#i know sod all about cars

[silverfoxstole]

Paul presenting One Man and His Scarves, also known as The Petrol Age, Episode One (2012).

[jamminvroomvroom]

big dad vibes.

dad!ln x fem!reader

in which lando becomes a dad, and a series of moments that follow

back with more brainrot! this time it’s for dad!lando bc the baby fever is fevering and lando just had to go and talk about having kids on that podcast. my first time using social media elements as well so i hope you enjoy! ALSO! huge thank you for 3k, love you all and i cannot thank you enough for your support! 💘

warnings: minors pls dni with my work! mentions of pregnancy, children, minor angst, super duper fluff, suggestive jokes here and there, dilf!lando

1. the birth

lando’s legs couldn’t have carried him any faster than they already were. the hospital rooms disappeared past in a flash, his eyes scanning the hallways for one door. everything he’d ever wanted waited for him on the other side of that one door.

it was typical, really, that the one time he’d left your side since the season ended, you went into labour. he’d begdrudgingly listened when you told him to go to his meeting, despite the feeling in his gut that told him not to. lando knew, now, that his instincts were right.

the second he’d seen your face flash up on his phone, he was out of the conference room. you wouldn’t have called him unless it was an emergency. everything seemed to be moving in slow motion when he put the phone down, but then he was sprinting, through the double doors before him, past the line of cars, and out towards his car, speeding away from the MTC. the traffic fine he knew he was in for was worth it.

your words rang in his ears.

“lando… it’s time.” you’d breathed down the phone, accompanied by a shaky laugh.

and now he was looking at the door. it opened, slowly, and there you were, draped in a hospital gown, tired eyes bloodshot and soft. you were smiling, crying, and he fell to his knees before you.

“someone wants to meet you.” you cooed, and then he was crying too.

lando squeezed your knee, trying to pull himself together but it was futile. the most precious ray of light stirred in your arms, how would he ever be able to stop crying? you’d created that, you and him, and now she was here.

“can i…?” lando stood from where he was worshipping you, hoodie sleeve mopping up his tears.

“take all that off.” you replied.

“trying to get me naked already? i thought it would be at least six weeks-“ he teased.

“no, you sod. skin on skin contact.” you groaned, grinning helplessly at the man that had made you a mother.

he laughed along with you quietly, stripping the layers and sitting beside you on the hospital bed. you searched his excited eyes, melting as you placed your little girl in his awaiting arms.

and then he was falling in love.

the winter sunlight streamed through the window, a soft glow encapsulating your little family. lando sat next to you in dead silence, counting ten little fingers, ten little toes, memorising the dimpled curve of two lips, the crease between two softly shut eyes. his heart was bursting in a way it never had before, a new lease of life breathed into his body that fulfilled him more than anything ever had.

“are you okay, baby? i’m so sorry i wasn’t here.” lando mumbled, kissing your shoulder. he looked up at you, scanning your tired face, knowing that you’d never looked so beautiful. you cupped his cheek, pressing your forehead against his.

“the pain was worth it.” you quirked your lips, tilting your head so that you could kiss him. you felt his fresh tears wetting your cheeks, and you smiled into the kiss.

“i got here as quick as i could, i’m so sorry i wasn’t here to hold your hand.” lando was heartbroken to have missed the birth of his first child, guilty even, but you wouldn’t let that feeling linger.

“i’m just happy that you’re here now, i promise. we’ve gotta name this little love.” you pecked his lips again, cuddling into his side.

you’d been backwards and forwards on names for months, never landing on anything that seemed to fit. you’d read countless lists of names, brainstormed names of people you loved, but you just couldn’t agree.

“can we talk about it later? just wanna look at her for a bit longer. like, forever.” lando mumbled, and as if she recognised her daddy’s voice, your baby’s grey blue eyes fluttered open.

“oh.” he gasped.

you watched in pure adoration as they stared at each other, neither of them willing to look away first. a bond was forming before your eyes, and you felt like the earth was moving under your feet.

lando knew, staring into big blue eyes, that nothing would ever be the same again.

landonorris via instagram

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landonorris: welcome to the world, the one and only matilda norris ❤️

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2. the race

“lando, you cannot take her into the bloody media pen!” you scolded, ignoring the bark of a laugh he let out in response.

you were midway through changing matilda’s nappy, dressing her in the tiny mclaren t-shirt that the team had gifted you when you welcomed her to the world.

she was nearly six months old now, with the cutest smile and a laugh that could bring an entire room to tears. you were at your home in monaco, preparing to descend down the hills towards the marina where the race would be. this would be her first race weekend, and lando couldn’t have been more excited for her to make her debut at the track.

he also couldn’t have been more nervous.

the idea of putting your baby into such a hectic environment made lando sweat, which was why you’d left it until monaco, so that you had a home base to sneak away to if it all got too much.

“are you nearly ready to go, baby?” lando came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he was peering over your shoulder, gazing at the giggling baby on her changing mat. “and what about you, matty? you ready to watch daddy drive?”

“i’m sure you’ll have her undivided attention.” you joked, turning your head to kiss his jaw. “can you put her in the car?”

lando scooped up his daughter, placing her gently into the baby carrier. you grabbed the changing bag and followed him out of the apartment, smiling hard at the quiet nursery rhyme he was singing. you locked up and trailed behind the duo, watching intently as he secured matilda’s car seat.

“see something you like?”lando called behind him, shaking his ass at you cheekily.

“you know i do, that’s how i got pregnant.” you stuck your tongue out at him.

-

the entire weekend was hectic, lando having the time of his life. he’d put his mclaren on the front row, the race flying by where he claimed second place and a rightful spot of the podium. you’d kissed him hard, matilda’s grabby hands tugging at his curls when he’d dipped down to press his lips to yours. he smirked, scheming something, and then he took the infant from under your arm, whisking her over to his interview.

“lando norris, what a race that was for you!” jenson button bellowed into the mic. “and it looks like you’ve been busy off track, too! who’s this little one?”

“the one and only matilda norris.” lando replied, pearly whites on display. he’d never looked happier, and you could feel your eyes welling with tears. lando grabbed her little hand softly, making her wave at the camera. “proud of daddy, matty?” he cooed, and you were a wreck.

landonorris via instagram

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landonorris: matty’s first race 🏎️ 🧡

-

3. that time matilda crawled

“babe!” lando’s voice echoed through the house, up into your bedroom. you were fresh out of the shower, wringing your hair dry with a towel, nearly jumping out of your skin when he called.

“what is it, honey?” you shouted back, grabbing your (his) robe from the back of the door.

“you gotta come see this.” he sounded giddy and you bounded down the stairs, speeding into the living room.

“what’s going on?” you asked him, watching him practically jumping up and down with excitement.

“matty crawled.” lando beamed.

your eyes flitted to your daughter, sat quite casually on her play-mat.

“uh…” you said slowly. you wanted to believe him, but the evidence was not lining up. she was getting closer each day, but still seemed to be a tad far off of going the full stretch.

“she did! i swear!” he turned his attention back to matilda, dropping to the floor beside her. “c’mon matty, show mummy! i know you can do it, sweetie.” lando cooed.

“can i finish getting ready?”

“baby, she’s gonna do it again and you’re gonna miss it!”

“okay, just shout if she starts spitting bars.” you teased, turning to leave.

lando was pouting, but as if she sensed her fathers frustration, matilda had a point to prove. she pushed herself up from her tummy, fighting her way towards you.

“oh, my love.” you cooed, hand splayed over your mouth. she was growing up way too fast, but that was eclipsed by the pride bubbling hot in your chest.

“see?” lando pulled you into his side, gleeful. you moulded into him, lip quivering as you watched her wriggle around. “oh, baby, don’t cry.” he pressed a kiss to your hairline.

“happy tears, i promise.”

“she’s so clever, just like her mama.”

-

5. the backlash

the clips circulating online made you feel ill.

lando had just done another podcast, and the topic of his family had come up. they’d set the trap, and he’d fallen right into it, pressuring him about how he approached racing and being a father. he’d tried, bless him, but the way they’d cut the interview made it look like little matty played second fiddle to daddy’s racing car.

you’d been in the studio while your baby slept peacefully beside you, you knew exactly what he’d said, and now the tweets circulating about your boyfriend made you want to scream.

you were no stranger to the occasional landogate, but he’d gotten a lot better over the years. lando didn’t care much for the way the media twisted his words anymore, but when it came to his family, his flesh and blood, he quite simply couldn’t take it.

lando hadn’t come out of his gaming room all day. you’d let him marinate for a few hours, but you hadn’t seen him in too long, and you were starting to panic. matty kept spitting out little strings of words, dadadada spluttering out her little mouth. she wanted him, and you needed him, so you swept her up in your arms and carried her up the stairs.

you tapped on the door, pushing it open before you got a response. he was slumped in his gaming chair, hood up, spinning around aimlessly. he looked so deflated, staring at nothing, manufactured guilt eating him up.

“hey, honey. matty wants her daddy.” you called softly, wading into the room. lando sighed, but took her out of your arms immediately.

“better take what i can get, before she realises what a terrible father i am.” he mumbled sarcastically.

“hey, no. don’t do that, lando. don’t fall into this mindset. you and i both know that you’re a fucking amazing father.” you wagged your finger at him as you spoke. he just slumped further into his seat, letting matty pull at the drawstrings of his hoodie.

“maybe they’re right, though. i was always so scared of this part. what if she grows up and is ashamed of me?” he whispered, eyes honing in on his daughter.

“oh, baby.” it physically hurt you to see him so down on himself. you were ready to burn twitter to the fucking ground. “you’re the best father i could have wished for. she’s literally a little lando! god, honey, she loves you so much. and of course she would - you’re her whole world.”

“when she won’t sleep with me, ten seconds in your arms, and she conked out. when she’s bored, she only wants her dad. don’t even get me started on that annoying stubborn streak she’s showing. lando, she could never be ashamed of you. she is you.” you continued.

lando sighed shakily, pressing a kiss to matty’s forehead before placing her carefully on the ground. some of her toys were scattered there, so she made a beeline for her orange teddy, without a care in the world for you and lando. he spread his arms for you, ushering you in and you sat on his lap, cuddling into him.

“i love you, baby. you don’t know how thankful i am that you gave me this life.” he said into your chest, kissing right over your heart.

you knew everything would be okay, anyone with eyes could see how much he adored his little girl. and anyway, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought; all that mattered was that you had each other, and that was more than enough for lando.

-

5. matty’s first birthday!

your house was full of laughter, shades of pink, purple and yellow decorating every surface. balloons covered the ceiling, a big 1 taking up half your kitchen. and in the middle of all the colourful chaos, your boyfriend held your one year old daughter, bouncing her on his knee.

they were a picture, a truly stunning one, two identical sets of eyes crinkling at the corners while they laughed together. your heart was bursting, nothing able to contain the butterflies in your stomach as you watched the two greatest loves of your life.

stuffed toys and little pairs of shoes covered every surface, wrapped up with big ribbons. all of your favourite people were in one room, your families coming together with all of your friends to celebrate 365 days of matilda.

matty had spent her day playing with sylvie, george’s young daughter, while lando took photos from every angle humanly possible. then there was the cake, which lando had let the little girl smash all over her face. you’d scold him later, the moment was far too precious.

you were caught up watching lando play with matilda, when max came up to you.

“never seen him happier.” max beamed, pulling you into a side hug. you ruffled his hair in response.

“can’t believe we made her.” you muttered, head falling against his shoulder. you were awestruck.

“when are you having another one? he’s gagging for it.” max was joking with you, but the look you gave him made him do a double, triple, quadruple take. you were smirking. “wait… wait what?”

“sooner than you might think.” you patted your tummy slyly. “he doesn’t know yet, i only just found out last night. wanted matty to have her day and then i’ll tell him when she’s gone to sleep.”

max was staring at you, bewildered. you may have even seen a tear in his eye.

“oh, i love you guys. so fucking happy for you.” he whispered.

you caught sight of lando watching, his head tilted in confusion. you just winked at him.

-

“she went down easy. think today really took it out of her.” lando said as he walked into your bedroom. you were sat waiting for him, hands resting behind your back.

“thank you for today, it was perfect.” you beamed when he leaned down to kiss you.

you watched him get ready for bed, stripping down to just his sweats, and then he joined you, lounging across the foot of the bed.

“hey, what were you talking to max about, babe?” lando asked.

“a gift that i got you.” you replied coyly.

“a gift?” lando looked confused, and the confusion only grew when you pulled your hands from behind your back, placing a little gift bag in front of him.

“yep. hope you like it.” you kept your expression neutral.

he picked up the bag, rustling through the tissue paper, and then he found it.

a little white stick.

lando stared blankly, eyes flitting rapidly between your face and the pregnancy test in his hand.

“baby…” he started, but he lost his train of thought. instead, he launched himself at you, cuddling you into the mattress. you were laughing while he pressed his lips all over your face, your neck, ending with your belly.

“good gift?” you giggled, watching as his hand smoothed over the soft skin of your tummy.

“the fucking best.”

landonorris and youruser via instagram

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landonorris: for matty’s first birthday, we’re giving her a sibling 🫶

-

6. family sized

lando norris, father of two, reporting for duty.

leo norris was born under the english sun, the late august heat making your labour a difficult one.

from the minute he was born, leo had a personality, angry, passionate eyes glaring at you and lando, a cry tearing from him that could end wars. he was gonna be a force, that little boy, not that you were complaining.

lando had fallen in love again, only having a few days to adjust before he was racing around europe, but he always found a way to slip into bed with you in the early hours of monday mornings, leo sprawled across his tanned chest. he’d watch the two of you sleep, listening out for matty down the hall.

and then she’d wake up, and lando would lay leo by your side, padding next door to your daughters bedroom. the pitter patter of her little feet and lando’s big laugh would wake you up. mornings were the best part of your day, all four of you tucked up in bed together before the chaos began.

it was hard sometimes, but life was bliss. you had the most wonderful partner, two gorgeous children, happiness that you couldn’t have ever fathomed right at your fingertips.

lando finally realised how big the world was, now that his family was often on the other side of it. he ached every second his heart was away from his kids but watching them grow, getting to see them smile, matilda clinging to his legs the second he came home, made it all worth it.

and god, coming home to you, whether you were waiting with open arms at the door or tucked up in white linen bedsheets in one of his t-shirts, was fucking delightful. you were his person, the one that gave him a reason to get up and smile, and he’d do quite possibly anything to keep you happy until you were old and grey by his side.

“matty, what do you say when we say goodbye to chat?” lando asked his little girl.

he was wrapping up a stream, matilda finding her rightful place as his new cohost - max was hardly coping with being replaced but that was a separate issue.

lando bowed his head, looking at matty encouragingly and she beamed hard at the screen. she was two years old, with the bubbliest personality and the brightest eyes in the entire world.

“gg boys.” she grinned toothily at the camera, and lando’s squawk of a laugh summoned you into the room.

lando was logging off when you walked in, watching from the doorway. leo was down for his nap, and matty was soon due hers.

“what are you two getting up to?” you chimed in, leaning into the wall.

“matty’s gonna be a gamer.” lando said in his sing-song voice, the one he reserved for when one of his kids did something that made his eyes sparkle.

“no call of duty.” you said sternly, looking at him pointedly.

“don’t worry, baby. f1 game only, she’s gonna be a racing driver.”

“just like her daddy.” you whispered, watching the duo high five in their matching hoodies.

landonorris via instagram

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landonorris: @/mclaren i’m gonna need a bigger car

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youruser via instagram

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youruser: big dad vibes 💘

-

7. long time coming

lando held his son tight, watching you and matty examine tiny sea shells in the little rock pools that were forming. the sun was setting over the monegasque beach, beams of pink and orange light bathing your family as it bounced off the soft waves.

leo was wriggling in lando’s arms, the two year old boy desperate to join his mother and his sister splashing around in the shallows, but lando kept a hold of him. leo was too mischievous for his own good, cheekier than the average two year old. perhaps it had something to do with who his father was.

“daddy, come look.” matty called, so lando waded into the water, ankle deep. that little girl had him wrapped around her finger. he cast his eyes over matilda’s inquisitive face, glancing at you for just a second, and that’s all it took for you to steal the air from his lungs.

you were more radiant than ever, as beautiful as the day he’d met you and fallen so helplessly in love. he hadn’t stopped falling in love since. you’d made him a father, you’d given him a family, you’d taught him what it was to be truly, unequivocally happy.

and now all you had to say was yes.

“that’s lovely, sweetie.” lando cooed at matty, eyeing the handful of seashells she’d collected. “wanna go play on the sand? we have that gift to give mummy.” lando winked at the little girl, who took off running, splashing sea water over you both.

once she was out of earshot, you turned to lando.

“you’re not pregnant, are you?” you teased, thinking back to the gift you’d given him those years ago, who was now tucked sleepily into lando’s chest.

“how did you know?” lando joked back.

he grabbed your hand, toes sinking into the sand as you made your way towards matty, who was fidgeting on the picnic blanket you’d laid out earlier. as soon as you reached her, lando gave her the sly nod, the signal that he’d taught her over the last few days, and her sweet little voice called out to you.

“mummy?”

“yes, my love?” you kneeled down on the blanket, eye level with your daughter.

“daddy wants to ask you something.” her doe blue eyes twinkled in the setting sun, and you whipped your head around to look at lando.

lando, who was down on one knee, balancing his son in one hand and the biggest fucking diamond ring you’d ever seen in the other.

“should’ve done this about four years ago, but we were busy popping out kids.” lando breathed, his eyes watery. you were already in tears. “my love, where do i even begin? i’m nothing without you, and every time i leave you, i leave my entire heart behind, so please, will you marry me?”

tears streamed down your face, and lando sat the squirmy toddler down next to his sister, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

you surged forward, the force of your movement leaving you both in the sand. you clung to him, lips meeting his with sweet urgency. you mumbled a million yes’s into the kiss, no one left in the world but you and him, and your two beautiful children.

and when you pulled away, you scooped your babies into your arms, holding them tight, knowing that you were in the presence of the purest form of love.

your little family, complete…

…for now.

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youruser: family day out 🥹🫠❤️‍🔥

-

i don’t know how to write fluff lol

-

taglist

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[hopelesslonelyghost]

poly!141 where the five of you go out for drinks and on the walk back to the car your heel gets stuck in a grate and when you try to pull it out it does not budge.

all the guys are laughing and poking fun at you. you huff and say “have at it!” and then hop over to a nearby bench and sit there with your arms crossed.

first attempt was johnny. he cracks his fingers and says, “watch an’ learn, lass.” and then proceeds to struggle to free your heel. after about like 5 minutes of trying he gets up, scratches his head and is like “uhhhh ah tried🧍”

one by one, you watch them all have a turn and twisting and turning and pulling, trying to get your heel to come out. but it just won’t.

you TRIED to hold in your laughter. you really did. but witnessing four of the strongest soldiers you know sorely losing against a stuck heel just has you in stitches. clutching your stomach, wheezing and laughing so hard you have to rub your back bc it’s cramping.

and then simon is like “fuckin’ hell!” and gives one last tug and breaks your heel.

and now you’re kinda sad bc you actually really liked them. and now you’re like “soooo how am i supposed to walk now?”

and johnny just shrugs, strides over to you, grabs your arm, yanks you up and uses that momentum to sling you over his shoulder.

you squeak and immediately go to pull the hem of your already very short dress down.

“johnny my ass is out!”

“meh, der’s no one bu’ us, lass. ‘sides, it’s not somethin’ we haven’t seen before.”

you pout.

simon just ruffles your hair and says something along of the lines of taking you to get a new pair.

kyle and john just laugh at the leftover piece of heel still fucking stuck.

“next time we carry you, yeah love?”

“sod off!”

[ellecdc]

Hey! How are you? Do you think you could write poly!marauders where everyone pranks Sirius by dressing up as him for halloween?

hahahahah this is so funny - thanks for the request!

poly!marauders x gn!reader who all dress up as Sirius for Halloween [1.1k words]

CW: Sirius vs Remus re: their coaster debacle, referring to Sirius as a slut/trollop/and himself referring to 'cheap hookers', it's all in good fun

“I think this might be my favourite prank yet.” Remus chuckled as he helped you lace up the black combat boots on your feet.

James’ head snapped up from where he’d been focused on ensuring the buckle of his belt sat just right, his black jeans hanging dangerously low on his hips leaving almost nothing to the imagination as he flashed you and Remus his most convincing Sirius Black wink.

It sort of occurred to you then - seeing your two other boyfriends and all of your shared friends dressed up as Sirius - that your boyfriend was kind of a slut.

“Kind of?" Marlene had snorted as she flipped an errant strand of black hair away from her face (and dangerously close to her lit cigarette, mind you). “Babes, your boyfriend is a trollop.” 

Lily came waltzing over to you in what she swore up and down was exactly how Sirius had 'swaggered’ his way through Hogwarts back in the day; white button down shirt barely buttoned at all, skin tight black jeans and black chunky boots, and hastily drawn tattoos in liquid eyeliner littering the vast amount of skin everyone’s Sirius Black costumes required to be visible.

“Hey there doll face.” She offered in as baritone she could manage to get her voice to go. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m a dog in bed.”

You let out a - very Sirius-esque, now that you thought of it - bark of laughter as you clapped excitedly. “This is going to be so good.” 

“How’d you all convince him to bugger off before a party?” Peter asked then, struggling with the wig as he tried to move it higher on his head and out of his eyes. “He’s usually half-way drunk about now and hanging off one of you lot.”

“Remus pretended to be miffed at him so-” James offered, cut off by Remus stating he was “absolutely not pretending; he’s asked Sirius Merlin knows how many times now to use a sodding coaster”. 

“So, in apology, Sirius offered to run to pick up the keg.” You finished as Remus and James argued about whether rings on the coffee table were really a punishable offence when there was already a cigarette burn in it, which started a whole new argument over who the fuck burned the coffee table. No one thought to mention that a quick spell would easily buff either out. 

“How selfless of him.” Lily sighed as he leaned back against the kitchen island with an arrogant sort of elegance - she really was nailing this Sirius impression. 

“Little did he know it was going to be his job anyway.” You snickered before you heard the door knob turning.

“Okay, okay, the keg is still in the car, but I also stopped by the department store and bought three packages of coasters. And you’ll never guess what! The coasters are-” 

But before you could hear what the coasters were, Sirius looked up to see his flat full of all of his friends and loved ones…dressed like him. 

“What the fuck?” Sirius mumbled quietly as everyone yelled “SURPRISE!”

“What do you think?” Marlene asked as she strutted towards Sirius not unlike she was on a catwalk, turning sharply in front of him and winking at him over her shoulder before stalking away again; Dorcas wolf-whistled at her the whole time whilst Lily hollered. 

