#the kiss being Imogen silencing her in a way

[distant--shadow]

wanting to draw the latest imodna kiss but being overly aware I have drawn so many kisses that I'm basically repeating my lines 🥲

[socallmedaisy]

Laudna has been quiet since they were shown to guest rooms in the Castle for the night. Imogen recognises the silence; it usually means Laudna is lost in her own thoughts, or maybe today it's memories of this place, only now she has no way of knowing exactly what Laudna is thinking about. 

She's glad of that, truly, but there are times like this when she misses it, just a little. 

They're sharing a bed like they always do, Imogen curled into Laudna, Laudna bent towards her like a flower reaching for the light, their hands joined loosely between them, the tips of Laudna's fingers caught up in Imogen's. Fearne is breathing deep and steady in the other bed—none of them had said anything, but when the guards had shown them to two guest rooms, the three of them had walked purposefully into one of them and shut the door behind them before anyone else could follow—and Imogen inches her head forward, squeezes Laudna's fingers until Laudna's eyes flicker open to look at her. 

(It's the biggest tell she's not really asleep; when she is, her eyes are open.)

Imogen glances towards Fearne's bed, then taps a finger against her own temple and arches an eyebrow in a question, and waits for Laudna to nod her consent before she joins their minds together. 

Are you alright? Imogen tries to keep her thoughts gentle, like maybe Laudna will startle. She bites her lip and then asks the second part of her question, the one that's been rolling around in the pit of her stomach since they were getting ready for bed in silence. Since she was mean to a man who had done nothing other than share his name with a boy Laudna used to know. Did I do something? 

What? Laudna's thought comes back at once, not quite as gentle. No, I—

Imogen forces herself to wait, watches Laudna shake her head imperceptibly against the pillow. 

Laudna frowns. It's just this place. And—

And what? Imogen asks, anxiety twisting in her chest, when no more words come. 

I don't like being here. But I don't think I hate it. And I certainly don't hate the de Rolos. But she does. And sometimes I'm not sure how much of what I'm feeling about this place is me and how much of it is… not me. Laudna meets her eyes again, unblinking and then looks away quickly, like she's ashamed. Imogen hates it, instantly. 

It must be hard to come back to the place where— Imogen swallows, To come back here, after everything that happened. I don't think you have to have your feelings all neatly sorted out. I'm not sure anyone could given the circumstances. 

She swallows the urge to say she's not sure how she feels about this place either, how last time she was here and Laudna wasn't and it was one of the worst times of her life. 

Laudna doesn't say anything, but she does tighten her grip on Imogen's fingers, and after a second she dips her head forward so she can press her mouth against the tips of them. It makes Imogen shiver. 

I thought that's what we could do later, Laudna says eventually, and for a second Imogen is so focused on Laudna kissing her fingers she thinks Laudna means something else entirely. Go to try to find the good parts of Whitestone, if I can remember any. I thought it might help. She shifts on the bed, her knees bumping up against Imogen's. 

Finally, Laudna glances up at her, through her lashes. Imogen releases a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. 

But then after what happened with Andrew I'm not sure I should let you loose on anyone else I remember or who might remember me. There's a spark in Laudna's eye when she says it, her sing song lilt back in Imogen's head, and Imogen huffs out a breath, embarrassed. 

Can you blame me for defending you? If I ever meet that kid—

Darling, Laudna cuts in, leaning forward quickly, you realise you don't have to make up for every bad thing that ever happened to me? I already have you. That's enough. 

Imogen swallows, hard, and tangles her fingers more tightly with Laudna's. I wish you wouldn't say stuff like that when we're sharing a room. She wonders if her thought might have sounded breathless in Laudna's head. She hopes it did, hopes Laudna knows exactly how it makes Imogen feel when she says things like that. 

Laudna's eyes flick over towards the other bed again. Fearne can't hear us—

I know, but it makes me want to kiss you so bad. 

For half a second, she can't believe she said it, but then Imogen watches Laudna's pale cheeks grow a shade darker and she's glad she did. 

Oh, Laudna thinks. She shifts again, and it brings her even closer, her lips inches from Imogen's. Imogen watches Laudna's eyes flick down then back up to meet Imogen's gaze.  Maybe just once couldn't hurt. 

Imogen silences the voice that says it's a bad idea and darts forward to close the space between them at once, her fingers nudging Laudna's chin up to meet her. She presses her lips to Laudna's softly, almost afraid to move, but not wanting it to end, her forehead coming to rest against Laudna's before she breaks the contact. 

They stay there, savouring the closeness. 

I'm glad you're here, Laudna says in her head, and the thought is soft like a secret. Always, but especially today. 

Imogen presses her forehead a little closer and nods against Laudna's cold skin. I'm glad you're here too. 

[uselessgayshit]

takes place at the end of ep 65

———

“Goodnight, girls!” Zhuddana called after them, closing her door for the night.

“Goodnight, Zhuddana,” Imogen responded, shutting their own door and pressing her forehead against it, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Silence except for her breathing. She wasn’t used to that.

She slowly turned. In the dim candlelight, she watched Laudna reach, long fingers attempting to undo her corset. Her head turned to the side, hair swinging across her back, and she looked at Imogen over her shoulder. “Imogen?”

“Yeah,” she cleared her throat, “Yeah, of course.”

She took the few steps forward, fingers shaking. She was hyperaware that Laudna’s neck crooked even more, eyes following her, watching her. “Are you all right?”

She forced a smile, swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yeah.”

She clenched her fingers to stop them from shaking. This was nothing out of the ordinary. They spent years on the road together, during which she did this every night. Their time apart was paltry compared to what they had been through. There shouldn’t be this chasm between them, not after what happened, not after what they had said to one another.

“Is this one harder?”

Imogen couldn’t help but laugh and she couldn’t keep the slight edge out of it. “No, Laudna, this one is not harder.”

The corset had nothing to do with what was harder about the situation. Returning to Jrusar, a place with which she was familiar, had been all she wanted but when she arrived, everything was quiet. Of her own doing, of course, she knew that. But as the front doors of the tavern opened and Laudna appeared, eyes widening as she took in Imogen, it was still quiet. In that moment Imogen couldn’t move, suspended between an intense need to feel Laudna in her arms again and a fear that all of the swirling thoughts she had had while on Wildemount, and the truth she had stopped shoving away to the deepest recesses, would ruin her. She had lost her music and she was struggling to decide if that was what was best.

“Can you - do you want to take it off?”

Imogen’s hesitation was like a bomb in the small room. Her hands stilled against the ties.

“The circlet, I mean.” Laudna had twisted back around so Imogen couldn’t see her face.

“I don’t think that’s wise.”

“You’ve dealt with the sounds of the city -

“That’s not why, Laudna.” The words came out curt, so different from the afternoon when all she was able to express was love and adoration and comfort. She had curled her fingers into Laudna’s on their way back from the market, though that wasn’t out of the norm. Laudna had made her tea as they sat with Zhuddana that evening but that was nothing Laudna hadn’t done before. Their room and their bed had been a place of solace but now it was thrown into exaggerated relief and Imogen’s mind started racing into their past.

“I know.” The words were only a whisper on the wind.

Imogen finished undoing the corset, dropping her arms and creating space between them. Laudna shrugged it off, gently folding it and setting it to the side.

“I can’t imagine the relief that brings to not have dreams.”

“What?” Imogen said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Laudna gestured toward the circlet. “To keep it on when you sleep and all.”

Imogen blinked and repeated herself again, “What?”

“I understand why you don’t want to take it off,” Laudna responded as if she couldn’t sense that anything was wrong as she pulled down the covers on one side of the bed.

That should have been the reason Imogen was desperate to keep the circlet on - and it had been, at first - but things had changed in the last day. Despite Laudna’s openness, insecurity raged through Imogen’s veins. She had always known what Laudna was thinking before and now she felt the need to second guess her instincts towards the woman who had never only been a best friend. Despite that, she found that she liked the novelty of not knowing. Of being able to ask the question, “Can I kiss you?” and seeing Laudna react to it instead of knowing how she would react. That she could ask a question now that wasn’t part of the little game she played to make everyone feel like they had choice.

Letting Laudna choose to come back to her had been one of the most painful moments of her life. At her core, logically, she understood that if Laudna chose to die, it had nothing to do with her. She would be ripped apart by it, another casualty of Delilah’s cruelty. But that choice had everything to do with the fact that Laudna’s death had been stolen from her once before. That would never happen again. Imogen swore in that moment, that if Laudna did return, Imogen would give her every choice imaginable to make for herself.

If this wasn’t the perfect place to start…

“Is it all right if I still sleep with you?”

Laudna had climbed into bed and looked up at Imogen, eyebrows furrowed almost comically. “We always sleep together.”

Laudna sounded shy and lonely. Her voice weaved around the room, pulling at Imogen’s heart strings.

“I just wanted to check.”

“Of course.” Laudna patted the bed next to her.

Imogen unbuckled her boots, sitting on the edge of the bed to slide them down her legs.

“Is this going to change things?” Laudna sounded so small, scared, something Imogen never wanted to make her.

Imogen paused, one boot off, and turned to give Laudna a soft smile. She wasn’t sure she had succeeded in not making it a sad one as well. Imogen couldn’t very well lie to herself. If Laudna had rejected her in the market earlier, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. It would have cracked something within her adding to a memory of another crack between them. She hid her own fear and sadness at the thought behind the smile, encouraging Laudna best she could. “Well… that’s kind of up to you Laudna.”

“We’ve always slept in the same bed. I… I didn’t sleep well when you were away from me.” Imogen’s heart swooped in her chest. Laudna wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Hey, this doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to.”

