get around 25 chapter update requests. even assuming that each chapter is 2k, my usual minimum chapter length, i would have to write 50,000 words every single month. if i had the capability for that kind of regular output, i would be churning out books like stephen king instead of constantly struggling for my usual monthly 10-15k like a chump lol.

in essence, don't subscribe to my patreon for a specific story unless you know the next chapter for it is already up there. which it is, because i eventually got to your request. and it'll eventually be up on the blog for free. and during the months you spent subscribed to my patreon, you received at minimum tens of thousands of words of content.

finally, an earnest request: please stop acting like twelve dollars is an exorbitant fee when i'm literally making pennies per word written. like, i could have worked a single 8 hour shift at mcdonalds in texas for minimum wage instead and i would have ended up with $8 more than you paid me for four months of many hours of dedicated work.

(not even a joke: 7.25 x 8 = 58.)

in conclusion, i am a human person with feelings, just like every other writer on this site. please take a moment to remember that when sending asks in the future