Sirius made a sound bordering a laugh and a scoff as his mouth fell open in a proto-smile, eyes dancing over Dorcas, Marlene, Peter, Lily, Mary, Remus, James, you, and - fuckin’ hells - even the cat had a sodding leather jacket on. 

“Are….are you all dressed-”

“Like you!” Mary squealed excitedly, bounding in her place as she held her hands underneath her chin. “Don’t we look smashing?”

Sirius shook his head in disbelief as he let out a breathless laugh. “No; you all look like cheap hookers.”

A chorus of hey!’s and oi!’s and ‘we literally took these out of your wardrobe, Pads! sounded as James pulled Sirius into a headlock. 

“I’ll show you a cheap hooker.” James muttered into Sirius’ cheek as the two pretended to wrestle.

“Oh I’m counting on it, Jamie. Can’t wait.” Sirius called as James released him so he and Marlene could retrieve the keg from the car. 

“Surprise.” You offered quietly as Sirius accepted you into an embrace.

“I should have known you were behind all of this.” Sirius muttered in faux contempt before stamping the crown of your head with a kiss. “Was Moony’s mood just a ruse, then?”

“It wasn’t a sodding ruse, Sirius!” Remus shouted over the other party goers - Sirius paid him no mind. 

“I thought it would be fun! It’d be like a Sirius Black themed Halloween Party in honour of your birthday coming up!” 

Sirius' beaming smile fell into something softer as he trailed his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“You guys are too good to me.” He murmured, Dorcas sidling up beside him to look at the two of you incredulously. 

“Uhm, I find they’re rather mean to you, Black. I mean…this whole party was basically satire at your expense.” She said, plucking Sirius’ own leather jacket he had thrown over one of Remus’ jumpers which matched the leather jackets thrown over many of the party-goers as if to cement her point. 

“Oh and you’d know all about partners being mean to you, is that it, Meadows?” Sirius challenged back. “I hear the way Marlene talks to you.” 

“Yeah but Marly’s hot; bullying each other is just our love language.” Dorcas countered, shooting Marlene a wink over her shoulder which was quickly met by Marlene flipping her the bird. 

“Yeah well, pranking is ours.” James added with a pleased sigh as he and Remus joined the conversation. 

“I know it’s technically my birthday already,” Sirius started with a challenging look being shot at Remus as he reached into his jacket pocket, “but I got you a gift, Moons.” 

Sirius handed three small boxes that held six coasters each - each coaster in the shape of a vinyl record. 

“Awe, thanks Pads.” Remus said casually before shoving them back at his boyfriend. “Happy birthday Sirius! Use a sodding coaster.”

And to your absolute delight, everyone in the flat - in true Sirius Black fashion - chorused “okay Moons”, resulting in raucous laughter as drinks were passed out and the party finally commenced.

[girlactionfigure]

Jewish Defiance

Below is the speech I gave at a tiny, spirited protest of Jews - and their allies - who faced off a vast, snarling, swarm of pro-Hamas racists marching through London. Thank you to the organisers and those who turn up every week to show the indomitable defiance of the few.

This is a nice day out, isn’t it? What a lovely day out? Isn’t it nice to shlep into London when we could be doing anything else? We all really wanna be doing this on a weekend, don’t we? It ain’t what I want to be doing with my life. I don’t want to be here. I don’t think any of us wanna be here. These idiots are making us waste our time. But you wanna know what’s even more stupid? They’re wasting their time because they are not going to win. The State of Israel and the Jewish people are not going anywhere. We haven’t gone anywhere for three and a half thousand years. We’ve seen off the Romans, the Babylonians, the Nazis. We’ve outlasted all of them. And we’ll outlast these schmucks. Because antisemitic movements don’t have a long shelf life. History is not kind to the antisemite. And neither should we be. Any antisemite who transgresses should be made to suffer within the full scope of the law. They should be made to suffer consequences, socially, occupationally, legally.

Let’s be clear about who they are. We are not the same as them. They are fakes and frauds. Their calls for “ceasefire” aren’t about peace? You’re not for peace if you’re for globalising the intifada. You’re not for peace, if you’re calling for a Palestine from the river to the sea. You’re not for peace if you ignore, justify or excuse Hamas and their rocket attacks and their acts of terrorism against the Jewish People. You’re not for peace if you don’t condemn Hezbollah for firing rockets. You’re not for peace, if you don’t condemn the theocratic, Mullah regime of Iran and their complicity in all of this. You’re not for peace if you haven’t been calling for the complete and unconditional return of the hostages since day one.

If these liars on the streets of London were for peace they would be marching with Palestinian AND Israeli flags. But they aren’t. If they were for peace they would be screaming for the end of Hamas - a criminal rape gang of Islamic fundamentalists dedicated to jihad and the total extermination of all non-muslims. But they aren’t. These liars, these frauds, these Jew haters feign their tears and call for a ceasefire when the rapists Hamas are under the cosh, but they cheer when Israel is attacked. Sod them.

We on the other hand ARE for peace. There is no Jew that doesn’t want a world of peace and love. But you can’t shake hands with someone who’s trying to punch you in the face. And that is all our enemy does. Since Israel’s inception we have extended our hand in peace. But we have been met with punches, and knives, and rocks, and bullets, and car rammings, and rockets, and bombs, and rape, and torture, and murder and kidnapping. And if the world just expects us to take that. And to smile. And to say thank you world for allowing us to be murdered - then sod them. We are not the world’s punching bag, and we will not be sacrificed because of the non-Jewish world’s problems, or because of a superior, supercilious and utterly misplaced notion that they somehow own us and can dictate to Jews who we are, how we must live and how we are to die.

No one else decides our destiny. We do. When our destiny was in the hands of the world - the world bullied and slaughtered us. Zionism liberated us from the shackles of an abusive relationship with the world. And no one gets to tell us we go back into that relationship. The dynamic has changed. Get used to it. Zionism is the self-determination movement of the Jewish people. It is OUR liberation movement. Not yours. It is OUR civil rights movement. Not yours. The minute a non-Jew tries to define who the Jews are, or define Zionism or control our story - they prove exactly why we need Zionism - to liberate us - from them.

And like an abusive partner, many in the world can’t handle us being free. They can’t handle seeing us happy, thriving and getting on with our lives. Antisemites in Europe and America can’t handle seeing a Jewish minority making choices for themselves when they believe that they, the oh so cultured and civilised non-Jewish world, knows best. And antisemites in the muslim world can’t handle seeing a Jewish minority thrive outside the totalitarian confines of Islamic theocracy.

And so they come after us. Wanting to enslave us again. Not gonna happen. We will never be second class citizens or dhimmi again. And if you don’t like it that we fight back - good. I’m glad you don’t like it. Fuck around and find out. We’ll go as long as we need to.

And let me reiterate here: Jews don’t want violence. There are a million things we’d rather do. You are stopping us from achieving our full potential by making us have to fight you. We don’t want to spill blood. Jewish laws reiterate relentlessly the sanctity of blood. And then there was King David - who wasn’t allowed to build the Temple, because his hands were tainted with blood and the wars he had to fight. We are Jews and we wanna do good shit. We want to make advances in art, science and medicine for the good that it brings and for the joy of simply enriching our knowledge of this world.

Jews do not want war. But be under no illusion, if you bring it to us we will give you a war. Because there IS a time for war just as there’s a time for peace. And the time for war is when THEY come to kill us. Don’t fuck with Israel. Because our ancestors weren’t just shepherds and prophets and judges - they were warriors. And what was in them is in us. And just as they gave hell and triumphed over their enemies - we will give our enemies hell and we will triumph and we will win and then we will laugh and we will sing and we will dance - and with a bit of luck - we will make love and create more Jewish babies.

Look at the idiots out there who want to destroy us. They have to sing repetitive rhymes en masse - like morons in a cult - because they’re scared to be individuals. They’re scared to think for themselves. Scared to speak for themselves. They’re scared to be different. They’re scared to stand alone. They need nursery rhymes because they’re scared to engage in the complexities of an imperfect world. They’re morons.

Look at the numbers they have to gather in to feel brave enough to chant what they think? To shout that they want jihad and to kill every Jew between the river and the sea?

People who gather in that volume in order to shout at Jews are scared of Jews - and they should be. Because we’re fucking awesome. Being small in number is not a weakness. It is our superpower. It’s always been the Jewish superpower. It gives each of us ten times the resilience of those who rely on numbers. Never forget, no matter how surrounded you feel, strength is not in numbers, it is in your soul, it is in your heart and it’s in your resourcefulness. And we’ve got all of that. We are small in number but the things we’re each capable of are mighty. So go out every day and be mighty.

And don’t ever forget what Hamas did and what these people support. Darkness. They support darkness. There has never been more moral clarity to a fight than the one we face. What Hamas did on October 7th - demons from hell would ask them to be their teachers. And Hamas promise to do it again and again. A ceasefire is not peace. It’s a downpayment on future blood shed. It’s an investment in future war. The first step for the Middle East to even have a chance of peace is for Hamas to be gone.

Hamas are not the same civilisation as us. No peace can be made with them or anyone who thinks like them.

Our civilisation is worth protecting because it offers something good. The next time you’re in Jerusalem go and visit the Kingdom of David and you will see how precarious our origins were and how miraculous it is that we are still here and the responsibility we have to protect ourselves. David’s Kingdom was tiny. A tiny hillside that offered something new. A small outpost of light in a sea of darkness. It offered a revolution. It rejected what surrounded us. And what were we rejecting? We were rejecting the cruelty of those who engaged in child sacrifice. We were rejecting those who worshipped Moloch and set their own children on fire.

Now look at what’s happening today! Nothing has changed.

We’re facing an enemy who still sacrifice children. Deliberately. In Hamas we have an enemy who encourage their children to die, to blow themselves up, to set themselves on fire, to become so-called martyrs and shaheeds. We face an enemy whose parents praise Allah if one of their children blows themselves up with a suicide bomb to kill other children. We face an enemy that teaches their children in kindergartens, in schools, in mosques and in the home to die. We face an enemy that deliberately hides behind its own, and prevents them from seeking safety, so that they can be harmed in a war that THEY started. We should have no ambiguity and no doubt that we are on the side of good, and that good must triumph. Not just for us, but for this planet, lest that the ancient darkness faced by King David conquer every hillside and plunge the whole world into a night without end.

I want to leave you now with something important. The most important thing. What’s going on with our cruel and wicked enemies is deadly - but it’s also theatre. It’s designed to be a spectacle that scares you. It’s designed to make you crumble inside, give up and walk away. But it’s clear from your presence here today that you will not. And that none of you ever will. I wanna say that you are all fucking brilliant. All of you. You don’t even realise how brilliant you are. Seven months into the most disgusting war against us and here you all are standing tall, not backing down, ready to go on for as long as you need to. You are epic Jews, equal to any Jews of the past.

And don’t let the world spin your heads. Because mark these words: this is the best time to be a Jew in 2000 years. It is the best time to be a Jew in 2000 years. Because we’ve always had enemies. There have always been those who’ve risen up to kill us. But this time, this time we have the State of Israel. The Jewish People are home. They are in their indigenous homeland and they will never be uprooted again.

And because we have the State of Israel we will never be as vulnerable as our ancestors. As bad as things sometimes feel we will never know how vulnerable they felt when the rug was pulled from their feet. And they would be SO happy for us. We are the luckiest Jews in 2000 years. With Israel we can defend ourselves. We can fight back. We have an army. We have infrastructure. We have technology. For the first time in 2000 years the Jews can truly fight back. And if our enemies wanna bring it, they will know we can fight.

So you can be anxious now and then. But never, ever give in to fear.

In this life you can be scared. You can be messed up. You can even be fucked up. But the most important thing is to show up. Always show up and give a good account of yourself and with God’s grace we will always triumph. God bless you. Baruch HaShem.

LEE KERN

[whorediaries-09]

this ain't for the valentines thing ur doing, but imagine all the marauders and marls, lily and dorcas going to a beach getaway and reader falling in love, fucking, and starting to date siri there? p.s this is just a thought, i'm not sure if u've seen the movie, but a plot bunny of tu jhoothi main makaar maybe??

i cannot watch a movie to save my fucking life 🙏🏽. i'm sorry if it's not what you wanted but i tried my best. (the only way i can apologize is by doing a desi reader.)

getaway car;

pairing- sirius black x desi!reader warning(s)- sexual tension, 18+ content, substances. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- finally wrote a desi reader.

the slut club

it was a perfect getaway. to escape your heavy work schedule, for a weekend vacation. the sound of the waves called you into a spectrum of pleasurable bliss. you could smell the salty scent of the waves as you neared the beach, your tires working on the gravel on the path. you envisioned peaceful scenarios, running by the beach, or soaking yourself into the calm trepidation of the waves, or licking away your favourite ice cream under the blazing rays of the sun.

moreover, you envisioned your best friend and her fiancé finally tying the knot, getting married. lily evans to lily potter, and james finally marrying his dream girl. it brought you an immense peace. the gps on your phone beeped, informing you you’d reached the hotel lily had booked for you. so, you pulled into the parking zone of the hotel.

you wanted nothing but to fall into the soft mattress of the hotel bed. it called your name, and after almost an 8-hour drive, you were certainly famished to say the least.

****

the hot water on your back had been a heavenly escape from the pain you’d been feeling. you smelled good, you felt good and fresh, and ready for bed. you were shuffling through your suitcase, trying to find your pyjamas before you heard a knock on the door. it wasn’t unexpected, but certainly a rather weird timing. you had ordered food before you had gone to soak yourself into the warmth of the bath.

you had wrapped yourself into a bathrobe before you’d gotten out, since the windows in your rooms were rather huge. and you absolutely did not have the energy to pull down the heavy curtains. you certainly didn’t want a sneak peek scenario with some creepy person, so you decided to cover yourself up with a bathrobe the hotel had provided.

tightening the rope around your waist, you opened the door. it wasn’t food service. instead, you were met by grey stormy eyes you’d been dreaming about in the bathroom. not in a very friendly way but he didn’t need to know that.

‘evans told me to check on you…you certainly look like you’ve made yourself comfortable,’ he smirked, his eyes gazing over your body. you knitted your eyebrows, cracking your knuckled behind your back.

‘don’t be an idiot. i drove for 8 hours straight up!’ you exclaimed. sirius grinned at you, and your heart panged in your chest. you wanted to wipe it off. by kissing or punching didn’t matter.

‘well you didn’t want to come with us,’

‘you know I had work.’ you dead panned.

‘pfft, doesn’t even matter,’ he walked into your room.

‘hey! privacy,’

‘i’m going to give you a massage. so you’ll put your clothes on…or not-‘

that earned him a fabric thrown at his face. unfortunately it was your underwear. you groaned as he picked it up, staring at the soft pink piece, with strawberries on it. he chuckled, seemingly amused.

‘are you going to wear that to the ceremony!’

‘sod off, doesn’t matter.’

‘it sure certainly does. eitherway you put on clothes and i give you a massage,’

you put your hands on your waist, trying to read through his act. he threw his hands in the air, silently claiming he was innocent. you were the guilty one you thought. you were the once accusing him of something. you were the one who had replayed your very dirty thoughts in the bathroom.

you still were unconvinced. it was a known fact that sirius black was a man who was walking sex. his charm and appeal could break through anything. but it didn’t mean anything. you weren’t his type, not likely. he liked fun-loving women and men, not a someone who didn’t have much of a life other than her computer and work. and he had his boundaries…he wouldn’t think of seducing you.

‘okay. i’ll put on my clothes. look away,’ you said, giving in.

‘killjoy,’ he mumbled, turning away his head.

*****

your back was splayed across the sheets of the bed. his hands roamed over your spine, putting pressure just on the right spots. it felt nice…but you certainly didn’t feel satiated. you shuffled minutely, trying to adjust yourself.

‘is something the matter?’ he asked, removing his hand from your back. you stared at him. you weren’t sure how to frame the answer without sounding like a creep, but you did it anyway.

‘i-um, will you put your hand through my clothes?’

sirius was quiet. awfully so. a subtle pink dusted his newly tanned skin, as he bit on his lip.

‘you sure?’

‘uh huh,’

he slid his hand through your t-shirt pressing on the massage points. the cold metal of his rings contrasted perfectly on your hot skin. his thumb jolted into a point on the nape of your neck. you bit your lip, breathing heavily as hotness simmered under your body. the goosebumps tickled your senses, letting out a soft moan at the relief you felt.

you were falling. falling into the natural tension aroused into the room. falling into the trap of your hormones. falling into the haze of lust and desire as he leaned closer, letting you a whiff of his cologne infused with the tobacco of his cigarettes.

his finger traced a throbbing nerve on your neck, as your mind hazed with his movement. he was so close to your face; you could see his pupils dilating every passing second. the lust of desire in his eyes grew every passing second, the grey clouds in his eyes fusing with the intense storm. you gulped as your shaky hands reached out to cradle his face, tracing his skin with your thumb. he leaned into your touch, falling closer to your face, his lips practically brushing with yours.

‘room service,’ the doorbell rang, startling the both of you. he slipped his hand out of your t-shirt, quickly leaning away from you. he jumped from the spot on your bed, putting on his shoes.

‘i- i should leave,’ he mumbled, opening the door and walking out, leaving your flustered and hot. you accepted the food, paying the man who’d broken the moment.

groaning, you pushed your face into the pillow.

****

it was a beautiful sight, the screaming oceans, the salty scent of waves. marlene and dorcas were sharing an ice cream, trying to be very calm about sharing saliva. dorcas had her book open, and marlene had her face covered with a ridiculous large hat. it was painful to see, and you wondered why they didn’t kiss already. it was peter, accompanied by remus, who voiced your thought aloud as he brought you an ice cream. you smiled,

‘thanks, pete, you’re a peach,’ the boy flushed exactly like the fruit.

‘and i’ve been wondering why they don’t kiss, already, too,’

‘i know! i looked into their horoscope, and it’s like, they’re a match made in heaven. it’s so painful to see, when they’re so obviously in love,’

‘they must be stupid or their skulls must be thick with the love they have for each other,’

‘you’re being mean,’ the tall lanky male interrupted. he was nibbling on a piece of toast smothered in jam.

‘it is what it is,’ you shrugged, peeling off the wrapper of the ice cream. you bit into it, and the flavour melted into your taste buds.

the sun shone down on the waves, burning up your skin. sirius thought you were ethereal. under the bask glow of the sun. your hair tousled with the playful wind. your skin was magnificent under the rays of the sun.

your tongue rolled on the dessert you held in your palm. he wondered how your tongue would feel upon his. the ice cream smeared upon your lips. he wanted to lick it off. it was a glowing, carnal desire which burned him from within. he wanted to succumb into the feel of your skin, the scent of your body wash, the sounds that left your pretty mouth.

so, he grabbed a bottle of sunscreen. he’d make you his, he decided. it was his mission now. the chase didn’t matter. his desire for you rooted deep within him. and he wanted you in every way possible. he craved for the feel of your skin again.

‘darlin’ you think you can put some sunscreen on me?’ he approached you. you looked at him through your sunglasses.

‘you owe me,’ he drawled. his mind wandered over to the ideas he had when he had you under him, breathing so heavy. how he wanted to rip off the t-shirt off you, stick his head between your thighs, and have you right then and there. how he wanted to taste you, consume you, make you his.

‘i do,’ you agreed. he smiled coyly, sitting on your deckchair. you sat behind him, splotching the cream on his back.

a charged silence settled between the both of you as neither of you spoke about the incident. you rubbed the cream on his back, letting yourself feel his skin underneath yours. you silently appreciated the tattoos inked on his skin. it made him appear more roguish, more charming than he already was.

you felt goosebumps on his skin as you moved to his chest, trailing down to his abs, and his happy trail. you felt his heartbeat pace as you rubbed on his pectorals. his breath heaved. he leaned back, unconsciously resting his head against your shoulder. the scent of the waves overwhelmed against the scent of his musk cologne.

he hid his face in the nape of your neck, holding your hand against his heart. his tongue prodded against your throbbing nerve. he moved his lips slowly against the skin, drawing out a hungry moan from you. you arched your hips slowly, as he slowly bit your skin.

‘you make such pretty sounds,’ he whispered. you nodded your head, slowly falling into a haze of lust again. heat pooled at your core and you bit your lip, as he slowly peppered kisses on your hot skin.

‘feel my heart? it’s all for you. all because of you,’ he says. he removed his face from your neck, nearing yours, his lips so close. the heat of the sun drawled on his tanned skin, and he smiled, almost capturing your lips with his.

he could’ve, if james didn’t throw a ball right at his chest.

‘i’m sorry pads!’ he screeched before he came running towards you and him. you scooted away from him, the instructions on the sunscreen bottle suddenly very interesting. james was oblivious to the situation.

‘kaisi ho? maza aa raha hain na yaha pe?’ he asked you. (how are you? you’re enjoying yourself here right?’)

‘shaadi tumhari ho rahi hain james, meri nahi. tum batao kaisa lag raha hain,’ (i’m not the one getting married, james. how are you feeling?’)

‘mujhe bohot… aise pyar vyar wali feeling aa rahi hain,’ he replied, throwing you a cheeky grin. (i’m feeling very lovey-dovey.)

you laughed. it wasn’t a real laugh, considering you were so close to kissing sirius. you groaned internally. the vacation didn’t even feel like a getaway to peace. it felt like a curse; now that you’d felt his lips on your skin. you didn’t think you’d be able to escape the curse.

*-

the scent of burning s’mores filled the air. it escaped into scent of champagne and the platters of food and chatter. alice was sitting on frank’s lap, enjoying glass after glass of champagne. frank let out puffs of smoke through his lips, watching alice with a hypnotized look in his eyes. he was smitten with her, and it was disgustingly sweet. it was the same with marlene and dorcas.

marlene had decided to escape the presence of dorcas, and was now sitting beside you, roasting s’mores.

‘ugh, she’s so fine, i wanna have her babies,’ she rambled, like the raging woman she was. you wanted to slap the both of them in an aggressive nonaggressive way to get their shit together.

‘bitch, you don’t want me to slap you,’ you threatened, biting into a s’more.

‘you’re not very scary with chocolate running down your fingers,’

‘i might change my mind and slap you, marls,’

‘ouhh kinky, i like it,’

‘say that to dorcas,’

‘nahh’ you stared at her. for someone who peaked in high-school, she was very daft when it came to her feelings.

‘i’m going,’ you gave up, trying to convince her.

‘ay, don’t be gussa with me!’ (don’t be angry with me)

‘where’d you learn that!’

