#losing it over the way he said “mr owl”

[adhd-merlin]

I think colin should have curly hair in every role in perpetuity

[nightsmarish]

Summary: after talking to Regulus, you both decide to take the offer to stay with the Potters, and barty gets thrown across the slytherin table by Evan

Pt1

A/n: very focused on Reg for some reason, not 100% sure why, but it's lovely, also we love bestie barty. ALSO ALSO, reader is aggressively, very aggressively, hinted to be slytherin

Poly!moonwater x reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.4k words

Tw: toxic family, running away? Family disappointment, ect. Barty jinxing Gryffindors for sport and an owl flying into a chess game

Asked to be tagged: @misacc08

★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊

It's finally two weeks until the end of this year at Hogwarts. Class times have been filled with going over study guides and reviewing for the final exams only a few days away. 

Neither you nor Regulus have said yes to staying at Potter Manor this summer. Despite James being very adamant about it.

“I’ll just mention you blokes might be joining us.” James told you when you visited Gryffindor table one morning, as he wrote his parents. 

“James-” 

“No, no, let ‘im. No harm in it? Is there?” Sirius cuts you off, feet extended to rest on the bench across the table from him. 

“But Mrs. Potter shouldn’t prepare an extra room if neither of us will be joining.” Your points are acknowledged when James hums to confirm he heard you, but his quill never stops moving.

Remus has been looking at you the whole time. Not in a creepy way, you're both pretty sure not in a creepy way at least. Just in an undivided attention way. Practically ignoring the other two boys to admire you, other than when he occasionally slaps away Sirius’ hand on his fifth attempt to grab Remus’ food. 

You look down to where Remus sits as well. Honestly, he's not that much shorter than you sitting down, but wherever. Your hand that's not holding the strap of your bag gently scratched the hair at the base of his head before kissing his cheek, mumbling a small promise to see him during your study time later. 

ᯓ★

It's not like you don’t want to go to stay with everyone else. It’d be amazing; it really would. But the idea of going when Regulus stays at the Black House feels wrong. You know being with your parents won’t help him, nor will being at James’ house, but it feels wrong. 

Remembering how destroyed he was when Sirius left. When he came back to school, you two hadn’t known the Marauders like you do now. The anger he knew was misplaced, but he couldn’t help but feel abandoned by Sirius. You remember it—the crying, the way he couldn’t focus until a month into school. And you remember Sirius being disowned.

And maybe that's part of it too. The idea of being disowned. Even if you know they are horrible people, people you don’t wish to be related to. The idea still makes you sick. Their horrible and evil, but dear Salazar, parent approval is so addicting and you hate how much you still want it. 

So which is worse, feeling like you betrayed one of your boyfriends, or your parents disapproval? 

“Regulus?” You keep your voice low in the library. The aforementioned boy looks up from his textbook sitting across from you. Remus, next to you, pauses, moving his quill to focus on you two as well.

“Yes?” His voice matches yours, despite being a little more stiff. 

“I wanna talk about it again. About James’ house.” You rush the words out. Probably because you know Regulus will want to shoot it down immediately.

“Love, you know I’m not going.” He sighs, sitting up straight in his seat. 

“Why? Why not go?” 

"Dove-" Remus tries to interject, not sure how well direct confrontation will go after Regulus has already denied it far too many times.

“What would I do?”

Both you and Remus pause, looking right at Regulus. Who stares right back at you.

“What do you mean?’ Remus says what you think.

“I leave, I get disowned, I lose the family fortune.” There are unspoken words there; everyone knows. He loses the Black name, he loses the reputation, and he loses everything he ever knew. Sirius had always wanted to leave; he had dreamed about it long before the possibility ever even crossed Regulus’ mind. The older Black had an idea of what would happen long before he left. Regulus hasn't gotten that right. 

“We can figure it out when we get there, love.” Remus rests his quill in the small ink pot, reaching both his hands to cup Regulus’ hands between his own. 

All three of you stay silent for a second, Regulus looking down at Remus’ hand covering his own, you staring at Regulus, and Remus looking between the two of you, trying to figure out what to do. 

"If..." you sigh, shifting in your seat, “if... you go... I’ll go, and we can figure it out together.” 

Gray eyes shoot up to yours. “Are you serious?” His voice is unsure, like you're going to take your offer back for no apparent reason. 

“Yeah. I’m scared too, but I don't think I can bring myself to go back, not this time. But at the same time, I won’t be okay with going if you don’t go.”

Remus takes a deep breath, one hand still holding the younger boy's hand, other moving so his arm wraps around your shoulder, gently rubbing your upper arm. “So, it's settled. I can tell James.” 

“Thank you,” You whisper, and Regulus takes one of his hands from the lycan to intertwine your fingers. 

ᯓ★

The letter felt wrong to write. Less than a week before you're off to Potter Manor is when you get a response.

You're sitting at the Slytherin table in the morning when the letter holding their response arrives. Your owl landing smoothly, unlike the poor Hufflepuff owl you see sly head first into a game of Wizard Chess.

The seal of the letter belongs to your family, and it's painfully obvious. Regulus had gotten his response within a few days. Hurtful and harsh, despite never reading it yourself.

Looking around, Regulus is watching Barty, who is sitting on the long table rather than at it, cast small, mostly-hopefully harmless jinxs on a few older Gryffindors who haven't seemed to notice who's doing it. While Evan is whispering more and more jinxs for Barty to use.

Deciding that you might as well get it over with, you break the wax seal. The letter was nothing but vile, as you expected, the threats, the anger, the disappointment. Yet, you are honestly relieved. Like a huge, bolder is off your back. Sisyphus would envy you.

"And what do you have? A secret admirer? Are you planning on finally leaving the wild beasts you call boyfriends?"

Barty turns his attention to you as you finish reading, snatching the letter to inspect it.

"Ew, is that from your parents?" Evans nose scrunches up, noticing the names signed at the bottom of the parchment when he leans over Bartys shoulder.

"Yeah, I wrote them last week that I'd be staying with the Potters this summer, and they finally got back to me." Your voice remains surprisingly even, despite feeling somewhere between calm and like you're going to vomit, cry, and punch a wall.

Evan and Barty continue to scrutinize the letter, the phrasing, and how your mother writes the letter S weird. While Regulus leans closer to you.

"Everything okay?" His quite, a stark contrast two the boys sitting acorsd from you as Barty pushes his boyfriend off the seat for something or another and Evan kicks a little too close to Bartys dick.

"Yeah, it'll be okay." You hum, scooting closer to the pale boy, "would you and Remus want to come stay at my dorm tonight? At least for a little? Serenella and Iris are both going to be out all night."

"Of course, love. I'll grab Remus after charms and we can meet you there before dinner?" A soft kiss is placed on the top of your head when he finishes his sentence.

"That sounds good."

The peace of the situation is cut off by Barty falling off the table towards you, taking you down to the floor with him.

"God damnit Barty!" A smile far to big for the situation paints your face face.

"Evan threw me, gem! He tried to kill me! I'm wounded." Barty sits half on hus knees, half laid out on the gross Hogwarts in such a pathetic manor Regulus chuckles under his breath.

"And I'll do it again idiot!" Evan sits back on his spot at the long table. Huffing while smoothing out his hair and uniform.

"Oh God, gem, I won't make it." Barty throws himself onto you, your back to the ground as you laugh. "If I die will you leave your loser boyfriends to join me and Evan?"

"Okay, junior, that's enough." Remus appears in your vision, slightly nudging Bartys side, like touching him too long will make whatever is sodding wrong with the boy rub off on him.

"Hello, big boy." Barty stands up and takes you with him, dusting off his and your clothes. "You know, both of you could leave Regulus and-"

"Okay Barty!" Regulus pushes Barty to sit back down, shutting him up as he begins to bicker with Regulus next.

[escapetothelake]

Harvey and mr bat for the ship asks? :D (you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable)

ooh this is so silly!! thank you for giving me something to chew on >:) btw i will do any ship people throw at me, even if i don't like it (as long as i can reasonably write for it & it doesn't involve minors)

mr. bat and harvey have few spoken lines, so pls forgive me if my characterization doesn't align with urs. i also made them a little toxic 😐 if you want a healthy relationship portrayal, please specify!! hopefully this is still enjoyable though heehee

i'm going to try to keep this contained to rusty lake: hotel as that is the game in which they interact. also i’m using he/him for harvey

who made the first move: mr. bat was immediately aloof with harvey when the latter first got the job at the hotel. harvey was content with ignoring him, until he realized that he hated the feeling of being disliked so much. he made a point to talk to mr. bat everyday when he went to visit mr. owl, which mr. bat was not receptive to. then harvey thought to bring him food, thinking he would likely be hungry and tired after being on his feet all day. mr. bat took it wordlessly, but his eyes would flit back and forth between harvey and the snack as he ate. from them on, he gradually started to become more open and even friendly to harvey—especially when the bird had food.

who kissed who first: i’m trying to figure out the logistics of this lol. i could see mr. bat kissing harvey for bringing him something exceptionally tasty. later in this post i headcanon that harvey bathes to wash the blood off, and that when he doesn’t have immediate access to hot water, mr. bat becomes his co-conspirator. perhaps harvey is panicking because it doesn’t seem the water will be fixed for a while, and mr. bat sees this, and begins to apprehensively lick the blood off harvey’s feathers. then they’re both like 😳😳

who started the relationship: it kinda just. happened. and while harvey is jealous, mr. bat is possessive. he wanted things to be exclusive, and harvey agreed.

who remembers things: when one of them remembers something, the other usually doesn’t.

nicknames for each other: admittedly, i’m a little floored on this one lol. i think mr. bat would call harvey “dear”, and harvey would call mr. bat “my moth”.

who is more likely to pay for dinner: harvey all the way.

who normally cooks: another cop-out here, but mr. toad. harvey supplies food though (😉)—as he kind of serves as mr. owl’s errand boy—and mr. bat occasionally enjoys hunting for his own food. harvey doesn’t like flying insects all that much though.

who remembers anniversaries: mr. bat EXPECTS harvey to remember anniversaries. with all the stress he’s under, however, he doesn’t always.

what would they get each other for gifts: you know those lollipops with insects and scorpions and stuff in them? yeah, mr. bat loves those. he literally shrieks with delight when he gets one. harvey also once gave him an amber necklace with a moth inside, and mr. bat periodically gnaws/sucks on it like a teething necklace. mr. bat isn't really a gift-giver (he wants princess treatment 💅), but he likes hunting for insects and then dropping them in front of harvey like a dog with a rat it caught for you.

most trivial thing they fight over: literally anything lmao. these two fight like cats and dogs, and i will die on this hill. food is the most common topic; sure, harvey is a foodie, but doesn’t understand how mr. bat can place that much importance on it. sometimes, it’s like mr. bat cares more about food than harvey (who, as i said, gets jealous pretty easily. you’d think he would have learned to detach after all those years).

how often do they fight: all the time. so often. they are lowkey toxic 😳 mr. owl can expect to be woken up by some sort of petty squabble. it's not good for 'business', so he tells them to knock it off or lose their jobs.

who uses all the hot water: harvey—how else is he gonna wash all that blood off?

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: harvey panics when the heat isn’t working because it means that he can’t clean the blood off of himself. it’s actually how he and mr. bat ended up getting closer—harvey resorted to calling mr. bat for assistance, and he got it fixed for him. so in a way, mr. bat is his partner in crime :) the couple that slays together stays together

who leaves their stuff around: mr. bat has few material possessions, but what he does have, he hoards (particularly food). actually, harvey touching mr. bat’s stuff is another thing they used to fight over in the beginning of the relationship. harvey sometimes leaves bloody garments around, which mr. bat scolds him for. he won’t admit it, but he finds it a little endearing.

who remembers to buy the milk: mr. bat would remember that they need milk. he expects harvey to get it though. of course, it’s readily available in the kitchen of the hotel.

who controls the netflix queue: mr. bat NEEDS his netflix after a long day. DO NOT mess with his netflix queue 😡😡😡

who steals the covers at night: this isn’t really an issue! mr. bat sleeps on the ceiling, so if harvey wishes to use blankets, he has them all to himself. though it seems like he can easily change into his anthropomorphic form, so he sometimes does that and sleeps perched by the window. (side note ooh what if bird!harvey slept in a cage in mr. owl’s room)

who cusses more: mr. bat screeches, if that counts. sometimes their “shouting matches” are just mutual screeching in a sort of display of dominance. it drives mr. owl bananas 🍌 🍌

who does most of the cleaning: the hotel has waitstaff. harvey is responsible for cleaning up after himself (iykyk), but mr. bat has found that he enjoys helping out.

what’s their favorite non-sexual activity: i think that, as much as it annoys harvey, they both secretly enjoy arguing. beyond that, they like spending time together during the late hours. it’s after harvey has completed his kills and work hours are over that they can find solace with each other. they are at their calmest when mr. bat has a snack in hand, and harvey his favorite music playing without any stress.

who’s the cuddler: lowkey mr. bat, though harvey likes the attention.

who’s the big spoon/little spoon: mr. bat leans his head on harvey’s shoulder or chest, and harvey puts his head on top of his.

who’s more dominant: mr. bat is kind of a brat 😳 sometimes he winds harvey up so much that he just… snaps 😏

who is the dirty talker: mr. owl, scolding them for being bothersome to the guests again 😆 in reality, i think they see squabbling as dirty talk

what do they do when they’re away from each other: mr. bat has separation anxiety (not that he would admit it). harvey often has to leave to run errands for mr. owl, so it’s not uncommon that they’re apart. harvey tells himself he’ll enjoy finally getting some peace and quiet, but he starts to miss his partner after a little while. mr. bat catches up on sleep and pretends to be unbothered, but his job gets boring and he often finds himself thinking about harvey.

what would they do if the other one was hurt: i think they would both freak out, but they’re also mutually self-centered. for instance, if one of them has an incapacitating sickness that the other could catch, then the healthy one would likely consider that for a while before going to visit them. one time, though, mr. bat got sick with a flu, and harvey brought him stew that he’d made for him. of course, harvey spent too much time with mr. bat, and he caught the flu too. he was a little annoyed, but when a healthy mr. bat brought him moth soup that he’d made, harvey couldn’t stay mad, even if he doesn’t like moths all that much :) (for once, they would NOT let mr. toad cook—they wanted to make it themselves :))

a headcanon: after harvey fled the hotel upon being attacked by the corrupted souls, he didn’t return for a while, which upset and worried mr. bat, but he continued to do his job as usual. eventually, mr. owl relocated him to the cave, where he could stay more comfortably after his service, but be called back as needed. mr. owl tipped off harvey to mr. bat’s location, and they were reunited again. now, they don’t interact as much as they did while working the hotel, but they’re still co-workers with a little something extra :)

[small-sinclair]

I Promise I'll Always Love Ya

A continuation for Take Me Instead. This IS NOT the final part. Please read that before reading this to catch up on what's going on :3

This au is inspired by @ahmnom; check out their art!

Welcomed readers: @lhhsol, @phantomcat394, @nameisrojda (thanks for giving me this idea), @akiranamio, @fluffy-little-demon, @sketchy-rosewitch, @zaras-really-dreamless

Told by Bo's POV

dad!Bo Sinclair x fem!y/n (y'all are married)

Tw: Reader's in the hospital, starting off with angsty right away, religion mentioned, past near death experiences, strong words, reader flat lines, Bo gets sedated

Enjoy! (sorry not sorry for this angst)

That night, Bo didn't sleep, and he swore never left her side. He was scared that he would lose y/n if he turned away just for water or to blink. As night fell over the hospital, some nurses were changing shifts so the night owls took over. Nurse Macy, even though she was supposed to be off, didn't live the delivery wing until Dr. Henrik told her to, and he tried to tell Bo the same thing.

"Ya'll have to kill me," Bo answered, his eyes tired and drain. He didn't eat anything all day, missing breakfast to get extra cuddle time with his wife and kids. He didn't know what went wrong? Did he hug her too tight to make her here in the hospital with their child on a breathing box? Was this his fault?

"Excuse me?"

Bo's blue eyes, drained but still dangerous, glared at the doctor. "I said ya'll have to kill me. If ya wan' me out, then ya'll hav' ta shoot me." he looked back at his wife and brushed her hair back. "Ain't leavin' my girls."

Dr. henrik let out a deep breath. "It's hospital rules--"

"Fuck the rules," Bo snapped. "An' fuck you, too, if ya thin' yer goin' to drag me outta 'er."

Nurse Macy placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder and pulled him back gently. She's dealt with a father like this before; her own son acted the same when his wife was in Mrs. Sinclair's shoes. She stepped forward and sat on the chair next to Bo.

He was kneeling by his wife the whole day, his grandmother's rosary behind her and his hand. The amount of prayers and pleads he sent up was enough to make his voice horsed and strained. He rain out of tears to shed for awhile, but when he heard her heart monitor drop dangerously low, he started crying again. He felt helpless and broken, and he hated this feeling. As long as he lives, he never wants to feel this way. But his prayers never stopped. He hasn't prayed this hard since Lester's truck flipped into the ditch during a Louisiana storm.

He was in the ICU for two days, flat-lining for the first night. Bo wanted to forget how his brother struggled to breath, to say away in his arms as the EMS came to the country road. It was all over some tourist that almost got away, but Vincent took care of them so fast before any flashing lights came. As he waited, he held his brother tightly as he could without hurting him even more, glass cutting into his legs and knees. Bo thought promising his little brother that if he lives he'll do better, be a better big brother for him, to promise to be the best and not be like his father...