Laudna looked up, eyes watering. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Imogen chuckled. She had spent so much of her time running away from things that it felt like a nice change of pace. “And you think I do?”

Laudna cracked a small smile. “I suppose not.”

Imogen finished pulling off her boot and crawled up the rest of the bed, sliding under the covers. She felt Laudna shift to blow out the candle that she would have left burning all night, her mind distracted by other things.

“Is this all right?” She heard in her ear as Laudna’s hand gently settled against her waist. Imogen nodded, grabbing Laudna’s hand and pulling it around her, clasping their hands together against the mattress in front of her stomach. Laudna’s breath was chilly against her neck as they breathed together.

“I’m terrified.”

“Of?”

“Right now? Mostly everything.”

“Of me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Of us?”

Laudna was silent. Imogen couldn’t have this conversation with her back turned. She rolled over, coming face to face with worry. She reached her hand up, trying to smooth the small wrinkles in Laudna’s skin. Wiped away black ichor that pooled in the corner of her eyes like tears. Fought down the urge to kiss her again.

Laudna blinked up at her, eyes dark and nervous. Imogen held her gaze as she slid her hand to cradle Laudna’s face.

“I’ll say this every day if I have to. I’m in this with you until the end. Always have been. Always will be. I promise.”

[unicyclehippo]

release (cr3) for the one word prompt

‘okay. alright,’ imogen says when nana morri gestures for them to go, that all is prepared. no one has stepped into the muck yet. ‘this might be a dumbass idea—‘

‘say it,’ chet encourages, immediately. ‘that’s pretty much the main thing we’ve learned today, right? no bad ideas when they’re just ideas.’

imogen nods, once and then more quickly. ‘right. okay. well, okay. okay. y’all might’ve noticed i took off the circlet—‘ orym nods. so does laudna. the others glance up to where it’s been sitting, which makes sense, being too occupied with their own things to see the tiny change. ‘so. i can look into your minds and then we’ll know who is the doppelgänger.’

silence.

then,

‘it sort of defeats the purpose of the challenge, doesn’t it?’ laudna inquires. ‘you know you’re welcome in my mind any time you wish, darling, but…this is supposed to be about trust, is it not?’

‘i dunno. i’m with mogen. trust is fine when you’re with your pals but if there’s two fuckos in the mix?’ chetney narrows his eyes. ‘bet i could sniff ‘em out. wonder how that works, changing into us. reckon they smell like us? walk like us?’

‘doppelgängers are fucking excellent at what they do. real hard to find.’ ashton scowls at the sidelong looks that earns them. ‘what? i fought one before.’

‘what do they look like cracked open?’ chetney cups a hand around his ear when ashton mumbles something. ‘what was that?’

‘i didn’t get it, okay?’ ashton snaps. ‘it got away. it can look like anyone, of course it fucking got away.’

‘hm. excellent at what they do. got away from you and your hammer… maybe. or maybe you are a doppel and you’re big talking your friends!’ chetney accuses, whipping out a chisel.

‘whoa!’ orym stepped between them, hands outstretched. ‘hold on.’

‘oh, so accusations are a good move but readin’ minds isn’t. got it.’

‘not helping, imogen.’

she lifts her hands in surrender. turns a worried look toward the muck and the altars. they’re wasting time with this. it’d be so easy—read for unfamiliar fey minds, kick out the doubles, grab the sticks.

‘it’s about trust,’ laudna whispers in her ear. she touches a finger to imogen’s wrist as if she doesn’t know - isn’t sure if it’s okay - and some of that is ambient thoughts, imogen thinks, which means it’s gotta be laudna. right? how far did the doubles magic extend? had laudna been thinking about that through both their tests, if it would be wrong to touch her? she grabs laudna’s hand tight. laudna sighs, relieved. ‘it’s about trust,’ she says again. orym nods. ‘what if… we must trust ourselves. our judgement, our instincts. do you remember what it was like to be a group at the start? we didn’t know one another but we had a mutual goal. we trusted one another just enough.’

‘enough to think you guys wouldn’t fuck us over,’ ashton muttered.

‘or you us,’ orym pointed out.

‘point.’

‘so…’ imogen picks up where laudna had left off, giving her hand a squeeze. laudna wraps her other hand tight around her wrist and leans in close, close enough for the floral-rot of her smell to overtake imogen’s senses, lighting her world up pink and bright. ‘uh. we - we can pretend we’re brand new. we need these branches.’

‘i think we can all agree imogen’s herself,’ FCG begins.

‘what! i mean, i am, but -‘

chetney hoots a laugh. ‘you’re blushing over laudna like you’ve never kissed a girl. you have kissed her, right?’

‘yes!’

‘multiple times!’ laudna insists.

‘ooh, multiple,’ chetney teases. ‘sounds sexy.’

sounds like it’s none of your business, imogen says harshly direct into chetney’s mind.

he winces, hand going to his temple. ‘yeah, that’s our imogen. damn! can you chill out? you gotta scream it?’

she narrows her eyes. he flinches, exaggerated, but there’s a smug grin curling his lips up on one side. it feels good to tease and be teased like this. imogen releases a breath she’s been holding onto way too long. rubs her temple.

‘so i’m normal. chet’s normal.’

‘fearne’s been quiet,’ laudna husks in her ear.

fearne’s ears prick up. ‘whoa! ‘scuse you!’

‘well it’s true!’ laudna hunches into herself, uses her grip on imogen’s hand as an anchor, ‘Its true, it is, its true, and none of us would suspect you, she’s your nana, it could be you—’

‘laud.’

‘it could be true,’ laudna says, lip jutting forward.

imogen kisses her. ‘it could be,’ she agrees, voice gentle. ‘but you’re the one who just told us we need to trust.’ she watches laudna blink, then blink again.

‘i did. i- i’m sorry, fearne.’

the faun feigns insult for a moment before she smiles cheekily. ‘that’s alright. i wasn’t listening anyway. i was thinking about trust.’ she eyes each of them, then her nana, and with a very casual sigh and a shrug, steps into the muck.

‘fearne!’

‘we’re not getting anything done hanging out there. orym? wanna get on my back? the mud looks pretty deep.’

orym scrambles up to her shoulders, leaning over her head to peer across the muck. ‘i think i see a path to the first altar. see?’ he points.

fearne hums. ‘i could drown you in the mud pretty easy.’

orym blooms a flower in his hand, tucks it into her hair. ‘please don’t.’

she laughs and walks deeper into the mud, into the test. the mud parts behind her, vague currents pulling through the sludge. it makes sense. there’s such a gravity to fearne. such a pull. did it feel any different? was this still fearne?

trust.

chetney uses ashton’s arm to climb him, keep him lifted out of the mud. he perches on the shoulder of the new arm. laudna eyes the mud warily. it sucks around imogen’s ankles and she knows immediately that FCG and laudna are going to have trouble.

‘ash, wait.’ he flinches when they talk to him now. his mind—she’s not looking but she can’t help but hear—his mind flinches too, scatters like the thunder wasps. flighty, storm front. then reordering to attack. was he afraid her next words would be, stay here? we can’t trust you? kill yourself? ‘can you carry FCG?’

ashton limps to FCG. ‘okay?’

‘sure!’

‘i’ll put you down when you want. you just gotta say.’

‘i know,’ FCG says. ‘i trust you!’

ashton ducks their head. they lift up FCG with a grunt and march into the mud behind fearne, wordlessly following where she leads.

imogen turns. ‘i can make us fly. keep your pretty new dress outta the mud.’ laudna flushes a mottled sort of pink-purple. she nods. her thoughts are syrup sticky-sweet as she meets Imogen’s eyes. ‘i love you.’

laudna smiles. ‘but do you trust me?’ when imogen hesitates, laudna brushes a crooked finger over imogen’s cheek. ‘i don’t think you have since i broke your rock.’

‘i forgave you for that months ago, laud,’

‘yes i know. i know. but there’s a part of you that knows i’m—i’m not me. i’m her.’

‘no—‘

‘yes. and you don’t trust her. you hate her. she disgusts you.’

‘laudna.’

‘it’s fine,’ laudna tells her, so quietly, so sweetly, so sadly. ‘i know. i understand. i feel it myself. but for right now, my love, do you trust that i am myself?’

imogen nods. how can she not? it’s laudna, standing right in front of her. she lets her magic fill her, rise into her skin and out, crackling into her air surrounding her, surrounding them. hooking an arm around laudna’s waist, she lifts them both into the air.

the first and second branches are easy. they’re guarded by traps and quick, muddy creatures they repel and run from, not wanting to harm anything in nana’s realm that can’t be healed.

they’re approaching the third branch when fearne says,

‘i don’t think any of us are doubles.’

ashton pauses. ‘wait. what?’

‘i don’t think any of us—‘

‘we heard you, fearnie,’ imogen says through gritted teeth. she’s trying to run the maths. two doubles. laudna and chet are definitely who they say they are, so is she. so it’s orym and fearne, most likely. right? ‘why do you think that?’

‘it doesn’t make sense! this is supposed to be trust building for all of us. why would any of us sit out?’

‘it’s a trick,’ laudna breathes. ‘a conniving trick. if we are all ourselves—‘

‘but we think two of us aren’t ourselves,’ oryn takes up the train of thought,

‘then we waste time being suspicious of each other instead of just doing what we’re supposed to do.’

‘seems like an apt tie-in to what we hope to do on the moon,’ FCG says, cradled in ashton’s arms. ‘less likely to succeed in our mission if we’re too busy double-checking what everyone else is up to.’

‘fearne,’ imogen breathes. ‘that’s brilliant.’

fearne flips her hair, demurs with a coy smile. ‘of course.’

‘plus, wouldn’t it make us trust each other less if we couldn’t figure it out now and forever more sort of weren’t sure if any of our friends had been replaced?’

