#that said. as a result every once and a while my brain conjures up the absolute nightmare scenario

[astriiformes]

I do think sometimes about that week (right after Agony of a Witch) where even as someone who wasn't following anybody specifically for TOH at the time I was keenly aware that most people into the show were like actively calling for Lilith's blood and I was just like hm. I still like her actually.

Can only assume there was some aro-to-aro mental communication happening there because nothing like it has happened to me before or since. Usually I need a lot more persuading to get behind a true antagonist (or someone who appears to be one) but with her it was just like. Well you see. I think she's neat.

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic March 2 – prompt 2: Rictusempra – word count 967

Rictusempra - Disarms an opponent by tickling them

“You… You… You… Id…iot.”

Now, normally Remus would have used way worse insults for that particular situation, but he was laughing so much that that was all he could manage to say out loud.

It had all started, as always, because Sirius was bored. James was at Quidditch practice, Peter had disappeared somewhere with Madeline from Ravenclaw and Remus knew he should have gone to the library to do his homework, but he had instead decided to work on it in the dorm, thinking that maybe his presence would convince Sirius he had to revise Charms as well. At first it had seemed to work, Sirius had joined Remus on his bed, asking to see his notes on some spells and practicing them in silence. And then, Remus had been too concentrated on re-reading a particularly complicated charm to notice Sirius had put down his book and was pointing his wand at the parchments neatly piled between the two of them. The spell had only been murmured but the papers had immediately raised in an elegant spiral before scattering all around the dorm.

“Sirius!”

“What?” Sirius had grinned. “I’m practicing!”

“My notes!”

“You know them all by heart Moony, you don’t need them.”

Remus had taken a deep breath before diving for his own wand.

“You’re right, I think I do,” he had said before muttering something that had immediately turned Sirius’s long dark hair blonde.

“Take it back!” Sirius had shrieked.

“What, you don’t like your new look?” Remus had laughed before a magically conjured pillow had hit him in the face.

“I won’t be caught dead looking like Narcissa’s fiancé!”

Sirius had managed to turn his hair back to its original colour, but then there had been a mini tornado which had made the dorm even messier than before, a strangling quilt, the Snitch James preciously kept on his bedside table had hit Sirius in the back of the head, Remus’s legs had decided they wanted to dance a frantic can-can, Sirius had been ambushed by five chocolate frogs, a book had kept nudging Remus off the bed and Sirius’s broom had kept slapping him across the face every time he had tried another spell. And then, disaster. Panting and disheveled, they had pointed their wands at each other in the same instant, shouting:

“Rictusempra!”

That had been it. They had been laughing uncontrollably for at least ten minutes now, none of them able to string enough letters together to say the counterspell. As he rolled on the quilt, hands pressed on his stomach, Remus hoped one of the others would come back soon and help them. By his side, Sirius was almost folded in half, tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Help,” he laughed as he finally fell on his face on Remus’s shoulder.

Somewhere under all the laughter and his sides starting to hurt, Remus still felt his heart give that familiar jolt of panic combined with happiness he had every time Sirius was too close to him.

“Gonna… die,” he managed to mutter, not sure if he meant of laughter or just of Sirius Black being pressed against him on a bed of all places.

“Need… get… up,” Sirius wheezed, trying to push himself up but falling again against Remus, his face now in the crook of his neck.

Remus groaned and did his best to push Sirius off him, only resulting in them laughing in each other’s faces, the tiniest space ever separating them.

“Idi… ot,” Remus sobbed with laughter again.

Sirius had both arms around Remus’s neck now and still wasn’t managing to push himself up. Remus was starting to think that if James or Peter didn’t walk in soon he would really die this time, when Sirius fell back once again. Remus closed his eyes, bracing for the impact, but it never came. Instead, he felt Sirius’s mouth, trembling with laughter, against his. The spell made him laugh again while he caught Sirius’s lips in his. He felt as if his brain had stopped working as their mouths clashed together while his arms shot up around Sirius’s back because everything was so ridiculous, and they should have focused on trying to utter the counter-spell and he would be damned if he didn’t cling to Sirius Black’s lips with all he had in him. He was almost gasping for air when Sirius cupped his cheek and pulled himself up just enough Remus could look at him without squinting.

“We… stopped laughing,” Remus said before groaning at the fact that of all things he could have said, that was what his brain had come up with.

“Emergency countermeasure,” Sirius smiled. “I figured if we didn’t have enough air to breathe the spell would annul itself.”

Remus’s heart dropped.

“You… Knew it would work by kissing?” he forced himself to say.

“I hoped it would.”

Remus let go of Sirius’s back and nodded. Sirius fucking Black. Didn’t make the effort to study, still bloody brilliant at magic. If just he could have been that brilliant somewhere far away so that Remus could have a breakdown in peace now. But Sirius didn’t move.

“Are you waiting for me to tell you you don’t have to revise Charms anymore?”

“I’m waiting for you to tell me if this is okay,” Sirius said softly.

“You being a smartass? If it wasn’t we wouldn’t have been friends for so long.”

“No. This.”

Sirius got closer again, the hand not cupping Remus’s cheek now trailing his lips.

“There’s no need for a counter-spell now, Moony,” Sirius said softly. “Is this okay?”

Remus’s brain stopped working again as he wrapped his arms back around Sirius’s waist and moved him even closer.

“Yes,” he breathed, half a second before there was no space between their mouths again.

[simpfiles]

Love Letter |1.2K|

request.      Re: Valentine's day prompt. Is Silco gets a secret admirer too cliche? He's starts looking at his henchpeoples handwriting to track down who thinks he's got pretty eyes 😍 -anon

a/n.     it’s mega cliche but i’m slut for it lmaoo. full warning, silco and reader share one brain cell in this. probably one of my sillier fics for silco.

He takes offense at the letter. A dour scowl marring his stoic features and he calls an assembly of his underlings. You file in his office with the others, utter horror mangling your innards at the sight of your love letter in his hand. He flips the note down, hiding its contents from prying eyes, then nods to Sevika. She moves without a sound as Silco begins his lecture, “Sevika will be passing out clipboards with a pen and paper. Write your name and the sentence at the top and you may leave.”

A near tangible ubiquitous confusion over takes his office as everyone except you exchanges looks. Some even shrug, considering this to be another one of Silco’s more eccentric ways of self validation. Why else would he make his entire staff write a sentence complimenting his eyes?

But you knew why. Staring down at the printed sentence with apprehension you switch your writing hands. It takes you a bit longer than the others, but you manage to conjure a distinctly different penmanship from the one in your letter where you told him how attractive you find him. Satisfied with the result, you avoid all eye contact with your boss while handing Sevika your clipboard on your way out.

At home your horror takes a downwards decrescendo into frenzied hysteria, inevitably dissolving into dismay. How could you have been so stupid as to give him that letter?? You could punch yourself in the face. I SHOULD PUNCH MYSELF IN THE FACE! At least then you’d have an excuse not to come into work the next day. The rest of the night consists of you furiously screaming into a pillow and flailing your arms every so often.

Meanwhile, in his office, Silco compares handwriting styles with a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He absent mindedly swirls the glass in his hand, making no attempt to hide his blatant disgust. 

“Sir,” Sevika steps forward looking over the surplus of ‘evidence’ spread out on his desk, “Is this really a good use of your time?” Piltover has increased mining production, causing more fractures in the Undercity’s architectural foundation. Gas leaks have gone up and their sources of water are now flammable from the tap. “There are other issues that require your attention.”

“You think I’m being egotistical.”

“I think you’re getting distracted.”

It’s your paper that’s in his hand when he makes a low hum in agreement. “I think I’m done.”

–

His office feels much bigger when you’re by yourself. Sitting in an old wooden chair facing an empty grand desk, reverts you back to that metaphorical child sitting in the principal's office. The only difference being the worst they could do was notify your parents. You doubt Silco held as much leniency. A quick punishment, however severe, is all you ask for.

The door clicks open. 

His steps are muffled by the rug. 

You clench your hands tightly together. 

He stands in front of you, leaning on his desk and slides the accursed letter forward. “Did you write this?” His eyebrow arches at the abject shock that overwhelms your expression and mentally calculates your innocence. For your sake and his, he hopes you didn’t.

You lick your lips, buying time as you run through your options. Silco was never the type to ask questions for answers he already held. You knew this, recalling once he said by doing so it wastes everyone’s time and gives others a false sense of ego and security. Just as you knew that there was nothing he hated more than the hubris of others without the spine to back it up. It was so maddening how much you knew about him and how he plagued your every thought but you were just another face in the crowd to him. Maybe just this once, your anonymity would work for you and not against, “Why would I?”

That’s the million gold piece question. “I’m wondering the same. I wouldn’t expect you to be the author of such a mocking letter.”

Wait, stop.

He doesn’t. “However, you hesitated yesterday before switching hands. You didn’t use your dominant hand.”

But the letter… mocking? Does he think…

“That’s why it took you longer to finish than others. A task you complete relatively fast considering your educational opportunities.”

He thinks my love letter was out of spite?? Your mind is reeling, unable to keep up with the conversation as he regals more trivial facts about yourself you didn’t even know. Things that even if he were the best boss in the world–and he wasn’t–he wouldn’t know. Unless…

“Boss!” you shoot up and grab the letter from his hand, pointing ferociously at its contents and ignoring the rising temperature of your face. “This is a love letter!” you explain, twinges of something clearly coating the outer rim of his visional, diffusing his poised expression with uncertainty.

A deeply critical expression settling on his face, still hesitant to engage with your notion but obliged to react, snatching the letter back from you, reading over your words once more with new context: as far as he is concerned, this is not a love letter. “A love letter is a sonnet of praises.” Not a list of his inadequacies. A broken nose that’s been set incorrectly too many times. A busted eye poisoned by river toxins and shimmer. Chipped teeth that caused him to whistle while he talked as a boy. These are not–

“What do you think these things are?!” you shout, ripping the paper from him once more, the bottom tearing from his grasp. As if the act of writing him a love letter wasn’t embarrassing enough, now he was criticizing your abilities and questioning your motives. You read verbatim, albeit with a harshness that was absent in your original message, 

“Your eyes are resilient. Pretty and worth the gems they resemble. Your nose is an architecture of greatness that makes me tremble. Your uneven bite is mere more than ornamental. Your body’s holy like a temple.

I fucking love you, you stupid man!”

You ad libbed the last part, carding a hand through your hair in abject frustration. You’re not the type to be quick to anger, but Silco’s belligerent persistence that the very thing you poured your heart into was not made from love seems to be wearing away at your usual amiable mien.

“Fine,” he concedes softly, “it’s a love letter,” His eyes are still wide and his hand curled up to his stomach. From his position it looks as if he would have stepped back if he could. It’s his turn to card a hand through his hair, regaining a bit of composure he might have lost in the exchange.  “but, you're a novice wordsmith.”

You smile, it’s thin and tepid but it’s on your face because at this point you really don’t know how to proceed. Your vulnerability met with lukewarm condemnation. You smile, because if you don’t, you know you will surely start to cry. “If that’s all…”

“For now.” he plucks the paper from your hands, folding it in neat creases before motioning you to leave. You don’t dally, practically sprinting to the door. “I’ll send you an example of a true love letter by the weekend.”

With your hand on the doorknob, you spin around, “What?”

“I would send it sooner but postponing it a day for Valentines seems appropriate.” He quirks a smile, satisfied by your stupefied expression ( who’s stupid now ) and waves you out. You take the hint and with it your leave. From your peripheral you see him place your folded letter in the breast pocket of his vest, positioned directly over his heart.

[badgirlcovenrep]

The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)

Chapter One

(NOTES: the raylla adopts Tiffany fic everyone's been asking for

this is going on AO3 once I get home from my sister's but I wanted to post here first. If you'd rather read it there follow me and I'll post once it's officially in there.

Obs: Tiffany is six in this. Mostly because I wanted to write our witch moms carrying their baby and canonically she's like ten so..... and she's also like severely traumatized. We'll get to the healing soon enough though.

+ Edwin is the best papa. And Scylla has p much already adopted this kid, she just doesn't know it yet.

It's half past six p.m when their train screeches to a halt at the Chippewa station. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, Scylla hadn't realized Yule was well on it's way. It is still mid November, but the station has been prematurely decked in civilian Christmas decorations, and almost every wall and corner twinkles in golden speckles and fake pine.

Tiffany had been dozing in and out of sleep on the bench next to her, holding tight to her stuffed parrot as well as Scylla's coat sleeve with her restless small hands that spasmed in pure energy even as she slept. Since coming back from Nicte's mission, Scylla had been in a frenzy to get everything ready for their trip, and Tiffany had followed her around the (no longer safe) safe house, clinging on to her attention with wide blue eyes. She'd always liked kids. Before everything happened Scylla even used to babysit for dodger families.

It was never a lot of money, but she appreciated the levity and humor kids carried. They had hope Scylla prayed she could one day get back. Hope that could only come from the fleeting innocence of childhood. But even then, Tiffany was special, she still had all those wonderful, bright things, and she carried them in bulk, spilling out of her tiny little hands for anyone to see.

Yet she was also touched by things so horrible Scylla sometimes shuddered awake in the dead of night, when her mind conjured up terrible nightmares of being in her place. Of being squeezed into a tiny cage, fed dog food, strung up on a stage as masked psychopaths snickered and passed around stones bigger than fists. It showed, sometimes, in how every once in a while her expression became somber and reserved. How she stopped mid-sentence, and Scylla could see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.

It reminded her of Raelle - Raelle, who'd sat in her bed just yesterday and snacked on the stupid expensive popcorn her mother had bought - Raelle, who also carried so much darkness behind her strong, steady demeanor - those were the parts of her Scylla couldn't help but want to protect, and as a result, those feelings also extended to Tiffany. Scylla lost a lot of people in her life, and she'd decided the day she found the child's parents that she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Just like she wished someone might have done for her. Because that sort of hidden, desolate pain could just as well transform itself into something entirely awful if exploited the right way.

People around her start getting up from their seats, reaching to the compartments for their luggage, there aren't many of them making their way up North this time of year but they still fill the cart in humming conversations, deciding on what to do next or where to get dinner. Scylla takes this as her cue to skim her fingers through Tiffany's hair, gently nudging her awake, "Hey, T, wake up, we're here."

The little girl sits up, bleary eyed, and yawns, looking around at the commotion, "it's already Christmas?" She asks, catching a glimpse of the boisterous decorations set up outside.

"Not yet, no." Scylla chuckles, getting up from her seat to retrieve their own bags - they had everything the two could think to bring, and yet were still not much. A duffel bag for Scylla and purple backpack for Tiffany, with unicorn stickers and colorful buttons sewn to the front. Scylla had retrieved it, along with some toys and clothes, from the girl's home, "People just love decorating early."

"Oh." Tiffany quips, as Scylla helps her fit her arms into the straps of her backpack, then takes her hand in a steady grip once they are done, pulling the young girl towards the door to leave the train, "The lights are pretty!" She exclaims happily, blinking in wide eyed wonder.

Outside, November has definitely made itself known, and Scylla is glad they are both warm in their coats as the wind bites her cheeks until they turn a dark blush. She looks around for Edwin, not sure she'll recognize him from the pictures she'd seen Willa scatter around the house, but still willing to try.

For a second, in that moment, she thinks this might not have been a good idea. When Scylla agreed to it, she'd admittedly not been in her full faculties, brain too preoccupied with seeing Raelle again after so long to completely comprehend what she'd been offered.

After everything that happened, she can't help but be a little nervous to meet the father of her ex (?), the same girl she still very much loved. The girl who had run back to her in that dark forest a day before and clung onto her face until all they could breathe was each other.

If she thought too much about it, Scylla could still feel the soft, almost painful impact of her lips as Raelle knocked her off her balance and breathed fire into her chest like molten lava. It'd been so long, she almost forgot the kind of power Raelle had when she kissed. Like she was always on the verge of tasting your very soul. Their whole day back together before was so very delicate and tentative, air fizzling with electricity like the tension of a bow, pulled tight with an arrow ready to shoot.

The time they've been separated her heart was squeezed tight under an elastic band. Whenever she stopped to think, even for a minute, she could feel it taught, so very strained, reaching from the very inside of her ribs. It was there from the very start. The tightness was what propelled her diaphragm into breathing Raelle in that very first night they spent together, even if she knew she shouldn't, and then, it was what kept them orbiting around each other like their very own solar system. Never too far apart. Always wishing to be closer.

When they kissed in the clearing, hairs messy with the wild strumming of the bat just a few feet away, for the first time, she felt like the band released. The invisible string, so very tight, loosening from under her heart to extend around the both of them and wrap them in what Scylla could only describe as exhilarating, shaking relief. The touch of Raelle's cotton gloves, that she never thought she'd feel again - the taste of her lips, like blood and rain droplets and a mouthful of just her.

It left Scylla running on a high since she walked away from Raelle just the day before, in the early hours of the morning.

It's not how she hoped she'd meet Raelle's dad. Deep down, no matter how much she tried not to, Scylla had imagined herself, more than once, coming to the Cession hand in hand with the blonde fixer. In love and together, going home to meet the parents. It's bittersweet to be here with Tiffany instead, and she has to squeeze the young witch's hand slightly to ground herself from the urge to run.

To just take the child's small body in her arms and run- leave the station in lieu of a cheap motel, one with vending machines, where they could hide from the world a little longer.

When the witch looks down, however, Tiffany smiles reassuringly back at her, squeezing her hand slightly in return, and Scylla can't help the wave of affection that washes over her.

"Excuse me? Are you Scylla and Tiffany?" A voice coming from behind wakes them back from the moment, and when they turn, both come face to face with Edwin Collar.

Scylla's sure it's him. If not because he does still look quite a lot like the pictures she's seen, then because the necromancer can definitely see the telltale signs of Raelle written all over his face. It's mostly there in the kind drop of his eyelids, and the way his mouth creates tiny wrinkles of soft skin when he smiles, but it's there, nonetheless.

"Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mr. Collar." Scylla greets, settling down her bag to shake his hand.

"Of course, it's amazing to finally meet you. Raelle talked you up a storm," he declares, chuckling proudly, "only good things, I assure."

"Oh, I'm sure I don't deserve that." She let's out, hoping it sounded more playful than it feels for her.

"Nonsense. You seem like a kind girl." The man decides, with a solemn nod, before turning to Tiffany, "and you- Tiffany, I'm very happy to have you with me this week as well, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together."

"Thank you, Mr. Collar." The small blonde replies, half-hiding herself behind Scylla's pant leg.

"Let's go then. It's getting cold." Edwin finally declares, taking Scylla's bag from the floor without a question. The girl goes to complain, but he cuts her off before she can - "and don't fight me on this. Raelle also never let's me carry her bags, for once I'd love to help."

Scylla still wants to protest. Mostly because she feels that they have already asked so much - and she doesn't quite deserve the kindness - but he seems sincere, so she nods instead, and with the affirmative, all three begin their way to the parking lot.

"Is Raelle your friend?" Tiffany asks innocently, skipping happily over her boots.

"Uh- she- yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Well, you said we were going to a friend's dad's house." Tiffany notes. "Where is Raelle then?"

"About that-" Edwin stops in his step, "did you see her? How is she?" He asks, an uneasy tension settling over his demeanor as he studies Scylla for answers, "they told me she was alive but that was it-"

"She's okay. I saw her yesterday, she was well." The brunette assures, and that seems to send a wave of relief over the man, who breathes deeply before continuing their walk along the various cars.

"Oh, thank goodness." He sighs, "when those people took her I thought- I'm so glad she's okay."

"Yeah. We were all worried." Scylla declares. And this, she can relate to. The way he cares so much for Raelle, it spills into the very movement of his expressions. It's familiar, and it warms her heart. She decides right then that she likes Edwin.

"Did the bad people take Raelle too?" Tiffany questions, frowning in scared surprise as they reach Edwin's old truck.

Scylla sighs, not having revealed much of the mission she'd gone on the day before. She knew it'd be scary for her. Tiffany was still very much traumatized, and rightfully so, after everything she'd been through. But Tiffany was also very smart- and observant. She'd catch up eventually and Scylla feels stupid for not dealing with this before coming.

"Yeah. They tried to hurt her, but me and her other friends didn't let them." The necromancer assures, as she helps the girl into the backseat and clicks in her seatbelt, "she's okay now. We're all safe here."

"Oh- Okay." Tiffany nods, but Scylla can see the doubt shining under her eyes.

Scylla wishes she knew what to say, but words fail her, so she squeezes the girl's hand reassuringly once more, winking in what she hopes is humorous solidarity, before closing the door.

***

Raelle's house is just like she imagines- small, rustic - surrounded by a thick canopy of trees and bushes. It reminds her of the places she used to stay with her parents, scattered over random cities all over the U.S. Scylla likes it.

"It isn't much, but we always have warm dinner and pancakes in the morning." Edwin quips, humbly, as he leads the pair of witches to Raelle's room, "you can stay here. Hope it is comfortable."

"This is more than enough, Edwin." Scylla smiles gratefully, "it's too much, really. Thank you for letting us stay."

"Nonsense." He waves his hand with a half embarrassed chuckle, "It's good to have people here again. After Rae and Tally left everything feels a lot quieter." Scylla nods in agreement, as the man turns to leave the room, the two witches inside watching him carefully, "You guys should change and rest a bit- I'll call you for dinner.

Scylla thanks him, and waits until the door clicks behind his back to turn her attention to the luggage that had been settled over a random chair. The room is filled with so much Raelle, she can't help but notice the letters, pictures, memories and song lyrics, glued to every single wall, from a time before Fort Salem, before them.

The blonde used to leave notes on her dorm walls back at Fort Salem. Lots of silly things like "I'll be back after training" or "You fight people in your sleep. It's cute.". Scylla wonders if they are still there or if they've been taken by the army when she was captured. It doesn't matter anymore, the necro realizes, and she shakes her head in an effort to bring her attention back to the room.

"You should put on some pajamas." Scylla says toward Tiffany, who sat, grievously quiet, at Raelle's bed.

She looked thoughtful, in a way regular six year olds don't quite show unless they have to go through way too much. Her small, bright eyes hide barely concealed darkness as she shifts her looks everywhere but at the older witch.

Scylla sighs, finding this place - this relationship - so very painfully familiar. She'd been the scared little girl last time, feeling so very small and alone. And now, as the adult, she was definitely going to try her best not to fuck it. As difficult as it might be. The world didn't need another suffering witch.

After a few minutes of silence, Scylla realizes she was not going to get an answer, so she opens the girl's backpack and fishes out a pair of mermaid themed leggings and t-shirt, along with the small bag that carried her tooth and hair brushes along with some other toiletries. Scylla places the items by Tiffany on the mattress, kneeling in front of the young witch and studying her clear, soft little face.

"Hey. Are you feeling alright?"

"Are the bad men coming here to hurt us?" Tiffany asks, instead of a response, and Scylla frowns in worry.

"No, of course no-"

"They came and took Raelle too." Tiffany notices, tears escaping from her eyelids that Scylla dries up with her thumb, "and they hurt Miss Willa, the other kids' at the office and my mommy and daddy. What if they come here again? What if they really hurt us this time?" As the questions stumble out of her mouth, sobs begin to wreck across her throat until she's shaking, ever so slightly, with the force of her tears and heavy, panicked breathing.

Scylla sighs and rises from the ground to cuddle the girl close to her chest, squeezing tight until she can feel Tiffany's little arms squeeze her back. Scylla's afraid too - most of the time, if she allowed herself to be honest - Ever since watching Raelle leave her in that cell the year before, the girl could feel even more perfectly the path of death and destruction that marked their (the witches') way through the world.

One of the bad things about being a necro - Death didn't like not being known, and it showed itself insistently, to anyone able to notice.

"We don't know whether or not they'll come again." Scylla ends up responding, sincerely, as she squeezes her arms even tighter around the little girl, "but I won't let them hurt you, you hear me? I dealt with them before, I can deal with them again."

"No" Tiffany shakes her head, frowning up at her in teary-eyed fear, "You too. You're safe too. I don't want you to get hurt either."

"Hey." Scylla forces out a chuckle, trying to lighten up the situation for the young witch's sake, "don't be silly, ok? I'm pretty much invincible."

Tiffany doesn't laugh, her breathing having somewhat returned to normal. The girl just stares back at Scylla with a seriousness that's all too unfair, coming from a six year old, and she reaches out, her pinky finger lifted in expectation, "Pinky promise you'll be safe too? Please?"

Scylla knows she shouldn't. The truth is, she doesn't know what will happen. After their plan to capture Nicte was said and done, Scylla barely had any idea what she would be doing now. But Tiffany obviously needs the reassurance, from the way she stares ever so desperately at the necro's face.

"Okay, I pinky promise." Scylla smiles, trying to convey some calm toward the other girl as she let her pinky link with the smaller one. It seems to work, as Tiffany's expression softens and her tense posture falls, "now let's get you under a shower and into some pajamas, ok? You're a very smelly little witch right now."

"Am not!" Tiffany replies, and Scylla can't help but full on laugh this time, pulling the small girl to Raelle's bathroom as she mockingly protests.

