#smart boy using the handkerchief to open the safe!

[theperrylleluniverse]

Perry using his lighter to look in the safe and then his goofy little face in the bottom left gif GOD

[kaashiboo]

haikyuu boys reacting to you talking to an attractive guy part. 1

┇ akaashi and shirabu

→ fluff

【warnings: swearing】

gn! reader

✎ a/n: i got a bit carried away with shirabu's AAAAHHH. it makes me sad because im a huge shirabu simp but im content deprived so pls expect me to write more about shirabu for an unhealthy amount of times!<3

part 2 - coming soon (ft. tendou and iwaizumi)

akaashi

"y/n." he said, almost as if he was whispering but he didn't want to bother you as you seem interested in the conversation that you were having with your male classmate.

"darling." he tried once again, tugging on the hem of his your jacket. fortunately, you turned to him this time.

"i thought we were going to the newly opened coffee shop." he reminded you.

"oh yeah! okay, wait a sec." you smiled at him and returned your attention back to your classmate.

'ouch' he thought.

the seconds you promised turned into another ten minutes and so he was just standing there behind you awkwardly. he wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, he was just busy watching as your eye lit up in excitement. the way you would make weird gestures with your hands to furthermore elaborate your story. he noticed as well how attentive you look as the boy speaks, you leaning in to hear him better. heck, you didn't even bother to cover your mouth as you laugh— not that he hated it but you were never like that to him.

he blinks, starting to feel uneasy and having the urge to pull you out of the scene but he knows very well that you're not his property and that he has no right to tell you who and who not to talk to. as long as you're safe then he's fine with it.

he tries reassuring himself that your classmate was nothing more than just a friend but his insecurities were starting to slowly get into his head. he looks down to his feet, brows furrowed as an attempt to distract himself from his thoughts.

"keiji?" you spoke softly, placing your hand on his shoulder. he looked up, staring right behind you but your classmate was no longer there.

'how long was i spacing out?'

"are you okay?" you asked. taking out your handkerchief from your pocket to wipe the beads of sweat that were on his forehead.

"do you feel sick? we could always go to the shop next time."

"i'm fine." he curtly replied. he panicked as soon as he realized how rude his response was but he immediately relaxed when he saw you smiling gently at him.

"if you say so." you reached for his hand, and intertwined your fingers together as he lets you lead the way.

the short walk from your school to the cafe was quiet— quieter than usual. you told him to find a seat and offered to order for the both of you.

he wanted to protest and tell you that he could have paid for it but he chose not to. he really did want to talk but the unsettling feeling hasn't disappeared yet which made him want to not say anything at all.

you quickly found akaashi and sat across him. his hands were clasped together, resting on the table and so you placed your hands on top of his. giving it a light squeeze.

"you've been awfully quiet. do you want to talk about it?" he contemplated on whether he should tell you about his weird feelings or not but he decided that it would be better if he opened up.

"earlier," he paused, not really knowing how he should start it. if you weren't close to him then you probably wouldn't have heard that he spoke. you decided to let your hands on the table instead of his hands.

"when you were with your classmate, i was glad to see how happy you looked as you talked to him but it felt weird, i don't know why but the way you acted around him was completely different compared to when you're with me... " his voice shrunk.

"i apologize for thinking like this, y/n. i know it's completely immature of me. let's just— forget about it." he slightly frowned, grabbing his own drink and took a sip from it.

"were you perhaps... jealous, my love?" you chuckled and he playfully rolled his eyes at you.

"it's nothing, darling." he denies.

"it's clearly something, keiji. and besides, what you felt— or i assume, what you're currently feeling, is valid. i should be the one apologizing, okay? i'm glad you opened up to me." you reach for your drink next to his but akaashi was quick enough to get a hold of your wrists with his one hand effortlessly while the other grabbed your drink , the straw near your mouth. you looked at him in confusion.

"just drink it. i don't want to let go." he lets out a slight scoff, staring away from your teasing looks. you obliged before he changes his mind and take away your drink.

he still hasn't let go and you chuckled at how stubborn he was. he knew he could have let you use your other to hand to grab your drink but oh well.

"but seriously, keiji. you probably weren't listening but we were talking about something else." he doesn't know how your statement was supposed to make him feel better but he nodded, urging you to continue.

"i'm not gonna tell you to stop being jealous because i think that's easier said than done but i just want to assure you. we were talking about how his date went because he has a crush on my best friend and they finally went out. he doesn't like me and i don't like him in that way either." you explained calmly.

"and i'm sorry for making you think that i'm not comfortable around you. i think you took it the other way around though. just because you see me more hyper when i'm with others, doesn't mean i don't feel at ease when i'm with you. you make me feel safe and normal." you sheepishly confessed.

"oh." he mumbled.

"'oh'? that's all you're gonna say?" you joked, your gaze diverting on the table where he was still busy playing with your hands.

"sorry for jumping into conclusions."

"it's alright. i love you, remember that."

"i love you more, y/n."

shirabu

"goshiki. have you seen y/n?" shirabu asked as soon as he approached goshiki's table.

"huh? why are you asking me that? aren't we from different classes and year?" he tilted his head, confused with shirabu's visible frown.

"yea— i know that, shut up. you know what— never mind." he groaned and left.

break time is almost over and you still haven't shown up. shirabu may never admit but he truly is worried about you.

he stormed to the classroom of your previous class, silently opening the door, and peeked inside. only to see you sitting on your chair with your male classmate standing in front of your desk, a hand resting on the table to support his upper body as he leans down to meet your face.

he scoffs loudly, your head immediately turning to his direction, and leaned away from the boy.

"this is a school. not a motel." shirabu snarled.

"why are you here?" you raised a brow at him while your male classmate stood up straight, fixing his uniform along.

"i— i wanted to check something here but i was not expecting two irresponsible students deciding to flirt in a classroom. have you ever heard of good manners?" he crossed his arms on his chest. watching as you harshly shove your belongings into your bag before making your way to where he was.

you stood in front of him. having to look up a bit to match his piercing gaze, "you're smart but you're bad at making assumptions." you placed your hand on his chest and pushed him to the side to make way for yourself.

"where do you think you're going?" he shouted, trailing behind you as you try your best to get past the crowd.

"i don't know what the hell is your problem with me, shirabu. would you please mind your own business? what are you? my significant other? asshole." you rolled your eyes and continued your journey to wherever your feet decide to lead you as long as he would not be near you.

you looked over your shoulders. seeing that he already stopped following you. you were supposed to feel glad about it but you felt otherwise.

-

it has been exactly four days. four days without your usual bickerings with shirabu. the whole volleyball team was surprised. it's not like you stopped visiting them to watch their practice, but your interactions with the setter have drastically decreased. no one dared to ask about it and they all act like nothing is happening but the tension still somehow got in the way as you converse with the others. the pair of eyes carefully watching your every move and it took you all the energy to not look back.

'seriously? who does he think he is? it's so annoying. how dare he jump to conclusions. and besides, even if he was right, why does it matter to him so much.' you tried to convince yourself but it wasn't enough to overpower how you actually felt about the whole ignoring situation. you did try to approach him the other day but backed out.

semi noticed that you were spacing out the whole time as he was talking about something. not even the blow of the whistle was enough for you to snap back to reality and so he just patted your back before running back to the court to continue the practice.

you sighed to yourself and felt your phone buzz, receiving a text from haru.

haru: hey y/n! i'm in the library right now. i'll be waiting.

you wanted to bid your goodbye to them but they were too engrossed with practice so you decided to just leave without uttering a single word.

"shirabu! where are you going?" tendou watched as his teammate's figure disappeared from his sight.

"ah, young love." he clicked his tongue in amusement.

"hi haru!" you greeted and he offered a smile before he put his index finger to his mouth, a friendly reminder that you two are in the library. you whispered an apology before sitting beside him.

"so, how'd you do in the exam?" he starts.

"i don't think i'm very satisfied with it but i got a 90% so i guess it's not that bad." you talked as you took out your own textbooks and placed the test results on the table for him to see.

he gasps jokingly, "i beg to disagree that it's not a good grade. i literally got an 88%" he playfully punched your shoulders and proceeded to tell you how proud he was that you managed to ace the exam with his help.

"i hope you don't mind if we settle here instead? i didn't really want to bother my roommate and i think most classrooms are occupied right now." he looks at you apologetically.

"don't sweat about it." you reassured, placing your hand over his that was on the table but you immediately retracted your hand when you heard someone cough.

"what do you want?" you tried to sound tough but you were intimidated by his dark gaze even though he didn't mean to scare YOU off.

"let's talk." he looks straight into your eyes.

"no."

"oh? i wasn't asking. i was demanding." he then grabbed all your belongings, carefully but hurriedly putting them inside your bag and zipping it close, and slung it on his shoulder.

"shira—"

"kenjirō." he cut you off and impatiently grabbed your wrist, not forgetting to give haru one last glare before dragging you along to wherever he planned on taking you.

his pace was fast and you tried your best to keep up with him, being careful in order to not trip.

he abruptly stopped on his tracks which took you by surprise and almost hit your face on his back. he gently pushed you inside the volleyball team's clubroom and you finally gave in and decided to let him.

none of you spoke as you got inside. you leaned on the wall just beside the door. staring intently at your bag that he placed on the floor. having no intentions of making eye contact with him.

however, you didn't expect it when he suddenly stepped closer and nuzzled his face into your neck. "k-kenjirō?" you stammer, reluctantly hugging him and rubbing circles on his back for comfort.

"is there something wrong?" you whispered and he finally pulled away from the hug.

"sorry."

"kenji—"

"shut up," wow okay.

"i'm sorry for... being mean— not that it's something new but i didn't realize how bad it was to accuse you of something that you may or may not do... but that's not the point. i know you're bad at flirti—"

"kenjirō, are you apologizing or insulting me?" you let out a laugh. oh how he missed hearing that.

"right. anyway, i'm sorry i made you upset to the point that you had to avoid me," he was about to continue but you interrupted him.

"avoid you— what?! i thought YOU were avoiding me so i didn't want to bother you!" you exclaimed and the two of you stared at each other in confusion.

"so you weren't mad at me?" he narrowed his eyes at you, a hint of doubt laced within his voice.

"no? i mean, i was pretty upset that you thought i had the time to flirt with someone but it wasn't a big deal and my anger only lasted for an hour." you tried to elaborate.

"but why didn't you approach me the day after? heck, you didn't even spare a glance at me during practice!"

"because i thought you were mad at me!" you exasperated, massaging your temples at the same time.

"god, y/n. so you're telling me i avoided you for nothing?" you hesitantly nodded at him, mind still filled with questions.

"why were you so affected by it anyway," you mumbled.

"excuse me?" he raised a brow, sounding as offended as ever.

"imagine seeing the person you like to be with another attractive guy and be PHYSICALLY close with him. how would you feel then?" you were taken aback by his sudden confession but you decided to play along with his i'm-still-in-denial-game.

"well, i don't know about that because the person i like is constantly surrounded by handsome guys on the volleyball team but i was never jealous."

"so you like someone from the team," he humorlessly chuckled. "this is pointless." he stated.

you groaned at how slow he was, "you're so stupid. it's you who i like, kenjirō! oh my god i can't believe you're this dumb." he stared at you in disbelief, using his index finger to point at himself, "me?"

"no. the fucking wall, kenjirō. i like the wall!" you shut your eyes closed, trying not to get your annoyance into your head.

"then who were you wi—"

"a friend, shirabu kenjirō. haru is a friend who offered to tutor me for the whole week since exams are coming." you reassure.

"but why him? do i look like someone who won't tutor you?"

"yes..." your voice trailed off and he stood there, dumbfounded with how straightforward you were.

"but if you just admit that you were jealous then maybe i'd approach you instead." you joked.

"i wasn't jealous but you're changing your tutor whether you like it or not. now, come on and let's tell him so i could finally go back to practice." he picked up your bag and tossed it to you.

"you're not gonna ask me out first?" you teased before placing your hand at the doorknob.

"well then, go out with me."

"i said ask, not demand." you rolled your eyes.

"as if you'd have a choice anyway."

[onlymexsarah]

Promise pt. 5 || Kaz Brekker

Summary: When the life of Kaz is threated by her presence, she had to make a crucial decision that will bring misunderstanding among the two of them. Now that he has his Fire Girl, will he be able to keep her, or Dirtyhand will mess everything up?

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x grisha!Reader

Warning: angst, Kaz being Dirtyhands for ten minutes straigh, spoiler of Six of Crows, my english.

A/N: Thank all of you for the comments, the likes and the shares. I didn't expected that this little idea would have captured your attention, really you made my writing more enjoyable and easy. I'm so sorry if I'm late but I've been sick these days and I couldn't finish the chapter :( there are a lot of things that I want to tell you, see you at the end of the chapter ;)

PT. 1 - PT. 2 - PT. 3 - PT. 4

MAIN MASTERLIST

Few days passed with the girl lying on her bed recovering from the wound that the fight gave her.

When she opened her eyes after have fainted in Kaz's arms, fear had been the first to come to visit her. Fear of being already tied at some bed on a ship, sold at the Shu that would have been more than happy to make experiment on her. She was scared that the temptation must have been too much for Kaz Brekker to have such a value grisha in his hands, but then she noticed she was in her room at the Slat and a rush of tiredness hit her making her sleep again.

The other times she opened her eyes someone among Jesper, Inej and Wylan was always at her side, changing the bandage and bringing her food.

Inej told her that her father, Jan Van Eck, was now aware that she was part of the Dregs, and she was under Kaz Brekker's protection. Everyone was aware she was a grisha, but neither Jesper and Inej seemed to mind her lie, maybe because they had secrets too, she though.

A morning a letter came for Kaz, a letter from her father.

Mister Brekker

we never had the occasion to meet, and you'll agree with me when I say that I wish to keep things like this. Voice is spread that you have my beloved daughter with you. I hope you understand that she is a danger for this city. I've sent her away many years ago with the only interest of protecting Kerch from her, but I see that I could have done things in a better way.

It is as a father that I ask you to bring her to me so that I can repair my mistakes. She is a danger for all of us if not under control, Mister Brekker, and I am sure you saw it yourself last night. She has to face a trial for her crimes and be sent where she can't be a danger for anyone anymore. If she doesn't come back in seven days, I should consider you and your Dregs as her accomplices, planning to attack Ketterdam and all Kerch using her power.

Surely a smart men as yourself doesn't want those kind of problems.

Hope to see my city safe again,

Jan Van Eck.

Inej had brough the letter at her in the afternoon, and in the evening the grisha girl was already planning her escaping from Ketterdam for the third time in her life.

She didn't want to leave Wylan, hell she had promised him they wouldn't split up ever again, but if her plan worked then he would have been able to follow her after few months. If the Van Eck siblings moved together they would have caught too much attention, and they had to do everything in secrets.

Wylan tried to convince her to stay. He was sure that Kaz would have helped her, Wylan was sure that Kaz Brekker would have sealed all Ketterdam to keep her save, and even if as her brother he didn't like her closeness with the Bastard of the Barrel, he couldn't deny that it was useful.

"I'm putting all of you in danger just staying here. If I go away father will have nothing to threat you with." she said putting her clothes in her bags. Seven days, she couldn't give her father the time to close all the harbours in Kerch. If she wanted to go she had to do it as soon as possible.

"Talk to Kaz! Let see what he says, please." begged Wylan grabbing her hands in his to stop her.

She looked in his beautiful blue eyes and saw hope. "You really think Kaz has the power to keep me here?"

Her brother smirked. "I think Kaz would tear apart this city to keep you save. Talk to him, keep your options open."

Dirtyhands would never fight a battle where he couldn't win money, but Y/n was willing to try. That night after dinner she decided she would speak with Kaz and see if he was willing to keep her.

"Let see what the great Kaz Brekker think about it." she sighed putting her arm around Wylan's shoulder and walking downstair where their dinner waited them.

Kaz Brekker sat in his office, in his gloved hands the red handkerchief and Jan Van Eck's letter. Before that morning the death of Van Eck had been one of the many he wanted to deal with for what he had done to his Fire Girl, but now his death had taken a shape, colours and many details that Kaz's was adding one by one.

Brick by brick, Kaz would take all his enemies down, and Y/n was more than welcome to take her revenger with him.

He went downstair at the second floor walking toward Y/n's room. He wanted to check how she was, and speak with her about how she wanted to deal with her father. He didn't know if she wanted his actual death, but he was just fine with torture.

When he reached the door and looked inside his blood froze. All her things were packed in three bags, all her clothes were gone from her wardrobe and none of her objects were around the room. Neither the little portrait of she and baby Wylan that she kept on her bedside table before falling asleep.

She is leaving you.

These words felt like a stab in his chest, like someone had taken the oxigen from his lungs. Would she, leave him? Yes. Y/n would find a better life everywhere out Kerch, it was reasonable that she was already packing. When she wanted to leave? Where she wanted to go?

He knew nothing about it and Kaz Brekker always knew everything. Especially of what happened in his Slat. But this time the girl was leaving him, again, and she hadn't had talked with him about it. She hadn't advised him. Did you really think she was going to live this life just for you? For a man who can't even hold her hands without hyperventilate? A man who can't give her the love she deserve?

The fear he saw in her eyes when she saved his life with her power wasn't because she was feared of his rejection; she feared that he would have send her out of the Dregs, without protection and away from her brother.

He stormed back in his office, anger filled his boody and what else? Disappointment? Sadness? He was angry with himself because he had been a fool again. He had let someone playing with him again, that's what Y/n had been doing. She had been toying with him. She had made sure to have a safe place where live, a job and her brother beside her. Every little nice things she did for him was just to keep him close, to keep Dirtyhands at bay.

Like a fury he threw everything that was on his desk on the floor with his arms. Documents, the handkerchief, the letters, were all on the floor but he couldn't care less. She wanted to leave? Fine. Dirtyhands didn't care.

A known shiver crossed his spine before he heard a knock at his door.

"What?" he didn't look up when the girl entered, too focus on something in the drawers of his desk.

"Wow, and I though to be the one who had a bad day." she joked looking the mess at his feet.

He didn't smile, or smirked. He kept his eyes on something she coudn't see. "What bussiness?"

What bussiness. Those words were the greeting in Ketterdam when two bussiness men met, but the grisha girl though that she and Kaz had passed that step. He must had really a bad day, and it could have been because of the letter...she though sadly.

Who knew what other problems her father had caused around Ketterdam to earn the attention of Kaz, to push him to hand her in his hands.

"My father...I don't want any of you to be in danger because of me." she said carefully walking closer to his desk. A glimp of red captured her eyes but the pain at her waist made her close her eyes for a second.

"I'd say it's too late for it, isn't it?" he asked coldly. She took a step behind, taken back by his coldness toward her. "You seemed to enoy keeping secrets, didn't you? Do you know how easier it would have been knowing about your being grisha months ago?"

That wasn't the boy who had brough her in his arms out from the gala. He wasn't the boy who fought beside her, spied beside her and saved her a couple of time.

"I am sorry, I truly am Kaz. But I know what is the price of being a grisha here...it wouldn't have been easy for me walking with a target on my back. I have done it my whole life."

He refused to look her in the eyes, and it was driving her crazy. Was he really that mad at her that he couldn't bare even the sight of her?

"You decided for yourself, a thing you tend to do often I see." she was sure he had never spoken to her like that, neither in his bad days, and Kaz Brekker had a lot of bad days. "You swore loyalty to the Dregs, to the Crows. If you can't trust us then you shouldn't stay here."

He had said the crucial words, and there was no going back. She wanted to leave, then he would make sure to let her believe that he didn't care. That he didn't care about not finding his hot coffee on his desk again, or that from that day on he wouldn't feel the shivers in his spine anymore. He pretended to not care about not seeing her anymore. She had left him once, he could survive it a second time.

"That's it? That's what you want?" she felt her voice dying in her throat. Was her mistake that big? You knew that once Kaz knew what you were he would have pushed you away like everyone else. 'No one will understand you as the other of your kind', Baghra once told her, but when she met Kaz she believed that her old teacher was wrong. Kaz Brekker had been her safe harbour when no one else would care about her, was she so easily replaceable for him?

"You would have leave anyway at some point, you said it yourself the first time we met at the Club. Today, tomorrow, in five years...I don't see the difference." he shrugged like he didn't care.

He doesn't, her mind reminded her.

"Alright then...I don't want to be of any trouble to you anymore..." she whispered with her hands behind her back. She hated how little she felt, but he was sendind her away. Kaz Brekker, the boy she'd die for. The boy who had let her felt hope again after years, the boy who made her laugh even when he surely didn't mean it. The boy in who she was willing to put the most important years of her long life, that boy was sending her away without looking back.

"Then go." he said fixing his eyes in hers. She could feel the sharpness of his eyes cutting her chest.

"Fine, then I'll just-" she stopped talking when her eyes landed on the red thing she had seen before. A red handkerchief. Her feet moved on their own will. Before she could register what was happening she had the red handkerchief in her hands, her eyes fixed on the three letters on it. W. V. E.

"Y/n don't-" Kaz stood up trying to stop her but it was too late.

"Why do you have my brother's hand-" she was confused, but then her eyes raised to the boy in front of her. His brown eyes, his dark hair and pale skin, and in a second her mind brough her a memory.

The little boy smiled standing before her. He was at the same height of her belly, but his eyes seemed older.

"I have still things to do, and people I need to find. " the last words said with rage.

"Take care of yourself, boy. Don't let the bad days winning your good ones, there is always light at the end of a tunnel; you only have to walk a little more."

And then another.

"What is you name little boy?"

"K-..." he stopped for a long moment thinking about it. He looked the girl beside him and even if he wanted to trust her he just couldn't after what happened. "Jordie..."

"J-Jordie?" she asked, her voice trembling. "I-...You are not him, aren't you?" he stayed silent, looking her like a statue. "You would have told me if you were him...Kaz you are not the little boy I met eight years ago, right?!"

Her voice raised squeezing the handkerchief in her right fit.

She saw him gulped before answering slowly. "Yes, I am."

She took two huge steps back breathing eavily. He had known me all along. "Why you've never said anything? That day when you approached me, you knew who I was and you offered me a...job..."

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked touching his shoulder with her own. The boy, whose name wasn't obviously Jordie, nodded looking her curiously. She smirked bringin her left hand on her right one and rotating them slowly. A flame came out from her right palm, little but still powerful; red and orange like the handkerchief she had given him before.

The boy's eyes shone marveled looking the flame on her palm. "You are a grisha!"

The truth hit her hard. She raised her eyes in his letting him see the betrayal. "You had always knew what I was. That's why you gave me the job...you didn't care that I was new, you didn't care that I was the girl you met when you was a child. You wanted an Inferni to work for you!"

Every words, every attention, every talk they shared were all lies. Nothing of what he said was true, Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason, he didn't need a reason to give a job to a girl new in town, but it was clear that Kaz Brekker always had a reason. She had been only too foolish to not understand everything before.

She thought she was good to keep a secret, but something like her power couldn't pass unnoticed to Kaz Brekker. She had been a fool to believe he didn't know about her power. It was the only reason he kept her in the Dregs since the beginning.

"An inferni would have been very useful, but you have proved to know how to do your job perfectly without your power. Now, if you want to go you are free to do so. Nothing bind you here." he said, his voice cold as death.

You bound me here, she wanted to shout. But it had been Kaz's plan all along. Making her believe she was different, making her believe he saw her.

"Nothing." she repeated before walking away from his office, leaving the boy alone with the loudly silent that filled the room, staring at the handkerchief that she let fall on the ground, the only thing that had always bound them.

***

The next morning Kaz woke up and knew immediately that something was wrong. He took his cane and walked downstairs to the kitchen where he heard people talking out loud.

"I swear Jesper, when I see him I-" Wylan stop talking in the exact moment Kaz stepped in the room. The red haired boy fixed his eyes on him and before he could understand what was happening Wylan was yelling at him with all the rage he felt. "How dare you coming here like nothing happened!?"

Jesper had to put his arms around Wylan's torso to keep him from throwing himself on Kaz. "Last time I checked this was my Slat."

"And you find amusing sending people away, don't you?" Wylan spoke spitting venom from his mouth. "She needed help and you turned your back at her!"

Now Kaz needed few minutes to make his brain, still sleepy, working to connect the dots. It was clear that Wylan was talking about his sister, who seemed to have played the victim with her own brother.

"If you want to know, merchling, she decided her will herself. She came to me to let me know she was leaving." Kaz shrugged walking toward coffee machine. He didn't have the strengh to face an angry boy if he wasn't properly awake.

"As hell she did. She came to ask you what to do and you sent her away." Kaz let his words running in his head for a while, studying them one by one.

He didn't..."When she came in my office she had already decided." he refused to tell them he had seen her bags ready in her room, he refused to let someone know he cared.

"No Kaz, she didn't." This time Inej spoke, he hadn't even noticed she was there. "She wanted to leave to protect you from her father, but Wylan convinced her to slow down and come to you to ask what to do."

No, no, it was not possible. "When she came in your office she hadn't decided yet. You gave her the answer, Kaz." Jesper spoke keeping his hands on Wylan's shoulders, who now was sat on a chair with his face in his hands.

I would have noticed if she was asking me what to do. She had her bags ready...she came to me to tell me...his thoughs were running wild inside his head.

"That's it? That's what you want?"

Kaz tried to put his thoughs together. He tried to find a logic of what had happened the night before.

"You had always knew what I was. That's why you gave me the job...you didn't care that I was new, you didn't care that I was the girl you met when you was a child. You wanted an Inferni to work for you!"

No, no, no. Everything was so wrong again. He though she was going to leave him and he had let her believe that he had used her all this time. He though she was leaving him...that was the only thing he had needed to loose his mind.

"You didn't know..." whispered Inej surprised.

Kaz couldn't trust his voice enough to not break in front of everyone so he just shoke his head slowly looking the Suli girl in the eyes.

"What have you done..."murmured Jesper rubbing his eyes with his hand. "Alright, if you hurry you should arrive before the schooner leaves."

"Fifth harbour?" Kaz asked with raspy voice.

"Yes! Go!" said the Zemeni boy excited. "I love a dramatic romance."

He didn't let him repeated twice, ready to run if he had to he walked toward the door when Wylan's voice stopped him.

"Brekker, bring her back." Please, was the word the boy let unspoken.

He nodded before running toward the harbour. He took just his cloat at the door, leaving his hat behind. He couldn't let her leave again. He had to arrive in time, and if he didn't he would have swim until he'd found himself on the schooner and ask sorry to her for his infinity dullness.

"Alright then...I don't want to be of any trouble to you anymore..."