‘james,’ you sighed. ‘now give me some advice,’

‘okay how about, you go and kiss dorcas on her lips,’

‘fine, you’re not willing to give me some advice,’

‘then go ask peter or something,’ marlene groaned.

truth be told, you were tired of telling the either to just confess. it was excruciating. you didn’t mind speaking a thousand times through their thick if it got your friends together, but you were still flustered from the morning’s events.

as the trip came towards the end, you realized it was for your own good. the seed of desire for sirius only grew within you, and you hated yourself for it. but it didn’t matter. as long as you were away from him, you’d be able to stay away from him. now you just had to tolerate sirius in a tuxedo, and flee. you were a grown woman, you could do it…

‘hey,’ your train of thought process was interrupted by the very man you’d been thinking about.

‘can i have one?’ he seemed unfazed, as if he hadn’t spoken dirty to you in a beach full of people, leaving you flustered. you hated it. it was as if he was playing with you, getting your hormones build up, for you to jump his bones at any given moment.

you handed him one anyway. you finally looked at him. it was painful, how the flames lighted up his high cheekbones, highlighting his best features. his face was framed by his raven locks. his lips looked so supple, so kissable. you hated how your heart panged against your ribcage. his hand cradled your face, as he wiped off chocolate off your lips.

you’d much rather he lick it off. you hated the control he held over you. you wanted to punch him for making you feel that way. it was pure agony when he played with you. how he let you have a taste of himself, but never let you close enough to consume him. you hated it.

it was wrecking you from inside. you hated how he made you feel so much, yet leave you flustered, never succumbing into your desires. you hated it so much. you wanted to punch yourself for it.

sirius licked off the chocolate off his fingers, flexing his long, slender digits. he watched your eyes wander on his lips, how your throat sucked in a breath at his action. he liked how flustered you became, for someone so headstrong. so, just to play with you, he leaned closer to your face.

‘i'll always finish what i start,’

the way he said it had you clenching your thighs together.

*****

the ceremony was a blast. marlene had finally kissed dorcas. lily and james had finally exchanged their vows. the air was blooming with love and alcohol. the fireworks were beautiful, so where the pictures. remus had even managed to get one were marlene finally kissed dorcas.

it was a pleasant evening, the cool breeze flowing through the air. the music ran through your veins, and so did shared cigarettes and alcohol. while you weren’t much of a drinker or a smoker, it felt good to let go for once.

it felt like a refreshment. but the back of your mind always reeled back to your thoughts. the thoughts that told you this would end soon. it was momentary bliss after all. a temporary getaway where everyone would relax and be free from the clutches of their respective everyday routine.

‘hi, darling, what ya thinking?’ his voice like velvet. smooth and raspy it fell on your eardrums, pulling you out of your reverie. to add on, you were drunk. and flustered by the very person who was speaking to you.

‘i’m thinking if i can sneak a cute guy for a dance,’ you replied, smoothly. your lips puffed out smoke on his face, and you felt him grab your hand through the smoke. you saw the coy lopsided smile on his face as he grabbed the thin roll of intoxication between his fingers. there was something divine, and dark in his eyes as he put it between his lips, taking in a deep puff of your cigarette.

you imagine the smoke rolling onto his tastebuds, seeping through them, intoxicating them. you imagine it poisoning his lungs. your heart palpitates, your head falls into a haze as he leans in closer to your face. you feel the smoke cloud your eyesight. it’s immensely harsh, and the time seems to stop. it’s like there’s no one in the world but the both of you. hotness creeps into every inch of your body. you’re drained by it, as you fall into a spiral of lust blooming inside of you.

so, when he finally touches your lips with his, and rolls his tongues with yours, his teeth clashing with yours, you lose yourself into a haze of ecstasy. he tastes you like poison. he consumes your soul till you’re left with a meticulous heartbeat against your ribcage.

you don’t realize when you’re against the door of his room, or how you get there. you remember ravaging his lips, his touch hot against your skin. you remember how he bites your lip, drawing out blood on your tongues. the metallic taste floats and seeps like an intoxication.

your hands wrap around his neck , bringing him closer, as he stumbles, opening the door of the room. the clothes feel like a barrier against the feeling of lust he gets you high on. they’re off before the either of you know it.

so, you’re pushing his back against the mattress, straddling his waist, letting him penetrate you. he fits into you deliciously, stretching out your pulsing walls with a hot stretch that leaves you aching for more. his tip touches your g-spot perfectly, and you leave a guttural moan from the depths of your throat, rolling your hips as he gasps. his hands bruise over your hips, and you capture them, holding them above his head, trailing your lips against his neck, rolling your hips against his.

‘not so soon, love you’ve teased me for so long…’

he groans under you, pushing himself deeper into you, arching his hips. you gasp, as the trimmed edges of his pubic hair tease your clit. you knew what he wanted. it was a dangerous game, because you wanted exactly the same.

‘aise tarapte hue kinte sundar lagte ho,’ you tease, even though you know he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. (you look so pretty begging like that.) he whimpers, and you give in to his desire and touch. it’s pure heaven when you rock your hips, letting go of his hands. he wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer, thrusting himself into you.

the sound of skin slapping paired with moans and gasps fills the room. you finally cave into your fantasy, letting him take control. he bruises his fingernails into your skin, and you dig your nails into his back with each thrust. it’s intoxicating; the feeling of pleasure that overwhelms you.

your souls speak, intertwine as you lose yourself into the euphoria that simmers under your delirious need. your walls flutter around him, the coil in your stomach tight. he grips his teeth into your neck; feeling your heartbeat through your artery. he consumes you completely into his touch, lets out a deranged spirit within you when your eyes roll backwards, your toes curl and your thighs shake.

you’re wordless, breathless when you finally release, chanting his name stringed with profanities, his cock still in you, as he chases his own release. he presses a hot kiss on your forehead when you clench your walls, and whisper,

‘cum for me, sirius,’

a symphony of your name and moans fall into your ears like a cacaphony before he lets go into you. his hot seed spills into you, filling you up. he’s breathless, painting you with his kisses, marking spots on your neck.

‘i told you, i always finish what i start.’

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now | The Aftermath

House or Home?

It’s been about a year or so and they're finally looking at moving in together, properly this time, but Mouse is stubborn and Matty’s… Matty. 

“I hate it.”

Matty all but deflated at the three words, eyes sweeping over to where the estate agent was still stood in the kitchen doorway to the pretty four bedroom house they’d found in South Hampstead. 

In her defence, she still had that godawful smile plastered across her face, as though the entire statement bothered her none, but her eyes told a different story. They were screaming.

Matty couldn’t blame her, not when this was the eighth house Mouse had turned down this week alone. And it was only fucking Tuesday.

“Squeaks, babe.” Matty quietly attempted, mouth opening once more in an effort to get the woman to see sense. The house had everything they were looking for, it was more than perfect and how could it not be with an actual garden that Teddy could run rampant in and a sodding wine cellar to boot. 

But she cut him off, spinning around on her heel to shake her head at the agent in a silent apology. “Sorry. It’s just not gonna work.” It was all that was said before she took off, leaving Matty standing there awkwardly with the estate agent, hands tucked in his back pockets like a kid meeting their mum’s new boyfriend for the first time.

The woman, lovely girl named Mila, slumped slightly but kept up the act, pretending like all was fine and dandy, probably more than used to dealing with shit like this. 

“Sorry love, it’s just a big decision. You know?” Matty tried to soothe, lips pulling into a thin smile made mostly of regret. And it was exactly that– a big decision. 

It had been just over a year since that whole fallout had happened with the media and the sudden silence between them. And shit had cropped up every now and again after it; his management team had been a fucking nightmare to coerce and convincing themselves that this thing that they had was worth trying for had been daunting. But they’d put it all behind them in the end, they’d moved on.

And now here they were, buying a house. A home. Because Teds was getting bigger and bigger by the day, enough so that he now had a proper big boy bed and could ride a bike that took up a chunk of his bedroom. But also because Matty suddenly had a shit ton of crap to relocate since he’d moved out of and sold his London gaff, having slowly slunk his way into the flat he’d come to think of as home. 

All in all, Mouse’s was simply running out of room to hold them all.

Mila waved his apology off though with a single hand gesture, tucking the ipad she constantly held under her right arm. “It’s fine, I get it. Every client’s different.” She told him easily enough, but her smile was still so weary when she looked back at him, “I’ll get to looking for a couple more properties for you.”

Matty nodded, but let his eyes flit back over to the antique cabinets he could so easily picture Teds hiding in whilst they played a round of hide-and-seek, as well as the large kitchen island that they could all use for big get-togethers or family dinners. He gave a halfhearted sigh before allowing himself to take a small step back and follow Mila when she started to turn. “‘Spose this happens all the time then?” He asked her, hoping to fill the quiet walk from the kitchen to the front door.

There was a small pause, and then, “Sure.”

Wincing at that, Matty was more than a little thankful to be walking a step behind the woman, especially when they stepped out the front door onto a porch that screamed American Dream and spotted Mouse propped up against the Jeep’s passenger door. 

He tried to give Mila another polite smile when she told him that this had been the last viewing she would have for them for a little while and that she’d soon be in touch. Matty just shook her hand, thanking her again for her time, before they parted ways and he was walking back on over to the car.

He slid into his seat, hearing Squeaks follow, and didn’t say a word as he backed out of the paved driveway, admiring the stonework that lined the verdant grass and the fenced gate as they drove out of it. With one final glance at the house in the rearview mirror, he reached out to switch the radio on, the AC quickly following.

It was just as he made a left turn at the end of the quaint street that Matty heard a small intake of breath, he waited for the eventual…

“It just didn’t feel right.”

Even with the slight frustration he felt, Matty licked at his lower lip and looked right to hide the slight smile he wore. He hummed softly over the low buzz of the speakers, “You’ve said that about the last sixteen, baby.”

Mouse let go of a harsh breath and Matty felt his grin grow. “Well, then I guess the last sixteen didn’t feel right!” She retorted and threw her hands up in exasperation before crossing them over her chest, fingers moving to toy with the elbow of her sleeve. “I’ll know it when I see it, okay?”

Matty flicked an amused brow in the direction of the passenger seat and received a scornful glare for it in return, so he merely resorted to surrendering, glancing back out at the empty road ahead. “Okay.”

They stayed in a quiet little bubble the whole drive back to the flat. Matty’s mind stuck on the house they’d just viewed, on the long winding staircase, the extra bedrooms it offered, that waterfall shower. By his standards, it would’ve been perfect. It should have been.

It took a little wrangling but he did eventually manage to find a space to park on the overflowing sidestreet that their flat resided on when they finally got home, but it was at that point that Squeak’s phone rang. She moved on autopilot after answering it, unbuckling her seatbelt swiftly whilst Matty turned the car off and locked up.

She had a slight crease between her brow as they made their way up the few short steps which led to the front door and tugged a hand through her hair just as he worked the key into the worn gold lock. 

“Yeah, I can do that. Ah, just–” Matty listened to her pause in the entryway and glanced back, waiting by the radiator for her to shoot a quick glance his way so that he could ask a silent question with just a single look. She mouthed Teddy’s name before she was speaking into the phone again, only proving to puzzle Matty further. “Alright, can you hang on just a sec? Alright, thanks.”

Matty watched closely as she pressed the phone to her chest to muffle any sound the speaker might pick up and chewed on her lower lip. “What’s happened?”

Mouse raked her hand through her hair again and blew out a breath, “Teds has hit his head at school, they say he’s fine but the bumps come up quick. Need him to be picked up.”

It was immediate the way Matty’s pulse quickened at the implication of Teddy having been hurt and so he was pretty hasty as he moved to grab the keys he’d just set down on the hallway’s side, already gravitating towards the door before Mouse could even utter another word. “I can be there in ten minutes, just let them know it’ll be me coming, yeah?”

A year ago, Squeaks would’ve reeled a bit at the entire situation, what with Matty taking charge on matters where her son was concerned and on her not being the one to drop everything just to go and pick him up, but now she barely batted an eye. Instead, Matty watched on as she nodded, face full of relief as she stepped forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek before she was speaking into the phone again, demanding to know what had gone down.

Matty slipped back out the front door with a slight rattle, his typical gait quickening as he hurried on over to the car, jumping in and starting it up once more before he could even think to worry about finding a better parking space than this when they eventually got back. Mind focused solely on getting to Teddy.

In the time Matty had known the kid, Teddy had only gotten sick twice. The first time had been this little bug, it had given him a bad belly and a bit of a cough but hadn’t affected him all that much. Still, Matty had fretted all the same, nursed him back to health and had barely left his side, even if that had meant listening to the same episode of Blue’s Clues on repeat for three days straight. The second though, that had been a lot more frightening.

Winter had rolled its way back around as it tended to do and the usual flu had taken its hold. Matty himself had picked something up off of one of their roadies during the promotional tour they’d been doing for the latest album in Europe. The tour had only lasted a couple of weeks, but he’d still been jumping back and forth between this city and that just so that he could see Teds and Squeaks as often as possible. But that in itself had also meant that Teddy had ended up catching the same bout of flu, too.

Matty had been beside himself when he’d first heard, guilty for the fact that he’d had the precious little gremlin sniffling down the phone on their next call. But Mouse had just laughed and shook her head at him, promising that Teds would be as right as rain soon enough. But not even she could have prepared for the way the kid had taken a sharp turn overnight.

Jamie had shaken Matty awake at four am, not long after they’d managed to make it to Sheffield and hunker down for the night in some swanky hotel. He’d been bleary eyed and still recovering from the relentless cough that had been wreaking havoc on his lungs for the past week when he’d rolled over to find his manager's nervous face staring down at him. 

Teddy’s fever has spiked, he’d said.

It had been a freight train of emotions after that. Jamie had somehow managed to score him a flight down from Manchester to London in less than a half an hour. But by that point Matty had already been in the back of a cab, trembling hands texting with Adi whilst the woman had updated him on every single thing that had occurred back home. 

Seemed that Teddy’s temperature had risen so quickly, having jumped from a steady 38 to 42 in less than an hour, which had prompted the most agonising hospital trip of Matty’s entire life. And that was including each time he’d fucked up and been wheeled there himself. 

It had taken him just over two hours to get down to them, so by that point Teddy had only just been properly seen and Mouse was in silent hysterics. Adi had ordered Finn to come pick him up from the airport, but back then the two of them had still been in this awkward sort of stalemate and so neither had spoken a word apart from when the other man had finally attempted to calm Matty’s anxious tapping. 

“He’ll be okay.” It was all that he had said, but Matty had found himself nodding along in quiet agreement all the same whilst he’d rattled his phone against his knee, ready to jump out of the car at a second's notice.

Driving over to collect the kid from school now, Matty felt that same agitation. The need to just be there, to see for himself that Teddy was okay. It was all that he could do to not hightail it over and fuck every traffic law he could somewhat remember just to ebb the sinking feeling that had wormed its way into his gut.

He did eventually manage to get there, making it in just under ten minutes after he’d accidentally ran a red and parked in a teacher's bay outside. 

The receptionist startled a tad at his sudden appearance, eyes probably as big as saucers and darting about the room in hopes to find Teds stood waiting there for him. But the kid was nowhere to be seen, and so Matty crossed the room to speak to her.

“Hi, here to collect Teddy? You rang, said something about him hitting his head?”

Matty had dropped Teddy to and from school more times than he could count, but collecting him from the office? That was something he’d never done before. Never even thought about, actually. And so he was fucking unsure on what the fuck kind of etiquette these people were supposed to use here. Did she need his ID, his passport? A picture of him and Teddy ice skating?

“Oh! Okay then, I’ll just fetch him for you. If you could sign him out here for me?” She pointed towards a clipboard and pen sat just off to the side and then smiled one last time before she wandered away.

Matty blinked and watched her slip out a side door. Was that it?

All he had to do was just sign the kid out? 

Matty released a heavy breath and shook his head at the thought, figuring it best to just do as was expected and have a word about it with Squeaks later on, maybe it was just something he was missing.

As it happened, he’d just finished scrawling down the last of his name when the door inside the office squeaked open causing him to jolt the y in Healy as his head snapped up.

It was as though all the tension he’d ever felt seeped out of him in that very moment. Years of stress from fucking performing, of trying to get through his own stupid exams back at school, and maybe even the trouble of having dealt with his parents and their shitty divorce. All of it just vanished when he looked over to find Teddy already grinning at him with his little book bag slung over his shoulder and a Spidey plaster stuck to the side of his eyebrow.

“Matty!” Teddy all but squealed as the kid darted away from the receptionist to barrel headfirst into his legs. Matty felt his heart give out a little at the sight of the tyke, obviously not as traumatised as he’d been expecting him to be.

“Alright, monster?” He replied softly, bending down a tad to scoop Teddy up into his arms, eyes flickering over every inch of his face just to be certain he wasn't hiding any other injuries. “Heard you had a bit of a tumble.”

Teddy nodded, almost excitedly, and Matty fought not to shake his head, utterly bewildered by the fact that the kid wasn't more phased. He almost wanted to scream, in truth. This amount of worrying wasn’t typical, alright? And he was fucking getting up there in age! All the stupid shit he’d managed to achieve during his livelier years and the life choices he’d made added up in the end, didn’t they? So it was an honest to God miracle that he hadn’t suffered a sodding aneurysm on the way over here, or something of the sort. 

“Just a little fall apparently.” Matty heard someone say and he looked up only to be reminded of the fact that the receptionist was still standing there, watching. She gifted him a sweet smile, eyes caught on the way Teddy clung to his neck and the way he appeared to cling back. “There’s an accident report in his bag for you to look at, they go home with all the little ones. The nurse said it wasn’t anything too big and that he should be fine, but it’s best to keep an eye on these things so if anything out of the ordinary does happen it’s best to take him to the local A&E.”

Matty felt his mouth go dry at the very implication and so he wet his lower lip just before he exhaled a little shakily. “Right,” He swallowed thickly, hand smoothing over a riot of curls and pausing on the small bump he felt at the top of Teddy’s head. “And the plaster?”

The woman blinked and weirdly Matty felt a little caught out, as though he was suddenly this afternoon's entertainment. He wondered briefly if she knew just who he was. 

“That’ll have been jotted down on the report too, but from what I heard it was just a little cut above the brow.” The receptionist answered him, extending an arm out to pat Teddy’s back before she stepped away again, “You really were brave today, Teddy.”

The kid puffed up at that, smiling proudly, but his eyes remained glued on Matty and so he returned the bright grin, kissing the side of Teddy’s head before he hitched him up further on his hip. “No stitches then?”

“Tiniest of scratches.” The woman assured him around a wide smile as she shook her head and waved his worries off.

Matty dipped his head in a slight nod, looking down at Teddy once more. “Anything else I need to do then, or?” He asked, letting that or drag out as he inched closer towards the door he’d previously barreled through.

“You should be good to go.” She told him, eyes still lingering. “It was nice to meet you though!”

“Yeah,” Matty replied as he struggled with the door, “you too.”

By the time the pair of them made it back outside and into the car Teddy was keeping up a constant babble, explaining (but not actually) just how he’d fallen and hit his head. From what Matty could make out it was when he was running to escape the fishmen? And so he could only guess that him and his mates had been playing a weird round of a tag at breaktime and Teddy had taken a plunge into the wrong kind of waters. 

“You’re sure you’re okay though, mate?” Matty asked him once they were about a minute or two away from the flat and Teddy’s ramblings had died out a tad. He glanced in the rear mirror to find Teds picking at the plaster above his brow.

“Uhuh.” Was the answer he received in turn and it was enough to dislodge the last of that worry that had been eating away at his chest. 

Matty figured then was as good a time as any to try and talk with him a little. The whole drive back from viewing that house, before they’d gotten the scare from the school, he’d been thinking and thinking. Enough to have concocted the beginnings of a small plan. 

“Remember how we was talking about looking for a new house, Teds?”

Matty’s thumbs tapped at the top of the steering wheel as he waited for a reply, oddly grateful for the small queue of traffic that sat up ahead. It would give them a bit more time.

“Yeah, you said a garden!” Teddy answered him and Matty figured he seemed excited enough about it all when the toe of the kid’s school shoe kicked the back of his chair. “That could mean a dog, right? Taylor has a dog!”

Matty fought back a laugh, the lad’s only just performed a stunt that’s gone tits up and landed him with a wound to the head but he’s more worried over when or if they’ll be getting a dog. Though, to be fair to him, a dog did sound nice. He could picture one now, out there on that grassy patch of land behind that particular house rolling about with Teddy. 

“That’s cool, mate. But I was just wondering what you thought about it all. A new house could mean a bigger bedroom for you, you know? Could have a couple sleepovers maybe, with a few of your friends from school.”

Matty didn’t have to glance back to know that Teddy’s eyes had shot open wide, he heard it all in that delighted little gasp he made. He chuckled.

“And remember my old house? How we used to make pancakes in the kitchen whenever you and mum would stay over?” Matty reminded him, eyes flicking up into the mirror to watch Teds nod at him, “Reckon we could do that again in the new house ‘cause it’d be a lot bigger, means we could all fit in there. Could even do your homework whilst we cooked in the evenings. How’s that sound?”

“Don’t like homework though.”

Matty laughed as the traffic started to pick up again, he moved to shift into gear. “Me neither, little man. But you’re a whole lot smarter than me so I reckon if we roped mum into helping too it’d all be done a lot quicker. And we could do that in the new house, don’t you reckon?”

“Yeah, and then I could get my Spidey walls!” Teddy exclaimed, bouncing in his carseat now, enough so that Matty was honestly a little fretful that he’d fall out of the thing. 

“You remembered that one, hey?” 

“You promised, ‘member!” Teddy shot back at him just as Matty turned onto their street, shoulders slumping in relief when he found that there was a space free a little further down.

“Yeah, I do, mate. Swear I haven’t forgotten.” He reassured and smiled to himself as he parked up and continued to listen to the dreams Teddy had for his future bedroom. And fuck anyone who thought he wouldn’t make them happen.

The two of them walked down the street hand in hand once Matty had pulled the monster free from his homemade rocking chair– and made sure that the thing was as secure as it should be. Teddy was happy to talk away, squealing when he caught sight of next door’s tabby cat and then bouncing in Matty arms when he had just about managed to scoop the kid up before Teds had gone bounding into the road to follow the skittish thing. 

By the time they’d made it in through the front door, Matty was sure he couldn’t take much more after the emotional rollercoaster he’d been on most of the day. 

“Squeaks?” He called out whilst he coaxed Teddy into kicking off his shoes and jacket, only just managing to peel the bookbag off the kid when Mouse came into view.

“Mama! Look at my Spidey sticker!” Teds called out as he tumbled on over to the woman, pointing to his head. In truth, it was a mystery how he didn’t take another tumble then and there, what with the way he was skidding about all over the floors. 

Matty let go of a weighted sigh and took to shucking off his own shit, dropping his boots onto the shoe stand before he hung up his jacket beside Teddy’s. When he stood back on his feet Teds had already hurried off into the living room, happy to be home from school again it seemed and not caring about the grape sized lump protruding from the side of his head.