Second chapter is almost done, just needs to be read over for mistakes. For C2, Raelle calls home, Scylla meets old dodger friends and she also has an important conversation with Edwin.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

[cc-tinslebee]

Okay, so, about a month ago, my brain just conjured up probably the most random au possible: Legally Blonde Adam Banks/banksway au.

Believe me, it's as chaotic as it sounds, but lowkey, I'm kind of in love with it.

Adam never joins the Ducks because there aren't any Ducks to join. Bombay never had to do community service with District Five so there was no one to realise that Adam was on the wrong team all along. He continues to play for the Hawks and, eventually, the Eden Hall Warriors, never getting the chance to become the well-rounded individual we know him as because he's never known anything other than his rich privilege and the "win at all costs" mentality. He ends up going to college on a hockey scholarship and not straight to the NHL or the AHL (shocking, I know). While he's unsure of his major and where his life is heading, he finds solace in the fraternity he joins, which, by some sheer twist of fate, Jesse and Guy have also miraculously joined.

And his life is perfect for a while. He's the star player on yet another school's hockey team, all of his fraternity brothers adore him (though, it took a bit for Jesse to warm up to him), and his secret, not-really-official thing with his former teammate is going swimmingly. (Not to slander my boy, but I was picturing Larson for the role of Warner, purely because the alternative seems to be Rick Riley and that's kind of an unsettling image-- though, maybe that's the point?)

But then his secret boyfriend breaks up with him because, with his high aspirations in life, he needs to be "more serious." And dating Adam Banks, a guy in a stereotypical fraternity who only really knows hockey, in 2001 isn't exactly the white-picket-fence life he's looking for if he's going to be a politician.

And since this non-Duck Adam clearly doesn't have the braincells that canon Adam does, in his devastation, he decides it's a brilliant idea to prove that he is serious by applying to Harvard Law. His parents try to talk him out of it, since they want him to pursue his dreams of hockey, but being a lawyer is a respectable career so they can't exactly argue with him.

He gets accepted thanks to Jesse, Guy, and the rest of his fraternity helping him study for the LSAT and keeping him on track. He's trying his darndest when he gets to Harvard, but (despite his struggle not being as significant as Elle Woods'), not a lot of people take him seriously as an aspiring lawyer, considering him a meathead jock who only got in because of daddy's money.

And that's about the time he meets Linda, who he vaguely remembers from his time at Eden Hall. What he doesn't remember is her being so competitive, because she's deliberately beating him at every turn, just trying (and kind of succeeding) at making him look like a fool. To make matters worse, all of the sudden, she's engaged to his ex-boyfriend, who is very adamant about never telling anyone that he and Adam were more than friends (because, you know, early 2000s homophobia and such).

But things get a little brighter for Adam when he meets Charlie, an undergrad teacher's assistant who gives him all sorts of advice about surviving the school. He introduces him to Professor Bombay, who Charlie claims is the only reason he survived his first year and quickly becomes Adam's favourite teacher, and Charlie's childhood friend Connie, who aspires to be a state senator one day. Charlie's charismatic and even if he's not the most well-liked person at Harvard, Adam feels a weight lifted off his shoulders once he becomes friends with him and Connie. Things become a little easier.

Just before he and Charlie start getting really close, Adam meets Casey at a local diner on a day he's feeling particularly upset and alone, and the two start bonding almost immediately. (He bullshits his way into scaring an ex-husband of hers with legal repercussions he has no idea about and she basically adopts him in return.) It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realise that it's not just a coincidence that Casey and Charlie share the same last name, which results in poor Adam feeling extremely embarrassed for not connecting the dots sooner while Charlie's having the time of his life teasing him for it. Eventually, when the dust of that settles, Charlie and Adam join forces to set Casey and Bombay up, their schemes borderline ridiculous at times, but they'rere not exactly failing.

And after realising he isn't the Warriors moron she thought he was for going on five years, Linda starts warming up to Adam, which is surprisingly nice? She figures out on her own that there used to be something between him and her fiancé, and is more understanding of Adam than she is mad. Linda actually spills to him the lengths Adam's ex had to go through to actually get into Harvard, aligning more with the rumours about Adam's acceptance being bought than having the aptitude for the law that Linda and Adam share. (This may be me saying Linda and Adam friendship rights, what of it-- /lh)

To make things all the better, Bombay chooses Adam, Linda, Connie, Charlie, and Adam's ex to be on his legal team for a murder case he's responsible for (and while he knows about Adam and Charlie's ploys to hook him up with Charlie's mom, they're his favourites, so he doesn't say anything).

And this is just so much better than anything he had before. After all the initial unpleasantness, Linda and Connie become some of the most genuine friends he's ever had. He misses Guy and Jesse, of course, and he'd never take them for granted, but back when he was with them at the fraternity, a part of him was still being as superficial as he had been in middle and high school. Being authentic for once in his life is liberating.

And Charlie's just about the most considerate person Adam's ever met. Adam doesn't even mind when Charlie teases him over his absurd and juvenile insults because he's just this source of light for Adam, supporting him and always pushing him to be the best version of himself. His ex hardly even exists when Charlie's around because his energy is just so contagious that Adam starts falling for him long before he even realises it. (And when Jesse and Guy come to visit, there's a moment where it all clicks and the four of them realise their history together, however brief. I strongly maintain that they'd be that Starkid meme: "Fucking Hawks? We hated you guys!" "We hated ourselves!" But it does make Adam realise how much better off he would've been if he had Charlie and his team when he was little instead of the Hawks, and it just further makes him understand that people like Larson and Rick Riley just aren't worth it.)

But there's also another revelation Adam goes through. Between helping Casey, his rigorous studies, and his position working with/for Bombay, something just clicks for Adam. He likes being able to help people, fighting for the good guys who may not have the resources they need to be properly defended. Practicing law calls to him in the same way hockey did; it's the feeling of knowing this is what he's meant to do. He still loves hockey, he always will, but it helps him finally grasp that there's a world for him outside of it; when hockey ends for him, there's something equally as rewarding that he can pursue, which was something he never thought he would have.

I haven't a single coherent thought about this au past that point except for these little inklings of an ending--

There's absolutely no SA scene like the movie had; Bombay's just Adam and Charlie's favourite teacher and those are his boys, so he's going to make sure they succeed as if his life depends on it.

With that said, Bombay believes in them both enough to let them finish the case because with their joined determination/stubbornness (and Adam's in with the defendant), Adam and Charlie are a force to be reckoned with and he knows it.

After a handful of comedic failures, they do end up succeeding at their attempts to set Casey and Bombay up, and they start living together sometime during the kids' Junior year :) (All I'm asking is for one (1) story with a Casey/Gordon endgame-- I just think they're neat--)

Linda dumps her fiancé (as she should) and goes on to live her best wlw life as a successful lawyer. (If I'm not mistaken, Linda's actress actually is a lawyer, which is a pretty cool fun fact!!)

Adam and Linda's ex gets the Warner ending because, man, screw that guy /lh (rip to Larson if this is him, I'm sure you'll get a nice endgame in some other universe, king)

Honorary mention for Connie, who was going long distance with Guy this entire time to everyone but Jesse's shock, and they get their Game Changers endgame of State Senator Connie Moreau and stay-at-home dad Guy Germaine with their seven -- sorry, three -- children :)

Adam's an absolute bundle of nerves after graduation, which definitely concerns Charlie. So, when he asks if he's okay, Adam starts nervously monologuing about their time together until he runs out of breath. He ends it by proposing to him, and Charlie smiles so surely at him when he says yes. They both become damn good public defenders and stay engaged until the point they can legally get married, but they're practically husbands long before that happens.

Also, if I did my math right (which I should’ve, it’s my entire basis for my Share Your Address series), the Ducks’ would have the same graduating class year as Elle Woods anyway (2004), which is pretty neat!

Thank you once again for listening to me ramble :)

[rafael-silva]

guide me back (I’m lost without your light): a tarlos fic

“All available units respond to a 10-50 at the intersection of Sixth and North Lamar Boulevard. Multiple vehicle pile up.” “Dispatch, this is 363-H-20 responding. ETA three minutes.”

*

When Carlos and Mitchell respond to the call, the last thing Carlos expects is to find TK in the middle of the wreck. He races against time to keep TK awake and stable until fire and medical arrive, while sending out prayer after prayer that his time with TK hasn’t been cut short. That they haven’t run out of time.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + bloodstained clothes 

hurt tk strand, worried carlos reyes, established relationship, whump, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, kisses, blood, injury description, major character injury, angst with a happy ending

10.1k | on ao3

*****

“All available units respond to a 10-50 at the intersection of Sixth and North Lamar Boulevard. Multiple vehicle pile up.”

“Dispatch, this is 363-H-20 responding. ETA three minutes.”

The sun sits high in the sky as Carlos grips the steering wheel tightly while Mitchell releases her radio and flicks on the light bar and siren, blaring loudly as they head into the heart of downtown Austin.

It sounded serious, if all available units are being dispatched to the scene, meaning fire engines are being dispatched, too. Carlos fleetly wonders if the 126 will be called to the scene, but he knows he won’t be seeing TK since it’s the paramedic’s day off.

It’s difficult when one of them is working and the other is off; at least if they were both working, there are always chances of them meeting on calls, and if they were both off, well, those days were spent in utter happiness together, either spent in or out, it didn’t matter as long as they were spent together. They make it work, however, spending as much time together before one of them goes to work and then at night, cuddling on the couch or in bed, safe in each other’s arms after a long day.

Carlos hopes the accident isn’t as grave as he’s imagining but his gut is telling him otherwise. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realizes there’s a big possibility he might be late for the home dinner date he and TK had planned. TK had said he had a surprise for Carlos, and was clearly super excited about it. Carlos was looking forward to it and now…

Carlos’s gut is proven right when they round the corner and he catches sight of the crash from a few blocks away. Dread sets in his stomach the closer they get to the scene, other police cruisers pulling up at the same time.

He might need to tell TK that his shift may run long. He holds back at that, though, first wanting to get a full feel of how the rest of his shift will pan out.

Carlos parks and shares a concerned look with his partner before drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. They hop out of the car and Carlos takes a quick survey of their surroundings, noticing that they had arrived at the scene before fire and medical.

Carlos starts moving towards where the accident is the worst, and well, it’s bad. Four cars seem to have harshly rear ended each other, the crushed metal an indication of how sudden and quick it had happened. He can’t really tell one car from the other, all of them mangled together in a way that tells Carlos there are definitely more than a few injuries sustained to the people who were in these cars.

He doesn’t have much time to draw any more conclusions because he’s frantically being flagged down by a man around his own age, who seems unharmed. Bystander, Carlos’s mind supplies.

Carlos jogs over as the man takes a few steps towards him and starts speaking.

“He’s stuck,” the man starts, leading Carlos to one of the cars, or what’s left of one, in the middle of the wreck. “The door on one side popped open from the force of the crash but the guy inside can’t move. And we didn’t want to move him. He’s on the opposite side of the backseat and he’s in rough shape, seems to be going in and out of consciousness.”

Carlos swallows and follows him, whoever this man is, Carlos is going to do everything he can to help him until fire and medical arrive.

“It’s good you didn’t move him, that might have caused more damage,” Carlos tells him, his legs moving quickly.

The closer he gets, the more Carlos is hit with a sense of familiarity towards the injured man. He frowns, his heart starting to race in his chest as he zeroes in on the figure slumped in the backseat.

And that side profile, Carlos can draw it with his eyes closed.

He freezes when the realization dawns on him. His legs stop moving, his feet nailed to the asphalt. It feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest while his eyes go impossibly wide.

TK.

And no, no, no. It can’t be TK. He was just texting him less than twenty minutes ago. He’s worried his brain is playing a cruel trick on him, conjuring up this nightmare. Carlos shakes his head, earning himself a confused look from the man leading him, who has also stopped moving.

But Carlos doesn’t spare him a glance, his attention solely held by the man in the crushed car. And when said man weakly opens his eyes and they catch some light, Carlos knows beyond a doubt that this nightmare is in fact reality.

Those green eyes, even seeing them from the side and through an awkward angle, can only belong to the love of his life.

“No,” Carlos whispers as his heart plummets into his knees, his body heating up. “No, no,” he repeats and then his feet are finally moving again, and he’s running around another car, his eyes not leaving TK.

He briefly registers the man’s growing confusion but he just rushes past him, no time for explanation, the only thing mattering to him is getting to TK. Saving TK.

He only slows down when he’s right by TK’s side, with only the smashed door separating them. The window is shattered, the ground littered with broken pieces of glass that crunch underneath Carlos’s boots.

TK’s eyes have closed again, but Carlos can see his chest slowly rising and falling with each shallow breath he sucks in.

“TK?” Carlos speaks, the rest of the accident fading away. The movement around is in slow motion, sounds muted, the world narrowing to just him and TK. “TK, can you hear me?”

Carlos can’t even hear his own voice over the blood rushing in his ears, but by the way TK tilts his head an inch towards him, he heard him.

A beat. And then: “‘Los…”

Carlos lets out a breath he wasn’t fully aware he was holding, his shoulders sagging forward a little. “Hey, babe. I’m here, I’m here.”

Carlos runs his eyes over TK, and his heart breaks a little more at the bloody state the paramedic is in.

“I’m stuck,” TK wheezes. “Can’t move.”

“We’ll get you out, just hang on. Help is on the way,” Carlos replies, hoping his voice is steadier than it sounds to his own ears. He then turns his attention to the older man in the front seat. “Sir, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the man nods. “I’m fine, nothing hurts too bad. The hit was harder from the back.”

Carlos’s fear increases at that piece of information. “You let me know if your pain changes,” he tells him before his attention is back on TK. “TK, can you tell me what hurts?”

“Head, chest…and side,” TK replies through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes as a wave of pain shocks his nerves, running through his battered body. Everything feels like it’s on fire, every breath he tries to draw in hurts, and he’s tired, he’s so tired.

But he isn’t alone anymore, Carlos is here now. TK is aware that his odds aren’t good, based on his years of work experience, but he finds himself not panicking at that thought as much anymore. Because Carlos is right here. He would even go as far as saying he feels a little calm now, but what he can’t answer is whether that is due to shock or Carlos’s presence. TK decides to believe it’s courtesy of the latter. Because shock would be very bad.

He isn’t aware his eyes have drifted shut until the officer’s voice filters through, telling him to open them and TK manages to peel his eyelids open and faces Carlos’s worried gaze.

“Stay with me,” Carlos pleads, those brown eyes that TK loves so much filled to the brim with terror. “Don’t close your eyes, look at me. Focus on me.”

TK obliges. He loves looking at Carlos, loves running his hands over his face, his cheekbones, feeling Carlos smile against his touch. TK wants to reach out, to smooth out the worry engraved on Carlos’s forehead, in the creases that sit above his eyebrows, but he can’t move a muscle. He wants to reassure Carlos that he’s okay, but not only does he momentarily lose his voice, he also doesn’t know how true his statement would be. Because he’s now suddenly very much aware of the amount of blood running down his side, sticky and hot. The side glued to the crushed door.

He groans, feeling the panic start to rise again. Being stuck was already bad enough, but being stuck while also bleeding is far worse that TK doesn’t even want to think about it.

“Hey, hey,” Carlos’s voice returns. “Focus on me, it’s okay. I know it’s scary, but I’m right here.”

“Carlos,” TK cries out, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Carlos, very carefully, reaches his arm through the busted window, and with just as much caution, cups TK’s face and wipes the stray tear with the pad of his thumb. He’s aware of everything all at once, the way his hand shook as he moved it towards TK, how clammy TK’s skin feels, the beads of sweat rolling down his own neck and back.

“I’m right here.”

TK sniffs and nods as he leans into Carlos’s touch. It’s warm, and TK gravitates towards that warmth. The warmth that has become his home.

Carlos begins cataloging TK’s injuries: a cut near his temple that looks deep enough to need stitches, possible concussion, chest pain can be a result of the seatbelt tightening when the crash happened, but he can’t assess how badly TK’s side is hurt from his current position.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that, though, because TK is speaking a few moments later.

“My side…it’s bleeding…” TK murmurs once he’s gathered his voice, his mind suppling that he needs to tell Carlos. “I think it’s bad.”

The small amount of color remaining in Carlos’s face drains at TK’s words, his heart dropping further and it feels like he’s been drenched with a bucket of ice water. His mind freezes for a second before he’s shaking himself out of it. He needs to act, and quick.

“Can you reach it and apply pressure?” Carlos asks. “Easy though, slow movements.”

TK attempts to move his arm towards the injury but quickly grimaces and drops his arm.

“No,” TK’s voice shakes, the slight movement exhausting him further. “Hurts.”

“Shit,” Carlos’s own panic starts taking hold, evident in the way his hands start to shake again. They have to slow the bleeding if TK has any chance of making it out of this nightmare.

Then Carlos remembers that the other door is practically already ripped off the car. Making up his mind, he gives TK’s hand a squeeze and rushes to the other side of the car.

“Hang on, TK, I’m coming,” Carlos says as he quickly assesses the area where the door was once attached to the car.

It looks stable enough and the car isn’t tilted to either side or unbalanced, so Carlos carefully climbs in and pauses to see if his added weight caused any shift. Once there’s no evidence of that, he moves closer to TK, their thighs side by side.

Carlos reaches around TK with his left arm, eyes glued to his middle and surely enough, TK’s t-shirt is stained with blood. The officer has to swallow against his dry throat at the sight, there’s so much blood already and TK is looking paler by the second.

Carlos’s hand finds its target, and his fingers brush against the tip of the metal lodged into TK’s side. He feels sick to his stomach as he begins to apply as much pressure as he could without causing further damage or sinking the metal deeper into TK’s flesh.

TK whines at the pain jolting through his body, waking him up a little as he squeezing his eyes shut, more tears run freely down his face.

“I know, I know,” Carlos speaks, his tone apologetic.

TK’s eyes start to droop, the momentary adrenaline already wearing off and his head falls backwards against the headrest.

“No, no, TK,” Carlos eyes go wide, his voice strained. “Keep your eyes open, stay with me.”

“Carlos…” TK whispers.

“Right beside you, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re his fiancé,” the older man’s voice reaches Carlos’s ears from the front seat.

Carlos turns to face him with a questioning look, his eyes drawing together at the statement.

“He was,” the driver pauses to breathe. “He was talking about you before the crash.”

Carlos sucks in a deep breath through his nose, nodding as his eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. “Yeah,” he turns back to look at TK. “He’s the love of my life.”

TK is still clinging to consciousness and Carlos receives a small smile from him at his declaration.

“That’s it, baby. Stay with me,” Carlos pleads once more, closing his eyes and gently resting his forehead against TK’s uninjured temple, melting into him.

He keeps a steady hold on TK’s side, and senses TK weakly gravitating towards him even more, Carlos his lifeline. TK uses all his remaining energy to reach out into the small distance and latches his hand onto Carlos’s arm, wrapping his fingers there.

“I got you, Ty, I got you.”

A few moments later, the air around them fills with the roaring of sirens, getting closer and closer.

“Hear that, TK? Help is here,” Carlos says, instilling hope with every word.

He turns his head in the direction of the incoming fire trucks and ambulances, watching as red and blue color everything around. His eyes immediately find the bold 126 painted on the truck that comes to a halt on the edge of the crash site.

“Hey!” Carlos calls out for the young man who lead him here. “Direct them this way!” He nudges his head towards the team who are disembarking from the truck.

The man nods and starts running towards the firefighters.

“Hang on, TK, hang on,” Carlos whispers.

He looks back into the open and relaxes just a fraction when he spots Judd on the man’s heels, jogging towards him.

Carlos can pinpoint the moment Judd realizes who he’s moving towards, the firefighter’s eyebrow raising a little.

“Reyes?” Judd calls out before he’s reached the car.

“Judd, it’s TK,” Carlos wastes no time in responding.

Those three words have Judd’s eyes going wide, his speed picking up and he runs the remaining distance to the car, coming to a stop on the side TK’s jammed.

“He’s stuck and bleeding badly,” Carlos continues, looking past TK and at Judd through the broken window.

“Shit,” Judd mutters and then louder, in the direction of the rig: “Tommy! Nancy!”

Judd’s eyes roam over TK’s ashen face, the younger man’s eyes barely opened.

“Hey, brother,” Judd speaks, his voice carrying its natural strength but also soft and filled with concern. “You’re gonna be alright, just hang on.”

He gets a half-nod from TK in reply.

Tommy and Nancy approach the car, each of them clutching their equipment and medical bags, ready to get to work.

“It’s TK,” Judd tells them when they’re by his side. They both pause midair as they’re lowering the bags, their eyes going equally wide as they process Judd’s words.

Carlos can see the worry flash over their faces and they share a quick look of concern before they both switch back into paramedic mode. He knows what they’re thinking, that they have to be at the top of their game. TK is family, and he can feel their fear and pain, but they need to focus so they can save TK.

They both meet Carlos’s worried eyes before getting to work.

“Hey, TK,” Tommy gets closer to the crushed door, gloves on and clicks her pen light. Her voice is calm and gentle, her motherly tone helps even Carlos relax a little.

“Cap…” TK whispers.

“Follow the light, TK.”

She shines the pen into TK’s glassy eyes, his pupils responding to the light as they should, albeit a little weaker than she’d like.

“Talk to me, Carlos,” Tommy says while her attention is solely focused on TK. “Tell me everything.”

“He said his head, chest and side hurt, his side is bleeding badly. I have pressure on it and I can feel a piece of metal stuck in there,” he swallows, feeling the blood seeping through his fingers. “The bleeding slowed down a little but he’s already lost so much blood.”

Tommy nods, accepting the c-collar from Nancy and carefully placing it around TK’s neck to stabilize him.

Judd looks up when he hears the rest of the crew approaching, and after a brief glance with Carlos, Judd moves in their direction, seeking out Owen.

“Cap,” Judd shields Owen’s view of the wrecked car.

Owen frowns, but immediately sees through Judd’s worried eyes. “What is it?”

Judd takes a deep breath. He has always been a straightforward guy, he won’t start beating around the bush now. “It’s TK, he’s in that car.”

Carlos’s heart breaks even more at the gasp he hears from Owen, followed by rapid footsteps pounding the gravel as the captain rushes over.

He’s at the car from Carlos’s side and looking past his shoulder a few moments later, Owen’s eyes blown wide as they move from his son to his soon to be son-in-law.

“Carlos.”

“His side is bleeding,” Carlos tells Owen, more tears gathering in his eyes. “He couldn’t reach it to apply pressure and I had to do something.”

Owen nods, his eyes going back to TK, who’s barely moving. “It’s gonna be okay, son. You’re gonna be okay. We’re here.”

TK slowly opens his eyes the rest of the way and looks in Owen’s direction through his blurry vision. He tries to send a wordless message to his father and fiancé of I’m okay.

Owen gives him a smile, but it’s shakier than he intended.

“Here,” Tommy’s voice grabs their attention. She hands Carlos a large piece of gauze as Nancy moves to the front to check the driver.

Carlos begins to move, and TK instantly whimpers and tries to keep his already weak hold on the other man.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, TK,” Carlos is quick to reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He maneuvers his free arm to take the piece of cotton and swiftly lifts his bloodied palm to cover TK’s wound with the gauze and returns the pressure there.

The team has gathered what was happening and crowd the car, Carlos is vaguely aware of Judd telling them they’ve got TK and they should go around the rest of the scene to help.

And then Judd is back, evaluating the situation and weighing their options.

“His breathing is getting worse,” Carlos announces with fright as TK’s hold on him starts to falter. “We need to get him out now.”

“The driver is doing okay, Cap,” Nancy chimes in. “Alert and his numbers are holding.”

Tommy nods. “We get TK out first. Carlos, is the metal connected to the door or is it separated?”

Carlos shakes his head. “Separated.”

“That’s good, makes busting the door open easier,” Judd nods.

“Judd, grab the—” Owen begins.

“Jaws, got them,” Judd finishes for Owen before running in the direction of their truck.

He returns less than a minute later, but it feels like forever for Carlos and Owen as they watch TK struggle to hold on.

“Come on, come on,” Owen whispers, his eyes not leaving his son’s battered form as Judd returns, pushes the piece of equipment into the mangled metal and starts to tear it apart.

Tommy and Nancy get the backboard ready in the meantime, ready to move as soon as it’s clear. A lot of movement erupts when the door is finally ripped open. Judd lowers the jaws to the ground, quickly reaching for the cutters he had also retrieved and cuts the seatbelt off TK. It takes Carlos’s brain a second to catch up with all the action and then his eyes land on Owen now standing on the other side behind Judd as both men make room for Tommy and Nancy.

They carefully place the tip of the backboard against the backseat cushion and Nancy and Judd carefully take hold of TK’s shoulders, moving him sideways and then guiding him to lie on the board. Carlos goes with them, the pressure he’s applying constant and he only lets go once he’s certain Nancy’s taking over, her hand firmly covering his.

He pulls back and watches as Judd and Owen carry TK over to the gurney. He wastes no time in getting out of the car himself, darting to TK’s side.