‘true, but when you put it that way, that does kinda sound like something nana would do,’ fearne laughs. ‘look out, trap in the mud here.’ orym leans over and drops a white snapdragon blossom where fearne points. ‘okay, third stick, here we go!’

[silent-dark-entries]

Something I’m in the middle of writing !!!

Word Count: 1175!!

Warnings: Still proofreading so maybe some mistakes! Also my first Wizarding world fic so its probably not accurate ._. This also will be a smut but I’m just plot building :))

Oh!!! And seizure warning!!

Birdie looks herself in the mirror for the fourth time. Was her dress too short, too tight? She can't breathe, so she loosens her ribbons...for the third time. Maybe a muggle designer wasn't the brightest idea, but it's too late. Birdie can feel her friends, Nerissa and Imogene, growing impatient waiting outside in the Slytherin common room. They never have troubles getting dressed for these types of things. They're the exact same body type, if it looks good on one of them it'll surely look good on the other.

Birdie looks one more time. A green plaid slip dress, and shiny Mary Jane platforms  Final decision.

Birdie takes a swig of the smuggled in firewhisky as her and her fellow Slytherins make their way to the Gryffindor common room. The burn is dreadful but nostalgic nonetheless.

Birdie listens to her friend's talk but doesn't give them a second thought. She feels guilty of course. She had ignored their letters all summer holiday scared they would've known what she was up to. Scared they knew what her Mother had done. She didn't even sit with them during the sorting ceremony. In fact, she hid in the toilets when the food had come out. But they found her and cornered her asking if they had done something wrong. She denied it and just blamed it on an upset tummy.

Someone in the front of the line of students does the secret knock making the fat lady creek open. The students move through the silenced, glowing green, stone tunnel into the common room full of students. Birdie takes another swig of the fire whiskey before it's swiped by Imogene.

"Pace yourself Birdie." Nerissa says as they find their designated corner to stand in. Imogene throws her sandy Blonde hair behind her tiny shoulders before taking a hefty sip. She screws her face as the burn leaves her throat.

"Fuck's sake Birdie! They weren't kidding when they named this shit." Imogene rasps out. The three girls laugh before taking more tiny sips each.

Birdie floats towards the dance crowd as muggle hip hop blares through the speakers, her friends following closely behind her. Birdie throws her arms up along with the firewhiskey as she yells along to the lyrics of Rump Shaker. Birdie shakes her ass to the beat and occasionally drops to the floor as she's sandwiched between the two girls.

The crowd cheers as the song ends. Birdie opens her eyes that she hadn't realized were shut tight. The room spins beneath her feet as she makes her way towards a group of people sitting on the floor in a circle.

"What is this? huh, some kind of prayer circle?" Birdie snorts out. Birdie hates being seen as a mean girl but it's what people expect from her.

"It's kiss or drink." A gravelly voice from below her says. Birdie looks down at the familiar voice that she usually has great talent in ignoring to see none other than Fred Weasley staring back at her. He smiles up at her before blowing out the smoke from the joint he held between his lips. "We'd ask you to join us, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to tarnish that niminy-piminy attitude you keep up."

Birdie's jaw dropped. Her first thought is to take her bottle she has clenched in her hand and smash it against his head. But instead she sits where she stood inbetween Fred and some nobody sixth year. She keeps her eyes straight ahead ignoring the stares coming from the rest of the group.

Hannah Abbot, a geeky blonde girl leans forward and spins the green translucent bottle that sits in the middle of the circle. The groups hoops and howls as it lands on Neville Longbottom. Hannah giggles as she crawls across the circle closer to Neville before feverishly locking lips with him. Birdie bites her tongue trying desperately not to gag at the sight of the spit string between them as they part. Neville spins the bottle awkwardly fast.

Birdie takes the last swig of her fire whiskey instantly regretting it for it finally sent her over the tipsy versus drunk threshold. She wipes the dribble from her mouth before putting the bottle down between her thighs. She looks at the bottle in the middle to see who it landed on and it's of course her. Birdie looks up to see Neville moving towards her slowly.

"Take the drink Longbottom." Birdie says through her teeth. Neville nods defeatedly before throwing a shot from the bottle back. Birdie rolls her eyes before clumsily leaning in to spin the bottle. She looks around the circle to see if there's anyone worthy enough to kiss but sees no one she actually cares to kiss. Which works out for her for the bottle lands on herself.

"Well I can't kiss myself." Birdie picks up her shot.

"It's on Freddie." George cheekily says. "You have to kiss Freddie!" Birdie looks back down at the bottle. Certainly it's slightly pointed to the left, straight at Fred.

"Just let her take the shot! I told you she's too priggish to kiss anyone here." Fred sneers. Birdie slams her shot glass down and gets on her knees. She throws her arm around Fred's neck and the other hand on his cheek. Pushing him closer to her face until their lips finally meet. Soft and innocent first until Fred dips deeper snaking his arm around her body pulling her closer and slipping his tongue against hers.

Birdie breaks first scooting back on her knees leaving Fred's body cold next to her. She takes the joint from his hand whilst standing and stumbling away to find her friends, leaving the the small circle speechless

"Well" George says breaking the silence. "I don't know how we could continue after that."

Birdie finds her friends in the corner with their arms crossed staring back at her. She takes a hit of the joint and offers it to her friends in which they partake.

"What the hell was that shit, Missulena?" Nerissa says blowing the smoke into the air.

"It was hot!" Imogene says. Birdie shrugs lazily.

"She's pissed. We should get back to the dorms before she gets sick." Nerissa says gesturing them towards the door.

Birdie follows behind her friends before feeling a sharp pain it the middle of her forehead. She shakes off the pain before searching for her friends in the crowd. Birdie stumbles forward but before she could catch her balance she feels her legs give out beneath her making her fall straight on her back. Her arms become stiff against the sides of her sides as her back arch towards the ceiling. Birdie's eyes rolls eerily to the back of her head as her gaped mouth lets out a ghostly howl.

Nerissa and Imogene push pass through the crowd surrounding as Birdie's body rattles violently against the old rug beneath her body. Birdie looks up at her friends through her tear filled eyes. Until her eyes finally closed.

[sotvrna]

scars

It’s the small things for her. A smile lasting a beat too long; a hand straying on her back; a supportive word said in earnest; eyes that always find a new something to appreciate; warm breath on her neck;

a kiss under gentle morning light.

Imogen pulls her lips away from Laudna's, a smile tugging the muscles of her face into a softer shape, unavoidable. “Mornin’,” she says, her voice still affected by sleep, and nuzzles into the crook of her neck to hide the stupid grin she can’t seem to get rid of.

“Good morning,” Laudna responds, impossibly soft, a smile in her words. She cradles her close under the covers, massaging her scalp in the exact way she likes.

Quiet, comfortable, filled only with their breaths. Laudna’s chest lies still beneath her ear, a silence that might’ve unnerved her with anyone else but has become a sign of safety instead; she remembers reading an old, weathered book, where a poet said ‘a lover’s heartbeat is a sign of an oncoming tempest’; if that’s true, then Laudna’s lack of one is a harbor to protect her from the storm.

“What are you thinking of?” Laudna asks, and kisses the top of her head.

“You,” she responds only after a slight hesitation.

“But I’m right here.”

Imogen pulls away to look at her; Laudna’s hair spilling over the pillow, crowning her head, her deep dark eyes always searching her, her naked chest tempting her attention. “You are,” she says, and kisses her again; it’s a soft, delicate thing, and still it sends electricity through her body, a novel feeling every time. “You really are.” She touches her face like she’s making sure, gently thumbing her cheekbones.

Laudna creases her eyebrows, though the smile remains. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know... I just missed you.”

“After last night?” Laudna asks, with a suggestion in her tone. “Did you go somewhere in your dreams?”

She frowns, her gaze unfocused. “Maybe... I don’t remember but— Feels like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Well, we’re together, here,” Laudna says, and covers the hand on her cheek with her own, gently taking it to her mouth and pressing her lips to it. “Focus on that.”

And Imogen does, for a while. Touching her, sharing this secret peace with her, it’s grounding, and Laudna seems content with going back to sleep. But eventually she raises to her feet, pulled by an unrest deep within her.

Laudna protests by way of a whine, holding onto her hand. “Where are you going?” Her eyes plead.

“We have, so much to do,” Imogen responds, trying not to sound too severe.

Laudna pouts and sits up on the edge of the bed, taking her other hand and keeping her from finding her clothes. “No we don’t. Stay with me.”

Imogen rolls her eyes fondly. “Yes, we do.” She’s sure of that much. She just can’t seem to remember what, exactly.

Pulling on her hands, she gets Laudna to her feet, but she uses the momentum to get into Imogen’s space, encircling her neck with her arms and sharing the space of their breaths. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“You’re being very boring right now.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Laudna begins to slowly sway them to an imaginary rhythm. “Dance with me.”

Imogen laughs. “Without music?” But she allows herself to be led, falling in tandem with Laudna.

“You can’t hear it?” Laudna asks with a lopsided smile. “Pay attention.”

She narrows her eyes at the silence of the bedroom, only the occasional bird out the window and their shuffling feet breaking it. “I ain’t hearing anything.”

Laudna simply gestures at her own head with an index.

Imogen opens her thoughts, lowering her walls and finding Laudna’s presence, steady and tranquil. She embraces her mind, always a homecoming, feeling it envelop her own like the softest silk. It’s then she hears it: a soft melody, constant, dancing between their shared connection and filling her ears. She rests her hands on Laudna’s waist and her head on her chest;

and they dance.

She’s unsure how much time passes but eventually she pulls back to gaze at her, overwhelmed by a wave of deep affection. “I love you.”