She wasn't a trouble, he wanted to shout in the air. She had never been a trouble, he was the wrong one. He was the twisted, crooked, problematic who couldn't stop himself from hurt her everytime.

"My father...I don't want any of you to be in danger because of me."

Even when she was the one in danger, she would think about him first. He didn't see it last night, too focused on accusing her of betrayal. Betrayal of what? She hadn't broken any vows she made. She wasn't bind to him, she own him nothing and surely Ketterdam did nothing to earn her protection.

Since the first day she had stayed on her own will, she had stayed beside him even when he pushed everyone away. That's what got under his skin, her perseverence. She kept fighting for him, she kept seeing good in him and the only thing he had been capable of was making her feel used and unwanted.

He saw the harbour and he barely noticed that he hadn't used his cane. It would have just slowed me, he thought already searching his girl with the eyes.

He owed her an explanation, he owed her a lot of apologies, and then she would decide if she wanted to stay. Kaz swore to everyone who was listening that if Y/n chose to stay in Ketterdam with him, he would have made sure to be worth her choice. He would fight everyday to go trought his boundaries for her, with her. He would be the man she deserved.

"The schooner for Os Kervo." Kaz asked urgently to a man. He knew Y/n, she would find a safe home in Ravka at the Little Palace where the grisha were safe and strong.

"The first one left this morning at four bells, the next it's at the berth twenty-four, leaves in half bell." the man answered.

Kaz didn't think twice and ran toward the schooner with his heart in his throat. Please, saints if you exist make sure she hadn't already left.

He felt pathetic. Never in his life he had ever prayed, but he though that if it gave him a chance to see her again that it was worth a try.

He arrived at the schooner, but looking around he didn't see her. She must be already on board, he though and without difficulty he went on the ship.

There wasn't many people, but from what Kaz knew the grisha girl could have been already in her room and there was no way to find her before that schooner left.

He felt a shiver in his spine, telling him that she was close, but he didn't know where to look. Right, left, he looked everywhere. People around him looked him worried.

She can't be gone, he kept reapeting in his head like a mantra.

"Came here to bring me back to my father?" a voice said from above him. "How much did he offer to you? Must be a lot to affront a grisha alone."

His heart missed a beat and when he looked over his head he though he might start to believe in saints.

She was there, perched on one of the boom. Her hood was up hiding her face like she always did when she was out of their zone. She was a wanted grisha now, and he felt a grip on his heart at the though that she was used to that life of a runner.

You are not alone anymore, Fire Girl, he though vividly.

"I thought you had decided to leave..." he said. It didn't sound like an apologize at all...Damn Saints, there were a bilions things he wanted to say her, and yet his throat felt dry when he could talk.

"I did." her voice was sharped as a blade and cold as ice.

He gulped, I deserve this. "I know..." He had a flashback of their first conversation at the Crows Club, and cold shivers ran in his blood. I will not make the same mistake twice. "I should have told you who I was since the beginning."

"Maybe if I knew I didn't have to hide my power you could have had your personal inferni sooner." it was his fault. He had let her believe that he wanted her just for her power, but it wasn't true. Kaz Brekker kept her with the Dregs because he couldn't bare the though of her being hurt or threated.

"Could you get off from that boom? Please..." the last word burned in Kaz's throat like fire. It wasn't easy for him to say out loud his feelings, but he knew it would have been the only thing to make her stay. He owed her the truth.

She scoffed and jumped, landing in front of him with the lightness of a feather. Crossing her arms over her chest she studyed him from under her hood, waiting for him to speak first.

You want me sto stay, you have to say it, her posture told him.

"I saw your bags in your room, I though you wanted to leave me, the Dregs. I would understand if it what you wish, but you have to know that I was angry. Angry because I though you didn't trust me. You had just packed all your things without talking to me first, I though...I though you..." said those words Kaz brekker, a voice said in his mind. "I though you used me as a protection, nothing else. And when you showed up in my office I though you were going to say me you were leaving. No question, no mouners."

She stayed silent for a bit, surely surprised by his words. He couldn't see her whole face from his height, and he needed to use all his self control to not take it and push it down.

"The only reason I decided to leave was because my father knew about you. I knew he would have used you against me if I stayed, and I couldn't put you in danger just because I wanted to be selfish." her voice had softened a bit, but it was still sharp as she was ready for any attack from him. "Wylan convinced me that you would have helped me, that you would have been willing to fight for me. But when I come to you, I find Dirtyhands planning my departure. And what I find out? That you kept me under your roof just because you knew I was a grisha."

"It's not true." he stopped her firmly. "I knew you were a grisha, but never in my head I though about using you for your power."

"Then what other reason to keep the truth about our first meeting from me?"

Now it's the moment. Don't let your shame eat you alive, put yourself together and take your Fire Girl back.

"Because I was ashamed of the man I became. Because if you knew who I was you would have seen that the little boy you met eight years ago doesn't exist anymore. You would have seen that I failed you..." saying finally those words after a year left him lighter.

She gasped softly. It's not true, I can still see that little boy right in front me... "No, I failed you. You were a child Kaz, you had no faults. I should've stayed with you."

She could see the surprise on Kaz's face when she spoke those words. She had time to think that morning, at the little boy she left alone in the streets of Ketterdam. The boy who had kept her secrets all those years and never blackmailed her.

"I don't think something would have changed. I chose my path." he said with his raspy voice. How many nights he had dreamt about that moment? When he would finally speak with her, when the little boy and the Fire Girl would meet again.

"Becasue no one was there for you. Beccause you were alone. But if someone would have taken care of you, if someone would have showed you another way, maybe everything would have been different." maybe you would have been different.

She wasn't disappointed in what Kaz had became, she knew that everything he did it was to survive at the Barrel. She was proud that he had found the strengh to fight and live; Y/n would change nothing of the man she had in front of her.

The captain of the schooner announced that they were ready to leave and Y/n took a deep breath. "You should go..."

"Come with me." his mind, his rational part stopped working. There were nothing to brake his tongue. "Eight years ago you asked me if I wanted you to stay with me, and I said no. Today I'm asking you to stay in Ketterdam, with me, with the Crows. We cant-...I can't loose you. Not again."

Her heart started to beat faster like a roller coaster. Was Kaz Brekker the one who was talking in front of her? The Bastard of the Barrel was asking her to stay with him. You are going to put him in danger, a voice in her mind reminded her.

She looked Ketterdam behind him, as she could see her father's house.

Kaz saw the shift in her face's direction, and immediately understood what was thinking that mind of her. He rose a gloved hand in front of him taking her by surprise.

"If you wish to go to Ravka I will not stop you, but if you give me a chance I'll try everyday to be the man worth to stay by your side. And I promise you..." he took a step forward making her gasp. "I promise you we will take down everyone who threat us and we'll make them know the real meaning of the word suffer."

That's the Dirtyhands I fell for, she though smiling brightly. She took his hand firmly feeling his fingers closing around hers. "Just one condition." He raised an eyebrow to say 'continue please'. "Jan Van Eck is mine, and he's not going to die until I say so."

She knew that Kaz wasn't the only one who had changed in those years, and there were no reasons to hide it. The grisha girl who lived in the shadows and the little boy who was scared would never meet again, both had died when the world had turned its back to them. Both had raised like phoenix and became stronger.

"The deal is the deal, Fire Girl." he smirked walking with her toward the berth. The schooner was already leaving and there was a little void between the berth and the schooner, so Kaz squeezed her hand and they both jumped. When their feet touched the berth he didn't notice he was laughing with her. Her hood was over her forehead and he couldn't hold it anymore, he stood in front of her with the steady hands of a magician and gently lowered it, feeling the hurge to see her smile again. "No secrets anymore."

"No secrets anymore." she replied keeping her eyes in his.

It was their promise to start from the beginning. Their past was a beautiful story to remember, but they would fight for their future side by side, and little did she know that for all the time she hadn't spoken with Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel. But the boy in front of her, with the light of hope in his dark eyes was the normal, simple Kaz Rietveld.

A/N:OH MY GOODNESS WE ARE HERE! This is the end of the story of our lovely, brave Fire Girl and our little, cute Kaz. I think I can cry... This is the chapter that most I love of the series and I think you can see why! Writing it was so emotional and still so easy, I knew from the first moment how I wanted their story to end and how I wanted to write it. I have many ideas for a future book with those two idiots, but in the mean time...would you like a bonus chapter where we are gonna see how they're managing they're "relationship"? Maybe where he tells her his real name...👀 but now tell me, what was the part that you most liked? Would have you made the same decisions as them? MY CHAT AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN SOO I'm gonna wait you there ;)

p.s. : who recognize the scene from an old tv series for young I took ispiration for the fight and the departure? 👀

[annab-nana]

Stay With Me - Colby Brock

When tagging along with the boys on a trip to London, you experience some crazy things when you’re alone in your room at the Langham Hotel.

@traphousedaily’s favorite snc series project with: @lonely-xplr, @sarcasmhadachild, @taradummy @reddesertcolbs, @reinad-snc, @cartiercolby, @colbylover99, @sunflowerwhoever, @xplrtrash, @goddess-of-time-and-magic, @xolbyz

A/N: This is my longest fic I have ever written, so if you like the longer fics, let me know! Also, this probably isn’t the best edited because I tried to get it out in a hurry so sorry about that haha

Warnings: some curse words; mentions of suicide, murder, and suffocation

Word Count: 4.6k+

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“We’re going to England, brothas!” Sam shouted which was followed by excited squeals and scream from you, Jake, and Corey as Colby clapped beside you all. When you went to the party at Kian and Jc’s, you were not expecting your best friends to come up and surprise with such news. You giggled as you watched Corey prance around, saying “Oh my God” repeatedly, and Jake spew absolute nonsense of connecting Queen Elizabeth to Bloody Mary.

“Pack ya bags. We’re going to London, baby!” Sam spoke enthusiastically before covering the camera lens that Colby was holding with his hand. And from there, your crazy adventure with the boys began and you hand no idea what you were in for or how badly it would end.

...

After your suitcase was packed and you had your backpack on, you were ready to go to London. You were so excited to see a new place and considering you have never left the country, this was a whole new experience for you. After a ride in an uber and a plane, the five of you arrived in the capital of the United Kingdom.

“Are you guys gonna be safe driving on the opposite side of the road?” Jake questioned as we walked through the parking lot of cars.

“Oh,” Sam and Colby say together, though Colby’s ended with a ‘my God’.

“I didn’t even think about that,” Colby added as he walked backwards, facing the camera towards us.

“Look at the steering wheel, brotha!” Jake pointed to the steering wheel of a black car in front of you all and the wheel was in fact on the opposite side.

“Oh no! How are we gonna do this?” Colby questioned as we all looked at the car, thinking the same thing as the boy with reddened locks.

“I don’t know my right from my left,” Sam spoke in a horrid British accent that you could not help but laugh at.

“Alright, you’re gonna drive,” Colby told his counterpart as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Okay,” the blond sighed in defeat.

“This isn’t looking good,” you spoke to the camera that Colby held as you two watched Sam try to pull out of the parking spot. He already nudged Jake with the car and then tried to turn right when you can only go left. After a bunch more tomfoolery from the group, you all finally moved your stuff into the car and got in as well.

“Alright boys so-” Colby started to explain what we were doing but was cut off by Corey clearing his throat.

“And girl,” he scolded as he nodded his head in the direction of you.

“No, Corey. Y/n is one of the boys,” Jake butted in.

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” you chuckled before turning your attention back to Colby so he could continue his explanation.

“Anyway, this is what we’re doing. We’re going to the Langham Hotel which is known as the most haunted hotel in the UK.”

“And also top ten in the whole world,” Sam added.

“Wait, are we going there or staying there?” Jake asked beside you. Your eyes followed from his to Colby’s to see his answer.

“Staying there.” Your eyes widened slightly as you looked at the two boys beside you. Corey giggled nervously and made jokes to hide his fear and you and Jake just laugh in disbelief.

“In our last series, The Origin, we talked to those guys like a demonologist and he says we’re a lot better at paranormal investigations than normal and he thinks we have a gift. So, this whole trip is trying to prove that our group is the best ghost hunters on YouTube and because of that, we are meeting with two paranormal experts who’ve been studying the paranormal and demonology for years and we’re doing an interview here in an hour,” Sam explained.

Jake appeared to be really excited to the right of you and on your left, Corey stayed quiet, which led you to believe he was kind of scared and trying to hide it. You felt a mix of both the emotions of the boys next to you. You were excited for the adventure like Jake was, but also a little scared like Corey since y’all were going to one of the most haunted hotels in the world.

...

“Hey, there it is,” Colby announced to you three in the back and the camera that he had pointed at the building before you guys.

“The Langham!” Sam shouted as he kept his eyes locked on the road, still trying to get used to driving on the other side of it. You all pulled up the hotel, got your bags, and headed inside in no time.

“So, we have a reservation under Golbach,” Colby started as he spoke to the man at the front desk.

“We put in a request. We don’t know if it was able to be fulfilled, but we’re trying to do room 333,” Sam asked the man in the grey suit, a maroon tie and handkerchief to compliment it. You and Corey shared a look after Sam mentioned the number 333, both knowing it did not sound good.

“Absolutely. You have been allocated in that room,” the front man told y’all and Colby turned to you three with an excited grin which you returned. The man at the front desk noticed your group’s excitement and smiled along with you.

“We heard online that room 333 was like haunted or something like that?” Sam mentioned, hoping to get some information from the clerk.

“Is this why you have the camera?” He grinned as he processed the transaction.

“A little bit, yeah,” Sam chuckled.

“There is the legend, yes,” he told you all as he focused on his work.

“Have you heard anything about that?” the blond pressed again.

“We can’t tell guests,” the clerk starts with a smile, but the grin soon drops as he nods his head. Something about the way he did that made you feel a bit uneasy.

“Do you believe in it personally?” Sam questioned as you all listened intently to what the man had to say.

“No. In one year that I’ve been here, I didn’t have any complaints and so on, but you can tell me. Just stay there with the camera, yeah?” he laughed as you all joined in, trying to relieve the awkward and weird tension.

...

“My name’s Sam. This is Colby, Y/n, Jake, and Corey. We’re filming for our channel, but these guys are always into it and woah.” Sam turned the camera to the large creak you all just heard coming from above him and Rosie, the lady you had just met who is a member of the ghost club. John, a guy from the council for the Society for Psychical Research, sat next to her. You sat on the couch nearest to him between Colby and Jake and Corey sat on the chair next to Sam across for you.

“We just rented out room 333. We haven’t even told them why that’s a significant number, but do you guys know much about room 333 here in the Langham Hotel?” Sam asked, filming the response from Rosie.

“Well, the story goes that a Victorian doctor spent the night in room 333 with his bride. It was his wedding night. Who knows the circumstances, but the story goes, he actually murdered his bride in room 333.” She pauses as y’all take in the information she had just given before she continues.

“So, fast forward now to 1973 and the journalist James Alexander Gordon was staying room 333 where he’s waking in the middle of the night and he said he saw a fluorescent ball of lights that slowly formed into the figure of a man, but there was something strange about this man. He was dressed in a full evening suit, very smart, but the bottom half, his legs, were actually missing. Now the journalist actually tried to speak with the figure, but the figure didn’t speak to him. He just walked towards with his arms open wide.”

“A famous cricketer, he was staying at the room and in the middle of the night, he was woken by the sound of taps turning on. He went into the bathroom. Water was gushing out through the tap.”

“Woah,” all of you say collectively as you think back on what happened to the boys previously. You didn’t go with them on that trip, but you heard the story several times and watched the video too. Sam fills in the woman in on the experience briefly before she can continue with her story.

“Anyway, he turned off the taps, went back to the bed, what he could hear was still the sound of running water, gushing out even though the taps were turned off.”

John nods along before speaking about a theory that ghosts are like a tape recording of traumatic experiences that just play over and over again. He explains that you can’t really interact with it because it’s always going on a loop. The theory piques the interest of the group to say the least.

...

After finishing the interview and exploring a bit of the beautiful town you were in, you all gathered around the camera as Sam gave some background on the hotel. He tells you all about a German prince who jumped from the building out the window and how the doctor from earlier killed his wife and himself afterwards, both stories happening in room 333.

Soon the camera is turned off and you all pile in the elevator to head to the third floor. The whole hotel has an unsettling vibe, especially with some weird and creepy paintings that are hung all around. There is a big one of a boy with creepy eyes right when y’all get off the elevator.

“Which way is room 333?” Corey asks a worker when y’all get to a hallway and do not know which way to turn.

“Oh… uh… room 333… it’s that way,” he speaks, dragging out each word and shuffling away in a weird fashion. You and Corey share a wide-eyed look before going to catch up with the rest of the group.

“This is the most haunted room in the most haunted hotel,” Colby tells the camera as he films Sam who is about to unlock the dreaded door. The key does not work on the first try or the second which scares you all, but thankfully, the third time’s a charm.

Sam pushes the door open to reveal the supposed haunted room. A bed sat in the center of it, a closet to the left and a desk to the right. Huge grey curtains covered the window and another door was next to it, which you assumed to be the bathroom.

“It smells like old people,” Jake mentioned. “You know what that means? That means its haunted, bitch.” You and Colby giggled at the beanie boy as Sam and Corey were off in the other corner of the room. Colby mentions how tiny the room is as Corey says how that one of us could be standing where someone got murdered.

“Oh, we got three rooms. There is no way we can all share this bed,” Colby mentioned.

“Where are the other rooms at?” Corey asked as he stuffed his hands into his new hoodie that he got earlier when we were going around the city.

“Just down the hall,” Colby told him.

“Oh, so still on the most haunted floor,” Corey rolls his eyes and nods, accepting the fact that something bad might happen tonight.

...

You all left room 333 and headed to 324 where Corey and Jake would be staying to check the room out. Your room was next door, 323, and looked remarkably similar to 324. After exploring the rooms, y’all take on the hotel in its entirety, passing more creepy paintings and experiencing a door closing behind you without anyone around it, several vortexes, handprints on mirrors, immediate temperature changes, strange noises, and so on. The thing that freaked you out the most was Sam getting random headaches as you explored.

Back in room 333, you guys sat on the bed and Sam explained all the new ghost hunting gadgets they got, from the EMF reader to the dowsing rods. Sam says that with the dowsing rods, you can find basically anything you want.

“Anything?” Colby questions as he picks up the rods.

“Alright, where’s my girlfriend?” he asks and both rods point to you almost immediately. A blush scatters on your cheeks as you laugh it off.

“See guys, even the rods think you two should get together,” Jake tells the camera. Colby ignores the awkwardness between you two as he asks Corey how to effectively use the rods.

Y’all decide to begin the investigation, starting with the EMF reader. Corey brings it close to the hangers that made a noise and it moves up one green light. It lights up to orange in a few places on the right side of the bathroom which freaks you all out and y’all decide to set the EMF reader up in the bathroom since it got the most activity. You all put together that the bathroom is the only spot in the room that has a vortex and that it is exponentially hotter than the bedroom.

While Sam and Colby messed around in the bathroom, you, Corey, and Jake stayed in the bedroom to see if anything would happen in there while the cameras weren’t running in there at the moment.

“If there’s anything in here, can you please make the bed shake?” Jake asked into the air above him, trying to get whatever was out there to make the bed shake like they did earlier. At the moment, he was laying on the left side and you were on the right. Corey was next to you in the desk chair. You guys waited a moment for any responses and then you got one.

“We’re here,” you heard the raspy low whisper come from the closet.

“Please tell you heard that too,” you begged as you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest to comfort yourself. Corey nodded profusely in the dim lighting as Jake audibly answered ‘yes’. Corey dashed to the bathroom door to tell the other two.

“Hey, you good?” Colby asked you quietly as the other boys discussed what happened. Your eyes left the trio before meeting the blue ones that gave you such peace. He had placed a comforting hand on your back, his thumb rubbing it to soothe your nerves.

“Yeah, just freaked out. This place has been giving me an uneasy feeling all day, but I’m good.” You smiled up at him and he gave you a grin right back, one big enough for those adorable little dimples to pop out.

“Bro, if you guys lay on the bed, you will feel something with you,” Jake told Sam and Colby. You stood off the bed, allowing Colby access to lay on it. He handed you the camera, which you handed to Corey because you were not the best them and your hands were slightly shaky.

“When I was laying with him, we could feel it shaking,” you told the duo as they sprawled out on the mattress.

“You should turn off the light,” Jake told Corey and he did. It was just you five in the room alone with the darkness and all who inhabit it.

“Do you guys feel the bed shaking at all?” Corey asked, his voice right next to you.

“Maybe, barely,” Colby’s voice sounded in front of you.

“If the German prince or the doctor that killed his wife is in here, please shake the bed,” Sam asked nicely of the spirits that are presumed to be in the room with you guys. After a moment of silence, a stunned ‘woah’ fell from Sam’s lips.

“What?” Corey questioned as you heard him fiddling with the camera. “What? Bro, I can’t find the light.” Sam grabbed the green light grid thing and turned it on to provide you all with some sort of light.

“I felt it go back and forth,” Sam told us all as he kept his eyes on Colby to see if he felt anything too.

“You felt it? I don’t know if I’m feeling anything,” Colby sounded a little disappointed like he wanted to feel what you, Jake, and Sam had felt.

“It literally rocked bro,” Jake told the camera and you nodded your head in agreement. You all hung out in the bedroom, trying to figure out the green light grid and how else you all wanted to go about the investigation when Corey got a text from his little brother, Cambrey.

“Are you okay?” you asked Corey as he stared wide-eyed at his phone screen. The other boys turned to look at Corey to see why you asked him such a question when y’all were just chilling at the moment.

“Uhh yeah, Cam just texted me this: Hey so I just saw your new video and at the end of it when you were talking about in the part where y’all kept saying save me and you were wondering like what you should do, I just wanted to let you know I went to a psychic lady and she told me that I have powers to send ghosts to the other side lol. All I have to say is you are free to go to the other side and it helps them go through. I know this sounds really stupid but ever since I talked to her, I’ve been seeing giant black figures in my room every night and when I sleep, it feels like someone’s watching me.”

“What the fuck?” Sam comments as you all share looks between you guys.

“Wanna know what’s even freakier? Cam is fourteen right now and I was fourteen when I first saw the shadowman.” ‘Woah’s fall from the group around him as we take in the information and process what we’ve been told because it seems so surreal. You all talk about how to deal with this. Corey feels guilty and responsible for Cambrey possibly seeing the shadowman. You try to comfort him, but the heavy feeling that he is dealing with is something that you can’t help that much.

“Maybe it might be good if we call it a night,” Sam suggests to the group as you nod your head. Things are a bit tense right now and maybe just getting settled into our own rooms and stopping the investigation for now could ease it some.

“Let’s set our alarms for three or something like that, but I think it’s good to take a break for a minute and like relax and we’ll come back to this in a minute.” And that is exactly what you guys did.

“Are you gonna be good by yourself, y/n?” Colby asked before you left their room with Jake and Corey.

“Yeah, I should be but I might call you so that if I hear something, you might hear it too and so I don’t go crazy,” you chuckled as he smiled at you, the grin making butterflies flutter around in your belly. He nodded before you turned around and went to your room.

A sense of relief flooded your body when you walked into the room. You were still very creeped out by the hotel and the fact that you were on the most haunted floor of the most haunted hotel in the most haunted country in the world. You were happy you were no longer in the most haunted room, but the things that were happening in there freaked you out.

You went to your suitcase and flipped through your clothes until you found something to sleep in. You had packed mainly warmer clothes for sleepwear, but since room 333 was so hot and you were still burning up from it, you grabbed the one pair of shorts you brought and a tank top. You grabbed a hair tie from your backpack and went to the mirror, throwing your hair into a ponytail. After you brushed your teeth and got your charger out, you settled into bed and shot Colby a text.

Y/n: can I call you?

Colby: of course

“Hello?” you asked as soon as you hear the ringing stop.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice sounds so concerned and it makes you smile.

“Yes, Colby. I’m fine. Can you stay on the phone with me until I get tired?”

“Yeah, sure.”

It didn’t last long until you were about to conk out, so the two of you said your goodbyes and you placed your phone down on the bedside table. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you swore you felt the bed shake. You do not know why you said what you were about to, but you did.

“If there is anything there, can you make the bed shake again please?” A moment or two of silence passes before it does it again. The bed wobbles lightly beneath you.

“Okay so there’s something here,” you whisper to yourself. You try your best to shrug it off and go to sleep. You almost slip into a blissful sleep before you hear a whisper similar to the one from before.

“You’re not alone, y/n.” You immediately grabbed your phone to text Colby. You knew he would probably be in a deep sleep by now, but it was worth a shot.

Y/n: the bed shook in here

Y/n: and I asked it to do it again and it did

Y/n: then it whispered youre not alone y/n

After not seeing the bubble with three dots pop up, you decide to let your phone record audio while you sleep just to catch anything that might happen and set an alarm from three in the morning. Finally, you get to sleep.

You woke up with a jolt, a sweat on your forehead and the bed moving slightly beneath you.

“You’re not alone”

“We’re here”

“Come with us”

The whispers filled your head as you watched an outline of a guy appears in the hallway near your door.

“Colby,” you call out as you sit up and rub your eyes.

“Sam? Jake? Corey?” you continue but not a peep comes from the man as he inches towards your bed.

“Seriously guys. Cut it out,” you chuckle, but he keeps coming closer and closer until he is right beside you. You reach a hand out to try to touch him, but your hand falls through his misty form.

“Whoever you are, please leave. You aren’t welcome here,” you demand, but your voice falters at the end. You hear a loud maniacal laugh vibrate throughout your small room as the figure crawls on top of you.

His presence is suffocating enough, but when a hand comes up to your throat and clamps down, it becomes difficult to breath. You fear for your life as you try to pry the hands from your neck, but just like his body, you can’t grab onto them. Your fingers slip through his and there is nothing you can do about it. Tears seep out your eyes and black spots cloud your vision before all you can see is black.

“Y/n! Open the door! Y/n!” you hear the worried shouts of your friends. You look around and reach for the lamp to turn it on. Looking around, you see that you are safe. It was nothing but a bad dream. You hand flies to your throat and when you feel that there isn’t a misty hand closing in on it, a sigh of relief leaves your lips.

You sling the covers off your body and run to the door. When you open it, you are met with the concerned expressions and worried eyes of the four boys you loved most. Your tear-filled eyes meet the specific blues ones before you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, hiding your face in his chest.

“Are you okay, y/n?” Sam asks as he places a hand on your shoulder. You flinch at his touch unintentionally before muttering a ‘sorry’.