"'M tired, Bo," he breathed, his eyes slightly parted. Rain dripped off Bo's curls and hit his face. "'M really tired."

"Stay awake," Bo encrouged as he looked down at his brother. He cradled him in his lap. "I-I promise I'll be betta--"

"'M sorry..." Lester was struggling now. The glass and blood and pain; it was all too much. "... I fail-failed ya."

"Ya didn't fail!"

"Bo?" Lester looked up at the rain filled skied as he breathed out in a sigh, "Do ya believe heaven'll le' me in?"

Lester died in his arms for the first time, and Bo nearly lost it. He doesn't admit to his fears or show it, but his worst fear came through: losing his family, his brothers.

Bo will never forgot how easy Lester's ribs broke as he did CPR in the flashing blue and red lights, the driver running towards Bo while the other got the AFIB from the back. They took over for Bo as police came to pull him away, Vincent taking Bo into his arms to hold him back. When the stretcher came out to put him in the back, Bo went with them, holding Lester's hand as he laid so close to death. Him dying again in the truck then coming back again showed that he was fighting, but Bo knew he was tired... so tied...

Now, Bo feels like he's living that same stormy night again, but it's with his wife and new born daughter. He hated how he couldn't save them from this pain, and he hated how he couldn't take that doctor out back and beat the shit out of him.

"Mr. Sinclair?" Nurse Macy's voice wasn't above a whisper, but it was enough for him to look over his shoulder at her. "How about we take a break?"

"Can't," he breathed, eyes tired. "Won't leave 'em."

"I didn't say anything ;bout leavin, sugar," she said, offering a sad smile. "My husband is waiting for me at the front desk, and I asked if you could come with us to dinner at the Calbur's." She looked back at his wife then at his daughter behind them. "My friends, Jackie and Coby, will be the ones to take over."

"Don't wan' men 'round 'em."

"Jackie's not a man," she reassured. "She's a mother of five. Coby is the only male, but he's, well," she made a face, "fruity... if you know what I mean."

Bo relaxed a little. He felt better if... no, wait. No.

He shakes his head. "Can't leave 'er." He looked back at his wife and squeezed her hand. "Can't live without her."

"Then let her rest," Nurse Macy insisted. "What would she want you to do?"

He clinched his teeth too hard but he left out a shaky breath. "She-she would wan' me ta make sure our kids were safe an' feed."

"And what about yourself?" She hummed.

"Y/n would wan' me to eat." He didn't know why he sounded defeated when he looked back at the old nurse then back at y/n. "She'll be mad."

"That's right," Macy agreed, but she didn't sound mean. She was speaking to him as if he was her own son, and it made him feel comfortable and safe. His mama never talked to him like this. "So, how about you come with me, we get food, and drop you off? Sound like a plan?" He didn't realize that she wasn't from the south... huh. "Afterwards, I'll be back in the morning to take over again."

Bo looked back at his daughter, who was sleeping soundly, then back at his wife. She looked so peaceful and still, her chest rising and falling ever so gently under the covers. Bo swallowed dryly and stood up. His knees were numb and sore from kneeling all day, but he didn't seem to care at this point. If he stood the whole day by her side, his knees would still feel the same. He felt weak, powerless, and he hated it. he brushed her heair back and bent down, kissing her forehead sweetly.

"Be back as soon as I c'n," he whispered by her ear. "Won't be long... I promise, darlin'." He kisses close to her ear to seal it.

Bo closed his eyes before leaving the room, whispering, "Lord, don't take 'em while I'm gone. Don't do it."

*******************

Just like Macy promised, Bo was right back in the hospital, but he had something else in his pocket: a pack of Reds and a green lighter. He needed a hit, something to take the stress away. he stood outside the hospital as he smoked his first cigarette in 15 months, feeling guilty that he broke his promise to y/n of smoking. He promised that once this was all over, he'll go back to quitting again. He needed good-enough lungs if he wanted to play catch with his sons and run after them. If the twins were anything like him and Vincent, they'll be running all over the place. Jasmine, his oldest, didn't run as much, but she's still curious of the outside.

He put the cigarette out in the smoking bin and went inside towards her room. Bo could feel a thunderstorm coming, and he wanted his daughter to feel safe in the room, to know that he wasn't going to let the monsters or demons get her. He'll kill everything first before that happens. But Bo wanted y/n the most. He just wanted to feel his wife in his arms again, to hear her laugh at him for being like this and to be mad that he smoked a cigarette. He wanted to hear her scold him for breaking his promise.

But he was greeted by a familiar face sitting next to her bed, holding his hand, and his body tensed. Why was Vincent here? Why was he hear with her and not with his daughter?

"Hell ya doin'?" Bo asked, his eyes looking between him and her hand. "Le' go an' head home."

Vincent shook his head, and that's when Bo noticed that he wasn't wearing his mask, his face. His free hand lifted, signing, 'You should not be alone.'

"Wha' 'bout my kid?" He took a step closer, ready to hit his brother if he answered wrong.

'Lester is at the house in Ambrose.' Vincent's brow fell as he looked down at y/n. His thumb circled over her knuckles. Vincent didn't say it but he's scared. Terrified. What will happen if he ever lost her? 'Has she waken up?'

As much as Bo didn't want to have this talk, he found himself sitting on the bed, careful not to crush her legs. Bo rested his hand over her knee, giving it a slight squeeze. "Hasn't moved or nothin'." Then he looked over at his daughter. "She's made plenty of noise," the he chuckles, saying, "Reckon she'll be a screamer."

'Oh, no,' Vincent's shoulders fell and playfully signed, 'Not another screamer.' He gave a smile when he heard the baby fuss. 'But she is cute.'

"Cutest thin' ever seen," Bo added. A thought crossed his mind, and he liked the idea. He stood up and went to the sink. He washed his hands good and through, dried, and went to his daughter's crib. She was awake, her little arms wiggling in the cotton candy pink like a cat's tail, when he picked her up. He's been so worried that he hasn't held his daughter yet! He felt like the biggest jerk. "Hey there, little sunshine."

Her eyes melted his heart. Her right eye was a shiny ocean blue, like his, and it was so bright and filled with sparkles. Her left eyes was the brightest pine tree green he's ever seen, and it chest caved in as he looked down at her. "Oh, sweet pea," he breathed as he held her over her bed, careful not to move the wires or her oxygen. "You are so beautiful."

His eyes looked up to see his wife and his soul crushed. "Wish your mama would wake," Bo hummed. "Miss her like heck." He's not going to cuss while he holds his daughter. "But 'm happy I hav' ya, sweet pea." He takes a deep breath as his eyes meet Vincent, who was trying to get a glance of the child. Bo smirked and looked back down at his daughter. "Would ya like to meet yer uncle, Vincent?"

As soon as he mentioned Vincent's name, his brother was standing on the other side of the crib, ready to look down at the baby. If she's like her siblings, she would cry at the sight of his face. All three of them cried when they first aw Vincent, but her bright eyes looked upon him without fear. Instead, her little hands reached up and grasped his hair. She cooed happily, earning a smile from both twins. How could she looked at him without fear?

Vincent didn't tough her; Bo has to tell him that it's okay. "Look at that," Bo hummed, joy filling his eyes. "Seems like she likes ya, Vinny." Vincent nodded in agreement. "Must think yer handsome or somethin'."

"... I think he's handsome."

Their eyes shot up at the new voice, and Bo could cry. He laid his daughter down gently and hurried towards y/n's side. Her eyes were glazed and tired, and Bo knew she was trying to say awake long enough.

"Y/n!" Bo was overfilled with joy as he sat on the bed close to her, leaning down to kiss all over her face and cheeks. "Darlin, yer okay!" He held her face and rested his head against her forehead. "You're okay."

A weak hand reached up and cupped his cheek, and Bo held it there. He leaned into her touch and left hurried kisses along her palm and wrist, kissing up her arm and down again.

Y/n chuckled. "Breathe for me, baby," she whispered. "Deep breaths."

"Shh, shh, honeycomb," he whispered against her skin. "Don't talk. Please--"

"'M tired, Bo," she whispers. From Behind, Vincent eye looked up at the heart monitor. He looked at Bo then back at the machine. He started towards the door to find a nurse. "I'm really tired."

"I know, doll," whispers Bo, brushing her hair back. "I know 'at." He didn't realize that he was shaking. "But I need ya to stay awake."

Her head turns to the crib, a soft smile forming. She wanted to stay long enough to hold her child, but the pain was getting too much all at once. "Take care of them?"

"Don't say that--"

"I love you, Beauregard Sinclair," she breathed out, two nurses coming in the room as Vincent's hands wildly signed for help. "I love you..."

When a relaxed sigh escaped her lips, thunder broke and rain pattered against the wind. Glass might as well exploded on his face when he heard her heart monitor ringing loudly.

"No," he whispers as he felt Vincent pull him away from the bed. "No. No, no, no, no!" He's stronger than Vincent, and Vincent knows this as his grip became deathly hard annd fast as he dragged his brother out of the room. "No! Y/n, don't go! Don't go!" He didn't mean to scream her name as Vincent dragged him away, far enough for two doctors to rush in. "Don't go!" He pushed on his brother's arms. "Let me go! Let me go, Vincent!"

"No," Vincent answered, his voice raspy. "Can't do that."

"She-she needs me!" He shouted, trying like hell to be free. He wanted to run back in there and start her heart himself. He wanted to rip out his own just for hers to beat again. "I-I need her! I need her, God!" Soon, two night shift guards came to Vincent's aid to hold him back. "Let me go, now! Vincent, let me go!" He looked as the scene unfolded, his heart breaking as they wheeled out her of the room and hurried towards a surgery room. Bo wanted to kill. He wanted to taste everyone's blood on his hands, rip out their hearts and throw them away. He wanted blood. He wanted to kill God. he wanted y/n.

He felt like he was losing Lester all over again.

Bo was lowered to the ground as something pricked his neck, warm liquid shooting throughout his body. Sleepiness took over as Vincent hushed him in his arms. He held on to his brother tightly, crying in Bo's hair. Both felt their worlds falling apart over y/n, and who could blame them? She was the world to them and more. She made Ambrose better and showed them what it's like to love and to be loved.

"Don't take her, God," Bo breathed, looking up at the white ceiling. "Don't take y/n! She's mine. She ain't yours! Y/n's mine." He cried as he felt his eyes starting to close, and he begged, "Fuckin' take me! Take me instead! Take me... bastard, take me..."

Thunder rumbled over the hospital as it began to pour. Louisiana never sounded so silent before.

[allamericanb-tch]

goblet of fire thoughts !!!

(my first watch as a marauders fan. spoilers obviously.)

writing my thoughts down bc i’m a Talker during movies and my family is not watching with me

barty <3 i’m trying not to lose it rn

this is the skin of a killer bella (i’ve never seen twilight)

lucius’ hair is so luscious

morsmordre is the coolest word ever idec

oooohhh cho chang (i hate her name so much fuck jkr)

isn’t it funny that ron has a crush on fleur and then she married ron’s brother

fred and george my pookies

eeeee moody (barty)

this is an age line 🤓

krumione is so funny to me

lowk do not like ron in this movie

HARRYDIDYOUPUTYOURNAMEINTHEGOBLETOFFIRE

rita! if only this movie had quillkiller

knowing exactly what size a broom cupboard is is important for future writings

“my eyes aren’t glistening with the ghosts of my past”

sirius!!!!!

neville <3

i’m not an owl 🦉🤓😠

ron is so sirius 

i’m a draco girl im so sorry i can’t help myself he’s so fine

moody (barty) is so real i love him 

i never realized how far away the quidditch pitch is from hogwarts

trying to figure out how im gonna write this in the context of the marauders

krum is so

when dumbledore calls barty crouch sr ‘barty’ it messes with me so much

these mini dragons are so cutie

the way harry just destroyed part of the castle

brb memorizing the gryffindor common room layout

harry smiling at cho and then the pumpkin juice falls out of his mouth 😭😭😭

RON’S DRESS ROBES

love ginny

mcgonagall teaching dance lessons

fred and george are so sirius and james

i love neville so much i would happily go to the yule ball with him

ew snape boooo 🍅

harry 😭

RON 😭😭😭 “you know how i like it when they walk”

padma and pavarti’s outfits EAT

guys i know hermione’s dress in the book is blue but in the movie it HAS to be pink ok

MRS NORRIS HAS RED EYES?!

i used to have a crush on moaning myrtle

love neville

harry turning into a little half mermaid

my dad just walked in and said “that’s the dream” (turning into a half mermaid when you swim)

harry is so james for trying to save everyone

fred and george calling harry “moral fiber”

barty crouch sr and moody (barty) 😧

THE TRIAL SCENE AHHHH

“evan rosier is dead” 💔

rip frank and alice

“give me a wretched name! BARTY CROUCH…… junior”

barty is so fine ahhhhhh

the way he just flicks his tongue 😭

barty and sirius would’ve been best friends in azkaban

cassandra but it’s harry about his dreams

oh no this is the part where cedric dies

this movie reminds me of the cursed child because of That One Part

“periculum” red sparks remember that

“kill the spare” 💔

rip robert pattinson you will be missed

voldemort’s fetus body getting thrown in the cauldron 😭

why did they have to make wormtail so ugly like

tom riddle was a hottie why’d he have to turn into a snake man

brooo put your dogs away

voldy’s manicure eats lowkey

i forget how small the dark mark is on their arm

death eater outfits are so funky

lucius 😧

lily mention 💔

“i can touch you know” voldy he’s 14

ooooo duel

james ☹️ 

lily ☹️

his eyes really are glistening with the ghosts of his past

“i don’t think i said anything about a graveyard professor”

the trunk is cool

moody (barty) turning to barty We Are So Back

he’s so babygirl

the way barty just escaped azkaban and no one noticed 😭

you can tell dumbledore isn’t straight because he stands like [see picture below]

and it’s over 

[llliiinnnaaa]

Reprisal | Chapter Nineteen

coriolanus snow x gaul oc

Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.

Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.

***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.

Thank you for reading, I hope you like it!

     Livia Snow watches solemnly as her husband hands off his bag to Philo, his blue eyes meeting hers once they’re left alone in her bedroom at her mother’s house. 

Sitting up on the plush mattress, legs crossed underneath her, fingers nervously wringing at the floral comforter. . . 

“It will only be for a little over a week, Darling.” He assures her, hands in his pockets as he slowly steps closer to her. “I’ll be back before you know it.” It’s added with his finger tips grazing her chin, a sweet smile spreading across his lips. 

Her face is more painful today, bruised more than it was the night of the incident. 

He wants to wince each time she has to move her mouth, knowing she’s in pain. 

Livia doesn’t try to speak, just as she hadn’t the last three days since losing so many teeth. 

So, she nods. 

Kissing the top of her hair while reminding her, “I love you,” he leans down and kisses her pregnant stomach, “Goodbye, dear.” 

Again, she nods, not wanting to try to speak. 

Not wanting him to see how horrid she looks now when she speaks. 

Truth be told she doesn’t mind not speaking to him at the moment, anyway. 

Frustrated and hurt that he would leave her side now of all times. 

She tries not to let it hurt her feelings or bother her too badly as he shuts the door behind as while he goes, a few stray tears trickle down her swollen cheek. 

     Philo and Snow arrive at the train station after Tawny, her father already handing her bags off to the luggage attendant as the two men step onto the platform. 

Snow grows frigid when unwanted memories slip through the seams of his mind, his lip threatening to curl with its intrusion. 

“You have everything you need, right?” Tiberius asks his daughter, clearly worried senseless about her traveling to the Districts. 

“Yes, I do.” She tells him, a small smile coming to her lips before she’s hugging him tightly. “I’ll be perfectly fine, dad. We’ll have security at each stop, and we won’t be mixed with the public at all. These are merely discussions with Mayors and whatnot.” It does little to ease his concern, but he nods, kissing her cheek. 

“I love you,” he says, next, to which she replies, “I love you, too. I’ll see you in a week.” 

“See you in a week.” He mumbles as she and Philo head toward the train cart, leaving Snow and Tiberius. “Keep an eye on her.” He adds to him. “They have yet to release Dr. Pinnacle. She’s getting more and more frantic over it as the days pass. . .I took her cigarettes out of her bag but I’m sure she has more somewhere. If you see her with one please take it. She’s been smoking quite a bit more recently, and was coughing and hacking yesterday morning.” He continues, his words bringing a slight furrow to Snow’s brows. “My father died with a tumor the size of a grapefruit in his lungs. Volumnia said it was more than likely because he smoked so much. . .me and Mini have lost so much already between our boys and our granddaughter. . .if anything were to happen to our Tawny Owl, they’d have to put us down like mad dogs.” Tiberius explains, honestly.  

Snow nods, assuring him, “I’ll take care of her, sir.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Snow.” He pats his shoulder, turning to go, but stops himself to say, “I appreciate what you said at that debate. So many people suffered just as much here as we were in the Districts. Thank you for reminding certain people of that.” 

Snow accepts his compliment from someone he actually respects, saying, “I’m glad I could do so, sir.” 

With one last smile and nod from Tiberius, he’s leaving the platform. 

Snow enters the rather lavish train, the last time he had traveled to the Districts, it was mere benches and wide windows — though he supposes those are for public citizens, not potential Presidents. 

This one is laid out like a regular living room, a sofa and leather parlor chairs, rich, mahogany side tables that match the coffee table, a thick, fluffy area rug that’s beautifully woven. 

A gas fireplace is the finishing touch. 

“. . .The dining room is through this door,” he points to the door along the wall in front of them, sleeping quarters are here,” he motions to the door in the wall behind them. 