Laudna smiles adoringly at her, sending a new wave of emotion. “I love you too.” She leans in for a quick kiss, then sends her spinning, using her hand to guide her.

They fall back into the bed giggling, Imogen feeling a bit silly but filled so intensely with a warm sensation in her chest. Laudna embraces her and they fall into a comfortable silence.

It’s moments like these when she truly understands the depth of Laudna’s meaning to her. How much she’s intrinsic to her life, how she can’t even conceive of existence without her. It’s funny, even the most mundane, small moments become relic with the right person; treasured possessions she selfishly keeps close to her chest to remember later.

Laudna studies her hand with her finger, tracing the scarred tissue there, then where they have started to turn reddish—it jolts something in her memory, and she feels the need to leave again but Laudna’s voice brings her back to the now. “Do they hurt?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

Imogen fights the instinct to cover her hands, to hide away the marks; it would be a foolish attempt since they now cover a lot more than her arms, but more importantly, she doesn’t want to shy away from Laudna, even over this. “Not really. They’re just... sensitive.”

Laudna hums in contemplation, tracing the lightning up her arm, where it meets with the scars going up her neck and down her chest. “They’re beautiful,” she says, focused on them, like she’s studying a particularly interesting work of art.

“They’re—” A curse? A portent? A defilement? Maybe the burden of her powers, at best. But “—not.”

Laudna clicks her tongue once. “They’re a part of you, so yes, they are.”

“I didn’t want them though.”

“And does that make them alien to you?” Laudna asks, looking deeply at her now. “We have our scars, and our pains, and our strangeness, and some of it is forced on us, but all of it is what makes us whole.”

Imogen is wordless, and it hits her suddenly how much scars must mean to Laudna, more than anyone else; how she sees herself and her own body; how she needs, perhaps, to see that beauty in someone else.

“Yours make you beautiful; and strong,” Laudna continues her exploration of her skin, her fingers drawing a pattern of affection down her chest and where the scars have marred even her breasts now; it’s a soft, intimate touch, and it anchors her.

Imogen covers her hand over her chest with her own, stilling it and making Laudna look at her. “So do yours,” she says, and repositions so she can lean over her. She releases her and brings her hand up to Laudna’s ear, hesitantly tracing the line of their cut shape, where someone dared to force her into a role she never asked for.

Laudna is stunned silent. Internally, Imogen’s heart beats faster, and anxiety gnaws at her, worry that she may have gone too far; this has been a line she never crossed; a touch she never dared. But Laudna’s face softens, and she leans into the touch.

Taking it as permission, Imogen closes in, peppers kisses over her ear and the sensitive skin behind it, soft and caring, slow and reverent. Her hand travels down her collarbone and finds its way to her chest where, between Laudna’s breasts, lies another mark, another testament to her being punished undeservedly and ruthlessly in the name of another. She pulls away, her eyebrows forming a tense line. Her fingers feel the ridges of where Otohan’s blade pierced her and shattered her world.

Laudna must sense her darkening mood, because she touches her cheek softly and whispers “It’s just another scar.”

But it’s not. This one is on her; her weakness; her fault. Laudna may bear it on her skin, but it’s mirrored in Imogen’s heart. She lowers her head, looks to her to see if this is okay before she presses her lips to the edge of the marred skin. She kisses her way down its length like she could somehow fix it; like she could remove this burden and what it represents from her; a tiny voice reminds her it’s not her place, that it’s Laudna’s history as much as hers.

Laudna brushes the hair from her face, then coaxes her up to face her, before she buries her fingers in her hair and kisses her, intense and passionate, garnering a response from her body as it awakens to the stimuli.

Quickly they find a way to distract and lose themselves in each other.

She wakes up. It’s disorienting at first, and she’s confused until it settles on her and she remembers: Uthodurn, an inn, simple rooms, no morning sunlight to greet her underground. A dream. It was just a dream. Yet the feeling it leaves is so intense, so real, so tangible; more vivid than a memory.

Laudna. The separation hits her again, and her eyes sting as she cradles her mess of rough covers closer, as if it could stem the loneliness she feels. Her relationship with her has been at the center of her life for so long. When she first met her, she knew she would become integral to her. The moment she felt her melodic mind in the crowd; the moment they first talked and she didn’t feel alone anymore. The first time they slept in the same bed, camping under countryside stars on their early travels; the first time Laudna brought her a cup of water after a nightmare; the first time they opened up about their past and found kinship; the first time Laudna transformed and she was delighted (the look Laudna gave her when she realized Imogen wasn’t scared of her).

The first time Laudna was gone and Imogen’s world broke again (the first time she was brought back and her world mended, crooked and scarred).

The first time Imogen thought of her as more than a friend.

She only realizes she’s crying as an afterthought. The bed rustles with movement and Imogen has a moment of whiplash, so used to having Laudna near in these moments, as Fearne’s soft voice drifts over her strangled sobs.

“Are you okay?”

Imogen chuckles dryly, humorless. She decides on honesty. “I’m not. But it was just a dream.”

“Another nightmare?”

Imogen can’t see her in the darkened room; she can hear the pity in her voice, but also the genuine worry. It’s a confusing feeling. “No. Nightmares I can deal with.”

There’s a long beat of silence before Fearne speaks up, unusually careful with her words. “About Laudna?”

Imogen suppresses another sob. She simply nods in response.

“I miss her too,” Fearne says, rubbing her arm in a valiant attempt at being comforting. Another extended silence. Then Fearne says, in her more usual tone and Imogen is grateful. “Do you wanna cuddle?”

She hesitates, but responds in a small voice “I do.”

Fearne, perhaps sensing something Imogen can’t, doesn’t say a word, simply engulfs her with her warm presence, nuzzling into the back of her head and settling into a comfortable arrangement with a sigh. Imogen finds herself craving more touch and accepts greedily when Fearne takes her hand, holding it firmly.

“Thank you,” she says into the dark, and gets a sleepy hum in response.

also on AO3

[pridepages]

Storytelling: Imogen, Obviously

I just finished Imogen, Obviously by Becky Albertalli. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

Our lives are made up of the stories we tell. Narrative is how we make sense of the random events that occur and the feelings they inspire. We take the chaos and we impose order. Give it structure.

Slap a label on it.

I’ll be the first to tell you how important and empowering queer storytelling is. Control of the narrative is a form of power, and for centuries cisheterosexual society has tried to control our narratives by silencing them.

Little by little, we’re taking back the mic, the pen, the keyboard. We’re getting our stories out there, sending them out to let other queer people know: we see your experience. You are not alone.

So stories are powerful tools to help us define ourselves and find our people. But if stories help us define queerness...can they also confine it?

Enter Becky Albertalli with her newest YA novel Imogen, Obviously. Meet Imogen Scott: she’s the Best Ally Ever. Her sister is a queer woman. Both of her best friends are queer women. Imogen loves everything about them and about the gay culture around them. Imogen also feels a little funny, a little stung, whenever someone brings up the fact that she’s Straight. It’s almost like the label is being forced on her when it doesn’t fit...

“I’ve never quite been able to pin it down. The way queerness announces itself,” Imogen reflects. “How it seems so intuitive for people. How people just seem to know...There have to be some sort of visible markers of queerness. Otherwise, how could so many people know at a glance that I’m straight?”

That phrasing rings so many alarm bells...it’s not ‘I know I’m straight.’ It’s other people. Other queer people who draw the lines and set the rules of engagement.

It’s funny because it’s true. There are queer people who can say with the same breath: ‘it’s okay to question your identity!’ and ‘straight people need to stay out of queer safe spaces!’ It’s Schrodinger’s Gay--until you come out of the closet, you’re somehow both and neither.

Take Gretchen, one of Imogen’s best friends who talks like she’s terminally online and basically embodies the Schrodinger’s Gay approach. I give full credit to Albertalli for giving us a complex antagonist. Gretchen’s assumptions that straight is the default and absolute refusal to give any unlabeled person the benefit of the doubt is caused by the fact that she regularly experiences homophobia. Readers feel simultaneously furious watching her shove Imogen into the closet and sympathetic because we understand it comes from a place of envy for anyone with that mythical ‘straight passing privilege.’ For people like Gretchen, there’s one way to be gay. If you don’t fit the standard model, then you can’t be real.

For girls like Imogen...girls like me...this line of thinking is very, very dangerous.

Because it turns out that feelings and desires aren’t completely intuitive. We have to learn how to read them, how to put names on them...in effect, how to label them. And we need to be taught how. As it turns out, queer girls can be handed a lot of cracked lenses through which to see their own sexuality distorted...

Here are some of the ones I heard growing up.

“Everyone likes to look at women. They’re objectively more attractive than men.”

“You’re just too mature to be boycrazy.”

“You’ll feel it when the right man comes along.”

“Of course you feel intense about your friends...friends are more important than boys because they last forever!”

“Straight girls like when other girls touch/kiss them because it makes them feel a little wild.”

“If you’re gay, you just know. Because gay people are born that way.”

So that guilty, eager feeling I got looking at the Victoria’s Secret window just meant I was perverse.

And I was smart for not getting why my friends lost their heads over guys.

It didn’t matter that I only liked boys as friends. That funny feeling I got around my third grade teacher couldn’t be a crush.

It was normal that I hated all my best friend’s boyfriends.

It was cliche that tequila made me loose enough to like it when other girls grabbed my chest at college parties.

I wasn’t gay...

Because if I was, then I would already know. 

I’d have grown up a little tomboy who hated girly things. I’d have identified some sort of unattainable crush and suffered from homophobia and consciously silencing myself. I’d gravitate toward flannel and the Indigo Girls and have pictures of famous women pinned up on my walls. Because that’s what Real Gay Girls did...