“You were screaming,” Jake added as he met your eyes.

“Really?” you asked, but based on how scratchy your voice sounded, you could tell it was true. “What happened?”

“Sam and I went to Corey and Jake’s room because Corey called us, but we heard you screaming and rushed over here. What happened to you?” Colby asked calmly above your head.

“Did you get my texts from earlier?” Colby nodded at your question. “I had a nightmare and the same whispers I heard earlier, I heard in my dream. And then this figure came up to me and try to choke me to death. I saw black and then woke up to you guys banging on my door,” you finished as the tears came back and you went back to hiding in Colby’s chest. His hand rubbed up and down your back comfortingly as he looked around at the other guys, unsure of what to do.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you muttered into his chest.

“You can come stay in our room,” you heard Corey offer.

“Or ours,” Sam suggested.

“Can you stay with me?” you asked the blue-eyed boy as you looked up at him.

“Yes. Sam, can I have the camera? I’ll start looking through the footage and you can go to sleep since you couldn’t earlier.” Sam handed him the camera that he had hanging by him side before the other three left to go back to their rooms.

“Was I really screaming?” You asked Colby as soon as you sat on the bed.

“Like you were being killed,” he told you. You grabbed your phone and began to listen to audio recording you started earlier. It is mainly quiet for the most part, just your soft breaths and sounds of you moving in your sleep. Then, you hear the whispers again.

“Listen to this!” you shout as you hand the phone to Colby. His eyes widen at the sound.

“That’s what I’ve been hearing.”

“That’s insane,” He told you as he handed the phone back to you. You get all the way to the end and do not hear any screams.

“There’s no screaming on this.”

“When did it end?” You check and the time that stares back at you freaks you out even more.

“3:33 a.m.”

“Here. Let’s put this away because you have been through a lot tonight and just chill out,” Colby suggested as he placed your phone down and pulled you closer to him. You settled yourself into his side and placed your head on his chest. He had one arm around you while the other laid on his stomach.

“I’m sorry we put you through this,” he muttered as he fiddled with the bottom of his shirt.

“No, it’s okay. I have had a lot of fun this trip and I don’t want it to end early because I had a bad dream. That’s all it was,” you tried to see the bright side of it all.

“That makes me feel better because I really do love you, y/n, and I’d hate to see you not come on another trip with us or stop hanging out with us because of this.”

“I love you too, Colby, and it’s gonna take a whole lot more than a bad dream to get rid of me,” you both chuckled as a comfortable silence fell over the both of you. You fell asleep in the safety of his arms and right there, you did not have another bad dream that night.

[santigarcia]

we’ll meet again

a ww2 au santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader x frankie ‘catfish’ morales fic~

rating: m for smut; threesomes, some war violence

word count: 3.5k

summary: You’re in a relationship w/ Santi and Frankie and they both are drafted for the war; you anxiously await their return home.

a/n: ive been wanting to do a santi x reader x frankie fic for a while now, but i wanted to do something different w/ mine! just wasn’t sure how! until i got this ww2 idea~ so i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated

thank you @huliabitch​ for this aesthetic!!!!!

xx

We’ll Meet Again

Santiago Garcia whistles a tune while he checks the mail. He’s on his lunch break from work and he decided to come home to see you. The mail is downstairs in the lobby of your apartment building. He fishes his keys out of his pocket still whistling the tune.

Frankie Morales is right behind him; he had the same idea to come see you at lunch during his break.

“You wanna get mine out too?” Frankie asks, Santi nods not turning his head. He knows Frankie’s voice.

He knows a lot more about Frankie than the average person should. These two men are in a relationship with you. The three of you share an apartment.

You’re up there waiting for them to come home right now, and both men have a spring in their step. Until Santi pulls out two identical envelopes from the mailbox. He doesn’t have to open it to know what it is. He hands Frankie his letter. Santi stands still, while Frankie tears open the letter, his eyes scanning the document, all the color leaving his face.

“We can’t tell her,” Santi holds his hand up, he’s calm as he tries to process this.

“She sure as fuck is going to notice that we’re gone! How are we going to keep this a secret?”

“No man, I mean we don’t tell her we got drafted yeah? We tell her we volunteered.”

“How is that better? That we chose to leave her?”

“Fuck I don’t know,” Santi sighs and brushes his hand over his face.

The light clack of heels on the floor turns their heads, and they are greeted with your smiling face. Your hair perfectly curled and red lipstick swept across your lips. Normally their tongues would wag at the sight of you, but there’s too much fear and uncertainty running through their minds.

“Hi boys,” you greet them with a smile, unaware of what news they hold in their hands and is just waiting on the tips of their tongues.

“Hey honey,” Santi greets you with a kiss to your cheek. He’s better at acting than Frankie.

When you turn to Frankie, you see the worried look on his brow, and the letter in his hand.

“What’s that?” you ask him, your voice catching in your throat. You know what it is, but you don’t want it to be true.

“Baby,” Santi brings the attention back to him. He takes a deep breath about to tell you when Frankie cuts him off.

“We volunteered.”

Santi gives him a look of surprise that he said it, but you don’t see it. You feel sick to your stomach.

“Both of you?” you reach for Santi to steady yourself; you feel dizzy. Frankie reaches for you to keep you upright. “When? When do you leave?”

“Next week.”

Tears begin to fall down your cheeks. You aren’t angry, you’re scared. The loves of your life are leaving for war. There’s a high chance they won’t come home.

You try to soak up as much of them as you can in the next week, but there’s an ever-present darkness over your lives. The next few days fly by, even amidst the fear and anxiety that fills your little apartment. Before you know it, you’re at the station saying goodbye to your boys.

Soldiers in uniform are everywhere, and many others like you are saying goodbye to their sweethearts, their sons, or their fathers. There’s a bitter feeling in the air, tears are on many faces.

“At least the last image I see of you boys is how handsome you both look in your uniforms,” you sniffle, trying to make light of this situation. You smooth your hand over Santi’s broad shoulders and straighten Frankie’s crooked tie.

The train whistle blows it’s the last call to board. They have to go.

“Santi,” you reach for him. His gorgeous eyes are sad, but his eyebrows lift when you call his name. Your hand rests on his chest over his heart. “Don’t be too reckless. Keep an eye on Frankie.” Your other hand cups his face, stubble already growing in from his shave this morning. You move your hand up to touch at his hair just above his ear, his uniform hat hiding his greying curls from you. “You’re so smart and brave, use that to your advantage. But stay out of trouble.” You kiss his cheek, then he kisses your forehead when he sees the tears in your eyes.

“Frankie,” you turn to him, your hand still on Santi’s chest. “Be brave. It’s ok to be scared. Don’t let Santi be stupid.” His lips quirk up in a smile, and you feel Santi’s chest when he chuckles. You touch Frankie’s face and kiss his cheek too. “Don’t shave off that mustache. Let your kindness shine through during this. You’re so much stronger than you know.” You let out a sob and he wraps you up tight in a hug. “I don’t want you to go,” you tell him.

Santi’s hand comes to rest on your back, and he gently pulls you from Frankie to hug you one last time.

When you look at their faces you smile through your tears seeing you left a lipstick stain on each of their cheeks. You reach in your purse for your handkerchief, but Santi grabs your wrist, “leave it.” He says with a soft wink.

They each give you one more kiss then they turn and board the train.

That first night is one of the worst. For so long you’ve had not one, but two men in your bed keeping you safe, keeping you company. Now this bed feels so empty and cold.

It isn’t easy for them either. It’s not until they sit down on the train that the gravity of the situation hits them both. It’s here where they meet with two brothers, Will and Benny. All these men here are in the same situation, leaving home behind to go to war.

Basic training is up first for the boys, and Frankie struggles. He throws up on the first day, Santi claps him on the back telling him it’ll be alright – and he doesn’t just mean his stomach.

Santi intends to keep his promise to look out for Frankie, he’s family.

The boys write to you as much as they can, even when they’re shipped out overseas. Their letters serve as a comfort for all three of you. For you it’s knowing they’re alive, for them it’s a chance to think about something else, something better – you.

Santi is formal in his letters, precise. His handwriting is neat. His words are comforting, romantic, and full of sexual things he’d like to do with you when he gets home. He tells you about what’s going on as much as he can and tells you funny stories about Frankie, he hopes will make you laugh. He tells you about how he and Frankie have nicknames now. How he’s Pope and Frankie is Catfish. He tells you that he looks at the photo you gave him often, wishing to hold you again.

You like to imagine what Santi looks like when he writes. Maybe he’s in a tank top, arms dirty from the mud. A cigarette hanging loose between his lips. It’s much better to think of the alternative, which in reality Santi is in the mud, but he’s cold. Writing to you from a dim flashlight, hearing the sounds of shells exploding in the distance.

Frankie writes the way he talks, it’s simple and sweet and direct. His handwriting is messy, and his letters bring you a different kind of comfort. He tells you that he’s got his eye on Santi. That he too looks at the picture you gave him. How much he misses your warmth, your laugh. How he wants to take you out dancing when he gets home. You can tell by the way he writes that he’s sad. But there’s a change in him too that brings you comfort; he’s finding his courage.

What he doesn’t tell you is the ridicule they’ve gotten for “fuckin’ the same broad.” When everyone was showing off photos of their girls, someone snatched your picture out of Frankie’s hand. In Frankie’s photo, you’re smiling bright – a smile just for him. In Santi’s photo, you’re blowing a kiss to him.

Frankie almost punched the guy for talking about how sweet your pussy must be for two men to want it. Santi had to bite his tongue as he pulled Frankie back.

When you write to the boys, you tell them what you’ve been up to. How holidays and birthdays are terrible without them home. How you are helping out with the cause in whatever way you can.

What you don’t tell them is the nightmares that plague your mind. Graphic depictions of their deaths. It’s hard enough to imagine one, but often times both of them die in your dreams.

The nightmares only seem to worsen when the letters become less and less frequent. You resort to other things to keep their memory alive while they’re gone.

The scent of Santi’s aftershave becomes a comfort. You hug Frankie’s pillow at night, so you don’t feel so lonely.

Your boys have no such comfort other than a small fading photograph and your letters sprayed with your perfume. Their lives are a living nightmare, and it continues to grow more hellish.

The worst of their nights at war is when boys reach a small German village, the enemy hiding in the homes of innocent villagers. It’s dark, all the lights in the town are out. The moon overhead, and the lights the soldiers have with them are the only way they can see.

Santi volunteers to take first watch.

During his walk of the perimeter, he peers around a corner and a grenade explodes. He wasn’t close enough for major shrapnel to hit him, but the force of the explosion sends his body hurling backwards. He slams into a brick wall like a ragdoll, his knees hit first. He falls to the ground hard, and it is chaos now around him, but he can barely hear it because his ears are ringing.

Frankie searches frantically for Santi, and his commanding officer Redfly, orders Frankie to stay at his position. But he doesn’t listen, he made a promise to you.

“Why don’t you just leave him eh Frankie?” he hears one of the other soldiers tease him. “The competition’s been wiped out!”

Frankie keeps looking, and finally in the early dawn he finds Santi in a heap in the mud and blood.

“The hell are you doing?” Santi groans when Frankie gets to him. Gunfire and explosions light up the morning sky around them. “Leave me man. My legs are shot.”

“I won’t leave you here,” Frankie shakes his head and leans down to pick up Santi.

“Fuck!” is all Santi can say as Frankie moves his body. “Wait, just wait. I can’t walk.”

“No shit,” Frankie almost laughs.

“I promised to keep you safe, now get out of here.”

“And I promised her I’d keep you from being stupid.”

“How’s that workin’ out for you?” Santi laughs and splutters up some blood.

Frankie leans down again and hurls Santi’s body over his shoulder. Fear and adrenaline are his only explanations for how he managed to do this.

The next thing Santi remembers is waking up in a medical tent. Both of his legs are bandaged and elevated, and he feels miserable. His ears still have a dull ringing in them. He has an awful headache, but at least his legs don’t hurt, and he can in fact feel his toes. He misses you. He wants you here. Fuck. He wants to hold your hand. For you to comb your fingers through his hair to help him calm down.

He takes in his surroundings. Men are in beds everywhere. Nurses are walking all about, checking on everyone. His best guess is he’s in the recovering area, but he can still hear muffled screams in a nearby tent of extreme trauma cases.

He feels sick to his stomach, images of war coming back to him. It’s then he sees Frankie is sitting next to him, his arm in a sling.

“What happened to you?” Santi rasps, his voice gone from not using it in a few days.

“I carried some idiot off the battlefield over my shoulder. Tore it to shit.”

“She’s not gonna be happy about this,” Santi laughs. He can only imagine your reaction, but he would love for you to fuss over him.

“We’re fuckin’ alive man. She’ll take us however we are.”

And Frankie’s exactly right. He stays with Santi until he heals. And soon after that – the war is over.

They get to come home.

You cry when you hear the news on the radio. So many lives lost, you mourn with those around you who won’t have their soldier coming home.

You’d gotten one letter from Frankie in the last few months, and one only one came you feared the worst. But in his letter, he details how Santi was hurt and doing well in recovery. You felt sick reading this letter, to be so far from those who you love when they are hurting is a pain you never experienced to this degree.

And you can’t even begin to imagine what they went through. It tugs at your heart.

The entire time they were gone, every time your phone rang – it filled you with dread. That this would be the phone call alerting you of one or both of their deaths. You never got that phone call.

But today, you’d get to hear their voices on the other end of your phone.

“Hello?” you answer, and you hear both of their voices pouring in through the phone. From what you can hear over their excited babble and your crying, they are in New York. They’re boarding a train and will be home to you tonight.

Santi’s holding the mouthpiece while he and Frankie talk into it. You wish you could see them.

“We love you, honey. We’ll be home before you know it!”

They don’t talk long because they have to board and the lines for the phones are packed full of people trying to get in contact with their families.

You hold your own phone mouthpiece to your chest after they hang up. You’re setting it on the hook to hang up when you hear a knock at your door.

Confused, you move towards it to answer.

When you open the door, there they stand. Frankie and Santi. Shoulder to shoulder in their uniforms. Their bags at their feet. Santi slowly takes off his hat when he sees you, Frankie’s chest tightens. Your hand flies to your mouth and tears fall from your eyes as you leap into their arms. Your arms wrap around their necks and you cry there in the hallway, not caring who can hear you.

They both lean in to press kisses to your cheeks. Then Santi goes for your neck while Frankie whispers affections of love in your ear. You kiss both of them on the lips, smearing your lipstick all over their faces.

Even when they set you down and you pull them into your apartment by their ties, you still have tears falling down your cheeks.

In the soft light of the apartment, you take a good look at them. It’s the first time you’ve seen their faces in four years.

They look older. There’s a look in their eyes that makes you sad, it’s hidden but you know it’s what they’ve seen that haunts them. An unspeakable weight they carry. Santi’s hair has more grey than black. Frankie still has the mustache, and he stands taller.

“I wish I had known you sneaky boys were going to be home so fast! I would have made your favorites!”

“Baby, you’re our favorite,” Santi winks as he takes a seat at the kitchen table, shrugging his bag onto the floor.

Frankie quietly walks over to the record player and puts on a slow song. He takes off his hat and smooths down his hair, only to put it back on again. He reaches for your hand and the two of you start to sway to the music.

Santi has a soft smile on his face. Just happy to see you again. Happy to be home. It’s strange to be there all together again. How are you supposed to go on now? Do you all just pick up where you left off? There’s so much that’s been seen, pain that’s been felt.

All that you know right now is how good it feels to lean your head on Frankie’s chest. Frankie guides you over to Santi, and you reach out to weave your fingers into his hair.

“You going to dance Santi?” you lean down to kiss him.

“In a minute, he deserves this one.”

You look up at Frankie as you continue to sway.

“What does he mean by that?” you ask.

“Did he not tell you?” Santi lights a cigarette and places it between his lips, pocketing the lighter. “He saved my life. Threw me over his shoulder when I couldn’t walk.”

He sugarcoats the story, it’s still to raw to talk about.

“Why didn’t you tell me in your letter?”

“I was just keeping a promise,” Frankie smiles and leans down to kiss you.

“I’ll dance with you baby, but back in that bedroom.”

“Then what are we waiting for hmm?” you reach for Santi and tug Frankie back towards your shared bedroom.

There’s heat in their eyes, and an ache you’ve all been needing to fulfill. You take your time to undress each one. You want to touch him just to make sure he’s real.

While you undress Santi, his hooded eyes are full of delight. He’s been waiting for this for four years. There’s a smirk playing on his lips as you fumble with buttons out of excitement. You slap his hand away when he tries to help, only coaxing a chuckle from his lips.

You strip him down until he’s naked, only thing on him are his dog togs dangling around his neck. He goes to lay down on the bed while you work on Frankie.

His eyes are you on, but there’s a different kind of heat in his eyes. He shudders when your hand touches the skin on his chest. He groans into your lips when you pull him in for a kiss.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” Frankie rasps. You do as he tells you and you lay next to Santi.

Parting your legs, Frankie dives in to mouth at your heat, his mustache tickling your sensitive flesh. Santi takes this opportunity to angle himself so he can mouth at your breasts and neck and your lips. His hand on your forehead groaning into your lips and on your chest.

Frankie moves his tongue over your lazily, even after you’ve reached your high, he still works his tongue over you, enjoying the taste he’s been starved of.

When he’s through, Santi rolls back over and you crawl into his lap. You’re slick and ready for him, so you sink down on him. You both shudder to feel this, the warmth you’ve both been missing. Frankie stands near you, and you reach for him – grasping his hard length in your hand you stroke him lazily while Santi thrusts up in you. Frankie slides his hand down to rub at your sex.

Feeling both of them after going without for so long has you coming hard on Santi. You shake and Santi steadies you with his hands on your hips.

Your hand is still on Frankie, and he lets go before he meant to. He wanted to be inside you, but feeling you was too much for him and he’s coming all over your side.

A couple more thrusts from Santi and he’s tossing his head back coming hard in you. You lean forward to kiss his chin and capture his groan. Then you sit back up and lean up to kiss Frankie’s lips, his hand coming to cradle your jaw.

You clench once around Santi while he softens up, and he groans again. You giggle to tease him so, and he whispers, “that’s my girl.”

You spend the rest of the night like that. Naked and laying in between your two lovers. You kiss them as deeply as you can. Listening to them tell stories, and they listen to yours. Catching up on the four years missed, it feels like a lifetime ago.

It’s strange to feel whole now that they are home, but there’s something missing too. They are not the same men as before, but you’re not the same woman. The one thing that hasn’t changed after all this time – through war and sorrow is your love for each other.

 xx

tagging: @agentpike​, @bisexual-space-slut​, @blancatobarxoxo​, @cosmicmando​, @damndamer0n​, @darksideofclarke​, @feelmyroarrrr​, @ghosttofcalum​, @goldhoran​, @himbopoes​, @huliabitch​, @ironman-iam​, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​, @itspdameronthings, @ivars-heathen, @javihoney​, @knittingqueen13​, @limenlimon​, @literatureandqueen​, @maciiiofficial​, @magicsuperheroes​, @mandoplease​, @marvel-dameron​, @melanietrancy​, @mitchi-c​, @mylifeliterally​, @pajamasecrets​, @pascalplease​, @pascalz, @perropascal​, @phoenixhalliwell​, @poesflygirl​, @poeticandors​, @punkpascal​, @rewritingstars​, @savagethewhale​, @saved-fanfiction​, @sgtbookybarnes​, @shadow-assassin-blix​, @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce​, @stardust-galaxies​, @the-bird-suit​, @thehippiequilter​, @thepjofanqueen​, @this-cat-is-dea​, @tintinwrites​, @triggerhappyflygirl​, @waatermelon-sugaar​, @wakalas​, @xremember-me-notx​, @xxidontwikeitxx​

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 3x3 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

So I made a ginormous pause in between these again. I just wasn’t feeling up to the task, I guess. But it’s the anniversary of the premiere of AWAE, so what better day to do the penultimate one of these... Let’s just dive in because it’s been literal years since I first saw this episode and I remember literally nothing from it.

Oh my, Bash is just the best. And those baby chicks... well, I know what is most likely to happen to chickens on a farm when they grow older but... can we just maybe not think of that yet? Plus, seeing Mary keeps reminding me that soon I won’t be seeing her anymore. It’s safe to say I have mixed feelings about this cold open. Let’s move on.

Gosh, now they’re leaving Matthew alone with Delly, who is two types of people he’s uncomfortable around - a baby and a girl. But it’s fine, it will be just ‘a couple of hours’...

It is such a shame to think that Mary might have been saved... if she were white. People can be so awful. A human being is a human being. At least there are people like Dr. Ward and our protagonists who know that and act accordingly.

Oh... there’s that cute scene of Matthew showing Delly around Green Gables that I’ve seen in so many gifs... I can’t comment much on it so I’ll just sit back and enjoy. But before I go - Matthew is the best, most gentle man I’ve ever seen. He might be awkward around women and children, but he knows how to treat them right better than most people who are not awkward around them.

Oh gosh, the nappy! That kind of made me laugh out of place but, well, I just wanted to say - thank gods for Jerry and his many siblings. My boy knows how to change nappies.

Oh, they’ve got the printing press! Now that’s exciting! I feel like excitement is a good word to describe this episode, at least so far. We’ll see how I feel by the end of it. All I know is this is making me smile and I’ve really been needing that.

My, my, Ruby... I keep forgetting when it was that she got over Gilbert. Apparently it was not before mid-season, since she’s still in it way too deep. 

Oh wait... is this when things began happening between her and Moody? I mean, the way he gives her his handkerchief, you’d think ever since he stopped trying to make Diana and her ‘very blue’ dress notice him, he’s been sitting back and watching Ruby from afar, hoping he can, somehow, compare to Gilbert. The best part is, in just a bit, he won’t need to. Boy, do I need a fourth season even if just to see these two develop... and for Diana and Jerry to make up, and just in general to see the kids being all grown up... now I feel like crying because we’ll very probably never get it... ok, moving on.

Anne: Sometimes life finds gifts in the darkest of places./ Marilla: Indeed. Wait, was this Marilla’s way of telling Anne she loves her? This is just the best. 

The contrast between scenes dealing with Mary and the rest of the episode is just so stark, it’s jarring. It’s like, you never know the darkness someone might be sinking into  while everybody else is bathing in the light. You know, everybody involved in making this episode, and the show in its entirety, made it so poetic, and yet it’s not. It’s absolutely devastating. And now Gilbert can’t even tell Mary that she’s got no more than two weeks left. This is the worst. 

You know, Anne is right. Caring deeply will always be the right thing. I mean, it’s natural for Gilbert to doubt himself at this time, especially since the tragedy is happening to his own found family. You know, there’s something my mum taught me to do when I’m watching something and I can’t bear the subject matter of it - focus on the acting. And right now I’m just blown away by the superb performance by these incredible young people. But I really can’t bear to focus on the plot right now. And the acting being that good doesn’t particularly help me to detach myself from the story.

You know, tragic as what’s happening to Mary certainly is, it’s somehow lucky she has Anne in her life now that she’s about to leave her own daughter to grow up motherless. Because if only Anne’s parents had an orphan tell them what an orphaned child needs most, Anne’s own experience might have been very different. Mary is a very smart woman for realising that and talking to Anne about it. Because life is not about lamenting what we didn’t have. It’s about making sure we do what is in our power to make it easier for others if we can.

Ah, yes. Racism and ‘White Man’s Burden’ mentality are still very much a thing present here. I guess this here is the first mention of that horrible prison of a school that Ka’kwet would be sent to. This is. The. Worst.

I just can’t bear to listen to this guy. ‘Heathens’ - you mean people with a rich culture and belief system beyond your privileged straight white male comprehension? ‘Teach them all things civilised’ - you mean erase their own, I repeat, rich culture, and replace it with your white man’s ideas of civilisation? What deity fell from the heavens and made you God? And the way Rachel totally agrees with this guy, it just makes me sick. As if that guy would hesitate to discriminate against you on the basis of you being a woman! I just can’t with this. Let’s move on.

‘Be sure you marry for love. Only for love.’ Don’t worry, Mary, he will. Not before a huge, long period of confusion, mind you. But he’ll come to his senses eventually. People do stupid things when they’re young. That’s how they know they’ve lived it to the fullest.

Rachel just baffles me, you know. And Marilla, too, isn’t quite faultless here. How can you be so accepting of one kind of POC, yet so cruel to another? Then I remember their initial reactions to meeting Bash. They were not the most accepting at first. Yet they can see how they’ve now grown to accept and care deeply about Bash and Mary and Delphine. Why can’t they give Ka’kwet’s people a chance like this?

‘You may well have saved some Indians today’... Saved them? From what? Being free to practice their own culture? You know, white people can be so very ignorant... and I say that as a very white person. I’m just ashamed of everything my ethnicity has done to literally every other ethnicity.

‘I don’t wanna die’... You know, sometimes I do, and right now that makes me feel so ashamed. I should really think of Mary and also every real person who had an untimely death whenever I’m having those thoughts again. We should all learn to appreciate life so much more.

So this is the one with Mary’s Easter... this is beautiful. I might have to rescind my ‘excitement’ statement from earlier, but there is still a theme of beauty, love and family throughout this. Well, technically throughout the entire series, but especially here. I love this. 

Delphine with a flower crown is the cutest thing ever...

Minnie May: She looks like a chocolate candy. I just... took notice of how the background music abruptly stopped. You know, coming from an older person, this would sound... not at all ok. But this 7-year-old didn’t mean any harm, and they realise it after a brief moment of panic in their eyes. Still... black people don’t call us, idk, butter or something. We should not compare their skin colour to chocolate.

Their singing is absolutely beautiful. But let’s be real - in a real-life situation, most of the people would be way off-key and those harmonies would be impossible to arrange. Still, for this beauty, I am willing to suspend my disbelief for miles. Also, that prayer at the end... well, I’m not Christian, but I am religious, and I know the power of a prayer as poetic as this one. However hard it must have been for Mary to know she wouldn’t live, it must have been a great consolation to know she would go in such a way, surrounded by so much beauty and love, and light. Well, that ending was bittersweet! But I absolutely loved this episode. Except for the racist parts that made me absolutely livid. It’s so frustrating to know there is still so much hate in the world based just on minor superficial differences between people. Yet it would have been even more frustrating if we didn’t have people in the world like our protagonists (and especially the protagonist, Anne). It is such an absolute shame that this show, and others like it, got cancelled over some trivial issues and wasn’t given the proper chance to develop its positive messages even further. But still, even with just the 27 episodes it was given, it was able to cover so much ground. I don’t know what to say. AWAE is just supreme.