“What about bathrooms?” Tawny asks, raising a brow. 

“Each bedroom has a private restroom.” The attendant informs her. 

She only nods, glancing around their living space for the next week. 

She and Coriolanus both feel the room spinning at the idea of being In such close confines with one another for so long. 

“Who gets what room?” Tawny asks, next, crossing her arms. 

“All the rooms are the same, so it doesn’t particularly matter I suppose, Dr. Gaul.” He replies. “If you’d like me to take your luggage, I can—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Snow interrupts him. 

Her eyes flicker to Coriolanus to see he hasn’t broken his gaze, her throat going dry. 

“Thank you, Mr. Siphon.” Snow extends a bill, a generous tip that the attendant gladly accepts. 

“You’re more than welcome, Mr. Snow. Do ring anytime you need me.” He motions to the phone on the wall beside the window, and takes his leave. 

The three of them are left in an awkward silence, Philo more than observant of his boss’ attention toward Tawny.

“I’m going to my room.” Philo clears his throat, grabbing his luggage. 

Neither person acknowledges him, glaring at one another, instead. 

Once Philo goes, leaving them be, Snow’s stepping closer to her, leering down his nose at her.  

“I expect we will keep this trip civil, Dr. Gaul. Which means bickering, petty comments, ugly looks and smart remarks stay to a minimum—and don’t happen at all while we’re working.” He says plainly, sternly. “Don’t fuck this up for me.” He adds. 

She looks at him, her tongue running across the inside of her bottom lip before she says, “‘Don’t fuck this up for me’.” She quotes him. “The first time I’ve heard you acknowledge there’s nothing left of mine to fuck up.” 

“The actions of Crane and Pinnacle and your blind devotion to them has nothing to do with me.”

“My husband, who you framed for murdering the President, and my fiancé, who you deliberately pushed at publicly—on national television—until he snapped.” She states. “Do you see the common thread the disintegration of my personal life has been woven with?” 

“I did what had to be done for the sake of Panem—”

“Oh, fuck Panem!” She outbursts, anger clenching at her fists that curl up until her hand shakes. “You do not snuff out every relationship I’ve been in for the sake of the country—you do it all for yourself !” 

“It’s my fault that you just so happen to crawl into bed with treasonist bastard after treasonist bastard.” He harshly states. 

“Pias didn’t commit treason by having an opinion different than yours!”

“He committed treason by bombing that arena and killing Capitol children!” He barks back. 

Her brows furrow deeply, her beautiful face twisting in disgust at his words as her stomach drops. 

“What?” She asks just as he adds, “It was a plan to shift the layout of the arena in the tenth games—to make it more challenging—” 

“You’re lying.” She shakes her head, feeling lightheaded as she stumbles back, turning from him. 

“It worked, but not without killing Tullia Gaul, Felix Ravinstill—”

“—Enough.” She holds her hand up to get him to stop, but he continues with, “Your aunt knew about it, Pias Pinnacle knew about it—”

“Enough!” She screams, tears falling to her cheeks as she squeezes her eyes together as he shouts back, “—Because they planned it!” 

He watches the realization wash over her face, the confusion following, all mingling with tears. . .he watches her for minutes it seems, the time dragging by, slowing down. 

Eventually, she hears him leave once she turns her back, and with the closing of the door behind him, she’s allowing a quiet sob to rack up her throat. 

     Over a day passes before Coriolanus sees her.

She’s pushing her breakfast around her plate as Philo goes through the itinerary. 

“Tonight we arrive in town in Nine, and then Eight by noon Tuesday, then Three Wednesday evening, and Six by Friday morning, and then—” He stops reading off the paper Dr. Gaul had left him with, his eyes catching on the last District to visit. 

“Then what?” Coriolanus presses. 

“This one was written it, it seems. An annotation—”

“What does it fucking say, Philo?” Tawny spares no feelings in her hoarse tone, tired of the bullshitting and dancing around corners. 

Tired of the lies, the coverups and the sugarcoating. 

“It appears the order is Nine, Six, Three, Twelve, and Eight.” He reads off the edit made by hand in Volumnia’s handwriting. 

“ Twelve .” Snow repeats, realizing why Philo had hesitated to say it, his fists tensing as he restrains from throwing his glass of orange juice at the wall and pitching a fit. 

It’s a sick joke that Gaul’s making at his expense. 

“Three, Six, Eight, Nine, Twelve.” She repeats, pushing her unkept hair out of her face. “The districts plotting rebellion are the ones my brothers and your father got murdered in.” Tawny dryly says to Snow, eyes watering, anger once more rising within her. “After all those ungrateful bastards have taken from us, yet they still feel entitled to peace separated from the Capitol.” She grimaces. “And it’s us they send out here to endorse that peace when all I want to do is blow them off the fucking map.” She kicks out of her chair, ringing her hands as she stomps out of the dining cart to her room. 

“Excuse me one moment.” Snow tells Philo, clearing his throat. 

“Of course.” He replies, watching as the blonde follows after her. 

As soon as Tawny shuts the door of the cabin only big enough to fit a full sized bed and small chest of drawers, the door opens without a knock. 

“I want to go home, I shouldn’t even be here.” She shakily tells him, her voice low and thick with the attempt at keeping herself calm. 

“Tawny—”

“—This is not what I signed up for. I agreed to accompany you and make you look good, I did not agree to a great tour of soils my brothers got gunned down on.” She 

“And that’s all you’ll do.” He raises his brows. “Just smile and play nice with the other children and we’ll be done with this entire. . . production , before we even realize it.” 

“ Production .” She mutters, turning from him to sit on the bed. 

“That’s all it is.” Snow steps closer. “Pairing us together–you accompanying me as if you’re going to be an integral part of my Presidency. . .it’s for show. Spectacle .” He informs her, piecing it together in his mind, thinking the way Dr. Gaul and her ring of bureaucratic politicians think. 

“‘ As if ’?” Her dark brows drop, nostrils flaring slightly as she repeats him. “If the goal is for me to be Head of the Department of War when my aunt is gone, and the goal is for you to be President, then there is no ‘if’ about it, Snow. I will be a rather integral part of your presidency.” She argues, only for him to roll his jaw, his expression giving way to the thoughts in his head.

Her face falls flat.

“The position is for me to appoint when Dr. Gaul’s time in it ends.” He reminds her.

“And you won’t let me see the light of day in it.” It’s said more-so to herself, taking in a deep breath. “Yet another man I’ve shared my bed with that winces at the thought of me having some control.” 

“It has nothing to do with—”

“Yes, it—”

His palm is covering her mouth to shut her up, his forehead almost pressing to hers as he outbursts, “You were just throwing around wanting to incinerate five districts, Tawny!” 

Her chest heaves with each breath, while he calms and continues, “You think I’d trust you with our War Department?” 

She refuses to admit that he’s right, that she can’t be trusted with such a responsibility. 

She’s not a big enough person to stand for the greater good of the Capitol without him holding her hand to the flame of peace .

Soft fingers gently rest over his hand, pulling it from her lips, but he doesn’t make a move to back away from her from where he’s leering over her, still so close.

“Believe or not, I have been trying to figure where you’re going to fit in all of this. . .I want you to fit.” He admits quietly, his eyes scorching hers as he speaks. “Not as my mistress, or someone I’m taking along to secure people’s support, but as an indispensable asset. Because you’re good at what you do, it’s valuable to the Capitol , and it’s valuable to Panem .”

Her eyes play tricks on her, she's sure of it, when she sees blue flicker down to glance her lips for a split second, before once more meeting her eyes in the amount of time it takes to blink.

“But not you. . . Mr. President. . .” She whispers bitterly, long, black lashes framing her watering eyes, a lump forming in her throat.

It’s quite clear in this moment, to him at least, that she’s not well-rested. 

Her words sound as if she’s had a bit too much to drink in a sense, though he knows she hasn’t. 

She’s not drunk, only exhausted. 

He can’t tell if it’s due to the shambles of her personal life, or him merely exhausting her.

Irritation bubbles in him at the latter.

If anything, he should be the one crawling to the finish line of this madness, begging for it to just be over with—under far more pressure than her and concealing it better.

“Stop trying to figure out where to put me in your circle.” She tells him in a rasp. “Because I’m going to smile and be cordial, and do my damndest to sell the shit out of you as President, and then as soon as we get back home, and I’m released from this torture chamber on wheels, I’m staying as far away from you as humanly possible. And I will stay as far away from you as humanly possible until one of us dies .

They look at one another once she says it, staring, his features hardening again as if to protect his ego from her relentless words. 

Pulling away from him, she’s reaching behind her pillow, pulling her cigarette compact out from under it, along with her lighter. 

It’s fitted between her lips, the flame flickering as she strikes it before it’s catching. 

Before she can even inhale, he’s snatching it from her lips, grabbing the compact of them. 

He ignores the daggers she shoots at him with her eyes as he steps to the door, not saying another word.

[jknerd]

NIMH AU: Jeremy Crows

Full Name: Jeremy Crows

Species: Crow spirit

Age: 30s (human age)

Gender: Male

Other names: Mr. Crows, Mister Crow spirit

Occupations: “Freelancing” spirit, contract spirit

Residence: Jonathan Brisby’s Wheeled Manor (currently)

Family: Delphi Rights (eventual wife)

Relationships: Elizabeth Brisby (friend; current contractor), Jonathan Brisby (former contractor), Brisby children (godfather), Auntie Shrew (friend; occasionally), Drago “Dragon” Welker (acquaintance)

Likes: Strings, straws, the Stone, gemstones in general, flight, attractive women, Delphi Rights (love interest) Dislikes: Cats, danger, hunting, his own clumsiness, Auntie Shrew (formerly)

Jeremy Crows is a spirit of crows and fire, a former contract spirit of late Jonathan Brisby and currently Elizabeth’s contract spirit. He was formerly a contract spirit residing in the capital and cities, an occasional messenger to the pope who goes by the epithet “The Great Owl”. He and Jonathan Brisby once had a contract since his marriage to Elizabeth, with a reason of becoming concerned with his wife’s wellbeing. Despite the clumsiness, Jeremy has great knowledges of mineral resources and basic ancient science, which was an alchemy, as both worked with Nicodemus to create the Stone and kept its existence secret for a while.

Year after Jonathan’s death, Jeremy came to the town Elizabeth and her family lives, witnessing Drago Welker about to have his ways with her. He called out that there are wild animals in the forest, able to distract the hunting-obsessed gatekeeper away from her as she and Jeremy developed friendship. As he has no home, Elizabeth thought over her children may need a caretaker in case she or Auntie Shrew were busy, so she offered him a place to stay in house that was left by her husband. While initially scared of Auntie Shrew, both her and Jeremy chased Elizabeth’s unwanted suitors out of house by scaring them with tricks. Fearing of losing home and the health of Timothy, Elizabeth was desperate for help until Jeremy offered her to visit the pope who resides in large yet secluded cathedral, the Great Owl. Later, Jeremy was seen waiting with the visiting spirits as Elizabeth received answer from the said pope in order to move the house and keep Timothy safe. Jeremy said with his magic and Jonathan’s possessions he can move the house, but Elizabeth said she needed to see Nicodemus for approval since both sides seek to leave the town.

Later, making a new contract with Elizabeth, Jeremy successfully activated the Brisby house; revealed that it is a wheeled manor built by Jonathan Brisby as it could only respond to the magic contract. Along with Auntie Shrew, Jeremy was seen flipping off with a smug to upset Drago and young adult son of the Fitzgibbons. He was seen again when Elizabeth returned with the Stone and created a fireplace helping her with cooking to serve the soldiers who were tasked to protect the Brisby family. With astonished face, Jeremy made a remark on how Elizabeth can cook huge amount despite her petite figure, impressed. At the moving day, Jeremy used his fire abilities and Nicodemus’ magic to move the wheeling house again with IM-Humans as Elizabeth was away to distract and drug Drago Welker, the gatekeeper of the town. However, due to Jenner’s scheme that led to the death of Nicodemus, the magic broke as the Brisby house was immobilized. Jeremy, along with others, discovered the death of Jonathan was caused by Jenner and after the villain’s demise, Jeremy felt the magic disappearing as the house was about to collapse. However, as Elizabeth shielded her children with herself, the Stone reacted to the power through her courage and Jeremy used his remained magic to make stronger force shield to block falling debris from the family.

At the day Elizabeth woke up, Jeremy was seen with wounds tended by both Auntie Shrew and Mr. Ages. Along with IM-Humans of NIMH, Jeremy was surprised to see Nicodemus and Sullivan alive as Timothy was fully healed, finally conquering the sunlight. Later, as children of Brisby were anticipating for adventure, Jeremy’s magic was restored as he encountered a lost female spirit of crow named Delphi, forming a romance between the two. At the day of departure as he and Delphi activated the Brisby’s moving manor, he noticed Elizabeth’s aging process stopped and being a first to point it out, relieved that she will live long enough to stay with her family, and the possible future with Justin next time they meet.

[crispinablr]

What if...

(Scene where you are going to stop Sebastian in the catacombs)

Sebastian and I are discussing the relic.

-Why are you trying to stop me all the time?!

-Because I love you, asshole!

-What…? He looks at me puzzled at the sudden response and puts the relic down.

-I have been fighting by your side by side and advising you because I care about you Sebastian.

He grabbed onto his robe while trembling hands, filled with rage and despair.

-Sebastian, please, I don't want to lose you… Please…

He looks at me strangely and while he is in his moment of confusion I snatch the relic from him and throw it away and before it can crash against the wall I destroy it with a simple spell. At the moment the relic is completely destroyed, the inferi are upon us and Solomon has no better idea than to attack Sebastian and me while he tries to finish off the inferi.

Once I finish with the inferi but both uncle and nephew are still arguing, I sigh frustrated so I take Salazar Slytherin's book without either of them noticing or so I thought, I walk directly to the exit. Once outside I hear the quick footsteps of the two sallows behind me still arguing, I turn annoyed towards Sebastian:

-If you use dark magic again, I'm going to give you such a kick that you'll remember me for all eternity.

-I thought you liked me?

-And I like you, but sometimes you drive me crazy.

-And you!! -I point my finger accusingly at Mr. Solomon- Is he crazy!? Didn't you see that he was trying to finish off the Inferi? And he can't think of a better idea than casting spells on me while I fight so they don't kill us!!

-I was trying to stop you!!

-That's not the way!! -Sebastian and I say at the same time

-Miss, you bettergive that book back to me, it's dangerous

-That book is ours - Sebastian stands up for me

-I'm going to give it to Professor Weasley, she will know what to do.

Before either of us could react, Anne appears out of nowhere and looks at us. I walk up to her and start reciting the curse that rookwood put on her backwards.

Suddenly I see Anne stop being stiff and become more relaxed as her skin turns from sickly white to a pinker shade, her posture from hunched over in pain to more upright.

Uncle and nephews are stunned by what happened and soon Anne jumps towards me to hug me, she takes me by surprise so I freeze in place for a moment and I give myself a few small pats on the back as a consolation. Now I just wanted it all to be over and to be able to go back to the comfort of my bed.

I break away from Anne and watch as the twins hold each other tearfully, Sebastian pulls away from him and caresses his sister's cheeks with his thumbs.

-Oh Anne I'm so sorry, I just wanted to help you. -I know but you were going too far, you were going to sacrifice all of Feldcroft for me so I had to ask for help. -Boy you were lucky that your friend and I could stop you. -Now he is a we?! Because in the catacombs you were blaming me for flirting with the dark side of your dear nephew. Besides that I almost died because of him, I only came to stop Sebastian's feet because Ominis sent me an owl.

Anne sees Salazar Slytherin's book and points to it.

-Does Ominis know about this? - Anne asks concerned -He was with us when we found the book in the scriptorium. -I said carefree -The script what? -She said without understanding

-Don't worry little sister, I'll tell you at home

Solomon still looks at us skeptically but I don't give it any more importance, I prepare my broom to leave.

-I'm going to give the book to the deputy director and then I'm going to sleep because it's very late and I'm dying of sleep.

-I'll stay with Anne and let Ominis know what happened. -Thank you again for saving me and my family," says Anne with a smile.

I smile looking at the trio and ride my broom straight to Hogwarts but not before saying a few last words.

-I hope to see you in class soon and you better not mess around while Ominis and I aren't watching you.-I laugh and finally leave.

[ynandfics]

Gryffindor had just won a game against Slytherin, which meant only one thing by any standard- a party which would invite everyone from Hogwarts but the losing house.

“Are you gonna ask out Evans again this time Prongs?” Sirius asked the slightly tipsy boy next to him.

“I’ll do one better” the young boy set off towards the group of girls that included Lily Evans as well as her other dorm mates.

“Hello Potter” Marlene McKinnon addressed the captain of the Quidditch team.

“Hi McKinnon, I was wondering if I could steal Evans for a minute” the girls looked at one another and then at Lily, which she nodded at them.

“Okay but don’t do anything to our girl” Mary said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Uh huh” I dragged Lily into a corner where the boys dorms meet the common room kissing her slightly, and once I felt her respond, I became more dominant with her and pulled her up to the dorms.

————————————————————

“So uh Potter, Lily called me over the summer and you’re in so much trouble.” Mary said the second she spotted the four marauders waiting at the train.

“What did I do?” James was a little confused as he didn’t remember doing anything with Lily before the end of school year.

“She’ll tell you in private, I heard you’re both head boy and girl now” James wordlessly nodded, walking away to find Lily.

“So what did he do?” Remus turned to Mary.

“This was mostly to get him away because they screwed at the last party between all the houses cause of Quidditch-“ Remus started to connect the dots before Mary finished.