Mouse quirked a brow at him when he stepped nearer, hiding her amused smile at his wary appearance, but still willing to let him wrap his arms around her waist and his head fall against her neck. “Okay, lovely?” She murmured into his hair and Matty felt himself nod slightly.

“Shattered.”

“Life of having kids, babe.” Squeaks chuckled, running a hand through his curls before resting it on the nape of his neck, “Thank you for going to get him.”

Matty pulled away to frown down at her, brow pinched. “Don’t thank me, you muppet. It’s weird.”

She simply resorted to snorting at the reply he’d given and then smiled, “I just appreciate it, is all. That alright with you?”

Rolling his eyes, Matty pinched her side before he slipped away. “Nope. But you can make it up to me by making dinner?”

He received a halfhearted scowl at the attempt but her smile was warm and soft and everything he loved, so he didn’t worry too much as he went to join Teddy on the settee.

Apparently, he hadn’t really needed to ask about dinner because it seemed as though Mouse had already had the foresight to have gotten a start on it when he’d been gone. So after he’d made sure that Teds was sweet and honed into his show, he’d peeled himself off the comfy cushions and headed into the kitchen to help out. 

Cooking together was something Matty had always loved. In the early days, he’d just been content to sit there and watch her work. But now he enjoyed helping out, even if it meant being bossed about or bumping into one another in the too small space.

It was just when they brushed against one another again, as she bent down to open the oven door that he only just narrowly missed toppling over the side of, that Matty could no longer hold his tongue on the subject.

“This place feels like it’s getting smaller and smaller by the day.” 

His words were merely met by a low hum whilst Squeaks continued to check on the food. Matty spared another halfhearted glance around the cramped kitchen, at the small wooden table and the tiny fridge tucked up under the counter. Then at the washing machine that was on its last legs and the pile of pots and pans they had no space for. 

“That house we saw was massive, kitchen was sort of like one of those you’d find in a catalogue, don’t you think?” He pressed a little further, tongue toying with the back of his front teeth as he struggled not to peer back over at her to witness her reaction. “Wouldn’t be bumping into one another all the time if we chose something like that.” He chuckled, but the sound of it was quickly cut short by the slam of the oven door.

“What, so you don’t like bumping into me anymore?” Mouse asked and Matty shifted to find her standing there by the hob, tea towel fisted in the hand she held at her hip. “‘Cause I do. I like coming home to you, to us spending time with each other, even if it’s in silence. I enjoy brushing past you in the kitchen and in the hallway, and even in the bathroom when you claim you have to brush your teeth the very second I do!”

Matty blinked.

“I love this flat, Matty. I love the fact that the rent’s cheap! That we’re chummy with the landlord and the neighbours aren’t half bad. That I can count on them to watch Teddy if something ever did happen!” Mouse exclaimed, staring back at him with those big eyes of hers, chest almost heaving.

“Teddy’s first steps were taken here!” She continued on, as though it had just slowly been building up inside her and had suddenly found its chance to blow. She paused, only to point up at the ceiling to where a splodgy patch of something hung above them, “See that stain? That’s from when Teds had his first bowl of bolognese. And that chip in the tile right there? That’s from when you dropped that planter you got me after you’d come home from tour!” 

Matty stared down at the chip now, noting that it wasn’t the only imperfection in the mosaic of tiles, but one that he could remember making as clear as day.

His silence must have lingered on too long though because Mouse then took his wrist and led him out of the kitchen, she stopped short to point at the plethora of guitars that crowded a corner of the living room. “And how about that mark on the wall? The one made when Ross and George came over for Halloween and all those guitars went toppling over as they chased after Teds.”

Teddy was watching them now, eyes having wandered away from the tele set and over to where Squeaks gripped his hand a little tighter to tug him along behind her and into the hallway. 

She paused by the door to Teddy’s room and Matty already knew what was coming.

“You told me you loved me here.” She murmured, stealing the breath right out of his lungs, before she then turned to spare a glance at the front door. “And we can’t forget that door.”

Matty breathed out a faint chuckle, his startled gaze moving to find hers in the dimly lit hall, only her eyes were glassy and darting back and forth between his own, almost pleadingly. 

“I know it’s too small. And I know we can’t stay here forever. But it’s home. It’s a place made up of all my best memories, Matty.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Because suddenly he realised that this was why she had claimed that she had hated every house that they had gone to look at. Why she had been so adamant on getting it right, on finding the right one. Why she had made up excuse after excuse to get out of viewings, to turn each one of them down.

Matty reached over to cradle her face before he pulled her in close, hands falling to hold her. He smiled softly when he caught a flash of movement just out of the corner of his eye. It was barely a gesture, let alone a nod of his head, but Teddy knew what it meant all the same and bolted over from where he’d been standing in the doorway of the living room to join them.

Matty understood then. That the flat was a part of them. But moving didn’t have to mean giving all their memories up. It could simply mean creating new ones, better ones. He only hoped that he could somehow convince Mouse of that. Because he knew that she wanted this too, deep down, she wanted a place that could be all of theirs, that they could mould and shift and shape into their own. But she was just so afraid to let go of the past, to take that next step, to leave the memories they’d made here together behind.

But he would show her it would all be fine. Somehow.

So with that thought, Matty went and did the one thing he knew would have to work.

A week passed after that emotional afternoon and things mostly settled. Matty hadn’t brought up another thing about house hunting or viewing talks with Mila, and so he could only guess that Mouse had been somewhat lulled into the sense of thinking that that had been the end of it all.

But then they were on their way back from Hann and Carly’s the next Wednesday, they’d had lunch and talked music, and Squeaks had been none the wiser when Matty had taken the Jeep down a wrong turn.

It was only when they’d pulled onto the street and the gravel beneath the tyres had levelled and softened out that Mouse had perked up a little in her seat. Her brow was pinched when she finally turned to face him, eyes darting around, “Think you missed an exit back there.”

Matty didn’t give her reply as he scanned the street for that familiar number, the weight of an unknown pair of keys sitting heavily in his right trouser pocket.

“Matty, do you even know where we are?” Mouse wondered again before she started messing about with the navigation system on the console. But Matty didn’t pay it much mind, continued to roll the car further and further down the street until they reached that fenced gate he’d exited through the last time they were here. “Matty?”

He came to a slow halt and switched the engine off, shooting her a sly smirk before he slipped out the side door.

“Matty!” Mouse called after him in a hiss, but Matty was already jogging up the few short steps to that painted white porch, a tiny set of keys already warming his palm. “Matty, what the fuck are you doing? You wanna get done for breaking and entering?”

Matty snorted softly to himself whilst he slotted the key into the lock and silently thanked the lovely Mila, reminding himself to get the girl a proper thank you gift if this all worked out the way he was hoping.

Squeaks called out to him one more time as he stepped over the threshold, a smile dawning on his face as he paused to wait for her to join him.

“Matty–” She was a tad bit out of breath but mostly exasperated by the time her fingers caught on the hem of his sleeve, but then she jolted beside him not a second later. He waited, peered over at her to watch her take in the familiar surroundings and smiled when the skin between her brows ultimately furrowed. “Why are we here, Matty? Isn’t this the last house we saw?”

Grinning, Matty linked his fingers through hers and gently lured her nearer. “Doesn’t hurt to take a second look around, does it?”

Mouse must have been more than a little perplexed by the whole ordeal because she didn’t fight him on the matter when he started to move them further inside— and in truth, he was really fucking thankful for that fact because he figured getting her inside would be the hardest task. And yet here they were.

The hallway back at the flat was about the same size as a twin bed and morphed into a narrow corridor which led onto the two bedrooms and the singular bathroom it had to offer. Here though, the entryway was wide and spacious. The current owners had a bench lined up on one wall where a pair of tall windows perched either side of the front door and the wooden floorboards that ran throughout the whole house homed a large vintage rug, which sat beneath a table in the centre of the room and held a rather bright bouquet.

Matty’s eyes stilled on the wide set of stairs though sat just behind the many flowerheads. “Couldn’t you picture Teds running about in here? Like, him storming in after school with all his mates behind him.” He wondered aloud, smiling as he took another step further inside. “And those stairs, I could see us taking Christmas photos there– like mum used to force me into doing back when I was a kid.”

He hadn't actually expected a reply and so he had to dampen his grin when she chuckled sweetly in return, “What, the three of us all decked out in matching jumpers?”

“Or pjs.” Matty countered before he led her a little further away, pointing out the large fireplace which they could use in the colder months and the downstairs loo that he could see becoming a lifesaver as Teddy grew older. “And look at this dining room, baby! We could have all the guys over at once in here, Adi and your mum too! Sunday roasts round ours, hey? Especially once the rest of the boys have littluns of their own.” 

She didn’t say much to that but her eyes were scanning, surveying even, and so Matty took that as a win and together they moved further forward into the famous kitchen. The very room she had claimed she hated the entire house in.

They paused by the entrance and Matty let himself lean against the door’s wooden beam, Squeak’s hand still holding his. Those antique cabinets looked the same as they had done a week prior, but the wash of colour seemed to illuminate under the setting sun that peered in through the old french doors.

“Could move about in here so freely.” Matty heard himself tease, voice soft though in hopes to not to break up the gentle moment. “Picture it. Making you pancakes on Mother’s day and helping Teds with his school work on the countertop there whilst we cook.”

Matty was surprised when Mouse was the one to shuffle on over towards the kitchen’s island, eyes mapping the vibrant fruit bowl and the cast-iron sink. 

He watched on as her gaze was drawn towards the back doors, to where another patio stretched far out on the other side. Slowly, he guided her closer to them, letting her get a feel for it all before he took the handle and opened them up, letting the light spring breeze flutter through. 

“Can you see it? A couple kids filling up the garden. Us standing here, or looking out that window there, to see Teddy laugh and smile while he darts about back and forth with a football or a kite.” Matty chuckled, already picturing it coming to life before his eyes, replacing the firepit in the back with a tyre swing and adding in a grill for him to man come summertime. “Could even get him a dog.”

Mouse shook her head even as they shared a smile.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Matty dragged his tongue across his teeth in hopes that it would dim the strength of his already too big grin. “And what’s that?”

“This, I get it.” Mouse replied, then she shrugged a single shoulder, “But it doesn’t change anything. The flats perfect for now, maybe soon we can look again and I might change my mind.” 

“You’re right stubborn you know that?” Matty acknowledged, because he’d hoped that by doing this, just them wandering through the empty property, that she might have been able to see what he saw. But still, he smiled down at her.

She widened her eyes mockingly in retort to that statement, forever used to hearing it. “Thought you’d’ve figured it out by now, rockstar.”

Matty simply hummed, feeling the slight breeze settle around them, rattling the metal wind chime which hung from one of the outside beams. He casted his sights out across the long patch of grass laid out before them and took a deep breath, mouth twitching ever so slightly. 

“You know, someday we’ll have to start making new memories.” He mentioned, tucking a hand into his jacket pocket.

“I know.”

It was hard not to fall apart then, especially when her eyes trailed over to meet his nervous smile. She tilted her head at him, confused. And Matty figured he just had to get it over with before his legs soon gave out. 

“So why not some place like this?” He wondered, fingers tightening around the hand he still held in his as he rocked back and settled down on one knee.

She didn’t dare move. Staring down at him and the pretty red box he now held, so still Matty wasn’t even sure that she was breathing. 

“Are you serious?”

A chuckle escaped him at the ask and it was surprising because it sounded so genuine, even with the way his hand currently shook. “I reckon we could make a couple nice memories in a place like this. So, you just gonna let me kneel here or will you marry me?”

Mouse tried to keep the smile from off her face, eyes sparkling as she stared back at him, but in the end the battle was lost and Matty ended up mimicking the strength of it.

“Is that a yes then?”

She laughed, bright and loud, then tugged him up to wrap her arms around him. When she finally pulled away her eyes were wet but he didn’t think he’d ever witnessed her happier.

“Of course it is, you idiot.” She sniffed, capturing his jaw between her palms, and she stared at him so earnestly that it made Matty feel so utterly seen. “But it really does need a new lick of paint.”

Squeaks must’ve seen the evident confusion that crossed his face right then because she chuckled and gestured her head over towards the back door. “The house. If we’re planning on living here then I want it to feel like ours.”

At the realisation Matty laughed in disbelief and dipped down to rest his forehead against her own.

“I think I can manage that.”

“You better.” She quipped, pulling him in for a slow kiss before she was giggling to herself. Her eyes were bright and alive even as she narrowed them menacingly at him and prodded at his chest with a finger, “But don’t pull anything like this ever again, you hear?”

“What, propose?” 

She rolled her eyes at the question but that smile of hers was relentless.

“Yeah alright, I hear you.”

[plasticfangtastic]

Cozy Corner Domaystic--Prompt: 3. Grocery Shopping, 18. Snow Day, 21. Road trip (sort of)

Charred Steak

A Butchlander fic

Sypnopsis: Butcher is in charge of taking care of Homelander.

Tags: Fluff?, non-canon anything, partially-depowered Homelander, depressive, one-shot, not proof read i die like this.

word count: 1.5k words

This is the forth time he’s heard this song on the radio, one can only tolerate the same country cover before been driven insane but is better than nothing, their car only had an old stereo and he rather not drive in silence with this company, they’ve arrived to their cabin and found it more than just barren, ordered to stay out of sight and hidden until further notice so it was just functional not comfortable but at least it'll do, the snow was piling up and the sun had begun to set-- all Butcher wanted was anything in his stomach and a drink to warm him up, then worry about tomorrow and the road.

Leaving the cargo behind he headed to the nearest town over an hour away, in normal circumstance he wouldn’t dare leave this guy alone but now he can’t go anywhere, he’s bound to the ground like any other sad sod in the world should-- or at least for the most part, but he’s not complaining he himself doesn’t want to do anything, he’s rotting away on his passenger seat or the floor, the most he’s spoken this whole drive to the middle of nowhere America had been to complain about the amount of ads on the radio then over this song.

But Butcher pays him no mind.

This drive is short compared to the last few days, the song just an annoying reminder.

The supermarket is a little small, but he can at least take a breather in aisle dillydalling as he reads the ingredients and cooking instructions, he was no gourmand much less Gordon Ramsey so he would eat anything.

Homelander much the same--he had no taste for food not eating much either, losing weight to a worrisome degree even his bosses had ordered him to feed him, so he stuffed the trolley with a decent variety of things in hopes he liked something, he ignored the ringing on his phones, too exhausted to deal with the rest of the boys after such a long drive, just wanting to get back and eat.

He picks two packs of steaks seeing which was the best deal, he should buy the cheapest chuck knowing Homelander doesn’t deserve anything but dollar store steak but he puts the T-Bone on the trolley nevertheless, he can’t really brush away the image of Homelander’s distraught, how dead he was, after all these days bound together Homelander feel more like a husk dressed and bleached than his archnemesis.

Reading his shopping list he got he milk, the hot cocoa, enough water for a month, he got the bread, butter, canned chili and beans, too many cans that at some point he’s unsure if they will eat it all, toilet paper, frozen vegs and lots of steak, he shouldn’t be buying candies... Homelander seemed to despise anything with fructose unless its coke.

But he still throws a few in there.

Butcher almost wishes the snow buries his car and leaves him stranded if that meant he can stay away from the blond.

But he makes it to the cabin, he looks up and sees no smoke.

He ran as if his life depended on it, his mind only remembers the Homelander of the past, he’s gone and he’s fucked.

The door slams open and he’s taunting the air with his gun but all there is a mess hovering a dwindling flame, wrapped in a blanket and shivering, his foot sticking out and blue.

“You’ll get hypothermia that way… don’t you know how to keep a fire going?”

Homelander doesn’t reply, his eyes yearn to light up but he’s just there immobile on the ground and if his head hadn’t move just a second prior he would had thought it was a corpse. 

Homelander doesn’t move when Butcher fixes the fireplace again, but he will pretend to not have noticed that the man squinted and smiled as the warmth enveloped him, he catchest that odd look in his eyes as he touches him to put that poor foot back inside the quilt.

Butcher does his things, putting things away wishing he would help or talk but all Homelander wants to do is sit by the fire like a cat.

“They said on the radio that the snow storm is only going to get worse… we will be stranded so if you want anything I didn’t get at the shops you better speak up now.”

Homelander says nothing.

“You… whatevah…”

Homelander doesn’t do anything, Butcher can fix their temporary residency for a couple days without protest.

He looks at his watch and realizes that Homelander hasn’t eaten or drank anything for hours, he looks at the man grunting as he forces himself to care for him, picking him up from the ground and finally earning a response from the man, he looks at Butcher wincing at him trying to push him away but while there is strength that doesn’t match those thin arms, he’s still weak.

Dragging him up, the man looks away from him-- he looks more angry than ashamed

“I’m gonna make dinner. Be useful and set the table.”

Homelander stood there as Butcher looks back at him and for some disturbing amount of time Homelander stood frozen, but without making a sound he floats and helps him out, he moves smoothly and quicker than most but not in a manner that seemed natural for him.

“Is that… good enough?” His voice is so dry, it hurts to listen, he nods for putting a table wasn’t rocket science– what are you making?”

Butcher grins surprised to hear the bastard wanting to chit-chat.

“Steak and veggies.” He says bluntly.

“Better than slim jims and whisky…” 

He sounds normal for a second which gets Butcher to turn around, he much rather listen to this version of him instead of the corpse tied to him.

“You got milk but no whisky… Did you forget?”

Butcher eyes light up in horror, the snow so thick outside he knows it probably not a good idea to travel anymore not at this hour.

“You did get slim jims…”

“Is better if I stay sober if am s’ppose to be stuck ‘ere with you until I get my next orders.”

Homelander smile is more somber than Butcher wants to witness-- he can tell he's bullshiting him so his hearing isn't all gone, this situation is dire but he still looks at the disheveled blonde with a bit of anxiety, his suit long gone replaced by dark coloured sweats, missing a sock and a beard that's gone from scratchy to scruffy, Homelander has been docile for the most part, Butcher becoming his nurse bathing him, washing his hair, shaving that god awful beard... he’s been comatose for weeks, waking up and being no different than a vegetable, moved from coast to coast away from Vought and their minions, Butcher has gotten uncomfortably familiar with Homelander, so when he acts alive its great but it annoys him.

It was weird for Homelander to talk or move this much these days-- Butcher almost gotten accustomed to the potato sack, he can't tell if Homelander will act out but Butcher has learned some tricks to keep him tame.

He lowers the flame letting the steak sizzle and crisp and the veggies boil without supervision for a moment, as he maneuvers around Homelander to take a pack of Werther’s candy from the pantry, Homelander watchest him closely as he rips the candy open.

“You've been a good boy. Haven't tried to run in a whole week… thought you deserved a treat”

“Twisted ankles hurt so much more than I expected it… simpler to break them… what’s the point of running if it’ll hurt afterwards... don't get me started on sore knees."

“You won’t run anymore, right?” Butcher teases Homelander, pressing the cream coloured candy in-between his fingers lifting it towards Homelander’s mouth– you’ll be a good sweet boy for daddy and stay right where I tell ya to stay, right?”

“Is not like I can leave you.” He looks out the window– is also snowing quite a bit… we both can’t leave each other either way."

“So you’ll be a good boy and behave?"

“yes, daddy” He says mockingly.

Butcher presses the creamy candy on the blond’s lip his tongue stretching and catching those calloused fingers, Butcher knows he shouldn’t get to know him more, he hates the bastard, but as the man suckles on his fingers, remembering bittersweet memories-- Homelander is so sensitive to the pain, so sensitive to everything else too... he'll do anything not to feel pain but something else.

It was wrong, it was sick but Butcher found it cathartic, more cathartic than the bruise on Homelander’s neck... now a sweet shade of olive, his mouth watered at the thought of being trapped together.

Homelander smiled crushing the candy as Butcher’s fingers escape those sharp toothers, still sharp enough to rip bone clean, he knows well... he got the stiches to remind him.

“I don’t like well-done steak.”

“Youse get what you get.”

“You don’t like well-done either.”

“Fuck.”

The snow piles up, Butcher and Homelander eat in silence, the snow piles up outside, and the two stare at their plates in awkward silence.

Butcher smiles just a tad as the man can only muster a sizzle on the meat.

“See you do like it well-done, luv.”

“Gives it some flavor… you forgot to season it.”

“Butter and salt is enough.”

“Your people colonized the whole world for spices—

“Shut up and eat your steak!”

Homelander smiles, chewing loudly as Butcher wishes he’ll go back to being silent.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

A letter to John's cousin Leila, dated January 1979

Thank you to @javelinbk's post for bringin my attention to this letter :)

I'm sure I made some mistakes in transcribing this, so if someone can figure out the bits I'm unsure about I'd be happy to edit them in! (EDIT: thank you to @ohblahdo and @the-bluebird-you-need for much needed corrections!) I also tried to keep it as close to his actual writing as possible but sometimes I can't tell if he misspellt things or if it's just hard to read. I bolded what he underlined.

FULL TRANSCRIPTION:

Dear Leila,

it's snowing;– outside the window in Central Park – I can see the Plaza Hotel across the trees – it's beautiful. I'm exhausted (still) after Xmas/New Year – they even have a thing called Thanksgiving a few weeks before Xmas (by the way I'm a Pagan – a zen Pagan to be precise – but that's another story!)

It looks a[s] if we got our wires crossed on the 'newspaper story' – ie. Mimi (who else!) told me you were upset about something I said (supposed to have said) in the newspaper about myself – anyway enough of that – it's obviously nothing – so let's forget that which we can't remember anyway!

I don't know why you were surprised by what I wrote you about your 'Russian Affair' – i thought I'd make it clear to you that the words were from a TAROT CARD READER – ie: I told him your story/birthdate etc – the words came through him – I just wrote down his 'prediction' (whatever) re:your situation! See? – so don't shoot the bearer of news!!

Sean is a beautiful wise 3 yr old (born Oct 9! – in case you didn't know) – what a handfull [sic] one is – I don't know how you manage all yours – well done! The fact that they have all their limbs + faculties is an accomplishment in itself!

Sounds like a good idea about giving yourself some time to 'play'! – 8 days doesn't sound like you're turned Gypsy 'tho'! – by the way –

– You better give us a fair warning if you're seeing [?] about 'popping over' here – ie: make sure I'm here – eg. tomorrow we leave (Yoko + me) for ..... Cairo, Egypt (ring a bell?!) – via Geneva – on a business trip – for about a week – I wish we could dig up some of your fathers relatives – do you know anyone there? an Uncle/Aunt?