Let’s sum up: the final weeks of Mary’s life; racial prejudice might have just cost this lovely woman, a wife and a mother, her life; Matthew showing Delly around Green Gables is the sweetest thing; the first press-printed issue of The Avonlea Gazette, with a significant typo; and thus, a ship was born; subtle ways of saying those three little words; ‘Caring deeply will always be the right thing.’; the legacy of a mother; ‘White Man’s Burden’ mentality is alive and dangerous; double standards regarding the acceptance of POC; Mary’s Easter; going surrounded by a loving community.

[malfoymanortings]

i don’t care PART 1

SUMMARY: Lavender Brown begins to find herself after Ron Weasley breaks her heart. An unlikely Slytherin helps her do just that.

PAIRINGS: to be decided. 

had to get this written as it just would not leave my mind. Lavender truly deserved better, she was just a girl with a crush. this is my way of giving her a better ending. maybe another part? depends on if this is received well.

Lavender Brown was furious with herself.

The entire time, she should have seen it coming. She should have known that this relationship would just end with a broken heart for her. Everyone knew that Ron and Hermione had, at the very least, a thing for each other. 

But Ron had chosen her. At least for a while. Really, how was she supposed to know it was all just to make Hermione jealous? And, for Ron to practice (very thoroughly, she might add) kissing and touching on someone else before he went to Hermione.

How the fuck was Lavender supposed to know she meant nothing to the boy who had meant everything to her?

Now, as she sat at the opposite table, she clenched her spoon in her hands as Ron whispered to Hermione and Harry, his eyes on her. Almost comically, the trio all turned to face her unabashed, openly staring at her for a moment before turning back to their whispers.

“She seems a bit.. Put out, doesn’t she?” Ron’s voice was never quiet.

Lavender slammed her utensil down, and swung her book bag over her shoulder. She wasn’t just going to sit here, and let them whisper about her. She could see the apprehension in Ron’s face, the annoyance in Hermione’s, and the fear in Harry’s.

“I wonder why, Ron, I would be ‘put out’,” seethed Lavender, crossing her arms in an attempt to keep her emotions in check. “It’s almost like you dated me, used me, just to get Hermione jealous.”

“Lavender, I-” Hermione broke the silence, giving an annoyed look to both Ron and Harry, the two boys silent. 

“Really, you’re the last person I want to hear from,” Lavender cut Hermione off, her gaze locked on Ron. “I deserve an apology. At the bare minimum.”

Ron was silent for a moment, his blue eyes averted from hers. “Erm, sorry.”

Lavender blinked slowly, tapping her foot. When Ron said nothing more, she scoffed. “That’s really all you’ll say, hm? You’re absolutely disgusting.”

Without waiting for what would surely be a useless response, Lavender left the Great Hall. Her anger carried her all the way to the Divination room, which was usually always empty. Yet, as she entered the room, there was someone already there, lying on one of the poufy pillows with the hood of his robe drawn over his face.

Draco Malfoy.

Lavender faltered in the doorway, unsure of what she should do. All she had wanted was to be alone, in her safe haven of Divination, perhaps read her tea leaves if she were feeling up to it. But of course, yet another male had to ruin her plans.

“You haven’t got to leave on our account,” Lavender turned to see Blaise Zabini sitting on the opposite side of the room, flicking through a weathered book. “He’ll be out for at least another hour or so, as long as you aren’t loud.”

Lavender nodded stiffly, unsure of what to make of the Slytherin boys. She hadn't had much interaction between either boy, although everyone knew them. Draco “my father will hear about this” Malfoy was the infamous Slytherin prince. Blaise Zabini was one of Draco’s close friends, and he had always reminded Lavender of an elegant renaissance painting. He moved with grace and poise, same as Draco, although with Blaise there always seemed to be an air of serenity around him. Draco, on the other hand, was the furthest thing from a picture of serenity.

Regardless, Lavender wasn’t going to let the Slytherin boys stop her from enjoying her Divination time. She was done modeling her life after what would make men most happy.

She sat furthest away from the two boys, moving to make her tea. Once it was done, she sipped it slowly, savoring the warm chamomile on her throat. She busied herself with staring at the ceiling, decorated in various runes and symbols. A few of them were recognizable enough, whereas others seemed to fade and twist in and out of each other. It made it rather difficult to decipher them.

Of course, the tea and the ceiling couldn’t distract her for much longer, and she soon found herself thinking on Ron fucking Weasley.

What did Hermione have that she didn’t? Lavender’s wavy blonde hair was properly managed, instead of a wild frizzy mess like Grangers. Lavender wore makeup, Lavender wore pretty clothes, Lavender took great care in her appearance and the way she presented herself. Lavender knew she was pretty. She was smart too, even if it wasn’t quite like Hermione.

It seemed the only thing Hermione had that Lavender didn’t was Ron’s love.

That seemed hardly fair to Lavender. She was the one who Ron had snogged rather indecently. The one he had touched, even if it was rough and… pokey, the first time. He was incredibly eager, anxious to learn, even if his first few executions were awkward and lackluster. Now, after Lavender had spent time and effort into helping Ron understand the more physical side of a relationship, he was sent off to Hermione, primed and ready to go?

How was that fair?

The sad truth was, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Ron Weasley had used her to make Hermione jealous. It wasn’t fair that he had used her body, her emotions, as a weapon against Hermione. It wasn’t fair that in the end, no matter how much she proved to Ron she loved him, cared for him, it wasn’t enough. Did he think she enjoyed all of the public affection and nicknames? She didn’t, but with Ron being the youngest boy in his family and the most overlooked, she had wanted him to feel special.

Even if that meant making a fool of herself by constantly throwing herself on him and giving him a nickname like Won Won. She had thought, making him the center of her world, showering him with love and affection, it would make him happy. After all, he was overshadowed by his brothers and Harry Potter. Didn’t he want to feel special for once?

Yet, every time he had instigated their snogging, their groping, whatever it may be, Lavender now realized it was because Hermione was in the room. Whether it be she was coming back in the common room, or innocently sitting with Harry, Ron would force himself onto Lavender. Of course Lavender would respond eagerly, she loved the boy.

Although he never loved her.

The revelation hurt her deeply, and as her chest cracked, a few tears slipped down her face. She stared into her teacup, determined to not have a breakdown while Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy (although the latter was still sleeping soundly) were around her. It wasn’t working, and before she knew it, she was sniffling quietly into her now empty cup of tea.

“Here.”

Lavender dared look up to see Blaise Zabini standing in front of her brandishing a dark green handkerchief. It was labeled with an elegant Z, and she eyed it suspiciously.

“What, did you charm it to give me a rash? Stick to my face, perhaps?” the words came out defensively, and Lavender found she didn’t care. She was tired of trying to make men feel safe and secure. Respected. They didn’t bother to make her feel that way, Ron had made that clear.

“I wouldn’t waste a hanky on a charm as trivial as that,” Blaise responded tartly, raising an eyebrow. “You’re crying, and Gryffindor or not, my mother raised me better than to let pretty girls cry over useless boys.”

Lavender took the handkerchief hesitantly, dabbing at her eyes. Sure that it was indeed just a regular piece of cloth, she wiped at her face, crying her tears. “Thank you.” Dimly, she recognized that the ever so handsome Blaise Zabini had called her pretty.

Blaise nodded. He sat next to Lavender then, looking at her tea. “Are you reading your leaves?”

“Yes,” started Lavender, pleasantly surprised that he knew what she was doing. “Are you familiar with Divination?”

Blaise nodded again, his nimble fingers reaching over to hold her cup. “May I?”

It was Lavender’s turn to nod.

Blaise examined the cup for a minute, a crease appearing in his brows. This close, Lavender admired his long eyelashes. Blaise was quite handsome, as though he had been carved from clay by the hand of Michelangelo. 

“I see a spider,” confided Blaise, setting her cup back down. “In ancient times, a spider symbolized growth, power, and mystery. Translated, the way you handle situations in your life will determine if you will be prosperous or not. The power of growth lies squarely in your hands.”

Lavender swallowed hard. She hadn’t been expecting that. “You didn’t even have to look that up.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her, glancing at her. “I usually don’t.”

Lavender wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She hadn’t been expecting Blaise to be like this. She was expecting more of a Draco vibe from him, but she found she was pleasantly surprised at his true self.

Speaking of the blond boy, he began to stir on his pillow. 

“Looks like the dragon has awoken,” conceded Blaise, standing up from his spot next to Lavender. “I’ll see you around. Remember your leaves.”

“I will.” Lavender nodded to the Slytherin boy, watching as Draco rose from his spot. 

The blond looked like he wanted to say something about her, but Blaise guided him out of the room before the blond could open his mouth. She assumed it would have been in question as to why she was in the same room as the sleeping boy, but she would never know. Perhaps it was better that way. Draco had a wicked tongue when he wanted.

As Lavender stared into her tea leaves, she thought of Blaise. She wondered if she would in fact see the handsome boy again. Probably not. He was a Slytherin. She was a Gryffindor.

And men, she had found, were utterly disappointing.

[snowdice]

Masterpost (Old)

This is an old, slightly broken Masterpost, but I might not remember to change all the links. The new one is here.

If you would just like to see all of my writing, I tag everything with #adriana writes on my blog. Click here for everything in chronological order of my posting. Click here for my AO3 account.

Completed fics are marked complete in their summary. You can click on the universe tags to read fics for that universe in chronological order of my posting.

The Prison You Deserve: (Complete) Virgil should have known better. Trying to help only ever ended badly for him. After a misunderstanding, Virgil gets thrown into the most infamous prison across all of the kingdoms, where the most evil criminals are thrown to get what they deserve at the hands of nightmarish creatures from the void. Luckily (for once) Virgil really didn’t deserve it. Trusting that this isn’t just a cruel trick and he isn’t actually going to be tortured though is going to take a while. (In which Patton is a eldritch horror, telepathic nightmare, and still is the sweetest thing on the planet and off it.)

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Bonus Features

Road Trips and Missing Persons:  Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Mismatched High Heel Shoes: (One-shot: Complete) The boys are having fun. (This was for the #magpie500 event.)

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Cops and Not Robbers AU

You I’ll Come Back For: (Complete) They’d met in a jail cell, you see, but unlike now Patton had not been anywhere near trapped, not that Virgil had been aware of that fact. He’d just seen his sweet little cell mate who’d clearly not done anything to deserve being on that side of the bars. Virgil had said “What did you do to get stuck in this joint?” and Patton had started crying. It had taken zero lies and five hours for Patton to coax out the information he’d needed. He’d thought when he’d pranced up to the bars and told Roman he was ready to leave that the absolutely astonished expression which was quickly slipping into fury would be the last thing he’d ever see of the man whose crimes numbered enough to keep him in prison for the rest of his life. He’d escaped during his transfer to federal prison. (This was a dice fic. It also appears below!)

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Mistaken Identities: (One-Shot: Complete) Roman was just walking out of an ice-cream shop when an unfamiliar man’s irate voice made him pause mid lick and look up. “Dammit Remus, I told you to meet me two blocks that way and you’re getting ice cream?” | Now as an identical twin, especially one with a brother who had a… certain personality, he wasn’t exactly unused to this sort of thing happening. So, he promptly opened his mouth to say, “Oh no I’m not…” | “Remus, I don’t care right now,” he interrupted. “Get in the car.” | “But-” | The man snapped his fingers and a hand descended on his shoulder. “Get him in the car.” | Roman meets Deceit and later Logan when he is mistaken for his brother who is apparently doing SOMETHING with his life.

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A Bloody Handkerchief:   (One-Shot: Complete) Dee and Roman help Logan move and Dee finds something from their past.

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Cuffed Universe

Tea, Cookies, and Handcuffs: (Complete) Logan finds a strange man on his property and of course invites him in for tea.

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What Remains Universe

What Remains of Us: (Complete) Virgil was young, but smart. “How are we going to do this?” he asked. “You’re 12. You can’t get a job or a house.” | “Remember when dad used to read us The Boxcar Children?” he asked. “It’ll be like that. Well, not exactly; there aren’t many old train tracks around, but we’ll find something. I even found an old copy of the book in the $.10 bin at the bookstore. The ending’s ripped out, but we’ve got the part where they figure out how to live in the woods. It’ll be like a guide.” | Patton and his little brother Virgil go on a “hiking trip” after the aunt they’d been living with hit Virgil.

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Remains of Memories: (Complete) Patton is about to graduate high school. As his life changes, he figures it’s time to confront some memories with the people he loves.

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Touch Me Gently Universe:

Touch Me Gently: (Complete) He had a total of four soulmarks: not an unheard-of thing, but rather rare. There were purple fingerprints on his wrist, looking like a day-old bruise from where someone had grabbed him too hard. What his mother had seen when he’d entered the kitchen was actually two soulmarks that overlapped slightly: a light blue one that darkened his lips and a yellow handprint that covered the lower parts of his cheek and jaw. The ring finger and the tip of the pinkie hit his lip, mixing with the blue to look like a sickly greenish-yellow bruise. What his dad had seen peaking out of the top of his t-shirt was a dark blue mark in the shape of fingers around his neck. Roman had been overjoyed when he realized what the marks were after the initial confusion. His parents had been a little less enthusiastic. (Roman meets his soulmates one-by-one and it’s not at all what everyone assumed when they first saw his soulmarks.)

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Bonus Features

Never a Chance to Hate You: (Complete) Logan picks Dee up for a date early in their relationship. Dee reflects on how his perceptions of his soulmates changed once he met them.

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Is There Anything Left of Patton? (Zombie AU; One-Shot Series)  (Complete)

Logan has a secret in his basement. Three months into living with him, Virgil finds that secret. He almost wishes the secret was a simple as he first thought it was. Almost. AO3 Link

Something Left

Someone You’ll Never Meet

Food You’ll Never Eat

Things You’ll Never Do

There are Things You Have Lost

There Are Things That Are Missing

And There is a Question

Is There Anything Left of Patton?

And There is an Answer

But What Does It Mean?

One More Dance  

One More Chance

When There Is Something Left 

Bonus Features   End Credit Scenes

Dilemmas (One-Shots Series)

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” he yelled.| “Patton,” Remus said evenly.|“It doesn’t!” he screamed turning on him viciously. “There’s a big difference between not being sad someone’s dead and… and… and no! No! I wouldn’t be okay with seeing someone I hated die. I wouldn’t!”| “Yes, you would,” Remus said, standing up himself. He pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You would! And you know you would! Do you think you are the only one who can get a read on another side when functions cross? Those thoughts in your head are my domain and I knew exactly what you were feeling when I asked that question!” Virgil was forcibly summoned immediately, eyes wide. Patton and Remus have a philosophical discussion and then will have to deal with the fall out. (AO3 Link)

Moral Dilemmas

Ethical Reasoning

The Dangers of Stereotypes 

When I Can Say I Love You: (Complete) In a world where their very existences are illegal, let alone their relationship, Patton and Logan share a moment discussing what they wish their world could be.

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The Horror of Stereotypes: (Complete) There had always been a certain stereotype about people like him for as long as anyone could remember. After the Heart War of 1963, those stereotypes had been legalized and places like this had been created to enforce the universal truth: everyone had a soulmate. One soulmate. No more and no less. At least they were supposed to. When Remus’s brother gets arrested because of his two soulmarks, Remus risks everything by infiltrating the facility he legally should be in as well due to his own two soulmates to save him. There he meets Logan and it turns out they have a lot in common: they both got hired this week, they both have two soulmates, and they’re both here for the same reason. Oh. And as it turns out, they’re each other’s soulmates too.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Bonus Features

Labeled Universe (A Superhero AU)

Sometimes Labels Fail: (Complete) Logan was good at labels, at categories. Logan sorted the citizens of his city into 6 different categories in his mind: heroes, villains, vigilantes, criminals, government authorities, and civilians, and knew how to deal with each. But… but what was he supposed to do with him. Virgil was just trying to survive, though he didn’t think the part of him that compelled him to throw himself into fights whenever he saw the superhero Bluebird struggling had gotten the memo. His English teacher was right; he really was stupid. When the villain criminal… when Shadow Caster gets injured while throwing himself into the line of fire for Logan, Logan can’t find it in himself to turn him over to be arrested. Luckily, he knows a doctor very, very well. Virgil is going to get kidnapped adopted by the end of it.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Bonus Features

Sometimes Labels Shift (Post Sometimes Labels Fail Stories)

Here’s a timeline for these fics with some commentary.

Mini Fic Series: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three

Two Dinner Plates: (Complete) A muscle ticked in Logan’s jaw and Virgil tried not to flinch. “We seem to be coming from fundamentally different philosophies on how food should be distributed in a family structure.” In which we finally actually talk about Virgil’s thing™ with food. It goes about how one would expect it to.

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Back to School: (Complete) It’s Virgil’s first day back to school after everything and he has some adjustments to make.Aka a blatant excuse to enact the hug Virgil initiative.

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Sticky Note Pandemonium: (Complete) There were also sticky notes on the kitchen counter, the refrigerator, Virgil’s backpack, and even the oven, not to mention every wall. There was even one sticky note stuck on Logan’s butt.His husband had gone on a rampage.

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Arguments and other ‘A’ Words: (Complete) Logan and Virgil have a row. Virgil’s new family has a weird way of fighting.

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The Things We Haven’t Talked About: (Complete) Patton and Logan have noticed some concerning behavior from Virgil in their month with him. Beyond the flinching and haunted look in his eyes courtesy of his last foster father, there’s something else of concern for Patton and Logan and they really aren’t equipped to deal with it. They enlist some help from a couple of friends.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2

Wind Symphony: (Complete) Patton and Logan are still trying to figure out how to be parents and are worried about strange behavior coming from their new son as of late. Logan takes measures to figure out what is wrong.

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Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls: (Complete)  Remy meets his best friend/bosses new child and immediately has the must protect at all cost urges.

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Virgil’s Birthday:  (Complete) Virgil has his first birthday with Logan and Patton and he’s going to get everything he ever wanted.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Punishments: (Complete) Virgil gets into a fight at school. At home, everyone has to deal with their individual hang ups when it comes to punishments.

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Family Game Night: (Complete) The boys have a nice family game night. Patton gets to deal with figuring out how to not let them cheat with their superpowers.

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Family Science Night: (Complete) Dumb science nerd father and his curiosity-killed-the-cat idiot child play with electricity and superpowers.

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We Need to Put a Bell on Virgil: (Complete) Patton and Logan lose Virgil.

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Pumpkins, Corn, and Caffeine: (Complete) Remy steals Virgil to take him to a pumpkin patch. (A Labeled Universe Fic)

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Vengeance is Soft: (Complete) Logan sighed. Patton was a wonderful man: kind, gentle, and empathetic. He listened and took into account other’s perspectives and feelings on every issue and always did his best to make people feel at east. Patton while sick was an absolute monster. | Patton’s friends and family deal with him while he’s sick and here’s the thing about Patton. Patton is a hypocrite.

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First Week Fics: A collection of fics about Virgil's first week with Logan and Patton in the Labeled Universe.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2

The Importance of Practice: (Complete) Virgil attempts to perform a simple light manipulation trick during training. He fails. (?)

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Lessons From a Book: (Complete) Virgil cannot get anywhere in his training. He guesses he finally manged to piss Logan off.

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Divestment of Childhood: (Complete) Now, the thing about Virgil was, he knew how to sneak out of a house in the middle of the night. He was very, very good at it. If sneaking out of places was something one could go to college for, Virgil could easily get a PhD. He knew all of the tricks. He did none of these things.Virgil runs away from home.

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Virgil’s Culinary Abilities: (Complete)  Patton’s running late so Virgil cooks dinner.

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Relabeled; Refiled (Prequels to Sometimes Labels Fail)

Coffee Shop Meet Cute: (Complete) Is this what falling in love felt like or was Patton just about to pass out from exhaustion? Patton and Logan’s first meeting in the Sometimes Labels Fail Universe.

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Coffee Shop Incident Report: (Complete) Patton and Logan’s first meeting in the Sometimes Labels Fail Universe, but what Logan put in his files about it afterwards.

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The Things We Never Mentioned: (Complete)  “Believe it or not, academia and relationships are not mutually exclusive.” That was likely true, Logan knew. It was also not the problem. The problem was his ability to move things with his mind, a blue suit he kept in his bag, and the mountains of red files he kept hidden in his apartment. No one knew that Logan was Bluebird, the cities resident superhero. He hadn’t even told his parents and he wasn’t planning on doing so. Sharing such a secret with anyone was a danger to everyone involved. He refused to do so. At the same time, he knew that starting a romantic relationship with anyone who didn’t know the truth, was unfair to that person. Inevitably they would find out and there would be a disastrous fallout, but beyond that, starting a relationship on a foundation of lies was a horribly cruel thing to do to another person. These two conflicting rules Logan followed had never posed an issue for him before recently, but…But he did like Patton.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Logan’s 25 Step Plan to Ask a Boy Out: (Complete) “No! Logan look,” she said. “He likes you and you like him. You don’t need a list or a plan or schematics for this. Just walk up to him and ask him out before you hesitate so much that he thinks you don’t like him anymore.” | Logan’s eyes widened. “Is that something that can happen.” | “Oh god, this is hopeless.” | How is Logan so good at, but simultaneously so bad at this?

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Facts on White Chrysanthemums: (Complete) Logicality first kiss in the Labeled Universe.

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Gaps in His Files: (Complete) Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Epilogue

Remy’s Follow Up Questions: (Complete)  Remy sees Patton for the first time after the closet freak out.

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First Anniversary: Logan and Patton go on a trip for their first anniversary.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Board Games: (Complete) “You’re really going to seduce me to win a monopoly game?” he asked.  | “Is it working?” Logan likes to cheat at board games. Especially at Monopoly.

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The Origin Story of a Yapping Mop: (Complete) Virgil was not the first living creature Logan carried in his arms to Patton. This is how they ended up with a dog.

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Illusory Records (Janus’ story (with a lot of Remus))

A Life That is Yours: (Complete) Decades before he was known the well-known and semi-respected vigilante Deceit, Janus makes a choice. He hopes it is good for the both of them.

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Deceit’s Follow Up Questions: (Complete) So what, if his actions could possibly be construed to look like they were in some way related to helping Bluebird. Maybe an outside might think he was in some way angry about what had happened to the superhero, but that wasn’t what was happening. It just… hit a nerve; it wasn’t a big deal. It did not mean he liked the man. It barely meant he respected him. Ugh. When had he started respecting a superhero?

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Illusions of Grandeur… Or Perhaps Just Illusions: Remus is training to be an undercover super-agent, but training is boring. So, being Remus he… finds some “fun” (read trouble) with the city’s resident vigilante.

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Other

Party Time Boredom: (Complete) Emile is bored at a party, but Bluebird suggests he go talk to a boy.

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Roll the Dice Event

1. Buckets of Roses: (Complete) As far as anyone knew, Logan was supposed to be in class right now. Which begs the question of why and how Roman is now in his room with him. (“And now that I have explained why I am currently in my own dorm room, would you care to explain why you are here?” “Not, um, not particularly.”)

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2. Touch Me Gently: (Complete) He had a total of four soulmarks: not an unheard-of thing, but rather rare. There were purple fingerprints on his wrist, looking like a day-old bruise from where someone had grabbed him too hard. What his mother had seen when he’d entered the kitchen was actually two soulmarks that overlapped slightly: a light blue one that darkened his lips and a yellow handprint that covered the lower parts of his cheek and jaw. The ring finger and the tip of the pinkie hit his lip, mixing with the blue to look like a sickly greenish-yellow bruise. What his dad had seen peaking out of the top of his t-shirt was a dark blue mark in the shape of fingers around his neck. Roman had been overjoyed when he realized what the marks were after the initial confusion. His parents had been a little less enthusiastic. (Roman meets his soulmates one-by-one and it’s not at all what everyone assumed when they first saw his soulmarks.)

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3. Markups: (Complete) Roman leered down at him, clearly incredibly pleased with himself. “You,” he said as Logan did his best to swallow down the rest of his laughter, “have been criticizing my work all day. Which is basically like you’ve been criticizing me. So…why don’t I return the favor?” He wiggled the uncapped pen in front of Logan’s nose. “You wouldn’t dare,” Logan said lowly. (Logan and Roman do some editing.)

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4. Moral Dilemmas: (Complete) “But that doesn’t make any sense!” he yelled.| “Patton,” Remus said evenly.|“It doesn’t!” he screamed turning on him viciously. “There’s a big difference between not being sad someone’s dead and… and… and no! No! I wouldn’t be okay with seeing someone I hated die. I wouldn’t!”| “Yes, you would,” Remus said, standing up himself. He pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You would! And you know you would! Do you think you are the only one who can get a read on another side when functions cross? Those thoughts in your head are my domain and I knew exactly what you were feeling when I asked that question!” Virgil was forcibly summoned immediately, eyes wide. Patton and Remus have a philosophical discussion and then will have to deal with the fall out.

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5. You I’ll Come Back For: (Complete) They’d met in a jail cell, you see, but unlike now Patton had not been anywhere near trapped, not that Virgil had been aware of that fact. He’d just seen his sweet little cell mate who’d clearly not done anything to deserve being on that side of the bars. Virgil had said “What did you do to get stuck in this joint?” and Patton had started crying. It had taken zero lies and five hours for Patton to coax out the information he’d needed. He’d thought when he’d pranced up to the bars and told Roman he was ready to leave that the absolutely astonished expression which was quickly slipping into fury would be the last thing he’d ever see of the man whose crimes numbered enough to keep him in prison for the rest of his life. He’d escaped during his transfer to federal prison.

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6. The Horror of Stereotypes: (Complete) There had always been a certain stereotype about people like him for as long as anyone could remember. After the Heart War of 1963, those stereotypes had been legalized and places like this had been created to enforce the universal truth: everyone had a soulmate. One soulmate. No more and no less. At least they were supposed to. When Remus’s brother gets arrested because of his two soulmarks, Remus risks everything by infiltrating the facility he legally should be in as well due to his own two soulmates to save him. There he meets Logan and it turns out they have a lot in common: they both got hired this week, they both have two soulmates, and they’re both here for the same reason. Oh. And as it turns out, they’re each other’s soulmates too.

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7. Remains of Memories: (Complete) Patton is about to graduate high school. As his life changes, he figures it’s time to confront some memories with the people he loves.

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8. Tea, Cookies, and Handcuffs: (Complete) Logan finds a strange man on his property and of course invites him in for tea.