“She’s pregnant? During our 7th year? What the fuck?” Remus whispered, both Sirius and Peter smacking each other so they didn’t have an outburst- or well Sirius anyways.

“Yes, now James doesn’t know so he’s going to find Lily and she’ll tell him…the girls already know…and he looks like he’s gonna faint boys- let’s go” Mary and the boys quickly walked over to where Lily and James were….she had the small stick with her that had that damned plus line still.

“I would say congratulations, but how the fuck are you gonna have a kid whilst still in your seventh year?” Sirius whispered yelled once they got into their usual cabin.

“I don’t know, I just know I won’t leave them with my family cause they already think I’m a freak! James’ mum is a nurse- maybe she could help….I don’t know” James’ cringed at the mention of his mother.

“Mum would kill me, knowing I’d have a kid now- she’s already practically adopted Sirius but another blood relative she’d practically die becoming a grandmother so young” James’ looked at his friends, then Lily and then down at the table.

“Well I guess I just charm my stomach to not look pregnant and then we talk to McGonagall because she’ll need to know theirs gonna be a child in the dorms now” everyone in the cabin nodded.

———————————————————

“As head boy and head girl, I expected better out of the two of you” McGonagall started “but as the circumstances have changed, I suppose your free periods will now be ultimately fulfilling a child’s needs that the elf’s can’t help you with” Lily nodded at McGonagall and then looked at the floor.

“Do your parents know Miss Evans?” The elder woman looked towards the 17 year old girl in front of her.

“No Professor, they bid me a freak and do not talk to me during my time at home” She glanced up at her Head of House.

“Mr Potter, what about yourself? Do they know?” She never referred to him as ‘Mr Potter’, not since their first year. This was serious, more serious than any prank they could pull.

“No Professor, I only found out before the train. I will owl mum and dad to see what is best for us” He stood straighter, looking McGonagall straight in the eyes.

“Best hope so, I know your mother is a nurse at St. Mungo’s and Poppy can do her best to help you both on the way. Try and hide this pregnancy as much as possible and we’ll all try and help as much as possible until the baby is born…in July I believe?” Both teenagers nodded.

“Well your exams will be then and I am willing to help if needed, you know that I’m in my office often enough” the older woman smiled at the two, she knew they both had affection for each other and well, this might have been the push they needed.

“Thank you Professor” Lily voiced for the both of them.

“Thanks Minnie” James smiled at the Professor.

————————————————————

July had come and gone, at the end of the month with two screaming babies at St.Mungo’s.

“Oh they’re beautiful” James’s mum was beside herself, not being able to help in delivering her son’s children. A boy and girl.

“So what are the names?” His father asked, James lovingly looked at Lily. She knew he wanted her to say them as he was handed his baby girl.

“Harry James Potter and Luna Petunia Potter” Lily smiled tiredly. She yawned straight after, her body betraying her will to stay awake.

“Go to sleep love, we’ll still be here when you get back” James kissed her forehead and her friends cooed over the two lovely children.

————————————————————

“Hey mum there’s the owl at our window” Harry yelled to his mum who was upstairs with his sister.

“Get the mail would you sweetheart, and give her a treat this time” Lily’s voice carried towards her son who was slowly walking towards the kitchen window.

“Alright, two letters and a treat for our girl” the owl rubbed her head affectionately on his hand and then proceeded to take his treat and fly away.

“Hey dad, it’s our Hogwarts letters!” Harry moved towards his father, who was reading the newspaper, Rita Skeeter still causing drama as usual.

“That’s great little man! Get you both into Gryffindor and continue our legacy…,I can see it now- and Minnie will love seeing you both as grown kids, the last time she saw you you were babies during our exam period” Harry looked at his father as he was crazy, surely he and his sister weren’t babies when they were still in school?

“MUM! Can you explain what dad just said?” Harry yelled up to his mother, both ladies of the house running down to the boys.

“Uh yeah I suppose we should, we just aren’t sure if you’re really ready to hear it” the two children looked a their mum, Lily Potter, who was a fearless woman and also so caring too.

“We’re ready mum, we should know” Luna spoke for both her and Harry.

“Let’s get settled then, it’s a wild ride” James had addressed the two, who now had sat down on their living room couch.

“Ok I suppose I should start that at some point I hated your father, for no reason besides his antics and school rivalry” she looked at her husband to continue.

“And I kept trying to ask out your mother, constantly really. But at one Gryffindor party that all changed.” James made what could be placed as jazz hands.

———————————————————

“Okay, who cares what house you’re in….just don’t do what me and your father did and have kids too early” Lily laughed as the two children and their parents, godparents and their own children prepared to rush into Platform 9 3/4.

“Try for Gryffindor though, we’re the best house” James smiled at his two children, ready to face the world of magic.

“Okay dad we’ll try” Luna rolled her eyes at her fathers absurd request.

“Let’s go before we miss the train!” Luna and Harry both rain towards the entrance to the train, and you could see them sit at the same spot in which their parents did back in the 70s.

“They’ll be okay yeah?” Lily looked at James with a soft expression.

“Of course they will” James hugged her tightly.

The train started to move and the two kids and a few more who joined them waved out the windows to bid their parents goodbye until the holidays.

————————————————————

“Harry Potter!” The two were well known with McGonagall, they both had been in her care as their own parents did their exams….but for some reason they both still felt nervous when heading towards the sorting hat.

“Gryffindor!” Harry jumped off the seat, a sea of red waiting to greet him into his new house, or a found family of all sorts.

“Luna Potter!” The hat had a harder time getting into the young girl’s head, knowing her brother begged to not be in Slytherin like his dad said. The hat toyed with her emotions, saying if she should be with him or be with the cunning and ambitious Slytherin’s.

“Slytherin!” She got a round of applause from the house of snakes, taking on last look at her brother- he was looking away and talking to new house members.

————————————————————

Luna, we take no offence for you being in Slytherin. My childhood best friend was a Slytherin, although I moved on from him quickly when his ugly beliefs showed, I know he is one of your professors and I hope he will guide you well.

I have had a word with your brother, I know he may not want to show his affection to you whilst in front of his friends due to house wars, just know he’ll be there for you in private.

Lots of love,

Mum

Ps. Dad said to say hello to Minnie and talk to her if you need anything at all cause she still remembers us.

Luna read the letter over and over again whilst munching on some toast, something in her gut told her that her relationship with her brother was about to become very difficult.

[thebelljarwriter]

Staircase - day 5: clutch

another bfucu fic oh boy, day 5 for @31-daysofhorror !!

trigger warning for: attempted/imagined child murder, brief talk of violence.

The Goldsworth Manor is a fine home. 

 It is a fine home with a fine family. The head of the household is a man of many secrets, quiet, sometimes aloof, and is usually in his Sunday best, as seen when he is looking in the mirror adjusting his tie and buttoning up his vest. The man standing by him is a detective (or a retired one at that), he is taller than the head of the house, Edgar isn’t sure how or why the former detective is so affectionate over him, for he is cold as ice and never smiling (unless it’s at the tall detective), but sometimes Edgar finds the two with their fingers interlocked during dinner. 

 And then there is the youngest, the little princess.

 Rosalie Goldsworth.

 She is much different from her father, she’s chipper, a dazzling grin and wide doe eyes that crinkle when she smiles. She resembles the mystery man in many ways, all but in personality (which thank God for Edgar). 

 The Goldsworth Manor is a fine home with fine people.

 However, Edgar finds himself completely seething at them. 

  Sometimes, he wondered, how big must the Goldsworth Fortune be. Surely, Mr. Goldsworth had lots of money from his father (who he had said was deceased when he was young), he did mention before that his father was from old money dating back to the Edwardian era. If Rose were to come of age, she’d inherit the fortune, since she’d been his only child. The young Rosalie, an heiress to the golden throne. Often times, Edgar had felt embarrassed to be jealous of such a child, she was only an innocent twelve-year-old, possibly unaware of what type of man Mr. Goldsworth was. She only spent her time practicing her violin or playing with her cat, Tybalt, or sitting by the fireplace reading whatever book there was in the library.

 And yet, she was born with a silver spoon in mouth, dressed in a little bow and a little baby blue dress who had never ever dealt with the horrors of everyday life. And she was so sickeningly sweet too, oftentimes Edgar found himself loathing the little princess, the sight of that navy blue bow and doe eyes made him nauseated. 

 The golden child.

  The very life he wanted, the life he should’ve had, now he had to see it lived by these people. 

 “Rosalie.” Mr. Goldsworth calls from downstairs, “get your shoes, we’ll be late for the movie theater.”

 Edgar isn’t paying attention when Rosalie runs down the hallway to where Edgar is, that is until he feels her bump into him and losing her balance on the first step of the stairs, she almost trips, yelping as Edgar grabs her by the arm. Like an owl clutching a mouse. His heart drops to his stomach and exhales heavily, eyes wide as dinner plates as he locks eyes with Rosalie who looks just as frightened as he was.

 And then, a thought starts to form in the back of Edgar’s head.

 How easy would it be to simply throw her down the stairs, how easy would it be to just let go and give her just a small shove, to watch her lose balance and fall down those stairs, hearing the thud once she hits the floor as he watches with a blank, vacant expression. It’d just be that easy, he thinks. No more seeing the little spoiled princess live out the life he would’ve had, he should’ve had. He imagines while he still has her arm an iron-grip clutch, her father seeing her sprawled on the floor, gasping in horror as he sees the pool of blood spill. 

 He imagines her father kneeling down, his eyes widening as he shouts out for the other to call for an ambulance, the police, anybody. 

 He imagines her father— 

 Then Edgar’s grip starts to loosen, her father. He imagines, then, what would his reaction be had he found out who had done such a thing to his beloved Rose, he imagines his eyes blazing with a fury of a thousand suns when he finds Edgar standing there, his brow snapping together in a pure rage. He imagines his fist clenched and eyes darkening into something akin to a seething loathing and a thirst for vengeance. Edgar imagines the type of stuff Mr. Goldsworth would do to him if he had cut Rose’s life too short, his legs broken, and his head bashed in the same way he would almost do to his little princess. The man had named her Rose for a reason, and God forbid anything happen to her, lest that someone had a death wish. 

 And Edgar didn’t have a death wish. 

 Then, the soft-spoken voice of the little princess breaks him out of that daydream.

 “–Edgar?” 

 Edgar squeezes his eyes shut before opening them, seeing the expression in Rosalie’s face, eyes flickering with confusion and… fear. Edgar trembles, suddenly, he no longer wants to see fear in those doe-eyes, only joy for now on.

 He helps her regain balance on the stairs, offering to walk her down. 

 “Watch your step,” he mumbles as they reach down. He watches Rose run towards her father and dad, hiding behind Mr. Goldsworth almost immediately as she continues to look at him with those wide, terror-stricken eyes. Mr. Goldsworth places a hand on her head, looking at Edgar, confused. Edgar simply stands there with hands behind his back, standing still like a good butler, his face unreadable and a vacant stare. 

 “...we’ll be back, Edgar.” Mr. Goldsworth says, uncertain, gesturing to the detective to take Rosalie to the car outside, to which the detective takes her hand and walk to Mr. Goldsworth’s Rolls-Royce parked outside.

 “I will wait for you then, Mr. Goldsworth.” Edgar says, voice monotone. 

 He still stands, even after Mr. Goldsworth is the last to leave. Even after he had left, he looked back at him, brow snapped together in a spur of suspension. And Edgar finds himself all alone, all the while thinking… 

 How easy would it be?

[girlindelusionn]

i want them all, robin x you (part 2!)

"My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you"

part 1! part 3!

Your hands make their way to Robin’s door before you can even think if it's a good idea. There were only forty minutes till midnight and on a regular night it wouldn't be a problem. You were both night owls, so she would be definitely awake, reading, practicing for band as softly as humanly possible or just daydreaming in general and you would climb to her window like in those really bad cliché movies and you two would spend the insomnia together.

But today it was Christmas eve.

You had to admit, even after the rough start, this awful town wasn't really that bad. A lot had happened in a year, the furniture had come and you’ve made your new room feel almost as good as your old one. You had adopted a cat, Jo, who had lived in your closet. You thought the irony on that was hilarious, for about three weeks till your parents found out and grounded you for a month. You still got to keep her, though. And, honestly, school wasn't that bad. At least not with Robin at your side.

Oh, right! Robin! This past year you had also realized you had feelings –gay feelings– for your best friend. Which was terrifying, excruciating, and every other negative adjective you could ever think of and put you on the worst dilema to ever exist: on the one hand, this stupid crush could not keep growing and developing into more than it already was, so the reasonable option would be to not spend every second of every day with her, like you two were attached to the hip. But, on the other hand, this friendship was the most valuable thing in your life.

You couldn't have her the way you wanted to and you couldn't lose her, so you did what you do best; Repressed the shit out of everything, even getting a boyfriend in the process.

It wasn’t hard. Boys had so much lust on their brains that there was barely any room for them to notice you were not a single bit attracted to them. You said yes to the first one who asked you to prom, his name was Ben, and during the night you bailed on him, saying you had lady problems, to spend the night in the library with Robin. She asked why even go with him in the first place, but you didn't answer. You shrugged and luckily to her it was enough. It wasn't convenient for either of you to start asking questions. Cause if you did then you would've asked why she didn't say yes to Calvin when he asked her to prom, which would have led her to finally admiting she had a thing for fucking Steve "The Hair" Harrington and you just werent in the mood to deal with that.

Luckily the door opens right on time to save you from the spiral you were about to go into, showing a very confused, kinda concerned Mrs Buckley.

"Y/N! C'mon in, it's freezing, sweetie!" She guides you to the kitchen, like she has done multiple times this past year. The decorations make you feel even worse about crashing their dinner, but you're glad to find a picture of little Robin in the hallway, half her face buried in a green scarf, hugging a snowman with the biggest smile you've ever seen.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner like this." you apologize. She makes a 'don't worry' gesture with her hand as she starts to make you a cup of tea.

"It was just us three this year." she says, in hope you feel a little better. "Is everything okay? Robin left with her dad but they should be back any second."

You nod from across the kitchen table and you know she knows you're lying. Your face is red and you're pretty sure you have mascara tears all over you.

"It's just…" you start to talk and immediately regret it, but it's too late now "Um, romantic stuff?"

Mrs Buckley's face lights up. Robin is not very interested in telling her things about her personal life, so she's excited. But she's also kind and warm and doesn't pressure you in any kind of way.

"Bad break up?" she guesses, and you thank the opportunity to take the easy exit.

"Yeah…"

She looks at you with a sad smile, offering you her hand to hold. You accept it and she squeezes your embrace as she says:

"Everything has a reason, Y/N. Everything that is meant to be will happen, and everyone that's meant to be will come back eventually. It's just hard to see the big picture sometimes."

Surprisingly, her words are a lot more accurate to your actual real situation than you expect them to be. It catches you with your guard down, so a single tear manages to escape your watery eyes. Mrs Buckley smiles again and is at this moment when the rest of the family arrives home.

"MOM THEY DIDN'T HAVE THE BLUE CHEESE AND I DIDNT WANNA ASK KYLE CAUSE I'M LIKE NINETY PERCENT SURE HE'S GONNA MURDER ME IN MY SLEEP, A–" yells Robin as she makes her way to the kitchen, a lot of little bags fill her hands. She shuts up when she sees you in her kitchen "Dude, I already know my mom liked you better but this? I–" you turn around to face her and she stops talking when she realizes your state. "Y/N, are you okay?" she adds in a soft, concerned voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'll tell you later. "

You excuse yourself from her parents, Mr Buckley also shoots you a worried look, you assure him that everything is fine –her parents are so sweet, it was almost overwhelming– and you go up to Robin's room.

"It was the idiot of Ben, right?" she asks as soon as you guys are alone. But this time you're not so sure about taking the exit.

Mrs Buckley words were still echoing in your head, if Robin was a person worth it to have in your life then she would be okay with it. Confessing your feelings was clearly off the table, but maybe you could at least come out to her?

You still aren't sure, so you say: "Kinda…"

She shoots you a confused look "Kinda?" and seeing you wouldnt keep talking she adds "What the fuck did he do? Do I have to to break his nose?"

You chuckle a bit from the mental image of that situation. You pictured a very angry, 5'7 Robin yelling to the face of the captain of the basketball team, cursing him in all four languages. And that's exactly what makes you decide to come out to her. You knew with your soul that, if needed to, she would kick his ass, quite literally. Someone who loved you that much would understand.

Right?

"We broke up" you finally confess, going through the room and sitting on your personal spot below the window. Thats where she kept the box with all her mixtapes, so to avoid her stare you start to organize them.

"Really?" She says after a while of silence. Idioms on the right, 60s and 70s on the middle… "Today?"

"Yep" Maybe you could also put them in alphabetical order? But for the artist or for the name of the album? "Over the phone."

"No way!" she says, offended. "Over the fucking phone? He’s an asshole!"

You sight once more and almost decide to give up, coming out wasn't really that necessary, right? But then you find the mixtape you made her for her birthday, two months ago. "Robin and Y/N survive High School '' was the title you'd given it, and you'd even painted a cover with a drawing of one of your favorite pictures together. You really meant everything to each other. There was only twenty minutes left till midnight and she wasn't celebrating, she was here, genuinely concerned about you. So you decide to keep talking, still not sure if it’s a good idea.

"He's not, I am…" you say and she's ready to argue when you explain "I broke up with him. Over the phone. On Christmas Eve. I'm the asshole."