– I'll send you a postcard –

I'm 40 next year – I hope life begins – ie. I'd like a little less 'trouble' and more – what? I don't know – I sent Stan [Leila's brother, John's cousin] a Xmas card (up north) – I don't know what it is with him – is he resentfull [sic] of me because I'm not dumb or what?! I guess he was always jealous of you – anyway I still think it's pretty mean of him – I heard a lot from him when he was piss poor – I shouldn't be surprised after all the bastards I've met these last 40 yrs or so

– if your [sic] ever in NRH Wales – look [?] up Julian – he's in Ruthin School – poor sod –

I though of you a lot this Xmas – the cottage – the record player – 'good ship lollipop' – 'I found my love on TREASURE ISLAND' – the OWL(s)? the shadows on the ceiling as the cars went by at night – putting up the paper-chains – even Norman turns into Santa Klaus in my memory! (muttering in the chair by the fire)

enough of that too!

Lots of love, to all of you, I'm sure we'll see each other v. soon – somewhere or other – I'm almost scared to go to England, 'cos I know it would be the last time I saw Mimi – I'm a coward about goodbyes...

Have a good year Keep healthy John 8^) xxx

Love from Sean & Yoko xx

[heyhihellosworld]

𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀

Mason Mount x reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A soft evening at Christmas times with Mason

Warnings: Fluff! Like sickly sweet, almost annoyed myself whilst writing it

Notes: Just a lil Christmas imagine ❤ Not been writing a lot recently because there has been a lot now before holidays. Also Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! It's not the best but I wanted to post something so I tried to do something easy. Maybe a lil cheesy but anyway🤫

"What do you wanna do?" he questioned, head tilted back to look at you as you stood behind the sofa he was sat on. Your hands resting on either side of his head as you smiled down at him.

"I don't know, what do you wanna do?" you hummed.

Mason huffed at your returned question furrowing his eyebrows at you

"I asked you so you choose"

"Mason" you laughed, threading your hands through his hair, his frown turning into a content smile as you did, nails gently scratching over his skull.

"Well okay then" you huffed jokingly, tugging a little on his hair

"What about going to the store to buy snacks, order pizza and watch Christmas movies?" you hummed, mirroring his adoring smile that lit up his face at the suggestion.

It was already fairly late, Mason had been on an evening training, the last before three days of Christmas break until the prem started again.

"Sounds lovely" he beamed, quickly standing up to get ready.

You'd decided to walk since he lived really close to the store and it felt better than taking the car. Walking hand in hand as he filled you in on the latest gossip in the team, talking about Kai and Sophia who wanted to meet up and a recent call with Timo and before you knew it you were in the store, Mason hooking onto a basket whilst holding your hand tight in the other.

He usually never shopped himself, rarely had anything bought but since you and him had started to date and you'd spent more and more time at his place you'd required some stuff for the fridge, rather cooking in than ordering out.

"No please no, we always have gummy bears" Mason groaned making you pout as you flashed him the huge bag you'd found. "But I want them" you whined, blinking up at him as innocently as you could.

"I want something else" he grunted stubbornly, your eyes rolled, throwing the big bag in the basket on Mason's arm which made him whine in response.

"Just pick up whatever you want too, I want more anyways stop being whiny" you huffed, flicking his forehead with your forefinger and even though he tried to hide his smile with a fake frown the smile soon broke out on his face regardless making you snicker.

"Sod off"

Laughter spilled out of you at his childish pout. "Awh poor baby, do you need to pay for an extra bag of candy?" you mocked, squeezing the material of his hoodie "What, why am I paying for your disgusting candies"

"Because I don't have my wallet" you deadpanned, his face gaining a fake sour look.

"I'll pay for pizza" you quickly promised, kissing his cheek lovingly but he only chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist, kissing the side of your head "No you wont, I think I can handle it"

"Shut up and let me pay for pizza or I won't get my disgusting candies" you halfheartedly threatened, knowing that he would never let you put the bag back now. Your words caused his eyes to roll. "My gosh, fine" he muttered but you knew he would still put up a fight when the moment was in to pay but you had at least won the fight for the moment.

You searched the candy isles, Mason picking up crisps and two more bags of candy before making your way to the register.

"Oooh look they have polka" you gushed, your eyes widened as you eyed the candy "Oh and Mint chocolate"

You were too distracted eyeing the candy to notice Mason looking at you in complete adoration, a loving smile on his face as you walked closer to the shelf.

"Alright, are we done?" You mumbled after letting the candy go with your eyes, turning to Mason who nodded "You not gonna get any?"

"Nah I already got my candy" you smiled, patting his shoulder as you walked to the drinks, picking out two Christmas beers and Christmas soda not noticing Mason taking one of each of the candy into the basket.

When you walked out of the store it was snowing, big flakes wirling around in the darkness.

You walked in silence for a while, just observing the beautiful surroundings, pointing out stuff to each other.

When you'd made your way up the hill and outside the house you dropped your bags stepping out in the snow of the garden.

"What are you doing?" Mason laughed as he looked at you, standing with your face bent up towards the sky, tongue poking out "I'm trying to catch the snowflakes" you exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh wow, of course" Mason snickered ironically, following your example, sticking his tongue out towards the sky.

"I caught one!" he cheered, showing you the small flake on his tongue before it melted away. You laughed with him as you straightened up, turning to face him with a bright smile on your face

His smile reflected in his eyes, hands wrapping around your body as he brought you closer to him

"I love you" you hummed, staring into his brown warm eyes.

His lips meet yours sweetly and lovingly, no rush and no passionate heat just pure love and intimacy making your whole body melt despite the cold that sippered through the wetness in your jumper.

"I love you" he mumbled as you let go for a second, lips still brushing the others. "But you're shaking, should we go inside?" he grinned a pout making it's up to your face

"Fine but only because I'm freezing cold" you gave in, feeling the coldness get to you

"but first I wanna make snow-angles" you beamed, Mason laughed but laid down next to you in the snow as you started to create an angel print in the snow before rushing up. Shaking by the cold and you both quickly picked up your shopping bags before laughing running into the house.

After a relaxing hot shower together you got changed, stealing one of Mason's many hoodies and your warm sweats plus fluffy socks. When you walked downstairs Mason was already in the kitchen sweatpants and hoodie on while he worked on your evening snacks. Hot cocoa on the stove and in the making of pouring all of your now many snacks into bowls.

"Ah there you are" Mason smiled, looking over his shoulder as you sauntered into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist, looking under his arm to watch what he was doing.

"What, when did you take that candy?" you giggled as you saw the chocolate and polka you had eyes before, grinning up at your boyfriend who feigned innocent.

"I don't know, they must've just... jumped into the basket"

"I love you" you laughed, pecking his chin and the skin you could reach from the awkward position.

"I already ordered Pizza, I ordered the regular hope that was okay" he smiled, kissing the top of your head before you stepped away slightly. "Mason" you whined, pinching his side stubbornly

"What?!" He exclaimed, jumping further from you "I was supposed to pay!"

"Oh yeah, sorry I forgot" he mused but his smile said something else. "You always say that and it's always a lie"

"I don't see the big deal honey, I pay, I have money and you can spend your money on something better"

You let out a huff off annoyance but you couldn't be too annoyed at him when he looked at you the way he did. "Fine but I will pay some day!" you declared as he laughed, walking to gather the pizzas. "Sure you will love"

You settled in the couch, resting alongside Mason, cuddled up under one of your massive blankets.

"What movie do you wanna watch?" you asked him but he only shrugged "I don't know"

"Love actually or the Polarexpress" you decided making him chuckle pouting his lips in a thinking manner

"What about both?"

You beamed up at him, settling on to begin with Love Actually since it was on the front page. One of his arms was around you, holding you close whilst the other one was used to shovel pizza and candy into his mouth.

It felt nice to just be cuddled up, chatting alongside the movie and just enjoying a very calm and still night in. Mason couldn't tell the last time he'd had such a calm nice night. If he didn't travel, have games or late training he was obliged to visit family or go out with friends, times like these were rare and maybe that's why you both were so grateful for it.

[mlmxreader]

Waterloo | Danse x transmasc!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Can I pretty please get a paladin Danse with prompt 22? "Y'know, jealously used to be subtle." With a transmasc reader.... Thank you for your service 🙏🙏🙏❤️ ❞

: ̗̀➛ a chance encounter leads to Danse getting jealous, and he isn't exactly the best at controlling things like that.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ jealousy, swearing.

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

To say that Danse was unhappy would have been an understatement; with his power armour in the shop getting fixed, he was forced to wear "civilian clothes", as he called them, and made it no secret that he despised it.

Even if he did notice your eyes on him more than usual; studying the strong body beneath thin fabric. The thickness of his arms and legs and how they jiggled when he moved; how his large stomach hung over the waistband of his jeans when he used the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow.

His large and broad shoulders; the scruff around his jaw that matched the dense hair on his chest - only part of it visible thanks to his few undone top buttons. He did wonder if you knew that the hair trailed all the way down. He knew you looked at him, he just didn't know why.

Why would you give him your attention when there were people all around waiting to throw themselves at you?

You just gave him all your attention, and for what?

Sure, he was attractive - fat, strong. and hairy. A big burly man who looked like he could lift a whole car with just one hand. Strong and capable.

But someone like you?

Danse thought that the mercenary - as much of an insubordinate civilian as he was - would have been more your type.

But then, you and Danse were not so different; you came from an island across the sea, and had tried to defend your home from the raiders who belonged to the eastern side of it. A soldier, a man of war. Born and bred for it just as he had been.

The name of your home still rang so musically whenever you mentioned it to him - Cymru.

As he looked at you now, he clenched his jaw; you were talking to a very handsome man who spoke your language almost as well as you did. He was tall and lean, dark brown eyes and dark hair, and a bright red dragon tattoo on his forearm.

Danse knew that he could not compete, so he stepped in, clearing his throat as he glared at the man and scowled.

"This is official Brotherhood of Steel business, civilian, I suggest you move along."

The man did as he was told with mild complaint, but you smacked Danss on the shoulder as you scoffed. "What are you playing at, butt?"

Danse shrugged as he tried to feign ignorance as best as he could. "I didn't think you would want to be bothered by a civilian."

You cocked a brow, doing your best not to laugh loudly once you realised what was going on. "You stupid sod... y'know, jealousy used to be subtle. Not so in your face."

You watched with amusement as he realised he had been caught; his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink, followed by the tip of his nose and the tips of his ears. Danse swallowed hard, stuttering and stammering to try and conceal it, until you kissed him gently.

Such a mountain of a man, and you were bringing him to his knees. He had lost the battle and you had won the war.

He had heard of a war being won with just one battle. When a commander and Emperor had fallen at the hands of a Duke.

He smiled a little - if you were to be that Duke, je would be the commander, and happily give up to surrender to you.

"You are a silly bastard," you chuckled. "Don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

"All you have to do is ask," you told him. "And I'd be yours."

Danse frowned, lowering his voice as he coaxed you against a wall; he put his hand at the side of your head, leaning on it in hopes that it would make people less likely to try and listen in.

"Aren't you worried?"

You shook your head as you planted your hands on his chest, just shy of gripping the brown and black plaid shirt to tug him closer. "About what? Everybody at the Brotherhood knows I'm trans, no one gives a fuck... nobody gave a fuck when Dane came out as gay - why would they care about us?"

Danse shook his head, licking his lips as he swallowed thickly. "Not the Brotherhood. Everyone else."

"No," you admitted, smiling. "If I'm to face my Waterloo, I want it to be you."

He let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "As long as you're sure."

"I am," you assured with a curt nod. "Now, are you gonna kiss me, or am I gonna have to go and find someone to flirt with again?"

"Please don't," he murmured, drawing just close enough for you to catch him in another quick kiss.

Oh, he had certainly lost the war, but he loved it; he felt like he had won the second you kissed him so sweetly. Giving up the fight was something he would never say no to when it came to you.

You hummed, gently tugging at the open flap of the top of his shirt. "You really do not fucking like this, do you?"

He shook his head as he smiled a little. "Civilian clothes aren't exactly comfortable."

You shrugged, daring to glance up and meet his gaze for a moment before grinning. "So, why don't we get a move on, find somewhere to bunker down for the night, and you can get it off?"

There it was again. The brief sting in his chest that left him feeling giddy and excited, like he was floating on the back of a stingwing as it soared through the air.

Fuck.

His stomach was in knots, and he knew he had never felt so excited before. Trying not to seem too eager, though, Danse nodded as he reached for your hand, surprised you would let him hold it.

He still wasn't sure why you were giving him your attention.

Maybe he should forget about it - maybe it was as simple as you liked him. He could live with that. Especially given how right your hand felt against his; his fingers so thick and so warm against yours as he swung his arm a little bit just to see you smile.

Fuck, he could get used to that. He really could.

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

thank you so much for reading, but if I may, I'd like to borrow some extra time from you, as well; you see, Mahmoud needs help to rebuild his old life after his home was destroyed, along with his entire life, by Israeli forces. due to this, he is having to flee the Gaza Strip and relocate and rebuild his life; as of right now (03:52, 21/07/2024), his goal is set at €10,000, and he has managed to raise €4980 of that. if you could, please consider donating to help; even if it's just £1 or £2, it would go such a long way into helping to build not just a home - but a livelihood, a life, as well. if you can't donate, then please consider sharing, instead.

[incrediblyshyghost]

FNAF: fairy AU fanfic of @ayyy-imma-ninja fairy Eclipse 

Sick oc, death of a hawk, mention of blood and cuts, some cursing, fairy Eclipse is NOT my character, hurt fairy. Eclipse had used this older farmhouse to keep out of the rain a few days ago, it seemed to be while kept and redone but no one seemed to be living here, the temptation to burn it down was squished when he found a way in and fell on a weird rectangle plastic box with buttons this made the bigger magic box turned on showing all different animals with facts about them he found himself sitting on the soft couch watching the magic box till the storm had passed and he didn't want to leave after that. But a few days ago, 5 humans came and ruined his fun cleaning up the place and seemed to be moving boxes in, they left soon after so he left looking for food for a while coming back only to find there are new humans there again. Eclipse noticed watching from an oak tree grumbling about not being able to watch the magic box. 

Are you sure you want to be alone? Her mother asked as they finished setting up the old house for her to stay for a while.

Yeah, I need time for myself to think alone about this and it’s not like it’s forever, and I have the sheriff's number on speed dial if anything happens, and the air here is better than the city-smoked fill poison that has been polluting my lungs lately. 

I know I know I just love you ok and you better call me every day! She shouts, hugging her daughter tight enough for her to feel her bones creak. 

Ok. Love you too Mom she said patting her mother back trying to keep a brave face as she stood in the driveway watching the red car pull away down the rocky drive. 

The loving moment made Eclipse's stomach turn but he was intrigued by the car humans had come a long way with their toys. Watching the big red machine kick up dust. Only for his eyes to catch the human that was left behind, she had freckles like someone he knew but her deep green eyes were different... He waked as the girl waved till the car was out of sight and took a shaky deep breath. How odd for some reason, Eclipse found himself following the girl as she walked into the forest. It seemed the more she walked the shakier she got tell she got to the small creek she fell to her knees, her arms wrapped around her side hugging herself tightly as she bowed her head, short brown hair getting pulled in the slight current the creek had, and screamed she screamed so loud like a wounded animal a dyeing animal something he had never heard come out of a human as she sat in the rocky, grass filled edge of the creek tears running down her nose making ripples in the water. Till her voice seems to go out her back shakes as she sodded alone in the forest. 

Eclipse was struggling to just leave her, that scream reminded him of his own. He had followed her to give her a scare, maybe get her to leave the house so he could watch the magic box! but now he didn't know what to do, his wing fluttered as he decided to just leave, but a shriek of a hawk and the sound of its wings right behind him changed his plains before he could even turn sharp claw wrapped around his chest and wings, squeezing him as he feels his wings rips by the sharp talons as the beast wings shoosh around him, he growled his claws swiping at the hawks talons his fire burning the bird he heard the birds shriek of pain ringing in his ears and a felt himself falling with it then nothing… 

The girl looks up from her pity party of one hearing the hawk shriek and thrash in on the ground she gets up slowly walks over gasping holding a hand over her mouth sees the hawk with what looks like burn marks on its chest one side of its face and wing look bend in the wrong direction from its fall,  she had heard about the fire that happened two weeks ago but this looks like it had just happened the bird still smoking. A few leaves on fire around it and just looking at the poor thing there was no way it was going to live, but then she saw something lying on the ground by the dying hawk she picked it up away from the trashing bird's talons and it looked like a fairy? This was a joke, she had asked for a sign not whatever this was! But as she looked at the little odd creature that was bleeding in her hand as the hawk went quiet and still she couldn't just put the little thing down and head home, so she curled her fingers around the warm creature and headed back to the old farmhouse as she dried her tears. 

Rushing into the house and putting the fairy on the marble countertop under the kitchen light she could see the claw mark on the poor thing's middle and rips on its big wings that she had gently made sure she didn't fold when she put him down, and there was blood on the back of its head, she just stared for a moment taking him in, the body was half dark brown like the bark of a tree, the other side orange, almost like a Halloween themed doll, its mouth hung open showing off its sharp teeth it had claws to match raggedy and torn cloak shirt thing over its top half and dark red and orange striped pants that looked ashed covered and slightly burned. All and all the poor thing looked like a bloody mess she moved to her medicine cabinets pulling everything she could get her hand on out and putting it around the unconscious fairy thing. 

Cleaning the wounds was easy with some Q-tips with warm water on them to clean off the blood and gently trying to see if there was anything like dirt inside the wounds was hard to see but her sewing kit magnifying glass came in handy there. Once that was done she put some Neosporin on the wounds. Then whispered cussed out the gauze as she struggled to cut it small enough to tie around the fairy but she managed to wrap the gauze around the fairy's belly and leg from the hawk's apparent attack, it was a little worrying at how limp the poor thing was but it was still breathing. After that she looked at its wings. The edges looked tattered but that could just be how they were there, however, the three cuts from the talons were clean lines through the wings. Digging around her medicines she found new skin liquid bandages and it was worth a shot the stuff was pretty much glue so she gently applied the new skin on the wing being careful to hold the two pieces together and not glue into the table and holding it for a few minutes till it dry and do it again to the other cut on his wings he only ever made a light hissing sound which made her jump out of her skin but he didn't wake. Once all his wounds were taken care of she made him a little bed out of a soft blanket and put the smallest ice pack out of her fridge she could find under it for the head wound. She left him on the table away from anything flammable besides the blanket he was on, since she doubted the bird just burst into flame the odd creature had to be the cause... 

“What a good start to this week instead of unpacking and thinking about what little option you had left you bringing a weird creature into the house that you are pretty sure somehow set a bird on fire smart move” she mumbled to herself opening the windows hoping the thing would wake up and flee out the window, cleaning up the medicine putting it all back in the cabinet, she hoped it was something her mind's made up in her panic of the bad news, but as she glanced over and yep the Halloween themed fairy still there. She sat in the dining room, a spot where she could glance up and see the bundle of blankets and the tips of the fairy's wings. She pulled out her notebook mindlessly sketching and doodling as the time slowly moved forward unable to unpack worried shed wake the thing. The clock ticking seemed to tease her about how long she had left here, so she put on some music to drown out the ticking and temptation to toss the clock outside in the yard. 

She was lost in her sketchbook and music not noticing the movement in the kitchen as the fairy woke up feeling something cool on the back of his head. It felt nice dulling the ache he could feel there. He felt weak, S-sunny? He called softly before he snapped back to reality with a gasp sitting up quickly only to hiss holding his aching side his head throbbing at the sudden movement where was he? He thought his eyes scanning what he could see, a familiar kitchen hearing quiet music and his hand he felt cloth not skin looking down he found a soft white cloth wrapped there and on his leg, his wing ached, and looking at them he saw cuts and some kind of shiny clear something on the cuts holding the torn wing parts together. What happened? He thinks back remembering the girl and then… a bird? Did he really lose to a stupid bird? He growled Looking over he saw the girl, it seemed she calmed down and was doing something with a book away from him he saw the open windows he slowly got up with a hiss holding his head feeling like his brain got scrambled he fluttered his wings and hissing at the ache it caused no flying yet he stumbles over to the edge of the counter and shouted at the human to come over here. 

She almost jumps out of her skin and hears bells suddenly over her music she looks around before spotting the fairy thing standing with its hands over its mouth like it was shouting at her but she only hears bells, she gets up slowly, umm i i can't hear what you're saying you sound like windchimes she said coming over to the table slowly. Then she hears a voice that sounds male and growly “Hey kidnapper can I get some food!” 

She chuckles out of all the things to say, well seems you are doing better she says walking past the island into the kitchen opening the fridge pulling out some strawberries and a piece of cooked chicken pulling off a small piece and getting a medicine cup filling it with water putting it all on a small saucer before putting it on the island for the fairy. Hopefully, you're okay with spice the chicken has some heat to it, she said watching the fairy confidently walk over the saucer and sit down to eat, watching her as she watched him. You look like you have been through hell, fairy? She said the last word as though it was a question he looked up at her nodding 

Got a name? Or are you just going to eat my food after I bandage you up and leave without introducing yourself? She asked 

“You first crybaby he growled” with his mouth full, 

“Crybaby?... Where are you watching me?” She asked but he didn't answer her the petals on his head twitched a little which was odd she sighed not getting an answer from him she shook her head no. “I remember reading somewhere that it's a bad idea to give your name to a fairy first and I help you instead of letting that dying hawk kill you. I think it's the least you could do is tell me your name.”

“Eclipse” he growled glaring at her “Zoe” she all but purred happy to get a name for the odd little fairy. 

Oh what happened to the “bad idea giving your name to a fairy?” eclipse chuckled standing up and dusting himself off after he finished his food. 

“Well I know yours so I think it equals out right?” Zoe asked with a shrug 

“I don't know, is it? I could have lied about my name” Eclipse chuckles with his Cheshire grin 

“So could I.” Zoe said, almost bopping Eclipse's pointed nose but yanking her hand back when he tried to bite “Sorry, it's just your... Cute” 

“Am not!” eclipse shouts little flames circle his balled fist as he huffs glaring at her, her eyes widen but not in fear like Eclipse thought they would but in amazement as she seems to looking him over again. 

“So you are the reason the hawk was bbq?” she asked her hand coming closer but a sharp glare and a show of teeth got her to stop moving closer “sorry sorry,” she said leaning back so you are a fire fairy? 