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9. A Mystery in a Mask (but Not Out of It): (Complete) Roman accidentally sleeps with a co-worker, but since his job is being a superhero and they all wear mask, he’s not sure which co-worker. Also Patton got kidnapped.

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10. Pumpkins, Corn, and Caffeine: (Complete) Remy steals Virgil to take him to a pumpkin patch. (A Labeled Universe Fic)

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11. Where Ghosts Live: (Complete) Logan meets three ghosts on the way to his destination. All of them have different things to say.

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12. The Death of Benji (Complete) A crime has been committed in the mindscape. Patton and Janus investigate. Virgil semi-reluctantly helps.

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[rwbyremnants]

NOTE: Working on more fics, I promise! For now I'm gonna try to not sleep on this one so much.

=Chapter 32

Fortunately, they only had to wait inside with Mrs. Nikos for about half an hour. She was quite accommodating and understanding, having heard from her husband how unreasonable Jacques had been when they confronted their daughters together - and hearing first-hand his shouting after them as they walked up the street scant minutes before. Most of the small town knew about the incident by now, and while a man might have sided with Jacques, few women would do the same. She had no problem providing Willow with tea and sympathy, and a handkerchief to bawl into.

The minute Pyrrha walked in the door, she knew something was wrong without even having to ask. But she did.

“What's wrong? What happened?”

Mrs. Nikos attempted to field the question herself, adjusting her spectacles. “The Schnees are having… a disagreement. Would you mind driving them to a motel or wherever they need to go, sweetie?”

“A disagreement?” Her friend swallowed hard. “Oh no… oh no, he got out.”

“What?”

“He did,” Mrs. Schnee answered for her, looking wearier by the moment. “And as much as I hate the idea of causing a scene, I can't put my daughter in danger. Not knowingly. If he could drug another poor girl once, send her after Weiss with a knife…”

Mrs. Nikos shook her head, red bob bouncing to and fro. Pyrrha definitely favored her father a bit more in terms of features and size, but the hair was unmistakable. “To think he could treat his own family that way! Absolutely disgraceful - and right here in Atlas Heights!”

“I know, Mom,” Pyrrha said calmly, even though Weiss could tell that she was extremely upset beneath the facade. “But he's hurt them more times in the past. I hate to see any family fall apart, but…”

“Mia zoí malákas!” She spat downward three times; Weiss and her mother were a little surprised, but Pyrrha merely nodded solemnly. “Not that I could believe that of my Nick, of course… but one can never be too careful.”

At their continued confusion, Pyrrha explained, “Old superstition - she's warding off the same evil happening to our family.”

“A-ah,” Willow stammered, not having been prepared for what a high society woman such as she would consider to be a display of extremely unladylike behavior. Weiss knew it probably wasn't unladylike in Mrs. Nikos' culture, of course, but her mother was even less worldly.

“Where will you go?" Pyrrha asked. "I mean… I'm sorry, I don't mean to ask too many questions, but…”

Mrs. Schnee waved that away. “It’s alright, dear. I think… well, maybe I'm presuming too much, but Kali once told me to come to her for anything I might need. And we were talking about my marriage, all the financials. So…”

“Oh! Oh, that's fine - I can definitely drive you there. What about your clothes and things? Do you want me to see if Mr. Schnee will let me in to collect-”

“NO!” When everyone else was surprised by Weiss’s outburst, she hurried to follow up with, “Pyrrha, this isn't your job. Besides, I'm worried he would take out his frustrations with us on you.”

Before she could protest, Pyrrha’s mother said, “Listen to her, kóri. Best to only go in there with more than one of you. It's safer. My God, I never thought I would have to say that about someone in this neighborhood…”

They bade Mrs. Nikos goodnight and piled into Pyrrha's car. The minute they had pulled away down the street, Weiss turned to look at the driver.

“Don't go to Kali's house.”

“What?” they both said.

“Not straight there. I don't want Father having you followed and leading him straight to us, or putting you in danger, like your mom said. You’ve already had to protect me once and that’s more than you ever should have.” She thought frantically. “Let's go to the Branwen's. Then Yang and her mother can take us to the Belladonna's. Just an… an extra, um…”

“A precaution,” her mother finished for her, nodding. She had to crane her neck to see her. “My smart daughter. It might not be necessary, but you're right; better safe than sorry.”

Pyrrha reached over and took up Weiss's hand, drawing her gaze as they came to a stop sign and paused there. “But I would gladly protect you again. I know you would do the same for me! But… oh, you're right. We shouldn't invite trouble when it can be avoided.”

So they did exactly as they planned. Weiss could see that her mother was growing more and more uncomfortable as they got deeper into the poorer part of town, but she was trying to pretend otherwise, maintaining light conversation about the weather and asking after Pyrrha's studies. The other two women were much better at small talk than Weiss was.

Her nerves spiked as they got closer to the Branwen house. Yang’s mother was decidedly no fan of hers, but she had been marginally more civil the last couple of times she visited, so maybe there was some hope.

“Both of you wait here,” she commanded them, reaching for the door handle. “This shouldn't take long. Either she'll help us, or she won't. Simple as that.”

“Be careful, sweetie,” her mother bade her as she slipped out of the car and walked up to the house.

Raven answered after the first knock. She rolled her eyes when she saw the young cheerleader on her doorstep, but made no other derisive comment or gesture - only stood back to let her into the house.

“Actually, we can't stay, Mrs. Branwen. I wondered if I could ask you or Yang for a favor?”

Her bottomless eyes narrowed further. “Like what? And who's ‘we’?”

“Well… it's a long story. The short version is, my father is out of jail and we'd like a ride to Kali's house because we don't want him to strangle us in our sleep.”

She had been expecting some kind of snarky comment, or at the very least a demand for further explanation. Instead, Raven nodded for a moment, then held up a finger before retreating into the house. Weiss was just beginning to worry that she had been ignored when the woman returned, jacket on and keys in hand. It wasn't the kind of coat the Dragons normally sported, but one of a red leather with black fur around the collar. Sunglasses were clipped to the breast pocket, almost as an afterthought.

“Mrs. Branwen? What- I mean, um, what about Yang?”

“This is a grown-up problem, girl. The grown-ups should handle it.” She headed straight for her rusty old car, barely pausing to call over her shoulder, “Whoever's coming had better hurry up. I ain't got all day.”

Pyrrha followed them back to Atlas Heights in her vehicle. Even though she privately thought her mother would be just as comfortable staying with her friend as riding with Raven, if not moreso, she came along, anyway. It was a fairly tense trip.

“He knocked you around?” she asked Willow without preamble.

“What? Oh… yes, I'm… I'm afraid so.”

“Both of you? And you just took it?”

“Raven!” Weiss hissed, unable to help herself. The glare of doom she saw in the rearview mirror made her rethink the action, but she stood her ground.

“Don't you sass me, girl. Grown women are talking.”

Before Weiss could reply, her mother held up a hand to signal that she could field the question herself. “It's fine. She's right; I should have done something about this situation long ago. But I… well, I convinced myself that keeping the peace within our family was more important than my own safety. I was wrong.”

“Damn right you were wrong. If my Taiyang had ever so much as tweaked my girl's nose wrong, I would have slit his throat. That goes for most mothers, I'd wager - and if I'm actually a better parent than you are, that's pretty sad.”

Again, Weiss wanted to argue with her, but this time she stopped herself. That was the most solid proof thus far that Raven wasn't quite the negligent parent that she seemed to be. Maybe this wasn't the time to shout her down. Though she certainly resolved to comfort her mother later, and assure her that she didn't think of her as a bad parent.

Not when they had her father to compare her to.

“Must we do this?” Willow asked in a shaking voice as they pulled into her own driveway. “Shouldn't we leave well enough alone for a while?”

Raven spared her a dark little smirk as she turned off the engine. “A highfalutin’ woman like you? Probably wouldn't last two days without her collection of lipsticks and pantyhose. No, we’d better do this now.”

The walk up to the front door seemed to last an eternity. Both Weiss and her mother were trembling, and she could feel her own palms were moist, stomach clenching in anticipation of another fight, or a shouting match… or worse.

It was Whitley who answered the door. He looked shocked enough to see his own family members, and yet more when he noticed the strange woman glaring down at him as if he had been spawned from a swamp.

“What-?”

“Excuse us.” Raven pushed her way past him without even waiting for him to finish a sentence. After only a second or two spent getting her bearings, she headed for the stairs. Weiss and her mother hurried to follow, the flustered boy tagging along at their heels.

“Your room?” When Weiss nodded, she stormed in and looked around. “Suitcase?”

“Up here, in the closet.” She went to get it herself, hoping that if she wasn’t completely useless she might earn some tiny shred of Raven’s respect. The woman started yanking open drawers, shoving her hands into piles of panties. “H-hey! Don’t touch those!”

Her lip curled as she tossed them unceremoniously into her bag. “Please. You have to be this tall to ride this roller coaster.” She held her hand out at the height that just happened to match that of her mother, and she snorted when she noticed. “Huh. Look at that.”

“Excuse me?” Willow breathed.

“Nothin'. Hurry up, Weiss.” Then she steered the older woman out of her room.

It took another few seconds for Weiss to snap out of her dazed state and begin to pack. They wouldn’t have much time; so far, they had been lucky that her father wasn’t around to interrupt their desperate grab for their personal effects. She focused on clothes first, then began to grab for school supplies, makeup, other things that could be easily picked up and moved. Lastly, she made sure to pluck from the bottom of her closet the single slipper that had lost its mate to her love, tucking it in the corner before she shut the case.

“Do you really think you two will get away with this?”

When she glanced up, it was to see her brother looking quite livid, fists clenched at his side. Sighing as she pulled the suitcase down from the bed to rest on the floor, she finally snapped, “Get away with what?”

“Abandoning Father when he needs us most!” he half-shouted, pasty little face livid. “You already got him thrown in prison, and he’s finally shown that he is willing to reason with you and Mother after all of this… and still you throw that back in his face?”

“Reason with- Whitley, he attacked us! There's nothing for us to feel sorry about - we had to protect ourselves!”

“Of course there is! If you hadn't been… well, you know! Hanging around those bad girls! Why would you keep doing that when you could simply do as Father says and… and ensure your future with the company, with this family? You're even crazier than I thought!”

Weiss had been prepared to hate Whitley for siding with their father. To lash out, to try and make him see reason. Instead, the most prominent emotion she felt… was pity.

“Oh, you poor little idiot.”

“I am not poor and I am not an idiot!” he snarled with a stomp of his foot.

“You are. You just don't know it yet.” As she began to haul the suitcase toward her doorway, she grunted, “You're still welcome to come with us instead of staying here with a dangerous lunatic. But I have a feeling you won't.”

Rolling his eyes, he folded his arms over his chest. “Don't be absurd.” When she kept going, he jogged a bit to catch up and asked, “Where will you be staying?”

“The Starlight Motel.” The lie felt disgusting in her mouth, but it was for their own safety. “Don't bother calling; we are staying under assumed names and asking not to be disturbed.”

“You would rather stay in a fleabag motel than with your own family?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she hissed, “That man is not my family anymore.”

Then she walked into the hallway. Hers and Yang's mothers had yet to return; that was no surprise. Her mother always took forever to pack. It was one of the many and varied topics she and her husband argued about, nearly every time they took a vacation. Before her mother had stopped arguing and started drinking, of course.

“Thinking about raiding our good silver?”

“Shut up, Whitley.”

“This isn't over, you know,” he sighed in a would-be causal voice. The trembling gave away that he was much more frustrated than that, of course. “Father will make you come back. Or at least return these things you're stealing.”

Taken aback, she snapped, “They're my things! My clothes and books! And do you really expect me to believe you think this is Father's pantyhose in my suitcase?”

“Yes. Oh - well, not in that way!” he burst out in annoyance. “I meant that he paid for all these things and you know that!”

Weiss was about to argue about that, take him down a peg, when the older women emerged from the master bedroom. Two bags were packed - Weiss now wished she had done the same, but she had been trying to pack light and take only the bare necessities. Her mother obviously didn't agree with the same definition of “necessities”.

“...quite a shock at first,” Willow was saying as they approached. Were they actually talking? Raven and her mother?! “But, well… I don't have much room to throw stones in my glass house.”

“I keep telling you, that's not what I care about.” But the instant she saw Weiss standing there, she buttoned her lip. “Hmm.”

“Yes?” Weiss gently prompted.

“Nothing. You ready?”

“I am. Is… everything alright?”

Raven spared her mother a glance. They looked a little more at ease around each other now, which she found as confusing as encouraging. “Think so. Let's go before Willow tries to pack a tea set or something.”

As they descended the stairs, Weiss goggling at Yang's mother calling hers by name, the woman in question whispered, “Oh… the tea set…”

They had just put the second bag into Raven's trunk when another car pulled into the driveway. They were blocked in. Even worse was the man getting out of said car.

“Ah,” he said, face aglow with a self-satisfied smirk that Weiss found infuriating. “Already crawling back with your tail between your legs, eh, Willow? I might have known it wouldn't take long.”

“Jacques,” she said in a dignified voice, which did nothing to hide her obvious fear.

“Wait…” His eyes finally took in the way Raven was stashing the last suitcase and slamming the trunk door closed. “Who is this? What are- did you come back to burgle me? Can you really be that pathetic?”

Raising a hand as if already warding off an attack, his wife backed up until the car pressed into her rear. “We came for what is rightfully ours. Please just… don't cause a fuss.”

“This is absurd!” Weiss almost wanted to laugh at him using the same word choice his son had scant minutes ago. “You really mean to do this! To abandon everything we've built together over some petty squabble! Where will you even stay? With this, this… bitter hag?”

Though Raven’s jaw tightened, she made no other move and offered no word. Weiss had a feeling that was a lot clearer sign of danger than if she had replied.

“At the Starlight Motel,” Weiss repeated loudly, cutting off whatever her mother had been about to say. “And don't bother asking for us; we're using assumed names and… and told them…”

Her voice faded as he turned the withering glare upon her. A few quick steps took him into her personal space, and she felt her flesh crawling in disgust for a man she had once trusted to provide for her, to protect and guide her into adulthood.

“This is all your doing,” he growled into her face, sounding more like a beast than a man. “Poisoning my own wife against me, dividing our home in two. You and those people you fraternize with now, skulking around and doing God knows what! And we both know what you're doing with that Chinese girl!”

She wasn't sure where the moment of boldness came from. Straightening up to her full height, despite it still being half a foot shorter than that of her father, she hissed as sharply as possible, “We do know that, Father. I'm in love with her and there's not a damn thing you can do about it!”

All the color drained from his face as he stared, open mouth, at his youngest daughter. If nothing else, at least she had accomplished shutting the man up for once.

“You…” He ground back to life like a toy having just been wound up again. One of his hands clamped hard on her bicep. “Disgusting… ungrateful… degenerate! Going against God’s laws - the laws of nature! We'll see about that! You're going up to your room, and you're going to stay there until I come up to teach you some-”

His words suddenly cut off. At first, Weiss thought he simply ran out of things to say in his frustration with her. Then he took a step back, and she saw a hand clamped on his shoulder at least as hard as the one on her own bicep.

“Careful, Papa Schnee,” Raven told him in a low, rattling voice. “Don't forget that you aren't alone in your house anymore. People are watching.”

His eyes raised, glancing wildly around the neighborhood. No one was looking out of their windows, or staring from the sidewalk. “Who is ‘people’? You? Please. Some barren old maid who looks like Evil Kineval? I'll thank you to stay out of things that are none of your concern.”

“Look again.”

Even Weiss had to do a double-take to notice what Raven was talking about. Two cars were parked on the other side of the street, their drivers staring intently at the Schnee household. Pyrrha and Kali - her personal knights in shining armor. Though Pyrrha looked a little bit more scared, Kali was filled with grim determination. Even as they stared, the latter's door opened and one of her high heels extended to rest on the pavement, ready to sprint toward the house at a moment's notice.

“You really think I'm scared of a bunch of women?” he scoffed, turning back to look at Weiss as if there had been no interruption. “I've seen the inside of a prison. Nothing you can do can compare with the atrocities I saw there.”

“Really?”

A loud click filled the air between them. When both Weiss and her father looked around, it was to see a prominent bulge in Raven's jacket pocket. Only a truly innocent lamb could mistake it for anything other than…

“A gun?!” she hissed at her. “Again?!”

“Why does everybody act so surprised that I have this and am ready to use it?”

Jacques flicked his beady eyes between the pocket and Raven's passively determined expression. He licked his lips, finally lowering his hand from Weiss's bicep to clench at his side. “It's a bluff. You're bluffing; I've never heard of a woman carrying around a pistol in all my life.”

“Keep threatening my daughter's girlfriend and you'll call my bluff,” she growled in a purely murderous tone, despite the cold smile on her lips. “Nobody gets to do that but me.”

Weiss wanted to sigh but decided she shouldn't.

“Jacques,” Willow set in a firmer tone than Weiss remembered hearing from her. “Please be reasonable. We just want to leave in one piece. Don't be stubborn and get someone hurt. Please?”

To drive home the point, Raven added, “I haven't even decided for sure that I won't shoot you if you do back off. Men like you make me sick. Really not smart to push me right now.”

“I'll have the police haul you in,” he growled angrily, his cheeks beginning to flush with redness due to the sheer levels of anger he was reaching. “You won't get away with threatening me! Do you have any idea who I am? How much power I have in this city?”

“Do you have any idea how little I care? Stop trying to impress me with the size of your piece and go away. I guarantee mine is bigger.”

Never before in her life had Weiss seen her father look so flustered and - to echo Raven's sentiments - impotent before. He glanced toward the front door, where Whitley was watching with an open mouth and an anxious expression, and again at the two women watching from their cars. By now, Kali had exited her vehicle and had one arm resting on the open door. Weiss cautiously retreated to stand next to her mother, silently reaching down to clasp her hand in solidarity. She felt the fingers flex and latch onto her own hard.

“Yes, I see, I see,” he muttered. “Battle of the sexes, is it? Well… we'll see about this. Yes, we will.” Glaring down at Weiss, he hissed in a venomous tone, “You have no idea how much worse I can make your life, ungrateful child.”

“Yes, we do. And we've had enough.” She pointed at the house with a shaking limb and said, “Go, Father. Just go.”

He went. Even though he looked like he had a million more things to shout at them, he seemed to realize that they no longer wanted to listen. His steps toward the front door were sure and swift - Whitley had to jump out of the way to avoid being mowed down in his determination.

Their mother hesitated for a moment, watching Whitley's worried expression. Then she took a step toward the house. “Come with us, son. I don't want to leave you in his care. I really don't! But I won’t force you.”

“Mother…” He sighed, lowering his eyes. Though he looked as if he regretted it, he turned and went back inside the house, pulling the door closed behind him. Weiss had a sneaking suspicion that at least some of what she had said to him sank in, but he wasn't ready to fully believe it yet.

“Glad that's over,” Raven snorted. There was a distant clicking in her pocket again; uncocking her pistol, most likely. “Some men have heads full of sawdust, I swear to-”

The rest of her sentence was cut off by Willow throwing her arms around her, squeezing with all of her might. Weiss took a step backward in shock. The next emotion that flared up in her was pure worry; Raven wasn't exactly a touchy-feely kind of person. How would she react?

“Oh, thank you so much!” Willow breathed urgently against her shoulder. “That was terrifying, and you were so… calm, and made him listen, and you… I've never seen such a strong woman before! Standing up to a man like him!”

The only thing that could have been more surprising would be if Raven embraced her back. Which was exactly what she did - only patting her in the middle of her back with one hand, but it was still more than Weiss expected. She looked mostly wide-eyed and confused. “No big deal.”

“But it is!” She drew back and kissed Raven on either cheek. Privately, Weiss knew that she was just being sociable in the same way she would have with the ladies at the Country Club, but was amused when she realized how it might come across to Raven instead. “How can I ever repay you?”

Sure enough, for just a moment, there was a slight bashfulness in Yang's mother's expression. The shy grin spoke volumes. “Honestly, don't mention it. Ever again.”

“Well, well, you two look cozy.” They had been so wrapped up in the various events that they didn't even hear Kali approach. Her own features were a curious mixture of bemusement and irritation.

“Kali!” Raven gasped - proving that she had completely forgotten she was even there. “This isn't- I mean, I only came to help them get their stuff from the creep in there. That's it, I promise.”

Smirking as she folded her arms over her chest, the Belladonna matriarch needled her, “Never could resist a blonde in distress, could you? But it's all right. You handled that really well and I'm proud of you.”

Her smile was obviously pleased, despite her response being, “Like I care if you're proud or not. But thanks for the backup.”

“Wait,” Willow asked, “you know each other?”

“Boy, does she know me,” Raven half-purred, and Kali rolled her eyes.

“I hate to interrupt this… whatever this is,” Pyrrha announced in a nervous voice, even though none of them had noticed her approach, either, “but I think we should go to Mrs. Belladonna's house before we continue this conversation. I don't like knowing he's in there, watching us like this.”

Their eyes turned as one to the house just in time to see one of the upstairs curtains be wrenched shut. Raven grunted under her breath, “Good idea. Don't want the cops to arrive and find me with this piece in my pocket.”

As they went to their separate cars, Willow asked her, “So you weren't kidding? That's really a gun in your pocket, not just a bluff? I didn't even know women could buy guns!”

“Of course we can. Not that I bought it through strictly legal channels…” She started the car and glanced at the two platinum-haired women in her passenger seats. “You did good. Maybe… I was wrong about you, Little Schnee.”

That was about the most glowing praise Weiss could ever hope to receive from Raven, and she couldn't help the huge grin that broke out across her face. It made the older woman grimace and turn back around.

“How are we going to get out?” Willow asked. “Jacques boxed us in.”

“Did he?”

The next several seconds were like something out of a movie. Raven threw her car into gear, nearly plowed into the fence, then cut the steering wheel hard so she would reverse into the front yard around her father's car. Deep gouges were left into the grass and earth that would take a groundskeeper many hours to fix. As if an intentional finishing touch, she backed over the mailbox before winding up on the road again, shifting into drive and taking off at top speed.

That was fine with Weiss. She hated being boxed in.

“Oh, our mailbox…” After a brief second, Willow turned to nervously say, “But it's fine! I… we can buy another!”

“Who is ‘we’? Thought you were done living with that walking pile of dog shit.”

Simple as that statement was, it shattered the excitement for the two Schnee women and left them with nothing but melancholy and regrets. A chapter in their life had ended forever, leaving only an uncertain future looming on the horizon through the cracked windshield of Raven Branwen’s old rusty Dodge.

[therainbowwillow]

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/641225373410000896/therainbowwillow

Part 16! Well, this fic is getting so damn long! I have another (dare I say more important) project I’m *supposed* to be writing. This fic was meant to be a warm-up... anyway. Here is part 16!

Premise/last time: With their trial fast approaching, everyone arrives at the gates of Olympus. Hermes again receives the same foreboding prophecy, but they’ve come too far to turn back now.

The golden gates of Olympus span before them, in beautiful contrast to the city’s mostly marble architecture. Athena opens the doors, standing guard as they enter. “Welcome home,” she greets the returning Olympians.

“Are we safe?” Hermes questions her.

“You’re safer than you could be,” she says. “Hades insisted upon immediately locking you up, but we negotiated against chains. I am supposed to disarm you, however.”

“We only have Hades’s knife, as far as I know,” Hermes explains.

“I’ll take it.” He hands the knife to her. It’s stained with blood, unwashed since... Hermes doesn’t want to think about it. “Smart, preserving the evidence,” she tells him, turning it over in her hands. He accepts the compliment, although his intention hadn’t been to incriminate Hades.

“Apollo!”

He looks up as Artemis flies down the path and leaps into his arms. “Artemis! Ouch, wait. I took an arrow to the ankle, remember.”

“Sorry!” She holds him up for support. Hyacinthus takes his other side. “It’s been a while, Apollo.”

He chuckles. “And whose fault is that?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry! I know I should’ve been there for you. It wasn’t you I was trying to avoid. Still, I should’ve said something.”

He tilts his head. “Who then?”

“Take a guess. Zeus and Hades blamed me for the Asclepius situation, because it was my hunter he resurrected. Our relatives are easier to avoid than to confront, so I ran. I see your lover didn’t stay down too long,” she remarks.

“I don’t know. I’d call seventeen- no, eighteen- years a long time,” Hyacinthus says.

She shrugs. “Shorter than most people stay dead for. Anyway, our prospects look fine. Zeus and Hades remain their ever-stubborn selves. Still, the whole world heard that song. Callisto and I were as far from the railroad as one could get and we heard it. That son of yours, he has the whole planet on his side.”

“You’re still with Callisto?” Apollo says with a smirk.

Her cheeks flush. “I suppose. She’s a wonderful hunting partner.”

“You don’t need the ‘hunting’ bit of that sentence.”

“And you wonder why I never visit,” she mutters.

“Aw, come on, Art. I’m only teasing. Please do come by more often.”

“I come by plenty when you aren’t moping and our father isn’t attempting to bring his wrath upon me. Shouldn’t we be discussing the trial?”

“Right.”

“I’ve been keeping my eye on Zeus,” she says, as they walk through the gates. “I posed a case for Hyacinthus, too. Our father seemed open to the idea of letting him live if it means you’ll get back to your duties.” 

Apollo grins. “Still, it’ll take some argument,” Artemis continues. “I overheard that Hermes will be the target of the trial, not Orpheus. I didn’t catch why they changed their plans, but I thought I’d warn you. Ares, Zeus, and Poseidon took Hades’s side. The rest of Olympus is loyal to Orpheus, to varying degrees, and for different reasons. Regardless, it’s support!”

“A little good news for once,” Hermes remarks.

“Yes. I’m sorry about your circumstances, though.”

“Better me than Orpheus. When does the trial start?” He asks.

“Soon,” Athena answers. “Let’s arrive before our opposition.” She guides them down the street, ethereal and white as the rest of the city. 

Orpheus notices the flowers, gardens pressed against every house and street corner, all in full bloom. It seems even Olympus feels his springtime. He absentmindedly plucks out a few notes on his lyre. The flower heads turn to face him. 

Eventually, they reach the center of the city. A marble building rises higher than the rest. Its domed roof has blue accents. The entrance is lined with sets of ornate pillars. 

“Here we are,” Athena says, “Get comfortable. Confidence will be an asset to our case.” 

Hestia welcomes them inside. “You must be Orpheus! The poet I’ve heard so much about.” Her smile is genuine and it lights up the entire room as Eurydice wheels him inside. 

“I am!” Orpheus says. “The gods know me!” He whispers to Eurydice.