"You broke up with him?" The words are shocking enough to make her stop pacing the room nervously and sit down beside you. "Why?"

All the tapes were perfectly organized now, so there was no way to avoid her eyes anymore. "Cause I didn't like him."

"Why? Did he say something?"

"No! I mean, I don't think I've ever liked him" She just stares at you with confusion in her eyes and all you want is for this moment to be over. "It's not about him! I just don't… like them."

"Who?"

Your heart races, your palms start to sweat and all of your instincts are telling you to run as fast as you can. But you continue:

"Boys…"

And just like that is over. The secret, the one thing you've been keeping as close to your soul as you possibly could, is finally free. You're surprised that you managed to say it out loud and while keeping eye contact. You see her eyebrows go up as her eyes slightly open.

"Really?" She has a weird expression, she isn't mad or disgusted, which is great, but there is something else you can't put your finger on.

"Yeah." you say, and brace yourself for the worst when you see her look away. Maybe she was disgusted.

Maybe it was a mistake, your relationship was fine and now she's gonna be all awkward and weird and it was the stupidest thing ever! What the hell were you even thinking?! You're not in a big city, this is the middle of Hawkins! What kind of reaction were you even expecting?

You take a breath when you notice she wants to say something, not optimistic at the fact that she's still not looking at you. Her gaze is stuck on her shoes, those red converse she had let you fill with dumb doodles. There was one in particular she liked the best, and it always caused fights because, objectically, it was the worst drawn one. It was a little crappy plane, made with black marker, with two little stick figures on top of it, holding hands. And below there you had written "operation croissant, phase one:"

You had talked about running away, it was definitely your biggest desire –especially now, when you've possibly lost the only good thing in this town–, but money was tight and there was no way to do it before finishing highschool. And you still had a year and a half of that bullshit. Also now you'll have to split the money you guys had saved and plan different trips and the idea of running didn't sound half as appealing on your own. An–

"I don't like them either…." she whispers so low you aren't even sure she talked in the first place.

"What?" you also whisper, but loud enough.

"I don't like boys either "

And before you have any time to even start to process that bomb of information you hear a knock on the door.

"I brought juice for the toast!" you hear her mother say. Robin quickly wipes away her own tears and opens the door. "I didn't know if you guys would want t–"

"Thank you, mom. Bye!" She cuts her off. Mrs Buckley frowns but understands and goes away, not before asking you one more time if you're okay.

"I'm fine, Mrs Buckley, I swear."

"Oh cmon, Y/N, you know you can call me Melissa…"

"Goodbye, mom!" pushes Robin.

"I'm going, i'm going!"

But even though she has clearly interrupted possibly the biggest moment of your friendship, you were glad she did. Cause now when Robin closes the door behind her back the first thing you guys do is laugh at the absurdity of the moment.

It’s one of those laughs that cannot be stopped. Sooner than later you're laying down in the middle of her room, gasping for air in between shrieks of laughter. After a minute that feels a lot longer, silence invades you once again.

She was fucking gay too.

Who would have thought?

And even though, in theory, this would be a pretty good win for you, a bit of light at the end of the tunnel. Even though you knew for sure you weren't alone in this anymore. That single fact leads to another dilemma:

Being irretrievably in love with her, did it hurt less when you knew there wasn't any chance of her returning those feelings? When there was an actual, biological, explanation? Were things better now, when you could hang on to this little piece of hope? Or did it just make it worse? Knowing her lack of affection had everything to do with you and not with something you can't change or choose.

"Should we talk?" she asks, scared of breaking the peace in the room.

"It's 11:58, Rob." you point out as you sit down next to her in bed. Her worried face lights up when she hears the nickname, which does not help you at all with this not being stupidly in love with her thing "Let's toast first, we actually have something to celebrate this year, don't we?"

She nods and you two cheer with the juice her mom brought, not without adding a bit of the secret vodka below Robin's bed.

Forty peaceful minutes –and probably like three or four more glasses of the mix you had just created– after you find yourselves on the roof. You know drunk people and heights are usually combinations people with common sense seem to avoid, but you both were tired of living like that. Ruled by things you didn't believe in. And tonight had definitely meant freedom, even if the biggest part of the secret was still a secret. So you celebrated this way. Being drunk and stupid, just for the night.

But there was one factor you hadn't considered. If resisting her sober was living hell, the alcohol in your blood made it borderline impossible.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asks. And you're almost too distracted watching her watch the sky to even respond. You liked to pretend it was only the moon that made her shine that way.

"Sure." and you know it's a mistake as soon as it leaves your lips.

"Why did you even date him?"

"My parents were getting suspicious." you lie. Cause again, saying 'cause I'm so deeply in love with you that I desperately needed anything and anyone to get you out of my head' seemes a liiitle too much. "Saying that I should 'lower my standards’ or whatever. They were also thinking about introducing me to someone themselves…"

"I don't think my parents know…"

"I don't think they'll be mad or anything" You say. She doesn't look as convinced.

"There's a big difference between not being mad and being actually supportive, right?"

"Yeah" You agree "Honestly, I don't think i'll ever tell my dad" Robin nods, she understands. She actually does. It still feels insane.

"Can I ask another question?"

"Of course, dummy"

"How did you find out?"

"A girl at the beach. I must've been eight or nine. We spent the whole summer together and the last night before I left she kissed me on our secret tree." You smile at the memories. At least that one was a cute story.

"Oh, that's so sweet!" She whines.

"Yeah. Never saw her again, though. Now I can't even remember her name…"

"But, wait, have you known since then??" She realizes after a second of silence, only filled by the sound of the wind.

"Yep, pretty much." She mutters 'wow' under her breath "Why? When did you find out?"

"Last year."

"Last year?"

Robin nods and you frown. "Tammy Thompson."

"Right! Of course Tammy Thompson!" You laugh and suddenly her face is all red and she's throwing little pieces of candy wrappers at you. "Half of sophomore year talking about how good she sings and how she was 'born to be in the spotlight'!"

"Shut up!"

"–And that's why you were so obsessed with Steve Harrington! Cause Tammy liked him! Everything makes sense now!"

"I was not obsessed with The Hair Harrington!"

"Yeah, you were" silence invades you once again and your focus shifts from the view to her face.

Her perfect little nose, filled with millions of freckles that, at least for you, were a hundred times more interesting than the constellations she was always telling you about.

"Well I'm not anymore…"

Her lips are a little cracked and slightly blue because of the wind, but you imagined they tasted like magic, hope and the chocolates and cherry juice you just had.

"I know."

Her hair runs free, like it always does, she hated it but you thought it captured her spirit perfectly. She would roll her eyes, not noticing the complement between the lines.

"Good…" She whispers. More to herself than to you.

She zones out for a minute, admiring Hawkins from the heights. There’s, obviously, no one in sight and it’s quiet. It must be really late.

"At least now we have an actual reason to run away from here" She says.

"You don't think Hawkins is ever going to be a place where we could live in peace?"

"No" She responds without missing a beat. You know she's right. "Do you think that place exists?"

"Yes." You don't miss a beat either. Yeah, you two were pretty fucked, but now that you had eachother it was clear that it wasnt the end of the world "We could go to San Francisco? Maybe New York?"

"There we could be free?"

"There we'd at least have a chance to fight for it."

You hear the wind louder and louder and you notice she's freezing. When you both decided to climb the window you had anticipated this exact situation and grabbed a blanket that now laid on your shoulders. You try to hand it over to her but she refuses –"I swear I'm not cold!" she clearly lies in between shivers– so you make her a bit of room and convince her to sit right next to you and share it.

Again, your slightly intoxicated brain didn't think it through, cause now you are very close. You could hear her heartbeat, smell her shampoo and feel her legs against yours kind of close.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Robin?"

"How did you know I was looking at Steve Harrington?"

You freeze. What are you even supposed to do right now?

Keep lying?

You had tasted the truth for the first time today and it had been wonderful. Maybe it’s pushing your luck, but she smells so good and her eyes shine so bright and she’s so close and you just really want her to stop asking questions so…

You kiss her.

And for two eternal seconds you feel the same sensation you have when you jump to the water from a trampoline. That second in the air when you don't really know if the water is really gonna catch you. That second of doubt, of not knowing if you're flying or falling.

Until she kisses back.

After a couple minutes you break apart slightly. Foreheads still touching and breaths still impossible to tell apart.

“With all of this I forgot your gift at home” is the first thing you say. Robin chuckles without opening her eyes just yet.

“I can think of a way for you to make it up to me…” she jokes.

“Mhm?” You play dumb. “Alright, then I’ll keep the Italian version of ‘If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler’ for myself then”

Robin’s eyes open to the point you're concerned about her corneas.

“I think I want to reconsider my options, please.” You laugh and kiss her once again.

“Too late.”

[sunsents]

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

[hillnerd]

The Wonderful Won Won - Chapter 6

A03     ff.net      beginning of story   | Previous Chapter

chapter word count 6006

Been a while! I had this chapter almost all written but completely forgot about it to be honest!

Chapter Warnings- crude language and thoughts.

Chapter 6 - O -R -G

Ron woke early, something he was quite loathe to do. He should have gotten used to it, since he grew up on a farm and was forced out of bed quite early in the morning for chores a few times a week. He never did. While other siblings were genuine early risers, Ron was more of a night owl. He had time to himself at night, no chores, and no expectations. Plus there were few things that brought more pleasure than falling asleep and waking up naturally as late as you needed.

Despite all this, Ron found himself giddy. He was finally going to leave the hospital wing. Pomfrey had run a gamut of tests on him the night before- and he was mostly alright. He still had potions to take, he still had trouble with writing when he was tired, and he still felt a bit wobbly with walking after a few minutes- but he was allowed to go to class! He could finally move and interact with people.

The air felt fresher. The warmth from his long shower actually seemed to seep in deeper than it had before. And he had Hermione back. How could anything be wrong in his life again?

As Harry went to the bathroom to get dressed and do his morning ablutions, Madame Pomfrey approached Ron at the door, a few vials of potion in her hands.

“Now, just because I am letting you attend your classes does not give you a completely clean bill of health, Mr Weasley. You’ve got to take these potions as instructed within thirty-seven minutes of eating or they lose their efficacy. If you eat them without food they can eat right through you, so it’s highly important to take them with your meal. Your next potion is in twenty minutes. I’ve put some Unbreakable charms on these so you can keep them in your book bag without trouble.”

“Thanks, Madame Pomphrey,” he said, hoping his face got across how he felt. Though he was very grateful for her care, he was more thankful for her doing this in private.

“It’s just my job,” she said with a shake of her head. She gave him a look that almost seemed fond before she was all Healer-business again. “Now, if you have dizziness, confusion, or limb numbness that continues for more than a few moments that’s a sign you need to rest. No pushing yourself, and no Quidditch for another week. And if you have the more severe symptoms—”

“I’ll come to you,” Ron nodded, trying his best not to roll his eyes. He put his book bag on the floor to place the large amount of potions bottles in it when he heard the unmistakable cadence of footsteps coming his way. He tried to get all the bottles into his bag before she’d seen them, but glancing up he knew he’d been caught.

Hermione stood over him, face full of concern, eyes dead focused on his hand struggling to hold six bottles at once.

“That’s an awful lot of potions to be taking still…”

He quickly shoved the bottles into his bag, but took his time righting himself. His eyes trailed up Hermione feasting over her from her tiny little ankles, to her ink stained fingers, to her — shit he shouldn’t look at her tits— to her pert nose, and overbite she’d never fully gotten rid of pressing into her full bottom lip. There was something stirring about finally standing on his own two feet so near to her. He knew he was standing a bit too close, but he couldn’t help himself. He could stand there staring at her all day.

“Are you sure it’s alright for you to get out of the Hospital Wing so soon?” she fretted, and his heart soared. He didn’t like to see her worried, exactly, but seeing her making that concerned face just for him— not for Harry or Kreacher or whoever— cemented that things had truly been healed between them. Their pleasant time in the hospital wing wasn’t an anomaly. She really was back in his life.

“I’ll be fine,” he grinned, putting a hand on her shoulder.

A tender secret sort of smile slowly spread across her face. “Well, it will be nice to have you back in classes and everything else again.”

She was looking up at him through her lashes, there was something behind her eyes he couldn’t quite define as they stared at one another. His eyes fell to her lips. A charge seemed to pass between them, and he felt a swooping sensation nearabouts his stomach. Could she feel it too? Or was he just woozy from being bedridden so long? His gaze traced back up to her unreadable eyes.

“Morning, Hermione!” came Harry’s voice.

“Sweet fuck, Harry!” Ron cursed in surprise, gripping Hermione’s shoulder a bit tight. Whatever spell had passed between him and Hermione was broken. She gave Ron a miffed look that clearly said she had little patience for his foul mouth, before turning her gaze on Harry. She was beaming at him with a happy tender expression that seemed to surpass the one she’d given Ron earlier.

What an utter sod he was. Friends… Ron and Hermione were just friends… He’d have to remind himself of that every day. Realizing he’d let his hand linger on Hermione a bit too long for a friendly gesture, he snatched it away and took a few steps back from her.

God that was close. He couldn’t be staring at her like that and thinking of her lips and reading into her looks. He had a girlfriend… And Hermione was now happily chatting with Harry as if Ron didn’t exist.

Harry looked happier than Ron had seen him in ages.

“Looks like we finally have a clean bill of health!” Harry declared, going to his bed to collect his bag.

“Looks like,” Ron said, giving Hermione a silencing look as she opened her mouth in protest. She shut her mouth with a small click of her teeth and had an expression that plainly conveyed her disapproval. To his relief she schooled her face to a more neutral look by the time Harry got back to them.

Ron felt uncertain as he took his first steps out of the hospital wing. The elation at his newfound freedom was definitely there, but he still felt like a partially unraveled sweater. Normally Ron was outstripping Harry without thinking, but he couldn’t take the long easy strides he normally did and his book bag felt like a lead broom. Harry was back to full health, of course, so there was no gimping around and blaming his ambling pace on his best friend.

It must have meant a lot to have their trio back together, for Harry uncharacteristically clapped his arms around both their shoulders a moment, a beam on his face and a spring in his step. Harry set an excited pace down the hall and just a minute or so into their walk Ron was already feeling winded.

“Harry, could you slow down? I have a few heavy books in my bag,” said Hermione, slowing her pace until she was moving about as slow as Auntie Muriel; just about the right pace for Ron. Harry was practically vibrating having to slow his quick strides down for her, but Ron couldn’t have been happier. He shot her a knowing raise of an eyebrow behind Harry’s back, and a bit of color came to the apples of her cheeks.

Harry kept having trouble keeping a slow pace until Hermione brought up Ginny and Dean’s most recent fight.

“What did they row about?” he asked with much more interest than the topic deserved. Ron had never known Harry to be much of a gossip before, and couldn’t fathom why he cared so much about Ginny and Dean all of a sudden.

A great crash down the hall stopped Hermione from answering. Some little girl had dropped her scales, and was looking at them like they were about to bake her into a pie or something. Hermione quickly tended to the weird little thing, which was just like her. He was quite fond of how she’d tut and fret over the oddest creatures in need. Her compassion was a bit hard to predict at times.

She’d heap it on the likes of an ungrateful wretch like Kreacher, then withhold it from someone like Sirius because he was a bit of a wreck. Most people thought she was just a hard nosed fussbudget— but Ron got to see the little moments where she’d do tender little things for others, genuinely trying to help them— even if she got it dead wrong, and even if they didn’t want their help.

He watched as Hermione’s helpful smile fell. Even her hair looked a bit limper when she’d not managed to help someone. As per usual, Hermione’s help didn’t seem particularly wanted, for the girl didn’t so much as utter a ‘thanks,’ the ungrateful twitchy midget.

“I swear they’re getting smaller,” Ron said, hoping to brace Hermione a bit.

“Never mind her,” Harry groused, giving a dismissive hand wave towards the midget. “What did Ginny and Dean row about, Hermione?”

“Oh, Dean was laughing about McLaggen hitting that Bludger at you.”

“It must’ve looked funny,” said Ron. Honestly with Luna’s commentary it had been. It didn’t sound like something worthy of a full row, but Hermione had other ideas.

“It didn’t look funny at all!”

Ron tried to catch her eye, but she ignored him, hands wringing the same way they had in the hospital wing. Had she been that worried about Ron? He couldn’t rightly recall. His week in the hospital wing was still a blur, but the worry she had for Harry stood out in sharp focus.

“It looked terrible, and if Coote and Peakes hadn’t caught Harry he could have been very badly hurt!”

“Yeah, well, there was no need for Ginny and Dean to split up over it,” said Harry, a weird constipated sort of look on his face. “Or are they still together?”

“Yes, they are — but why are you so interested?”

“I just don’t want my Quidditch team messed up again!” said Harry, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The encroaching interrogation by Hermione was cut off by the sound of Luna Lovegood greeting them. The odd girl floated over and, without preamble, began unloading random garbage from her bag directly into Ron’s hands. Once his hands were nearly full she found a bedraggled message from Dumbledore for Harry. Ron grinned at the dotty teen as she started gathering her toadstool and cat litter back. She was mad, of course, but she was a good sort of girl who was able to cheer him as well as any charm.

“Nice commentary last match!” he told her.

She smiled, but it seemed stiff and unfriendly.

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? Everyone says I was dreadful.”

He couldn’t help feeling bad for her. It was rather gutsy of her to do the Quidditch commentary, and he honestly had a near riotous time listening to her. She’d probably caught a lot of flack for it, now that he thought of it. The castle was mostly full of arseholes not worth ten Lunas.