Once TK is out, Judd starts working on extracting the driver.

Tommy and Nancy work in unison, the Paramedic Captain covering TK’s face with an oxygen mask while Nancy inserts an IV in his arm and runs a line. Carlos then notices that Owen is applying pressure to TK’s side with one hand while the other runs through TK’s hair.

Carlos takes TK’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Let’s move,” Tommy instructs a moment later.

Nancy takes over holding pressure as they push the gurney towards the ambulance, Carlos and Owen trailing behind.

“Carlos?”

Carlos turns at his partner’s voice, coming from a few feet away.

Mitchell is about to ask where he’s been but her eyes go wide instead when they land on TK lying on the gurney.

“I have to—”

She’s nodding before Carlos finishes his sentence. “Go, I’ll sort it out.”

“Thank you,” Carlos gives her the best grateful smile he could muster before hopping in after TK and Tommy.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Owen says once TK is inside the rig.

Carlos nods, taking a seat on the small bench.

Nancy shuts the doors and races to the driver’s seat, climbing in and the sirens wail as they start to move.

Owen watches the ambulance drive away, the hot pit in his stomach growing with each passing second.

Carlos and Tommy don’t exchange words, each of them focusing on TK. Tommy is monitoring his vitals, giving him fluids and administering a local nerve blocker to help with the pain.

Carlos clutches TK’s free hand with both of his own, closing his eyes and willing his racing heart to slow down a beat. He works on his breathing, steading his rhythm but he can’t help the stray tear that falls when he opens his eyes and looks at TK.

Carlos’s chest is in knots, his heart in pieces, TK is too still, too pale.

It’s almost like TK feels his fiancé’s anguish and pain, and on some level, he does because he’s weakly turning in Carlos’s direction. It’s always been a thing TK and Carlos talk about—the way they sense each other and what the other needs and this moment is yet another one to prove that connection true.

“It’s okay, ‘Los,” TK manages, his voice frail and muffled even more by the oxygen mask.

Carlos sniffs, moving closer to TK so he’s in his line of sight and nods. “Yeah, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I love you,” TK whispers.

“I love you too, baby,” Carlos reciprocates. “Hold on.”

TK nods, a promise Carlos clings onto with everything he’s got. And he prays today isn’t the day he loses TK.

They’ve only just begun.

*****

It’s a short but tense ride to the hospital.

Tommy had examined TK’s chest and Carlos’s assumption that it was the seatbelt that hurt him is proven right by the massive red bruise already formed down the paramedic’s torso. Carlos had drawn in a sharp breath at seeing it, heartbroken that TK has been injured to that extent. Tommy had also told Carlos that TK may have also suffered a bruised lung from the force of the seatbelt against his chest.

A team is already awaiting their arrival, tearing the ambulance doors open as soon as it comes to a halt in front of the Emergency Room entrance. Tommy relays all the information as they push TK inside and through the hallways. They reach a point where Tommy, Carlos and Nancy can’t follow and Carlos has to reluctantly let go of his tight hold on TK’s hand.

His heart shatters as he watches the doctors and nurses wheel TK away, feeling like he’s been ripped away from him.

He stands there for what seems like hours, watching the hallway long after TK was pushed into the elevator, Carlos’s eyes fixed on its closed doors. He feels a hand land on his shoulder, and he doesn’t need to turn to know who it is.

“Come on, Carlos,” Tommy’s soft voice reaches him.

Carlos lets her lead him towards the waiting area and he drops into one of the plastic chairs, hating how familiar they have become.

He shakes his head then drops it slightly and only looks up when a few wet wipes are in his line of sight.

He gratefully accepts them but doesn’t move for a few moments after. His gaze is focused on his own hands, his hands that are covered with TK’s blood. And his ring, his ring is coated in crimson, nearly obscuring the silver underneath and it makes his stomach churn in an unnatural way.

Carlos closes his eyes, going back to the day TK had slid this ring onto his finger, to the joy and contentment they had both felt, they way they basked in each other’s love when Carlos had said yes. A tear rolls down the officer’s cheek, one he doesn’t bother wiping away. He sniffs, opening his eyes and begins cleaning his hands.

Once the evidence of TK’s accident and injury is transferred to the wipes, Nancy takes them from Carlos’s hold and throws them away before sitting down, too.

The silence stretches, the feel and sound of the hospital nearly haunting. Owen’s arrival breaks it, Carlos looking up when he hears his name being called from afar.

“Carlos,” Owen’s eyes are wide and movement quick.

“Owen,” Carlos gets to his feet in time for the Captain to throw his arms around him in a hug, which Carlos returns.

Owen gives Carlos a squeeze before pulling back. “Did they say anything?”

Carlos shakes his head. “They took his straight up, didn’t say much of anything.”

Owen nods and sits on the chair next to Carlos’s as he too returns to it.

Tommy and Nancy’s radios spring to life a little bit later, and they reluctantly leave, promising to be back as soon as they can.

Carlos starts rolling his ringer over his finger, a gesture he does when he’s nervous or anxious. TK would always notice, and he’d reach out, taking Carlos’s hand and holds it tightly; a silent promise that he isn’t alone, and that TK’s got him. Carlos would give anything to feel TK’s tender touch.

He notices that his ring is still speckled with blood.

“I’ll be right back,” Carlos says as he rises from his place. “Just going to the bathroom.”

Owen nods. “Take your time.”

Carlos follows the signs to the nearest bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror as he gets closer to the sinks. The bathroom is empty, his boots echoing in the space, his eyes not leaving his exhausted reflection staring back at him. All the color has been drained from his face, his eyes a stark red against his pale skin and his usually neat curls are out of place. His eyes drift lower until they stop at his waist where there’s a large, dark stain. His uniform is stained with TK’s blood.  

He swallows as he turns on the faucet and lets the water run down at the coldest temperature before sticking his hands under it and working the remaining traces of blood off his ring. He momentarily relishes the cool sensation against his skin, but he soon breaks watching the pink-tinted water swirl down the drain.

It feels like TK is getting further and further away from him as each second passes by. He feels like he’s losing TK.

Helplessness settles in his bones, barely turning off the water and he grips the marble to support himself as his entire body starts to shake with the force of his oncoming sobs. A cry rips through his throat and he tightens his hold on the marble, afraid that his knees will no longer hold him up and he’ll crumble to the ground if he lets go.

He feels the fear crawling underneath his skin, the terror ringing through his whole being, the longing, the pain…it all washes over him at the same time, and he almost collapses from the weight of it. But he holds on. TK needs him to hold on. So he draws in a deep breath, stands up straight and splashes icy water over his face a few times.

Carlos returns to the waiting area with swollen eyes and Owen runs a hand up and down his back once he’s seated next to him once again, patting his shoulder before pulling back.

“We…we were planning on going over to my parents’ for dinner this weekend,” Carlos’s shaky voice slices through the silence that settles over them. “Our schedules lined up and TK was so excited. He,” he pauses, a small smile forming on his face. “He was saying how we should bake something to take to dinner. Chocolate chip cookies. They’re his go-to when it comes to baking,” he trails off, his hands connecting and he starts nervously fidgeting, rubbing his hands together.  “Chocolate chip cookies,” he whispers.

“They were always his favorite kind of cookies when he was a kid,” Owen says.

Carlos turns to look at Owen, his features broken and eyes filled with fragments of loss and aching. “He’s going to be okay, right? He has to be. He…has to be okay.”

“He’s strong, and he’s in the best of hands. He’s going to fight to come back to us, to come back to you, Carlos. The happiest I’ve ever seen my son was when he was with you, even in the beginning, when you were still figuring things out, there was something different about him, I could see it, I could feel it. He seemed lighter, brighter. His eyes lit up. I didn’t want to pry or push to know more, but when I saw you together, I knew. You were the missing piece he needed, you helped make him better, stronger. He’s going to come back to that.”

“It was the same with me. He saved me, in so many ways,” Carlos expresses.

“You saved each other,” Owen replies with a smile, giving Carlos’s knee a squeeze.

Carlos and Owen move to the waiting room on the surgical floor a little while later. Owen sits down on an identical plastic chair while Carlos paces around the room.

He stops when he looks out into the hallway and sees the rest of the team making their way towards them, all wearing the same concerned look on their faces.

“We got here as fast as we could,” Judd says as they step inside.

“Have you heard anything yet?” Marjan asks, her eyebrows drawn together.

Owen shakes his head. “He’s been in surgery for almost two hours.”

“He’s a strong kid, he’ll make it through,” Judd speaks with a steady voice.

“I should go call my mom, let her know what happened,” Carlos starts walking towards the door.

Paul pats Carlos’s shoulder as he passes him, and Carlos responds with an appreciative nod.

Carlos’s short trip to go outside is a haze, moving robotically until he’s stepping into the open air, the sun still high in the sky. It’s hot, Carlos closes his eyes and tilts his head up in the direction of the sun, letting its warmth seep into his skin. He takes a deep breath as he opens his eyes, pulls out his phone and he notices a few texts from Mitchell. He makes a mental note to reply later and moves to the phone icon, touching his mother’s contact from his favorites list.

One ring, two rings, three rings…

“Carlitos!”

“Mami…”

Andrea immediately picks up on his broken tone. “What’s wrong, mijo?”

“It’s…There was an accident…a car pile up downtown and…TK, he…he was in it,” Carlos’s voice cracks.

“Oh, Dios,” Andrea draws in a sharp breath. “How is he?” She asks and Carlos can hear rustling and movement in the background now.

“He…he lost a lot of blood, Ma. He was stuck in the car and his side was hurt…they took him straight to surgery and we haven’t heard anything yet,” Carlos sniffs.

“Where are you? I’m on my way,” Andrea says.

Carlos can hear the emotion in his mother’s voice and he knows she’s trying to keep her worry and fear for TK from breaking through the phone. She’s always been Carlos’s rock, strong and steady, and he can tell by her tone that she’s keeping it together for him. Still, though, he can hear the slight waver in her voice at the knowledge that her soon to be son-in-law is badly injured, currently undergoing surgery.

Since the moment TK was officially introduced to Carlos’s parents, they welcomed him into their family with wide, open arms. They had immediately liked him and adored him, Andrea happily whispering it into Carlos’s ear at the end of that very night. They saw the love between him and their son, and it had uplifted Andrea and Gabriel’s spirits and filled their own hears with so much love and glee.

And when Carlos had called them one night, voice filled with bliss and excitement, telling them that TK had proposed to him, Andrea and Gabriel wept tears of joy.

Knowing how much Andrea loves TK, telling her that he was hurt is one of the hardest things Carlos has ever had to do.

“We’re at West Park Memorial,” Carlos replies.

With a promise from Andrea to be there shortly, they end the call. He returns to the waiting room a few minutes later, everyone’s eyes landing on him. Carlos feels shrunk, his shoulders drawn in, his body feeling so heavy.

“She’s on her way,” he says before turning to stare into the direction of the operating rooms.

“No news yet,” it’s Judd who speaks next, reading Carlos’s mind.

Carlos nods and returns to his seat next to Owen.

Silence falls onto the room, everyone doing little things to keep themselves busy. Mateo praying, Marjan and Paul standing and pacing, Judd grabbing a couch pillow and holding it against his chest, Owen’s head is thrown back against the wall with his eyes closed and Carlos’s leg starts bouncing up and down while he fidgets with his hands. His fingers gravitate towards his ring, the one tangible piece of TK he has with him in this moment. Carlos always gravitates towards TK.

The team eventually get called away to a rescue with their promises too to return as soon as they can.

Carlos’s phone rings and a glance at his screen tells him it’s his mother.

“Ma,” Carlos answers.

“Hi, mijo. I’m walking in now, where are you?”

“We’re in the waiting room on the surgical floor,” Carlos tells her.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Carlos spots Andrea hurrying through the hall, handbag clutched against her side soon after they hang up.

“Carlitos,” Andrea breaths as she steps into the room.

Carlos walks over to her and falls against her as she wraps him in a tight hug.

“It’s okay, mijo. Va a estar bien,” she whispers reassuringly, holding him in a steady grip. It’s going to be okay.

Carlos returns the embrace, burying his face in his mother’s neck, more tears spring to his eyes at being held by his mother and feeling her safety and comfort.

There’s a considerable height difference between Carlos and Andrea, but right now, Carlos may as well be a little boy and she a giant. Her protective hold on him is steady and grounding.

Once they pull back, Andrea cups Carlos’s face and wipes the fallen tears with the pads of her thumbs.

“Any news?”

Carlos shakes his head.

Andrea walks over to Owen, who gets up and they exchange a quick hug.

“He’s going to be fine,” Andrea says as she takes a seat next to her son.

Carlos nods, his eyes drifting back to his ring.

“There was a missing ingredient,” Andrea says after a while.

Carlos frowns as he turns to look at her.

“I was talking to him this morning, I sent him the family recipe for tamales,” she explains. “He wanted to surprise you but there was one missing thing.”

“Our dinner date tonight…that’s why he was out, he was going to the store,” Carlos connects the dots, eyes filling with tears.

Andrea nods.

“That was his surprise,” the realization dawns on Carlos. “He knows tamales are my favorite,” a small smile forms on his face.

Andrea places her palm on the nape of Carlos’s neck and pulls him gently towards her. He goes easily and rests his forehead against her shoulder. She whispers comforting words in Spanish as she runs her fingers over Carlos’s short hair just above his neck. He closes his eyes, evening out his breathing as he soaks up his mother’s comfort.

*****

Carlos is staring into nothingness almost an hour later, his eyes glued to to the hallway but unseeing. His mind on TK, all figures that pass through and walk the hallway blurred. Until one doctor is walking towards the waiting room, his form getting clearer and clearer as Carlos forces his vision to focus on him.

The doctor is visibly tired, his face crunched up, still wearing his surgical cap as he enters the room. Carlos can’t read him, and that worries him even more. He braces himself, swallowing as the doctor starts speaking.

“Family of Tyler Strand?”

“TK,” Owen corrects as he gets to his feet. “How’s my son?”

Carlos and Andrea follow suit, the tension building in the small space.

The doctor nods at Owen. “TK made it through,” he offers them a kind smile.

The collective breath Owen, Carlos and Andrea were holding is released as they breathe out a sigh of relief. Carlos closes his eyes, letting the doctor’s words sink in, sagging forward a little. He feels Andrea’s hand running up and down his back, grounding him and he leans into her warm touch.

“There were some complications, however,” the doctor continues. “We were mostly concerned about the amount of blood he lost, which caused his blood pressure to drop. His numbers were low during the surgery but we were able to keep him stable and with some blood transfusions, his blood pressure began to improve. The metal shard nicked his kidney but it didn’t cause major damage, we were also able to repair the laceration. Brain scans were all normal, indicating no brain injury. His chest is bruised and he has a minor lung contusion from the force of the seatbelt, but that will heal on its own. He’s young and healthy, I expect him to make a full recovery.”

“Can we see him?” Andrea asks, knowing it’s on Carlos’s mind and also knowing Carlos is still processing the doctor’s prognosis.

The doctor nods. “He’s currently in recovery and he can have visitors once he’s settled in a room after some observation. I’ll make sure a nurse comes to inform you when he’s ready.”

“Thank you so much, doctor,” Owen extends his hand.

The doctor nods once more, shaking Owen’s hand. “He’ll be home in no time.”

Carlos is rolling his ring on his finger and nervously bouncing his leg a while later when a young nurse approaches them.

“TK is ready for visitors,” she announces with a smile.

Owen turns to look at Carlos. “Go,” he urges.

“Are you sure?” Carlos asks.

Owen nods. “I’m sure, I’ll stop by to see him in a while.”

Owen pats Carlos’s shoulder as the officer gets to his feet and follows the nurse towards TK’s room.

“I’ll be back in an hour to check on him,” the nurse says as they come to a halt in front of a closed door. “The nurses’ station is down the hall if you need anything, or you can just press the call button near the bed.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

He knew what to expect, he knew what his eyes would land on once he stepped into the room but still, seeing TK looking so small and still in the hospital bed shakes Carlos to his core.

An ache bolts up and down his body as he makes his way towards TK, his footsteps echoing off the walls, the only sound aside from the beeping of the heart monitor. He doesn’t take his eyes off his fiancé as he lowers himself on the chair situated next to the bed, watching as the paramedic’s chest rises and falls with each breath he takes.

Carlos is at least glad to see that TK has regained some color but it’s the stillness that also makes the officer uneasy. TK is always active, even when he’s asleep, twisting and turning in bed every now and then. Carlos would say he’s a light sleeper, he loved when TK started spending the night in the early days of their relationship. Though TK’s restlessness would sometimes wake Carlos from his slumber, he’d wrap an arm around TK’s middle and drift off to sleep again only for it to happen again a few hours later. Carlos never minded that, though, he’d be woken up by many things over the years, and being woken up by TK’s movement is by far his favorite.

Eventually, those movements from the younger man through the night had become a source of comfort for Carlos over the months, a reminder that TK is right next to him, in his bed. It grounded Carlos, and a sleepy smile would spread over his face as he gravitates towards those movements, warmth spreading through his body.

But here, right now, Carlos shivers, an icy sensation darting through his nerves. TK’s stillness is wrong, all wrong and so unlike TK is breaks Carlos’s heart all over again.

Carefully, Carlos reaches out, clasping TK’s hand in his own and prays that he can feel the familiar pressure.

“Hi, baby,” Carlos eventually speaks, his voice hoarser than he expected. “I’m here and you’re okay. They took really good care of you and you’ll be back on your feet in no time. I just…I miss you, Ty.”

The only response Carlos gets is the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

He sighs, running his thumb over TK’s knuckles. “I miss your voice, your smile, those beautiful green eyes of yours…your kiss. Come back to me, babe. This is only our beginning, we still have so much to do together. And I’ll be right here, right by your side, always. I’m not going anywhere,” Carlos vows.

Some time later, Carlos is so focused on TK and watching him, he doesn’t hear the knock on the door or it being pushed open until he senses another presence in the room.

He turns to see Owen stepping in, and stops by the foot of the bed.

“He looks better,” the Captain says, his eyes glued to his son.

Carlos nods, and continues running his fingers through TK’s hair.

“Your mom is heading to your place to pack a bag for you and TK,” Owen adds after a few moments. “She said to tell you to call or text her if there’s anything in specific you’d like her to get. And she’s also getting you some food.”

Carlos nods again. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat, though.”

Owen’s eyes soften. “I know, but you have to keep your strength up. He’s going to need you when he wakes up. You need to take care of yourself so you can take care of him.”

Carlos knows Owen is right, so he doesn’t argue. “Thank you,” he tells Owen.

“Thank you,” Owen reciprocates. “You saved his life.”

“Part of me hopes I could have done more, I felt so helpless just…I wish I could have done more,” Carlos drops his head.

“Hey, Carlos,” Owen walks over so he’s behind the officer. He places a hand on Carlos’s shoulder and gives him a supportive squeeze. “You did everything you could, I know you did. I’ve seen so many accidents to know that in that pile up today, TK’s chances were…” he trails off, shaking his head. “His chances weren’t good. If it wasn’t for you, TK wouldn’t be here right now.”

The mere thought of that brings tears to Carlos’s eyes. “A guy flagged me down and…I followed him and then I realized it was TK and…my whole world stopped.”

Owen nods. “I hate that you had to go through that but…part of me is glad it was you who got to him. Because I know you would have done, and did do, everything you can to keep him alive. You climbed into the wrecked car, and that says everything.”

Carlos moves his hand to cup TK’s face, lightly tracing his cheekbone with the tip of his thumb. “I would do anything to make sure he’s okay.”

A moment of silence washes over them as Owen dips his hand into his pocket and pulls it out, fist closed before opening his palm in front of Carlos.

“Here,” Owen says.

Carlos looks down into Owen’s open hand and a tear rolls down his cheek when he sees TK’s ring there.

“The nurse gave me his stuff after she lead you here. I thought you should hold on to it for him,” Owen explains.

Carlos sniffs, reaches out and takes the ring. He secures it in a fist and brings his hand over his heart, holding it there before leaning forward and brushing a kiss to TK’s temple.

*****

Owen stays until Andrea is knocking on the door, walking into a room carrying a duffel bag and a brown paper bag. The delicious smell immediately hits Carlos and his stomach rumbles. His mother must have heard it because she gives him a knowing smile.

Owen excuses himself a few minutes later, making Carlos promise to call if anything changes. With one final glance at his son, Owen leaves.

Carlos settles on the small table in the corner of the room as he unwraps the food his mom brought him. Andrea stands near the bed and plants a tender kiss to TK’s forehead then sits in the chair previously occupied by Carlos.

Carlos watches the sweet exchange and feels his heart flutter in his chest at the sight. It’s such a simple gesture but it speaks volumes of the way Andrea had come to love TK and happily welcome him into the family. Carlos had witnessed TK and Andrea growing closer and closer over the course of their relationship and it had made him happier than words could express. He’d smile, his heart soaring as he watched them in conversation or watched TK help Andrea in the kitchen, talking about anything and everything, while preparing dinner together at the Reyes ranch.

There’s pain and sadness in his heart at seeing Andrea sit next to TK’s hospital bed. And even more when he hears his mother’s broken whisper of oh, amor, as her eyes roam over TK’s battered face and he can tell she’s imagining the layers of bandages hidden underneath his gown.

Carlos can tell she’s struggling, trying to remain strong for both him and TK. Because not only is Andrea’s Carlos’s rock and support, but she is also TK’s.

“It’s okay, Ma,” Carlos reassures her. There’s so many layers to those three words, and she catches on to each and every one.

She gives him a small, sad smile, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

“Your dad sends his love, and he said he’ll be by to visit TK soon, once he’s awake and strong,” Andrea says a little while later, after Carlos had finished eating, freshened up, changed into sweats and a hoodie, and returned to TK’s side.

She was about to get up to vacate his seat then, but Carlos shook his head and gestured for her to remain seated there. He dropped into the chair on the other side of the bed, the one Owen had grabbed from near the wall and had been sitting in.

Visiting hours were coming to an end and Andrea was getting ready to leave. With a gentle pat to TK’s cheek, she gets to her feet and clutches her handbag, Carlos following her.

“Carlitos,” she starts but Carlos is quickly shaking his head, knowing what she’s going to say.

“I can’t leave him,” he answers.

Andrea sighs. “It’s going to be busy in here tonight, they’ll be checking on TK every couple of hours and you need to rest, too.”

“I know, but I won’t be able to sleep if I do go home either. I’ll stay wide awake, worrying and wondering and going back home now, going back to our bed, without him or without knowing he’s really okay…I can’t. At least staying, I can grab an hour here and there when they aren’t checking on him.”

Andrea nods after a moment. She knew deep down that Carlos would stay, hence the bag she had packed. She’s cupping Carlos’s face, caressing his cheek before pulling him into a hug.

He goes easily, wrapping his arms around his mother and returning the hug. Her strong hold on him gives him strength himself, almost transferring some of hers to him and he soaks it all up.

“He’s going to be just fine,” Andrea whispers, kissing Carlos’s cheek as they separate.

Carlos nods.

“I love you, mijo,” Andrea expresses. “I love you both.”

“We love you, too, Ma.”

After a similar promise to Andrea like the one made to Owen, she leaves, grabbing the bag sitting next to the door containing Carlos’s bloodstained uniform on her way out.

Carlos returns to his original place next to the bed, his hand going back to TK’s.

“It’s just you and me now, babe.”

*****

It starts with one slow movement. It’s so slow Carlos would have probably missed it if he weren’t watching TK as closely as he is.

The sun has climbed high in the sky, the hours ticked by from the time Carlos had given up on sleep around dawn. It was a night filled with fitful and restless sleep, as he had expected and between the nurse checking on TK and Carlos’s own worry, the officer managed to get three hours of shuteye.

He couldn’t sleep past the moment light cracked through the darkness of the sky above, so he got up, running a hand through his loose curls and stretched his aching muscles. The sun slowly got higher and stronger, painting the sky in streaks of orange, yellow and red, the colors morphing together in a magical way. He watched the process through the thin curtain, getting lost in it for a few moments before directing his attention back to TK.

TK who still hadn’t woken up. Who hasn’t even stirred.

Carlos was awake during the nurse’s more recent visit and she had assured him that it was perfectly normal, that TK’s body still needed some rest and that TK is doing well. He thanked her, giving her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes followed by a nod when she mentioned there’s a coffee station just down the hall.

He feels TK’s ring sitting in his pocket, and he longs for the moment when he’ll able to slip it back on his finger, where it belongs.

He kept a positive attitude, repeating the nurse’s comforting words in his mind over and over, clinging to them as more minutes passed by with no indication from his fiancé of waking up.

“Come back to me, baby,” Carlos had whispered, giving TK’s hand a light squeeze.

He eventually left the room for a quick trip to the mentioned coffee station, and was back by TK’s side in a matter of minutes.

He kept himself occupied replying to texts he had received—from Mitchell, some of his other colleagues at the precinct, and most recently the 126 group chat, while keeping an eye on TK, as well.