“I am sorry for the circumstances of our meeting, Orpheus. My name is Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home. Are you comfortable as you are or would you like a chair?” 

“This is fine! Thank you.”

“Of course! You will all be provided food and drink throughout the trial,” she tells them. “And Hermes, Hades has express interest in shackling you to your chair. I am not sure what he expects you to do, but I wanted to warn you regardless.”

Hermes nods, soundlessly. 

Eurydice sits beside Orpheus. “You okay?” she asks, gently.

“Yes. I’m just... preparing myself to see Hades.” He lowers his voice. “It’s Hermes I’m really worried about. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“He’ll be alright,” she assures him, uneasily. 

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

Hermes sits on the far edge of the semicircle of seats, keeping Orpheus in his  line of sight. He’d picked out Hades’s chair, draped with a new grey coat and placed himself directly across from it. He’d keep a close eye on the king of the dead, he’d decided, for Orpheus’s sake. 

He sits in silence, separated from the rest of his side of the case. Three figures enter the room. The two men closely resemble each other. Thanatos and Hypnos, he realizes, with surprise. Orpheus looks at the ground, afraid to meet the god of death’s eyes.

“We are allies,” Thanatos announces, “To Orpheus.” The god takes a seat beside Hestia, adjacent to the rest of the room. Orpheus beams in disbelief.

Other deities trickle into the courtroom. Ares takes the first seat on the other side of the room. Aphrodite and her son, Eros, take Orpheus’s side. Demeter pulls Persephone into her arms in a long hug and takes a seat beside her daughter. The air seems to warm at their touch. The Anemoi, the four winds, side with Hades, probably due to Hyacinthus’s presence, Hermes notes. Poseidon and Zeus arrive together, taking their seats beside Ares. 

Hades is last to arrive. The air prickles in his presence. Persephone turns up her lip. Orpheus squeezes Eurydice’s hand. Hermes forces himself to keep his gaze fixed on Hades as he strides to his seat. He scans his ex-employer for weapons, anything he could use against Orpheus. He finds nothing and his head aches too badly to keep searching. Hades sits and glares, his eyes trained upon Hermes. He moves his head slightly. Hermes’s vision fades to black. 

He sees nothing, only hears the notes flooding over him and he feels the chains, boring into his wrists. Orpheus’s voice, so clear and effortless. He stops singing. A chair creaks. “No! No!” Orpheus screams. Blood. A stronger scent than ever before. Eurydice gasps. His vision returns. Drops of golden ichor bead on the marble floor beneath his feet. 

Hestia sits at his side. “Hermes?” She hands him a handkerchief. “Your nose is bleeding. Pinch, lean back a little. Are you alright?” He nods. “Would you like something to drink? You passed out.” He shakes his head. His eyelids feel heavy. “Okay, I want you to drink something anyway.”

She hands him a glass of nectar and he takes a sip. “Would you like to lie down for a moment?” 

He hears heavy footsteps approaching. Hades. “I told you, chain him up,” he growls.

“Hades, he’s clearly quite ill.” She places a hand against his forehead. “He’s running a fever. Perhaps we should delay-”

“No,” Hermes mutters. “I’m alright.” 

Hades presses shackles around his wrists. He can’t find the strength to fight back. “The trial proceeds.” Hades returns to his seat. 

Athena rises. “We proceed, then,” she says, uneasily. “The prosecution may give its opening statements.” 

Hades dips his head. “We open, Olympus, to traitors, with more support than those who abide by the law. To the lesser crimes of the foolish Orpheus, willing to unwind the binds of death for his selfish desire for the girl he forgot.” Hermes sees Orpheus draw in a small breath. Eurydice whispers something to him. 

“And the true cause for our gathering,” Hades continues, “Hermes. Impressive, I must admit, just how much of his contract he managed to break. Willing to betray his own family for the good of a mortal boy and his worthless lover.” Eurydice’s expression hardens, burning with anger. She sips from the glass beside her, hiding her fury. “Pathetic and foolish is his love of mortals. Even now, he betrays us, refusing to provide evidence before the court, simply because it incriminates a red-blooded boy. He hides from us the contract of Eurydice, a shade of Hadestown, returned to life by his maddened endeavors.” 

“How, Olympus, do you side with these cowards? Do the laws of our land mean nothing to you? Your very sustenance relies on the preservation of death. Without it, your precious world would be overrun by long-dead shades, many of them criminals. Murderers, thieves, vain enough to proclaim themselves above you. Today, let us prevent the fall of your civilized world. Let us uphold the borders that protect us and punish those who dare to tear them down.” He lowers himself methodically back into his seat.

Athena stands once more. “And the defense’s response. Lord Hades, the reason for Orpheus’s support is this: Olympus does not find your actions redeemable. This mortal boy walked into your realm on his own two legs. He sang a song, so beautiful, the world wept for his love. He reminded you, he reminded all of us what it means to lead. That strength is not found in cruelty and fear, but in love and respect. He stood before the King of the Dead and he sang. If that is cowardice, there is no bravery.”

Orpheus smiles. She continues, “You allowed him safe passage home, so long as he did not break your terms. He was not to sing until he reached the surface. Although his memory faded with the fog of the River Lethe, he did not break his contract. Still, you sent shades to hunt him down and blackmailed Thanatos into bringing you his soul. You tortured Orpheus, deprived an already injured and starved young man of food and drink and forced him to sing at your will until he could not force out another note. Once you discovered he was no longer of use, you stuck a knife through his stomach and left him to die, alone in the dark.” Hermes notices Orpheus’s misery at remembering his days in Hades’s prison. Orpheus sips his drink to distract himself.

“We are inclined to side with the truth and that Orpheus is a traitor is a lie. Broken contracts hold nothing to the crimes of Hades. The law exists to govern our morality. When the law is wrong, it is our job to uphold justice. Not in the name of the papers we signed, but in the name of what is just. Let us do today what is just: acquit the defendants and honor them for their gifts of springtime. Now, albeit unconventionally, I ask for a song.” 

Orpheus strums his lyre and sings his first notes. His song washes the room with an incredible warmth. A murmur goes about the crowd as flowers begin to bloom in the vast hall, wrapping chair legs in vines, springing from the ground. His shoulders drop, his fear fades as he sings. His song recites love. Not just his own. Not only Hades’s. 

Apollo is struck all over again by the first time he’d seen Hyacinthus, his beautiful Spartan prince, outlined against the sunrise. Achilles remembers Patroclus, racing him through Peleus’s halls. Artemis sees Callisto, her eyes glinting in the moonlight as they hunt, side by side. Even Hera feels the old flutter in her chest, some tiny spark of love for her husband, love she’d long since extinguished. Persephone feels the change of her husband’s heart. How he sees her, how he knows what must be done. 

Not a single note is out of place, not a single line is forgotten. Orpheus’s song is a song of love and warmth. A song of hope for what might be. What is now, so long as he keeps singing. And this time, his voice doesn’t fail him. He does not falter. He only sings and sings, until every flower on Olympus and on the ground faces him. Until his voice reaches Hadestown and echoes off the distant walls and the workers join the chorus, singing with a new vigor. His springtime is not the springtime of legends. It is more. It is hope for a new world, freedom from the past. And he keeps singing.

[justhereforseverus]

A Rose by any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet

Miserable_toad

Chapter 14: I would not wish any companion in the world but you

Summary:

It's the day of the Yule Ball but you had a rather unpleasant night. Full of anxiety, hopes and uncertainties you follow Severus to the dancefloor.

Notes:

Lyrics by Taylor Swift from the song “This is me trying.” I’m obsessed with her latest album ‘Cardigan’ so I’m not sorry at all to include the lyrics here. This fic won’t be over anytime soon. Still much to work through with these two. I have to admit, I wasn’t very satisfied with chapter 13. Sometimes I tend to pack way too much of my own insecurities/anxiety and stuff in there, which might ruin the story for anyone outside. I apologise for that.

Listen to the song here to set the mood during the dance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bdLTPNrlEg

Thank you all for your kudos and comments!! They really make my day every single time! Thank you so much for reading!

Chapter Text:

There were no classes on a Saturday, and we’ve all been busy with our own preparations for the ball. I woke up nervous, scared and numb. I had a nightmare in which I was back in London in our old backstage area. He was there, threatening us, yelling at us, making our life hell. As a consequence, a heavy cloud hung over me. I was looking forward for this evening for weeks and now anxiety reigned my heart. In addition, I’ve found another note in my pidgeon hole with the familiar red lettering of ‘whore’. I tried to calm down with tea and did some reading in my studies, thinking to myself: “Please don’t ruin this evening. Everything is going to be fine.”

Severus had send me an owl to let me know he’d pick me up at 6. Punctual as ever, he arrived at point 6 on my doorstep. He was wearing a finer version of his usual buttoned-up jacket made of soft cord fabric. His jacket was embellished with green and golden tendrils growing all over it. He wore a finer white silk shirt underneath and his longer signature sleeves were decorated with sparkling silver buttons. All this was matched with his usual black trousers. His hair elegantly framed his face and looked fluffy and soft. A white handkerchief with a lily printed on it was put in his breast pocket. He looked at me for a moment with eyes wide open, then bowed down and kissed my hand. “My lady, you look wonderful tonight.” I chuckled and thanked him for the complimemt. He looked very handsome tonight, too. On the way to the ball, my anxiety still overcame me and I couldn’t stop shaking. He put me aside in an empty hallway to ask me how I was. I just told him I had a rough night with some nightmares and was incredibly nervous. But that I was also looking forward to the evening. He looked at me worried and then said: “It’s fine. I have to admit.. I’m nervous, too. This is the first time I’m having someone next to me. But..” and here he took up my hand and squeezed it: “It’ll be fine. I don’t care about them or their words. I just want to be here with you and we can go whenever you like.” I nodded and smiled.

Usually teachers who are not head of houses do not stand in the first row when the opening dance is undergoing. Unless of course they are the chosen dance partners. Thus, I stood in the front with Severus as I was his official +1 (though I was invited individually as every staff member). Next to us stood Dumbledore who held hands with McGonagall, Flitwick who, as I was told, usually chose his wife but she was unable to make it this time, so he went with his friend Madame Pomfrey instead. Sprout had brought her tall red-haired girlfriend named Chloe. While we watched the head boys and girls dance, I could feel the eyes on me and Severus. He held my hand tightly but looked as aloof, desinterested and confident as always. I looked around and caught Remus sitting on one of the tables behind me smiling and winking at me. Sirius sat next to him in a dashing red velvet suit. He had put his hand on Remus shoulder and the other in front of his mouth, clearly hiding his laughter. I jokingly rolled my eyes when I saw him and waved.

After the head prefects had their chance to dance alone, the headteachers would be next to join. Remus told me that Severus had never joined in the dancing before and usually left quite early. This time it was different. He led me to the dancefloor and I almost tripped over my own feet because I was so nervous. But he was a marvellous dancer. Despite Remus’s training in the days before the ball, I was dead focused on not making any missteps. Severus though led brilliantly and thus it turned out ok. I think at least. He looked so satisfied and I forgot everything and everyone else in the room including my own anxiety for a while.

After the opening dance was over and the music changed into something faster and more casual, we returned to the tables reserved for the staff. Remus and Sirius came over our way. Remus was the first to talk: “Hello Severus, I didn’t know you could dance so well. That was a great performance. I could learn a thing or two from you.” Severus replied rather dismissively but polite: “Thank you, Professor Lupin.” And then… said nothing else. Silence. You could feel the tension in the air. To break the ice a bit, I said: “I hope I’ll see you two on the dancefloor soon. How are you, Sirius?” Sirius replied, after giving me a hand kiss while looking rather cheekily at Severus: “Oh, my lady, I’m doing very well tonight. And just you wait. Me and Remus have plans to dance all night and it will certainly be a show worth watching.” - he winked. He then turned towards Severus with the utmost politeness and a sarcastic little bow: “Hello to you, too Professor Snape! We haven’t seen each other for a long time. I’m glad to see you are well.” Despite these relatively harmless words you could tell he was enjoying this in a way he shouldn’t. Severus looked unimpressed with an elevated eyebrow on Sirius. He replied rather cold with a slight hint of sarcasm: “Hello Mr Black. Yes, I am. What a surprise to see you’re honouring Hogwarts with your presence once again.” “Well Sni.. “ and here Remus punched his elbow into Sirius side. “Professor Snape, someone has to take care of Remus as long as his girlfriend is gone. He isn’t exactly my type, but I volunteered to keep this scruffy professor safe.” And here he patted demonstratively Remus’s shoulder. Remus looked back at him with a very puzzling expression but then took him by the hand and said “We probably should get to the dancefloor now. Come on, Sirius.” Both waved at us and then moved towards the dancefloor.

I turned to Severus: “Well that was.. something. Sirius really tried. Why do you hate each other so much again? Remus just told me that Sirius was quite the troublemaker and you both didn’t get along at all back in school.”

Severus mouth frowned before he dismissively replied: “Long story not worth telling. But yes, I agree he was a troublemaker, always willing to put others down that he didn’t like. James Potter and he were a horrible combination that endangered the life of others. I see he hasn’t changed much, though he apparently can be polite now if he needs to… with a little help. But to change the topic: Who is Remus girlfriend?”

“ It’s Nymphadora Tonks. Do you know her?”

He nodded: “Yes, briefly. Smart girl but always seemed to be with her head somehwere else and very clumsy. Remus was always the most responsible one of the infamous Golden Trio. Guess, she is a good fit. In the end, we all got older. She might have changed.”

“She is really nice. They’re a wonderful couple.”

Severus looked absentmindedly around: “Indeed. Would you like something to drink?”. We both got some wine from the bar and sat at one of the tables in the back. It was quite empty. Most staff were either on the dancefloor or standing around it to watch the others. The bar was also rather crowded. Severus put his arm around me, and we were watching the dancing crowd. I felt a bit better now that the official dance was over. Some people continued to stare at us and then whispered in hushed tones. It made me feel uneasy but at the same time kinda proud. Though, I wanted to finally clear something up no matter how much I dreaded the question. I asked with a shaking voice: “Severus. Are we.. are we a couple?”

He looked at me like I’ve just declared that I was a lizard and the earth was flat: “What kind of question is this?” - he blured out. “I assumed that would’ve been the case for a while. I’m surprised you still saw this as an open question.”

Ouch…..damn me. “I mean, yes? I don’t know... You were so open in London but here. Obviously, we shouldn’t be all lovey dovey in front of everyone all the time but I thought you wanted to keep it a secret here. Either because you weren’t sure or because you were ashamed or something. Of course, now that we danced together and we’re here as a couple for everyone to see it’s more clear but.." I sighed..."Ok, I don’t know why I thought.. ugh.”

He drew in a long breath before saying: “You’re right but I wanted to wait until you act on your accounts. I don’t have problems showing affections here. But you seemed hesitant about it and maybe you’re not the type for that stuff. Yet, I’ve always seen us as a couple. I didn’t think we had to officially declare it somehow.”

“I’m sorry.. you know how I am.”

“Yes, I know. And that’s fine. Even though it doesn’t have to be said out loud, I say it now: I want to be in a serious relationship with you right now.”

I could feel how my cheeks turned pink and said in a hushed voice: “I do, too.” And then he leaned towards me and kissed me in front of everyone to see. I could hear more murmurs around us. But I didn’t care, and I think Severus did neither.

Remus and Sirius indeed put on quite a show on. Sirius was an absolute show off and danced like a professional pop background dancer at times but Remus was not far behind. It was clear that Sirius had learned how to dance to impress whoever he wanted at that moment. I could see how that works out though his occasional awkward breakdance moves are a bit too much at times. The rest of the staff were equally impressive. Dumbledore danced like a 13 year old in a tik tok video and the students loved it. I’ve never seen a 130 year old dancing that passionately while staying cool with the kids. I also joined them on the dancefloor at times and once sang loudly along Queen’s Bohemian Rapsody with Minerva, Sprout and Chloe. It was a lot of fun. At one point, the students of my drama group invited me to their little circle to sing along some songs. Severus stayed behind for most of the evening though he did talk with Flitwick and Albus. Every time I looked towards him, he smiled though. When I returned to him, he said:“It’s a marvel to see you dance.”

I blushed but then replied: “Why don’t you try it then sometimes? I’m sure you’d have fun.”

He cackled: “I don’t think anyone wants to see me on the dancefloor being silly. I’m not the type. Bats don’t dance after all.”

A slow song came on and the dancefloor organised itself in couples intimately intertwined. Suddenly, Severus stood up and offered me his arm: “But I think, I could make an exception with this song.”

I was beaming and we went to the dancefloor. The song felt like soft snow falling and the lyrics wrapped us in like a warm blanket:

“I've been having a hard time adjusting. I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. Pulled the car off the road to the lookout. Could've followed my fears all the way down.”

Many thoughts ran through my head. I often was incapable of focusing on the moment. I still had to prove myself and my position at Hogwarts. The thing was the play. Would anyone notice if I had to go? Did I change anything in the few months I was here? And why do I still feel haunted and chased by all these old prejudices. I felt so battered and wounded.

“And maybe I don’t quite know what to say. But I’m here in your doorway.”

I never thought I’d find someone like Severus here. That I’d tried to love again at all. But there was still so much that lingered in my heart and mind. My life is far from perfect. I had to fix my sleeping schedule, to fix my fears and insecurities, to battle whatever is happening here. Why does he like me when he usually demands perfection from anyone around him? I still couldn’t explain that. But I knew I’d try my best to keep him, to make him happy, to hold him. My thoughts returned to his gaze. I was dancing with the most beautiful man at this school. My head on his shoulder, his hand on my waist, his breath in my ear. Still, I was scared, and I didn’t know why.

“They told me all of my cages were mental. So I got wasted like all my potential. And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad. I have a lot of regrets about that.”

I thought about why I left London. Why, my life went like it did. There was so much he didn’t know about what happened to me, about what I did to others. About who I had been. But was this really important? On the other hand, he admitted he hadn’t told me much about his past either. Will this all last? He was like an enigma wrapped up in a riddle but at the same time… I felt like we were bound with an invisible string.

“I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere. Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here, pouring out my heart to a stranger But I didn't pour the whiskey.”

Once everything looked different. I was so full of passion, dreams and hopes. But they had been crushed up to the moment that I came here, defeated but hopeful to escape everything. Yet, I was wrong in thinking that nothing would happen. I remembered the first time I broke down and how Severus sat next to me. The first time he was truly kind despite my childishness, my broken memories. The first time, I saw my scares clearly and recognised his presence as my medicine.

“And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound. It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town”

The nightmare last night had hit me hard, made me remember things I’d rather forget. Yet, I’ve never been happier than in this moment. I looked at Severus, gazed into his black eyes and wanted to lose myself in him, to never think again. To drown in his eyes forever. His face was full of kindness and love. He was exactly how I always imagined love could and should be when I was a teenager dreaming. This realisation scared me at the same time. In that moment, he moved closer and kissed me in the middle of the dancefloor under the dim purple lights with the mirrorball above us. I melted in his embrace. He tasted like wine and daylight and a warming fire.

“I just wanted you to know that this is me trying”

And that’s all I wanted and all I’d ever do. Trying to make this work. Trying to create something from the broken shards of my life. I wanted to melt them down and start anew with you.

When the song ended, we went outside the hall. His hand in mine, he was beaming and even with his usual aloofness and control he couldn’t hide the fact that he was happy. And I was happy to see him that way. Though I couldn’t quite believe I was the reason behind it. To hold such a treasure and call it mine feels unreal. We stood on the balcony for a moment, looking at the Hogwarts grounds from above. His arm was wrapped around my shoulder and he seemed to hum along to the song we heard from inside.

I looked at him and said: “Never seen you this chippy before. I could get used to it.”

“Mhh..” he replied. “Yes, I can’t imagine why. Must be the wine. Or..”

And here he put his hand on my chin, closed the distance between us and said with a cheeky smile: “A certain nymph has enchanted me.”

I laughed: “Didn’t know anyone could do that to the famous master of potions and the dark arts.”

“Well, IT IS certainly possible but only when I want it to.”

“Then I feel honoured.” - I exclaimed and followed him back inside as it got quite cold.

Most of the staff had retreated to their sleeping quarters by now as it was very late. Even Sirius and Remus sat happy but exhausted on a couch deep in conversation about something. Small groups of students were on the dancefloor talking, dancing or just watching the DJ doing his thing.

Severus suggested the following: “What do you think about retreating to my quarters? I think we have served an appropriate time of duty at this party.” I agreed. I also felt the tiredness in my bones and  I longed to be alone with him.

[thosequeenboys]

Slippery When Wet (Roger Taylor x Brian May)

Summary: Approaching the end of their American tour, Roger and Brian find some welcome – and rare -- intimate time alone. Roger urges Brian to demonstrate his Instagram shower safety tips.

A/N: This story was inspired by Brian’s August Instagram post about shower safety.   Though focused on current Maylor, there is a flashback to their earlier years. It is being published for the “Maylor Week 2019 Making Love” prompt.  Bolded text is referenced at the end.

Warnings:  SMUT (18+ only). Shower sex, anyone? 

Roger and Brian mingle with staff and visitors backstage after the show, feeling the end of the tour nearing, with only two more shows to go on their American tour.   They nurse increasingly warm drinks, as they tell jokes and express gratitude. Suddenly, they their eyes lock in a knowing glance acknowledging to each other their eagerness to leave.  The high from the show had started to fade, and suddenly, they are done.  They no longer have the need to down countless drinks, make witty conversation and stay up all night.

“Adam, we’re going to head out, mate.” Roger says.

Oh, sure, I’ll see you tomorrow,”  Adam says as he hugs Roger and then Brian. The men yell a thank you and give a wave, receiving a round of applause as they leave.  The adulation still feels good even after all these years.

“Want to come in for a nightcap.” Brian asks once they settle into their waiting car.

“So long as it’s a cold one-absolutely!” Roger says, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his brow of the oppressive American humidity.  They enter Brian’s suite and Brian goes to the frig.  “Beer?”  

“Sure,” Roger says, throwing his green velvet blazer on the club chair.  They both sit heavily on the couch, and each lean into the soft pillows positioned against the arm rests at the opposite ends of the couch.

Brian looks up at Roger.  It has been months since they sat together  -  alone. Sarina was on the tour for a bit and left a week before for London; Anita is starring in a show on the West End.

“It feels good to sit and relax.”  Brian says. “With you,” he adds with a warm smile.

“Yeah, we haven’t been together--er, hung out in a while.” Roger corrects himself quickly in his raspy voice as he sips his beer.  He lets himself bask in the special solace of being alone with Brian May: the warmth, comfort, familiarity.  Then, of course, there is the backdrop of desire.

It has been awhile, hasn’t it?”  Brian says, glancing at Roger as he sinks back into the couch. Suddenly, Brian takes his phone from his jacket pocket.  “Oh, my, look at this.  My Instagram post from earlier today has over 10,000 likes-in just a few hours!!”

“Ooh, impressive!” Roger’s voice rises, feigning excitement.  “And what topic is Dr. May expounding on today-the cosmos? hedgeho…?”

Brian cuts him off.  “No actually, it was a post about shower safety in hotels.  There have been many instances of people getting injured slipping in hotel showers. Laying down a towel is the perfect solution.”  He interrupts himself.  “Listen to this!  Brian-Mayday wrote “I’m so glad you posted this, Brian!  I travel for work and will follow your wise advice-and avoid injury. Smile emoji.”  

“Keeping everyone safe, while entertaining and educating the world.  That’s our Brian.”  Roger states, while thinking to himself, shower safety, WTF?.  

Roger eyes Brian whose head is bent over as he scrolls through his phone reading comments, some aloud, clearly tickled.   He takes in Brian’s grey locks cascading down his shoulders and his open shirt, revealing his smooth, still-firm chest.  Roger blinks and a sly smirk spreads on his face as an image pops into his view -- it was another time, another Brian: dark curls also drape into his open shirt. He was folded into himself on the couch, hunched over a paper he was writing due at week’s end, grasping a pencil.  They were positioned as they were this evening-leaning into the opposite arm rests of the couch, their legs tangled in the middle of the cushions.  

“This isn’t right!” Brian said, agitatedly pulling his legs up under him and resting his notebook on them. He stared at it.  

“Read it aloud,” Roger urged and Brian read the essay slowly.

“I think you need to switch up the sentences in the first two paragraphs to better support your thesis sentence.” Roger suggested. “Here-let me see.” Brian passed him the notebook and Roger and Brian talked through the paragraphs, batting around ideas, as they leaned toward each other to look at the notebook.

“Ah, I think this will work.” Brian said nodding, his mouth forming a slight smile, relieved by the clarity.

“Yup.  Just needed some reorganizing.  Your supporting evidence is solid.” Roger said confidently handing the notebook back to Brian, who took it. Leaning back into his end of the couch, he scribbled some notes based on their discussion.

“I have a question for you,” Roger asked pensively from the other end of the couch, cocking his head.  Brian looked up and leaned forward, his brow furrowed, eager to hear the question to further spark his thinking on his paper.  

“What do I have to do to get laid around here?” Roger asked, trying and failing to hide a grin.

Brian raised an eyebrow and his mouth curled into an O, expressing surprise. “Here I was thinking you were going to come up with a brilliant idea about my paper….”

“Did that.  Now I’m ready to put other parts of myself to use.  I have a head for science AND a bod for sin.��� (1) Roger said in a husky voice, turning on the charm, flashing his lovely smile, his baby blues sparkling underneath long, batting eyelashes.

“Do you, now?” Brian asked, grinning at Roger, turned on by his boldness. “Well, in answer to your question--That depends if you’re a good boy…” Brian purred, trying to be flirtatious.  

“I’ve been very good…I just helped you…”  Roger said softly.

“That you did,” Brian said.  Suddenly overcome with lust, he threw the notebook and pencil on the floor and launched his body forward, crawling on all fours across the couch. He settled between Roger’s legs that were opened to receive him.  

Looking into Roger’s beautiful eyes, he ran his fingers through his soft hair. He started to kiss Roger’s lips hungrily.  Roger returned the kisses firmly, staring deeply into Brian’s eyes, signaling he was ready for more.  Brian’s tongue licked Roger’s lips and he parted them, allowing Brian’s tongue to probe him. Roger gasped as his tongue explored Brian.  After a few moments, Brian pulled away and started his descent, kissing and sucking down Roger’s neck, unbuttoning his shirt as he moved down his bare, smooth chest.  He stopped to take off the shirt and then ran his hand up and down Roger’s chest sternum to belly button.  He bent and sucked a nipple and licked his calloused fingers, gently tugging at the other.  “Oh, God,” Roger said, thrusting up, as Brian continued to focus on his chest, his long graceful fingers grazing over his fair torso.  