“No, I’m serious! I can’t remember enjoying commentary more!” he declared, hoping she’d know he was in earnest, though he doubted he could convince her if she was predisposed to distrust him. She might be dotty, but she could be as stubborn as Hermione.

Not wanting to argue the point, he decided a distraction was better. Showing interest in something she cared about would be an okay route, he reckoned.

“What is this, by the way?” he asked, holding the onion-like object up to eye level.

“Oh, it’s a Gurdyroot,” she said, stuffing the cat litter and the toadstool back into her bag. Her pale eyes popped wide, and her genuine smile came back. “You can keep it if you like, I’ve got a few of them. They’re really excellent for warding off Gulping Plimpies.”

With that she waltzed away, leaving Ron chortling, still clutching the Gurdyroot.

“You know, she’s grown on me, Luna,” he said, as they set off again for the Great Hall. “I know she’s insane, but it’s in a good —”

His voice stopped along with his feet. All the breath left his chest so suddenly he felt a touch of the dizziness Madam Pomphrey had warned him about.

Lavender was standing at the foot of the marble staircase. She looked in high dudgeon, a barely contained fury emitting from her eyes. Her arms were crossed and he almost expected her to send a flock of canaries his way.

“Hi,” he managed to rasp out.

“C’mon,” Harry muttered to Hermione, and they sped past him, leaving him completely alone and at Lavender’s mercy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting out today? And why was she with you?”

He ambled towards her at a glacial pace partly because he felt like crap, and partly because it gave him time to think.

“I didn’t know I’d be getting out.”

“But somehow she knew?”

“Well you know how Hermione is…” he said in a casual way, hoping to deescalate Lavender’s growing ire.

“Yes. I do know how she is. She’s the type of friend who ignores you for months on end.”

Ron felt his jaw clench. He didn’t care if Lavender was right about Hermione ignoring him, he didn’t like Hermione being sneered about like that.

“Why is she sniffing about you so much now?”

“We made up.”

“You made up?” Lavender quietly asked, her face curiously blank.

“Yeah?” he responded, not sure if he should run (limp) away or let out a relieved sigh at how calm she was being. If it were Hermione he’d have a better idea of where he stood. He knew the little twitches of her brows when she was gearing up for a fight, the sharp look of her eye that meant a lecture was coming his way, and had memorized the way her mouth would purse when she was trying very hard to hold back a laugh.

Lavender was a different sort of readable. She never left him in doubt if she was attracted to him, or admired him, but was annoyingly unreadable when she got angry.

Lavender bit her lip in a way she usually did to flirt, but then something in her expression tightened.

“So what? Now that you and Hermione have made up, she’s more important than me?”

Ron swallowed. In his mind Hermione took precedence over just about everyone, but he couldn’t very well tell Lavender that.

“I was worried sick when you were in the hospital wing!” she continued. “The day it happened no one even thought to tell me you were poisoned. And to make it worse they all shuffled Hermione Granger in there immediately, while I had to find out from the rumor mill! People were asking me if I knew the details and I had to just shake my head like an idiot because no one had told me anything! Do you know how embarrassing it was for me?”

“Well, sorry I embarrassed you with my poisoning!” Ron bit back, a small throb of pain lit through his eye sockets. “Must have been really tough not being the one with all the juicy gossip.”

She gasped and looked terribly close to slapping him. “How could you think that I care about that? It’s about Hermione—”

“I was unconscious! I can’t help who they contacted!”

The pain behind his eyes increased.

“Of course not, but the problem was they didn’t think I was important enough in your life to warrant being told!” she scolded him, making him flinch. She wasn’t far off the mark with that. “And when I finally found out and I visited you I didn’t get to be told everything by the nurse, and have all your friends around to figure out what had happened. They all glared at me like I didn’t belong, and treated me like I was stupid for not knowing everything they’d been told bout your condition. You nearly died and were so pale and unconscious all the time and- and… Do you have any idea how frightening it was to be in the dark about you? How scary it was to see you like that?”

She looked close to tears, and for once instead of panic at the sight Ron felt a hearty dose of shame. He hadn’t thought about how his feigning sleep would affect her. He hadn’t thought at all. All he’d wanted to do was maintain peace with Hermione somehow, and maybe have Lavender just lose interest; instead Lavender had ended up being treated like crap.

“Lav… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he sincerely apologized. The throbbing in his head felt more and more like a spike being hammered.

“The thing is, I can’t exactly stay mad at you for it. It’s not your fault you were hopped up on all those potions and asleep…” she said, rather reasonably, before her look hardened. “But you were plenty awake this morning! Where was my notice today? Why did you tell Hermione you were getting out of the hospital wing, but not me?”

“She was visiting Harry!” Ron spluttered. “She was visiting and we were both just cleared this morning, so she joined up with our group.”

“Oh how very convenient! Now that you’re all made up I guess she thinks she can steal you away, is that it?”

“Steal me— What?” Ron asked, truly perplexed.

“I see the way she looks at you, Ron!” she said, throwing her hands up. “She fancies you!”

The idea of Hermione fancying him was thrilling, but so ludicrous, he felt bitter laughter bubbling up almost immediately. His pulse thundered in his ears.

“Hermione… fancy me?”

“Don’t look so excited about it!”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said, resigned. He’d seen the way she worried over Harry, the way she wrote Krum, the way she even went on that date with Mclaggen. “We’re just friends. She doesn’t fancy me.”

She snorted at this.

“You don’t know a thing about girls, Ron.”

“And don’t I know it,” he said with a sigh, unsure of what to do with Lavender. It wasn’t fair how he’d avoided her in the hospital wing, and to be honest he had no interest in spending time with her now.

“You—” Lavender’s voice broke. “You don’t fancy her, do you?

Ron swallowed.

“No. I don’t fancy her,” he answered.

It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t fancy Hermione. He all out loved her. It went far beyond mere fancying.

“Look. Lavender, I really like you, but maybe we…” Her eyes went wide. “Let’s…”

Break up!

“Let’s get breakfast,” he lamely finished.

What little energy he had was quickly flagging and the spike in his head felt more like the Whomping Willow had nestled inside his skull.

“And where will we sit?”

“Huh?” he asked with squinted eyes.

“I don’t know if you noticed but your friends have been treating me horribly!”

“How’s that?” The room was slightly lilting to the side.

“Well first there was them not telling me you were in the hospital wing, but even now, they skulked off like I have the plague the moment I came over!”

“Well…” he swallowed, trying to center himself. It felt like he was looking through a dusty pair of omnioculars. “They could see you were angry and probably wanted to give us privacy. Plus you made it pretty clear you were ticked at Hermione. Why would anyone want to stick around for that?”

“Well I’m rather ticked at you- are YOU going to run off too?”

“I dunno, maybe! Lavender, what do you want me to say here?” he said, putting his bag down and sitting on a stair step. The cool stone felt so calming he wanted to put his throbbing head on it. He settled for putting his head in his hands. After a moment of keeping his head down, the room seemed to center itself a bit.

“Look, be mad at me if you need to be,” he mumbled to the floor, eyes closed. “That’s fine. Just... I need breakfast. I have a load of potions I have to take and I have to take them with food or it’ll eat clear through my stomach.”

“What!?” she asked, voice going high.

“Please… volume…” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry, Won Won,” she said, voice filled with nothing but concern. He glanced up and saw her face was truly etched with worry, scanning him all over. “I didn’t know you were still on potions. Why is Pomphrey letting you out at all if you’re still so weak?”

“I’m not weak!” He protested, weakly standing and wobbling in place a bit. “I just… I’m supposed to avoid being stressed, and this,” he said gesturing between them, “is stressful.”

“Our relationship is stressful?” she asked. He wanted to respond with a resounding ‘yes!’ so it would all be over already. But her eyes looked too mournful and glistening. He couldn’t have her crying on him. He’d just have to eventually convince her he was no good. That couldn’t be hard! He really was a crap boyfriend and had nothing to offer a girl.

“You know me, I’m just a grumpy arse… Let’s… Let’s just get some food…. We can sit wherever you like, just no more fighting, ok?”

“Alright,” she said, looking at him with an unsure gaze. She stood on a step to kiss him, which he was grateful for. He didn’t think he could stay standing if she pulled him down to her height. Her hands began to dart around to his back and he pulled away, slowly untangling her arms from around him. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m gonna faint if I don’t eat soon,” he exaggerated. Yeah he felt a bit wobbly, but not quite near passing out. After the last week he’d had plenty of experience with that sensation. He was just dizzy enough to lose balance.

“Oh! Well then let’s get you plenty of food!” she said, picking up his bag from the ground.

“You don’t have to carry my bag…”

“I do! You look so awfully weak and peakid!”

“Just what every bloke wants to hear,” he groused, following behind her.

As much as he wanted to sit with Harry and Hermione, he knew he had no choice but to sit with Lavender. He finally had Hermione back as a friend, and Lavender was keeping them apart. What if this made Hermione ditch him again? His stomach felt so queasy at the thought he had trouble eating his breakfast.

That and Lavender had her arm entwined around him have to do everything one handed.

He knew he had to end it. He didn’t love Lavender. He loved Hermione. And until he could somehow stop loving her, he couldn’t bring himself to date another girl.

“Are you sure you’re ok, Ron? You’re not talking? Is it because you’re still—” Lavender dropped her voice to a low whisper. “Brain damaged.”

“No!” Ron insisted, looking about to make sure no one over heard. He glanced down the table to see Hermione quietly smiling at him and raising a glass his way. He quirked his brows and gave her a smile back.

“Why are you smiling at her?” Lavender asked, giving Hermione a potent glare.

Ron slowly extricated his arm from her hold. “Look, Lav. We’re friends again. You’re going to have to get used to that.”

Lavender’s jaw clenched and unclenched, but she said nothing else on the matter. It helped that Parvati chose that moment to sit at the table. The two best friends were able to entertain each other with the latest gossip, and Ron gratefully didn’t have to talk the rest of the meal. Both arms free he finished his meal then discreetly chugged one of his potions the moment he was done.

He looked down the table again. For just a moment he caught Hermione looking at him. Her eyes quickly slid away from him and a small smile tugged at her mouth.

That tiny smirk was enough to fuel Ron through the rest of the day.

He needed that fuel. His body was still in a state of lethargy he couldn’t escape, which made him even easier prey for Lavender. She kept seizing his arm so firmly in classes and tense meals he wasn’t sure he’d have full feeling in it again until summer.

That evening he made up his mind he had to end things with her. It wasn’t right to date her when he wasn’t interested and Hermione preoccupied his every thought.

Before breakfast she’d sought him out in the Common Room. He gave a deep sigh, using his hands on his knees to help him rise from the sofa.

“Hey Lav, we need to talk.”

“Okay, let’s do that at breakfast,” she said, putting her arm around his and leaning in to kiss him. He turned his head and her lips grazed the corner of his lips instead.

“No, I think we should do this more privately.”

“I don’t have time to snog, I have to finish a dream journal for Trelawney,” she said, leading him towards the portrait hole.

“I’m not asking to snog! I need to talk to you and—”

“Oh look, there’s Parvati!” Lavender said, giving her friend a wave and taking out her journal with one hand while the other held tight around his elbow. “How did you format the imagery meaning part for your journal? I had everything listed at the top then in the description of the dream detailed out—”

Ron stopped listening, and instead let his body be dragged to the Hall. He couldn’t very well ditch her in front of her best friend and the rest of the school.

It continued like this through the week. He would try to entreat her to talk, she’d just kiss him and bodily drag him places where people were about.

On Thursday evening they were finally alone in the hall. Here was his chance.

“Look Lav, I think it’s best if we take some time—”

“I know,” she said, leaning up and kissing him. Her grip was too tight, and her kiss uncomfortably bruising. “I know I’ve been really busy and unable to prioritize us. Maybe we can have a date soon and take the time we need.”

“No— I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, Won-Won,” she said, with a tight smile. “I’ve been so stressed with everything. My classes have been so busy and I wasn’t able to do much when you were in the hospital wing I was so upset. I have a lot of makeup work. It’s nice that we can at least be together a bit like this, you know?”

Unable to think of anything to say, she took his silence as an opportunity to give him a much more gentle kiss. He gave up trying to ditch her the rest of the day.

It was miserable.

The rest of the week Ron survived on little smiles from Hermione and his potions Pomphrey kept supplying him with. By the time he’d extricated himself from Lavender for any meaningful amount of time it was the end of the week.

Just past dinner, the whole common room was abuzz.

Harry and Hermione were standing together near the crowd of students.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked Harry, feeling properly wobbly after walking up seven flights of stairs.

“They’ve announced the date for the Apparition test,” Harry said pointing to a sign on the notice board. Most of the students had to elbow past one another to read the sign, but all Ron had to do was stand on his toes.

“Oh no-no-no-no-no,” Ron muttered, hand going to his hair as he counted the days until the April test. There was hardly any time at all. “Oh, this is a disaster!”

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, standing beside him. She was looking at him and not the sign.

“I’m fine,” he said under his breath, giving her hand a small squeeze. It was so much smaller than his, and rather cold. He knew he should let go of it, but he didn’t want to.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“I’ve missed so many lessons, and I’ve not Apparated properly yet!”

“It shouldn’t be so bad,” Hermione replied soothingly. She let go of his hand to sit on the sofa next to the fireplace.

“Maybe not for you or Harry, but there’s no way I’ll be ready in time!” Ron replied, throwing himself beside her with a defeated thud.

“I can’t take the test whether I’m ready or not,” said Harry.

“At least you can Apparate, though! You’ll have no trouble come July!” said Ron, adding the last bit to boost his friend.

“I’ve only done it once,” he replied with a shrug.

“Well once is better than none. You’ll smash it,” Ron said, putting his head back on the couch.

“Why don’t we forget about Apparition for the time being. You have some work you need to knock out, right?” Hermione asked, little cool hand going to his again.

He closed his eyes, head splitting, and held it fast. “Yeah… Yeah in a moment. I’m just tired.”

Surprisingly Hermione did not push. Instead she talked with Harry about the Defence essay they each had finished days ago, while Ron hadn’t even been there for the lesson explaining it. His friends’ discussion led to a small row about the Half-Blood Prince and that bloody potions book again.

That was motivation enough to pick up his quill and start working on the essay. At least if he was dizzily doing an assignment he could somewhat tune out their arguing.

The assignment was ruthless with so many hoops to jump through that Ron felt like a lion in a circus act. Merlin his brain felt like a ball of wax that had been smashed in saw dust. He had one of Fred and George’s spell-check quills to help, but the task was made even harder when his friends were starting to snarl at each other.

“None of that matters, Hermione! Slughorn’s memory is what’s most important,” Harry barked, eyes scanning the battered book. “So I’m using everything I can to help!”

“I’m telling you, the stupid Prince isn’t going to be able to help you with this, Harry!” said Hermione, more loudly. “There’s only one way to force someone to do what you want, and that’s the Imperius Curse, which is illegal —”

“Yeah, I know that, thanks,” said Harry, not looking up from the book. “That’s why I’m looking for something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum won’t do it, but there might be something else, a potion or a spell. ...”

Ron stared at his paper. Was it just him, or was everything off? It was probably just him, but it felt like his letters were moving across the page and not spelled right at all? Considering a week ago he couldn’t write his own name, he was doing alright, but… Surely that wasn’t how one spelled belligerent! He was achingly tired and his hands were starting to shake.

“You’re going about it the wrong way,” Hermione badgered Harry. “Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where other people can’t. It’s not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that —”

“How d’you spell ‘belligerent’?” Ron interrupted, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. “It can’t be B — U — M —”

Hermione’s scowl immediately melted, and her brow creased with worry.

“No, it isn’t,” said Hermione, as she pulled his essay toward her. “And ‘augury’ doesn’t begin O — R — G either.”

O — R —- G…. Like orgy? Oh no…

“What kind of quill are you using?” she asked.

“It’s one of Fred and George’s Spell-Check ones … but I think the charm must be wearing off. ...”

“Yes, it must,” said Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay, “because we were asked how we’d deal with dementors, not ‘Dugbogs,’ and I don’t remember you changing your name to ‘Roonil Wazlib’ either.”

“Ah no!” moaned Ron, horror grating his brain to mush. He honestly wanted to cry. His hands were shaking, his head was hurting, and now… “Don’t say I’ll have to write the whole thing out again!”

“It’s okay, we can fix it,” said Hermione in a gentle tone. She took out her wand in a manner that assured him, no matter what, things would be okay.

“I love you, Hermione,” said Ron, sinking back in his chair, and rubbing at his stinging eyes. He’d never been more grateful.

“Don’t let Lavender hear you saying that,” she quietly replied.

“I won’t,” said Ron into his hands, pressing the palms into his eye sockets hoping for some relief. “Or maybe I will ... then she’ll ditch me ...”

“Why don’t you ditch her if you want to finish it?” asked Harry.

Ron let out a mirthless laugh.

“You haven’t ever chucked anyone, have you? You and Cho just —”

“Sort of fell apart, yeah,” said Harry

“Wish that would happen with me and Lavender,” said Ron. If she did maybe he could have the tiniest of shots with Hermione. Despite everything they’d been through, she was by his side again. She silently tapped each of his misspelled words with the end of her wand so that they corrected themselves on the page.

“But the more I hint I want to finish it,” Ron continued, “the tighter she holds on. It’s like going out with the giant squid.”

Harry gave him a look of sympathy but was quickly pulled into feverishly reading the Half-Blood Prince’s notes.