The texts were all replied to and the coffee had long been consumed when the slow movement from the bed catches Carlos’s attention.

A small nudge of TK’s head to side, his eyes still closed. For a second, Carlos thinks his mind is playing a trick on him. But then it happens again, in the other direction and that has Carlos moving forward, heart picking up speed in his chest.

“TK?” Carlos calls. “TK, can you hear me?”

His heart is on its way to sinking from the lack of response from the paramedic, but instead flutters because TK is slowly opening his eyes and finding Carlos through the haze.

Carlos’s face breaks into a smile that does reach his eyes this time, said eyes also filling with tears at the sight of the green irises he has so terribly missed.

“Hi, baby, hi,” Carlos continues, his voice soft.

“‘Los,” TK breaths, his voice scratchy and low but it’s his voice and Carlos can almost weep at his nickname that only TK uses.

“I’m here, I’m here. You’re okay,” Carlos reassures him. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

Carlos’s hand moves to cup TK’s face, caressing his cheek and his heart sings when TK summons all the energy he can and leans into Carlos’s touch.

“Get some more rest, babe, I’m not going anywhere,” Carlos says when he notices TK drifting back to sleep.

Watching TK’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm now, TK’s ring in Carlos’s pocket feels lighter.

*****

The sun is getting lower when TK wakes up again. Andrea had passed by and joined Carlos for lunch a couple of hours before, Carlos feeling better and able to eat properly.

He was sitting in his usual spot on the chair next to the bed, mindlessly going through his phone and switching between apps when the same nudge of TK’s head pulls his attention, albeit it’s a little more frantic than the previous ones.

“Hey, hey, baby,” Carlos gets closer to TK, eyes on his face.

TK’s eyes are faster in opening this time, landing on Carlos and then looking around the room.

“Carlos?”

“Right here, I’m right here.”

“What…” TK’s eyebrows draw together, confusion written all over his face.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Carlos takes hold of TK’s hand. “You were in an accident, you were hurt pretty bad but they took care of you and everything’s okay. Do you remember?”

TK nods after a second and swallows against his dry throat.

“Do you want some water?”

TK nods again.

Carlos grabs the plastic cup from the nightstand and guides the straw through TK’s parched lips. “Easy, slow sips.”

“How—how bad is it?” TK asks once he’s done drinking.

Carlos sighs as he returns the cup. “We don’t have to talk about that now.”

“Please…I…I need to know,” TK says with a low tone.

After a moment, Carlos nods. “You were stuck in the backseat, you had some cuts and scraps, a concussion, bruise from the seatbelt and…there was a piece of metal lodged in your side. You lost a lot of blood, and I tried to keep pressure as much as I could but I didn’t want to hurt you more and…” he sucks in a shaky breath.

TK uses his energy to squeeze Carlos’s hand, knowing where the officer’s mind is going, taking him back to the horrific accident scene. TK squeezes Carlos’s hand to ground him and bring him back to the present.

“Never in a million years had I expected to see you in that crash…I was actually thinking the opposite, that I won’t see you because it’s your day off. But then the universe flipped the table on me and there you were…” Carlos trails off and then shakes his head. “I’m sorry, you just woke up, this…this isn’t what you should be hearing.”

It’s TK’s turn to gently shake his head. “Hey, there’s nothing to apologize for. Whatever you need to let out, and everything you’re feeling and thinking…I’m here to listen, no matter what.”

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” Carlos lowers his gaze.

“Look at me, baby, look at me. You can never overwhelm me…I know how tough this has been, and I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Carlos tightens his hold on TK’s hand. “I was…so scared. I felt so helpless and it felt like you were being ripped away from me. And for a moment you were, when they wheeled you away and it broke me, in that moment, I shattered,” the tears get heavier in his eyes and with a blink, a tear falls and streaks down his cheek.

TK’s own eyes well up at seeing the pain and heartbreak drawn on Carlos’s face and coating his voice, wanting nothing more than to take it all away.

“I remember coming to after I blacked out from the initial crash and it was…terrifying. My mind hadn’t completely caught up with what happened and once it did, I was really scared,” TK sniffs. “I felt so alone. But you know what? When I saw you, well, at first I thought I was dreaming but then you reached out to me and touched me and it felt real, you felt real and warm and you were right there…I knew in my heart you were there and I wasn’t scared anymore. I didn’t feel alone anymore. I knew you would save me, like you did so many times before.”

More tears roll down Carlos’s cheeks at TK’s words.

“And you did. You saved me, ‘Los.”

Carlos lunges forward, taking TK’s face gently in his hands and plants a kiss on TK’s forehead.

“You saved me just as much,” Carlos whispers, looking into TK’s eyes where brown meets green, and there’s so much said without needing words, so much love communicated and felt. Carlos leans in, first touching their foreheads together and then brushing a tentative kiss to TK’s lips. And Carlos feels whole again.

“Also,” Carlos starts once he pulls back. “We’re definitely making those tamales once we’re back home.”

“You know?”

Carlos nods. “Ma told me. Missing one ingredient.”

“Yeah…I wanted to surprise you. You’ve been working so hard lately and I wanted to do something for you,” TK expresses.

“That means everything, TK. I just hate that you got hurt, I know neither of us could control what happened but still…I hate that it happened.”

TK nods. “But I’m here and I’m okay.”

“You are,” Carlos drops a kiss to TK’s cheek this time. “And one more thing,” he adds, a hand digging into his pocket.

He opens his palm in front of TK to reveal his ring and TK looks up at him, eyes glistening.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Carlos holds out his free hand to TK.

TK carefully lifts his hand and gives it to Carlos.

He watches as Carlos slides the ring on his finger, the familiar weight of it a comfort. He closes his eyes when Carlos brushes a kiss to the ring now sitting where it belongs, relishing in the touch.

“I love you, Ty, now and forever.”

Carlos's eyes are so soft and filled with love and adoration, it makes TK's heart swell with just as much love. He smiles, knowing he's found a home in Carlos. And he knows with his whole being that Carlos has found one in him, too.

“I love you too, ‘Los, always.”

And when TK gives Carlos the smile that’s reserved for only him, Carlos knows in his heart that they’re going to be just fine.

[airiustide]

If I Could (I’d Kiss Your Fingers)

A Water Witch Tale

Summary: Taking place after Katara returns to the Fire Nation to stay with her new family, Zuko wants to give her a gift as a way to show how much she means to him. With Izumi's help, father and daughter pick out the perfect chocolates for Katara. Meanwhile, Katara works on something precious of her own. Part of the The Water Witch Tales 

A/N: I asked myself if I wanted to do a additional piece for The Water Witch of Biei Village or write a Valentine’s special fic? My brain: por que no los dos? I've wanted to write more about this zutara family since ending The Water Witch of Biei Village two years ago. My hearts been set on it and today was a perfect.

also posted on AO3

***

“Chocolates. Chocolates. We’re going to pick chocolates!” Izumi sang, skipping around several staff entering the Fire Lord’s study carrying gold trays of serve ware covered with lids. 

Zuko shoos them in, peering from left to right outside the study until the confectioner himself is the last to enter and Zuko can now close the door behind him. “Quickly, lay them there.” The Fire Lord points to the long table stationed in front of the open balcony doors. He grabs a hopping Izumi by the waist and swings her over his shoulders, eliciting a squeal. “Calm down, love. We’ll get to try them all, I promise.”

“Then we give to Mommy?” The four-year-old grins, panting from all the excitement. 

“Then we give them to Mommy.” Zuko confirms, reflecting his daughter’s smile. 

Zuko had been considering the perfect gift to give Katara after she had returned, after having forced the captain of the airship that was supposed to take her home to the rural lands of the Fire Nation countryside to turn around. It was a moment of joy and tears. Katara proclaimed Izumi her daughter without asking anything in return other than to care for the Fire Nation princess as her own. Any attempt at giving Katara jewels or expensive dresses were turned down. Katara’s humble rejection was sweet but was leaving Zuko a little deflected.

He wanted to impress her. The one kiss wasn’t enough and they talked little of it since then despite Katara’s return being well over a month ago. It was then that Izumi brought up how Katara had never eaten chocolates before, a discussion brought up while the waterbender did the nightly routine of brushing her daughter’s hair. 

It was then the idea sparked in Zuko’s head. Chocolates. No one could possibly turn down chocolates. A simple yet desirable candy.  

Once the trays are laid out, the confectioner snaps his fingers for his staff to remove the lids. Zuko lifts Izumi off his shoulders and sets her on her feet, the little girl’s bright gold eyes looking at the great display of chocolates laid before her in wonderment. “Wow.” She breathes.

“Only the best chocolates in the whole Fire Nation, your majesty. We’ve traveled all this way per your request from Ember Island. May I present my finest work.” The confectioner, Chou, bows. 

Zuko and Izumi approach, stopping at the first tray sitting at the left end of the table. 

“The first I’d like to present is a common treat. The bark is made from milk chocolate, quite sweet, I warn, but much lighter than the typical chocolate.” The confectioner explains.

Zuko breaks a piece for himself and Izumi to try. “Hmm.” The Fire Lord hums, finding his jaw lock from the overly sweet candy. “What do you think, princess?”

“It melts in my mouth!” Izumi exclaimed. “But too sweet.”

“Of course. This here, is a truffle.” Chou points to the second plate. “Though, today we’ll try many of these kinds of chocolates, this one’s a dark ganache blended with a touch of champagne.”

“Mmm.” Izumi sighs, popping the truffle in her mouth. “I like this one.”

“That’ll go in the yes pile then.” Zuko chuckled, nodding for one of the confectioner's staff to put the tray aside. 

The young Fire Lord had to admit, the amount of it all was too much. Some portions had to be given in small doses to prevent a stomach ache. Izumi was so eager to try them all that the first six or so trays resulted in tossing handfuls into her mouth. Not so much because she wanted to eat them all, but because it was so important to her that Katara had the best. 

Cordials, hazelnut, rum, caramel. It was all so delightful. It was not only a means to give a gift to share with someone they loved but the father/daughter time they had lost when Izumi had fallen ill was made up with a simple moment such as this. 

There was still more to go. Zuko deemed it unnecessary to try the rest when his daughter’s face became smeared with chocolate and her eyelids began to flutter. They had already settled on three flavors, some which will be boxed prettily for the master waterbender; passion fruit, mint, and champagne. 

“Good choice, your majesty.” Chou compliments. “The lady will surely be pleased.”

“Hmpf.” Zuko frowned. Chou would not be saying that if he knew that Zuko planned on gifting the chocolates to a waterbender. The Fire Lord was ashamed to admit that his people viewed waterbenders as conjurers of magic, they’re dwindling race created stereotypes and rumors far beyond what the truth actually beheld. “Do not worry, she will. Thank you for your journey to the capital. You will be highly compensated and even more in the future if Katara wishes for it.”

“Of course.” Chou bows, snapping his fingers for his staff to collect the leftovers and head out quickly.

“Someone’s sleepy.” Zuko turns to Izumi, sweeping her in his arms and cleaning the chocolate off her face with the sleeve of his royal robes. She had gained some weight since her lungs healed, no longer the tiny thin figure she once was when he had thought he was on the verge of losing her. 

“Mm...not sleepy, Daddy. I want to see Mommy.” The princess looks over at the neatly boxed chocolates sitting on the long table. She couldn’t sleep yet. She had carefully selected everything for her mother, Izumi wanted to give them to her now. 

“You will after a nap. Then, we will see Katara.” He coos, watching Izumi finally close her tired eyes as he holds her gently in his lap while he proceeds to sit in his cushioned pillow so that he could continue his work.

***

This is starting to feel like a distraction. When Kioko had shown up at Katara’s chambers that morning with an urgent request that required them to head to Caldera’s marketplace, the waterbender felt as though she had no choice but to oblige. She wished to see Izumi, if not for a little bit, before her and Kioko departed but the head healer demanded that they make haste.

“What, exactly, is it we’re looking for?” Katara questioned, looking around the busy streets with the older woman’s arm linked to hers. 

Guards surround them on all sides, a apparent perk the master waterebender wish didn’t come with officially adopting Izumi but Zuko would have it no other way. His argument, that people were against her legal adoption of Izumi albeit Katara knew the real reason- it meant Zuko was not willing to remarry. Every unmarried noblewoman and Zuko’s advisors made that clear with a single glare directed at her alone. It did not matter that Izumi was a living, healthy heir now. No, they needed more security than that, and marrying a Lady within the Fire Nation meant ensuring this. 

Kioko assured Katara that they were jealous nobodies that only dreamed of getting close to the Fire Lord if only to benefit from him. 

“Zuko would give you the world.” Kioko told her once, the two ladies held up in Katara’s room with wine and light chat. “He would bow to his knees for you, if you would permit him, and proclaim everything that is his, is yours.”

That came as a surprise to Katara, yet it made sense considering that she had healed Zuko’s daughter from certain death. She ignored that small whisper in her head that Kioko’s statement meant something deeper. The waterbender brushed it aside.

“I thought we might do some shopping. I haven’t seen my poor husband in months since his travels and I want to present him a gift when he returns next week.” Kioko answered her question.

“Are you not the gift, Kioko?” Katara smirked playfully.

“Oh my heavens. That is only between me and the captain I call husband.” Kioko winked. “We had missed our anniversary this last winter and I wanted to surprise him.”

“Sounds easy. What does he like?”

“Hmm, well, I was thinking I’d fashion up a new robe or maybe purchase new cuffs for his uniform. Oh, and while we’re here, why not get something nice for his majesty” Kioko said the last sentence so fast, Katara barely caught it.

“Zuko?” Katara whirled her head. “Oh. I guess I never did anything nice for him before. He did take me out that one time, after all.” A deep blush surfaced on her cheeks and Katara bit her bottom lip from smiling. She remembers where Zuko's hands were. His sultry voice and his low breath that tickled and teased her skin when he had openly flirted with her. The way his eyes glazed over when she had danced with him. 

Kioko raised an eyebrow at Katara’s sudden silence. 

“Yes.” The waterbender cleared her throat after noticing the head healer was staring at her. “A gift. I see no harm in buying one for him.” 

That’s what you believe. Kioko smiles, knowing full well Zuko was caught in Katara’s web and the poor girl had no idea what power she had over the Fire Lord. He loved her and she, likewise. The old woman hoped they’d realize it soon or else she would have to resort to locking them in the same room together, if it meant finally professing their feelings. 

The problem was, what does a Fire Lord like that he doesn’t already have? Yeah, Katara had enough to buy a pretty solid gift for someone of her status but Zuko was head of a nation. Katara didn’t have anything to her name that would remotely impress him. 

“Child, you’re thinking too hard.” Kioko interrupts her thoughts.

“Am I? I’m not exactly feeling confident here.” Katara panicked. “S-sorry I snapped like that. I don’t think anything here would be to Zuko’s liking.”

“That’s because you’re thinking of his status rather than what he is as a person. His majesty wasn’t as sheltered as you think. He’s traveled the world, he’s encountered struggle and defeat and when the tyrant, Lord Ozai, dies within the third year of Lord Zuko’s banishment and his daughter was seized for his death, Lord Zuko was called back to take his place as a mere child himself, marry, and raise a daughter on his own after his beloved’s death. He’s more humble than he lets on and we have the former general to thank for that.”

Iroh. Zuko often talked about him. “I know he’s like a father to Zuko. I didn’t mean to insult Zuko.”

“You did no such thing, dear. I wanted to remind you that his majesty is more than just a leader. He’s a man and a father first. Look to that when you go about searching for a gift for him.”

Katara halts, a large grin stretching on her lips. “I’ve got just the thing. Kioko, we need to stop at a few places.”

*** 

Where is she? Kioko refused to let Zuko visit Katara’s chambers, stating that the waterbender was busy and that she would meet them for dinner as soon as she was available. Izumi whined that she wanted to see Katara now and her impatience was starting to weigh on Zuko, who had to try and entertain his daughter as best he could until her mother arrived. They had taken dinner to his chambers this time, so that he and Izumi could give the present to Katara in peace. 

Zuko had asked that Kioko distract Katara while he and Izumi snuck in the confectioner and his staff, he had no idea that they would be gone well into midafternoon only for Katara to run back to her room and shut herself away with so much as a greeting. 

“What has Katara holed up in her room?” Zuko asked during dinner. 

“You’re majesty, I’m afraid this is an important time for Master Katara. She will see you and Princess Izumi as soon as she can.”

Something’s fishy. “You aren’t withholding anything from your Fire Lord, are you, Kioko?”

“You’re majesty.” Kioko feigned shock, resting a hand on her chest. “You would not use your position of power to pry personal information regarding your dear daughter’s mother from me, would you?”

Zuko’s good eye widened, his cheeks blushing profusely. “I- No. Of course not.” He grumbles, finding his food unappetizing because the anxiousness was eating at him. Izumi, the same, poked her steamed slug with a heavy sigh. Katara hadn’t gone a day without being next to her. Had they truly grown that attached?

The three are disturbed by the sound of the door opening and the master waterbender entering the room. “Late-” She pants, her wild hair loose over her shoulders and pieces of random fabric stuck to her dress. “Didn’t mean- I’m here now.” Katara smiles while she gains her composure.

“Mommy!” Izumi cried, jumping from her seat and rushing to her mother’s arms. “What took so long? I missed you.” Her voice trembled.

Katara felt guilty. Izumi had already been through enough when Katara left, she didn’t quite think through how a long separation might affect her again. “I’ve missed you too, love, and I’m here now.”

“Come here, come here. Daddy and I have something to show you.” Izumi pulls her mother along.

“Really now?”

Zuko grips the box in his lap, licking his lips to hide his nerves as Katara sat next him, her arm brushing his arm as she places Izumi on her lap. Agni, give me strength, he prays.

“What’s that you got there.” Katara leaned into him sideways, the box shaking in his hands. 

Why was he nervous all of a sudden? Zuko’s throat swelled up, his palms were sweaty. 

“Me and Daddy got you a gift!” Izumi replied.

“A gift? For me? Zuko, I thought-”

“I know.” He said, finally mustering the courage to speak. “But this is different. Please accept it, Izumi and I worked really hard to select them for you.”

They both gave her pleading eyes. Spirits, how can she resist such cute faces. “Okay. Can I open it?”

Zuko hands the box to her and Izumi claps excitedly as Katara pulls the ribbon and lifts the top half of the box to reveal something she’s never seen before. “What are these?”

“Chocolates!” Izumi giggled.

“They’re edible sweets made of cocoa.”

Katara eyes the pieces curiously. Unsure of where to start. “They’re all so different.” She comments.

“Here, Mommy, you’ll like this one.” Izumi picks out a passion fruit, lifting it to Katara’s mouth. 

Her eyes sparkle as she takes her first piece, her taste buds overtaken with a mix of passion fruit, chocolate and white chocolate. It’s decadent but the flavors are pleasant. “Spirits, that's delicious!”

“Hehe. See, I told you she’d like it, Daddy.”

“So this is what you two have been conspiring this whole time.” Katara teased the Fire Lord.

“We only wished to do something special.” Zuko explained sheepishly. 

“Well, this was certainly special.” Katara smiles.

“Why don’t you try the other flavors.” He suggests.

“Only if you guys eat them with me. This is certainly a lot.”

Katara pops one into Izumi’s mouth first. “Your turn.” She says to Zuko. 

His heart throbs in his ears. Before he could protest, Katara presses a piece of chocolate to his lips and he reluctantly opens, enclosing it in his mouth along with Katara’s index finger and his brain short circuits. As he chews the piece he can only assume is mint, refreshing much like Katara’s presence, her fingers still lingering on his lips; they’re gazes stayed only on each other. 

Zuko leans in slightly, drinking in Katara’s face as she bites the corner of her lip. She likes the look he’s giving her- heavy, glazed and adorning. She wants to see more of this, more of him looking like her just like this. “Do you want more?” She asks in a whisper.

“Well, this has been lovely.” Kioko announced, catching the Fire Lord and Master Waterbender off guard, shame written on their faces. “I’ll take my leave. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

It takes a while for the heat to die down in the room and the tension to fade before Katara tells Zuko she has something for him too. “For both you and Izumi, in fact.” She reaches for the pouch attached to her sash and opens it, fishing out two weaved bracelets with charms on them. “It’s not much but I thought of you two and I wanted to make something that would always be with you.”

“Pretty.” Izumi brightens. Katara ties the bracelet to her wrist, three little charms dangling from it; one of the moon, the second the symbol of the painted lady and the third a sparrowkeet. 

 Next was Zukos, which Katara delicately tied to his wrist as well. The first charm was of two dragons tangled in a dance, the second a replica of the carved stone on Katara’s necklace and the third the mask of the blue spirit. 

“It was all done at last minute, so it’s not perfect-”

“It’s more than perfect.” Zuko corrects. “Thank you, Katara.” He wraps an arm around her neck and brings her to him, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Mine is perfect too, Mommy! I want to kiss you too.”

Katara laughs, puckering her lips and letting Izumi peck them. The waterbender then snatches Izumi to her chest, displaying kisses all over the little girl's face as Zuko does the same until she begs for her parents to stop in a fit of laughter. 

I love you. Zuko wants to say. The moment passes, he realizes, watching Katara rock Izumi in her arms with pure love in her eyes. He’ll tell her. Someday. 

[prose-for-hire]

An impassioned debate

Pairing: Giles x Spike (”platonic” but they’re arguing lol)

Request: Spike & Giles bicker fest a la missing moments from when they were housemates, please?

Requested by: @staycalmandbeafan 

Warning: Sex references.

A/N: Sometimes when I write I assume the attitude of one of the characters. Therefore, Spike doesn’t always appear in a good light lol (It was fun to write though and I got a little carried away sorry) 💜🖤

Giles liked to live alone.

He had grown up living with his parents. He had roommates in university. He even flat-shared in the communal house him and the friends he hung around at the time broke into and claimed as their own in his early twenties.

And that, is exactly how Giles knew he liked to live alone. Some days he could barely tolerate the young people that no matter how fond of them he was, would go on about pointless and often arbitrary nonsense in his presence.

His home then, became his sanctuary. A place where he could shut out the world.

That was until one fateful day in the all-too recent past. Thanksgiving day. A day where the Americans gave thanks for the parts of their lives they are grateful for. He thought he ought to partake in tradition and suggested how grateful he was for Buffy and the others.

A silent, more self-indulgent thanks was to the peace and quiet he would get at the end of the day. His house to himself, not shackled by parents. Kept up all hours by housemates or forced into copious amounts of overly emotional performance at the hands of the well-intentioned Americans.

This silent thought was shattered as a thud at the door announced an unwelcome visitor.

That’s how Giles ended up with a new houseguest. The vampire chained to his tub. A tub he had been very fond of until Spike had come in and ruined with his stench. He was probably the only person that smelt this bad after spending this amount of time in the bathtub.

It would be fair to say that Giles hadn’t been a very welcoming host, but to put it in context, despite being ‘harmless’ Spike had tried to bite Giles not once, but twice. Upon the first attempt being a near-miss and the second ending in blinding pain for the corpse-faced lunatic, he had the gall to tell Giles that he would taste like a dried up old prune anyway.

There was also the incident on Thanksgiving day itself where he managed to eat half a plate of cookies before anyone had the chance to stop him. A miraculous feat when you note that his hands and feet were bound tight.

These were, for the most part issues that Giles could look past. Especially now he was sure that Spike was unable to actually harm him. But what he couldn’t get past were, well, every other area that involved living with Spike.

The issues could be divided as such: Eating habits; sleeping habits; general depravity and what one could only describe as ‘The Passions debate’.

We should probably begin with the sleeping habits:

Or lack thereof. Spike was cat-like in the sense that he didn’t usually get a full night’s, or days, sleep. He tended to sleep a couple hours here or there seemingly whenever he pleased. Which meant that when he was tied up after dark, the vampire had a whole lot of thoughts and nowhere else to go so he seemingly spoke them out loud.

Giles tossed and turned in his bed desperately clinging to sleep, able for the most part to ignore the constant babbling of Spike’s innermost thoughts. Which actually amounted to shagged someone, shagged someone oh I drank some blood, shagged someone.

It was utterly mind numbing and Giles was beginning to feel that should he ever get out of this arrangement alive he would look into finding a house in the middle of a deserted island. Never to return to civilisation.

Giles managed to mostly ignore the fanged menace. Until the singing started. Or, what Giles would only call tuneless hollering. He butchered every punk song known to man and some surprisingly sugary pop ballads that Giles wouldn’t dare comment on, less he revealed that he himself knew the songs lyrics too.

He actually started singing to pass the time, it was lyrical to begin with but as the night wore on he started to shout the words, the tune lost. Sacrificed to a greater goal. Irritation.

He grinned when Giles padded downstairs to try to silence the din.

“Alright, Rupert? Here for dinner and a show?”

“I’m going to gag you” Giles warned. Something they had already had numerous arguments over.

“Well, you’re really gonna have to take me out to that dinner then” Spike smirked at Giles’ disdain for his words, moving his head slightly at the man’s reaction.