“You’re so sensitive.  I could stay here just at your chest, watching you writhe and listening to you moan under me. You’re so beautiful.” Brian uttered. After generating more moans from Roger and feeling his heartbeat quicken, Brian kissed down his taut abs, speaking in between each kiss.  “Roger. Taylor. I love you.  Your talent.  Your passion for music.  Your cheekiness. Your smarts. Your warmth. Your caring. Your bod!”  He giggled.  “Did I mention your intelligence? You are the real deal….”

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” (2) Roger said with a laugh, deflecting Brian’s serious sentiments.

Brian pulled off his chest and looked at Roger intensely, concerned.  “No, Roger. I don’t.  You’re the only one I love.  And, I want to show you how much I love you.”

Brian sat up slightly and unbuttoned and unzipped Roger’s pants and slid his fingers under the waistband, caressing his hipbones, ever so gently.  

Roger panted. “I…I love you too, but God, bloody take them off…”

****

“Ohmygoodness!”  Brian’s giddy enthusiasm brings Roger back to the present as the image of their youthful student life and lovemaking vanishes.  

“These comments are incredible!  People really appreciate my message and photos! Look at this shot,” Brian turns his phone and shows Roger a photo of his bare leg stepping into the shower placing his foot on the towel.  

“Oh, I must respond to this to this comment.”  

“Seriously?? You’re going to respond to comments all night?”  Roger is SO over freaking Instagram and is clearly losing his patience.  They finally have time together, and…

“So, I have a question, Brian…” Roger says earnestly.

“Hmmmm?” Brian asks half listening, clearly distracted as he types a comment. 

“What do I have to do to get laid around here?”  Roger’s eyes bored into him as he smirks.

Brian looks up.  “You want to…??”  They each have an agreement with their wives-and always had.  They have an occasional thing.  It goes way back and is the reflection of their emotional, intellectual, musical and physical connection-and their history.   It doesn’t detract from the strong love they have for their wives. It is a different connection and bond. Their wives accept the arrangement.   It’s been almost a year since they had been together.

“Actually, BrianMayForReal,” Roger snickers, using Brian’s Instagram name, “I was thinking I’d like you to show me your shower safety tips.  First-hand, so to speak.  Up close and personal.”

“Is that what you’re thinking?” Brian’s mouth opens slightly, as Roger climbs on all fours toward Brian and eases the phone from Brian’s hand, reaching over him to place it on the end table.  “Christ, I gotta take some clothes off,” Roger pants, sitting up to urgently unbutton and throw off his shirt and then lifting his hips to dislodge his pants.  

In just his underwear, Roger lays on top of Brian glad that he successfully turned Brian’s attention away from Instagram.  They lock eyes and then lips.  Roger starts kissing Brian hungrily as he pins Brian’s arms by his side.  Brian’s eyes fly open as he tries to move his arms.  

“Easy, my good boy,” Roger coos.  “I got you.”  He starts to unbutton Brian’s shirt as his mouth trails behind making its way down his smooth chest, aching to heat things up.  

“Roger, wait. Come up here.” Brian says suddenly, sitting up, shifting Roger and releasing his hands from the blonde’s grasp in the process.  He finishes the buttons on his shirt and tosses it.  Roger looks at him, confused by the directive to halt.  But he eases himself up over Brian’s long, now bare, torso to align his face with Brian’s.  

“Let me hold you,” Brian says.  He embraces Roger, hugging him into his chest, and stroking his back.  Roger lets his weight sink into Brian, resting his head in the crook of Brian’s neck, sheltered by the taller man’s flowing hair. Though their bodies have changed over the years, the way they piece together so easily has not. Between them lay over 50 years of friendship, music, brotherhood. Fifty years of love beat in their two hearts, now beating in unison.

“Roger,” says Brian, very present.  “Let’s appreciate this moment together - and what we’re about to do.  And why.”

Roger laughs. “You don’t think this is a wham, bam, thank you, Ma’am situation-do you? Like I’m gonna sneak out in the middle of the night and not call you again?  Brian, I get your having an emotional moment, but I need to get off, and given that it takes some time these days…”

Brian chuckles. “I know,  I want to also. It’s just...during the show, the memories started flooding in…..and you’re the constant in them.  We’re the constant.”

‘Yes, that is true.” Roger says, considering Brian’s sentiments.

Brian continues, “Through most of my life-good, bad-all of it. I could – I can - count on you…” I love you. And, I want to make love to you….” Brian says, his eyes tearing a bit.  

“I love you too. AND, I‘m glad you can tear yourself away from Instagram to focus on me…and us.” Roger smiles.  “So, how about we get those pants off?”

And with that, Roger eases Brian out of his pants and positions himself over him, thrusting into him.  They move together, feeling each other getting hard, delighted that even after all these years they still turn each other on so easily, so quickly.  

Roger looks at him, panting heavily.  “So…how about those shower tips.”

“Ah yes,” Brian said.

They help each other up and, holding hands, walk to the large bathroom with a walk – in shower that easily accommodates two.  

“Here, let me demonstrate.”  Brian says, assuming a professorial tone and grabbing a bunch of rolled hand towels from the generous supply neatly organized in a wicker basket on the floor.   “See, you lay them out – around the drain-not over it-before you step in.  And, let me put one near the wall, since no doubt that’s where you’ll be spending some time.”  He winks, as he positions the towel.  He grabs two large towels and spreads them on the towel warmer next to the shower and turns it on.  Then, he removes his boxers and steps onto a towel, reaching his arm out to Roger who grasps it and enters the shower, stepping on a towel opposite him.  Brian turns on the water which warms instantly and he embraces Roger. They kiss passionately, lathering each other up with musk shower gel and smoothing it over each other’s bodies. Brian starts to caress Roger’s cock and the drummer moans. “God I love hearing you …” Brian says as Roger grasps the guitarist’s firm arms to steady himself as he starts to rock in time to Brian’s movements on his member.

“Turn around, let me help you.” Brian helps Roger spin around and step on the towel closest to the wall and then grabs the bath oil from the shelf.  He prepares Roger, who steps his legs wider. When he’s ready, Brian enters him slowly, running his hand up Roger’s back, as Roger moans, bending toward the wall.

“Oh, babe, that’s good…” Roger says.

Brian wraps his other hand around Roger’s cock, and they both moan softly, continuing their movements. The warm water flows over them, as they move together reflecting their love, which changed and grew through the years - a love that celebrated their triumphs; cushioned their disappointments and frustrations; contained and sheltered them when their lives unraveled in unexpected ways.

‘M close,” Roger grunts, finally, and Brian picks up his pace.  Roger climaxes, Brian follows.  They continue to move together and finally Brian separates.  Roger turns around, his back against the shower wall and Brian plants gentle kisses on his face and his neck.  

“That was great.  Amazing, actually.” Roger says. Brian winks at him and turns to shut off the water.  

“Yes, it was. As usual. Stay there.”  Brian gives him a kiss on the mouth and steps on a towel close to the door to grab the warmed towels.  He gives one to Roger and starts to dry himself off.  

They exit the shower and grab the plush white robes hanging on the hooks.  

“So, what do you think of my shower safety tips?”  Brian asks intensely as they tie their robes and walk toward the bedroom.  

“Very effective!”  Roger compliments.  “Glad you won’t be posting that demo on your Instagram account though.”  

They both burst into laughter as they climb into bed, wrapping their limbs around each other and embrace.  

 @iamnotbrianmay​ @warriorteam1924​ @hey-holtzy​

Notes

1.      This is based on a quote was spoken by Tess McGill, a smart secretary, played by Melanie Griffith to an executive, Jack Trainer, played by Harrison Ford, in the 1988 film Working Girl, a movie about working your way up in the corporate world. I substituted ‘head for business’ to ‘head for science’ to reflect our science-y Roger.

2.      This line is from the song “You took the Words Right out of my Mouth (Hot Summer Night)” by Meat Loaf.

[splat-dragon]

Your hands upon A deadman's gun, and you're Lookin' down the sights

“No matter what happens,” John said, cupping his hands and boosting Abigail up into the saddle behind Jack, “you gotta keep riding and don’t look back.” He closed his eyes, willing his voice to be steady. “And don’t be worrying about me, you hear?”

“Listen to me. When the time comes, you gotta run and don’t look back. This is over.”

Unbidden, Arthur’s voice echoed in his ear. That was what the man had said to him, wasn’t it? And he found himself, suddenly, knowing how he must have felt. Watching as those he loved rode away, knowing that he would never see them again, and that he was walking to his own grave.

He had tried, tried to not have let Arthur die in vain. His brother had died so that John and his family might live in peace, and so John had done all he could to keep from following in his footsteps. And yet, now, as he moved to peer between the barn doors, he found himself putting his feet in prints that weren’t his own. Hadn’t been his own, he realized, in quite a long time. How long had it been, he wondered as he looked at the lawmen, since he started to repeat history?

He had been a fool to think he’d be left in peace. They had used him, made him kill what was left of the Van Der Linde Gang. Javier—the man had been hanged, and he was sorry for it. They had been good friends, once. Bill—he had killed him himself, and felt no great sorrow. He had never been a great man, or even a good one, and the world was better off without him. And Dutch—dead by his own hand, jumping off a cliff. Why?

He thought, perhaps, that somewhere inside of Dutch Van Der Linde was Dutch. The man that had taken him in, raised him, given him a home. Had called him Son, taught him to read and write although he would have made a perfectly good soldier while unable to do either. Despite what the man had done, John liked to think that there had been good in him, once. Before Micah had joined the Gang, before Dutch had fallen apart. There was no way Dutch could have pretended, could have acted in the way he cared for them. No way he could have faked the worry in the way he had sat by his bedside when he was down with a fever; the terror on his face when Art had collapsed after being shot when they were young and stupid. Perhaps, he thought—hoped?, the Dutch that was buried deep inside had not wanted to make his Son go through the pain of turning a gun on him.

John was glad that it was only those three he had been sent after. He would never have been able to find it in himself to kill Pearson—running his store in Rhodes—or Tilly, or Sadie, Mary-Beth or Charles. None of them had drawn attention to themselves, he supposed, as Bill or Javier or Dutch had. Well, Sadie had, but it would be nigh impossible to track her down in South America, the same with Charles in Canada.

And so the only known living member of the Van Der Linde Gang was John Marston. The man who had spent the last couple of months robbing and slaughtering his way across the states and down through Mexico.

John hoped they would get rid of his body after they killed him. He doubted they would have the decency to, he was little more than a dog to be put down. But he didn’t want to put Jack or Abigail through the trauma of having to find him, or bury him for that matter. Let him be gone, nothing more than bloodstained dirt and spent bullets to mark his last stand.

John looked down at his gun, checking the chamber. He had six bullets, and he intended to make every one of them count. There would be no changing his fate; perhaps if he had more bullets, or a gun with a larger magazine he might have been able to steal a few more months, a few more years. But he intended on going down fighting.

Ross wouldn’t care, of course. He was another Colm, a man who cared more about numbers than anything. Every man that John shot—that had been shot over the last half hour—would be replaced by the next day, if not sooner. The paperwork might inconvenience Ross, but he would feel no great sorrow over his men’s passing. John would never understand leaders like that, how they could send men to die without even caring.

For all of his faults, Dutch had cared. When they were ill, any of them, even those who had been with the Gang for a short time, he would stay with them. Make sure they had what they needed, made sure they were grounded if they were lost to fever dreams. If they needed to, they could go to him for anything. A worry, a fear, even if they just needed someone to sit with after spending a week hunting alone, he would be there. He knew everything about them—who they had been before, their hopes, their fears, their dreams. Everything, down to their favorite foods (he would never admit it, but John and Arthur always found it suspicious that Pearson would make their favorites around the holidays) and their favorite colors (every year, everyone got a handkerchief in that color for Christmas—the box was unsigned, but they knew). When Gang members died, Dutch himself helped to engrave their headstones.

And yet these men were sending people to their deaths without knowing their names.

The lantern's light caught on the barrel of the gun, and he couldn’t help but to grin. It was a pistol that Arthur had given him when he sent him off. He rolled it over in his palm, looking at the carefully etched carving of a stag on the grip. Arthur had taken it off the corpse of an old gunslinger, and it was a fitting gun for his end. The weapon had a blood-soaked past—Arthur had killed the man who wielded it, and that man had killed a great many of his opponents. What was six more lives to the gun?

Even now, Arthur was protecting him. Twelve years gone, and he still found himself beneath the man’s wing. They had had their fair share of differences, had spent the better part of the last few years of their lives at each other's throats, but in the end Arthur was, and always would be, his big brother. The kind who would do anything to keep his hare-brained fool of a younger brother from being killed, not allowing even death itself stop him.

 He felt like a damned fool.

He should never have let his guard down. It had been twelve years since he had run with the Gang, but he had only started keeping his head down four years ago. And even then, he had still gone by John Marston, the well-known name of a wanted gunslinger nine times out of ten, instead of Jim Milton, a pseudonym he had used for years. Hell, he had even bought Beecher's Hope in his real name!

Shit, Beecher's Hope. What had he been thinking? Right next to Blackwater of all places! It had been years, sure, but people don't forget! His Bounty Poster had been hung up there for years, for Christ's sake! Sure, Abigail had wanted the place. But she hadn't even seen a picture, he could have bought a farm, any farm, and she would have been happy. He should have thought for once in his life, taken them all someplace far away. Moved up to Canada, like Charles, or followed Sadie to South America.

 As John cracked the door to the barn open, peering out for only a moment to count how many Pinkertons waited for him outside, a figure crossed the threshold that, only moments before, his family had ridden across. Hay didn't give beneath their boots, didn't crunch to betray their presence. The sun nearly shone through them, making them glow in an ethereal way.

They approached John, and yet he remained unaware of their presence. If he were to turn around, however, he would have come face to face with Arthur Morgan.

The man looked hale, and whole, and healthy, as though he had never grown sick, the Gang never splintered. As though he weren't, at that moment, little more than dust six feet under a long rotted headstone. His blue eyes were mournful, lips upturned in a morose, yet somehow proud smile. His blond hair was silhouetted by the sun, angelic in a way that didn't fit someone who had lived as he had.

He had tried, in the end, he had. Arthur had been desperate to use what time he had left to give John and his family—Arthur's family—a chance to live. Not to survive, but to truly live. And he was so proud of them: of Abigail, for standing by John’s side through it all, of Jack, for being such a smart kid, having such high aspirations. The kid would make a fantastic lawyer someday, an incredible author; he had come so far. Of John, for going straight despite how hard it had been, for finally stepping up and being a father to his boy, for being a loving husband to Abigail, for never raising his gun against another man except in self-defense, until his hand had been forced.

John shivered, and closed the door. Anxiety knotted, low in his stomach, and despite himself he contemplated, just for a moment, running. Slipping out the open barn door and bolting for the fence line, relying on the barn to obscure him from the Pinkerton's sight until he was in the tall golden grass, able to steal a horse and make his escape.

The knot in his stomach released, suddenly, and he was filled with warmth, a sudden courage. He could never do that, had only contemplated doing so for a heartbeat. Even if he did manage to escape, he would spend the rest of his life on the run. The Pinkertons wouldn't allow him to live, would hunt him down as a pack of hounds relentlessly harry a stag. He would never be able to return to Jack and Abigail, would have to let them think he was dead, but even then they would still be in danger. The Pinkertons would forever be watching them, expecting him to return; even if Abigail remarried (and a part of him revolted at the thought) they would still watch her for the slim chance he showed up at their doorstep. If he faced them, allowed himself to be struck down, then Abigail and Jack would be safe. No longer would they have ties to the Van der Linde Gang, no longer would need to be under the Pinkertons' eye.

Arthur squeezed John's shoulder, trying to convey that he was there for him, even though he knew his brother couldn't feel his touch. He had always been there for him, following him as a stag after his death. Had been there when he struck down Bill, had collected The Bear and sent him on his way. Was there when John watched Javier hang; had waited for the Coyote to wake before sending him after The Bear. Had watched as Dutch spared him the pain of shooting the man he still considered a father, and had laid beside The Lion until it opened its eyes, and watched it greet The Fox. There were so many things he wished to do; he wished to grab his pistol that no longer hung at his hip, to tell John to wait at the other side of the barn door while he counted down, before they kicked it open like they had so long ago, striking down the entirety of the gathered Pinkertons with ease. But he couldn't; he was little more than air, now, able only to watch John's story unfold, and hope that, somehow, he knew he was there.

John rolled his shoulders back, straightened his spine. He checked his gun a final time, making certain that it would fire when he pressed the trigger. He had made a great many mistakes in his life, but he refused to make even one now. When Ross returned, he wanted him to have to say that a single man had taken down six of his men in the time it took them to strike him down.

With Arthur at his side, hand on his shoulder, John brought his hands up. The barn doors swung open, and the Pinkertons raised their guns.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Into the Dark (11/?)

A/N: Thor has learned a thing or two about a thing or two. And he’s finally smart enough to use it. 

Thor watches you heal slowly. He watches you like a hawk, ready to scoop you up at any moment’s discomfort. He doesn’t care if he ever wins your love again, he just wants you to be safe and happy. He wants to make sure that you never have another night crying while he snores next to you.

Loki and Brunhilde get considerably more helpful, telling him where you’ve gone when they spot him looking for you. You bridge New Asgard and Faerie together, uniting them into one kingdom. It’s a strange sort of felicity. Having your Mother and cousin in reach again is helpful to you and so they stay. They coddle you and it’s not uncommon for the three of you to be found sipping tea in your garden when Thor strolls by in the cottage in the evening to bring you flowers. 

He hasn’t been permitted to live there but on bad nights, when he comes to bring you flowers and you reach for his sleeve, not able to bring yourself to take his hand but needing him to stay close, he gets to sleep over. He pulls you against him, cradling you gently until his hands in your hair and the warmth of his body lull you into sleep. Sometimes, even with him near you to be a wall of warmth and comfort, the nightmares that woke you screaming and jolting out of bed made him thankful for his strength as he locked his arms around you and held you to him, rumbling endearments and jostling you gently to try and wake you. He hated those nights. When nothing could calm you and you still dragged yourself out of bed in the morning bleary red eyes and trembling hands.

“Sweetheart,” he protested, taking your coffee cup and your plate before you dropped them, “You need rest.” You were losing weight at an alarming pace. You ate little and slept less. You mostly ran on autopilot. It was like watching you on Asgard except it broke his heart. “I’m okay,” you say rubbing your eyes, “I just need to keep moving.”

Thor frowns and pulls out your chair, “I think we need a holiday,” he coaxes. “Just us for a little while. You can read books and lay in a hammock all day. We’ll just relax and you can teach me how to cook.” He rubs your shoulders and works his thumbs into the back of your neck gently, looking for sore spots to ease out. You sigh, “I don’t want you to have to deal with me alone for that long.”

“Deal with you?” he asks slowly, “That implies that you’re a problem.” He turns your chair and kneels in front of you. “You’ve never been the problem, Y/N. You’ve always been so fucking kind and patient. So much fucking better than me. I was always the problem. I wouldn’t put my pride aside for anyone. Not even you. Not when we were betrothed, not at our wedding, not when you were with child, not any time after that.” He cradles your face in his hands and kisses your nose, “This is not a burden, my queen. This is an honor. The highest honor you could pay me... Let me do this for you?”

He leans in slowly, capturing your lips in a careful kiss. He feels your hesitation. This was not dutiful pecks and posturing for his mother. His lips were warm and soft against yours. The hands that cradled your face were tender. It was the first kiss you had always wanted and now that he’s doing it you feel a lot of feelings. 

You’re angry and hurt but you don’t want him to stop. Tears run down your cheeks as the emotions rush through you. You want him to keep kissing you and you lean into him, your hands finding his collar. You’re clumsy and uncertain. He can feel the attraction in you rising for him. The need.

He’s never felt it before and it makes his heart skip. His head swims and his heart pounds. He tries to gentle you but he can’t bring himself to. He can taste the tears on your lips and he keeps his hands on your face gently. When you come up for air with a sob and cover your face with your hands can’t focus for a second. He feels drunk. Drunk and really horny. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time. At least not like this. It’s like he’s an inexperienced boy again as he fumbles for a handkerchief for you. “Y/N,” he murmurs, “Gods, what did you do to me?” he chuckles and wipes your face tenderly. You are not a pretty crier. You also don’t cry unless you’re feelings have gotten so intense you don’t know what else to do. It’s endearing in a way. Your cheeks color, “It’s... it’s a power.” Thor smiles a little. His head is clearing now that he isn’t kissing you. “It happens when I’m attracted to someone.” 

Thor stands slowly and holds out his hands, “Well, sweetheart,” he said, “I think I’d like to keep kissing you if you feel up to it.” You bite your lip and look up at him, uncertain. “You can tell me no,” he said gently, “this is new and probably scary.” You take a deep breath and find your feet reaching for his hands. 

“Please kiss me?” you ask softly. You needed... you needed to know that there was more to intimacy than apathy and violence. You needed to be wanted. You needed to know that your husband was actually here with you and not with Sif or Jane in his mind. Thor can hear the need. The vulnerability in your voice. You’re standing in the kitchen, the last fragile shard of your heart in your hands, begging him to take it and please don’t break it. He leans in and kisses you a little more insistently. He can’t help his hands that slide down your body and knead your hips for a moment making you sigh against his lips. He makes a note of it mentally. He was honestly ashamed that he didn’t know how to touch you but he was grateful to learn. You deserved the world from him. And he was going to give it to you. 

He carried you to the couch and pulled you into him, holding you on his lap and losing himself in the press of your lips on his. He guided you gently, adjusting you and showing you how to move your lips. When your hands find the buttons on his shirt he stills and lets you unbutton them. The god feels a twinge of embarrassment about his body but pushes it away quickly. This isn’t about him and you didn’t feel anything for him as a hard-bodied, chiseled warrior. If you’d rather have him as a soft-bellied king, who is he to argue? When his shirt is off you stop kissing him and smooth your hands over his skin. His soft chest his shoulders, the squishy tum you use as a pillow from time to time. You caress and explore, focused on being allowed to touch him. On even wanting to touch him. Thor holds still. He’s learned enough to know that this is necessary to you. you need to indulge in this. You’re tactile under normal circumstances. You crave casual touch even if it’s only been a day or so since you’ve been touched. It doesn’t surprise Thor at all that a big part of your needs now is just to be allowed to indulge them. To touch the person you’re attracted to after so long denying yourself that. 

Your husband closes his eyes and relaxes under your touch, “That’s nice, Y/N,” he murmurs. “Here,” he shifts you easily to have you straddle his lap and his hands look for the hem of your shirt, sliding his hands under it to touch your skin. You blush and smile at him shyly and Thor rubs your sides, “It’s easier for me to touch you too if you sit this way, sweetheart.” You kiss him again and for the next few minutes, there are no more words. Thor strips you slowly out of your shirt and removes your bra. Taking the time to lavish kisses on your bare skin. His hands are reaching for the button on your pants when the front door bursts open.

“Yo, thunder dork!” Comes Rocket’s voice, “Is it cool if we all crash here for a few days?” Thor curses under his breath and hastily wraps his oversized shirt around you to cover you. “Fuck me,” he mutters. You giggle and hide your face in his shoulder. Thor can’t help it. He laughs. This has got to be retribution from Frigga. He finally wants to have sex with his wife. He has her half-naked and wanting. And he gets cockblocked by the fucking rabbit. Somewhere Odin is laughing. 

Tags:

@lancsnerd@innerpaperexpertcloud@stevieang@peachykeen3502@vxidnik, @past-perfect-future-tense, @trumpettay, @buckysblondie, @golddaggers

[mysterioushogwartsrequests]

You have to do one in which Mc declares to Carlie missing only two weeks for the Yule Ball, but this rejects it, saying that he only sees her as a friend. Being so, Mc gets bad but tries to maintain the posture. In those two weeks before Ball I want anguish and jealousy (Charlie's jealousy). Let the Leguarden Leviosa boy participate, being one of the boys to invite Mc to the Ball. The rest I leave you imagine in a happy ending with Charlie or not.

I hope this is okay!

I tried to make it not happy or cheesy, but I just couldn’t I love writing Happy Charlie way too much 

Charlie Weasley was considered a very smart member of Gryffindor House. As a member of multiple organizations, he always made sure to keep up with his studies and his Quidditch pratices. However, when it came to romantic relationships, he had the tendency to mistake affection for a very good friendship, frequently oblivious of his own feelings.

He also failed to realized this when his asked him to one of the most prestigious events in Hogwarts history. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?” asked (Y/N) finally, after many weeks of debating and chickening out. Her crush on Charlie had grown stronger, with his playful touches and their curse-breaking adventures, it was no surprise she had fallen this hard for him.Tulip Karasu, Penny Haywood, and Rowan Khanna had reassured (Y/N) (L/N) that Charlie wouldn’t say no. 

Which, in turn, was not the best course of action. Charlie Weasley stared at (Y/N) rather curiously, it was his impression that (Y/N) had a crush on his older brother, Bill Weasley. So it was safe to say that her invitation caught him by surprise. Nonetheless, he didn’t recognize his own feelings towards her, “I’m sorry,” Charlie uttered, “I only see you as a friend” He replied with a small smile, hoping not to offend her or upset her.

(Y/N) gave a subtle nod, attempting the hide her disappointment, “No. it’s fine!” She exclaimed, “It didn’t have to be romantic or anything, but if you don’t want to go with me that’s fine” She rambled, packing up her things, “I better get going” She muttered as she rushed out of The Great Hall. Penny, Tulip, Tonks, and Rowan were waiting by the double doors, wanting to hear their friend’s news. But when (Y/N) passed by with tears streaming down her face, the girls automatically switched into protective mode. “Oh no, (Y/N)” Penny muttered, following after her and placing her hand on her shoulder as they walked. “What did he say?” asked Tonks, the tips of her hair turning red from her rising anger, “I’ll beat him up for you, he won’t even see it coming!”

Beside Tonks, Tulip Karasu nodded in agreement, “Yes! He hurt you so we have to make him pay!” she exclaimed as they walked to the (H/H) common room. 