This gave Ron the perfect opportunity to silently watch Hermione. The firelight created a little halo effect as it bounced off her frizzy curls. He wished he could stroke them. He’d gotten to feel her hair a few times— he’d expected it to be coarse given how voluminous it was, but somehow it was soft and bounced back from his pats in a hypnotizing way.

Hermione cricked her neck, but doggedly kept working on correcting the letters of his essay.

Watching Hermione was always fun— like when she pattered around the library carrying too many books, or bending over to lay out her notes on the ground. His favorite was when she was doing anything mildly academic though. She’d squint in concentration with an expression that made her intelligence seem to beam out and smack Ron right in the heart.

Were smarts supposed to be a turn-on? Ron had never heard anyone talk about a girl’s smarts when bragging about a girl. It tended to be more about what happened below the neck— which was confounding. It’s not that Ron didn’t find all of Hermione attractive— he’d had to stop himself from staring at her legs and bum and down her shirt a few times over the years, not to mention imagining all the things those lips and hands could get up to. But the flash of intelligence in her brown eyes? The way she could perform spells and spout off about some obscure little historical factoid no one else found interesting left him wanting to snog her senseless. Of course, he felt the same when she was barmy and knitting caps for elves, so his standards for attraction were obviously skewed toward the strange.

“There,” said Hermione, some twenty minutes later, handing back his essay.

“Thanks a million,” said Ron, having to hold himself back from embracing her in front of Harry. “Can I borrow your quill for the conclusion?”

As she handed the quill over, their fingers brushed sending a little spark to somewhere in his middle. Yup, he was dead gone.

[END OF CHAPTER 6]

AUTHOR’S NOTE  Sorry for the long wait, but hopefully you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, please let me know by reblogging or commenting! :) 

[twstgabrielle]

Mr. Hollywood

Warning: This fic contains alcohol, smoking, some mature sexy moments, a bit of harrassment, and drunken one night stands. If you're uncomfortable with these things I highly encourage y'all to check out my other works.

Mr. Hollywood, won't you come back soon?~ She said, "Mr. Hollywood, won't you come back soon?"~ She said, "Mr. Hollywood, won't you come back soon?" (ayy, ayy)~ She said, "Mr. Hollywood, won't you come back soon?" (ayy, ayy)~ She said~

Your mother had always warned you about being cautious around men. Telling you to keep your heart close to you and to be careful with who you gave it to.

'You don't want to give it to a man who'll only break it (Y/N). Nothing hurts more than to give it away and to have it treated poorly.'

She'd always say to you, always to try and spare you from the heartaches of love. And you always took those words to heart, always cautious and careful. For years you kept men at a distance, afraid of the consequences of acting foolishly. And it'd worked rather well. You kept your heart safe from the heartbreak of love. However like many things in life, there were times when no matter how hard you tried all of your efforts would be in vain. And like many before you, you were unprepared for it. It'd been a late night in the city that you lived in, the lights and neon signs painting the town in a array of colors. Night owls roamed the streets, either to go out and party or do other things. It was on a night such as this that you'd found yourself going to the local bar, wanting nothing more than to get a drink and let lose. The day had been horrendous for you, full of your boss shouting at you and your coworkers being an even bigger pain than the usually were.

So from the moment you got off of work you beelined for the nearest bar, work clothes be damned. Hurrying down the sidewalk full of fellow night people you finally came to the place you desperately wanted to be. With little to zero hesitation you pushed open the door to the bar, your heels clicking against the hard floor. The bar was crowded with people who wanted a drink or hook up with someone for the night. Cigarette smoke clung to the air and the slight scent of several bodies in a somewhat warm area hit your face. Yet you paid none of it any mind, practically flying towards the bar and its stools. Grabbing a seat you collapsed into it, a low sigh of exhaustion coming from you. The bartender gave you a look, taking in your appearance of your wrinkled work uniform and your hair falling out of the style you had it in.

"What can I get cha?"

The bartender asked his tone gruff. You pulled out your wallet and grabbed a couple of bills and slamming them down on the counter.

"Whatever you have that's the strongest. I don't care just anything will do."

You said not even caring about how you sounded like an alcoholic. The bartender took the money and went to the vast shelf to go get your drink while you waited patiently for it. With a small look you saw the bartender get called over by another customer and bit back the frustrated noise that wanted to come out. You knew that getting pissed at the bartender for doing his job was rather stupid so to distract yourself from your frustrations you pulled out your cellphone and began to scroll through your social media accounts. You were so distracted with your scrolling you didn't notice the man who sat himself down next to you.

"Hey sweetheart, I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all by yourself."

A voice cocky and flirtatious spoke up next to you. You jumped at the voice turning your (E/C) hues towards him. The man looked like he was at least in his late fifties, with a balding head and a gross kind of smile. You stared at him, unamused by his greeting.

"Good for you. Now if you would please leave I'd like to keep it that way."

You said softly, tone professional like. You were so not in the mood for this kind of thing. The man gave you a small look before trying again.

"Aw sugar surely you don't mean that. After all a lovely lady such as yourself shouldn't be alone on a Friday night."

He said persistent. You felt your eyebrow twitch, the exhaustion and rising irritation of the day hitting you and wearing on your patience.

"Look sir, I would really appreciate it if you would just leave me alone. I'm not in the mood to talk to you nor am I in the mood to flirt or whatever else you wanna do. So please kindly buzz off."

You said your tone full of irritation. The man looked at you, the cocky smirk he'd been wearing falling off of his face. His eyes narrowed in anger and he quickly grabbed your arm making you stiffen up in shock.

"Listen here you little-"

He began to growl his lips pulled up into a sneer when a hand gripped the man's shoulder and a cold tone chimed in.

"Hey pal, you heard the lady. She said bug off. Now let go of her or you're not gonna like what I do next."

A man much younger than the one harassing you said. The older man turned his attention towards the other his eyes glaring.

"Oh yeah what are you gonna do about it-?"

The creep snarled before going silent as he looked towards the man's coat. You couldn't see what was happening but whatever he saw had made him let go of you and quickly turn tail muttering under his breath. Watching him disappear you finally turned your attention to your savior.

"You alright miss?"

He asked you. You nodded offering a tired smile.

"Yeah I'm alright. Thank you for helping me out with that. I really wasn't in the mood for it."

You said softly. Your savior gave you a nod seemingly satisfied that you were alright.

"You mind if I sit here? I could really go for a drink after that encounter."

He said gesturing to the now empty seat next to you. Giving him a much more sincere smile you gestured for him to sit.

"Go right ahead and be my guest Mr.....?"

You asked trailing off. Your savior sat himself down on the stool and tipped his hat slightly upwards to meet your gaze.

"Jigen. You can call me Jigen, and can I get a name from you?"

The man Jigen asked earning a small amused look from you.

"(Y/N), my name's (Y/N)."

Ooh, I just wanna lay right by your side~ We don't gotta love each other right~ We just gotta make it through the night~ You don't gotta say~ You're not into me no more~ When we pass out on the floor~ See the sun rise through the door~

After the introductions you and Jigen talked as you waited for your drinks. You quickly came to realize that Jigen was a rather strange yet dry man. He was wearing a suit and a hat that covered his dark eyes that you'd only caught a glimpse of. A beard grew on his face and his hair was dark and shaggy yet it seemed to suit him. Jigen made a few sarcastic remarks here and there earning a bit of laughter from you. As you talked and got your drinks you came to learn more about your mysterious savior. He did odd jobs for a living and traveled a lot, he was a few years older than you, at least in his late twenties or early thirties. He was a smoker and he liked to drink though he didn't really like being in crowded areas. He was sarcastic and charming in a weird rugged way and incredibly smart. And in return you told him about yourself. You told him about your job at your office and the things you liked and disliked.

With each word exchanged between the two of you the more at ease you both felt with one another. Laughing and joking and conversing while you drank through your drinks like the two of you knew each other for years. Before you even realized it hours had passed and you were more than a little bit tipsy. Jigen wasn't much better off, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and warmth in the bar.

"Ya know? This day was absolutely terrible, like.....like downright awful. But now.....now I don't think it was all that bad."

You said your voice slurred a bit. The alcohol had made you a little bit more honest than you usually were, making your thoughts hazy and your guard lowered. Jigen gave you a look, his dark brown eyes staring into your own (E/C) ones curiously.

"Oh? And what exactly made it not so bad?"

He asked his own voice slurred as well. You couldn't help but feel your breath hitch slightly as you answered his question.

"You."

You said softly sincere and hesitant. Jigen seemed to go still next to you, making you feel anxious and stupid all of a sudden.

'Why would you say that (Y/N)?? You just met the guy and now you're saying things like that?? God what is wrong with you???'

You mentally berated yourself feeling embarrassed by your words.

"Haha I'm just kidding, I mean that would be really weird-"

You began to ramble slightly to try and do damage control when you felt a gentle but rough hand place itself on top of yours. You felt your cheeks burn as you snapped your attention to Jigen. The man was looking at you, his eyes which had been hidden for most of your conversation was now staring at you. His eyes held an unreadable look, yet they weren't full of anything that was unkind. Squeezing your hand Jigen spoke.

"If that's weird then it's probably weird that I'm kinda glad I'd made your crummy day better."

He said his gruff voice low and honest. You felt your heart skip at the naked honesty he'd shown you. You felt yourself squeeze his hand back gently, your mind fuzzy and your chest tight and warm. It was a feeling you'd never experienced before, so foreign and new but oh so addictive in a way. Without thinking about it you went with what your heart was saying.

"I see.......then I guess we're both weirdos. Since we're being weird would.....would you maybe like to possibly......accompany me home......?"

You asked shy and nervous despite the alcohol in your system. Jigen seemed to stop functioning, a dark look flashing in his gaze and you couldn't help but shiver at it.

"Let me pay and we'll head out."

By the way you move, I know you want me to~ Tell you all the rules, I know I'm searching too~ Give me all your clues and things to guide me through~ The end of the world, the end of the world~ Don't blow out the fuse when darkness comes to light~ So much I could do to make you come to life~ Fingers coming loose, I see there's no more time~ Don't tell me I'm gone, don't tell me I'm gone~

It didn't take long for Jigen to pay for your drinks before the two of you made your way out of the bar and into the chilly night. You and Jigen stumbled a bit on the walk to your place, you clinging to his arm and him keeping a firm arm around your waist. The sounds of you and his drunken laughter and soft whispers filled the night, the streetlights shining down upon the two of you. In an almost dreamlike manner the two of you finally made it to your place. Digging around in your purse you pulled out your keys and tried to unlock the door. After a few failed attempts you finally managed to get the keys in and unlock the door. Pushing it open you grabbed Jigen by his arm and pulled him inside with you. As soon as the front door was shut the two of you were on each other. Your lips met his in a drunken, lustful kiss. Your fingers laced themselves into his thick hair and his arms wrapped themselves around your waist pulling you closer to him. Stumbling through the living room the two of you barely separated from each other, exchanging kisses and touching wherever your hands could touch.

Jigen pulled away from you, his eyes dark and full of want as he looked at you. You felt your skin prickle a bit at the heated gaze, your heart pounding loudly in your chest and ears. Leaning down so his mouth was close to your ear he spoke, soft and low.

"Are you sure you want to do this (Y/N)?"

He asked his tone soft and questioning. You felt your heart swell at his question, a fuzzy bubbling warmth of emotion rising up. This was the time when you and him could leave it at the heated kisses, but something deep within you didn't want to stop. You wanted Jigen, you wanted all of him even if it was only for the night. Giving consent you nodded and answered.

"I want it, I want you Jigen please..."

You spoke voice full of desire and sincerity. That was all he needed to know and his lips were once again kissing yours, trailing down to your neck. You gasped and clung to him.

"Jigen.....bedroom first door in the hallway......"

You breathed as you melted into a puddle. Jigen picked you up making your legs wrap around his waist. With stumbling steps he made his way towards the room. After that the rest of the night was a rush of lust and sensations, of kisses and heated looks of want and desire. Of touches and nips and breathless cries of carnal actions before collapsing into the pillows and sheets in a blissful sleep wrapped up in each other's arms.

She said, "Mr. Hollywood, won't you come back soon?" (ayy, ayy)~ She said, "Mr. Hollywood, won't you come back soon?" (ayy, ayy)~ She said~ Ooh, I just wanna lay right by your side~ We don't gotta love each other right~ We just gotta make it through the night~ You don't gotta say~ You're not into me no more~ When we pass out on the floor~ See the sun rise through the door~

You woke up to the sunrise and it's pale rays. Your head hurt slightly and your body ached in a pleasant way. Blinking sleepily you looked around and saw that the other side of your bed, empty and turning cold. Sitting up you couldn't help but feel your heart sink at the sight of the empty space. You had been hoping that perhaps Jigen would still be there with you but alas it appeared that he'd left earlier that morning. Clinging to the sheets slightly you recalled the time spent together last night. You could see the look in his eyes as the two of you mingled, the look of desire and another emotion that you couldn't identify. You felt your heart stutter in your chest as a sudden feeling of sorrow hit you. You had known that Jigen would only be there for the night, that the time you two had together would come to an end. You had known this and accepted it, letting him have all of you and you taking all of him. What you hadn't expected was this sudden painful ache in your chest.

It felt as if your heart was tearing itself apart, as if a piece of it was now missing. Your throat began to close slightly and tears began to burn at your eyes. To your confusion you felt them begin to overflow and slide down your cheeks. Wiping at them uselessly you tried to figure out why you were feeling like this. Tried to figure out why your heart and soul felt as if it was missing something important. As you cried your silent tears you froze as you came to a possible conclusion that you didn't dare want to believe. The heartache, the tears, the sudden feeling of emptiness and sorrow. All of these were from one thing, all of them the consequence of the very thing you'd been warned about since you were young.

In the span of one night, you'd given your heart to Jigen.

You'd developed feelings for him.

You let out a loud pained mixture of a laugh and a sob as the truth finally hit you. After all of your efforts, after all your precautions when it came to your heart you'd still in the end had done the very thing you'd desperately tried to avoid. You'd carelessly given away your heart to a man who in return shattered it. The very thing your mother had warned you about and tried to prevent, only for it all to be in vain. As you began to drown in your heartbreak you couldn't help but feel foolish. You'd let your guard down, had let your heart be put out there and like a thief in the night Jigen had taken it and in a way ruined you. And the thing that made it even worse was that you didn't mind that Jigen had stolen your heart. If there was anyone that you'd choose to take it, it would be Jigen.

If only he felt the same way as you did.