Eclipse or black sun fairy take your pick of a name eclipse huffed crossing his arms and glaring up at her 

“You don't like humans do you?” Zoe asked 

“What do you think?” he growled his wing fluttered and he hid a wince 

“You're the one that called me over” she shrugged “If it makes you feel better I won't be here long, so don't start liking me little firecracker.” she giggled, patting the side of his face gently with a finger pulling back quickly before he could snap at her. She backs away from the table as he shouts about how he will kill her as he stoops his foot. Little sparks of fire flicker from his hands him “So angry that's not how you talk to people eclipse.”  she said leaving the island and going back to her sketchbook on the dining table letting him throw a tantrum on the marble table where he couldn't light anything but the blanket on fire, and it seems as soon as she thought that she smells fire and see the blanket has a small flickering flame on its corner and the fairy grinning at her as she rushes over smoothing the small start of a fire with the rest of the blanket really? Really? You had to burn the blanket, not a ‘Please can you come back? No straight to arson with you? She asked, she didn't shout or freak out, just made sure the fire wasn't going to start again before looking at the fairy standing by the blanket looking confused. 

“I didn't think about that” he huffed crossing his arms 

“Course, so you got me to come over. What do you want, little fairy?” Zoe asked as she stood there, Eclipse huffed and grumbled kicking at the smooth marble table with his bare feet before looking up at her. Can you take me to the magic box that talks about wildlife? Eclipse asked 

She stares at him for a moment thinking magic box magic box…., you mean a TV? She asked holding her hand out for Eclipse to jump onto, he stared at her seeming to be shocked that she would trust him not the burn her after he just lit the blanket of fire, he slowly climbed on and sat on her palm and she carefully took him over to the living room rested her hand on the coffee table for him to get off turned on the TV and found the Animal channel, “I would let you on the couch but I don't trust you not to burn it know that you have set that poor blanket on fire.” 

“What? But I did that because you wouldn't come! I won't burn the couch” eclipse huffed 

“No, you have not earned enough trust to be allowed on the coucaaaieh” she yelped as he bit her finger she as gently as she could dumped the fairy out of her hand and pulled her hand up but Eclipse stubbornly held on like a dog with a rope toy ok let gooooo! Zoe said her other hand coming up gently running her finger down his back making him let go and she quickly pulled her hands back away from the fairy leaving him stuck on the coffee table for the moment since his wing still hurt too much to fly. How do you think biting would change my mind? She asked shocked that he bit her not that it really hurt but he had bitten down hard enough to draw blood.

“Just die!” eclipse growled turning away from her to watch the TV but she noticed that his red cheek seemed to be an even darker color. Maybe he's embarrassed? There was a documentary about snow leopards, and the soothing voice of the narrator filled the awkward silence. 

“Working on it, I still need to find a pretty urn first.” she huffed taking the paperwork that was beside the fairy before he could get any ideas. Did the petals around his head just move? She watched him slowly turn around 

What? He asked looking back at her, what? She asked with a shrug her eyes scanning over the paperwork in her hands  holding her index finger out to not get blood on the paper too lazy to go get a bandaid right now eclipse growled looking back at the TV 

“Awww does the little fairy care about me?” she giggles knowing she was pushing his buttons she watched little flames flicker and die in his hand as he breathed deeply 

“No, I don't like humans, remember? What are those papers for?” eclipse asked seeing some big words that he had no idea the meaning of on that paper as she flipped through the bundle 

“This is either the nail in the coffin or a miracle, I just don't know if I want to fight anymore. I am tired of this long battle…” she said which just confused Eclipse more 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ll spill my secrets as soon as you do.” at this eclipse turns back to the TV “nevermind”  and they calmly watch the documentary about snow leopards in silence telling zoe leans closer to the table her finger gently rubbing the back of eclipse head your head ok? It seems like you hit in when you fell, you want an ice pack she asked as he froze up for a few seconds before he swiped his claws at her finger. Making her pull her hand away as he got up, moving away from her and telling her not to touch, she took it as progress since he didn't try to bite her this time, and she didn't feel a bump on his head so that was a good sign. As the TV switch to a show about sea turtles she noticed Eclipse's head bopping she giggled slowly getting up and walking back into the kitchen getting the slightly burned blanket and coming back without saying anything she just gently warping the blanket around him before laying back down on the couch looking at the tv like she didnt do anything as eclipse looked over at her before snuggling into the blanket. she watches him out of the corner of her eyes as he slowly nods off, she notices that his wings disappeared, must be a fairy magic thing she thought. Once she is sure he is asleep she sighs seeing how he is lying, and gently moves him to lay more comfortably lowering the volume on the tv she yawns and stretches heading to her bed leaving the fairy on the coffee table trusting him and the fire alarms to not let the house burn down.

Wake up to the birds chirp and not the blaring scream of the fire alarms was a good sign as Zoe got up and ready for the day almost hoping to walk into the living room and find it empty and the fairy just be a dream, but as she walks down the hallway she hears him mumbling in his sleep, as she got closer she saw him curl up a look of pain on his face as he mumbled she went to the kitchen not stupid enough to try and wake him by touching him, coming back with a wooden spoon in hand hearing him mumbled “moon, sunny” before she gently started talking to him and gently poked him with the wooden spoon and was glad it wasn't her fingers as he jumps up with some fire swirls around him as he growled his claw digging into the wooded handle as he started at her with red eyes if looks could kill ‘sorry i you seemed like you were having a nightmare’ she watched his huffed his eyes slowly changing color back to orange “a bad nightmare want to talk about it?” 

“No” 

“Cool breakfast?” she asked bringing her hand closer to him, surprised then both when he climbed on. her thumb gently rubbing his back as she walked she smiled feeling him lean closer for a moment almost relaxed then tensed up and leaned away with a growl she didn't acknowledge that anything that happened but stopped not wanting to push her luck. Just gently put him down and started cooking. Only to see Eclipse on his tip toes trying to see what she was doing. If you promise not to bite me or set me on fire you can sit on my shoulder while I cook eclipse. She said not turning to face him

…. 

She almost thought he was going to walk away or try and fly down to the floor but then she heard the smallest sound of him saying ok. She was amazed by how warm he was as he sat on her shoulder, legs crossed, one hand holding her shoulder, the other a piece of her short hair, “you smell like a campfire.” she said as she finished cooking

“Is that a bad thing?” Eclipse asked she could hear the smile in his voice as she put him down and made their plate omelets seem like a good breakfast she thought as she gave Eclipse his share on a small saucer

“No, but the ashes and soot that you are tracking around is a problem so you need new clothes and a bath or should I start calling you a soot fairy? This earned a loud groaning complete with his tongue sticking out and head tilting back making Zoe giggle which in turn made Eclipse mad as he shouted about what was so funny. His claws failed to scratch the smooth marble island

She giggled oh nothing just eat before your omelet gets cold she said with a smile the paperwork from last night sitting in an envelope signed and ready to be mailed she was giving this last change a shot because the sign she asked for seemed to appear right when she needed him even if he was a feral little thing…

(Bonus/the stupid idea that popped into my head that made my dyslexic brain spiral down into making a whole character and background story of how Eclipses met her. This is after eclipse and Zoe have been ‘friends’ for a little while and something happens that makes his brothers and the gardener meet Zoe because of course eclipse knows where his older brothers are and has been keeping track of them. I hope I got eclipse personality right and you had fun reading and it's not a bunch of gibberish lol) 

Around the table is tarped up, and there is a garden hose running from one of the windows to the table. The Gardner shakingly holding the hose watching eclipses, Zoe sitting at the table looking relaxed with one of those metal flat cookie baking sheets in one hand and an oven glove with fingers on just in case a fight broke out, to hopefully lessen the burns and bite marks if she had to grab eclipse off one of his brothers, though moon had doubts this humans could move fast enough to stop any of them. They had decided to try and talk this all out with the human's help. Inside so no one could fly off or just attack and run as the house was close up and all of the fairies were standing at the table. Sunny had been the one to come up with the water hose idea worried about the house getting damaged. Eclipse moves away from Zoe about to start talking, already moving his arms around a little as he walks closer to the Moon, Sun, and Lunar. The Gardner panics squeezing the handle of the hose only to get sprayed in the face as Zoe had blocked the water with the baking sheet making the water go everywhere but the table her hand moves blocking Eclipse's path as she looks over at the Gardner that had fallen out of their chair in their panic and smacks then on the head with the pan “you want an early grave dumbass?” 

“Language! It's not nice to hit people!” Sunny shouts from behind the moon 

“It's not nice to try and spray people with water either, it was like they were trying to piss off Eclipse right off the bat.” Zoe huffed, rolling her eyes she barely tapped them. They were fine. 

“Language!” 

“Oh dammit, this is going to be harder than I thought.” Zoe huffed rubbing her head already feeling like she going to get a headache as the gardner picked themself up of the floor know wet and thoroughly embarrassed 

“Language!” 

“...dammit a bad word?” Zoe asked confused. angry sunny noises, eclipse cackling and the Gardner is stumbling through an apology. 

[katapotato55]

my theory as to why doomers exist (and how to break that mentality to be a better writer)

yesterday my sibling texted me "hey can you list me what major historical events you experienced in life for an assignment? " of course I listed the big ones like COVID and other depressing shit I went through in my life but most of the ones i listed were not super depressing. here are some of them: -the rise of steve jobs and the popularity of modern OS -the rise of smartphones -new technology completely changing the world that I thought I would never see in my lifetime, like VR and self driving cars. -massive cultural impacts such as spongebob being created affecting pop culture -the start of facebook and modern social media -pluto being declared not a planet yknow stuff on the top of my head that I thought would be interesting to write about.

then my sibling came home to tell me that most of what I sent was not helpful at all and that they meant "world events" And i asked "how the hell is the invention of the smart phone and the beginning of modern social media not considered "world events" by these standards" they said "idk just not that"

I think what they meant to say was "my teacher only wants the really depressing miserable shit the media thinks is headline worthy"

You know, I think this is why my generation is full of so many doomers. God forbid we have a positive outlook on this world and try and look at the bright side of things. god forbid we try to be optimistic for both the future and our current lives. we seem to have this thin veil of maturity that depressing=mature somehow. That the only way to make anything of nuance is to basically spam "look how shit everything is! look how enlightened I am" like you are Steve cutts.

well you know what ?

I hate art like the stuff steve cutts makes, and I hate this redundant "look how shit the world is" mentality

I plan on making an analysis post later on about Mr. Cutts, but for now let's stay on point this mentality is redundant and helps no one. yes. we do need to be aware of the bad parts of life. But being a pathetic miserable sod and ignoring the upsides is just as immature and childish as an aggressive optimist thinking the world is all sunshine and rainbows. you know why I like undertale so much ? Undertale knows when to be optimistic and has a mature take on a happy ending. Undertale ALLOWS itself to be happy. enough with the rick and morty level of writing where everything sucks and "fuck you in particular for being hopeful" only edgy 14 year olds think being depressing is the same as being mature. Maturity is understanding that there is nuance to everything and understanding that things are what they are. Do you want to be a good writer ? stop overly relying on being a sad doomer. Even the darkest writers in history like Edgar Allen Poe knew how to lighten the fuck up, because you need to understand the positives in life to effectively create dark writing.

thank you for reading this ironically negative rant, I plan to expand more on the subject later on.

EDIT

ngl i was honestly scared this post would open me up to harassment. I was genuinely terrified of attracting the psycho political crowd that treats politics like religious doctrine. first of all, shout out to this person:

I feel like this would be the perfect opportunity to talk about my struggle with depression as an artist and the stereotype behind it. the stereotype is that only the best artists are emotionally tortured people constantly struggling in agony and putting that into their art. now as someone who has been battling depression for 10 years let me tell you: that mentality is a load of horse shit. the greatest artists in history such as Van Gogh were not great artists because they were depressed they were great artists because they had a combination of passion and unique life experience. It just so happens that depression is a unique life experience to go through. being depressed does not make you deep, it just makes you feel empty and possibly sad depending on what flavor of depression you have. all the great stories about depression are not great because its about depression, but because its about the writers personal experiences and the love and hard work that went into making it. if Van gogh got treatment for his mental health issues, he would have still created art. Yes he created art as his job, but he also did it because he loved it and put his personal feelings and passion into his work. the biggest reason why I detest Steve Cutts is because there is no passion nor personal experience in his work. yes he is talented but most of his animations are just regurgitating all the bad things he could think of and nothing personal is going into it. (again I plan on making an analysis post about steve cutts sooner or later) What makes the art of Van Gogh deep and Steve Cutts as deep as a dry puddle is the fact that you can tell who put their own soul and personality into their work. heed my warning new artists and writers depression =/= deep all depression does is cripple you. Seek out life experience to be the best artist you can be.

[mrsparrasblog]

Highscool AU CoD Pt1

1 September 1990

Pt2

SIMON'S POV

"Your son will never be anything proper if he keeps going to that snob school," my father screamed at my mother as usual. It wasn’t like I wanted to go to that damn boarding school anyway; I didn't want to leave Tommy alone with my dad.

"He's got a full ride scholarship. Do you know how much money we're saving?" No costs for food for me, no hockey equipment, nothing; it was all paid for just so I could play hockey at this damn school.

"He's still with all these trust fund brats. These kids grow up with a silver spoon in their lives, he gets messed up and thinks he can study and do other crap."

"Jim, fuck off. Your son is going to be a hockey player, for fuck's sake."

I left the kitchen, walking back to my room, packing the last things I needed before taking the train to Exeter. The uniform mom bought me was two sizes too big. She said I would fit into it soon, but it wouldn't help my case that no one in this school wanted to talk to the scholarship boy. I just wanted to go to a normal school in Manchester, hang out with my mates, watch football with them, and not do hockey. I didn't want to become a professional ice hockey player, but I also didn’t want to disappoint mom, so hockey it is.

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

The train would leave in 10 minutes. My family and I already stood at the rail.

"I'm going to write you, Tommy, and I'll come back most weekends." Tommy clung to my legs, desperate for me not to leave again like last time. I knew dad would probably beat Tommy up again for being so emotional.

"Dad."

"Son."

We only nodded at each other, and then mom hugged me tight, not wanting to let go of me. I walked inside the train, searching for an empty compartment. Hopefully, there was no one from my school on this train. I needed this time to prepare myself for the hell I would endure for the next year.

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

I arrived at Exeter. The bus took me to my home for the next year: Northbridge Academy.

Around the gate stood all sorts of cars. Most students got driven here instead of taking the train like I did. Their cars would make dad fuss again about how posh this place is. Ferraris, Porsches, and Bugattis were the cars of the poorer students. They would probably laugh about Dad's Honda Civic.

My stomach growled. I knew it wouldn’t get food until the evening today in the mess hall. It was like a sort of ritual welcoming the first years, introducing them, mostly telling what their parents did for a living and which sport they would do in this school. I remembered last year when I was introduced: "Simon Riley. Mom's a nurse, and Dad's unemployed. He will join the ice hockey team."

At that point, I knew I would get bullied after hearing all the things about the other students in my year. There was one scholarship boy too, Johnny. I thought we would be friends, but because of him being the goalie of our football team, everyone loved him despite his parents only being farmers. Of course, he befriended Kyle, the most popular guy around. He was filthy rich and posh. The girls all fancied him. He played as a striker, and rumors said that he would, after graduating his A levels, play for Arsenal.

"Sod off, Riley. Go back to where you belong, mud," Tiffany said as she spat on me. Tiffany was the most popular girl, but rather than Kyle, she wasn’t nice. She was mean and hated my guts, always telling me their family worked hard to achieve this place at Northbridge Academy, while I got it gifted. So she made me deserve it in other ways by bullying me with her little girls squad. But who cared?

A giant approached me, giving me a handkerchief and speaking in the most broken English I've ever heard. "Are you okay, little one?"

"Yes, it's okay, mate." He only nodded and went away.

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

I sat back in my class and listened to Ms. Lawson, our class teacher, telling us all about this year's classes.

"Let me introduce you to a new girl in the class. Come on, Ms. König," she smiled at a girl who shyly walked in front of the whole class with a batch of red velvet cookies in her hand.

She is incredibly beautiful, but she is a trust fund baby like everyone else. I could already see it; she wore a Chanel bow wrapped inside her blonde curly hair. She was taller than me by several inches; she was at least 5'3" while I only reached 4'11". But I'll be tall like my Dad someday, hopefully. She was a bit different than the other rich girls, though.

She wasn’t as skinny as them; she was a bit chubby. I never saw the problem in being chubby, but my classmates always made fun of chubby girls. Poor girl won't survive a second in this hell. The teacher told us that her Dad was the founder and CEO of Kortac. I didn’t know what this was, but judging by the way my classmates gasped, she must be filthy rich.

"Hello, I'm Elisabeth. Um, I moved to Cardiff with my brother and my mom. I was born in Vienna, Austria. I do ballet, gymnastics, and I like to bake," she smiled.

"Well, we see that she likes baking," Tiffany whispered to Laurie, both of the girls giggling.

"You should probably be nice to her, Tiff. Mom told me about Kortac," Jilian said, and Tiffany nodded. I didn’t know what Kortac was, but it sounded like something not good.

Elisabeth walked towards the back of the class, sitting at the table next to me. What just happened? She smiled at me, reaching out with her hands towards me. It took two minutes till I grabbed it and shook it. "I'm Simon."

"I'm Elisabeth. Do you want a cookie?" She smiled and almost stuffed the red velvet cookie in my mouth. It was delicious, like an explosion in my mouth. This was so nice from her; she probably didn’t know that it would be her social ruin being friends with me. Slow fantasies about having a friend in this school crept up inside my head. It was unrealistic, but a nice thought; even if she was a girl, better than nothing, right? She was nice, and her cookies were good.

"Thank you for the cookies."

"I'll always feed everyone."

"You should never feed a stray dog," I joked. If she only knew her cookie was the first thing I ate in two days.

"Hm, but I like collecting stray dogs," she laughed. A friend. I had a friend. I couldn’t mess this up.

The girls' squad approached us; they probably would humiliate me, and then she starts to laugh at me.

"König? You should probably reconsider your taste in friends; this mutt here is on a scholarship basis here." God, how I hated Tiffany.

"Oh, I think I'll have great taste in friends. I mean, I'm not friends with you," Elisabeth smiled. She looked so sweet, and now she was protecting me in front of Tiffany. My new friend was a feisty one.

"He is poor, don’t you understand?" Tiffany scoffed, disgusted.

"What do your parents do, Tiffany?" and for a second, I was afraid she is now influenced by the 5'5 tall skinny Louis Vuitton-wearing cunt.

"My father is a plastic surgeon, and my mother is a lawyer," Tiffany chimed proudly, only earning a laugh from Elisabeth.

"This explains why you can only afford Louis Vuitton. So, Tiffany, my Dad is richer four times than your family, so I'm more than rich enough for Simon and me together. So please leave before I punch your smug face." Her eyelashes fluttered, and a mischievous grin spread across her face. While Tiffany walked away furious, earning us the glances of Kyle's squad.

"Sorry about that. I'm normally nicer; I just don’t like bullies."

"Don’t apologize; that was bloody brilliant."

"So, Simon, which sport do you do?"

"Ice hockey."

"Wow, I loved ice skating as a kid."

"Why ballet then and not figure skating?" I asked her, curious. She would make a great figure skater; she walks so elegantly and doesn’t slop.

"School provides only partner figure skating, and I'm a bit too heavy for that," I didn’t want to agree with her; I would probably struggle picking her up. But I couldn’t even carry 25 pounds. Coach told me I need to work on my strength this month, before I could react and try to say something nice, something weird happened.

"Awright, I'm John Mactavish, mah loue," John never associated with me, and now he comes to my table to speak with my new friend.

"I'm sorry, John; my English, I don’t understand you," she looks at him with apologetic puppy eyes.

"Ah, sorry, I'm Scottish, but if you’d like some tutoring, I'd be available, Ellie?"

“Don’t listen to MacTavish; he almost failed English last year,” I remarked snarky. Normally, I tried to down my sarcasm at this school, make myself as small as possible, but alone, her laugh was worth making myself noticeable.

"Shut up, mate, you're destroying my chances with Ellie."

"I hate nicknames," she grumbled.

"We'll see about that, Bonnie."

"Elisabeth, not Bonnie."

Sure, here's the corrected version:

"You're funny, hen," he laughed before walking away.

"Is everyone so intense here?"

"Yes."

"You don’t talk much, do you?"

"Not really."

"So, I think we will have a great friendship," she smiled at me, and maybe this year won't be hell after all.

"How come you can call me 'Si' but don’t allow nicknames?"

"Because I'm pretty and funny, Si," she pointed her tongue at me playfully.

"Pretty, yes, funny, no, Lizzie," she blushed as I called her pretty; the pink on her cheeks looked cute. Wait, what am I thinking?

"Really, Lizzie?"

"Yes, Lizzie."

After the feast and for the first time in this school not sitting alone eating, I went to the male dorms. Last year, I shared my dorm with a bunch of older guys from the team; this year, I got new dorm partners. I walked into dorm 13B and read the paper on top of it.

Garrick - Perfect. Kyle the jock was in the room.

MacTavish - Even worse than Kyle.

Riley

Volkov

König- Wait, isn’t that Lizzy's last name? But she is a girl, right? She looked like a girl, at least.

Price - He once punched a bully in the face, so he was nice, I guess.

I walked inside the room, seeing that everyone was already unpacking their stuff in the bunk.

Kyle's corner was full of his football trophy and posters of Arsenal London; he took the most place in the closet he shared with Johnny. Of course, he was one of the wealthiest kids in this school; his parents owned several newspapers, shops, and his mother was the heiress of British Petroleum.

Johnny's corner was messy, the wall full of little doodles. I never knew he'd like to draw so much; most of his normal clothes were full of paint stains. It kinda made him more sympathetic.

Nik and Price shared a bunk, like I'd thought; their side was full of posters from Nirvana, Guns N' Roses, and Metallica. Nik's father was the CEO of Aeroflot, so the little plane model didn’t surprise me. John's parents were a curse; his father was on the way to becoming the Prime Minister of England, making the press watch every move of him.

I decorated my room with some ice hockey posters and a picture of me and Tommy; I needed to write him a letter, or else he thinks I've forgotten him. The door opened, and the nice giant from earlier walked inside; this must have been Lizzy's brother and my bunkmate now.

"Hallo," he said awkwardly, ducking his head under the frame. He must be over 6ft tall; I wondered how old he is.

"That's König, mates. He isn’t very good with his English, so fuck off if you complain about his accent," Price commanded; he was like his dad, a natural leader.

"Man, how tall are you?" Johnny asked, curious and, of course, he didn’t know any social clues, idiot.

"1.88 meters."

"That's 6'2" Nikolai explained, knowing the metric system because of his Russian heritage.

I just closed my eyes, ignoring the banter of my roommates, finally falling asleep in that uncomfortable bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night by a cry from under me; that's awkward. I never knew how to react in this situation, especially if a 6'2" guy cries.