“Will you shut up! For God’s sake, man, be quiet!” Giles shouted, sleep-deprivation and living with someone that had more fangs than brains made him more and more irate. It made Spike smile even further, his next words making Giles about three seconds from throttling him (which, wouldn’t have killed him but it would have been very satisfying for Giles).

“Well, seein’ as you’re awake and all and got nothing better to do, be a love and get me some blood?” Spike cackled. Giles stopped himself from going near Spike and instead trailed to the kitchen, hoping it would at least shut him up for five minutes.

Which brings us nicely along to eating habits:

“I like a bit of texture in it!” Spike had shouted one morning. His blood was steaming but Giles had returned back into the kitchen with it to add something to try and get a moment’s peace.

He had been playing a very enjoyable game of see how many times he can send the same mug of blood back before Giles realised he was only doing it to annoy him. The highest score had been 3 times and only, in Giles’ defence, because the man hadn’t been properly awake that morning.

Giles had hit Spike twice (which was very tame considering the horror that was a feral vampire that wasn’t used to being in a domestic setting). Once because of the aforementioned incident and the second time after a particularly heated debate that we will discuss later.

Spike had been lounging on the sofa again, getting crumbs all over his chair. Giles swung his feet and made him sit up as he spoke.

“Will you bloody-”

“Oh don’t start conjuring those sweet massacres in my mind, Rupes, makes a fella’s hunger unbearable” He rubbed his stomach that did in fact appear to be gurgling at the mere mention of the word.

Spike, when he was allowed out of his restraints and Giles saw it was too much like hard work to be waiting on Spike all of the time, began to make his own meals. Which, really, just created more of a mess. And a distinct lack of Weetabix around the house.

He created the worst combinations known to man, sometimes to annoy Giles and other times to just see how it went. He sprayed cans of whipped cream in his mouth left over from Thanksgiving, ate crackers with every topping he found in the house and made sure to use the least amount of manners as possible whilst doing so.

Which brings us onto the section Giles would entitle, Spike’s ‘generally depraved character’:

Giles was still in the habit of tying Spike up at night, but he had subsequently allowed him to walk around in the day after a while.

There had been one evening where Spike ran through the entire house, struggling at every turn so that Giles couldn’t tie him up again. He was bored and it was fun making the human chase him. Eventually he was cuffed and tied to his chair and left there through the day so that it didn’t happen again.

Luckily, Spike had gotten bored of that game and just let Giles tie him up at night again now. Not without comment, of course.

“Call that a knot? I’ve had tighter curls, mate” Spike rolled his eyes as Giles looked over the glasses perching on the end of his nose. He then reached and tightened the knot by a lot making Spike yelp and scowl at him.

“Hey! You can’t just leave me like this – I’m getting’ rope burn here!” he shouted as he struggled, thus giving himself worse rope burn.

“Ah, yes and what’re you going to do about it, Spike, hm? Serenade me to death?” Giles rolled his eyes in disdain. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his position with a scowl stamped on his face. 

He watched Giles get back to reading his paper. He let him get a few lines in before he interrupted him this time.

“Not exactly the five star digs I’m used to” Spike said which made Giles scoff. He had seen many of the places Spike had called home and none of them were fit for burying a corpse in let alone housing a living one.

“I can untie you and you can just leave, Spike, I’m sure burning to a crisp would really show me what for” Giles muttered, focusing on the paper he had been trying to read.

“Oh, I see you. Thinking you’re better than me – smarter. Anyone can read books, they don’t make it their whole sodding personality. You’re a good ol’ British stereotype, Rupes,”

“Ah, yes, well, many people can read Spike but it takes a particularly impervious individual to be so oblivious to their own misgivings that they result in insulting themselves in the same breath as their foe”

Spike rolled his eyes at the use of the word ‘foe’ but kept silent for a while. It was a rare silence and Giles made the most of it. Savoured it. He wasn’t sure if it was the big words that had evaded him or just the fact that his insult had resonated. But he didn’t say these thoughts out loud, less he would have to listen to Spike’s sparkling wit.

However, lo and behold, Spike suddenly spoke up again. 

“You know what I miss?” Spike asked, leaving Giles sighing audibly and putting his unread book back down. He had tried several times to read the same line.

“No, but I assume that you’re about to enlighten me”

“Civil wars”

“What?!” Giles asked incredulously, taking his glasses from his face just so he didn’t have to look at the vampire who appeared to be staring up at the ceiling and reminiscing.

“Yeah” No nodded, “There’s just something about a civil war… could be the fear. Aphrodisiac, it is”

“I’m not sure I agree-”

“Probably ‘cause you’d be the one doing the fearing you great ponce”

“Now-” Giles was ready to launch into a barrage of insults, using all of his wit to ground Spike into the pile of dust and ash he was destined to be. But then, he took a breath. He decided to hit Spike where it hurt, “That’s it! No more television”

“What?!” Spike shouted, his eyes bulging in horror, “You can’t do that, I’m dyin’ here gramps-!”

“You’re already dead”

“Yeah, well, now I’m rotting away here with the living. I mean, you’ve aged – I saw your graduation photo in the hall. It’s like lookin’ in a particularly haunting mirror when I see you” Spike spoke smugly of the way his face hadn’t aged despite being older than Giles.

There was a stony silence for a while. Giles went quiet. When Giles went quiet, he was mad. The kind that could become insidious. His fists curled and his mind raced. Blood pumping hot around his body.

But, after a moment, he resolved himself. Spike wasn’t worth Ripper making an appearance. No, Spike wasn’t worth anything.

“Why don’t you read something, or perhaps figure out how to count past two?” Giles offered, stepping away from where the tv was now staying off. Spike’s face turned sour at the prospect of another afternoon with his thoughts.

“How about four?” Spike asked, flipping the v’s with both arms raised at the man who looked like he was about to thump his guest yet again.

“You’re a piece of work, Spike”

“Thanks” Spike nodded, still looking at Giles expectantly, waiting for the television to be turned back on. But when he turned way and started to look busy Spike’s mood changed.

“Come on, it’s telly time!” Spike shouted but Giles just took his jacket and left the house for the rest of the day. Leaving Spike bored and trying to avoid the patches of sunlight where Giles had ‘accidentally’ opened some of the curtains on different levels of the house.

When Giles eventually began to turn the television back on for Spike, it leads us on to ‘The Passions debate’:

“Are you blind willingly or are you truly this ignorant?!” Giles shouted, his words directed at Spike but his eyes were glued to the screen. No matter how much he had fought it, Giles had been well and truly sucked into the fictional world.

“Don’t be a bloody idiot! It’s clear as sodding day that they’re meant to be together” Spike gestured wildly at the screen.

“Their relationship is forced – there is no real meaning there!” Giles insisted, much like most shows on television in his opinion.

“You got it all wrong - it’s fate, destiny or any of that bollocks”

“Ah, yes, that would be the latter”

“Don’t be daft, Ripper – have you seen them?! Pure chemistry. Nobody can act that good either, they’re shagging behind the scenes – mark my words”

“You really are as perceptive as a wooden spoon, Spike” Giles berated him.

“That’s rot, that is! They’re shagging no two ways about it”

“Two people can have chemistry and maintain a platonic relationship” Spike raised an eyebrow at him and Giles had become heated in the debate, “They are not bloody shagging!”

“Aw, does it bother you that fictional characters are getting more action than you?” Spike mock-pouted. Trying to rile the man up further. This was where it descended into chaos.

“Ah, fortunately I’m satisfied in the knowledge that there will always be someone that is worse-off than myself” Giles paused before asking, “Is Drusilla well?”

“Bugger off! That was low for an ex-watcher who gets all his happy feelings from a group of school children” Spike pounced on him, going for the jugular, “You spend an embarrassing amount of time with dear Buffy. I wonder, what could you be doin’ behind closed-”

Spike was cut off by a blow to his face. It sent him flying backwards and splintered the wooden chair he had been sat on into pieces.

“Out!” Giles demanded, face like thunder, “Out before I do something I wouldn’t regret!”

Both Spike and Giles eyed the weapons chest that was on the floor between them before looking back at the other. Both were trying to calculate how long it would take the other to get there. After a moment, Spike got to his feet and just slinked off to a different corner of the house until he got hungry and Giles went to walk off his anger.

That had been the last straw. Soon after this particular incident, Spike was shipped off the Xander’s basement. Giles finally got his house back. His wooden chair however, unfortunately never recovered.

[step-on-me-khun]

Right By Your Side

SFW/NSFW:

Warnings: Angst, major character death

Word Count: 1828

I got this idea from listening to a particular song, and I actually got a bit emotional writing it, make of that what you will, sorry you’re getting angst on Valentine’s Day. This will be posted on ao3 when I wake up as it’s just past midnight

Fighting would sometimes result in death, in some form of graphic or unseen injuries. It's always difficult to ensure everyone's safety, to predict any unknown opponents strengths or weaknesses. Would this fight produce someone's death, or would a serious injury be its result?

Blue eyes opened, the feeling of being numb spread throughout Khun's body. A sudden sharp pain was felt in his head as he sat himself up. The metallic taste of blood was in his mouth.

He thought he had dreamt it all, his imagination getting a good, tight hold on his brain and playing tricks on him. But this was all real. The surroundings were painted red with blood, the bodies of strangers lying lifeless on the ground. Some had been impaled, others decapitated. It was all so brutal and horrific.

This was a massacre, but he felt unsure as to who had started it. Very few of the bodies around him were breathing, and some of them were only just taking their last breaths.

It unsettled Khun. His heartbeat rocketing as the looked around, trying to pinpoint any familiar face. But it all seemed worthless, everyone around him was nothing more than strangers to him. He couldn't see Shibisu, or Endorsi, or even Baam. Panic and dread swept through him, from his head down to his feet, sending a shiver through him.

He wanted to run, to find the team that had been separated. But Baam was the only person his mind was on. The more he thought about the situation, the more the panic blocked out everything else.

Why couldn't his damn feet move? This was just so fucking stupid, no previous fight had conjured up this amount of fear in him, so why was this so different? Was it that he didn't know Baam's current location? I wasn't just that, he wanted to know how badly he was injured. He wanted to heal him. But with time passing him by, and his thought processes going into overdrive, any injury Baam would have got could have gotten worse.

These damn voices in his head, reassuring him that Baam was okay, made him want to just shout out to shut the fuck up. His sanity was being tested every single second he stood there.

"Khun!" Shibisu shouts from a distance, snapping Khun out of his thoughts and panic.

"Sh-Shibisu," Khun's low voice says softly.

Shibisu's silhouette got closer and closer, revealing Hatz, who was on Shibisu's back, unconscious. The lower left leg of his tracksuit bottoms shredded, his leg all bloodied.

"What happened here? Either I've forgotten, or this all happened so suddenly,"

"I have no idea, maybe something's messing with our memories,"

"Figures you'd be alive, earrings," Hatz says hoarsely, his consciousness returning to him.

Khun smirks smugly at Hatz. "I was going to say the same thing about you," Khun says sarcastically.

"By the way," Shibisu starts, distracting Khun slightly from his thoughts, "you've not seen anyone else have you? I've only found Endorsi and Hockney, and they said that they saw the rest of the group other than Baam,"

Khun's eyes widened, and his feet ran as fas as he could.

"Hey, wait a minute, Khun!" Shibisu shouts, but it wasn't enough to stop Khun from rushing forward, his fear and anxiety overwhelming.

There were too many people around, too many bodies covered with their own blood. Everything around him made him assume the worst.

Shibisu hadn't seen him, no message had been sent to his pocket. Damn it, he just wanted reassurance that Baam was still alive, and still breathing, he would dread Baam losing a single ounce of blood. As determined at Baam was, Khun was worried that he'd get into a situation that would prompt him to give his life because of his stubborn nature.

Baam, don't you dare be dead. Khun thought he had lost him once, and had to try to survive without him, god forbid he ever lose him again, permanently.

The sight of blood around him felt like the sea, a never-ending ocean of despair and fear. He felt as if he was going to be swallowed by his fear.

He took the chance to stand still, catching his breath. A single tear dropped from his eye, trailing down slowly, then dropped to the floor, his eyes caught a glimpse of it as it fell.

When was the last time he cried over Baam? It must've been years ago when he thought that Baam was dead. He spent that night bawling his eyes out quietly like a baby. He pride made sure that that tear was the only one that fell from his sapphire orbs.

"I'm never going to find him in this mess," Khun complains silently, his feet running again.

Was this pointless? It is worth trying to find him? Yes, and yes, it didn't matter what others had said to Khun in the past, what that Silver Dwarf said to him, even if Baam does get strong and more powerful than him, Khun would always follow. Baam wasn't pointless or worthless at all, even if Khun was, he just wanted to be by his side. It was paining him to imagine Baam lying in a pool of his own blood, the light from his eyes fading away.

The more he ran, the less amount of people he saw, and most importantly, his eyes perceiving them as not that injured at all. It gave him just a slither of hope that Baam was okay, and that he would eventually find him.

It didn't matter how long it would take him, he wasn't giving up until he found Baam alive. Every happy memory, every smile of his, it made it harder for him to want to give up on his search. Those smiles and memories were what he would live for. If he could sacrifice his life to make sure Baam was safe, he gladly would.

His eyes continued to scour around while he ran, trying to find a single trace of Baam. He stood still for a moment as his eyes focused on something in the distance. It seemed familiar to you Khun, his instinct driving him to run towards it.

Time stood still as he saw a body lying there, blood staining the floor around it. Yet it still felt familiar, there was a looming sense of dread for some unknown reason. The reason comes to him quickly once he realises it was a body. Not just anyone's body, but Baam's.

Khun's heart dropped to the floor. He gave into his fear and urged his feet to move faster. But the more he ran, the further away he felt Baam was. His heart was breaking with every second, keeping his tears in until he knew for sure it was Baam, and not some lookalike.

His feet slower down as he approaches the body, eye gazing at it, hoping it was all a horrible nasty dream and Baam wasn't lying there.

He was on his side, facing away from Khun, who couldn't even see his face.

"Baam," Khun says, his voice shaking, "oh, god, please be alive." If he believed in any god at all, he would pray, his desperate fear would resort to that if it ever came to it, and it felt like his last resort was near.

"K-Khun," Baam's voice says, hoarse and breathy.

He wanted it to be a dream, he so desperately wanted it to be a dream. Fear was keeping him still, it was stopping him from falling to the floor, and his tears from spilling a river in front of him.

His feet brought him forward, towards the body of Baam, which was heaving from his struggling breaths. Walking slowly in front of him, he could see just how injured Baam was. But was it too late to use the firefish on him? Khun hoped he wasn't too late.

"You always end up getting yourself in some sort of trouble," Khun says, his voice trembling. His pale hand reached for Baam's.

Baam's eyes open slowly, his near lifeless eyes looking into Khun's sorrow-filled ones. He smiles a little at Khun.

"You knew that, and you still decided to follow me," he comments.

"I'll always follow you Baam," Khun says, squeezing Baam's hand.

"Mmm," Baam moans out in pain, "you're holding my hand a little too tightly,"

Khun bit his lip as he watched Baam's eyes closely, not wanting them to close for even a second.

"Anything to keep you conscious,"

Every moan and groan of pain Baam let out made Khun feel physically sick. He didn't want to lose him, but that possibility could edge closer and closer by the second.

Baam's golden eyes slowly drifted closed.

"No, no, no. Don't you dare close your eyes," Khun says loudly, "I need you here, we all need you,"

Baam struggles to keep his eyes open, his head turns to Khun, his neck injury becoming more prevalent.

"Why didn't you call for me, I'd have come in a heartbeat,"

"I didn't want you to get hurt," he was struggling more and more to breathe, "I'm grateful that you're always there, but I couldn't watch you get hurt,"

All of Khun's emotions came out at once. Tears spilt from his eyes as he clutched Baam's hand tighter.

"You're not going to die dammit, you can't," Khun cries.

"I don't think even you can stop that from happening, Khun," Baam says as he feels the firefish trying to heal him, "goodbye, Khun,"

"I told you, you're not going to die, stop being so stubborn damn it,"

His eyes continued to drift closed, then would flutter open slowly again. Even his eyes and skin were becoming lifeless.

"I love you too much to let you go," Khun says.

Baam's hand slowly slithers out of Khun's and reaches up to Khun's face, his thumb wiping the tears away.

"Thanks for being there, Khun, you've always meant the world to me,"

"Baam, don't, you're not doing this to me, not now,"

"I love you too, Khun,"

Baam's hand falls from Khun's face, the sound of Baam's limb on the ground travelled to his ear.

He was dead, that was it. Khun had no other reason to live, to fight or get stronger. Baam was everything to him, and now that everything had just vanished.

Baam's lifeless body sat beside him. He could hear footsteps approaching, his eye look over at Shibisu, who had finally caught up with him.

"He's dead, Shibisu," Khun says, struggling to hold his tears in any longer, "he's fucking dead and it's my fault,"

"Khun, it wasn't your fault, he tried to save us," Shibisu says.

Khun's hand reaches towards Baam's again, holding onto it tightly. It wasn't right, it wasn't real. Baam's lifeless body was beside him, and damn, did he want to hold onto him one last time. He would have always stayed right by Baam's side.

[fuckingthefictional]

sorry to bother but i have a request, could you write a peter parker! x reader, with the reader being the protégé or adopted daughter of the strange doctor? I searched a lot but I didn't find

Must be magic.

Peter Parker x Strange!Reader

Requested: Yes by @celenajulie

A/N: hope you enjoy this! I tried my best- and there will be a part 2 out soon, where Y/N introduces Peter to her dad, stay safe out there! Xx

Y/N never knew her birth parents, she had only been a mere few hours old when she had been left outside of a New York orphanage.

The owners took her in, fed her and let her grow. She was a generally happy baby.

Until one day, a few months later, Y/N took a turn for the worst. She was no longer that happy girl with the gummy smile, she wasn’t herself.

She slept more, she cried more, she vomited more despite eating less and she didn’t interact with the social workers at the house like she used to. She just wasn’t herself.

Soon they found out why. Y/N had a brain tumour, the doctors called it pineoblastoma.

It was rare, it was aggressive and it was killing the young infant- causing her to waste away.

There were several options, the majority of which were expensive and risky. The staff at the orphanage were considering placing Y/N into the care of a hospice.

After all, time was limited and their options were coming to dead ends. What else could they do? They needed a miracle, a doctor something magical if Y/N was to survive and thrive again.

-

Christine Palmer loved her job, she loved the idea of caring and helping those who needed her support.

It didn’t matter what age, gender, sexuality or race someone was- she tried 110% to help them to the best of her ability.

Some said that she cared too much, Christine opted towards the fact that compassion was key in the medical industry. And anyone who lacked it, wasn’t cut out for this line of work.

Compassion was what lead Christine to Y/N.

God- she could still remember the first time she’d met the tiny girl.

It had been in the early hours of the morning, the rain had been hammering down for hours and all had been relatively quiet in ER.

Christine remembered going to the vending machine in the waiting room on her break, in hopes to get a snack.

What she hadn’t expected was to become involved in a small dispute. There had been a small altercation that she had decided to step in between.

It seemed to of been between one of the ladies at the front desk and a tall, slender woman- who Christine had at first assumed to be a wife or parent of a patient.

It wasn’t until the young woman inquired why the argument had begun that she finally understood and jumped into action.

“It’s one of the children that I care for, Y/N- last month we were here and she was diagnosed with a brain tumour, we’ve been getting treatment but she’s taken a turn for the worse.”

It was almost immediately that Nurse Palmer jumped into action and called for support on her pager.

It took mere seconds for a doctor to come forward with the required equipment and a portable bassinet to wheel the baby away in.

But there was a nagging feeling in the back of Christine's head, she needed to call him. Just to be sure, to get support and a second opinion.

Without a second thought, she picked her phone from her scrub pocket and pressed the dial button, it rang for a second before a voice chimed through the other side.

“Christine it’s two in the morning.”

“You owe me that favour- come to the hospital now, I need support on a patient’s case.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Okay.” She paused, licking her lips. “And Stephen- thank you.”

-

It had been an ongoing gag between Stephen and Christine that he owed her a favour.

Ever since the incident in med school, Stephen vowed to give his friend one favour- whenever she needed it, whatever it was- he would be there.

That was why he was getting dressed into his scrubs at 2:30 in the morning (when his next shift didn’t start for another day) in order to help Christine with whatever it was she needed.

When Stephen arrived at the hospital he rushed to where Christine said to meet, Paediatric intensive care unit.

He strolled in, finding Christine sat on a chair next to a tiny infant, no less than a few months old, who was covered in fresh wires.

“She has pineoblastoma.” She explained softly, “You’re the only one I know who can operate and get positive results on this sort of thing.”

Stephen nodded, formulating a plan in his head as he read the baby’s case file.

The poor child had been through a lot in her first few months of life it seemed.

And the doctor didn’t know it yet - but he would soon become her proper family, and give her the life she deserved.

-

It was weird being the daughter of a master of the mystic realm. Like really weird. Nothing was ever ‘normal’ in her life.

Travelling to the grocery store? Her dad would simply use his sling ring.

Wouldn’t get out of bed? The cloak of levitation would drag her out if her dad willed it.

Wanted a slice of pizza? Sure- Wong would just conjure one up.

She lived in the New York Sanctum Sanctorum for crying out loud that didn’t exactly scream normal!

The only thing that may have been normal was her school life, Midtown school of science was perfect for Y/N.

She took after her father on that, she was smart and bright and loved to learn.

In fact, there had been many occasions growing up that she had been caught under the covers, flashlight in hand, reading her dad's old medical school textbooks.

But just because she was bright, didn’t mean that she made friends easily. Being smart often meant she was teased by her peers- it didn’t help that her last name was Strange either.

She had some friends on the debate team (MJ being one of them) and she talked to Peter and Ned too sometimes.

But half the time Y/N avoided it, after all, she’d rather not listen to her long term crush go on and on about how he loved the most popular girl in school.

It was painful- that stuff hurt. And every time she thought she’d taken a step forwards toward him he’d take three more back.

“Miss Strange?”

Y/N focused back in on the whiteboard, in front of which stood the extremely unimpressed bio teacher.

“Pardon?”

“The answer Miss Strange?” The teacher turned around, marker poised ready to write down her answer on the board for the class to see.

Thankfully MJ was up to date and mouthed the question number across the room. Looking down at the sheet in front of her she found the relevant question.

‘Name an example of a gene pool.’

“A population with a known proportion of A, B and O blood groups would be an example of a relevant gene pool.”

The teacher looked unimpressed at the fact that Y/N had been ‘listening’, “That is correct.” He cleared his throat, “Now before this lesson ends, I will be handing out these assignment sheets that are to be used for your upcoming projects- yes, you will be doing them with your lab partner. No-you cannot switch.”

Fuck that meant Peter was going to be Y/N’s partner. Double fuck. That meant spending time alone with him.

While Y/N pondered in her doom, the lunch bell rang and everyone moved around her as they packed up and left the classroom.

“Hey erm Y/N?”

The teenager’s head snapped up, only to come face to face with Peter.

“Peter!” She yelped, “Hi.”

The boy laughed breathily, “Hi, listen since we’re buddy’s on this project i was wondering when you were next free- Y’know to do the project?”

Y/N tucked some stray hairs behind her ears, “Oh I’m free whenever,” she ripped the corner of one of her pages off and scribbled down her number, “This is my number in case you need to call me.”

“Cool,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I should get going- it was nice talking.”

“Yeah of course,” she nodded happily, “I’ll see you later.”

Mere minutes later there was a beep coming from Y/N’s pocket, she fished around in her pocket in an attempt to find her phone.

‘Hey this is peter, are you free to make a start on the project afterschool?’

She typed a quick response back, ‘Sure, where were you thinking?’

‘The library is probably most convenient right?’

‘Okay cool, I’ll see you later.’

By the end of the day, Y/N found herself practically bouncing at the idea of spending time with Peter alone.

She’d managed to snag a table and the required textbooks that they’d need. But minutes turned into hours and there was no sight of the boy that Y/N was falling for.

He’d stood her up.

Or at least that’s what Y/N had initially thought. but as the clock struck half-past five, she was aware that it was time she made her way home.

Despite his no show, the bright girl was almost entirely finished with the first half of the project.

She was in the process of exiting the library’s doors when she heard the familiar laugh paired with a high pitched giggle.

“Seriously though- Thanks for helping me with Chem.” The female voice countered, “I’d be lost without you.”

Y/N was flat backed to the cool, red bricks that made up the library building. Listening in to what was being said.

“No problem Liz,” Peter laughed nervously, Y/N could almost imagine the awkward neck rub that he did whenever he laughed like that, “I really enjoyed it- I-I’m glad I could help.”

So it was Liz that Peter stood her up with. Ouch- that stung.

The sorcerer's daughter felt tears drip down her cheeks, she sniffled quietly and kicked off the wall brushing past Peter and Liz briskly.

But all she could hear was Peter’s voice calling behind her. Shouting desperately for her to stop and let him explain.

But she did what she knew best, she went home to her family.

-

The next few days fell victim to the onslaught of messages that Peter sent to Y/N via text.