Now you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

~~~~~

Jigen stared out into the sunrise, his chest empty and full of regrets. The gunman had just left your place before the sun even broke over the horizon, his heart heavy as he left you behind. Jigen hadn't meant to get so attached to you in the span of a night but he had. Like a moth to a flame he allowed himself to be drawn in by you. You with your shy and beautiful smile, you with your chiming laughter, you with your sparkling eyes and kind heart. You with your quick wit and sarcastic humor. Jigen bit back the wave of heartache that hit him as he thought about you. Last night had been the most magical night that he'd had in a very long time. He could still see you in the dark bedroom, your eyes dark and full of desire, your lips swollen from all the kisses and your neck covered in bite marks......

The gunman shook his head, pulling his hat further over his face. Spending the night with you had been amazing. It'd had been full of passion and want. It'd made his heart pound and his soul sing as the two of you touched. He could still feel the magnetic current that had sparked to life with every touch and kiss.

It had been beautiful.

It had been freeing.

It had made him feel alive, like he could finally breathe properly for the first time in his life.

And it was exactly why he had to leave. In his long life Jigen had learned the hard way that feeling that way towards a woman could only end in tragedy. Especially given his past occupation and his current one. Jigen being romantically involved with someone was always bound to end in either betrayal or death. It was rare for him and his lovers to come out of things unscathed and it was because of this that he left you. He couldn't bare the thought of you facing the same fate as so many others had faced when he loved them. Plus there was another reason that made him leave you. Because even if Jigen was willing to risk your life for this, (which he wasn't) there was no way he'd be able to give you a life that was normal.

Because Jigen was a criminal, specifically the partner of the world famous thief Lupin the Third. Also known as his best friend.

That alone killed any chances of him having something with you. So with a heavy heart that screamed at him Jigen left. He left so you could be safe. And even if it was killing him he wouldn't regret it, just as he wouldn't regret being with you. Even if it had only been a night he'd never regret it. If given the chance Jigen would do it all, all over again. As the gunman watched the sunrise he couldn't help but think about of the irony of his whole situation. Jigen a criminal and thief had, had his heart unknowingly stolen by you. It was funny in a rather ironic way. Reaching into his suit Jigen pulled out a cigarette and lit it before making his way back to the hideout where Lupin and Goemon and possibly Fujiko would be waiting for him to plan the heist for the day. As he turned his back from the sunrise Jigen took one last glance towards the direction where your home was. He could picture it, you laying in your bed covered in your sheets fast asleep.

'This is for the best.....for both of us.'

He told himself tearing his eyes away.

'But is it really.....?'

The thought whispered traitorously in his head. The gunman scoffed not bothering to answer his mental question, knowing that deep down he wanted nothing more than to go back to your side. But those desires weren't in his cards, no matter how much he wanted them to be. With an almost forced will Jigen continued on his way not looking back and leaving his heart with you.

By the way you move, I know you want me to~ Tell you all the rules, I know I'm searching too~ Give me all your clues and things to guide me through~ The end of the world, the end of the world~

*Nani??? A fanfic that isn't Hetalia this time?????? You bet your cute ass it is!!!! So I've been getting into Lupin the Third a lot lately and I may or may not have gotten quite fond of Jigen (coughJigenmybelovedcough). So I decided to go with him as my first attempt at writing something for this series. To be honest I was heavily influenced by the song Mr. Hollywood by Joji. It's a good song that has a somewhat bittersweet vibe to it. I'd highly recommend listening to it it's so good. I also apologize in advance if Jigen is kinda weird I'm still trying to get a feel for him as a character sgsgsgdgf. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!*

[amesstm]

short s/o

Characters: Ushijima, Sakusa, Tsukki, Atsumu, Osamu, Kuroo, Bokuto

HQ masterlist

a/n: dedicated to all the shorties out there lol. Might make a tall s/o head cannon but I’m only above my national average by like two inches so I’m not exactly sure about that type of experience

✨Ushijima✨ doesn’t openly say it, but he adores how small you are compared to him. He secretly keeps putting things on the top shelf because he wants you to ask him for help. “Ushi, do you mind getting the cookies for me? They’re really tall,” you pout as you point above you. It’s surprising that you haven’t caught onto his inconveniencing of you yet. Or maybe you think that he puts it up there without a single thought because he’s used to it. He wordlessly provides you with the cookies but he’s really screaming on the inside. “Thank you, love!” You grin, once again making him lose his breath. “Do you want me to get anything else for you?” “Oh, it’s fine! I can reach the milk in the fridge haha,” you say, just a moment before Ushijima suddenly moves the milk on TOP of the shelf. You two simply stare at each other, with him waiting for you to ask for his help and you waiting for him to use a braincell. “Never mind, I can live without it.” Ushijima quickly pours you a glass before you leave the kitchen.

✨Sakusa✨ does the opposite of Ushijima, by putting things lower than they should be so he can ask you for help. While he may be prideful in other aspects of his life, he has no shame asking you to get the cleaning supplies - that he mostly uses - from the bottom shelf closest to the floor. For one thing, it’s an easy conversation starter if you happen to be upset with him. The other is that he also enjoys seeing you lean over like that. Is he ashamed? Nope. “Germ, do you mind getting the Mr. Clean sponges for me?” He asks as he pops his head into the living room. Even though you sigh, you still get up to go into the bathroom, “Why do you even put them down here?” “Because it’s the most convenient,” he reasons with literally no reason. Unlike with Ushijima, you totally understand what he’s getting at. Did you entertain him just a bit before leaving? Unashamedly.

✨Tsukki✨ is a mean tease every time you complain about being too short to get some things. “Ugh,” you pout, “Kei, can you get this shirt for me? It’s too tall.” After a good minute of embarrassing yourself in the store, -because gosh darn it the shirts were placed too high for you to reach- Kei only smirks at you. His shoulders shake a bit because he wants to control his laughter. “If only you were tall enough to get it,” he says before walking away. You grip onto his wrist with a terrifyingly sweet smile, “My temper is as short as I am right now, so you better get it for me you freaking tree.” When did his sweet little girlfriend become so scary? For the rest of the day doing errands, he’s an obedient and quiet Tsukki. If only Yamaguchi were here to witness this historic moment.

✨Atsumu✨ admires how long his jersey is on you as you give him a twirl before the big game. “Ya look absolutely adorable,” he grinned with pride. Did you steal a spare jersey of his just to show your support? You considered it borrowing, but Atsumu thought that you ought to keep it if he never needed it again. Although it looked like a normal jersey on him, it was the equivalent of a dress on you as it reached your mid thigh. “Oh shush, it’s just because it looks big on me,” you scold but blush nonetheless. He laughed like a five-year-old, “Exactly!” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, deciding that he needed this to calm his nerves before his starting serve. “Just make sure I’m not wearing your jersey for no reason,” you start. Then you remembered something, “Don’t kill any fans if they talk during your serve!” He smirked as he looked behind you one last time, “No promises on that one, sweetheart.”

✨Osamu✨ loves when you hug him from behind in the morning as he cooks breakfast. His heart flutters and he feels all warm inside when you rub your cheeks against his back. “Good mornin’, doll,” he softly says with his low morning low. He could feel you smile as you said, “I wondered why I woke up alone in bed, but this is a pleasant surprise.” “What else would I be doing besides be with you or cook?” Your shrug was the only response as you rested on his body before moving to sit on the counter. “The usual?” He asked as he broke an egg in one hand. It was true love that he knew how he liked your eggs in the morning. You grinned, “Of course, love.” You two kissed, with you finally not having to tilt your head upwards to meet his face.

✨Kuroo✨ is a nice tease. He watches you struggle to reach for the top shelf in the grocery store because your favorite candy was up there. “Having trouble, kitten?” He asks with a sly grin on his face. Stubborn as always to prove that you didn’t need your tall boyfriend to get something, you put on a slightly pained smile, “Everything is perfectly fine!” He decides that he’ll wait another minute because that’s when you examine how to climb up the shelf. Using a shopping cart to add a few more centimeters, you finally retrieved your candy. With a loud laugh, Kuroo cheers for you, “Good job! This time it only took two minutes!” It may be cruel to watch you struggle, but you were happy that he didn’t think you were incapable just because you were shorter than he was.

✨Bokuto✨ notices how you frowned because you were unable to see the festival display from the large crowd around it. So, he decides to place you onto his shoulders. Now, you understood why he endearingly called you ‘little owl’ because from his perspective you definitely were. Finally, you were able to see the display and it was amazing. Later, you were still thinking about that moment, “Do you think that I can be on your shoulders more often?” “Huh? Why?” He asks, tilting his head as he looked down on you. “I like being tall,” you declared and gave him your arms to show that you wanted to be lifted once more. You two were absolutely made for each other, because you were able to stay that way for the rest of the night with the same wild energy you both had when you arrived.

[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt AU: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

PART 6: Age 18 

“California is pretty far away,” Percy says softly into the night as Annabeth lays on the rooftop by his side. He hears her shift so that she can look at him, and he mirrors her, looking at his reflection in her pale eyes. 

“2914.9 miles,” she answers. 

“You really had to choose the farthest college from me didn’t you?”

Annabeth snorts and shakes her head. 

“Yes Percy, I chose it purely because it’s the furthest from you in particular.” He pouts and pushes himself up on an elbow so he can look down at her. 

“Why are you leaving me?”

“I’m not just leaving you Perce, I’m leaving everyone else as well. My Dad, my brothers, Thals, Grover...not just you.” Her face shifts and he sees sadness replace her joking smirk. 

“Yeah but I’m special...I’m your favourite.” Percy is half-joking but he wishes with all his heart that the first part of his sentence is true, that he is in fact special to Annabeth. Special in the same way that Annabeth is special to him. 

“Don’t let Thals hear that,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes but Percy leans in closer, poking her repeatedly until she’s laughing. 

“You’re only saying that because it’s true.”

“Shut up.” Percy notices how she doesn’t deny it and it brings a smile to his face. 

 “I’m going to miss you.” His heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze as his voice softens and his smile drops. Annabeth gives him a sad look and pokes his chest trying to get him to look at her properly. 

“Don’t get all sappy on me now Seaweed Brain, we’ve still got summer.”

“And then you leave and forget me, and find a cool Perry Johnson to be your new best friend.” He says and dramatically throws his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like he’s about to faint. 

Annabeth groans and pushes him away so he falls back on the blanket they’ve laid out. The other two aren’t due to arrive for another hour, but Percy has been spending so much time at Annabeth’s house already, that it made no sense to go back to his last night, so he stayed over and helped set up the apartment rooftop for their sleepover under the stars. 

He thinks they’ve done a pretty good job for the two of them, there’s an array of pillows, blankets and sheets all over the floor, and plenty of snacks to last them through the night. A couple of years ago, way back when they were younger, Mr Chase set up fairy lights along the edge of the roof, so they’re not in complete darkness, not that New York can ever be truly dark. The lights illuminate Annabeth’s features as Percy turns his head to her, she looks like a goddess and Percy swallows deeply when she returns his stare. 

“What are you looking at?”

Percy shrugs and sits up so he can rearrange snacks that don’t need rearranging to hide his blush at being caught. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot! Can you sign this, you never did?” Annabeth says changing the subject and tugs on his arm so he can come back and sit with her. 

He looks at her confused until she brings out her yearbook. Their school emblem shines on the front cover, and she places it in his lap, pressing herself to his side, so she can flip the pages, looking for an empty space to write. On the back, there’s an entire blank page and she smooths the paper down and hands him a marker. 

“All yours.” She says and watches him expectantly. 

“Are you going to watch me write in it?” He twirls the pen uneasily and rubs the back of his neck, slightly uncomfortable under her intense gaze. 

Annabeth huffs. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“Can you?” He asks half-jokingly. 

“You’re such an idiot. Fine. I’ll go check if there’s anything we forgot downstairs. Do you want anything?” He grins as she shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed. 

“Anything blue.”

“Of course,” she mutters and gets up, using his shoulder to steady herself. He leans into the touch and tries to ignore the way his body misses her warmth when she leaves.  

When she leaves Percy flips back to the front, reliving their senior year, one page at a time. He skips past the photos of the people in his grade and goes straight to the events. It starts with homecoming, and there’s a photo of Percy, Annabeth, Grover and Thalia all dressed in black suits. Percy smiles fondly at the close-up photo of Thalia and Annabeth posing together, in matching suits and corsets. Since Thalia broke up with Luke, she’s reintegrated back into the group with no issue, and it’s like she never left. 

He turns the page, skipping through the other homecoming photos, and pauses at the one of him and Annabeth. It’s a candid, and even though he’s already seen it, his heart still stutters, because in the photo she’s fixing his hair in the photo right before the official photos like she always does, and Percy can’t help but think about how much they look like a couple. 

He keeps turning through the pages, trying to find more photos of their group. They’re not a very social group, preferring to hang out with each other than go to school events, but they’re at all the major ones. 

There are small snippets of them at the football games, student fairs and pep rallies, it’s not till the end where there are photos that focus more on students not part of clubs that he sees more pictures of his friends. 

There’s one of them all laying on their back enjoying the sun looking up at clouds the way they used to when they were kids (completely unaware that someone is taking photos of them). There’s even a photo of Grover with Thalia on his shoulder as she tries to climb a tree with toilet paper in her hand from prank day. The next one is a blurry photo of Percy completely wrapped in toilet paper and chasing Annabeth. 

Moments from their senior year have been captured and immortalised in these pages, and Percy’s heart heaves at the thought of leaving this all behind or watching people leave. 

Tears start to prick at his eyes as he reaches the graduation and prom photos. There’s a huge shot of his entire grade, a choice of a few students throwing their caps up. In the corner on the page before the prom photos, there's a small snapshot of the four of them, their arms thrown around each other, heads pressed together. He remembers this moment vividly. All of their names are relatively close together in the roll, so as soon as they were announced, he had bolted straight to Grover, who had bolted to Thalia, who had bolted to Annabeth, and they had all ended up screaming and jumping into each other's arms. 

He’s going to miss this. 

He finally comes to the prom photos, and he’s not surprised when his breath catches in his throat when he sees Annabeth in her prom dress again. It’s a deep blue, the colour of the sky above his head, and it makes his stomach flutter each time he sees it. In the photo, she’s posing with Thalia again, but she’s mid-laugh and Percy would be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favourite photos of her. He has copies of photos from the night on his computer, but the ones taken at the venue are better quality, it’s almost like he’s back there in the moment. 

Thalia had come with a date, once again wearing a tight-fitting suit, a girl on her arm and Grover had brought Juniper, his girlfriend. Percy and Annabeth had agreed to go together, just because it was easier. 

“Platonically,” he remembers telling Grover. He remembers Grover laughing and shaking his head. 

“There is nothing platonic about you two but okay. Have fun, Perce.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grover had never explained what he meant and it still haunted Percy. 

There isn’t a photo of the two of them at prom together, at least not in the yearbook, but he asked for a favour from a friend in the yearbook committee and has the photos that didn’t make it on a USB drive back home. His favourite is his wallpaper, and it’s of him and Annabeth dancing their heads bent close together. It’s not obvious it’s them two but he can recognise her blonde hair anywhere. That’s another moment he holds close, them dancing and swaying to a song they don’t recognise, whispering to each other in the night. He’d almost told her that night. Told her everything, about what he felt, about how he would always feel, but when she let go, he realised that he didn’t want to risk losing what they had. It was too precious to him. 

Percy finally reaches the page that Annabeth initially brought him to and he uncaps the pen, tapping the back of it against the page a couple of times trying to think of a message. It’s not an accident that he didn’t write in Annabeth’s yearbook. When they were all doing it, Percy had purposefully avoided her because he knew that what he had to say to her couldn’t be said like this. 

He sighs as he begins a doodle instead. A little owl because he knows that they’re her favourite, and a dolphin because they’re his. His mind is still blank at what to write to her, but he knows she’s not going to let him get away with not doing it this time. 

He hears footsteps coming up the staircase and he writes the first thing that comes to his mind. The only thing that never leaves his mind when he’s around Annabeth. It’s not a long message so he’s finishing it just as Annabeth sits back down. He slams the book shut and chucks it behind him so that she can’t immediately read it. She notices and raises an eyebrow. 

“Read it later. It’s embarrassing,” he says sheepishly. She laughs and hands him a bag of sour blue candy stripes. He tears open the package and starts eating as he hears other footsteps. Grover and Thalia appear in the doorway, holding pillows and even more bags of snacks. 

“Let’s get this party started!” Thalia exclaims and drops her stuff unceremoniously on top of Percy, burying him under the wright. Everyone laughs at him as he sputters his way out. 

Thalia plugs in some music and Annabeth helps pull Percy to his feet, and they start the feast of snacks. Grover helps Percy set up a projector for their movie and it’s nearing midnight when they finally settle on Disney’s Hercules. 

As always Grover falls asleep halfway through the movie, murmuring about how his tummy hurts in his sleep. They take group selfies with him, and Percy grabs the marker next to Annabeth’s yearbook so that he can draw on Grover’s face. He’s holding back giggles with Thalia as they pose next to him and Annabeth takes a photo of them. 

He pulls both girls close to him when he falls back and squeezes their shoulders. 

“I can’t believe my favourite girls are leaving me to deal with this idiot,” he says and nods to Grover who has started snoring. Thalia scoffs and pushes his face so that he lets go of her. He gives in but doesn’t take his arm off Annabeth, and he swears that Annabeth cuddles just a bit closer to him. 

“We’re not dying, Percy, we’re just moving to the West Coast,” Thalia says as she opens a can of coke and Percy briefly remembers how he first met Annabeth and how she had protected him from Nancy. He exchanges a look with her and sees that she’s already smiling at him, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. 

“Betrayal. That’s what this is,” he says and squeezes Annabeth’s shoulder again. She threads their hands together and Percy tries not to react and turn to her again. 

Thalia catches his eye and smirks at their interlocked hands. 

She stands up and brushes her pants. 

“I need to go pee, do you two need anything from downstairs?” 

They both shake their heads and she nods before carefully stepping over a sleeping Grover and leaves the two of them. 

Percy and Annabeth stay like that, leaning on each other, hands interlocked and Percy wishes he could freeze this exact moment. 

“Did you write something?” Annabeth asks softly as she pulls away from him, but doesn’t let go of his hand. Percy nods tightly and she smiles as she reaches across from him and grabs the yearbook from their makeshift table. She skips straight to the back and opens to his page. She gave him an entire page to write on, but there’s only one sentence in the middle and two small doodles. She stares at it for a moment, rereading it before she looks up. 

“You’re my number one,” Annabeth reads, holding the yearbook open at his page, “What does that mean?”

Percy swallows, suddenly terrified. There’s no time like now to tell her, and he has no real doubts about loving her, but with her unflinching gaze on him like this, it’s hard not to be nervous. He tries not to overthink and takes a deep breath, speaking the truth that he’s kept under wraps for years. 

“There’s only one meaning, Wise Girl, what else could it mean?” He says with a shrug and reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “My Mom once said that people who have a big heart have a lot of love in them to share, but they’ll always have their number one, and that’s you. That’s been you for years, my entire life probably.”

He takes another breath and waits for Annabeth to respond. When she doesn’t he continues, suddenly full of words. “You’re the one for me. The only one that I could ever want. The one I put before everything. You’re my-”

“Do you mean that?” Her face is full of doubt and Percy brings their joined hands up so he can press his lips to the back of her hand. 

“Of course,” he breathes, and pulls her closer. He’s barely breathing when she puts the yearbook down for a moment. They stay frozen like that, pressed against each other, foreheads touching and breath mingling.  

“I think I was made for loving you,” he whispers and carefully pushes her hair back. 

The smile she gives him is one to rival the sun that is going to rise in a few hours. 

“If that’s so, then I was made for loving you just as much.”

She kisses him, and he almost forgets his name. He brings his hands up to cup face and bring her closer and she smiles against his lips and-

“Seriously? You two couldn’t wait until after I was asleep. Jeez.” 

Annabeth jerks away from him and they both stare at Thalia who is giving them a tired look from the rooftop doorway. Percy can’t help it and starts laughing, shortly after Annabeth joins and falls onto his chest, laughing too hard to keep herself up. Eventually, Thalia sits back down and bites her lip trying not to laugh, but the more she tries to keep it in the funnier it gets. 

By then all three of them are laughing so hard their stomach hurts and Grover stirs awake. 

“What’s going on?”

“This,” Annabeth says and proudly holds up her hand that is still firmly clasped in Percy’s hand. 

Grover blinks sleepily at it and shrugs like it’s not a big deal. 

“About freaking time,” he says and lays back down. 

Percy and Annabeth look at each other again and he smiles at her before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her mouth. 

“It was worth the wait.” 

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5