“It’s okay” sniffled (Y/N) taking the handkerchief Rowan had offered her, “I’ll be fine, it’s just that I knew he would say no” (Y/N) cried, feeling embarrassed for asking in the first place. “We’re staying with you, I hope you know that” stated Penny as they reached the common room, “I don’t care if we’re not supposed to be in each other’s common rooms, I’m not leaving you alone!” (Y/N) smiled, feeling grateful for her friends and uttering the password in front of the common room entrance, “Thank you all” she replied as the group of girls snuck inside.“I’ll be fine, I promise” (Y/N) stated weakly, walking towards her dormitory. 

                                                        ϟ ϟ ϟ“(L/N) is absent again?” Snape drawled as he crossed the classroom, facing Rowan Khanna who gave a shy smile. “She’s ill. Throwing up all over the dormitory,” explained Rowan confidently, “Madame Pomfrey said she needed rest” she smiled, handing Snape the forged infirmary note, courtesy of Tulip. “Very well” He answered, carefully eyeing the note before stuffing it in his robe pocket as he returned to address the class. Charlie Weasley turned to look at the empty seat beside Rowan. It was extremely unlike (Y/N) to miss this many classes and if she truly was throwing up everywhere, wouldn’t she be in the infirmary rather than her bedroom? Feeling curious, Charlie shifted towards the Gryffindor boy in front of him, “Ben” he whispered, noticing Ben Copper’s slight twitch as he forced his eyes towards the blackboard.

“Yes?” replied Ben nervously, hoping Snape wouldn’t notice their conversation“Is (Y/N) okay?” asked Charlie, taking note of Ben’s nervous gulp and unmistakable quiver. “Yeah! She’s fine” He laughed, “She’s just, uh- sick, just an illness” replied Ben with a nod, obviously attempting to keep a secret. But before Charlie could question him further, the Potions’ book in front of him slammed open, immediately catching their attention. “Mr. Copper and Mr. Weasley,” Snape called towards their shared desk, “If your conversation is more interesting than my lecture, why don’t the two of you share it with the rest of us,” Snape snapped, glaring towards the two Gryffindors from the front of the classroom.“Sorry, Professor” Ben squeaked while Charlie rolled his eyes, uttering a meaningless apology. “Twenty points from Gryffindor” stated Snape, turning back to his cauldron, “Let’s not lose any more points for your house, Mr. Weasley”                                                          ϟ ϟ ϟ“What an absolute bastard!” yelled Charlie, angrily shoving food onto his plate “Let’s not lose any more points, Mr. Weasley!” He mocked monotonously, pushing his food around with his fork. His best friend, Andre Ewgu, could only laugh as he enjoyed his sandwich, “That’s just Snape, Charlie” He replied, “Just be careful next time” said Andre with a shrug as Charlie sighed in exasperation. On the other side of the hall, Rowan, Penny, Tonks, and Tulip were walking down in a seemingly organized formation. “I don’t understand why we’re doing this!” complained Tonks as Penny shushed her. “(Y/N) doesn’t want to see Charlie, but she has to eat” Penny explained, glancing back at their puffy-eyed friend who hid in the center of their formation. “She also has to get out of her dormitory,” added Rowan, “it’s not healthy for her to stay cooped up all day” The five of them sat down at the table farthest from where Charlie and his friends sat, ensuring (Y/N) remained out of his field of vision.(Y/N) smiled softly at her friends, enjoying their determination to keep her from any more embarrassment, “I could’ve eaten in my room, you four” (Y/N) whispered, picking up a sandwich. Tulip smiled as she grabbed some pudding, “Like Rowan said!” She exclaimed, “Fresh air is good for you, maybe we can go feed the Giant Squid for some extra air” Tonks smiled, slapping Tulip on the back, “That’s a great idea!” She responded and the five girls began to laugh. (Y/N) always enjoyed time with her friends, it took her mind off the whole Yule Ball scenario, but it didn’t take it out of everyone else’s minds. Hogwarts was still full of Yule Ball chatter, what they were going to wear, where they were going to find Dress Robes, and more importantly, who was taking who. “Penny and I are going together,” Tonks grinned, “Thought it’d be easier than some random guy we don’t even know ask us,” Tonks said as she ate her lunch. “It’s going to be a blast” Penny smiled at her friend, happy to be going with someone who already knew her well. “I’m going on my own” Tulip stated proudly, “There isn’t anyone who can handle me and besides, I’d rather spend it with you lot” Rowan sighed, leaning her head against her palm, “I want to ask Bill, but he’d definitely say no” Rowan muttered and (Y/N) gave an apologetic smile. “I don’t think I’m going,” She replied, “but I hope you four have fun,” She said and the four girls looked at (Y/N) with disbelief“You are most definitely going!” Penny exclaimed, “Charlie is a dimwit for not accepting your offer!” “Yeah!” Tulip chimed in, “I’ll go with you if you definitely need a date, I can’t let you stay in your dormitory all day!” Rowan nodded, “If you’re not going, I’m not either” “Me neither,” Tonks replied, “We all go or we all stay, simple as that” The girls began to laugh again, they had each other’s backs and that was for certain. Barnaby Lee walked up to Charlie and Andre, sighing as he sat down, “I’m going to do it” He said and Andre looked at him with surprise “When? Right now? Is she even in here?” Andre questioned and Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Penny and the rest of them are over there so she must be” Barnaby replied, glancing at the giggling girls“Are you talking about (Y/N)?” Charlie asked, “I thought she was ill” Charlie muttered, setting his fork down. Barnaby gave a shrug and pushed himself off the table, “I don’t know why you would think that, but she’s about to be my date for the Yule Ball,” Barnaby grinned, “Wish me luck” Andre gave a nod and watched as Barnaby made his way towards the table. “(Y/N)” Barnaby called softly, “I wanted to ask you something” He muttered, a blush appearing on his cheeks. “He wants to go to the Yule Ball with (Y/N)?” Charlie asked as Andre shushed him. “Yeah?” (Y/N) smiled as she looked up at her friend. “Would you go to the ball with me?” Barnaby asked nervously and her smile instantly fell. “Oh,” She muttered, “Barnaby, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be attending” She replied solemnly as (Y/N)’s friends attempted to signal him so he would change the topic. Tulip stood up, holding Barnaby by the arm, “Sorry, you big lug, the lady isn’t attending” Tulip smiled“I understand,” Barnaby smiled, “See you all later then,” He said as Tulip pulled him back to the Ravenclaw table where Andre and Charlie were. “She’s upset,” Tulip whispered as the slowly made their way, “Charlie turned her down and she won’t stop crying about it, don’t tell anyone though just say she’s ill” Barnaby nodded, “I didn’t know” He muttered as they finally reached the table. Barnaby sat down and Tulip greeted Andre before giving Charlie the “I’ve got my eyes on you” hand motion. Charlie threw his hands up in the air, “What did I do?” He asked, but Tulip had already returned to her friends. With a groan, Charlie picked up his bag and headed towards the Clocktower Courtyard. “What happened?” Andre asked as he watched the five girls exit the Hall, comforting a solemn (Y/N). 

”I want to go,” (Y/N) cried, “But I don’t want to have to face him there and I know he’ll be there with someone prettier or more compatible and I don’t know if I’m up for it”

The girls rushed their crying friend down the corridor. Tulip grabbed extra snacks to serve as comfort food as Tonks scared away any other boys who attempted to ask her to the Ball.

”Bugger off!” Tonks yelled at a third-year Ravenclaw, “We’re busy right now!”

Penny and Rowan rubbed (Y/N)’s back as they exited the hall and traveled to the Astronomy Tower, “It’s okay,” Penny muttered, “We’ll make sure you won’t have to see him if you go, we’ll be a group and we’ll never leave each other’s sides”

Rowan nodded, “Yes! We’ve got your back”

                                                        ϟ ϟ ϟ

“Don’t tell anyone,” Barnaby muttered, “She asked Charlie to the Ball and he turned her down” Barnaby whispered and Andre almost choked on his meal.“You’re joking?” He asked, “Charlie’s obsessed with her!” Andre exclaimed, “He’s always talking about her, it doesn’t make sense” Barnaby gave a shrug and Andre attempted to decipher the situation, “We’re going to have to do some damage control, Lee” Andre stated, devising a plan to get Charlie to admit his feelings.   

                                                       ϟ ϟ ϟ“Do you think she said yes?” Charlie asked his older brother as he skipped rocks along The Black Lake. Bill gave a shrug as he rested against the grass, his arms crossed behind his head, “She could’ve” He replied, glancing at Charlie who had now skipped a rock significantly harder. “That’s...” he muttered, searching for another rock “good” He finished, skipping yet another one. 

Bill raised an eyebrow and propped himself up on his elbows, “Charles Septimus Weasley,” He called teasingly, “Are you jealous?” He asked and Charlie turned suddenly. “No!” He exclaimed, “If she wants to go with Lee, who she doesn’t even know that well, that’s fine” He rambled, “I’m sure he’ll know how to greet her!” He trailed off, “Bring her flowers and tell her she looks positively stunning…” he muttered, “Like a true friend would do” He finished, skipping another rock into the lake before sitting on the grass. Bill rolled his eyes, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Yes, Charles” He joked, “Like a true friend” He couldn’t believe his younger brother could be so oblivious to his own feelings. 

                                                       ϟ ϟ ϟ“Do you want to come to the Yule Ball with me?” A blonde-haired Gryffindor boy asked shyly, “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I sit behind you in Charms Class and I think you’re brilliant” He added (Y/N) gave a soft smile, but responded the same way, “I’m sorry, but I’m not going” She replied and the boy nodded before uttering a small thank you. (Y/N) sighed, laying back against the stone of the Clocktower Courtyard Fountain, waiting for her friends to meet her. She had been actively avoiding Charlie Weasley for the past week and as the Yule Ball came closer more and more potential suitors came her way. 

Every day, she had to turn another suitor down, explaining that she wasn’t attending, but in reality, she really did want to go, just not with any of them. She couldn’t help but feel guilty for turning them away, she knew she would still have fun with them, but the idea of seeing Charlie there with another date turned her away from the event all together. 

There was just something special about Charlie. Maybe it was his gorgeous eyes or the way he could talk about dragons for hours. Or maybe how he looked at her when they were studying as if she was the only girl in the world. 

(Y/N) groaned, questioning why she mistook his feelings of friendship for actual romantic ones.“Hey,” Bill Weasley called as he walked up to her. 

Sitting up, she let out an aggravated sigh, “Listen, if you’re going to ask me to the ball, I’m sorry, but I’m not going” She uttered in frustration, but it only made Bill laugh. “I didn’t come here to ask,” He stated, sitting down beside her, “I came down to talk to you” He smiled, “about Charlie” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “What is there to talk about? I shouldn’t have even asked” She stated, still haunted by his response, “It was embarrassing” Bill sighed, “My brother may be smart, but he’s completely dimwitted when it comes to his own feelings” Bill stated, “He’s absolutely mad about you, but he fails to realize that”(Y/N) couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “He fancies me?” She asked quietly, holding on to the small bit of hope she had, “How can you be sure?” Bill smirked at her as he leaned back on the pillar, “I don’t think someone who gets jealous of every boy that asks you to the ball is not someone who isn’t into you” Bill grinned, “Besides, he keeps raving about how ‘positively stunning’ you’re going to look” He stated before pausing and giving (Y/N) a confident look, “And, I am his older brother so I think you can trust my judgement.”A soft blush and a large smile spread across her face, “Merlin’s beard” She muttered, “He really does fancy me!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around Bill, “Thank you so much! You’re brilliant, Bill!” Inside the Ravenclaw boys’ dormitories, Andre was showcasing his array of dress robes to Barnaby and Charlie. Barnaby was paying close attention, naming some details he didn’t quite enjoy while Andre spewed his rebuttal on why Barnaby’s opinion was highly incorrect. “Who do you think (Y/N)’s going to the Ball with?” Charlie asked, tapping his finger against his cheek. Andre and Barnaby looked at each other with knowing glances, “She’s not going” Barnaby stated, crossing his arms behind his head, “Said something about having too much homework.”Andre nodded in agreement, “Yup, that’s what Rowan told me” he added, hanging up one of his dress robes. Charlie looked up in shock, “She’s not going?!” He asked, “That’s awful... She’s like an Antipodean Opaleye” Charlie muttered dreamily, his eyes focuses on the starry ceiling of the dormitories. “An Anti-what now?” Barnaby asked, scratching his head. “It’s a dragon,” Charlie said, “One of the most beautiful, they have glittering multicolored eyes,” Charlie explained with a lovestruck smile, “(Y/N)’s eyes aren’t multicolor, but the way they light up when she’s excited about something is wonderful” Andre couldn’t believe his friend was so damn blind, he needed to get his plan into motion, “Since you want her to go that badly,” Andre stated, looking through his dress robes, “You wouldn’t mind if I convinced her to go as my date?” He added playfully.Charlie glared at his friend, his eyebrows furrowed tightly as he exclaimed, “You can’t!” Catching himself, he shook his head, “I mean,” Charlie stuttered, “If you want to ask her, that’s fine, I don’t care” He added in nonchalantly, making Barnaby lose the little sense of restraint he had left.“In that case!” Barnaby announced happily, “I lied, she is coming with me to the ball!” He stated proudly making Charlie shoot out of his seat in disbelief. 

“Really?!” He yelled, “That’s fantastic! It’s not like I wanted to go with her anyways and see her in her beautiful gown!” He crossed his arms, “Nope! Not one bit” Looking at the ground, Charlie bit his lip trying to rack his brain as to why he had snapped at his two best mates.

It was as if realization hit him like a rogue bludger.

“Sweet baby Merlin” Charlie muttered, “I think I fancy (Y/N)” He admitted, holding his hair back as he gathered his thoughts.“It’s about damn time!” Andre yelled, slapping his hand against Charlie’s back, “You’re truly daft, Charles!” He exclaimed, “She’s been avoiding you because you turned her down and it took you until now to realize you’re obviously mad about her!” “Merlin! I did turn her down,” exclaimed Charlie in pure anguish, “What am I going to do? I already embarrassed her enough, I’m a bloody idiot!” He groaned, falling back on the bed, his hands covering his face. “Luckily, Barnaby and I have been doing damage control” Andre stated, finally picking out the perfect robes for his friend, “This is for you.” He announced, holding out the neatly pressed robes, “Bill showed me what your mum sent and as your best friend, I refuse to let you wear such an atrocious outfit to The Yule Ball” Charlie grabbed the blue dress robes Andre held out to him and smiled, “Thank you” he said, sprinting out of the dormitory to find (Y/N). 

                                                        ϟ ϟ ϟ

“She doesn’t want to see you!” declared Tonks as Charlie attempted to enter the (H/H) common room, but was halted by Tulip and Tonks glaring up at him. “You broke her heart!” yelled Tulip, jabbing her finger towards Charlie’s chest “You can’t talk to her because you’ll only make her sad!” The frown on Charlie’s face deepened as he listened to the girls talk, “Please, I made a mistake, just let me talk to her” He pleaded, “I want to talk to her about the ball and how I feel” “How you feel?” questioned Tonks, “You’ve made it quite clear how you feel” She stated, “Do you know how much she cried?” “I don’t,” uttered Charlie before taking a deep breath, “And I feel terrible about that, but that is why I need to fix this” He stated, his gaze firm towards his two friends, “Please,” He implored, “let me see her”. Tulip and Tonks exchanged worried glances before silently nodding their heads, “Alright” replied Tulip, “But if you hurt her again, I swear I’ll-” “I won’t,” Charlie cut her off, “I promise” He smiled as the two girls moved from the passageway, giving him room to climb into the common room. There was no ignoring the deafening thump of his heart against his ribcage or how increasingly sweaty his palms became as he strode towards the girls’ dormitory. Disregarding the questioning stares of the younger students, Charlie wiped his palms against the velvet blue fabric of his dress robes as he gripped the makeshift bouquet of flowers he had hastily prepared. Having all these eyes on him exponentially increased his nerves, but he had already messed up once and he was not about to repeat the same mistake. 

“(Y/N)!” called Charlie, halting in front of the dormitory stairs, unable to reach her room due to the jinxes placed on the stairwell, “I need to talk to you! It’s important” He pleaded but was only met with uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t until the dormitory flew open that he heard a voice, but it was not (Y/N)’s

“She doesn’t want to see you right now.” stated Rowan sternly, her arms crossed over her chest, “But you can plead your case from down there.”

(Y/N) quietly made her way towards her door, standing against the wall so Charlie could not see her. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Charlie took a deep breath before looking back up the stairs, “I’m sorry,” He admitted, “I was a complete idiot when I turned you down,” explained Charlie, gripping the bouquet stems tighter, “I didn’t realize how I truly felt about you, but I do now.”

Despite putting up a stern front for the sake of her best friend, Rowan could not help but soften up at Charlie’s heartfelt declaration. Turning her head towards the side, she gave a subtle smile to (Y/N) who bore a cheshire grin herself.

“I’m mad about you, (Y/N) (L/N)” admitted Charlie, “I didn’t realize that before, but I do now and I’m not afraid to say it” He exclaimed and at that moment (Y/N) materialized at the doorway, easing Charlie’s nerves as he continued. 

Grinning up at the stairs, Charlie held up the assortment of flowers towards her, “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball this Friday evening?” He asked and (Y/N) raced down the stairs, wrapping her arms around him.

“Of course, Charlie” She muttered against his neck, “Of course” 

Charlie sighed happily, tightly wrapping his arms around her waist, “I’m sorry it took me this long to realize” He whispered, holding her head against his chest, “I’m a bloody idiot for hurting you, I just-, I’m truly sorry”

(Y/N) smiled up at him, “It’s fine” She smiled, “I forgive you”

After the week of sorrow, (Y/N) finally joined her friends for Yule Ball preparations, happy everything worked out in the end.

[tothewaterhq]

ACCEPTED // INERTIA ASMEA

district twelve → mentor →   dichen lachman fc

pronouns: she/her positive traits: extremely loyal, compassionate, focused negative traits: cynical, selective, blunt

tw: emotional abuse, child abuse, agoraphobia

describe their arena:

The 46th arena was just like any other forest at first glance. The tributes were surrounded by towering trees and peculiarly tall grasses; boulders covered with moss, hiding behind them deep caves used by smart and lucky tributes as their safe place – of course, only if they’re free of predators – and in the middle was a wide clearing where the Cornucopia was situated. The arena had the tributes thinking that it was the most normal setting with mutts ready to chomp on unlucky tributes within their line of sight.

But the setting turned out to be what people would call a post-apocalyptic world. The earth had recovered from the damage caused by nuclear explosions, resulting to the extinction of humans and animals alike. Or so, they thought. The contaminated air had caused a mutation amongst surviving animals, and so the tributes encountered gigantic spiders, snakes, eagles, gorillas, and others.

bio: 

Inertia was a product of a drunken night and nine months of grumbling about an unwanted child. Therefore, it wasn’t a surprise when a newborn baby was eventually deposited in one of the district’s alleyways one cold night of December.

The woman who gave birth to her hadn’t been subtle, however. Someone saw her put the baby beside the trash littering the ground, but instead of chasing after her and reprimanding her for her inhumane decision, Inertia was wrapped in thin blanket, instead, and was brought to a barely livable home. Tess, the woman who took in the baby, reasoned to her husband that it was the perfect opportunity to finally start a family. However, it wasn’t very easy for Tess’ husband to accept a stranger in his home. That, and it only solidifies the fact that he couldn’t provide his wife a child, so he refused to nurture the child as his own.

With the lack of support from her husband, Tess found herself unable to keep the enthusiasm she once had while she was carrying the newborn baby home. She wasn’t as hardhearted as Inertia’s birth mother, however, so she kept the baby and raised her out of responsibility and guilt, regardless of the circumstance.

As such, Inertia grew up reserved and unfamiliar with the concept of taking other people’s needs into consideration. When there wasn’t food to be fed into their stomachs, Inertia ran outside and scavenged for her own survival – most of the time, she stole what little other people had in their possession, and not once was she ever caught, courtesy of her stealth and light weight. For the few times that someone did see her and threatened to tell on her, she settled matters with her fists, scared whoever it was that dared interrupt her business into submission – into never telling anyone about her. It was through these little encounters that Inertia somehow unexpectedly found her strength in fighting.

That was, until another baby girl came into the picture when Inertia was a month shy of  thirteen, right after the death of Tess’ husband due to old age and lack of nutrition. It was the night of the baby’s arrival that Inertia found out about herself; about the woman who left her to die, only to be saved by the same woman who only spared her enough compassion to keep her alive instead of dying in the streets.

Inertia wasn’t sure how to act around the baby, but there was something in the way those blue eyes peered up at her with such innocence, with the way that toothless smile seemed to make her feel light after another day of barely caring at school, and the way those chubby, little fingers held onto her longer finger that made her care.

And cared, she did.

It was scary at first: having to think of another mouth to feed as she stole a small portion of food from a family of four. Her young mind knew that babies weren’t old enough to consume bread, so she left the responsibility of making sure the baby was fed properly to Tess, at least until the baby was old enough to consume what Inertia could provide for her. To make up to it, she made sure to bring home thicker blankets for the baby, and even learned how to sew new clothes out of old ones – at least, the dead man’s clothes could be put to use.

The baby was later on named Sage, and Inertia swore to protect her sister for as long as she was capable of doing so. It was nerve-wracking, of course; knowing that since turning twelve, it’d be the first time for her to care so much about the possibility of being reaped. She’d been so lucky in the past years, some would say, but Inertia – without Sage in her life – didn’t care whether she was reaped or not. Get reaped – she had nothing to lose. Be spared – guess she’s stuck another year with Tess.

Not now. Not anymore. Now, she had Sage to think of. Now, she had that child, who was barely one, to care for, and even if she knew that Tess would never let her perish, she couldn’t find it in herself to trust the old woman enough. Not when she was there to make sure that Sage would ever lose the innocent smile on her face.

But it’s as if whoever was up in the clouds heard her prayers every night, and interpreted it the other way around. A year later, when Inertia turned fourteen, her name was finally called and, with no one to volunteer in her stead, it was inevitable for her to end up in the games.

The only token she had was a handkerchief with Sage’s name sown on one corner. It was Tess who gave it to her, and for that simple, yet meaningful act, Inertia decided that she was going to save Tess, too.

She was going to win the games – not for her sake, but for Sage.

Inertia was wise enough (or foolish, for others) to try and avoid the bloodbath during the first few minutes of the games. She ran as fast as she could in the middle of the clearing, grabbed her backpack, a machete, and an archer’s bag not far from the Cornucopia’s mouth – no doubt taken for granted, for some stupid reason – and sought refuge deep in the forest. She came upon a boulder covered in moss, sitting carelessly by the foot of the mountain, and found a little passageway right beside it, leading into a cave safe enough to be a sanctuary from the killings happening outside of it.

For the first few days, Inertia was in and out of her little cave, the entrance now curtained by veins and leaves to avoid attention. She killed tributes when necessary and stole when she was outside, and lit a little fire in her cave when it was time for a short rest during the dark hours. The cave was her only refuge, and Inertia eventually came to hate the world outside; hated the openness and options for hiding, the fear of being watched by someone she couldn’t see.

Being able to stay alive for longer than a day probably got to Inertia’s head, which resulted to her being careless one night. She forgot to kick some soil on the fire she’d built before passing out, and when she woke up a few hours, there was a girl sitting right next to her, with her small hands hovering above the embers surrounded by little rocks.

“I’m tired,” the little girl murmured brokenly when Inertia sat up and grabbed her machete, shaking in fear and coldness.

Inertia knew she shouldn’t trust her. Not during these times, no. She couldn’t afford to get killed because she let her walls down, but the little girl’s eyes were the same shade of Sage’s blue ones; her hair was the same dirty blonde and her bleeding gums – her missing teeth – as ironically funny as it was, they all reminded Inertia of Sage, and she found herself dropping her weapon and staring at the young girl in resignation.

“What’s your name?”

“Rica.”

Rica was twelve and she was from the eleventh district, Inertia later learned. Against her better judgments, Inertia took Rica under her wings and helped her during the games. She told her strictly to stay inside the cave during the times she would go out to kill and scavenge for supplies, and at night, they’d share stories about themselves – though Rica did most of the storytelling than Inertia.

It was through this that Inertia found out about Rica’s father hurting her, pouring his bitterness and pain over the death of his only son during the previous games on the undeserving, young girl. Rica had bruises and cuts in places where people should not see and touch, and that night, Inertia wasted her energy and arrows on mutts to let out the anger simmering deep inside her.

Because what if it was Sage? What if she died and Tess, with her old age, couldn’t take care of Sage, anymore? What would happen to Sage?

Who will keep her sister safe?

And… Rica. If she won, she’d have to return to her father. That bastard would get to live a good life that he didn’t deserve, and who’s to say that he’d stop hurting Rica?

Who would take care of Rica?

When the sun was slowly peeking over the horizon, Inertia made her way back into the cave with a small bag full of fruits for breakfast. She sat down with Rica and told her a story about this place called heaven, a place she read about in one of the books in school. She told Rica that not a lot of people believed in heaven because there’s solid proof of such place existing, but that a huge percentage of people from the past insisted that it was real; that it was where good people go to experience everlasting peace.

“So, everything’s good there?”

“Yes,” Inertia smiled tightly. “They said that this thing – the Hunger Games – doesn’t exist there. They said that everyone is smiling and laughing and… and loving each other. There’s only peace. No war, no sadness, no tears. It’s a place where people like you should go.”

“But I’m not good,” Rica replied meekly. “I killed the boy from the sixth district when he tried to steal my apples.”

“You were defending yourself. It’s why you have a toothless smile.”

Rica giggled – and it’s a sound that Inertia stored in her memories.

“So, how do we get there? To heaven?”

Inertia hesitated for only a second when Rica asked her the question. When she told her about the fruit, Rica gave her a thoughtful look and Inertia knew – she knew that Rica knew. Rica was from the eleventh district; she was well-versed about poisonous and non-poisonous fruits. Rica knew, and yet she took the small, round fruit anyway and popped it in her mouth, flashing Inertia that toothless smile one last time before succumbing into a deep, everlasting slumber.

Her death was announced shortly after she took her last breath.

Rica looked peaceful, at least, like she was just sleeping. No pain. No blood. No agony,

Beside her still body, Inertia sat with her arms around her legs. She watched as the fire slowly turned into nothing, waited until it was the perfect time to carry Rica’s body outside of the cave so the hovercraft could claim it.

She hid and watched from afar as the device took Rica, and just like that, something broke inside Inertia.

Grabbing what was left of her supplies, along with a bludgeon she found lying near the mouth of the cave, she cried out loud and hunted every single tribute she could find –male, female, injured or not, young or old.

She killed them.

She killed them all.

For Rica.

For Sage.

PLAYED BY // HAN