Even the sounds of her phone buzzing were beginning to set Y/N on edge. Especially since she knew that the notification coming through would be from Peter, begging to let him ‘explain.’

But once more in true Strange fashion, Y/N worked and worked and worked. Until the bio project was finished- almost four weeks in advance.

The way she saw it was that If the work had been completed, then there was no real to hang out with Peter ever again.

He, however, didn’t seem to have the same idea. As 3 weeks later on Monday, Peter had resorted to cornering the girl in the school's supply closet.

He didn’t want to do it, but Y/N gave him no choice. Peter had to explain himself.

“Peter- what the hell?” Y/N yelped, she was beyond pissed at this point.

“You haven’t been returning my texts and calls,” he shrugged, “I need to explain myself.”

“Like hell you do.” She spat, “Look it doesn’t matter, I’ve finished the damn project- we don’t need to see each other again.”

Peter looked shocked and there was hurt in his eyes, “Y/N...”

“What do you want me to say, Peter? That I’m not hurt?” She pursed her lips to stop the tears from leaking, “You left me for hours in the library all while you were having fun with Liz- how is that fair?”

“Please don’t cry,” He whispered, pulling her into his body in an embrace, “I can’t stand it when you cry.”

“You left me alone Peter!” She fought against his embrace, “Like everyone in my life!”

Peter held Y/N against him, rubbing her back and shushing her. Trying anything to bring her calm.

“I got nervous.”

Y/N lifted her head, “What?”

“I got nervous- I’ve- I’ve liked you for forever y’know. I was outside the library for 10 minutes willing myself to go in.” He laughed softly, “But every time I saw you sat there- I just froze.”

The young girl looked up in shock, “But-But Liz?”

“I was about to get reprimanded for loitering, she got me out of the situation. I was going to call you but my phone died.”

Y/N didn’t realise how close together they were until their foreheads touched and their noses bumped.

It felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. It was ironic really because when they finally met in a kiss it felt like all time had stopped.

She could feel every touch on her cheeks, his hair and how it ran through her fingers, how minty he smelt. Everything stood still and for a few moments, you had everything you’d ever wanted in the palm of your hand.

What Y/N had failed to notice was the glowing golden portal that had appeared in the supply closet- even worse the thoroughly unimpressed man standing through it.

“Y/N Strange you are so dead!”

“Shit!”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXXV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: :c

Words: 4,500

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Battle of the Department of Mysteries.

The group divided in two and she was leading Ron, Luna and Ginny without having a clue of where to run next. 

Rodolphus Lestrange suddenly appeared ahead and she silently raised her wand, shooting a bolt of purple lightning directly into his chest.

"You know nonverbal spells?" Ginny panted.

"She can do that since our third-year," Ron responded. "Don't stop running! — Stupefy!"

"And you decide to use them until now?!"

"I've been using them all the time!" Mel argued, shooting towards another Death Eater. "But I'm obviously not going to walk around announcing it!"

She cleared the way and pushed Ginny and Luna through the door, then Ron pushed her and before he could close the door a dark something hit the side of his head and the boy stumbled back. Mel slammed the door close as Ron fell flat on the spot, she kneeled beside him.

She shook his shoulders but nothing happened. Ginny shouted something about footsteps getting closer. Mel pointed to his chest and used a reviving spell to bring him back, Ron's eyes sort of cleared, but only for the briefest moment, he stared at her with a stupid smile.

"Haha... Mel," He giggled. "You have two heads..."

"Great," She groaned. "He's been confunded... At least he's awake — We need to move."

"You go ahead, Luna and I will carry him," Ginny replied, grabbing her brother.

Mel advanced carefully and as quickly as she could, a new pair of death eaters ran into the room and started to throw curses. One charged up to her, caught off guard by his sudden actions, she fell backwards and cut her face with the edge of a table.

"Get off!" She shouted, placing both hands on the man's chest. A burst of energy sent him flying across the room. Mel wasted no time, the other death eater was fighting with Ginny and Luna.

"Reducto!"

The shelf next to him exploded, giving the girls enough time to push Ron out of the way. Mel grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the next room, closely followed by Ginny and Luna.

The group ran all together into the next room. Mel suddenly felt her feet being lifted from the ground.

"Space," She gasped.

But this couldn't be the real thing, since she could breathe and the planets were all her size.

"Avada —"

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted Luna.

Ron was floating around and having a laughing fit; she pushed to get closer to the boy and shield him. A planet exploded a few feet away, she landed on top of Ron, who laughed louder.

"My foot!" Ginny growled behind her.

Mel pushed the hair out of her face.

"Take Ron, you three keep going —"

"But —"

"Do as I say!" Mel yelled as she lifted Ron from the ground with Luna's help. "I don't need to use my wand!"

Ginny ran to the door, broken ankle and everything. Mel forced Luna to walk out of there with Ron, and with both hands, she conjured a stunning spell strong enough to hit the three remaining men. She didn't wait to see the results and turned around, rushing out of the room and slamming the door close.

"Ginny?" Harry's voice took her by surprise. "What happened?"

Ginny fell to the ground and held her leg tightly, Mel walked up to her and crouched.

"Ferula!" She exclaimed, Ginny's ankle quickly got wrapped in bandages.

"I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack," Luna explained. "Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets, it was a very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark —"

"Harry, we saw Uranus up close!" said Ron. "Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus — ha ha ha —"

"What happened to you?" Erick asked when he saw her. "You have a huge cut on your —"

"Doesn't matter," She moved his hand away from her face.

"It does matter!"

"Everyone here is hurt!" She replied harshly. "You have a massive cut on your lip — Neville, dear Merlin, Neville's got his nose broken and — What's wrong with Hermione?" Mel walked up to her unconscious friend.

"And what about Ron?" Harry asked them, holding Ron so he wouldn't fall.

"I don't know what they hit him with," said Luna, "but he's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get him along at all... Mel woke him up — It's been lucky that she was with us, she took down three of them at once."

"Harry," Ron snorted, "you know who this girl is, Harry? She's Loony... Loony Lovegood... ha ha ha..."

"We've got to get out of here," said Harry. "Luna, can you help Ginny?"

"Yes," said Luna.

"It's only my ankle, I can do it myself! Mel fixed it!" But even with all the fixing, Ginny couldn't stand on her own.

Harry tugged Ron's arm over his shoulders. Neville pulled Hermione closer and Erick quickly approached to help him. Mel was the only one left who still had no extra weight to carry.

An invisible mantle had fallen onto her unexpectedly, now it was her duty to make sure everyone would leave this place in one piece. She almost wanted to fall to her knees and cry like a baby, she knew that people would eventually need her to lead, but it had been too soon, too sudden.

"There they are!" Bellatrix yelled.

Mel lifted a big magical division between them.

"GO!"

Harry kicked another door open and went inside, closely followed by Erick, Neville and Hermione. Mel started to walk backwards as Luna helped Ginny move forward, trying to maintain the spell for a bit longer. Two figures appeared on her sides, Erick and Harry were back in the room, helping her keep the protection. As soon as they reached the door, Erick yelled 'Now!' and the three of them ran for it.

"Colloportus!" Harry shouted, just in time to hear the adults crash into the entrance.

"It doesn't matter! There are other ways in — WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!"

"Decide quickly!" Mel yelled. "We can seal all the doors or run, but we have to do it now!"

"We keep going, but we seal half of these first. You and Erick watch over the others," Harry said. "Luna — Neville — help me!"

The three of them tore around the room, sealing the doors as they went: Harry crashed into a table and rolled over the top of it in his haste to reach the next door.

"Colloportus!"

There were footsteps running along behind the doors; every now and then another heavy body would launch itself against one, so it creaked and shuddered. Luna and Neville were bewitching the doors along the opposite wall — then, as Harry reached the very top of the room, he heard Luna cry, "Collo — aaaaaaaaargh..."

"Get Potter!" Bellatrix shouted.

"Stupefy!" Mel said, hitting another death eater across the chest.

"Hey!" said Ron, somehow he'd escaped Erick and Mel's protection. "Hey, Harry, there are brains in here, ha ha ha, isn't that weird, Harry?"

"Ron, get out of the way, get down —"

"Honest, Harry, they're brains — look — Accio Brain!"

"DON'T—" Erick started, but it was too late.

"Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it —" said Ron, watching it disgorge its gaudy innards. "Harry, come and touch it, bet it's weird —"

"RON, NO!"

"Harry, look what's happen — no — no, I don't like it — no, stop — stop —" The tentacles wrapped around his arms and quickly crawled up his chest.

"Diffindo!" yelled Harry.

"Harry, it'll suffocate him!" shouted Ginny, before she could reach her brother a spell got her and she fell unconscious on the ground.

Erick did one swift movement with his wand and the death eater who'd gotten Ginny flew back against the wall.

"STUBEFY!" shouted Neville. "STUBEFY, STUBEFY !"

"Immobulus!"

Mel got the brain around Ron's torso. The thing stopped at once and fell limply on the ground, but Ron was half-gone already. Only Mel, Erick, Harry and Neville remained.

"We cover," Mel said. "You and Neville run."

"But —"

"I can do more than you," She said tensely. "Protect that bloody orb — Do what I say."

Harry and Neville ran while Mel and Erick shot at the adults all the curses they could remember. Some of them bounced on the walls and she realized how dangerous this could be for her fallen friends. She had no option but to follow Harry and Neville so this room could be left alone.

They were back in the room with the stone archway, Harry stumbled down and Neville was nowhere to be seen, the terror in Mel's body started to show through her magic, thin dark lines started to spread around the back of her hands.

"Children, your race is run," Lucius Malfoy pulled off his cloak. "Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy..."

"Let — let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" Harry panted.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter. You see, there are ten of us and only three of you... or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?"

"There's ford obf us!" Neville shouted from the top of the stairs.

"And I can assure you Dumbledore taught me way more than just numbers," Mel replied, holding her wand firmly.

"Neville — no — go back to Ron —" Harry urged desperately.

"STUBEFY!" Neville shouted, trying to take down as many people as possible, "STUBEFY ! STUBE —"

One man launched over him and seized his arms behind his back.

"It's Longbottom, isn't it? Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause... Your death will not come as a great shock..." Lucius started.

"Longbottom?" Bellatrix asked in delight. "Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy..."

"I DOE YOU HAB!"

"Someone Stun him!"

"No, no, no... No, let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents... Unless Potter, Dumbledore and the traitor want to give us the prophecy —"

"DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!" roared Neville, she would've been proud hadn't been for the fact that they were all about to die. "DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!"

"Crucio!"

Neville fell to the floor in agony, Erick tried to curse Bellatrix, but four different death eaters attacked at once. Harry and Mel managed to protect him from most of it, but he doubled abruptly, blood staining his uniform.

"That was just a taster!" said Bellatrix. "Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch your little friend die the hard way! And eventually the rest of your friends. The nasty traitor will bleed out, and nutty will join us to be the Dark Lord's little pet..."

Harry and Mel stood side by side, it didn't matter how strong she was, she couldn't fight ten people ready to kill. Harry hesitantly stretched out his hand, but before Malfoy could grab the prophecy, the doors burst open and Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley entered the room.

Harry grabbed her wrist and yanked her down, she seized Erick and dragged him too. The three of them crawled all the way up to Neville.

"Are you okay?" Harry shouted.

"Yes," Neville said shakily.

"That was really brave!" Mel cupped his face, examining his injuries. "And really stupid, Neville! You were supposed to stay close!"

"And Ron?" Harry asked them. "And the girls?"

"All out," Erick panted, he was holding onto the side of his body and was getting paler with each passing second. "But alive."

"I don't know how to heal cuts that deep," Mel said in worry. "Stop moving!"

Harry suddenly got lifted onto his feet by a man.

"Give it to me! Give me the prophecy —"

Neville stood up again and stabbed the man's eye with Hermione's wand. He let go of Harry and Mel shouted: "STUPEFY !"

Harry yelled 'Thanks!' as he stood up, but he slipped on Moody's eye, who was now unconscious a few feet away. Dolohov stared at them with a nasty smile.

"Tarantallegra!" He yelled at Neville, making him lose balance. "Now, Potter —"

"Protego!" Harry shouted.

Mel lifted Erick's white shirt that was now sticking to his body and did the first thing she could think of: She cauterised the cuts.

Her friend screamed in pain, she apologized hurriedly and kept going as Sirius and Dolohov fought behind her. When she finished, Erick was no longer conscious. Harry helped her stand and stared at him worryingly.

"He's not bleeding now," She tried to dry her tears, but only managed to smear Erick's blood across her face.  "I can't do anything else — I don't know if he'll live..."

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry yelled over her shoulder. Dolohov fell backwards.

"Nice one!" shouted Sirius forcing them to lower their heads. "Now I want you to get out of —"

Tonks fell a few feet away from them.

"Take the prophecy, grab Neville and Erick, and run!" Sirius ran towards Bellatrix.

"Can you stand?" Harry asked Neville.

"Hang on," Mel pointed her wand towards Neville's legs and ended the jinx.

"Put your arm 'round my neck," The boy told Neville, then turned to her. "You're sure you can take him?"

She pointed at Erick's limp figure and made him float a few inches above the ground.

"I don't need brute force," Mel said, pushing her friend's body forward.

Just as they started moving, Malfoy launched himself towards Harry and both fell onto the ground. Harry kept his hand up in order to not crash the prophecy, Mel let out a growl.

"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!"

"No — get — off — me... Neville — catch it!"

Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Neville spun himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Neville, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, "Impedimenta!"

"Round up the others and GO!" Lupin yelled, standing in front of Malfoy to keep him from attacking.

Neville approached her.

"You grab dis," He handed her the prophecy, surprisingly warm at the touch. "You're a better dueller."

"You're okay?" Mel asked.

"I'b fine," He said fiercely.

"Come on!" Harry yelled.

Neville pushed the Slytherin's floating figure, Mel looked down at the prophecy and froze.

'S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D'

She recognized the initials.

"That's how he knew..." Mel whispered. 

"Mel!" Harry yelled.

The prophecy was dangerous and they had almost let it fall onto the wrong hands... but there was a way to make sure this wouldn't happen, and it didn't necessarily mean both sides would lose.

She held the orb firmly and smashed it against the ground.

"NO!"

A white misty figure appeared wearing a pair of glasses that she knew all too well, a triumphant expression appeared on her face while Harry rushed back to her side.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

Her hand now had pieces of broken glass encrusted, but she couldn't feel pain, the adrenaline kept her working, the strange dark lines were slowly spreading across her skin. Harry looked down at her hand and shook his head, still unable to believe what she'd done.

"Let's get out of —"

"Dubbledore!" gasped Neville.

"What?"

"DUBBLEDORE!"

Mel's heart went from being in the depths of despair, to high above the clouds, now they had a chance to leave the Ministry in one piece: Albus Dumbledore had arrived, and he was angry.

It was an impressive display of power. A few death eaters ended up tied and wandless in a matter of seconds. Sirius and Bellatrix continued fighting, not noticing the battle was almost over.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Sirius taunted.

"He shouldn't be here," Mel pulled a piece of glass out of her palm. "Sirius shouldn't —" 

Before she could finish, a spell hit him right on the chest. Sirius' eyes opened in shock as he stumbled back. 

Mel was vaguely aware of Harry as he ran down the steps, her body went numb as she witnessed the man falling further into the veil. She couldn't see his face from where she was standing, but she saw his body fall, not quite touching the material hanging from the archway. The veil moved slightly, and then engulfed him.

"SIRIUS!" Harry screamed. "SIRIUS!"

Lupin caught the boy before he could go too far, Mel's fists tightened and she felt the pieces of glass piercing deeper into her skin. 

"There's nothing you can do, Harry —"

"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"

"It's too late, Harry —"

"We can still reach him —"

"There's nothing you can do, Harry... nothing... He's gone." 

"He hasn't gone! SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

"He can't come back, Harry, He can't come back, because he's d —"

"HE — IS — NOT — DEAD! SIRIUS!"

Something inside Mel snapped, the glass shot out of her palm and she walked back into the fight, attacking every dark shape her eyes would encounter. 

She wanted to hurt, to make them regret Sirius' death. Dumbledore slowed down her movements when he realized Mel had lost it, the girl looked down just in time to see faint, black lines vanish from her forearms.

Mel wouldn't remember much of it afterwards, all she knew was that her wand was extremely warm once she'd finished with the remaining death eaters and her fingers had a grey mist coming out of them. 

"What..." She stepped back clumsily, crashing against her great-uncle.

"I warned you," He said quietly. 

"Harry? Mel?" Neville had reached the place where Harry was standing, the boy had an absent look on his face, and he was unable to look away from the archway. "I'b really sorry... Was dat man — was Sirius Black a — a friend of yours?" 

Harry nodded, looking completely lost. Mel realized someone had managed to slip away from her outburst: Bellatrix was still fighting with Kingsley. Anger rose up to her chest once more, but Dumbledore didn't let her move forward.

"Let me have her!" She yelled.

BANG!

Kingsley fell flat on the ground, Bellatrix tried to run for it and Dumbledore threw a spell, but she was fast enough to avoid it.

"Harry — no!" 

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS!" Harry ran. "SHE KILLED HIM — I'LL KILL HER!"

Mel pushed Dumbledore aside and shouted 'Protego!' before anyone could try to stop them. They ran across the brain room and into the room full of doors, but this time neither Mel nor Harry had time for guessing.

"Where's the exit?!" Harry shouted. "Where's the way out?!"

The door behind them opened and they reached the elevator just as Bellatrix was leaving, Harry pushed the button to call a second lift and once inside Mel crouched, struggling to breathe. She didn't know how she still had the energy to do all this, but she didn't care as long as they could end that woman. 

Bellatrix was in the middle of the entrance hall, she threw several spells their way but Mel made them bounce away with flicks of her wrist. However, a potent spell pushed her back, and Harry dragged her behind the fountain before Bellatrix could take advantage of the momentary slip.

"Come out, come out, little kiddies! What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin! You were doing so well downstairs, you nutter!"

"We are!" Harry yelled.

"Aaaaaah... did you love him, little babies?" Bellatrix let out a peal of manic laughter. "Well, you're not the little babies, that filthy newborn is! Lucky for us we killed the father before he could ruin it! If we kill the mother too, we could raise their bastard on the right side of the family!"

Mel's stomach dropped, how did Bellatrix know about the baby? Where was her mother?

"Crucio!" Harry stood at the same time as her.

Mel once again lifted a protection spell around them, but this one came out slightly weaker. 

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" Bellatrix was now talking to them more like equals and less like infants. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain — to enjoy it — righteous anger won't hurt me for long — I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson — Crucio!" 

Mel pointed her wand to the woman's feet and the ground exploded, causing her to lose balance and stumble back.

"You cannot win against me! I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little children, can never hope to compete —"

"Stupefy!" 

"Protego!"

Mel and Harry only had time to crawl back behind the fountain.

"I am going to give you one chance! Give me the prophecy — roll it out toward me now — and I may spare your life!"

"You're in no position to bargain," She said, the same way Lucius Malfoy had done it. "And we have bad news for you —"

"— You're going to have to kill us because it's gone!" Harry said, and he glanced briefly at Mel before wincing in pain. "And he knows!" 

Mel couldn't feel this, probably because she was already hurting as well.

"Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it's gone!" He panted. "He's not going to be happy with you, is he?"

"What? What do you mean?" 

"Mel smashed it! What do you think Voldemort'll say about that, then?"

The girl raised her injured hand and waved it around.

"See? I crushed that thing until there was nothing left!"

Her hand stung badly and she lowered it to rub it, smearing more blood on her skin. 

"LIAR! YOU'VE GOT IT AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME — Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!" 

"Liar?" Mel spoke over Harry's insane laughter. "I'm a nutter! Crazy people never lie!"

"Nothing there!" Harry shouted. "Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that —"

"No! It isn't true, you're lying — MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED — DO NOT PUNISH ME —"

"Don't waste your breath!" Harry continued as Mel tried to heal her hand. "He can't hear you from here!"

"Can't I, Potter?" 

She still remembered him from her visions, but it was nothing compared to the live version.

Tall, thin, and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupiled eyes staring... Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry who stood frozen, quite unable to move.

Mel knew then that she would not survive, she was starting to feel tired.

"So you smashed my prophecy? No, Bella, they're not lying... I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind... Months of preparation, months of effort... and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again..." 

His eyes moved to Mel, she used the remnants of her strength to keep him out of her mind and closed her eyes tightly, breathing heavily, Voldemort let out a quiet hiss. 

"Miss Dumbledore, how nice to finally meet you... I see the rumours are true... Unfortunately, you're too young to be a real threat. Since it's been you who destroyed my prophecy, I'll have to kill you, but at least I'll make it fun to watch..."

"Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!" Bellatrix kneeled down in front him, Mel found the scene revolting. "Master, you should know —"

"Be quiet, Bella. I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?"

"But Master — he is here — he is below —" 

"As for dearest Potter," He continued, ignoring the woman. "I have nothing more to say to you. You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

[...] The headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms, protecting Harry.

"What — ? Dumbledore!" 

Mel's uncle was standing in front of the golden gates.

The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled toward the fireplaces set along the wall, and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. 

For some reason, none of the statues charged towards her, and Mel had the strange thought, that it was because her uncle knew she was done fighting.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore. "The Aurors are on their way —"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you dead!

Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his stone guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed, and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. 

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore? Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom. Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —"

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!"  

"You are quite wrong. Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —" 

[...]Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opened his beak wide, and swallowed the jet of green light whole. He burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid movement — the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; the water in the pool rose up and covered Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass —

For a few seconds Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass —

Then he was gone, and the water fell with a crash back into its pool, slopping wildly over the sides, drenching the polished floor.

"MASTER!" cried Bellatrix.

The girl tried to walk towards his uncle, Harry moved out of the statue's grip. 

"Stay where you are!" Dumbledore ordered.

Both froze, waiting for something, anything... Then Mel's body burst into flames.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle

[traincat]

traincat! thoughts on a spideytorch trek au? thanks!

Oh I have a lot of thoughts about this actually! I was working on one a while ago where it was supposed to be part of a bigger series but now I think I’d kind of like to go back in, rip up the foundations a little, and make it its own oneshot. (It involves Johnny and Peter meeting each other for the first time since Starfleet Academy -- where Johnny flunked out -- and crash landing on an alien planet where Johnny gets worshiped as a sun god.) 

So I do think there’s a bunch of directions you could go with Peter in a Trek AU -- I was briefly toying with the idea of him as a Romulan, because Secrets -- but my top pick is as a genetically engineered human. Trek’s genetically engineered humans have the right power set: enhanced speed, strength, and smarts! It gives Peter a reason to keep his abilities hidden! His parents being involved in Section 31 is a no-brainer, given their canonical background as spies! It’s half a ripoff of DS9′s Bashir, but hey, it’s fanfic. I go back and forth on whether he should be involved in Starfleet. On the one hand, I do think he’d be good at it and it’s kind of a given, in a Trek AU, that your main characters are in Starfleet. On the other hand, he’s kind of terrible at cooperation. I think at the end of the day my idea is to have him as a ship’s Science Officer but like, do I think he stays there? Probably not in the long term. (The AU equivalent of when he ditched that really good lab job in Portland!) Whereas originally I was thinking of building the ship out of other hero characters Peter’s worked with, now I think I might go with the Bugle staff -- Captain Jameson, First Officer Robertson, Chief Medical Officer Kate Cushing, Glory Grant as Communications Officer, etc. There’s definitely enough Bugle employees to build a full staff out of, down to Ensign Billy Waters. (Very likely to get killed on an away mission. Sorry, Billy.) Alternatively I could make Norman Osborn the captain and have things go very, very badly. That could be fun too. 

With Johnny, I’ve had my heart set on his being half-Betazoid since I first thought of a Trek AU. Which is like, with most AUs I usually pretty immediately know what I want to do with Johnny, and especially here because I don’t know if I’ve talked about this very much on tumblr but if I could give Johnny one additional power/a different power, it would definitely be empathy. Feelings powers! For a boy who has a lot of them. Is it an excuse to throw around “imzadi” in a fic? Yes, 100%, but it’s an excuse I stand by. I love a made up alien term of endearment. I think it’s pretty easy to duplicate the Fantastic Four’s origin here, with Reed stealing a space ship for an experimental flight he couldn’t getting funding/approval for from Starfleet instead of from the US government, and then wham, horrific accident resulting in strange powers. Which like, obviously I wouldn’t have to stick to in a Trek AU, but I think if it’s right there for the taking, you might as well, and I like the idea of the Four on the fringes of Starfleet but very much their own thing, much like in original canon. Also Johnny Storm, Starfleet Academy dropout, is important to me. 

I did manage to dig up my old WIP doc for the Trek AU, so here’s a snip of something that would probably be very heavily rewritten if I went back to it:

The two moons in the sky were bright crescents and the breeze through the window was soft and sweet. Johnny Storm was stretched out next to him laughing like there was no place in the galaxy he'd rather be. It was enough to make Peter lose all sense, and that was why he leaned over and pressed his lips to Johnny's.