Right?

“It's like there's this idea that you have to earn your label through suffering. And then you have to prove it with who you date, how you dress, how other people perceive you,” Imogen explains. And she’s absolutely right. This idea that there is some kind of ‘right’ way to be gay poisons our brains and makes us feel like imposters in our own bodies.

For years, I thought the reason I kept failing every time I forced myself to try dating men was because I was a Broken Heterosexual.

Those words actually appeared in my brain.

Like that is a real thing a person can be.

People like me are in desperate need of stories like Imogen’s. Because it is long past time to break the mold. This cultural pressure to perform identity the ‘right’ way leads to internalized homophobia. We police ourselves, struggle with imposter syndrome and insist we must be making up our feelings.

Screw that. Here’s Imogen’s lesson for anyone who needs to hear it: No one knows you better than you know yourself.

Only you know what you feel right now. Only you know when your feelings are evolving. You are the only person who gets to label you because YOU are the authority.

And to anyone who dares to say otherwise, I’m holding up this bit of wisdom from Imogen: “promise to hold space for variation.” Because we aren’t one narrative. We’re a library.

So keep sharing your stories.

I can’t wait to read them all.

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Relationship: Orym/Dorian Storm Characters: Dorian Storm, Orym (Critical Role), Fearne Calloway, Laudna (Critical Role), Ashton Greymoore, Chetney Pock O'Pea, Cyrus Wyvernwind, Imogen Temult Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Long-Distance Relationship, Angst, Worry, Conversations, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Loss, Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic, Reunions, Crying, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Angst with a Happy Ending Series: ← Previous Work Part 6 of Dorym Week 2023

Summary: While Bells Hells is separated, Dorian and the rest of the Crown Keepers find their way to one half of the group. He is devastated to hear that Orym isn't with them and hasn't been for weeks. Thousands of miles away, Orym hears from Imogen of Dorian's arrival after silence from the inert sending stone he still holds, hoping it will work again. The longing and the pain is there, but they continue to move closer to each other. Eventually growing nearer with each step they take.

Fic Preview “Dorian?” After weeks spent traveling to a place none of them knew because of a rumor, the relief of hearing Fearne's voice calling his name almost caused him to collapse on the spot. “Dorian! Is that you?”

“Fearne!”

The swirl of Fearne’s dress and hair filled his vision when he turned, giving him just enough time to prepare for impact. He leaned into the familiar warmth of Fearne wrapped around him for a hug that smelled of poisonously sweet flowers and ash. After taking a few seconds to enjoy it, he lifted his head from being buried in Fearne's hair to look over her shoulder. A few feet away Imogen, Chetney and FCG waited patiently for them to have their moment together. The fact three people he expected to see with them were missing immediately caused his heart to plummet.

Pulling back from Fearne enough to see her face, it still took him a second longer to get the words out of his mouth. “Where is everyone? Where's Orym?”

[garnierwrites]

christ here we go 4 and 14 for imogen and jude and 11 for emma and isle

[ Spilt milk tears, I did this for you / Spilling over the idle, the black and the blue / The sweetest submission, drinking it in / The wine, the women, the bedroom hymns / 'Cause this is his body, this is his love / Such selfish prayers and I can't get enough / Yeah, I can't get enough ]

For Jude + Imogen: NSFW Gif Icon # 4

She believed things like these were made for the night, because daylight stripped them from their secrecy, tore their intimacy to shreds, took the tenderness of it all, and turned it into an animalistic thing. She wanted to believe sensuality had a lot to do with it and that to be perceived as being—by definition—overexposed. But whoever said being overexposed was a bad thing? Someone insecure? Someone scared? Or was it someone ashamed to admit to themselves, at times like these, humanity wore thin from the friction?

She was also biased. And that was entirely Jude's fault.

Little by little he was peeling back her layers, leaving on the floor wisps of translucent skin that could only be identified as hers from up close. There she was in the violence of a bright early morning, bouncing up and down the length of him and moaning softly at the stretch dancing so dangerously close to being painful.

“I'm supposed to be at work in thirty minutes,” she sighed, slamming her hips down on his, both harder and faster. “So you better make me cum quick.”

For Jude + Imogen: NSFW Gif Icon # 14

— in which they're fucking toxic xoxo

Imogen had come up with a better way to settle their arguments, better than shouting them out and better than punishing him with her silent hostility. The two of them had gotten into a fight, the umpteenth fight of the week, it seemed, and by that point, she could feel the excitement bubbling inside her at the prospect of settling their scores as soon as they were alone.

Yet in a twisted turn of events it had been Jude's turn to punish her with silence, to ignore her low blows, and disregard her in a way that burned and froze her all the same. Imogen had tried to keep some of her pride, but that too was useless, for she was in his lap kissing his neck as who nurses wounds carefully and trying not to sting. An eternity would pass by, and languid by languid movement she tried to arouse him, to awake him, to get him to speak—she had never been in a position where she was looking down at him lining himself with her entrance, and starting to push himself in, and been tempted to ask:

“Do you still like me?”

There goes her pride. His silence was a barrier not even their closeness could break, and their bodies a fountain of waters that would not mix and would hardly touch. Imogen was starting to lose her patience, meeting him halfway as she lowered her hips on him, and grazed his forearms with her nails wanting to elicit as much as a hiss from him—several minutes had passed and she was crying angry tears now. She was far too slighted to try and express her feelings like a normal person, let alone let him know she wanted him to fuck her faster.

She whined: “Fucking say something, Jude!”

She whined even more when he covered her mouth with his hand. Imogen's cheeks were streaked with tears and leftover mascara. This is the end of us, she thought, there's no way we can keep going like this. And so she thought, she really thought she could bring herself to stop him—stop them—and take whatever was left of her sanity with her. Unfortunately, he did oblige her with something, and the second his thrusts became faster and his beard scratched the tender skin of her face, she forgot about the whole thing.

For Emma + Isle: NSFW Gif Icon # 11

— not me giving them an exhibition kink

There were muffled noises coming from the racetrack: a celebration taking place at dusk's brightest moment, a few feet away from them. There were also louder noises: jagged breaths, clothes rustling, and zippers ripping open unceremoniously. Both of them were expressions of joy and relief in equal measure—the NASCAR season was officially over and they were free, for as long as the need of keeping themselves at a distance from the racetrack lasted. Who cares if it was just a fleeting moment? Would it hurt them that much to pretend they had a say in the way they lived their lives?

Moments like this made them feel alive, so naturally, he was going to indulge in them.

He deserved it.

She deserved it as well.

They had been in hiding for so long, and they were hiding still. Carlisle knew their relationship would be frowned upon, that he would be called impulsive and irresponsible, but he couldn't bring himself to care—he was too far in to do that. While the word love lingered in the air like a threat, he yanked his arms desperately out of his racing suit, letting the sleeves hang from his hips as traced his hands over Emma's soft skin, running his hands up her shirt and over her breasts. She was perfect. She was so fucking perfect.

“They're gonna walk in on us,” he said as a fact — not as a suggestion. “They're gonna see what we're doing, see how fucking good we make each other feel.”

He laughed like a villain and rid her of those skimpy denim shorts she was wearing as he came down to his knees and spread her from behind before running his tongue flat against her folds. He hummed at the taste, holding her lovingly in place, with his fingers digging into her thighs. Breaking apart from her was a punishment, but to look at her like that: half-naked in a pair of sneakers, half-exposed for the entire racing track to see should they wander into the darkened tunnels leading to the track, awakened something in him.

“Hold onto the wall,” he told her with a husky voice, as he rolled her panties down to her thighs, and pumped himself in his hand. Then he grabbed her hips, her hands pressed to the wall as he thrust himself inside her.

She was so maddeningly warm, so tight, ��Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck baby.” Soon the tunnel was filled with the sounds of moans and skin slapping skin, both of them shrouded in the half-light. There was something he found so arousing in the idea of not fully removing their clothes, something so primal and urgent, neither of them capable of waiting just a little longer to fuck each other's brains out. He wanted to be sweet, he wanted to be a gentleman, but it was clear this one time neither of them needed him to be.

Somewhere close by there were footsteps. Isle pressed his chest to her back and gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, feeling her tighten around him and someone's arousal—his or hers, he didn't know—running down his shaft.

“Someone's coming,” He tugged at her hair as he kissed the shell of her ear, and he whispered. “Let them fucking hear you.”

[eddiemunsonsmiddlefingers]

I think it's officially a disease or something.

I've watched this show Too Many Times.

The first few times, I enjoyed the obvious bits: the crush, the kisses (including Darcy & Tara), the getting together, the happy date, the coming out.

Now though...in my last re-watch I found myself really enjoying other parts of it:

Nick looking up LGBTQ stuff on his computer, specifically the whole bit leading up to the quiz where all he really saw was terrible stuff. This, in contrast to the scene where Darcy says "We're such meddling gays" in the GC and Nick looks so happy.

The scene after he takes the quiz when he's standing at the table and all of his friends are turned away from him. It's the best visualization of the feeling a song gives me that I've ever seen.

Nick and Charlie running up the stairs. I love this even more than the actual kiss. Nick unintentionally gave Charlie the ability to lead the way in a manner he's really good at and choose where they go at the end. I don't know if Charlie would have been able to ask the questions he did if he hadn't had that burst of confidence and joy before hand.

The corridor run after fetching Tara and Darcy. There's so much to unpack here: Tara and Darcy first, holding hands to begin with (they're out, they're together, everyone knows it), Nick and Charlie next, grabbing hands as they go (together, but working on being out); Elle next; she's out and proud but she cares about Tao...and Tao himself, who is struggling to keep up, who isn't sure if he belongs anymore, who physically can't do the thing they're all doing (coming out) and doesn't know he can have what they have (Elle's right there but he doesn't see her care for what it is).