"Shh, Elli, es ist nur ein Traum. Ich passe auf dich auf. Sie finden dich nicht; du bist sicher, okay?" (It's just a dream; I'll protect you. They won't find you; you're safe.) It wasn’t his cry; it was Lizzy's. That made it only worse; I didn’t know if I could say or do anything, so I only listened to her sobs, like the weak boy I was. Dad was right; I am useless. I have a friend for one day, but when she is upset, I'm hiding in my bed, listening to her cry like a bloody coward.

The next morning, I went to the mess hall, sitting down next to Lizzie. I had a table now; I was finally inside of it.

"Ach du scheiße—what are you eating?"

"Uh, beans with toast and hash browns."

"That's disgusting," she sniffed.

"Did you even try it?"

"No."

"So why do you think it's disgusting?"

"It looks funky, and breakfast should be a hot roll with some homemade jam or maybe a butter pretzel."

"That sounds German."

"Austrian."

"So why are you eating cereal then?"

"They looked funny," she gestured at her fruit loops and smiled at the bright colors, giving me the spoon so I could taste it. It was an unfamiliar gesture, and she kinda behaved differently than the other rich girls; she behaved carelessly.

"Aye, scoot over, Simon," Johnny sat down at our table with his tray full of sausages and eggs, taking Kyle with him. Both sat down next to us; I felt like I was stuck in a parallel universe.

It got even worse when König, Nik, and John joined the table, making our table completely full. I didn’t like the new size of our friend group. Yesterday, I had only Lizzie, and now I'm stuck with five blokes.

"I'm John Price, by the way," he took Lizzie's hand and gave her a handkiss, making her blush and giggle, while König gave him a death glare. "No touching my sister."

"So, König, which football club do you like?" Kyle asked.

"FC Bayern München, you?" the giant answered.

"Arsenal will play for it someday," Kyle said proudly.

"Manchester United."

"Aye, Celtic FC."

"Of course, a Scottish club," I muttered.

"They're great."

"Tottenham Hotspur," John said proudly, and everyone besides Lizzie started to laugh.

"Mate, no, that's embarrassing."

"Shut it, Garrick."

"If I play for Arsenal, I'll beat Tottenham every day."

"You sure will," John rolled his eyes.

"Elli? Do you fancy a club?"

"I don’t like football."

"What the fuck?" everyone shouted at once.

"It's not hard; it's boring. Try gymnastics or ballet; that's a real sport, and not something where you whine because someone crossed you, stealing your ball," Johnny's and Kyle's faces fell down; how dare she insult their precious sport. It was actually funny how she had all her opinions and was never afraid to spit them out.

"You can come and watch my next rugby game; that's a real sport," John winked at her.

"No flirting with my sister, no touching my sister, no dating my sister until 18," König looked at John with his intimidating facial expression, ready to tower over all of us.

"Eighteen is a bit too early. Oh no, I never date at all; I'll grow old with a bunch of kittens," she smiled while fiddling with her bow in her hand.

"That's a loss for me, hen," poor Johnny will probably get beaten up by the end of the year if he doesn’t stop flirting.

"Why is your bow not in your hair, Lizzie?"

"Tiffany made fun of it, and she was right; it's childish."

"Du liebst deine Schleife?" (You love your bow?) Without a word, I stood up and took her bow and placed it on top of her head. This bow was probably more worth than my mom's paycheck, but still. She is my friend, so I need to be there for her like she protected me yesterday.

"Tiffany is a cunt; you want that bow, you wear that bow." The table agreed with my comment and enjoyed their food.

"What's your next subject, Si?"

"Chemistry."

"Me too," she said and grabbed my hand, pulling me with her to the next class.

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

Chapter 1.1 - The Unexpected Visit

Chapter 1.1 - The Unexpected Visit

Pairing: Harry Potter x Chosen One! Reader

‘“I dunno what it was, no one does – but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.” Hagrid turned to you, a mixture of warmth and respect blazing in his kind eyes. You straightened your back, preening under his gaze. So, what he was saying, basically was that you were the hero of the wizarding world. It had been you. The antidote to the disease. The champion. You were the saviour.’ OR: in which unexpected encounters open your eyes to a whole new world. One, it seems, you know nothing about, but knows everything about you. → Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world. A swap au where you are the chosen one, your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers. Author’s note: throughout this chapter I’ve put in some obvious parallels to the canon HP universe, but as we progress through the whole series, the plot may or may not become more canon divergent since you are you, and not Harry Potter… Anyways, welcome!!! Let’s see what (Y/n) (L/n), the girl who lived, gets up to. Thank you and enjoy! Series Masterlist

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Your scar was hurting.

The lightning bolt-shaped mark that rested above your right eye, in a manner of which your foster-mother, Mira Caddel, despised. Your hair had always been a flying mess because of her insistence in shaping it in such a particular way that it hid your ‘hideous scar’. You had definitely been through your pick of crude hairstyles and forced bangs in your lifetime. 

It also didn’t help that your foster-sister, Odette, enjoyed grabbing the ends of it when she pushed your head into the bowl of the toilet. You swore that she ripped out at least half of your head when she did (yet, strangely enough, when you got back up, your hair was as normal as it normally was).

Anyways, back to the matter at hand, you supposed. 

Your scar typically didn’t pain you. It was more like a weirdly-shaped birthmark at its best. But, right now, it was throbbing, releasing shockwaves of pain that reverberated throughout your head. 

You tried thinking of what you’d done to cause this. You couldn’t have hit your head on anything (even though this was a common occurrence since you had outgrown the cupboard under the stairs years ago), because you had just woken up. You didn’t think it was the usual migraine either, because they didn’t want to make you want to scratch off your lightning-bolt scar. You quite liked it after all — it added to your timeless charm. 

Maybe it was something you ate last night? What did you do last night? You couldn’t remember it point-blank but —

Oh, that was right. Seconds ago, you were fast asleep, in a dream that involved a bright green flash of light and the sound of a small child’s cry. You had a funny feeling that you’d had the same dream before. 

You clutched your forehead. The pain was slowly becoming unbearable, as though someone had stabbed a knife into your brain. You looked around, hoping to find some relief or explanation, but all you saw was the familiar sight of your tiny, cramped room. The floor was littered with clothes, books, and toys that you had collected over the years, mostly from the trash or the charity shops.

A sharp rapping on the door to the cupboard caused you to jump. 

A gruff voice snapped out. “Oi, girl! You awake yet? C’mon!” 

You groaned, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Callum Caddel, the final puzzle piece to your ‘family’, if that’s what one would call this arrangement. He was your foster father, a well-established family man to most, but a wacky old sod to you. He always managed to go out of his way to irritate or prod a taunting comment toward you. 

Your real parents, you’d been told, were killed in a car accident when you were very little. About one year old, too. That was also how you’d acquired your lightning scar. The Caddels didn’t often answer your questions about your biological family, mostly because they didn’t know the answers themselves. You had wound up in the foster care system for about two years before they had taken you in, although you presumed the only reason they did was because they got a sum of two hundred pounds a month for it. The Caddels often did find themselves on the shorter side of the economical scale, and from your own experience, knew how they jumped like fishes out of a bowl at any chance of opportune (free) money.

You stood up, dusting off your tattered pyjamas. A spider scurried up the pant leg, and you bent down to pick it off. Spiders weren’t an odd presence in your humble abode, in fact, you thought yourself to be basically a spider magnet of sorts considering how many you’d find latched to you when you woke up.

The fast knocking resumed. “I want you out! Out!”

You pulled open the door harshly, meeting the pink, rounded, wheezing face of Callum. You snarked at him. “Woulda keep quiet, old man? I’m up.”

“Good riddance,” he spat, looking awfully sour for someone with a chocolate stain on the right side of his mouth. “Hurry up and make us breakfast, girl. We do our own jobs around here, you need to pick up slack! Least, I remind you that you were the one to pick that as your chore. Don’t you know how long we’ve waited for you to wake up?” You eyed him distastefully. “I don’t see much waiting,” referring to the brown mark on his face. 

He swelled like a bullfrog, huffing and crossing his arms across his chest. “What did you say to me?” You run a hand down your face. It was too early for this. Brushing past him, you entered the kitchen and began your routine of cracking eggs onto the pan.

You had just begun to fry the bacon when Odette herself decided to grace the kitchen with her glorious presence. Odette looked like an odd mix between her two parents. Her face was in a perpetual state of pinky rage, and her neck blended seamlessly into her torso (in a way that made it seem she did not have any neck at all). Her blue eyes were wide-spread and little, obviously drawn freckles lined her cheeks, sort of in a straight line. You enjoyed making fun at how her freckles seemed to be inching ever so slightly off her face everyday. With how aggressively she would apply them, some freckles would end up roughly the same size as a failed chocolate chip cookie. Her black hair was down, greasy and shiny and damp, which didn’t help her case either.

You were glad that you were not forced to share the same bathroom as her, because the times you’d stepped foot in it (you were forced to scrub it clean, you would have never done it willingly), the poor drain was quite literally clogged with what seemed to be half of Odette’s scalp. You would say that the poor thing ate more than its owner, and that was certainly saying something.

Mira entered the kitchen soon after. Her skin was deeply tanned from all the fake-tanning solutions she’d gone through, still, it was very patchy and not done well at all. Her box-dyed blonde hair was thrown over her shoulder and she brushed her long, claw-like fingers through it. “She looks like a doll”, Callum loved to swoon and you would love to reply with exaggerated, painful gagging, which never went down well with the Caddels.

She narrowed her eyes at you before taking a seat at the table and waving her hand at you. “Glad to see you’re up.”

You glared at her, muttering “lazy oaf”, under your breath before handing out the plates until there was only yours left. It was a flimsy child’s plate, one that Odette had outgrown at the ripe age of four. You powered through your food, the smiling face of Bambi peeking through your slowly diminishing heap of bacon.

Odette’s ugly mug began to twist itself into her gruesome smirk, and her lips parted. Probably to hurl out a teasing jab at your oversized clothes (which was not a phase!) or messy hair. But, before said insult could escape your foster-sister, you all heard the click of the letter-box followed by the flop of letters on the door mat.

Too intune with the deliciously appealing food on your plate, you did your very best to ignore the petulant stares of the Caddels, the stares that edged you down expectantly to fetch the mail. 

“Get the post, Odette,” you snapped at her, not glancing up from your precious. 

She huffed and got up to get the post.

Your ears were finally being blessed, listening to the heavy thumps as Odette tramped her way down the corridor to the front door. Just as you sank into your chair lazily, her high-pitched shrill cut through the air of the Caddels’ kitchen. 

Mira gasped and sprung up from her chair. “Odette!” She sprinted to where you’d heard the scream. The pointy part of her high heel hooked onto the leg of the chair you were sitting on, causing her to stumble. She caught herself on the back of your chair, but the force of her grip somehow managed to topple it over, sending you almost flying and then rolling across the floor. 

Groaning, you sat up from your new position on the ground. The clicking of heels and the heavy pants emitted from Mira and Callum respectively grew distant, as the pair of them rushed to check on their precious daughter.

Now, you didn’t really care about the girl herself, but when there was just the slightest possibility that she could be out there, embarrassing herself or prissing her pants in fear - well, now that was an opportunity you couldn’t bear to miss.

As you follow after them, you deliberated whether or not to pop up over to get the camera in order to capture the moment ahead of you.

Looking back, you think that, perhaps, you should have, considering that very moment was to become one of the very best ones you would ever have in your life.

“Who - who are you?” you heard Callum shout. “Don’t you dare come in! Don’t y - !”

“Ah, shut up Caddel, yeh great prune.” retorted another voice.

You did not recognise that voice. The Caddels were social people, sure. They frequently left the house for social outings, like the occasional meetings run by Callum’s drill firm, but never had someone stepped foot near the house. Too ashamed to reveal the tiny size of their floor plan, you reckoned, or maybe they were afraid that the dreadful state of your cupboard under the stairs would scare the lot of them off.

Of course, that did not mean no one knew of your existence. Years of praying that some knight in shining armour would come to whisk you away from the Caddels led you to pick up on rather strange occurrences. Very strange strangers would often stop (quite dramatically too) in the middle of the street to gawk at you. A tiny, funny looking man in a violet top hat had bowed to you once, or when a terribly old woman had winked at you from inside a bus. Ms Fig, the cranky, resident catwoman and your babysitter, down the street also treated you with a gentle softness, offering you extra packs of crisps to take home with you.  

The point was, this whole situation was odd. But why?

Your feet skidded against the floor as you came to a stop. 

A giant man, one no less than ten feet, with a great, scraggly beard and obsidian eyes that glinted slightly in the light, was stood in the doorway. You barely had time to notice that the poor door was hanging off its hinges, like it had been forcibly opened. 

The house was already rundown and shabby enough, and you hoped the giant man would pay for the repair funds. The house wasn’t big enough to fit the four of you, let alone some giant. This was evident when he squeezed his body into the house, causing the door to pop off its frame and go crashing down. The giant man jumped slightly, and the back of his head bumped into the hanging light bulb on the roof. Tiny little shards of crystals pelted down. 

Odette squealed and stumbled backwards into the house. The other two, who had gone ghost white with fear, were opening and closing their mouths like lost fish. Callum raised his pointer finger at the giant man, but did nothing more.

The giant’s eyes swivelled around the room before settling on you. His face, still hidden under his mass of hair, grew into a warm smile at the sight of you. A smile, you decided, had to take second place on your very short list of best smiles (after your smile, of course. The Caddels hadn’t qualified, with their hideous jugs, so it was a meagre list of two). 

“Ah, there she is! ‘Ello, (Y/n).”

You looked toward him, and if your hands wanted to tremble, you didn’t show it.

Who was this man, and how did he know your name?

“Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby.” the giant man’s smile grew. His eyes swept you up and down, certainly taking note of the baggy, rumpled clothes you had on. “I got summat fer yeh.”

He turned around, fishing for something inside the massive coat he had on. He spun back around, brandishing two things; a letter made from yellowish parchment paper with a purple wax seal, and a slightly squashed box.

Now it was your mouth that was openly gaping at the man. He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning, before handing you the letter.

You almost ripped it out of his hands, your curiosity taking over you. The giant man chuckled at your eagerness. 

Ms (Y/n) (L/n)

The Cupboard under the Stairs

5 Alva St

Midlothian

You stared at the letter. 

You did often get letters. You were quite popular at school, after all, for your reckless charm. But, still, no one knew about the cupboard under the stairs. Not even a single whisper of it was breathed outside of the house. 

“W-what is that?” Mira croaked out. You had forgotten she was there.

The giant man looked like he was about to snap her at but you beat him to it. “Well, that’s what I’m finding out obviously. You think I know more than you?”

The giant man huffed out a small chuckle at your hostility.

Ignoring the faint flushing of Mira’s tanned face, and Callum turning a slight purple on behalf of his wife, you flipped the letter over and yanked out the paper within.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Ms (L/n),

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

You read the letter, and felt a warm tingle surge through your body. 

Excitement. 

Hagrid smiled warmly at you.

“Yer a witch, (Y/n).” 

You had always known you were different, that you had something special inside you. The strange occurrences, the oddly shaped scar on your forehead. That didn’t happen to just anyone. You weren’t like the Caddels, you knew you never had been.

And now, you had proof. You were a witch. A real, honest-to-goodness witch. 

You grinned down at the letter, before tilting your head at the giant man. “I can’t believe it. A witch. That’s — that’s well, incredible!”

The giant man was openly laughing at your ecstasy. Even Mira, Callum and Odette had nothing to say. You could see them craning their necks to stare at the letter in your hands.

You smiled at the giant once more when a sudden thought struck you. “Ah — er, maybe I should’ve started with this, but, who are you exactly?”

His shoulders shook with each of his chuckles. “The name’s Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper o’ Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts — yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’course.”

Mira stepped forward, quite suddenly. “I don’t understand. A witch? What are you talking about? Witches, wizards — the whole thing! Those aren’t real!”

Your smile faltered at this. In your excitement (the prospect of finally being whisked away from here), perhaps you had allowed a cloud of delusion to settle over your head. She was right. Magic? Wouldn’t you have known if there was a magical society thriving right under your nose? 

You shook your head at this. No. There had to be one. There just had to.

Hagrid’s face fell but he was quick to bring it back up. “Tha’s right. You lot are muggles. Yer hadn’t an inkling of magic.”

“What are muggles?” you asked, perking up at the unfamiliar jargon.

“A muggle,” Hagrid began, “is what we call non-magic folk like them. It’s real bad luck that you ‘ad to grow up with ‘em, instead of yer parents. I knew we shoulda left ya wit’ a wizarding family… ‘least then yeh woulda known about - ”

His eyes widened with realisation as he whipped around suddenly to face you, a sad expression taking over his features. “Then tha’ means you never learnt about yer parents. About Hogwarts. About yerself!”

He looked quite distressed, as he ran a hand down his big face. “A sad thing, really. The whole situ’tion with yer parents. A huge scandal, ‘specially since yeh don’t even know what happened. Ya know, every kid in our world knows yer name? Yer famous!”

Hagrid looked at you, his eyes sparkling brightly. You blinked dumbly.

“Yer famous!” he repeated, noticing the stunned faces on your and the Caddel’s faces. “Gulpin’ gargoyles, I knew Dumbledore said yeh didn’t know much but, I didn’t expec’ yeh knew so little.”

You sucked in a breath, chest puffing out affront. You certainly knew your stuff. Hell, you were salutatorian in your maths class, captain of the football team and the most liked person in your year level. You definitely weren’t stupid, if that was what Hagrid was suggesting.

Hagrid sighed deeply. “It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but its incredible yeh don’t know his name, everyone in our world knows — ”

“Who?” you asked testily, not quite enjoying the way he was talking about this whole thing like it was as obvious as the sky was blue or the grass was green.

“Well — I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”

“Why not?” “People are still scared of ‘im. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His  name was…” Hagrid visibly gulped. 

“Can you write it down?” you suggested helpfully, unfolding your arms.

“Nah - can’t spell it. All right - Voldemort.” Hagrid flinched, like some had just rammed a knife into his back. “Don’ make me say it again. Anyways, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ‘em too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ‘ cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, didn’t knew who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange witch or wizards… terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. ‘Course, some stood up to him - an’ he killed ‘em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then anyway.”

He breathed out, wiping at his eyes. “Now, yer mum was as good a witch I ever knew. Yer father was great as well. Brillian’, the two of ‘em were. Truly. But then, You-Know-Who turned up in the village where you was all living, on Hallowe’en ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’ — an’ —”

He stopped suddenly, pulled out a very dirty handkerchief and blew his nose with it. A noise that caused the remaining chandeliers to rattle.

“He killed them,” you said quietly. It hadn’t been a car crash… no. They were murdered.

“He killed ‘em. An’ then — an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing — he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin’ by then. But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an’ dad an’ yer house, even — but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ‘em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.”

You raised your hand to cup the scar on your face. A vivid flash of green filled your vision, but this time, you could hear something else — a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid sighed again. “Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter a buildin’ an’ — ” he reached for his handkerchief. “An’ left yeh there, since yeh had no other family!” Hagrid dabbed at the corner of his eyes.

The amount of questions you held grew exponentially. “But, what happened to Vol — er — I mean, You-Know-Who?”

“Good question. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That’s the biggest myst’ry, see… he was gettin’ more an’ more powerful — why’d he go?

“Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he’s still out there, bidin’ his time, like, but I don’ believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of ‘em came outta kinda trances. Don’ reckon they could’ve done if he was comin’ back. Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere, but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. ‘Cause somethin’ about you finished him, (Y/n). There was somethin’ goin’ on that night he hadn’t counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.”

Hagrid turned to you, a mixture of warmth and respect blazing in his kind eyes. You straightened your back, preening under his gaze. So, what he was saying, basically was that you were the hero of the wizarding world. It had been you. The antidote to the disease. The champion. You were the saviour.

The Caddels gaped at you, and then at Hagrid, their heads swivelling like fans at a game of tennis. The foster-couple had their mouths angled toward the floor, looking positively bewildered and confounded at the entire exchange. You truly didn’t care what Mira and Callum thought of you. They were just muggles, according to Hagrid. They were ordinary and boring. Not like you.

You were a witch, a sorceress destined for greatness.

You looked up at the giant man, who was smiling at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “So, what do you say, Ms. (L/n)? Are you ready to join the wizarding world?”

You didn’t hesitate. You nodded eagerly, clutching the letter to your chest. “Yes, yes, yes! I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts!”

The giant man laughed heartily. “Tha’s the spirit, lass!”

“J-just hold on now,” muttered Callum, stepping forward. “That’s all dandy and all — ” you saw Hagrid’s eyebrow twitch. “—  but, who’s going to be paying for her funds? Not us, I can assure you.”

Hagrid scowled. “We’ll cover it then. Ungrateful old muggle.” 

You stifled a laugh. 

Callum snatched the letter from your hands, inspecting the list of equipment. “She needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books, wands, cauldrons. This is just some great joke isn’t it?” He turned to you suddenly, his moustache twitching violently. “You’re in one hell of a punishment after this, girl. Think it’s funny, do you? Wasting our time with this wizarding nonsense. Some hilarious prank.”

“It’s very much real,” spoke Hagrid, his voice rising steadily. “And don’ yeh worry yer little head off, Caddel. She’s one of us. You don’t need to be butting yer head into it now. Yeh’ve done all yeh needed to fer the past ten years, bare minimum from the looks of it, but we’ve got ‘er now. ”

Callum’s face went an ugly shade of purple. “Good, I suppose.” he replied stiffly. “Then get along.” 

He grabbed Mira’s shoulders and they started walking back into the kitchens. Odette turned to look at you, her eyes flickering to Hagrid, before her lips curled into a wide smirk. “Have fun, at your special school.”

You sent her a nasty glare, taking a step toward her before Hagrid disciplined her for you. A loud explosion blew Odette’s hair backwards, a warning blast that, to your pleasure, curtailed her growing ego. She shrieked and high-tailed it to the kitchen, sprinting faster than you’d ever seen her run before.

You barked out a laugh at Hagrid’s guilty face. 

“Sorry, shouldn’ta lost me temper. I’d be grateful yeh if didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts. I’m —  er —  not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter do a bit ter get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff — one o’ the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job — ”

“Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” you asked, tilting your head at him in interest.

“Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.”

“Why were you expelled?” “We’ve spent alotta time here,” said Hagrid loudly. “We still gotta get yer books an’ all. Let’s get goin’.”

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Diagon Alley was a strange little place.

After passing through a grubby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, and getting your hand furiously shaken by everyone in the store, Hagrid had led to the small outroom beside the pub and whacked his pink umbrella against a stray, mouldy looking brick.

You raised an eyebrow unimpressed when nothing happened after a second. The very next second, however, the entire structure began to collapse and expose the treasures hidden within. 