Johnny tasted like wine and alien fruit, and he was warm, warmer than anyone else Peter had ever kissed. The heat of him surprised Peter - he pulled back, but Johnny surged forward.

"Don't you dare," Johnny growled, practically climbing into Peter's lap. He caught Peter's face between his hands and kissed him again, head tilted, the angle just right. Peter's hands flew to his waist to anchor him before they tipped over.

"Johnny," he said, lips sliding across Johnny's mouth, down to his jaw. "I didn't think -"

"Can you shut up for once?" Johnny pulled back enough to demand. His dark eyes sparked, his lips were bruised. He looked imperious and royal, the sun god everyone on this whole backwater planet believed him to be. "Thinking is the whole problem, Pete!"

"I'm sorry some of us can't just turn our brains off!" Peter snapped back, shoving Johnny backwards. His eyes went wide when his back met the wall, and he fisted his hands in Peter's shirt to pull him back against him. Their mouths clashed again, open and messy, the kissing equivalent of every stupid argument back at Starfleet Academy. Peter's blood burned in a whole new way.

"Try it, genius," Johnny said. "Just once. For me."

Johnny's flimsy shirt hung off one shoulder. Peter traced the line of it against his flushed skin, the way the delicate fabric clung to his body, highlighting Johnny's lean waist, his flat stomach.

He grabbed a handful of filmy fabric and tore it off.

Johnny inhaled sharply, and then he started to laugh. He pulled Peter in with one hand fisted in the hair at the back of his head, pressing his smiling mouth to Peter's. "See? I knew you could do it."

"It's just because your stupid's contagious," Peter said. He ripped the fragile golden chains from Johnny next and Johnny laughed, head thrown back, all golden insolence. "You're some kind of intelligence sinkhole. Is that a Betazoid thing?"

That was all he got the chance to do before Johnny shoved him back down onto the bed.

"Insulting my heritage!" he mumbled against Peter's mouth, clever fingers plucking at the hidden clasps of Peter's uniform. "Very sexy.”

(...)

Johnny's hand closed around the back of his neck, thumb stroking the hair at his nape. "I wanted this, at the academy."

It was a soft confession, and maybe that was what startled Peter into admitting, "Me too. I thought about you. All the time. Couldn't get you out of my head."

"I know." Johnny's fingers curled in his hair, tugging Peter's head down so he could kiss him. "I could feel it. I mean," his grin turned flippant, "everyone wanted me. But I always felt you separate from everyone else."

"Is that supposed to make me feel special?" Peter asked, nipping at Johnny's lower lip. "Your ego is so huge I'll have them name a star after it."

"That's sweet. I want two," Johnny said, but the look on his face was soft. He knocked his forehead playfully against Peter's and said, "Do you remember that time at that club? God, what was it called - Orbit. That was it."

It was easy to conjure up the memory in his usual crystal clarity. The flashing lights, the chrome of the bar top, the very annoyed Benezian bartender. Johnny, drunk and absolutely infuriating. Peter, not drunk, but no less annoying for it.

"Oh wow," he said, remembering how hoarse his voice had been. His throat felt scratchy in sympathetic memory. "We screamed at each other for like an hour."

It had been exactly an hour and twelve minutes, plus a spare handful of seconds, but who besides Peter was counting.

"We got kicked out," Johnny snickered, tugging his fingers through Peter's hair until it stood on end.

"You filled my room with Bajoran oatmeal and gagh the next day," Peter said, nose wrinkling. One of the downsides of his brain: he could still remember the smell. "Two feet of it."

"The things I did to that replicator," Johnny said dreamily.

"I tried to figure it out," Peter confessed. His eyelids felt heavy; he let them fall, rolling over so his chest was pressed to Johnny's back and their knees fit together like puzzle pieces. "I could never work out what you did to bypass the safety. I was going to rig a tub of Cardassian fish juice to fall on your head."

"I have the touch," Johnny said. "You're not going back to your room?"

Peter stilled. "I can go -"

"No," Johnny said, fumbling for Peter’s arm. He draped it over his waist. "No. Stay."

[maluminspace]

Genre: Soulmate au/fluff/smut

Pairings: Michael Clifford/Female Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Dedicated to: @h0tsos and @5-secondsofcolor

Trigger Warnings: strong language, moderate sexual content

Content: male masturbation, references to blowobs, references to anal sex

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write a soulmate au for a long time. It took me a while to figure out what tropes and stuff I wanted to use but I hope you enjoy what I ended up with! 💕 special thanks to Steff and Alma for helping me with this and putting up with my long rambling plans for it 😂 I love you both 🥰

***

“What the fuck, Luke?” Michael grumbles, pulling his duvet over his head to block out the sunlight. “I don’t have work today… Fuck off!”

He’s been talking about how excited he was to sped his Saturday in bed, all fucking week. There’s not a chance in hell that Luke could be confused. He has no excuse at all to be waking Michael up.

“It’s almost noon, Mike.” Luke huffs defiantly. “You promised you’d help me tidy up the apartment and then disappear so that I can bring that girl home.” He yanks the duvet cover off of Michael mercilessly before dropping it on the ground at the foot of his roommate’s bed.

Letting out an annoyed and frustrated growl, Michael kicks his legs like a stroppy toddler for a moment before finally forcing one of his pretty green eyes open. “I said fuck off!” He repeats, “I swear to god, with the week I’ve had, I would not rule out murdering you today, Hemmings.”

The younger roommate rolls his eyes impatiently, which only annoys Michael even more. “If you murdered me, you’d have no friends.” He states, a tiny smirk playing at the corners of his lips before he turns towards the door. “If you’re not in the kitchen in ten minutes, I’m gonna come back with a jug of freezing cold water.”

Unfortunately, Michael knows that’s not an empty threat. He’d made the mistake of believing his best friend wouldn’t douse him ice water once before… It’d taken him all day to warm up after that incident. He definitely doesn’t want a repeat of it, even if he’d like nothing more than to grab his duvet from the ground and go back to sleep.

It takes at least half of Luke’s stated time limit for Michael to roll out of bed. He wasn’t lying when he said it’d been a tough week for him. After spending the majority of it working with a band he can’t stand, the idea of his ‘duvet day’ had been the entire motivation to get him through.

Needless to say, Michael’s not in the best of moods when he finally sloped into the kitchen a few minutes later. The tiled floor is cold on his bare feet and he growls miserably as he throws open a cupboard in search of some form of sustenance.

“I made you a fruit tea.” Luke offers, gesturing towards a steaming mug on the countertop near the sink. “You can take it into the sitting room if you want, I’ll make you some toast or something.”

Michael scoffs at the kind gestures. “I don’t want your fucking toast. I want something sweet and I want to sleep, but you made damn sure that wasn’t happening.”

“Mate…” Luke sighs, already showing signs of exasperation. “It’s almost midday and the apartment is a dump! I can’t bring my date back here if it stays like this.”

Deciding that a sugary cereal is the only hope to lighten his mood, Michael pulls the half empty box of fruit loops from the cupboard and swings the door hard enough to result in an almost satisfyingly loud bang. “So what?” He asks, grabbing a bowl from the drying rack next to the sink. “I don’t even know why you bother ‘dating’. We’re all assigned a soulmate at birth, right? So what’s the point in trying to make a relationship work with someone you know you’re not ‘meant’ to be with?”

Michael knows that there’s an obvious answer to that question. No one ever knows when they’ll meet their soulmate, there’s no magical clock counting down to that life altering moment. There’s no mysterious tattoos or markings to help you find them either. You just have to wait until you hear that stranger’s voice in your own head and there’s no way on earth of knowing when it’ll happen. The unpredictability of the system means that an individual could spend a hefty portion of their life as a singleton. For this reason, many people choose to ignore the fact that their ‘one’ is waiting for them somewhere, focusing on their own sexual and companionship needs instead.

Michael has never been one of those people. Sure, he’d jump into bed with a random stranger from time to time. He never once pretended that the connection would be anything more than physical, though. Most adults have sexual needs and he’s only ever seeked out like-minded people that wanted a quick fuck just to satisfy their urges. His emotions are always locked up and buried deep within him, there’s only one person out there who he’ll ever share them with and he’s still yet to meet them.

“I’m not having this conversation with you again, Michael.” Luke grumbles, handing his roommate a carton of milk from the fridge. “Especially when you’re in such a foul mood.”

Snatching the milk from his friend, Michael pours it over his cereal and grabs a spoon from the cutlery drawer. “Well, who’s fault is that?” The slightly older man snipes. “I’d still be asleep if it wasn’t for you. The least you can do is answer my fucking question.”

Luke’s broad shoulders slump, a dejected gesture that almost makes Michael feel guilty for pushing the subject. He knows full well that he’s being a dick on purpose. Michael has always known that his friend hates the soulmate system. He loathes the waiting and most of all he just can’t stand being alone. Luke’s never been able to keep his feelings in check, it’s like he’s not capable of keeping things casual, he needs a deeper connection. “You know why, Mike.” Luke sighs, “I’ve read plenty of news articles about people that have never found their soulmate for one reason or another. With every day that goes by, I feel like my chances of having a decent amount of time with them, or meeting them at all get smaller and smaller.”

Part of Michael sympathies with his roommate. He’d be lying if he said he’d never lay awake at night worrying that he’d never meet his ‘one’. As much as he’d like to set his bad mood aside and offer Luke some words of comfort, he’s still incredibly sleep deprived and angry. His less than kind words spill from his lips before the better side of him can stop them. “You’re 24, Luke! Get a grip… it’s far too early to assume you’ll never meet your soulmate.”

A hint of rare anger burns in Luke’s eyes for a second before it’s replaced by an all-too-familiar sadness. “I’ve always had this feeling that I’ll never find them, Mike.” He admits, tapping his chest to emphasise his point. “I don’t have the same faith in the system as you do. Dating randomers might not be ideal, but I need more than just sex to get by. I need to feel close to someone.”

The pained expression on Luke’s face finally pulls out a shred of Michael’s decency. No amount of anger or lack of sleep is worth making Luke feel this way. He places his cereal down on the counter before reaching out to place his hand in his friend’s shoulder. “You will find them, Luke.” He reassures gently. “There's no way that I can promise you when it’ll happen but I just know that it will. No one deserves to find their soulmate young as much as you do.”

A humourless laugh escapes Luke as he pulls his friend into a hug. “I wish I shared that certainty with you, buddy.”

***

In an attempt to make up for his earlier behaviour. Michael spends the next two hours working through every chore that Luke asks him to do and more besides. By the time he’s finally ready to take a well deserved shower, he’s pretty sure that Luke’s feeling a bit better about everything. Of course Michael has been sure to drop as many reassuring comments as possible to help dispel his friend’s lingering doubt about finding his soulmate.

Before heading to the bathroom, Michael picks up his phone from his bedside table to check his emails. Even on his days off, he can’t fully disengage his brain from his work. Music has always been his biggest passion, so working in a recording studio is ideal for him. Most of the time he enjoys being locked up in his little room, helping all kinds of musicians accomplish their visions.

This week has been pretty tough, though. A bunch of primadonnas in leather waistcoats and bandannas have spent every day trying to make his life a misery. Luckily, the email that Michael had been hoping for is waiting in his inbox when he opens the app on his phone. His colleague, Ashton Irwin, had messaged to let him know that ‘the fucking band of shitheads’ had fallen out with each other and stormed off, forfeiting the rest of their studio time.

It’s with a lighter heart and a tiny smile that Michael steps into the shower a few moments later. It doesn’t take too long though, for Michael to start thinking over the whole soulmate thing. He’s always had complete faith in the system but that ache that Luke sometimes talks about, the constant weight of doubt in his chest, has started to resonate with the slightly older man.

Maybe I just need to get laid

As soon as the thought pops into his head, Michael convinces himself that’s all he needs. Whenever loneliness starts to show it’s ugly face, jumping into bed with the next hot person he comes into contact with is always the perfect solution.

After making his mind up to head to his favourite bar as soon as possible, Michael attempts to empty his head, allowing the warm water washing over his skin to soothe his mind.

One of his favourite ways to distract himself is, of course jerking off, and it doesn’t take long for his body to start reacting in the typical way once the idea pops into his mind. His neglected cock hardens as he strokes it gently, conjuring up thoughts of some of his favourite recent sexual encounters. The first thing that enters his head is the incredibly pretty girl that had sucked him off in the bathroom of the club he’d ventured to last week, the way her painted red lips wrapped around his long, thick length as he gripped her hair needily. Michael bites his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle his moans as his mind drifts to the hot, muscular guy that had fucked him senseless in his apartment a month or so ago, they hadn’t even made it to the bedroom, both of them too desperate to satisfy their sexual needs to spare the extra seconds it would have taken to reach the comfort of the stranger’s bed. Luckily the man had condoms and lube in the pocket of his leather jacket, meaning that they had everything they needed right there on the couch in his living room. It’s impossible for Michael to hold in the gasp that escapes him as he steadies himself with one hand pressed against the cold tiled walls of the shower cubicle, whilst the other picks up speed, causing all the friction he needs on his achingly hard cock. He knows it won’t take long to reach his climax now as his mind flicks between the girl in the bathroom and muscular stranger, remembering every sensation and every sound from both occasions. The way ‘red lips’ had moaned around his cock as it hit the back of her throat, the way ‘muscles’ had groaned “so tight babe” as he’d rocked his sinful hips into Michael at a relentless speed. A quiet “fuck” escapes Michael’s lips as his finger tips press harder into the tiles. His orgasm is fast approaching when he remembers the way red lips had pulled off of him just long enough to tell him to cum down her throat, her voice scratchy and weak. Her face is instantly replaced with the sensation of muscles’ tongue dragging over the most sensitive spot of his neck.

Why can’t you keep the fucking noise down, asshole, I don’t care about how much you love getting fucked by hot guys…

The voice in his head isn’t the one that usually berates him for being a slut. It’s a female voice, and an unfamiliar one at that. He’s too caught up in the moment to think too hard on the intrusion and by the time he realises that the voice in his head doesn’t belong to him at all, it’s too late to stop. His orgasm crashes over him in the same moment that the new voice adopts a distraught tone.

Holy Shit

Michael spills all over his hand with the fresh realisation that his soulmate is nearby, echoing through his foggy mind.

Did you just… Oh my god!

“I’m sorry!” Michael whimpers out loud, hastily turning off the shower with a shaking hand. “Can’t you get out of my fucking head, while I try to process this and possibly die of embarrassment?”

I don’t know how to, genius! I never expected this to happen today, I… holy fuck, this is so messed up! I just heard you cum and I don’t even know your name, I haven’t even seen your face and you’re my fucking soulmate…

This is all too much. Michael can’t even begin to think about everything that just happened in the last few moments. His soulmate is in his building. The person he was always meant to be with is somewhere very close by and she appeared in his head at the very moment he climaxed thinking about being fucked by the hottest guy he’d ever met. Of all the ways to meet your soulmate…

His head is still spinning as he staggers out of the shower and grabs the fluffy bath towel from the rail on the wall. How on earth is he meant to set this situation right?

I guess you can start by meeting me face to face? We should start getting to know each other if we have to spend the rest of our lives together.

But you just heard me… Michael babbles silently, unable to keep his thoughts in his head. I’m the fucking worst soulmate you could have ever imagined, I…

You weren’t to know. Neither of us were. It’ll make a funny story for your wedding speech, at least!

Michael feels the blood drain from his face as the reality of the situation crashes down around him. His casual, carefree lifestyle has ended, just like that, no warning, no preamble. He’s found his soulmate and his life just changed forever. I can’t meet you face to face now… Michael sighs. Fuck, I wish the earth would just swallow me up right now.

A soft laugh echoes through his mind. It’s not a mocking one or anything, in fact it’s probably the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

So what if I popped into your head when you were jerking off? We all do it… I just want to see you! I’ve been waiting my whole life for this, aren’t you curious to see me too?

Of course I am! Michael groans, padding out of the bathroom and down the hallway to his bedroom. I just… how am I meant to look you in the eye now?

That musical laugh rings through his mind once more as he perches on the end of his bed.

Hey, at least I already know a couple of things you’re into!

Michael knows that it’s meant to be a joke but he groans, still feeling utterly embarrassed. I just wish this had happened differently.

I don’t. I always hoped that when I heard my soulmate’s thoughts for the first time, that they’d be thinking something fun or sexy. You really delivered!

Michael lets out a tiny laugh, still aware that his cheeks are burning. And here I was thinking that was the worst ‘first bonding’ of all time.

It’s embarrassing for you, but hilarious for me! I promise I won’t tease you about it for the rest of your life if you just get your ass to apartment 309 ASAP so I can see what you look like!

You’re lying. Michael laughs, suddenly aware that the bond between his own mind and his soulmate’s is deeper than he first realised. He could hear her faintest thoughts, those ‘barely there’ little wisps of memories, plans or realisations. You fully plan to bring this up once a day for the rest of our lives.

Fuck! I hate that you can hear everything that goes on in my head! I guess we need to do some research on how to control this thing, huh?

Michael couldn’t agree more. He’s been waiting his whole life to find his soulmate, but knowing that this person can get into his mind whenever they’re within a certain radius, is a scary thought. There’s certain things he doesn’t want his soulmate to know too much about, especially so early on in their relationship. Fuck, we don’t even have a relationship yet…

We’ve been assigned to each other from birth, this is destiny. Let’s get this first meeting over with, yeah? I’ll be in apartment..

309? Yeah you said! Michael chuckles, his nerves making it hard for him to control how his words take form. Just let me get dressed and I’ll be right there.

***

“Are you okay?” Georgia, your best friend, asks timidly when she opens the front door of her apartment. It’s an open-plan layout and the living area is still filled with unopened boxes of her belongings and flat-packed furniture. You’re meant to be helping her move into this new apartment but your plans seem to have suddenly changed. “You look pale as fuck…” Your best friend’s grey-blue eyes sparkle with concern as she regards you carefully.

“Yeah… I uh…” you stammer, still trying to wrap your head around what’s just happened. “I just… My soulmate’s coming over here in a minute, as soon as I walked in the building I heard him in my head...”

“WHAT?” Georgia’s eyes suddenly resemble saucers as she leads you over to the sofa in the centre of the room. “Your soulmate lives in this building?”

You nod your head uncertainly. “I guess so, yeah.”

Georgia pulls you down onto the sofa next to her before taking your hand excitedly. “So what do you know about him? When is he getting here? Shit, you need to change your outfit.” She rambles, leaping to her feet. “Come on, I haven’t unpacked most of my clothes yet but I have a couple of suitcases that we can ransack.”

Before you even have a chance to answer any of her questions, your best friend whisks you off the sofa towards one of the doors set into the wall opposite the kitchenette. She’s still muttering under her breath even when the two of you stumble into her bedroom.

“Georgie…” You groan. “He’s my soulmate, I want him to know the real me from the start, he’s in my head anyway, he’ll know that your pretty clothes aren’t my real style.”

So you’re not into pretty clothes then?

“Shit.” You curse, feeling a blush rise in your cheeks. “I hate that he’s still in my head! I cannot wait to figure out how we can control this shit…”

“He’s in your head right now?” Georgia asks, dropping the crop top she’d just pulled from a suitcase onto her bed. “That’s fucking weird and creepy, can he go away?”

You shake your head. “You have no idea…” the very recent memory of your soulmate’s sexual fantasies pop into your brain as you cover your face with your hands. “Wait ‘til I tell you about the moment I burst into his mind.”

Georgia eyes you curiously, perching in the foot of her bed, all of her intentions of finding you a new outfit seemingly forgotten. “What happened?”

As much as you want to share the horrific story, you know that there’s not enough time. Your soulmate will be here any moment and you can’t even panic properly because he knows everything you’re fucking thinking and feeling.

Oh god! Please don’t tell your friend what just happened…

The pleading in your soulmate’s psychic voice is too adorable to ignore or disobey. He’s genuinely mortified by the whole experience, you can feel his embarrassment deep within your own bones as though it’s your own. You really had no idea how fast and deep the soulmate connection would happen, nothing could have ever prepared you for this and you know that your soulmate feels the same, his emotions are finely tuned into yours now.  “I’ll have to tell you another time, Georgie, he’ll be here any minute.”

Your best friend nods understandingly, although there’s a definite note of disappointment in her tone when she speaks again. “So are the two of you gonna go somewhere together? If you wanna stay here, I can stay in my room, it’ll give me an excuse to unpack my clothes instead of putting together that ikea furniture…”

“That’s sweet of you, Georgie but I think we’ll probably go out somewhere. I guess this will be my last first date ever…” You smile, although the fear that stirs up in you is undeniable. You can feel the emotion that it conjures up in your soulmate too, but it’s not quite fear or sadness.

He’s trying hard to hide the real reason for his ambiguous emotion and you don’t want to pry. Being in his head is strange enough as it is, you don’t want to learn things about him now that he’s not ready to share. Despite your psychic bond, you need to earn each other’s trust and the rights to any secrets you both may be hiding.

“Wow that’s got to feel really weird.” Georgia huffs, becoming lost in her own thoughts for a moment.

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself for a little comfort.

Can I meet you in the lobby instead of at your friend’s place? I’d kinda like our first meeting to be on neutral ground, y’know?

“Whenever I imagined meeting my soulmate for the first time, it was always somewhere beautiful or fun.” You mutter out loud. “Not in the tired old lobby of an apartment building my best friend just moved in to.”

“Hey, this is a nice place!” Georgia argues, her pretty face twisting into a defiant expression.

There’s no reason why we can’t do that. Just pick a time and a place and I’ll be there...

Knowing that your soulmate is in the same building as you right now is so tempting. You want to meet him in person more than anything. Yet, the thought of waiting just a little linger in order to make it perfect, wins you over.

There’s a park a few blocks away, do you know it? You ask, instinctively wondering back into the main living area of the apartment. It’s got a little lake surrounded by blossom trees, it’s always really pretty at this time of year. Could we meet there?

Sure, what time?

Umm, I can be there in a half hour or so, does that work for you?

That’s perfect, should we exchange phone numbers just in case?

You agree and tell him your name and number. The thudding of his heart and the joy he feels deep within him, resonates with you as you take your own phone from the pocket of your jeans. His text pings through just a second later, it’s a simple message consisting of a tree, a sparkly heart and a boy/girl couple emoji. What’s your name, you big sap? You chuckle, the growing fondness in your chest becoming more undeniable by the second.

Oh I didn’t tell you already?

His tone is mocking but it’s entirely clear that his feelings for you match the ones you’re developing for him.

It’s Michael… See you in a half hour, blossom.

***

You’ve been fighting a constant battle against your never since the second you’d walked out of Georgia’s apartment building. Now that you’re free from your soulmate’s unintentional intrusion, you start to allow all of your fears and insecurities about the whole situation into your mind.

Visions of how badly you are likely to fuck this up run through your brain unhindered, during your fifteen minute walk to the park. You’re so caught up in your scary thoughts that you arrive at your destination on autopilot, dropping into the first free bench you find, luckily it’s beneath one of your beloved blossom trees.

You’re only sitting there with your own thoughts for a few minutes before your soulmate’s psychic, nervous blabbering fills your mind. “Michael?” You whisper, your tone a perfect mixture of fear and excitement.

Fuck, you’re here already, blossom?

Yeah, I guess my nerves made me walk faster than I usually would. You’re early too, though!

Yeah… I kinda wanted to beat you here so that I could have a few minutes to think about what to say to you. The least I can do is give you a good first impression when we meet in person, seeing as our first psychic bond was such a disaster.

The embarrassment in his tone is obvious and it almost makes you feel a little sorry for him. It could have been worse. You giggle, your urge to tease him a tiny bit more winning out.

Yeah, for you maybe…You giggle a little bit longer before taking a deep breath. Okay, I’m on a bench under one of the blossom trees. I’m wearing blue skinny jeans and a leather jacket, can you see me?

Shit… Yeah, I see you blossom. I… fuck, how do you wanna do this? Should I walk over and sit next to you or…

Before he has a chance to finish his sentence you scan all of the faces of the people on other benches and those walking along the path in front of you beside the lake. None of them seem to be paying any attention to you but you can tell by the nervousness in your soulmate’s thoughts that he can see you. Without another second’s hesitation, you turn your head towards the little expanse of grass behind your bench.

Your heart stammers in your chest as your gaze is met with a pair of beautiful, albeit startled, green eyes. Some deep, almost primal instinct tells you that this is him. This is your soulmate.

He’s not at all what you’d ever expected. In fact, part of you had always believed you were an exception to the rule, that you didn’t have a soulmate. Yet here is a beautiful, slightly awkward angel of a man who you’re deeply bonded with in every way. “Michael?” Your voice is barely a whisper and there’s no way he’d hear it over the rustling of the leaves above his head and the excited laughter of the children playing near the lake. But he hears you in his head as a bright smile curls the corners of his impossibly pink lips.

Michael nods as he tucks a loose strand of his bleached blonde hair behind his ear. His cheeks heat up under your gaze and he looks much shier than you had expected him to be, especially given the thoughts that you’d intruded upon a little while ago.

A flashback of the horrific moment that you’d burst into his brain earlier, runs through his mind as his cheeks burn even brighter.