Isaac knocking over the monopoly board to end an argument that symbolizes Charlie and Tao's basic differences in perspective and opinion on a mutually experienced situation.

Darcy telling Imogen "thank you for your service" versus Nick saying "Glad to be of service" to Tara.

Elle's comments about getting suspended for hair length. That's the exact kind of bullshit reason a transphobic administration would come up with to get her out of their school without getting in legal trouble for discrimination. A little too real, but also her joy at being able to be herself is so GOOD to see.

Nick asking Charlie 'what's up' when he looks distressed juxtaposed with Nick's mom saying "Oh Nicky, come on baby" in the car vs Charlie's mom saying "you could at least change out of your pyjamas" like he's done something wrong and his dad asking what's wrong but failing to follow up when Charlie blows him off, juxtaposed with Charlie failing to communicate with Tao, always assuming he's done something wrong, and assuming he's ruining Nick's life. How parents interact with their kids impacts how their kids view themselves and interact with others, and this show draws that line very clearly.

Imogen hanging out at the gates of the boys' school every day. I didn't even question it until I realized wait- she doesn't go there. Why is she there? I want to know more about Imogen.

Every single time Nick makes that guilty "oh fuck" face when Charlie gets shit (or talks about getting shit) for being gay after Kiss. Kit's ability to convey emotion with microscopic changes in his expression is phenomenal.

Ben looking over their shoulders in that split second scene in the cinema. Also, all the cinema posters.

Tao and Nick's conversation in Boyfriend. Anyone who hates Tao can fight me. He IS a good friend—he's just fifteen, for fuck's sake. Mistakes happen, give him a break.

Isaac reading Radio Silence. Aled's here, my friends, just in another room.

The details about Charlie (and Tori)'s life that tie into the books and will lead into season 2 if it happens, but in such a subtle way that people who haven't read the books notice but think it's just stress, while people who have read them are crying with the sadness of it all.

The cinema fight. I don't know why. That scene fills me with ferocious glee because Harry absolutely deserved to get decked but for some reason out of all the dramatic stuff I did expect, I didn't expect him to get what was coming to him.

Charlie on the tree roots.

"Homophobia!"

That Nick and Charlie's date is at a place where they can both be open and carefree about their relationship. Charlie gets a golden memory, Nick gets reassurance that everything will be okay.

Whoops, apparently there's a character limit?

[samuraiko]

Are you still doing those vignette requests? Would love to see you write about a conversation between fearne and orym after ep 34 (also do you think fearne lied about the coin flip or no? Pretty popular theory going around right now)

After the events of C3E33 and C3E34, I wasn't quite up to re-opening vignette requests, but... this is an idea I'd been somewhat pondering in my head already, so I'll answer this particular Ask.

Re: the theory... I genuinely don't know. I imagine it'll come out in the wash later, one way or another.

"Living With One's Choices"

It was late afternoon, or so Orym guessed as he sat cross-legged on the floor, Imogen curled up around Laudna's body to his left, Fearne curled up against him on his right. Even in her sleep, Fearne had one hand on his knee, her fingers loosely clutching his pants leg in her grip as though afraid he'd disappear.

Orym glanced over at Imogen, who was weeping softly in her sleep, and he gently tucked an errant lock of her hair back behind her ear, and Imogen subsided into silence once more. On Laudna's other side was Ashton, one hand resting on Laudna even in sleep. FCG was powered down nearby, and Chetney was in a small ball at Laudna's feet.

He felt a faint tugging at his pants leg, and Orym turned back to see Fearne's eyes were open and gazing up at him, shining with tears.

"You need to sleep," he whispered to her, but she shook her head.

"Not just yet. I... I'm sorry, Orym."

"For what?"

Fearne sniffled and let go of him just long enough to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand.

"I was... I was selfish. I brought you back, because I was scared and... I was lonely and I... I was so afraid for you."

Orym looked down at her in concern. "Why?"

"When I was... well, dead... before Letters brought me back, I was in this awful place. It was green and dark and really icky, and all these eyes... and well, it was a little bit exciting, but I really didn't want to stay there. And when I woke up... and Grass said you were dead, too... I was so afraid that you were in a place like that and I couldn't just leave you there."

Then she began to cry in earnest. "But now I've left Laudna there, and I feel terrible."

"Shhh, Fearnie, shhh." He stretched out next to her and hugged her, rubbing her shoulders in slow circles. "It wasn't like that for me. Not in the slightest bit. I think it's different for everyone. So don't you worry about Laudna. For all we know, she's with her mom and dad again. And she told me... she told me a while back how she'd had a lot of great things happen to her since... well, since she died. And she had a lot of love in her. I don't think she'd blame you at all."

"What do you think she'd say?"

"I think... she'd tell you to take care of Imogen. And be there for her."

"I was going to do that anyway. And, well, I did promise her that we'd find a way to bring her back."

"Then that's what we'll do. Together."

Fearne was quiet for a little bit, then very softly, Orym heard, "What... was it like? For you?"

Fresh pain tore through Orym's heart like a jagged blade, but he swallowed hard. "I was... in Zephrah. And it was just as beautiful as I remember it. And..." He tried valiantly, but still the tears fell. "Will... was there. My beautiful Will. Waiting for me."

Tears welled up in Fearne's eyes once more. "Oh, no... no no no and I stole you away from him-"

"Shhh." Orym hugged her even tighter and pressed his forehead against Fearne's. "No. Don't you dare think that. I chose to come back. And Will understands why. There's still so much to do. So much to set right. And you need me." He pulled away just long enough to kiss Fearne's forehead and then rested his against hers once more.

"It's okay... I promise." A flash of a sad smile crossed his face, and without thinking about it, he imitated Laudna's cultured tones. "'Focus your brain forward. It's not worth being sad about what can't be changed.' That's what she said. So that's what we'll do."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay. You're the smart one." Fearne hugged him closer. "I'm so glad you're my friend, Orym. Thank you for coming back to me." Then she closed her eyes, and Orym heard her whisper, "And thank you, Will, for understanding. About the whole stealing thing. It's borrowing, really."

Despite himself, Orym chuckled. "Now get some sleep. We've all had a really long day." He sat up once more and settled himself comfortably in a cross-legged position, only to feel Fearne once again reach out and take his hand in hers.

Before long, he heard her breathing become slow and steady, leaving Orym alone in the stillness with his thoughts, remembering the warmth of Will's embrace, and feeling the warmth of Fearne's hand in his.

[lesbicosmos]

heartstopper episode 5 thoughts

-this is why me and my friends don't play monopoly, it would end in chaos. also it's boring.

-elle is so goddamn pretty in this scene i am so in love with her oh my

-slightly unrelated but i need charlie's owl mug like rn

-honestly the amount these two flirt in form, how nobody else figured it out i have no clue. guys ur meant to be being subtle 😭

-tao's comebacks >>>

-"do you like this girl" "well...her dog died." HIS MUMS FACE IS TOO FUNNY OLIVIA COLMAN I LOVE YOU

-like there was ever any doubt who nick would choose between charlie and imogen

-isaac casually reading radio silence like this isn't giving me an existential crisis over whether time travel exists in this universe bc that book literally mentions nick and charlie and is set like 3 years in the future

-once again, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE BEING SUBTLE GUYS IF U WANT NO ONE TO KNOW STOP GIVING EACH OTHER HEART EYES IN PUBLIC 😭

-**insert tao looking tiny in the doorway in the bathroom scene in the comic**

-also moment of appreciation for elle's outfit, her style is everything and i'm in love with her (yes im gonna bring up that every time i mention her, i'm in love.)

-nick looks legitimately terrified of tao and i don't blame him (also the bloopers of this scene are <3333)

-i need to know the context for why charlie's scared of the dance machine.

-nick apologising and explaining the imogen situation and charlie completely understanding just shows how much they care about each other and how much they communicate. nick could not be less like ben if he tried

-the way nick says he didn't have time to go out and buy anything yet still had time to put so much care into that frame and he definitely panicked over whether he chose the right photo or put the stickers in the right place. this mf just wanted to be a disaster romantic and i love him for it

-subtle detail i noticed: the way nick's hand shakes slightly when he moves it to the back of charlie's neck when they kiss, he's so nervous about kissing him in public but also really wants to do it

-has/will nick ever beat charlie at mario kart? probably not

-that moment between tao and elle and the way she looks at him i love them so much

-i love the scene between nick and imogen, i really want them to be best friends in season 2. she's so understanding even if she doesn't fully understand exactly what nick's going through, and the way she doesn't pry or continue to try and get him to date her, she just accepts it and moves on. also nick was so brave for talking to imogen about it in general. i also love how she makes a joke out of it when they're with harry and doesn't say why they actually didn't go out because she knew harry would make fun and ask questions. just ... imogen heaney <333

-i do have to say im kinda mad about i want to be with you by chloe moriondo being played at the end of this episode after the nick and imogen scene because it's such a nick/charlie song in the comics, hoping it gets reused in later seasons in one of their scenes

[clocks-are-round]

yeah so i ended up writing this. maybe i’ll incorporate it into a longer fic eventually but for now here’s this. i just kinda rolled with it and it turned out fun.

References my fic Dysfunctional

——

“Was there a reason your father and I weren’t made aware of your wedding?” Her arms were crossed in true Karen fashion.

“Yeah,” Simmons said, “I didn’t think of you. And even if I had, I wouldn’tve wanted you to come. Things didn’t exactly go well when I visited.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Imogen bit her lip. “Grif, you may have been right in your… constructive criticism. My efforts weren’t working because I was troubleshooting the wrong area.”