A knobbly street with stores positively hanging from the ground as they towered over everyone — even diminishing Hagrid of his giant stature. From what you could see, there was a cauldron shop with various different kinds of pewter, copper, brass, even silver cauldrons. There was an owl emporium, from which you could hear the distant chirping of owls, and a ‘Quidditch store’ (whatever that was) with boys and girls around your own age stood around the place, pressing their noses to the glass. At the very end of the street, there was a snowy-white building, significantly larger than the rest, whose sign read ‘Gringotts.’ 

Hagrid had debriefed you on some of the commonly known things in the wizarding world; one of which was Gringotts. Gringotts was the resident wizarding bank, where wizards would deposit their money (knuts, sickles and galleons) into vaults that were fiercely guarded by goblins. Apparently your parents had even stored a wizarding fortune for you in one of those little vaults.

And so was true. A goblin named Griphook cracked open your vault to reveal piles and mountains of bronze, silver and gold coins. You reached inside and grabbed as many coins as would fit into your pouch. 

You visited another vault too, one for ‘secret Hogwarts business’ as Hagrid put it. Of course, you tried your best to get a peak at the small item wrapped delicately in its brown paper package, but Hagrid had been quick to shove it into his coat pocket.

After a tumultuous cart ride back up to the surface, you went about doing some boringish house-keeping work, which included sizing your robes, buying your books, stationary and other equipment (Hagrid wouldn’t let you get the rainbow, colour changing ink bottle nor the quill that sung melodies to you as you wrote).

The last thing that was left was getting your wand. But before that, Hagrid had departed mysteriously, telling you to stay put at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour with your chocolate and raspberry ice cream (with chopped nuts) until he returned.  

Naturally, you did not stay put.

Sauntering over to the ‘Quidditch’ shop you had passed before, ice cream cone in hand, you joined the small crowd still present in front of the display windows. You took a small lick of the chocolate syrup as you squinted your eyes at the thing everyone was obsessing over.

A broomstick.

You stifled a laugh. Of course, witches and wizards rode brooms – what else were you expecting? It must’ve been a form of transportation here. The label under the broom read ‘Nimbus Two Thousand - newest model of the Nimbus line.’ You looked at it appreciatively. 

You leaned to the right slightly, trying to look at the models surrounding the Nimbus, but you swayed too far and ended up bumping shoulders with one of the boys next to you. He jumped and turned to you with a start.

“Sorry,” you grinned at him. “I was trying to look at the other brooms.”

He smiled back at you uncertainly. “That’s fine. Are you a first-year at Hogwarts too?” The boy had messy black hair and rounded glasses perched on his nose. His brilliantly emerald-stained eyes shone out, past the glare of his lenses, as he made eye contact with you. He was quite scrawny for his age too, or perhaps that was created by the robes he was donning. Weirdly, your breath stuttered slightly. Now that was strange - your breath had never frozen quite like that before. Maybe it was part of the wizard charm, he was the first wizard you had really talked to (aside from Hagrid, but you were still unsure if he was a giant, a wizard or both).

Oh cripes, he wanted an answer didn’t he? “Uh — yes, I am. First-year. Hogwarts.” You nodded, in order to solidify your statement.

“That’s cool,” said the boy. His hair flopped onto his face and he pushed it back to expose the unmarred skin on his forehead. Your hair too had also fallen onto your face, covering your scar, but you weren’t as fussed about adjusting it. “I’m a first-year as well.” He gestured to the shop in front of you. “Do you like Quidditch? Well, you’re standing here so you probably do. Do you play much? What position?”

“If we’re being honest here, I frankly have no idea what you’re talking about.” You scratched your cheek, smiling sheepishly at the boy. He blinked, tilting his head. “Oh, like you don’t know what Quidditch is? At all?” “Yeah.” you answered. “I just came here to check out what had everyone so excited.”

“Oh, okay,” said the boy. “Are you a muggle-born then? Sorry — I hadn’t realised.” You continued to smile blankly at him, head empty from the stuff he was speaking of (what on earth was a muggle-born?).

“I’m a half-blood, see. My father’s a pure-blood, but my mum’s a muggle-born,” he said. “They’re out picking up some extra supplies with my uncles. Don’t worry if you aren’t familiar with anything yet! My mum was too, when she was invited to Hogwats, but then she ended up being top of her year and head girl. Here, let me explain Quidditch to you - you’ll love it…”

The boy rambled on with his speech about the sport - something about seven players, four balls, something called a chaser? which was what position he played. You certainly didn’t absorb anything he was saying, but you did note that he had a nice smile. A bit awkward and unsure, but it was still nice.

He was about to dive into the finer details of the game when Hagrid’s voice called out. “(Y/n)! (Y/n), where are you?!” 

You grinned apologetically at the boy, stuffing the end part of the cone into your mouth. “Sorry - that’ll be me. Great talking to you though, see ya at Hogwarts!”

You began to scurry away toward the sound of Hagrid’s distressed call, missing the way the boy’s green eyes widened at your name. “(Y/n)... (L/n)?”

His father, James Potter, snuck up behind him and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “What’s up, little Prongslet?”

The rest of his family came piling up behind the two. His mother, Lily Potter, whose forest-green eyes and bright red hair were positively sparkling at the sight of her husband and son. Lagging slightly behind were his uncle, Remus Lupin – with his robes prim and proper, not shabby at all, how he liked them – and his other uncle, Sirius Black, who was currently partaking (with much joy, might one add) in trying to pull Remus’s robe hood over his face. 

“Alright, Harry?” asked Lily, her fingers brushing away his bangs. “What’re you looking at?” “Um. Nothing,” said Harry Potter, tearing his eyes away from the spot you were last standing and back to his family. They met his gaze with their own warm, bright ones. “At least, I think so.”

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

The thing, Hagrid had left to do, ended up being a present for you. A little something for your admission into Hogwarts, he had mentioned. You were grinning ear to ear, thanking him profusely, when you had discovered what he had given you. You were proud to say that now, tucked delicately under your left arm, was a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. You’d have to decide a name for her later, you thought.

The final store to get checked off was a shabby building tucked nicely away in the corner of Diagon Alley. Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

The place was tiny and quiet, and it almost reminded you of a strange library - though the only difference was that it was near empty and the shelves were lined with boxes containing wands rather than books.

Hagrid took a seat on a small pink spindly chair, though he nearly leaped off it when a soft voice echoed out within the small shop. “Good afternoon.”

“Hello!” you said back, twisting your neck to try and get a glimpse of the voice. “I’m (Y/n) - “ “(L/n). (Y/n) (L/n), yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon.” An old man popped up in front of you, his watery grey eyes fervently scanning your figure up and down. 

Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on your forehead with a long, white finger. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out in the world to do…”

He shook his head, before suddenly whipping out a measuring tape to eyeball the length of your dominant arm.

“I remember when your mother was here, buying her first wand. Twelve inches exactly, malleable, unicorn hair. Aspen.” The measuring tape flew away from his hands, now measuring the width of your nostrils by itself.

Your mouth blubbered slightly, gaping at the man in astonishment. “How do you remember that?” The man chuckled. “I remember all of the wands I’ve ever sold, (Y/n) (L/n).”

“Do you know my father’s one, then?” “Your father never purchased a wand.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Was your father like Hagrid then? Expelled from Hogwarts before he could get a wand? (Well, Hagrid did have a wand you guessed, tucked inside his flowery pink umbrella). Your eyes widened. 

Was Hagrid your fath —

“He was a muggle,” explained Mr Ollivander. The tape had now switched to measuring the length of your face. “He didn’t have any magic.”

“Oh.” was all you said in reply.

“That’s quite enough,” he spoke to the tape, which fell limp to the floor. “Right then, Ms (L/n). Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it, and give it a wave.”

You took the wand from his hands but before you could do so much as to lift it, Mr Ollivander snatched it out of your hand at once.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -”

And try you did, but Mr Ollivander had snatched it back almost instantaneously once again.

“No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.” You tried. And tried. And a little more. The pile of wands on the spindly grew and grew until the poor chair was squeaking and compressing under the weight. Yet, despite the failures in finding your wand, the more Mr Ollivander pulled from the walls, the happier he became.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

You took the wand and it immediately spluttered to life. A shower of golden sparks exploded from its tips as you brought it swooshing down from your head. An explosion of colourful fireworks emitted from it, creating little light spots, like the sort you’d find at the surface of a swimming pool. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… How curious. How very curious…”

He began wrapping your wand in a brown paper bag. “Curious… curious…”

“What’s curious,” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

Mr Ollivander’s silvery gaze hooked onto yours. “I remember every wand I’ve sold, Ms (L/n). Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Your throat became dry.

“Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Ms (L/n)... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great.”

Great things. 

Terrible, yes, but great. That was right.

Ollivander, in his old manly rambles and silvery light gaze, was correct. That was you — (Y/n) (L/n). The only survivor of Voldemort’s wrath, and the sole hero of the wizarding world.  It was you who bore the weight of this burden now, and you sure did hope that your shoulders were steady enough.

→ Author’s note: Hello my lovelies, thank you so much for picking up The Girl Who Lived series! 💖 (I think I’ll abbreviate it to TGWL when I write about it though hehe)!!! If you couldn’t tell, this will follow the plotline of the books but it will deliberately omit, add or change some events ;0 Hoped you somewhat liked the whiff of interaction we got between reader and Harry (verrryyy brief but there is more to come, promise!) You don’t have to read this next part but I like analysing and explaining texts so I’m kinda gonna go ham on this chapter//series Reader grew up with her foster family rather than her aunt and uncle like Harry. There was no particular reason for this, ‘specially since both families are pretty similar 😀 Though, one thing that I wanted to point out was that the Caddels aren’t supposed to be as abusive as the Dursleys. The Dursleys are cruel to Harry because they hate magic and they’re spiteful of it, because Petunia was jealous of Lily.  On the other hand, the Caddels are an ordinary, Muggle family who happen to be quite prudent and stingy. They have a small house that’s not big enough to house four people, which is why reader lives in the cupboard under the stairs. Odette and reader’s relationship is a more hostile version of a typical sibling relationship, not the social hierarchy pyramid that was Harry’s and Dudley’s.  Anyways, the point is they hold no real grudge against magic, but they aren’t fond of reader herself, hence the mocking jabs. Because of this distinct lack of hatred, not only did reader receive her letter on the first day, rather than that canon goose chase/hunt thing, but Hagrid also wasn’t as aggressive to them as he was to the Dursley’s. They don’t hate magic, nor do they hate the reader. To them, she kind of just exists This partly ties into reader’s quite arrogant and brazen personality (which I will analyse more in depth later on… no spoilers!) So yeah, the Caddels aren’t evil or abusive at heart, just a family who needs money and happens to have taken in a teenager with a bucket load of angst (which I will also tap into later ;)  (One more thing soz… but if you’re wondering why you met Harry instead of Draco in Diagon Alley like in the og books, well in the canon, Harry goes to Diagon Alley like on the 31st of July (very late). On the other hand, reader received her letter first up so they went to get the supplies on like the 1st hence her and Draco’s times don’t overlap! I chucked Harry in here because since he lives with his parents now, James would def want Harry to get his stuff ASAP to teach him random crap and Lily would want him to start studying or practising for school LOL) Series Masterlist

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I love all of you that read the prologue. I have a rough draft of chapter one here. Very rough. But I’m like oddly happy with a character choice I made and I hope I did it justice. Darlins, I love when you use the little heart button. I’ll explode of happy if y’all start leaving comments. Even if they’re just about grammatical mistakes or mischaracterizations. @zenyteehee as always you’re on my list of favorite humans. I hope my reasonings hold up to others’ scrutinizing. I think it will. But I won’t know if y’all don’t tell me. Hint hint. Nudge nudge. Not-so-subtlety-gesturing-to-the-comment-button.

Chapter One

“Oh Merlin’s left ass cheek and fucking bollocks too!” Harry cursed, loudly, mixing Wizarding and muggle swearing in an impressive tirade as the white nothingness coalesced into “fucking King’s Cross sodding goddamn Station!” He roared his frustration and flung himself onto the newly appeared bench. Burying his face in his hands he continued to mumble curses.

An enthusiastic clapping made him scramble to his feet and reach for his wand before he recognized the person standing in front of him.

“Nice one Harry! I haven’t heard some of those words put in that order before!”

“Fred?” Harry was gobsmacked.

“In the… well… not flesh I suppose… but… erm… yeah!” Fred stood in front of him, almost sheepish looking as his 20-year-old self. With a sharp pang Harry realized that George looked so much, much older now.

“What the fuck.” Harry plopped back to his bench. “I take it I died. Again.”

“Well… yeah. Mate, you got in a wrestle with a Focus. You couldn’t ~afFord~ the cost.” Fred wagged his eyebrows at his stupid joke and Harry couldn’t decide if he wanted to slap the look off his face or hug him for remaining the same old punny Fred. He groaned in response.

“So why am I at King’s Cross again. I mean, seriously, how many times do I have to die and not …” Harry waved his hands in wobbly arcs through the air. “Go. You know. Move on. Whatever.”

Fred perched on the arm rail and put his feet on the bench next to where Harry sat. He sat with his elbows on his knees and leaned forward to prop his head in his hands. He looked a bit like a gargoyle hunched on the end like that but it wasn’t as funny as it should have been. Harry was tired. If he was going to die then why couldn’t he just do it properly for once and get it over with.

“Here’s the rub.” Fred’s smiling face grew serious as he focused on Harry. “You’re the most recent Master of Death, yeah?” He made a short cutting motion with one hand when Harry opened his mouth to argue. “No, don’t interrupt. You know as well as I do that you had all three Hallows. Well, Death, they know it too. They also know that you, as Master, have to make the choice. Consciously and without doubt.”

“What choice? To die? Didn’t I do that when I turned myself over in the forest to Voldemort and let him kill me?! I had the Hallows by then. I got the bloody stone by acknowledging that I was going to die.” Harry’s face was dark and angry and his voice grew louder and louder as he spoke. “Didn’t I ~choose~ to die then? Didn’t I just choose to jump in front of that car to save those women? I knew what could happen. I did it anyway. Didn’t I choose death then? How can anyone tell me, least of all Death themself, that I haven’t chosen to fucking die?”

Fred waited patiently for Harry to finish and said calmly, “But did you?” Harry thought that if looks could kill the glare he leveled at Fred just now would have put his ghost or spirit or whatever back into the hereafter but Fred just looked back, almost sadly. “Think. When Voldemort hit you with that spell didn’t you find yourself in this very place? Didn’t you decide then that you would come back? You could have moved on then. But you didn’t. And now, did you really think through the idea that you might actually die if you and your tragic nobility leapt into the road? No. You didn’t. You can’t lie and tell me you thought that much ahead. You’re too much like a Weasley - leaping before you look. And you’re far too much a Gryffindor.” Fred grinned, but it was weak and didn’t reach his eyes. “You just thought of saving the damsels in distress.”

Harry couldn’t argue. He ~hadn’t~ thought beyond as far as whether or not he’d be fast enough to push at the girls. He acted on gut instinct and foolish lack of self awareness. He sighed.

“So I can choose again.”

“Yeah. But. You have to be aware of what you’re choosing.”

“It’s not that hard. Stay dead. Leave here and go” he made the wavy hand motion again. “Or go back to my life.”

“Not quite… you see… well, your body is pretty fucked up right now. Right mess you made of yourself. They’ve moved you to St. Mungo’s from the muggle hospital but you’re in a coma. Broken bones. Squishy inner bits trying to become squashy outer bits. Possible brain damage, though how we’d be able to tell with you - oi!” Harry had swatted at him but half heartedly. He appreciated the attempt at levity, glad in some ways that even years dead, Fred remained himself but still annoyed at the whole bloody situation. “Anyway. Yeah. It’s not much of a life at the mo. And Death has a third option. Sort of a holding pattern idea in a way. Since you’re all sorts of fucked up Death has offered you a place in the life of someone else.”

“What? Like. I would kill some one and take their place kind of thing? No way! I’d rather live in my own body and wait to wake up.”

“Well, mate, there’s no guarantee this body will wake up. Even Death doesn’t know the future. Or at least they’re playing it close to the chest if they do. But no. You wouldn’t have to kill. It’s hard to explain. Especially second hand. Honestly I don’t know why Death can’t explain it themself. You’d almost think they’re afraid of you.”

“Wouldn’t you be afraid of your ~Master~ if they showed up pissed off and confused?” Harry asked wryly.

“Ah! I bet that’s it. Death’s a scaredy robes!” Fred laughed and leaned back on the arm rail. He chuckled for a minute before sobering and continuing. “Right. Well. The way I understand it is that you’d basically take over a life that ended elsewhere.”

“Great. Like a zombie? I can see the headlines. ‘Zombie Savior Back From the Dead!’ Skeeter’d have a fabulous time spinning ~that~ one.”

“Heh. No. Not like a zombie, though I guess if you wanted to argue semantics… but no. Think if it like this. Your body is pretty well buggered but your spirit is still kicking around. Well, the other guy, his body is fine but his spirit moved on. You would inhabit that body. Death said something about keeping enough memories from the other person so you’d be know who you are now and what happened in the past but it’d be all you in control now. Your entire self including your magic and memories and skills but a different body. Until you decide to come back to your body or die all the way.”

“There’s gotta be a catch. I could just go inhabit the new body, walk up and say, ‘hey guys, it’s me, ignore the bloke in the bed there, I’m fine.’ I’d never need to -go- back to my body. I could just prove I am who I am to the right people and go on about life as if I wasn’t Harry bleeding Potter ‘the Boy Who Lived Twice.’ I could finally be anonymous.”

Fred rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. About that.” He trailed off.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake what is it?” Harry was growing irate again.

“Well, you wouldn’t be guaranteed a body in the same time frame or timeline as it were. You could come back and do as you said, yeah, but the odds are slim. You could come back in a different era. A different place. Anywhere in the past in fact. Death explained it better but the gist is… well. You know what the muggles say about the butterfly effect?”

Harry snorted. “It’s come up. Some rubbish about how a butterfly can flap its wings in New York and in Hong Kong you get rain instead of snow. It’s a quaint way of saying that every action of every thing affects the actions of everything else in infinite ways.”

“Precisely. Ok. What do you know about the multiverse theory?”

“The what now?” His head was spinning. This was confusing as fuck, made worse by it being told to him by the dead brother of his best friend.

“Multiverse. It’s the idea that for every action/non-action there’s a universe where it was the truth. In one multiverse the butterfly flaps and it rains. In another the butterfly is still and it snows. In a third the butterfly gets eaten and Hong Kong gets eaten by a giant squid. All three are true in their own slices of the multiverse. There are other realities where you died instantly as a baby. Where you stayed dead in the Forbidden Forest. Where you were too late to save the ladies and they died but you lived. It all exists in its own little slice.”

“What’s this multiverse got to do with me? If every choice I make now will become its own reality, what does it possibly matter what I pick? This is mind-bogglingly confusing.” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.

“That’s what I said,” Fred was gentle, calm and he leaned forward to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It boils down to this. We don’t know when, who, or where you’ll end up if you choose to live another life while waiting to see how your current physical situation plays out. We do know it’ll be in the past and we do know it won’t affect the future as you exist and know it because it’ll be in a different slice of the multiverse where you being there already happened. It’s time travel without worrying about erasing yourself from existence essentially because that’s probably already happened elsewhere in another slice. So I guess the catch is you could end up in a slice of muggle reality where you’re being chased by a dingosawer.” Fred grinned and shook Harry’s shoulder as he finished.

“Dinosaur. And humans didn’t exist at the same time as they did.” Harry muttered dully.

His head hurt. Not knowing when or where he’d end up was a terrifying concept. Fred had said he’d keep his magic and his skills, so he wouldn’t be at as great a disadvantage as he could be in any given situation but what if …

“What if Death puts me in the body of a newborn? Would I be the world’s smartest infant even if I couldn’t focus my eyes or lift my own head? What if I wake up as this person in the middle of some conflict and just get killed again in a few hours or days? Would I come back here, again? What if -“

“Harry, I have it on pretty good authority that should you choose this option you won’t be placed in such predicament. You’ll be roughly the right age, in no immediate danger, and probably still male.” Fred wagged his eyebrows. “Though if you ended up a 23 year old girl I can’t say it’d be too bad would it.”

“Can I see what … what’s going on with me in the current world?”

“It’d probably help you decide, yeah?” Fred slid down off the arm rest and sat on the bench proper. He waved his arm in front of them in a large sweeping gesture and an image appeared in front of them, almost like watching a telly.

Harry could see the whole of the hospital room. The body in the bed looked small and broken in the white linens, the monitoring charms hovering above showing a slow heartbeat and low blood pressure among other lines and numbers he didn’t comprehend. Next to the bed in an old wooden chair sat Hermione. Her eyes flicked from monitor to Harry once in a while but mostly she sat gazing into a middle distance lost in her thoughts. Behind her, Ginny slept in another wooden chair, looking worn and uncomfortable. Harry focused on the other side of the room where a tall, lean, white-blonde haired man stood taking notes and checking potions.

“Malfoy.” Harry whispered. “I forgot he’d become a healer. One of the best too I was told. He must have had a field day with this…” but as he watched Draco finished his note and quietly crossed to where Hermione sat. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and she didn’t startle.

“Hermione,” Draco’s adult voice was deeper, duskier. “You should go get some rest. We’re doing everything we can and you know you’ll be the first to know if anything changes.”

Hermione reached up and squeezed his hand where it lay. “I know Draco. It’s just… it’s just not easy, you know? He survived so much already and I feel like we’ve seen him come back from the edge so many times that this… a bloody drink-driver of all things!” Her voice grew louder as she spoke. “Harry faced dragons at 14! A basilisk at 12! Lord Fucking Voldemort as a baby!” She was shouting now and Ginny had startled awake and come to put her hand on Hermione’s other shoulder.

Harry’s heart hurt. She didn’t swear often and it was almost always because of him that she did.

Ginny shared a look and a nod with Draco. “C’mon ‘Mione. Let’s go get some tea. Mum’ll be down soon and Malfoy said he’ll contact us.” She pulled a now sobbing Hermione to her feet, and, sharing one last sad glance with Draco, she led her crying friend out. The visual faded as Draco put Hermione’s chair back against the wall and then he too exited the room.

Tears were hot on Harry’s face. “I’m not ready to be dead yet. Are you sure that going back to my own body won’t just, like, jumpstart me and let me wake up?” Fred shook his head no. He didn’t want to leave his friends like that. He wanted to live. But he really didn’t want to be the broken person in the bed either. Third option it was then.

“Fine. Let’s get this multiverse thing started. If I have to wait then I may as well be living while I do it.”

“You’re sure? You made your choice?” Fred was watching him carefully.

“I have.” He stared back at Fred for a long second before blinking.

When he opened his eyes the next instant Fred, and King’s Cross were gone.