Before Michael can apologise, you slowly rise to your feet and force your legs to step closer to him. “You don’t have to be sorry, our first interaction was just bad timing.”

A tiny chuckle escapes Michael as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “I just hate that that’s the first thing you knew about me.”

“That you like blowjobs and getting fucked?” You reply, giggling again. “I’d have known those things the second I laid eyes on you anyway.”

A shocked laugh bursts out of your soulmate as he frantically tries to think of the best way to respond to your blunt words.

“Don’t worry I’ve filed them away for future reference.” You smirk, loving the way that Michael squirms needily. “We should probably get to know each other a bit better first, though.”

Michael agrees easily, regarding you with a degree of admiration that you’d never experienced before. “Sounds like a good idea, blossom. How about I buy you an ice cream and we exchange childhood stories before we head to the library and start looking into this mind reading stuff?”

Humming your agreement, you make the bold decision to reach for his hand. It’s odd that a part of your dynamic has developed so quickly, but there’s no denying that Michael’s shyness and awkwardness far outweighs your own. That’s not a problem, though, you’re happy to take the lead for now.

Michael gives you a lopsided grin as he accepts your hand, suppressing the trembles that threaten to overcome him as your skin touches his for the first time.

Of course you share the intense emotions and physical effects, but you seem to be able to control them a bit better than he can. You can’t help but find him utterly adorable.

***

Michael still can’t believe this is happening. Less than an hour ago, he never would have believed that today would be the day he’d meet his soulmate. Here you are, though, walking beside him, attempting to eat an ice cream cone before it melts all over your hand.

It’s amazing to him, just how perfect for him you are. Sure, he’s always known that soulmates are chosen for each other based on their compatibility in many different areas, but he’d never thought that it was possible to fall for you as hard and fast as he has done.

“So your roommate, Luke…” You ponder our lout. “He’s your best friend?”

Michael nods distractedly as he focuses on the way that you drag your tongue over the soft ice cream in your hand. “We’ve known each other for years.”

Even if you haven’t noticed the way that Michael’s been staring at you, there’s not a single chance that you can’t hear his increasingly lustful thoughts. He’s faintly aware of that fact but it’s impossible for him to stop thinking about how much he wants to feel your mouth against his.

“Did you tell him about me before you came out to meet me?” You ask curiously, your cheeks turning pink as your gaze drifts to Michael's lips.

The blonde man shakes his head. “He was busy getting ready for a date, I didn’t want to overshadow his moment.”

Your silent awww echoes through Michael’s brain for a moment as he tries to distract himself by eating his own ice cream. He can’t stop the smile that curls his lips as your subconscious yearning to feel his tongue on your skin reaches his mind. It’s closely followed by your embarrassment as you clearly realise that he knows what you're thinking about.

“This being in each other’s head thing is absolutely the worst idea in the world.” You groan, trying to hide your face behind your ice cream as best you can.

Michael’s heart kind of melts at how adorable you look and his urge to kiss you is more overwhelming than ever. It’s clear by the way you hesitantly meet his gaze that you can feel how much he wants it, just as he can sense how much you want it to happen as well. “I dunno…” he smiles gently. “It’s embarrassing and it feels a bit weird, but you have to admit how incredible it feels to be so deeply connected to someone. It’s like… I’ve never felt less alone, y’know?”

You nod thoughtfully as you take another lick of your ice cream. “Yeah… it’s nice to know that we communicate on a whole different level. I’m excited to learn how to control it, though! There are still things I don’t want you to learn about me just yet.”

It feels strange to Michael that there are things you want to withhold from him, albeit temporarily, because he already sort of feels like he knows you better than he’s ever known anyone else. In the hour or so since you’d popped into his brain, it’s like two of you have formed a deep, unbreakable bond, like there’s an invisible force connecting him to you and it’s simultaneously the most exciting and the most terrifying feeling he’s ever experienced.

Maybe it’s that moment of confusion and vulnerability that leads you to take the step that Michael’s been too shy to take since the two of you first met in person. His breath hitches in his throat as you stop walking and cup his cheek gently in your free hand. He knows what's about to happen, he’d have known even he couldn’t hear your thoughts. The intensity in your eyes and the slight tremble in your fingers make it obvious and Michael’s nervous anticipation reaches an all time high in the seconds before you close the gap between your lips and his.  

***

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[moonynpadfootforever]

April 20th

@mvnvgedmischief I hope you like this lol

content warning: drug use

Remus was not going home for the spring holiday. Last night was a full moon and he didn't feel up to traveling. Besides, he wanted to spend the time off studying for the upcoming NEWTs. James and Peter were going to their respective homes; Sirius, despite Remus's protests, was staying at Hogwarts.

"You sure you don't want us to stay?" James asked, shutting his trunk unceremoniously. "Padfoot might drive you mad. You don't know what it's like to be stuck with only his company for a whole week."

"Fuck off, James." Sirius threw a pillow at James and missed. "I'm a delight to be around."

"I'll be fine, James," Remus said from his bed. His joints ached, his muscles were sore, there was a large bruise on his side, and he was exhausted. "Sirius, you should go with him."

"Aw, Moony, stop trying to get rid of me. I'm going to help you study."

Peter rolled his eyes.

By "help you study," Remus was pretty sure that Sirius meant "distract you while you try to work for a better, if unlikely, future for yourself." It was less than ideal, but the real reason Remus didn't want Sirius to stay was because he felt guilty. Surely he'd have more fun with James than cooped up in the dormitory with Remus. But it was a lost cause - Sirius had already made up his mind.

"Alright, Padfoot, whatever you say."

Sirius grinned at him. 

"Don't drink my firewhiskey," James warned, stuffing a pair of mismatched socks into his bag.

"Remus, please make sure Sirius doesn't put itching powder on my pillow," Peter sighed, tying his shoes.

Sirius said "I would never!" at the same time Remus said "You know I can't control him."

"You would," Peter told Sirius, grimacing, "and you can," he directed toward Remus.

………………………………..

As soon as James and Peter were gone, Sirius leaned up against Remus's bed with a mischievous smile and said, "I've got a present for you."

"Really." Remus wondered if he was about to become the victim of a prank that only Sirius found amusing.

"Don't look at me like that, Moony. I promise you'll like it!" Sirius was rummaging around in his trunk. Remus was not reassured. 

Sirius returned to Remus with a glass jar in his hand. It seemed to contain some sort of dried leaves. He presented it to Remus, looking immensely proud of himself.

"What is that?" 

"Skunk," Sirius announced, handing the jar to Remus and sitting on the side of the bed.

"What? Where did you get this?" Remus examined the green clumps.

"Dorcas Meadowes. And it wasn't cheap, so it better be good." 

"I'm shocked that you didn't try this with James first," Remus replied, opening the jar and smelling its contents. Lately, Sirius had been spending more time with Remus than James, a result of James being preoccupied with dating Lily. Still, this seemed like a classic Prongs and Padfoot activity. 

"I figured you'd appreciate it more," Sirius told him, producing a strangely-shaped glass pipe from his pocket. "It's supposed to help with pain," Sirius added.

"Oh." It always caught Remus off-guard when Sirius did something thoughtful. "Do you even know how to do this?"

"Yeah, it's simple." Sirius took out a mortar and pestle (used in the making of various nefarious potions) from the nightstand that sat between their two beds. He picked a few of the green clumps from the jar and ground them up, then filled the pipe. He offered it to Remus.

"You first, Pads."

Sirius shrugged, lifted the pipe to his mouth, and lit it with the tip of his wand. The smoke came out of his mouth in a violent coughing fit.

Remus couldn't help but laugh. "I don't think I've ever seen you look so uncool."

"Shut - up," Sirius said between coughs.

Remus handed Sirius his glass of water.

"Thanks," Sirius said when he'd downed the whole thing. He refilled it with a quick aguamenti. "Your turn. Let's see how-" he coughed again, "you do it."

Remus brought the pipe to his mouth, trying not to dwell on how Sirius's lips had been there only moments before. Sirius lit the pipe for him and Remus inhaled. It was harsh; it burned the back of his throat. He exhaled and coughed twice.

"Impressive," Sirius admitted. Sirius's fingers brushed Remus's as he took the pipe back. 

They each took a few more hits and drank a lot more water.

Sirius made Remus move over so that he could lie down on the bed next to him.

"How're you feeling?" Sirius asked.

Remus's thoughts were moving slowly and his limbs felt pleasantly heavy. "Er… good."

"Yeah. Me too. It's kind of like being drunk, but… different."

Remus laughed.

"What?!"

"Very eloquent, Padfoot."

"I'll show you eloquent." Sirius yanked up Remus's shirt and blew a raspberry into his stomach. 

Remus laughed so hard he almost fell out of the bed. "You're mad," he gasped.

"You love it," Sirius teased.

Remus very much wanted Sirius's mouth to return to any part of his body. Oh, hell. This drug was preventing him from keeping his base desires in check.

"What're you thinking about?" Sirius tapped Remus's temple. 

"Erm… I've never felt so relaxed the day after a full."

"That's good. But what are you really thinking? You're such a closed book, and it's not fair because you always seem to know what I'm thinking before I even think it."

"I'm thinking that my throat is dry," Remus replied, reaching over Sirius for his glass. 

Sirius rolled over so that he was facing away from Remus, grumbling something incomprehensible. Remus decided it was best not to ask.

The sun was setting and the dormitory was awash in orange light and shadows. 

"Thanks for staying," Remus said quietly.

Sirius rolled onto his back. "Did you not want me to?"

"No, of course. Always appreciate your company." Remus patted Sirius's shoulder, then left his hand there because his arm was tired. Then, because the connection between his brain and mouth was not as strong as usual, he added, "But I thought you'd want to spend this week with James since he isn't glued to Lily's side like he has been for the past three months. I know I'm not a great replacement."

"Replacement? Moony, honestly, you can be so dense."

"Don't insult me in my own bed," Remus protested, not sure where this conversation was headed after the unintentional vulnerability on his part. 

"What would you like me to do to you in your own bed?" Sirius said into his ear. 

Remus stifled a laugh, hand over his mouth.

Sirius moved Remus's hand away from his mouth and kissed him. 

It was so surreal that for a moment, Remus wondered if he was hallucinating. But it seemed unlikely that his mind could conjure all these details - Sirius's fingers in his hair, his hand on Remus's hip, the taste of Sirius's mouth. It occurred to Remus that this was likely to end badly, but he was kissing Sirius back. 

Remus cupped Sirius's jaw with his hand. Sirius slid a hand under Remus's shirt, cold fingers gently tracing his oldest scar.

Remus pulled away. "This isn't a good idea." His body thought otherwise. Every place Sirius touched him was tingling. 

"Why not?" Sirius ran his thumb over Remus's bottom lip.

"You're going to regret this later," Remus said, wondering if it would be entirely unethical to obliviate Sirius. Their friendship wasn't likely to survive this otherwise. Especially not if they continued kissing and one thing led to another.

"No I won't." Sirius's eyes were red, but earnest. "I've wanted to do this for ages."

Remus felt like there were ten different trains of thought moving through his head on a collision course. "That seems unlikely."

Sirius sat up and took Remus's hands in his. "Remus. Moony. It doesn't have to be so hard."

Remus's heart was beating far too fast. He wanted very badly to believe Sirius. 

Sirius stared at him, looking as though Remus’s response would make or break him.

All at once, Remus remembered how tired he was. Between being awake all night and smoking quite a lot, there was no way he could think about this clearly right now. "Can we… can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"Alright. Whatever you want." Sirius gave Remus a quick kiss on the forehead and then got beneath the blankets and snuggled up next to Remus.

Remus thought about asking him to leave, but that wasn't what either of them wanted. Surely this alone wouldn’t be their undoing. He put his arm around Sirius's waist and Sirius made a small, contented sound.

They would figure it out tomorrow. Remus closed his eyes and let himself feel safe in the warmth of Sirius’s presence.

[utanoprince-imagines]

To my dearest person, happy birthday

Prompt: Spending the day with Reiji on his birthday

Characters: Kotobuki Reiji, reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1,270

Warnings: None!

A/N: To my best boy in utapri, happy happy birthday! Just like the title suggests, Reiji is a character I hold dear to my heart and honestly I don't think any words are able to express how thankful I am that I got to know about him. For being my emotional support and for bringing out the best in me, thank you Reiji <3

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217902

You woke up to a strong pair of arms wrapped sturdily around your waist, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against your back. The sound of his breathing was steady, letting you know that he was in a deep slumber. You reached out and grabbed your phone from the side table, unlocking it to check the time.

9.13am. Still early, especially considering that Reiji was at the company until the early hours of the morning celebrating his birthday with the members of Quartet Night and Starish. 

Your lips formed a smile. That’s right, today was his birthday, it was his special day. It wasn’t the first time the both of you celebrated this day together, in fact, this was the fifth time you would be celebrating this special occasion. But every year, you made sure he felt special. Of course while you had plenty of ideas in your head on how the both of you could spend the day, you ultimately left it to Reiji to make the final call. 

You figured that it would be a good idea to start off his day by making breakfast, you didn’t want your boyfriend to wake up feeling hungry after all. You reached down, carefully trying to pry his arms around you, but that only resulted in him clutching you tighter than before.

You heard mumbling coming from behind you, something along the lines of “you aren’t allowed to leave the bed until you fulfill my daily cuddle quota”. Turning around to face him, you greeted him gently with a simple “good morning”. Reiji’s face immediately lit up, his eyes forming crescents. His hands finally released themselves from your waist and went up to cup your face, pulling you into a kiss.

“Good morning, my love.” He whispered. 

“What do you want to do today?” You asked.

Reiji slipped into deep thought, with you lying next to him waiting in anticipation, whatever he wanted to do, no matter how random, you were sure it was going to be great. 

“Okay I have two ideas, either I spend the whole day with you, or I spend the whole day with you” came his reply. 

Oh god.

“Reiji!” You jokingly scolded him, breaking out into a giggle nonetheless at his silly antics. 

“Really though, I’m actually kind of burned out from last night, so spending the day at home would be good, it would be nice to unwind once in a while.”

“Of course, whatever you wish for, but please let me go to the kitchen to cook breakfast?”

Reiji shot you a small pout, and you promised to give back his cuddling time when the both of you settled on the couch to watch television later. Only then did he finally let go of you.

Turning around to close the door shut, you saw him retreat back into the warmth of the covers, a small portion of his brown hair peeking out from beneath. 

Reiji awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, his favourite beverage to start his day. Throwing the covers off himself, he made his way towards the kitchen. Standing at the kitchen door, he couldn’t help but smile as he saw you gently scoop a teaspoon of sugar into his black coffee - exactly the way he liked it. Next to you on the counter top was two plates of breakfast. However, it was different from his usual rice and side dish. You had cooked up more of an English breakfast. A beautifully fried sunny side up, together with sausages and slices of toast. 

Reiji vaguely remembered telling you how he missed the food he had when he was travelling in the UK. While it was no surprise to him that your sharp memory often caught even the most minute details of every conversation you had with him, he was still giddy with happiness each time you surprised him like this. 

Walking towards you, his arms once again found his way around your waist, he knew he was being awfully needy today, but it was his birthday after all and he could do whatever he wanted to right? 

“Oh Reiji! You’re awake!” You smiled, passing him his coffee, which he gladly took a sip from. 

The two of you brought out your breakfast plates to the small dining table. You set your cup of tea down on your left, and Reiji set his cup of coffee down opposite your tea cup. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t add milk in your tea today,” Reiji commented. 

“Wasn’t feeling it” came your reply, as you took a sip from your cup. 

As the both of you began on breakfast, Reiji couldn’t stop commenting on how good your food was and how it could rival those he had in the UK. You figured he was just being nice (and mildly excited). Even though you grew up in a household which had this sort of breakfast once a week, you believed that your execution of this dish was still a far cry from the locals. 

“So… what movie do you wanna watch after this?”

Reiji took a brief pause as he sat there thinking, his mouth still actively chewing on the toast he just took a bite from. 

“A dog’s journey”

“Wasn’t that the movie that you refused to watch when it was in the cinemas cause you knew it would make you bawl.”

“But look if we watch it now the only person who would see me cry is you, and that’s okay with me.” He argued.

You chuckled and took a bite from your breakfast. Reiji was silly, so silly sometimes, but you loved him for it. 

Snuggling into the sofa together, the two of you began watching movies one after another. True to his word, Reiji was left bawling after watching ‘A Dog’s Journey.’ But Reiji wasn’t the only one who was left crying after the movie, as you found yourself grabbing tissues to wipe your tears before giving up and using your hands. 

Afterwards the both of you were reduced to fits of laughter from watching ‘Deadpool’, and stared in awe at the action scenes ‘Kingsman’ had to offer. Before you knew it, you were snuggled up even closer to Reiji when he decided to watch ‘The Conjuring’

Quick enough, the day was coming to an end, and while Reiji had no doubt enjoyed himself, you were about to make his day even better. Reaching into your wallet, you pulled out a small brown envelope and passed it to your boyfriend.

With his long slender fingers, Reiji pried open the envelope slowly before pulling out the contents from inside.

Two plane tickets.

Specifically, two plane tickets to the UK. Reiji held the paper in his hand, his brain trying to process what was going on. He blinked. Once. Twice.

“We’re going on a holiday?” He finally said.

You nodded excitedly, explaining that you already had the permission from the company to keep his schedule free for the end of the year.

“It’s been a while since we went on a trip together, and I know it's part of your bucket list to travel to the UK together so I thought it would be a good chance.”

Without muttering a word, Reiji left the tickets on the coffee table and pulled you into a tight hug, one that was loud enough to express all the gratitude he had for you. 

Pulling away, he gazed into your eyes, a faint smile dancing across his face.

“To my dearest person, I love you.” He said.

“And to my dearest Reiji, happy birthday.”

[fmdjaeyeol]

word counts: 274 + 260 + 276 + 320 + 251 + 261 reward: +5 tracker points

assuming your muse has changed in some way, be it internally or as a result of a change of the external factors around them, how is your muse different? these can be as small as an opinion on a song they hadn’t released previously or as big as a major change in their background.

jaeyeol changed the most out of all my muses admitted. there’s been a couple major switches with them. the biggest one is the change of pronouns that yeol is using (which are they/them/he/him) in addition to the bit of a gender crisis they’re having at the moment. they view of gender was always a bit skewed because of their parents, mostly their dad and all the rather conservative and religious beliefs he has. it took jaeyeol years to accept that they were queer and interesting men/male-presenting people, and still they struggle to admit that out loud even in spaces where they know no one will judge them. honestly i don’t think jaeyeol though much about gender and how they perceived their own gender, and honestly neither did i. it kinda hit me out of nowhere too, so that’s the story that jaeyeol is also getting. for now, they’re still very confused and have no idea what’s going on and the story here is that jaeyeol is testing out new pronouns to get a full idea of how not being perceived as only male makes them feel within space they’re comfortable in and giving everything a good, long Think. 

other changes include yeol being a year younger now, it never felt right to have them as a 97 liner tbh so i bumped it down a year and moved the date a couple days back as well. and of course jaeyeol got a faceclaim change. lastly, they are no longer a main vocal, they are now a dance and rap legend ft occasional vocals and honestly i love it for them. 

what does your muse think of their company and their group?

in short, jaeyeol likes catalyst overall. the music and lyrics are a bit weird some times but honestly it works for them somehow, and it also fits well with their personal style of dancing, which they’ve been able to bring to the forefront in helping choreograph for songs. the group has allowed them to continue to explore dance styles as they’ve choreographed and tried to figure out things that wouldn’t just work nicely for himself but also all the other members and how they dance. in addition to liking the general concepts and music, they’ve made some friends along the way, which is always nice. in terms of how they feel about gold star, just like every idol probably does, jaeyeol would like to fight them sometimes for the decisions they make or the way they lay out catalyst’s schedule, and their favorite pass time is stressing out their poor manager. though there’s no boiling hatred or anger towards anyone and they’re just vibing. all of this is pretty much the same way jaeyeol felt towards dimensions/unity prior to the restructuring of everything. the only real difference there is that previous jaeyeol was a bit salty they weren’t getting solo schedules and opportunities but that’s different now (maybe because i’m getting better at making claims and establishing what i want to do with my children, maybe not, the world may never know). so yeah, like i said, generally jaeyeol is pleased with catalyst and their success, even if that success isn’t what gold star has initially expected of them. 

is your muse on their first contract or their second? if they’ve renewed, what were their feelings around that at the time and what were their hopes for their second contract? if they haven’t renewed, what are their current thoughts on the end of their eventual first contract?

catalyst is still on their first contract, having debuted only in may of 2018. they haven’t been around long enough to move out of their dorms and jaeyeol is still stuck with a roommate and no pet to love on. their first contract renewal isn’t going to be happening until 2025, so both yeol and all the catalyst members have lots of time to think on what they want for their futures. jaeyeol is very appreciative of the fact that it’s still a good few years off because honestly, they have not a clue what their thoughts are on the end of their first contract. it’s weird for them to think that they would have dedicated seven years of their life to catalyst by then, and almost a full decade in total once you factor in the amount of time they spent training prior to debut. the few times that they have thought about this contract ending and them potentially signing onto another seven years spent at gold star has resulted in them going back in forth onw hat they want to do with their lives. on one hand, money is great, but on the other they could potentially have a successful solo career and be doing their own thing. also they’d be thirty-four years old by the time the end of a secret control rolled around to an end and ideally jaeyeol would like to have done the whole settling down, got married, and maybe even had a kid or two by that point. it really isn’t appealing to them to still be bopping around and going woo woo woo woo firetruck at that point. 

what are your muse’s goals and motivations?

jaeyeol’s main goals right now are to continue what little bit of a solo career that gold star has let them begin to build. it was just doing some choreography for catalyst but now they’re also being allowed to do modeling projects and expand more outside of the group, which is something that they are firmly enjoying. it’s not that they don’t love catalyst and being a member of the group, but they also like the idea of having an established solo career that is separate from just being an idol so that when catalyst eventually comes to an end sometime in the future, they have something to fall back on and rely on. i guess this is also their motivation in many ways. stability is something that they never really had growing up, which is odd considering that their family was well off in many different ways, but still, they want something more for themselves than the environment they grew up in, which was rather unpleasant. their current goals in relation to that is just continuing to grow and try more things, eventually they want to go on and start choreographing outside of the group and for other groups and maybe even solo songs if the opportunity arrives. in addition to their motivations i mentioned earlier, jaeyeol also just wants to like have something to take pride in and prove to people in their life that were trying to steer them in an entirely different direction where they didn’t want to go, that their happiness was most important and that they could be successful and respected even if they hadn’t gone on to be working a standard desk job or become a doctor or lawyer. they just want to be more than what they thought they could be while growing up and maybe one day be confident enough to speak out more and motivate others to do the same.

what is one conflict, internal or external, that your muse is currently dealing with, has recently dealt with, or will need to deal with in the future?

i touched on this fairly extensively in the first question honestly and explained the one real large ordeal that they are internally dealing with at the moment, and to reiterate, that is their gender and their gender expression. the idea of being anything other than male had never crossed jaeyeol’s mind, let alone potentially questioning their gender to a point of going outside the standard binaries. on top of doing that all in a country where something like that isn’t a widely accepted or supported thing. they thought the only struggle they were going to have like this was their sexual orientation but at least, they were proven wrong. the conflict was brought upon because of me actually and suddenly i realized that i was naturally using gender neutral pronouns to refer to jaeyeol and took it as a sign that my brain was trying to tell me something. so here we are. the idea of jaeyeol questioning their own gender crosssed my mind briefly when i first conjured the image of the muse in my head but it was never any substantial thought, but apparently i had the thought for good reason. and like i also said earlier, they’re testing out the whole option of being non-binary and being perceived as such with those closest to them, including their partner and friends as of right now. though they have no idea where they would be on that spectrum, in terms of whether they feel like they are agender, genderfluid, etc.

if your muse has established career claims, what are their thoughts on their career so far? if they do not, how do they feel about not having individual activities yet? what would they like to do in the future, if anything? if they don’t have ambitions for individual activities, explain why.

jaeyeol is living their absolute best life in their career right now if they were to be straight up asked, even though it isn’t much of a solo career outside of their group in the way that people would probably think about having a solo career like having solo music (which is something they aren’t super interested in honestly). the only things that they really have done on their own is some solo magazine covers because gold star media finally came to their sense and realized that they have that absolute beauty that is jaeyeol jeon and are putting those looks to great use other than being (arguably) catalyst’s center or one of the unofficial center’s of the group. so far there’s only been two but they look forward to doing many, many more in the future when the calls come in asking for them. the other part of their established career claims come from partial choreography claims on a few of catalyst’s tracks, including: firetruck, cherry bomb, simon says, and kick it. the list is short but in my brain they’ve been doing their own dance choreographies to songs on instagram/ social medias as well, those are just some of the real official things they have their name attached to at the moment. both of those paths are ones that they would like to continue on with and hope they get to for a long time. the next step they would like to take is choreographing for other groups or people so they can keep expanding their talents and abilities.