Grif nudged Simmons, “You really take after your mom, don’t you?”

“What? Why would you think that?” they said simultaneously.

“In any case,” Imogen continued, “I will do my best to be more open to feedback. Your father is a definite work-in-progress, but I think if he can allow himself to learn, he’ll stop pushing you away. If he doesn’t, I’ll just get him cancelled by letting it slip that he’s transphobic and actually disowned his son for years for that very reason— oh no, Jimmy my darling! I couldn’t silence the press in time!”

“Mom, you wouldn’t!”

“You’re right, but it’s kind of funny to imagine his face as everything he’s built up falls down around him.”

“The Imogen Simmons I know never resorts to humor! I don’t hear any laughter. Should I warn the CIA that my mom is a nefarious supervillain?”

“No!” She covered her smile trying to hold it in, “I just—“

“Hello, Mr President? Are you aware of the social superpower that is Imogen Simmons? It would take all our forces to even attempt to stop that woman once she’s made up her mind!”

A snort escaped through her giggles, “Dickie!”

Grif smiled. This was a completely different vibe from when he had dinner with them. This was nice.

——

“Is Grif short for something?”

“No, it’s just my last name.”

“Oh, would you prefer I call you by your first?”

Grif shrugged. Not really.

“Fair enough. We’re not exactly close.”

“Uh, also… You were right about something too.”

“Yes?” Jesus, that got her full attention.

“Or at least, you got me thinking about what I wanted to do with my life. And if there was someone I’d want to settle down with. If you hadn’t brought that up, I probably would’ve taken a lot longer to tell Simmons how I felt about him.”

——

“What did you say? She looks really proud of herself, which usually means something big.”

“Eh, she’s kind of the reason I confessed to you. That night you didn’t realize I was confessing to you.”

“She was? And you told her? You know she’s going to tell that story constantly right? We’re going to be hearing her brag about it every time we see her, so if she does become part of my life again—“

“There are worse things than a story about how we ended up together.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“You guyssss!!” A familiar falsetto shouted.

They turned. Sure enough, running towards them was—

“Donut??”

He leaped and hooked his arms around their necks, kissing each of their cheeks before they could react.

“Ugh, Jesus, keep it in Europe—“

“I heard the news! I can’t believe you guys are expecting!”

“Donut. What the FUCK are you talking about??”

“Expecting what?? I don’t have ovaries!”

“Forget your ovaries, there’s no fucking way my balls survived Tex.”

“What? No, expecting company! I heard you were patching things up with your mom, Simmons!”

“Jesus Christ, at least with the innuendos we knew what to expect.”

“Pun intended?”

“Shut up.”

“Wait, how did you hear about that? It just happened!”

“Well, I just heard about it. From Sam.”

“Locus! Stop being a fucking creep!”

“Yeah, seriously, Donut. Tell your partner to stop snooping in everyone’s business.”

“He calls it reconnaissance.”

[unicyclehippo]

speedrun - cr3

‘the idea of this retreat is very simple! we’re gonna - respectfully, kindly, lovingly - speedrun our way through a couple things. we’ll start with a session on gettin’ in touch with our inner child, move along to lovin’ ourselves the way we are now, and finally, hopefully we’ll be at the point where we can really work together as a team, a - a cohesive unit! first in a safe and collaborative environment and then,’ FCG’s beaming smile dimmed just a smidge, ‘well, then we put it into practice straight away. in a super dangerous, super unfamiliar, super scary place. which is why it’s so important that we all give this retreat a hundred and ten per cent!’

his words met a strained and cautious silence.

laudna’s voice slipped into the silence like a serpent. ‘you’re hoping that we can…train ourselves into being a team.’

‘that’s right!’

‘and that is supposed to help us get over the loss of having only recently been family.’

FCG blinked. ‘well, that’s an interestin’ way to look at it.’ he glanced to imogen, then back to laudna, and continued kindly. ‘personally, i don’t think we’ve stopped being family. all my reading and chattin’ on the topic has really opened my eyes and my heart to the possibility that just because we’ve hit a bit of a rough patch doesn’t mean everything we made is wrong. something just needs a little mending—if you’re willing to put the work in. if you want it to be fixed at all.’

she frowned down at them, curling deeper into her own shadow the longer they spoke. ‘what if it’s not broken?’ she mused in a voice tatter-thin, mere cobwebs. ‘what if it’s burnt? what if there’s ruins where once there stood a home?’

‘laudna.’

dark eyes leapt to violet. a crooked smile clattered across a sad face. ‘i’m sorry, dear. i’m being cryptic again.’

‘just a little,’ imogen agreed with a nod and gentle nudge.

‘i don’t mean to be.’

‘i know.’

‘i just mean—what if when you go home to the only place you can remember living, scrounging together a life, and it’s been so long since you were there and you were expecting it to be the same almost even though it’s been decades because you haven’t changed so it shouldn’t have either but then you arrive on the outskirts of that clearing and the home you remember is rubble and ash and you think how funny it is to see it and sit in the soot because somehow you forgot, silly thing, that you died and came back and maybe you have changed too.’ laudna blinked her big black eyes around the circle at each of them, guileless, almost childish in her raw honesty. ‘what point would there be in rebuilding? there’s next to nothing left.’

imogen crouched beside her. brushed dark locks behind cruel-cut ears.

‘there’s enough for a doll, isn’t there?’

‘yes.’

‘there was enough to keep you safe for a night, ‘til i could find you?’

‘yes.’

‘sounds like a pretty great place to me,’ imogen whispered and leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead. laudna made a noise like a creaking floorboard and leaned into the gentle touch.

[neraidaastrid]

Nothin’ Like You

Kol Mikaelson x reader

Fandom: the vampire diaries/ the originals

Word Count:

Prompt: Nothin’ Like You~ Dan+Shay

Warnings: none

A/N: hope you like it!

I remember when I first met you                                                                             Sippin’ coffee in a corner booth         

Exams were becoming stressful and most of your days were spent studying. The Mystic Grill was the best place for you, Food and  quiet chatter so your didn’t lose complete focus with the silence. You sat in a corner booth with a pile of books for the couses you were taking. Senior year is always stressful since you wanted to to well enough to get a decent job without having to go to college. 

                                                                                                                                  You were twirling your hair                                                                                      And I just had to stair for a minute or two                                                                     I was laughing at your stack of books        

A tick of yours was to play with your hair when bored or anxious. The words of the text was being read, just not processed in your brain, so you ended up reading the same extract again and again. The Grill had suddenly become slightly louder as some people walked in. Two men who you knew were new in town walked in. They were brothers. Nothing important, so you got back to your tasks.

Kol had just entered the Grill with Klaus for a few evening drinks when a girl caught his eye. She had a pile of textbooks to the side of her and she was fiddling with a strand of hair, biting her bottom lip. The original vampire thought she looked gorgeous

                                                                                                                                 Then you shot me that smile                                                                                   Hey beautiful girl in your own little world                                                                                    Let me in it                      

You raised your head from the book to find Kol Mikaelson staring at you with his devilishly handsome smirk. All you could do was return a small smile, tucking the piece of hair you were twisting behind your ear.

                                                                                                                                                    You got all of my attention                                                                                           And you ain’t even trying     

Exams were finally over; you had some time to spend, so you thought why not go out with some friends. Your friends, Tiffany and Imogen, dragged you to a little cafè on the edge of town. The three of you sat on a little table outside of the building, drinking coffee. Kol strolled past and your laughter rung in his ears. Even though you weren’t trying to be noticed by anyone, your pure innocence made his heart skip a beat.

                                                                                                                                                                                              Yeah, you're my kinda different                                                                               And I've never seen                                                                                                                 Nothin’ like you                                               

The original vampire’s chest was your pillow as you slept ontop of him. Arms keeping your body close. Kol couldn’t keep his eyes off of your beauty. Your face alone making the vampire swoon, let alone your personality. The pure kindness in your being. The way your face could light up any room, it made him love you unconditionally.

                                                                                                                                           Shades on, spinning in the summer rain                                                                      Dancing when there ain’t no music        

Rain fell all over your beings. Kol held you by the waist as you swayed, your arms around his neck. Your giggles when he spinned you out and tugged you back into him, echoed in his brain, memorising every moment. He wanted this to last forever, never letting you go or get hurt. Your smile making his stomach form butterflies. It was like he was in heaven.

                                                                                                                          Just the right kind of crazy, baby                                                                                      There’s something ‘bout you                                                                                         Rockin’ that rock and roll t-shirt      

Kol took you to your favourite band’s concert. The original wasn’t a huge fan of the music, but he knew you loved it, so he put up with it. As long as you were happy, he didn’t mind. While music blasted into your ears, Kol pulled you by the hips, lovingly pressing his lips onto yours. You felt giddy with joy, like a thirteen year old girl going on her first date. The both of you grinned through the kiss, you hooking your arms behing his neck, nipping at the back of his hair. This man did magical things to your insides.     

                                                                                                                                  When we party dressed up                                                                                     But you just doing your thing                                                                                         Ain’t nobody ever seen                                                                                           Nothin’ like you        

Your dress swished as Kol twirled you on the dance floor. The Mikaelson’s were having a ball at the moment, and your vampire Boyfriend gave you a blush princess ball gown. Floral lacey bodice, the pattern fading away as it puffed out on the petticoat. It was gorgeous, but Kol would’ve thouht that you looked stunning in anything, maybe even in nothing. 

One of his hands on your waist, while the other one intertwined with yours. Your petite hand laid ontop of his broad shoulder. “You look stunning, darling.” He cooed into your ear. “I think your may have mentioned that to me already, but i’m not sure, maybe you need to say it again.” Kol’s signature smirk played on his lips as you teased him.

                                                                                                                             When your wearing them worn out jeans                                                               Purple untied shoe strings         

You stepped into the Mikaelson’s mansion in ripped jeans and a tank top. You wandered down the hallway, bumping into Rebekah, A.K.A, one of your good friends. Her eyes looked you up and down, her facial expressions practically speaking to you. “We get it Rebekah, you don’t like my fashion.” You loved the vampire but she always commented on your ripped clothing. “Obviously you can rock anything, but it’s nothing amazing.”

“I think she looks fabulous.” The voice you recognised far too well. Kol appeared behing you, so you turned and jumoed into his arms, him catching you by the thighs, kissing your lips. “Ugghhhh. Get a room.”

                                                                                                                                     You’re a light in the dark                                                                                                  And you're stealing my heart like a gypsy      

Kol had gotten into an argument with his familly, and asked you to come over. You stumbled into his room, tripping over your feet. His face held so much frustration, but as soon as your face came into view, he lit up immediantly. “Hey....” You bit your lip walking over to the original. 

                                                                                                                                    I love the way that you kiss me                                                                               In front of everybody                                                                                               So baby come and kiss me                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Never seen nothin’ like you

Kol’s hands pulled your flush to his, stradling his legs. Lips moving simutanously in sync. Your hands cupped his cheeks, deepening the kiss. His hands roamed the surface your body in the heated moment. Him using vamp speed, flipped you over, Kol hovering over your temple of a body. You were his muse and he was yours.

[notinlovewithdeanwinchester]

Welcome to the Hunter’s World Ch. 4

Summary: A young woman gets thrown into the world of hunters and monsters after being attacked by her supposed boyfriend, and learns that not everything is as it appears. Deciding she wants to learn how to fight these things, she asks the Winchesters for help, and along the way, starts feeling something unexpected for the older Winchester. 

Trigger Warnings: Blood, major character near death, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse, if I forgot to list any, please let me know in a comment!

Beta Reader: No

Pairing: Eventual Dean Winchester x Original Female Character

Word Count: 1641

Series Masterlist

Story under the cut!

Chapter FourAfter having lunch and saying goodbye, Dean and Imogene headed back to the bunker. Things were quiet except for the radio, blaring Metallica’s The Unforgiven. She started to hum along as the silence began to bother her, and Dean looked at her briefly, surprised.

“You know Metallica?” he asked, looking back at the road after a few moments. She nodded.

“Yea, of course. They’re only one of the best bands ever… My dad took me to see them live when I was around fourteen. It was my first major concert and ever since, and before that we would listen to them together while we did the model cars. Well, them and other classic rock bands. Kiss, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin…” she trailed off, then she shrugged and went back to humming along. He raised his eyebrows before smirking, joining in and singing along. She smiled at him, singing as well. He glanced at her again, a slightly unfamiliar feeling building inside him.

When they arrived back at the bunker, she headed inside from the garage, eager to go help Sam research and learn more of the lore. Dean watched her go, fighting back a frown as he ducked into the kitchen, grabbing himself a beer.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Sam greeted when he saw her head into the library. She waved and sat with him.

“It went well, actually; seeing Mom and Dad again was great and having Dean there… well, it was actually really comforting,” she replied. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“So when are you gonna tell him about that huge crush you’re getting?” he teased, making her blush bright red. She quickly shushed him, looking over her shoulder to make sure Dean was out of earshot.

“I told you that in confidence!” she exclaimed, laughing and lightly tossing a wadded up paper at him. He chuckled.

“Yea, and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. And before long, even Dean will notice something is up.”

She hid her face again before shaking it off.

“Come on, I came to help you research so you can teach me more about the lore,” she insisted, trying to focus. He chuckled again and showed her what he was researching.

“Alright, let me show you what’s going on, and how to start figuring out what it could be,” he told her, indicating things on the screen. “This article here talks about a guy found dead in his car with no one else in there and the doors locked, keys still in the ignition. Seems odd, right?”

She nodded, looking at the article.

“So then… you need to know what could get in and out of the car without opening the doors, right?” she asked, looking at him. He nodded. She thought a few minutes. “Ghost… demon… maybe even… witches use hex bags, right? Could they do something like this?”

He tilted his head, thinking for a moment.

“Maybe. If they knew the right kind of spell, but it’s unlikely. But to find out for certain, we need to go and investigate it at the scene, see what other kinds of clues there are. Like when demons are around…” he finally responded. Then he looked at her, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Demons… leave the smell of sulfur. And ghosts have cold spots. But of course… we can’t really ask him about that…” She frowned, reading over the article as Dean walked in. He watched them for a moment or two before speaking.

“So, you think you’re ready to go on your first case?” he asked from the doorway. She looked up, surprised.

“Really? Yea! I would love to!” She smiled and he nodded.

“Alright then. Let’s go get you some gear.” He smiled back and motioned for her and Sam to join him.

* * *

A little while later, Imogene was wearing a casual women’s pants suit and holding her own fake ID and badge Sam had put together for her. She looked at it for a moment.

“At least this picture looks better than my driver’s license,” she pointed out with a little frown. She looked a little tired in the picture, her freckles standing out with little to no makeup and her hair was looking a little flat. “I had to sneeze when they took it…”

Dean chuckled and shook his head.

“Come on, you don’t look so bad. Besides, who ever looks good in an ID photo?” He smiled and caught her eye in the rear view mirror, winking. She blushed and looked out the window.

“So, what do I need to know on the way to this case? Like how should I act and stuff?” she asked, looking between the two brothers.

“Just conduct yourself in a professional manner and follow our lead. You’ll be just fine,” Sam promised. She nodded, her nerves calming slightly. Dean turned up the radio, playing Metallica again. Sam rolled his eyes slightly but Imogene perked up a little more.

“Hey, that’s Nothing Else Matters, right? That’s an awesome song!” She smiled and started humming along. Dean smiled, Sam catching it out of the corner of his eye. Imogene stared out the window again, enjoying the ride and the music.

* * *

As it started to get dark, Dean pulled into a motel. He glanced in the rear view mirror towards Imogene, seeing that she had fallen asleep. He smiled gently and looked to Sam.

“I’m going to get us a room. Keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty back there,” he told him, getting out. Sam nodded, checking on her while Dean went in and got a room. She murmured in her sleep, nothing coherent before she shifted into a more comfortable position. He chuckled and shook his head while waiting on Dean.

After a few minutes, he came back with a set of keys.

“Alright, we’re in room 119.” He tossed one of the keys to Sam. “Get the bags.” He opened the back door and gently picked up Imogene, carrying her towards the room. Using the other key, he unlocked and carefully opened the door, laying her on one of the beds. He pulled off her jacket and shoes, setting them aside for her to sleep more comfortable. Sam came in a couple moments later, setting down the bags. Dean stripped down to his tshirt and kicked off his shoes, Sam doing the same.

“So… two beds and no couch, huh? Which one of us is gonna share with Genie then?” he asked. Dean looked at him, frowning.

“I mean… she knows you better. So you should probably share with her…” he told him. Sam frowned as well, raising his eyebrows.

“What makes you say that?” he replied. Dean shrugged a little.

“I mean, she hangs out with you all the time, researching and stuff. You two are like… I dunno, are you a thing now?” He looked at his younger brother and Sam shook his head.

“No. We’re just friends. Besides that, I can tell you like her, Dean.”

Dean looked away and cleared his throat.

“Wh-what? Who said anything about liking her? I just… she would feel awkward waking up next to me, okay? You take the bed with her.” Without giving Sam a chance to protest, he got into the other bed, getting comfortable. Sam rolled his eyes and stretched out with his back to Imogene, careful to give her enough room.

* * *

A few hours passed and Imogene sleepily woke up, stumbling towards the bathroom. When she came back out, she crawled back into bed, almost instantly falling asleep. However, the occupant of the bed was now awake and glanced at her. Dean sighed softly when he saw her, shifting to face her. He watched her sleeping face for a moment before reaching out to stroke her cheek gently. She shifted in her sleep and moved closer to him, murmuring in her sleep.

This is really dangerous, Genie, if only you knew, he thought, moving his arm around her. He hated that Sam was right; he had gotten attached to her and he feared what that would mean for her. His arms gently pulled her in against him and he closed his eyes. After several, slightly uncomfortable minutes, he fell asleep beside her.

* * *

In the early morning hours, Imogene started shifting around and whimpering in her sleep, waking Dean up. He looked at her, concerned. Her face was pale and she was trembling, her brow covered in sweat.

“N-no…” she murmured, eyes clenched. He reached out for her and softly shook her shoulder.

“Hey… Genie, come on, wake up,” he called to her. She whimpered and struggled a little before her eyes fluttered open, falling on Dean’s face. Her breathing started to calm down as she looked around.

“Wh-where…?” she asked, returning her gaze to his face. He gently stroked her hair.

“Hey, you’re alright. It was just a dream,” he told her, eyes soft as he looked at her. She bit her lip before nodded.

“Y-yea. I had… had a nightmare,” she whispered. He furrowed his brow.

“What happened?” he asked. She looked away and lightly wiped at her eyes.

“It was about when Ryder… my ex… when he attacked me that night. I’ve… it’s not the first one I’ve had…” she admitted. He nodded and shifted to pull her against him.

“Come here. I’ll keep you safe,” he promised. She nodded softly and started to relax against him, moving to try and hide the blush forming on her face.

“Thank you,” she replied quietly before closing her eyes. He didn’t reply, just kept her close to him til she calmed down and fell back asleep.

Yup, I am absolutely screwed, he thought as he closed his eyes again as well, falling into a dreamless sleep beside her. 

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